#rhysand x daughter reader

[enchanted-by-fae]

One Day - Azriel x Reader

Part 1

Paring: Azriel x Hewn City! Reader

Summary: You knew that you’d be forced into an arranged marriage one day, you just didn’t expect it to be now… or to the Shadowsinger

Warnings: Arranged marriage, angst?, idk me trying to set up the plot, don’t worry there will be one (and fluff and romance)

1.5k words (I meant to make it longer, oops)

A/N: This is my first fic so I don’t really have any clue as to what I’m doing. The title is from the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack because I think it just sounds really pretty and romantic.

Part 2 Part 3

“You wanted to see me father?” you asked, walking into your fathers office. You never liked coming into this part of your family's apartments. It always felt so damp and cold, you could practically taste the mildew embedded inside the walls.

Your family was by no means poor, at least by Hewn City standards. Your father was currently the right hand to Keir. You had a long family tree which went back to the first high lord of the Night Court. This made you a distant relative of your current High Lord, Rhysand, though you never called him by his name. You didn’t know much about him despite the distant relation. All you knew was that he seemed awfully cunning, but in a way that made you distrustful. Whenever he, along with his Inner Circle, showed up you always made sure to obey perfectly when in his presence and to make yourself sparse otherwise.

You had been summoned to your fathers office on what seemed to be rather “urgent matters”. You usually were never asked to meet with him, and this sudden request frightened you.

“Yes, my daughter,” your father said, gesturing for you to take a seat facing the desk where he was already seated. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” you moved to take the seat closest, sitting gracefully. You sat there waiting for your father to continue.

“Right,” he began with a curt nod, “it would seem the High Lord has come to me with a proposition” disdain filling his voice. Nobody dared speak a negative word of the mysterious High Lord in fear of it coming back to him, but they made their feelings known in other ways. For your father, he liked to show his dislike with the inflection of his voice.

“And I’m involved in this proposition?” your voice came out meekly. You knew the question was stupid. Of course you’re involved with this somehow, why else would your father call you here. Disgust filling his voice, “yes, it would seem that the High Lord would like to arrange a marriage.” you shot up out of the seat with a surprised expression that bordered anger. “What of his mate?” you argued.

“You wouldn’t be marrying the High Lord, Y/N” your father never addressed you by name. It was always “daughter” or “child”. The fact that he used your actual name now unsettled you.

“Who would I be marrying then?” you asked as worry flooded your senses. The only reasonable matches the High Lord would set you up with would be a male from his Inner Circle, it would be foolish otherwise.

As far as you knew, he only had two males in his little group. They were Cassian, his general and “lovingly” referred to as the Lord of Bloodshed, and Azriel. Not much was known of Azriel, he didn’t speak much during visits. All you knew of him was his station in the High Lords Inner Circle, his spymaster and the Shadowsinger.

Frankly, the male terrified you. Whenever the High Lord brought him along on his few and far between trips to the Hewn City, he would just stand in the farthest corner, watching. It always left you with a disturbed feeling. The Shadowsinger was a known weapon. The former High Lord had used his talents for torturing during the war 500 years ago. That fact alone was enough to send you running.

The other one, Cassian, was deadly too. He was a natural killing machine, or so you’ve heard from Keirs Darkbringers. You knew it wasn’t likely for a marriage, however, between yourself and the Lord of Bloodshed. The last you had heard, he was already mated. This left you with the lethal spymaster. You return to your seat as you feel your heart begin to plummet quickly to your stomach as you await your fathers answer.

“Based on the look on your face,” you tend to show every thought in your head on your face, “you already know the answer,” your father said, not really answering the question.

“Just tell me, please.” softly pleading with your father to confirm your fate.

“It’s the Shadowsinger,” he sighed. Even though you knew that would be his answer already, you can’t help but deflate at the confirmation of it.

“So, that’s it then? I’m being shipped off to marry the Shadowsinger?’ You were typically soft-spoken, as most females in the Hewn City are taught to be, but the idea of marrying someone you were also taught to fear wasn’t something you could treat softly.

Your father let out another sigh, this one filled with exasperation, “it’s not that simple, my daughter.”

“Then simplify it for me,” you need a reason. If you were to marry the, potentially, most dangerous male in Prythian then you’d need answers. Now. “I’m not a child anymore, father,” you remind him.

“It would seem the High Lord is looking to unify his two courts,” your father begins to explain. You nod as he continues, “he asked for the spymaster to wed you, specifically. I am the highest ranking official in this court, next to Keir and I happen to have a daughter eligible for marriage,” he gives a slight nod towards you.

“The High Lord has also promised me that you will be taken care of by him,” his expression turns serious “no harm is to come to you.”

A frown takes over your face as you learn of the High Lord's reasoning. Luckily relief floods as well, knowing you have your safety has been promised. You begin to just nod your head, processing it all.

Finally, you take a deep breath, exhale, and give your response, “okay.”

“Okay?” your father askes, surprised at how accepting you sound.

“Okay,” I defeatedly nod, “he’s the high lord, I should follow his command,” I reason. You could learn to live with the Shadowsinger you supposed. How bad could he honestly be?

“I’ll inform the High Lord of your decision,” your father begins to finish the conversation, “thank you for doing this, my child. Your people thank you.”

You give him a sad smile before removing yourself from your seat and make towards his door to leave.

As you enter the hallway, alone at last, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts. The thought that you will be helping to bring these two feuding courts together at last. A slight smile blooms on your lips with the hope of being remembered as an immortal legend to your people.

—

“Are you being fucking serious Rhys?” Azriel fumes to his brother.

“Az,” Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tightly, “please. You’ll be helping with bringing peace between my two courts.”

Azriel shakes his head in disbelief. When Rhysand told him that he found a bride for him he thought it was a joke. He was the Night Courts spymaster and he couldn’t figure out his own brother was planning to get him engaged.

“Can’t you find peace without a marriage?” Az exclaims. It’s not often he finds himself yelling at Rhys.

Rhysand lets out a deep sigh that he’s been holding in for far too long, “we’ve tried Az. Maybe this way the courts can find a common ground.” Azriel can’t help but scoff at this entire situation, which sends Rhys into a fit. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Alright? I’m well aware. But I’m at my wits end here already Az and you throwing a tantrum isn’t helping,” Rhysand grows dark. “You’re marrying her next week, end of fucking conversation,” he adds.

Azriel rolls his eyes “this is unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Would you like to repeat that for the rest of the class Az?” Rhys eggs him.

“I said that this is fucking unbelievable,” Az snapped, “You and Cassian are allowed your mates but I’m not allowed to find mine?”

Rhysand begins to soften, feeling bad at the mention of his brothers lack of mate. He didn’t want to do this to Az but he wouldn’t be asking if there was no other option. “I want you to find your mate Az, I do,” this is when an idea sparks in Rhys’ mind.

Az catches the new look on Rhysands face. He’s seen it many times over their long friendship, it the look he gets when he has another bargain up his sleeve. “What is it now?” Azriel grits.

Rhysand just gives his usual devilish smile, “I’ll let you out of your marriage, if you meet your mate,” he bargains.

Azriel looks at him with widened eyes, “really? I just get to leave if I meet my mate?”

The High Lord nods, “yes. I still expect you to marry Y/N but, let's say you meet your mate later on, I give you permission to be with them. You just can’t be cruel about it to your wife,” Rhys explains his conditions.

Azriel feels relief wash over him at the bargain. He understands that it’s entirely possible he’ll never meet his mate but “if”.

He agrees that it’s a fair deal and reaches out his hand for Rhys to shake, “it’s a bargain.” Rhysand takes his brother's hand and as the deal is sealed they both feel the new tattoos inked upon their bodies. Azriel wonders where and what his new tattoo is, but that's something to be answered later.

“You’re still getting married next week,” Rhysand reminds.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Azriel rolls his eyes but says the words with a playful manner. For the first time since hearing of his arranged marriage, he feels hope. Hope that his mate is out there and still waiting for him.

—

A/N part 2: if you made it this far I really hope you enjoyed the story! I’m hopefully going to be starting the next part soon! Thank you so so much for reading

[hopelessromwriter]

Shattered Trust

Rhysand had never been this angry before. Not in the centuries he had ruled, not in all the wars he had fought. Not even under Amarantha’s reign had rage burned through him like this.

Because this wasn’t about war. This wasn’t about courts or politics.

This was about his daughter.

His daughter, who stood in front of him now, arms crossed defiantly, jaw clenched as she faced him without fear.

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.

She didn’t flinch. “I handled it.”

“You handled it?” Rhys’s voice rose, a storm beginning to gather in his chest. “You think sneaking off to the Autumn Court, alone, without telling a single soul, was handling it?”

Feyre stood beside him, her expression tight with barely contained fury. “You could have died.”

“I didn’t,” Liora snapped back. “And I got the information we needed, didn’t I?”

“That is not the point!” Rhysand exploded, his wings flaring out. Shadows curled at his feet, feeding off the barely restrained rage pulsing through him. “You disobeyed a direct order. You went alone. If something had happened—”

“But nothing did!” she argued. “And I would have told you eventually!”

Rhys let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Eventually?” His hands clenched into fists. “How, exactly, were you planning on telling us? Over dinner? ‘Oh, by the way, I infiltrated the Autumn Court on my own, but don’t worry, it all worked out’?”

Her silence was answer enough.

Nyx had been standing off to the side, arms crossed, his own anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. But now, he stepped forward. “What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was tight with frustration. “I would’ve gone with you. We all would have.”

Liora turned to her brother, something softer flashing across her face, but she held her ground. “I didn’t want to risk anyone else. I knew I could do it alone.”

Rhysand’s fury only grew. “You are not alone! You are never alone!”

She shook her head, exasperated. “I didn’t do this to spite you!”

“Then why?” Feyre demanded, stepping forward. “Why risk your life like this?”

“Because I wanted to prove that I could!”

The words echoed through the River House like a slap.

Rhysand inhaled sharply.

Liora’s breathing was unsteady, but she refused to break eye contact. “I’m not just your daughter. I’m not just the High Lord’s child. I’m a warrior, I’m a fighter. And I needed to prove it—to myself and to everyone else.”

“You have nothing to prove,” Feyre said, her voice soft but firm.

Liora shook her head. “Maybe you don’t think so, but everyone else does. The Inner Circle, the Illyrians, the other courts—they all see me as your daughter, Rhysand’s daughter, Feyre’s daughter. They don’t see me.”

Rhysand’s heart twisted.

“We never wanted you to feel like you had to live up to anything,” he said, his voice quieter now, though still edged with frustration.

“But I do,” she whispered. “And that’s why I did this. I wanted to prove that I’m more than just your child.”

Rhysand stared at her, at the determination in her eyes, the same determination he had seen in Feyre so many times before. And beneath the anger, beneath the fear, something else crept in—understanding.

He had been just like her once. Reckless. Desperate to prove himself.

Still, that didn’t erase the fury or the gut-wrenching fear that had clawed at him when he realized she had been in danger.

He exhaled slowly. “If you ever—ever—do something like this again, I will ground you for the next century.”

A flicker of relief crossed her face, as if she had expected worse. “Understood.”

Nyx still looked irritated, but he sighed. “Next time, you tell me first.”

She gave him a small, sheepish nod. “Okay.”

Feyre reached out, brushing a hand over their daughter’s hair. “We only worry because we love you.”

Liora swallowed. “I know.”

Rhysand stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “Never again,” he said, the command in his voice clear.

She met his gaze and nodded.

And for now, that was enough.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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Dreamers | Rhysand & Daughter!Reader

Summary: After Madja is away in business for two months, he has to find a healer to replace her in her absence, which happens to be you, his bastard daughter, and unbeknownst to him, Azriel’s mate.

Word Count: ~ 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, bad family relationship, mentions of prostitution, implied sex, but it ends happy don’t worry (PLATONIC BETWEEN RHYS AND READER)

A/N: This request was like perfectly matching up with my daydreams so thanks !! hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Throughout all your years of education and schooling, there was one truth you knew without having to be told.

You were unwanted. A mistake.

You’d always known that and hadn’t cared much for the first few years of your life. Your mother had been a prostitute, and your father had accidentally knocked her up. Whether it had been a mistake, or your mother had purposefully not used a contraceptive just to have a tie to the High Lord was still in debate, but you didn’t care much anymore.

He had tried to raise you, probably not wanting you to grow up a whore like your mother, but been trapped Under the Mountain, leaving you alone, your only real ties to him were through Cassian, who didn’t seem to care that you were a bastard child or your circumstances.

He felt like more of a father, sometimes.

You’d gotten your apartment in Velaris, working as an herbalist, and something of a medic, using the mingled magic of your mother and father to heal people. Some would say the job didn’t match your sometimes uncaring and blunt, even bitter demeanor. But you didn’t care what they said, and you never had. It paid the bills, and let you live relatively comfortably in your little shop when not in the apartment.

You had heard the rumors of Feyre, the Cursebreaker who’d freed your father, and by extension all the other High Lords from Under the Mountain. You’d seen the female and your father together, walking the streets happy as could be together, openly proclaiming their love, not to mention their baby.

After he’d been liberated, you hadn’t tried to seek him out, and he hadn’t with you. It was for the best, probably. You wanted nothing to do with his perfect little happy family and Inner Circle, you didn’t belong there, and you had no desire to. You hadn’t needed a father to grow up, and you didn’t need one now.

However, Madja was away on business, leaving you as the only other healer in Velaris capable of giving checkups to their child. It was for that reason, you suspected, that he invited you to a “family” dinner as if he’d ever treated you like family.

“It’ll be alright.”

Your mate, Azriel, spoke to you as he got ready to escort you into the House of Wind, where they wanted to have dinner that night. You hadn’t bothered to dress up nice or fancy, only donning some loose pants and a shirt, clothes you would usually work in.

Azriel had been your mate for nearly three years, having secretly accepted the bond, and decided to keep the relationship private for now, to let things settle down for now, and now had stretched into one year after another, until you were both content to live in the shadows.

“You know how I feel about them.”

You replied, sighing before quickly composing yourself at the clear mix of emotions on his face. His urge to defend his family and to empathize with you warring with each other in his mind.

You stepped forward, settling into his arms as you felt the shadows wrap around you, the environment shifting as your eyes remained open, and then you were there, the door to the House of Wind standing right in front of you. It felt wrong, to come back here after completely cutting off contact, only to be used for your healing abilities and medical knowledge for a half-sibling you’d never met.

Glancing over at Azriel, he gave a little nod, and you opened the door, setting foot inside the home and immediately confronted with the scents of multiple people. You could recognize some, Mor, Rhys, Cassian, maybe Amren? Only Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian were seated at the table, waiting for you. You’d heard news that Mor was visiting her private estate, and Amren off god knows where.

Expression as ticked off and blunt as you were feeling, you walked in, taking a seat as a plate of food magically appeared in front of you.

Rhys’ gaze ran up and down you, noting your clothes, simple cheap ones to get the job done, the herbs caked under your long nails, the calluses on your hands from handling your mortar and pestle so often, the way you didn’t smile at him or any of his family, or the same impassive and slightly annoyed look on your face. Something briefly appeared in his gaze, before being gone just as easily. Good. You had enough to deal with without any family problems.

“Hello, Y/N, I’d like you to meet -“

He spoke, voice sounding as confident as usual, but with a hint of a crack, as if testing the waters as he gestured towards Feyre.

“Your mate and son. I’m well aware.”

Your voice wasn’t like his, not with the silver tongue he had, tone blunt and straightforward. You didn’t refer to them by name on purpose, to make it seem like you hadn’t even cared to follow the news about him and his life. Like you were better. Feyre cast a sympathetic glance at Rhys, one that made your temper flare.

He shouldn’t get to be comforted for his past mistakes coming to bite him in the ass.

Cassian remained silent, exchanging glances with Azriel across the table. This was bound to happen eventually, and the General didn’t try any of his usual tactics to lighten the mood.

Rhys swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, probably to try and soothe you or make you less openly hostile, but you interrupted him.

“What do you want?”

You asked, tone blunt and cold, detached almost if it weren’t for the anger you held against him. He tried to hide his wince but failed to do it completely. That made you feel a bit better, at least. A sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. His expression sobered into one of resigned seriousness.

“Our healer, Madja, will be away on business for two months. You’re the most qualified to take her place if you would.”

He said. Feyre seemed a bit uncomfortable with the thought of you being the personal healer for their family for two months, and you didn’t blame her, considering your demeanor and history, but it still pissed you off.

“How much will you pay?”

You asked blandly, making it clear that the job meant nothing to you to get closer to them at all. All that mattered was the pay. Your mind was already calculating the costs, advantages, and disadvantages of taking the deal. He stiffened slightly, another small victory.

He stated a price, it was high, ridiculously so, in fact, but you weren’t complaining. Money was money. Even if you got it from your half-family.

“Sure.”

You said simply, still not touching your dinner. The food was tantalizing, but the thought of sending a message even more so. You wouldn’t dine at this table, not like how you had done so many years ago. Though your throat was parched, you didn’t touch the glass of water.

“Is that all?”

You asked, your mint green eyes, the same shade as your mother’s, meeting his violet gaze. Pure indifference was all you were determined to give him. After he’d forgotten about you, too obsessed with his mate and new child, the replacements, to bother with you.

“I was hoping you’d stay for dinner.”

He said quietly, a hint of pleading in his gaze. You felt a pang in your chest at that but shoved it down as you got up from your seat, not tucking it in. They could look at the seat pushed out after you left, and think about you. It would hopefully plague his mind like he plagued yours.

“Keep hoping. See where it gets you.”

You said dryly, walking out of the kitchen, out of that goddamned sentient House that remembered you even now, how it knew your favorite food, just the way you knew your mother had cooked it so long ago, or the way you’d loved the water from that river out back, one you still visited now.

You heard the harsh scratching of a chair against the wooden floor and footsteps, and before you could winnow away, you found that you couldn’t move.

Not metaphorically or rhetorically, you literally could not move your own body, and that’s when you became all too aware of the presence in your mind when your barriers had slipped because of your irritation. Your father finally released you as he stood behind you, you whirled to look at him, seething.

“Stay out of my head.”

You hissed, shoving him away from you even as he gave you a begging gaze.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me try, just give me one chance to be your father, one?”

He begged, voice cracking with desperation you’d never seen before, and it would’ve weirded you out a little if you weren’t frozen in place, throat even dryer now as you tried to think of something to say.

Despite how you denied it and wanted to be cold and vengeful towards him, deep down, that wasn’t what you wanted. Maybe a relationship with him wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice to leave you behind, he’d been kidnapped Under the Mountain, and been so busy putting his Court back together and handling a war that he hadn’t even been able to think about you.

You swallowed, sighing and giving a resigned nod.

“Just..meet me for breakfast tomorrow, I guess. At my apartment. It’s down the block to the right of Rita’s, you’ll know it when you see it.”

As soon as you said it, he pulled you into a gentle hug, feeling you stiffening under his touch. You weren’t the most touchy person with strangers, or people you didn’t know very well at that.

Breakfast tomorrow. Great.

*********************************************************

Az had already been late when he’d arrived at your apartment for the moment, his tedious little schedule for the recent mission already thrown off because of the extra time he’d taken bending you over a counter. Just as he gave you a little kiss on the cheek, opening the door to head out, he ran face-first into Rhys, the only thing stopping the two from kissing being the subtle height advantage Azriel had over his High Lord.

“What -“

Rhys began, and Azriel was gone quicker than you’d ever seen his shadows transport him. You dragged your father in, closing the door behind you.

“He’s my mate and has been for three years, but anyways, breakfast.”

You blurted in a rushed tone as you tried to ignore the obvious thing that had just happened. Rhys ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, seeming exasperated but not surprised.

“I thought so, Cassian said he’s been coming home smelling like you lately.”

He muttered under his breath as you slipped an oven mitt on, pulling a muffin sheet out of the oven and hissing as the oven brushed against your arm, leaving an angry little red spot. Your father’s eyebrows raised at that, and he walked over and turned your sink to a lukewarm temperature, grabbing you and easily moving you over to it to run the burn under it. Protective instincts were probably already kicking in for him, albeit a bit dusty and not used for anyone other than his new son.

He grabbed a roll of bandaging that was on your counter, from the other night when you’d also accidentally burned yourself while trying to open the oven with your bare feet, hands too busy. The oven-related incidents were getting a bit too often, now. Especially since Azriel threatened to throw the oven out if you didn’t stop getting hurt.

“Thanks.”

You managed to mumble as his slender fingers skillfully wrapped some of it around you, securing it easily. He gave a little nod, slipping an oven mitt on and dumping the muffins out, just shoving them all onto one plate he set on the small table with two chairs, one for you and Az.

He sat down, you sitting across from him, grabbing a muffin and unwrapping it, before just awkwardly eating in silence.

“So..”

You said, swallowing as you tried to think about how weird this conversation would be. He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his.

“I’m sorry, for not being there. There was just so much going on, with the war, Amarantha, not to mention Koschei…”

His voice trailed off at the mention of them.

“I..get it. You were busy with all that.”

“I still should’ve been there. You’re my daughter, and you grew up without a father because of me.”

You swallowed, trying to bite back the emotions that rose because of this conversation. He seemed to notice, violet eyes softening as his chair scooted a bit closer to yours, wanting to comfort you but unsure how to do so without further upsetting you. You suddenly felt bad for all your remarks and attitude earlier. He’d been trying, you hadn’t.

“We can start over if you want. Just father and daughter?”

You nodded, sniffling slightly. At that tiny sniffle, he couldn’t resist anymore, getting up and pulling you into his arms. This time, you didn’t stiffen, didn’t struggle, or try to pull away, you just cried into his chest in a way you usually only could do with Az. He held you close, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

“I think I’d like that.”

You managed to choke out as the tears dried up, and you looked up into his violet eyes, now noticing the golden flecks in them, like stars you could wish on.

Stars promising hope and a future of warmth and acceptance.

Tags:

@judeduartewannbe

[readychilledwine]

The Art of a Dress

Summary - After commissioning you to make some of his mother's designs come to life, Rhysand faces the reality that artwork is more than what's painted on Feyre's canvas and even fabric can envoke memory.

Warnings - Parenting, children, vague mention of death, angsty-ish, Liz not doing the Venus and Junon dresses justice, platonic reader relationship

A/n - The first of my Christmas fics that don't center around Christmas. I was inspired to write this after talking to @daycourtofficial . It's how I imagine Feysand having a daughter will go.. Her and Feyre would constantly coordinate or match outfits. They'd be that mommy daughter duo.

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Starfall.

Rhysand was beyond ready for Starfall. The cherished holiday had begun to mean so much more than just the traveling of souls across the sky almost 7 years ago.

Specifically because of the little girl holding his hand, her long dark hair bouncing with each step as his son and Feyre walked behind them, warm cups of hot chocolate in hand. Nyx had grown into a handsome young male at 20 years old, turning and winking at his little sister as she held Rhysand's hand.

“Do you think y/n got the dress perfect, daddy?” Deep blue eyes looked up at him as Lenora looked up at him. Her sweet face was etched in concern.

Rhysand only felt his lips twitch up, thinking of his long time friend. You had been trained as a seamstress by his mother, and your designs had quickly become demanded all across the Night Court. Fashion was art to you, it held no boundaries, no limitations. It was self expression, freeing.

For that reason, you were the only one he trusted to create the twin gowns he had found in his mother's sketch book. “Without a doubt, starlight,” he said to her. “It is probably better than we imagined.”

“It's just my big birthday,” she whispered, almost afraid you would disappoint her.

“Every year is your big birthday, Lala” Nyx rolled his eyes before opening the doors to white shop filled with many windows. Each window had a different display. Gowns and decor showing off y/n's skills and mastery of the craft.

You had opened today just for the High Lord and his family. The Inner Circle was already all seated as you locked the doors and then hugged Feyre, “I think we start with you, momma,” you said to her. “I need to talk to Rhysand really quick if you three want to head back,” you motioned towards the velvet sitting area for Nyx and then the dressing room for Feyre.

Lenora had already run to Azriel, picked up in his arms as you looked at Rhysand. “So, we need to have a gentle talk.”

Rhysand gave you a playful shoulder shove, “Price is no concern. I know you probably put in a lot of effort.”

“It's not about price. It's about Lenora. These dresses were originally designed for your mom and sister. Who your daughter looks a lot like.”

Rhysand brushed it off, having mentally prepared, at least he thought, “I'll be okay.”

You only nodded. “Then we should start.” You followed Feyre only laughing as you saw her face. The dresses you had been given to design were works of true artistry and would fall into the history of Night Court iconic moments.

The dress was a deep rich black with a fairly simple top. A straight strapless neckline with black beading that was heavier towards the top and faded to the drop waist. Two solid panels of matching black fabric at the top and on the waist.

The skirt was where the magic began.

The skirt was layered with elongated scallop shapes that felt almost flower petals like. Each one had silver and purple jewels and sequins sewn into the edges and up. Even the train matched the details, not a single spot looking out of place.

You had spared no expense on this dress, which, to Feyre, meant her daughter's matching dress would be just as fantastic.

Feyre was silent except for the occasional emotional huff of air as you pulled up the hidden zipper. “Is it comfortable,” you asked softly.

“Yes. Not even nearly as heavy as I expected.”

You nodded at her statement, “The fabric is from Scythia. It is so buttery soft it's extra gentle on your skin. I won't get into the details on the sequins and jewel work with you. Your dear husband.. spent far too much money getting me the ones he wanted for quality.”

The High Lady nodded, “Can we show them?” You helped her step down before opening the curtain. It was a collective gasp as the first of two dresses made its debut.

Rhysand immediately circled his mate like a hawk, checking the quality of the beading placement, the cuts of each scalloped edge. “Fantastic,” he finally approved. “You look beautiful, Feyre Darling.”

Feyre was all smiles before glancing at Lenora, “I imagine you don't want to wait to see yours?”

“No,” the princess immediately ran into the dressing room, making you laugh as you pulled the curtain and began helping her.

Her dress was similar to Feyre's, only adapted to fit her slender and youthful self. This dress had heavy black beading on the strapless top. This dress had a scalloped edge neckline that seemed to melt into the drop waist. The skirt had an over layer, scallops that matched Feyre's in color and design, only this dress had one layer before falling into full shining black tulle skirts. The back was your favorite part. Those scallops continued in the back, that petal look and texture running just the train of the princess-like gown. You and Rhysand had selected this to be Lenora’s dress for weight reasons, and as you zipped her up, you didn't regret that choice.

You glanced at the little princess in the mirror, “Do you love it?”

“Yes,” her excited scream had the room beyond them laughing.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Yes!” She ran out then, you laughing as she did and barely making it to the curtain.

She had expected joy, smiles, and laughter. She was welcomed with silence, with Azriel immediately having to leave the room, Cassian squeezing his hands together. Amren and Mor touched Feyre and Nyx, indicating for them to follow the two of them out.

Rhysand had prepared, he told himself as his hands shook. He had mentally readied himself to see his daughter in this gown. Yet that preparation failed in comparison to seeing what he was looking at.

Cassian stood, “I'm so sorry,” he left the room, tears beginning to fall.

“Its not you,” you murmured to Lenora as her little lip trembled. “Shh. It's not you. Give daddy a second.”

Rhys closed his eyes before walking over and kneeling down to her. Lenora broke the silence, “Is it ugly?”

“Mother no,” his voice was breaking. “I'm so sorry baby. This Isn't the reaction you deserved you just-” he looked up at you before taking a deep breath to continue. “You look like your auntie.”

“Like Auntie Ness or Auntie Elain," she glared. There was a right answer.

“No. Like my sister. Like Evangeline.”

The almost 7 year old felt her little face falling. She knew her dad had a sister. One who was gone. But she didn't know the reason why. “Is that why you're all sad?”

“They aren't sad,” you whispered before leaving. "Trust me, dove.

Rhysand thanked your intervention silently. It gave him a moment to process and breathe. “You look so beautiful and grown up,” he studied her face. His daughter wasn't the spitting image of him. No, Lenora was his sister. That same fierceness in her eyes. The same emotional need for approval. That same desire. He had not seen it before, but something about this dress highlighted it.

Cassian was the first to return, “I'm sorry,” he said to Lenora. “I needed a second. I hope you can forgive an emotional old male.”

“Do you think I'm pretty,” she brightened up.

“Oh absolutely. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.” Only Rhysand knew the significance of that sentence. Of who it was last said to. “Might have to tell Ness she needs a new Starfall date and keep you all to myself all night.”

Lenora made a little shocked face before cuddling with Rhysand, “But daddy promised me a dance.”

“I'd surrender you once to your dad. Then all Uncle Cass time,” his voice and smirk were playful though it didn't reach those almost sad eyes. Cassian hugged Lenora, taking the healing that came with that contact and sighing softly “Give Uncle Azzy a few more minutes. Y/n is talking to him.”

And a few more minutes is what it took. Azriel entered with a small box in hand. A little tiara you had paid Neve to make to match Lenora’s dress inside. He wordlessly turned his niece to face the mirror before opening the box and placing the amethyst and grey diamond tiara into her long dark curls. His hands then went to her little shoulders resting there. “Do you know how much we all love you,” Azriel asked her.

“More than the stars?”

All three males nodded. “You look so much like her,” Azriel's voice was tight. “And that is a special thing. Your aunt was a light in darkness. Her smile and laughter brought unmatched happiness when your dad, Cassian, and I needed it most.”

“And now you do,” Rhysand told her, finishing Azriel's thought while squeezing his brother's bicep. “You are perfect, my little love.”

Lenora smiled at herself in the mirror, then as Nyx entered in the suit that coordinated with his baby sister. Her brother wasted no time bringing added excitement to the room by carefully picking her up and standing in the mirror. “We are good looking.”

“Very,” Lenora giggled. “You're handsome.”

“You're breath-taking.”

The three older males watched the sight silently. Feyre joined them again and rested her head on Rhysand's bicep. Mor entered again, still wiping tears. Amren only smiled as she came in with you.

Nyx was still talking to Lenora, pointing at things in the mirror to show his little sister details she missed. The older fae were all silent, this moment closing a wound that they'd hoped was long forgotten.

Nyx, the very image of his father. Lenora the very image of her long gone aunt.

Rhysand finally cleared his throat, “Nyx, let your mother stand by Lala. I want to see the dresses side by side.” The princeling nodded and set his sister down, standing with a hand out to help Feyre onto the pedestal.

“Stunning,” Mor said first. “They're fantastic.”

“Artwork,” Amren flatly said. “These gowns are artwork. They will need to immediately be put in your family archives, High Lord.” A murmur of agreement filled the room, your face flushing.

“You did amazing,” Azriel whispered in your ear. “We had a little doubt this time around with how she drew these.”

“Me too,” You admitted. “I definitely did too.”

Lenora looked gorgeous the next night, faelights twinkling off the jewels on her and Feyre's gown. Nyx currently was waltzing with Feyre. The two of them were only outshined by the birthday girl on her very special day. Her and Rhysand were swaying, her father having picked her up to do so. “I love my dress, daddy.”

He hummed, “I love it too. Happy birthday, my starlight.”

“Thank you,” she leaned her head into him. “Its the most special birthday.”

“The most special birthday for my most special girl,” he said. “Always my most special girl.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea Right? - Part 9

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What are friends for if not for meddling? A certain daughter of spring and her heir apparent lover scheme to bring a stubborn Shadowsinger and her Autumn High Lord mate back together.

A/n: remember when I said this would be the final part? I was wrong. Sorry! Don’t hate me. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue.

Part 8 Series Masterlist Part 10

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, alcohol

In hindsight, perhaps I was a bit dramatic. But in my defense, what the fuck??

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is my mate?

And he’s known since the moment he met me?

I am a fool, truly. There’s no other explanation. Perhaps I may not be as perceptive as my father or nosey little sister but I’m pretty damned adept in reading a room.

Yet I’d been fucking my mate for two years with zero clue. No wonder my damned shadows enjoy playing with him so much. But to be fair, who wouldn’t? I mean look at him. The muscles, graceful stature, those auburn locks of hair, that arrogant smirk that I want nothing more than to kiss right off his stupid, gorgeous face.

And in the face of the truth, I fled. Like a coward.

��Sissy?” Azalea’s concerned voice interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

Her little hand squeezes mine. “Ice cream makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

“That sounds wonderful, Azzie.”

With that, my mother gave a soft smile and strode to the kitchen to retrieve my favorite strawberry flavor from the ice box.

I looked down to my sister to find her brows drawn together and lips pursed, wings sagging just a bit. “What’s going on, Azalea?”

“I told Eris that what he did was bad but sissy, I don’t think he’s bad. But you were so sad.”

Oh.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry. I appreciate you and your loyalty. I’m lucky to have such a kind little sister and you know what? I bet Eris would prefer for you to stick up for me instead of ignoring my feelings. Because you’re right, he is not bad. He’s not a bad male at all.”

“Then why are you so sad?” question shone in her eyes as she waited for a response.

“I’m upset because I believed that he liked me for me - but now that I know he knew I was his mate from the moment we met, it makes me feel like he only likes me because of a bond that neither of us have control over.”

The winged little girl pondered before replying, “He can still love you for who you are even with a bond. I didn’t have control over being your sister, but I like you a lot. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my sister.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Since when was my little sister so wise beyond her years? Yet still - it stings. It stings for there to have been so many secrets and perhaps he had good reason to hide it. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want me beyond the most base level of a mating bond. The sex was incredible. Yet, he was the one who took me on a date tonight. Still came around despite my father’s ominous presence. An ugly voice inside of me whispered that it was all to gain a political foothold, yet the more rational side of me could feel that it wasn’t truth.

A bang on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Azzie’s wings rustle, little legs bounding across the room in search of the unexpected intrusion, her hazel eyes peering out the foyer window. My heart fluttered briefly - could it be him? What would I say?

The racing sensation in my chest faltered as my shadows briefed me of the visitor’s identity.

“Azzie, can you go ask mom to scoop an extra bowl of ice cream?”

She didn’t miss a beat as her little feet took off into the kitchen where she animatedly informed our mother of the visitor at our doorstep.

Another knock and a shout of “Open up the door, bitch! I know you’re in there.” had me letting out a flustered breath and scurrying to allow the nuisance entry into my home, greeting her with “How do you even know where I live?”

“Well,” Layla let out an exasperated sigh, taking a step into the fae-light illuminated foyer. “For one, it’s nice to see you again too. Second, Daemati boyfriend, remember?” Pointing a finger to her head with an incredulous expression, she continued. “Third, you didn’t see me fleeing when my tits were out in front of your entire family. THANKS for that.”

Shame flooded my features but she cut off any attempt at an apology for leaving her in the uncomfortable predicament with Nyx. “Eh, I like to think of myself as a bit of an exhibitionist. I just never imagined my first foray into such endeavors would involve the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. ANYWAY-“ the blonde gave me a pointed look, summoning two bottles of wine from a pocket realm. “I brought vino for our troubles.”

Twenty minutes later and we’d all soothed our wounds with ice cream and Azalea peppering Layla with questions about anything and everything she could think of.

I could have fallen through the floor when she gleefully informed Layla that she did indeed try to stop us before barging in upon her and Nyx’s more private affairs. Layla only laughed and flashed me a vulgar gesture when Azalea wasn’t looking.

Azalea eventually dozed off somewhere between Layla and I’s second and third bottle of wine when she jumped up with a shriek. “Oh my gods! What’s the name of that bar you lot love so much? Rose’s?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rita’s?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Let’s go! Girls night out.”

“Layla, why don’t we go somewhere the Inner Circle doesn’t frequent? Somewhere a bit more youthful?”

With a dismissive wave she shush’d me. “No way. Let’s be tourists. Wouldn’t anyone visiting want to go to THE spot that the Court’s upper echelon frequent? Let’s go dazzle the citizens of Velaris with our sexy moves. I’ll let you grind against me if you’re good.”

I laughed at my friend’s peculiar method of cheering me up but honestly, a night out to let loose before facing the rocky road ahead sounded like just what I needed.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

———

Rita’s was more packed than usual as an attendant led Layla and I back to the Inner Circle’s standard table, we snaked through the crowded floor, brushing shoulders with the ocasional dancing patron when I overheard a voice muttering about the “sexy High Lord” she’d bumped into at the bar.

I reached to grab Layla’s attention but it was too late as I looked up to find her cozied up to Nyx with my uncles, my father, and my- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Looking past my friend with her shit-eating grin, I see the gorgeous face of my mate.

————————

Eris

He stood dejected in the basement of the gallery, trying to process what had just gone down.

Never did he imagine this was how the night would turn out. Under normal circumstances, he would be traveling back to his court to look into the father of the Day Court female who’d tried holding him hostage but Helion would look further into it and send word. He was not in a place to fairly handle such a situation given that the thought of them laying a hand on his mate made him burn with rage.

So he stood there, taking steadying breaths about to leave when a low whistle rang out behind him and a large hand clapped his back. “Ouch. Not the ideal way to reveal a mating bond.”

Eris scoffed, readying an unbecoming retort when Cassian continued, “Been there. It’s not easy but you two will work it out. Beer helps. Care to grab a drink at Rita’s while Nyx and Rhys work their shit out? Probably not the best for you and Azriel to be alone together at the moment anyway.”

To his credit- Azriel only let out a semi-annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.

What the fuck was this evening becoming? Mating bond unveiled and now getting drinks with a male who had every right to loathe him.

But Eris didn’t have it in him to deny the offer. So with that, he found himself at Rita’s with the Night Court general.

“I’m just saying that these Archerons, they’re lovely and great but… they’re headstrong.” He put two palms up in the air. “Now before you jump to conclusions, it’s not a BAD thing. The gods know Nesta has handed my ass to me when I’ve needed it many times over the years but sometimes…. Sometimes you’ve just got to give them time to come around.”

Eris could have reminded Cassian that most females would need time to come around to such a reveal but… the male was making an effort and Eris had nobody else to talk to about such a situation.

He supposed he could have tracked down Lucien but the matter felt a bit too sensitive to address at the moment given the rejected bond between he and Elain and the very obvious fact that Eris’ mate was the result of that rejected bond.

“Hey- I’m here making an effort. At least try to appear like you’re not tuning me out.” Cassian waved a hand before him.

“Apologies.” Eris smirked, refusing to let the male see him too down and out. “Just processing everything.”

“Well, finish the rest of this beer and we can order some of that autumnal shit you all prefer in your court for the next round. Unless you’re too prissy and have some fancy shit you High Lord’s prefer.”

Eris recognized the bait for what it was, given that he knew Cassian would be the first to indulge in Rhysand’s top shelf liquors.

Eris lifted the foaming mug to his mouth and downed the entire beer before placing it back down on the counter. “Another Illyrian draft is just fine.”

The large male beside him let out a hum that almost seemed like approval. “Maybe you’re not such a cunt after all, High Lord.”

“Yeah, well keep that between us.”

Cassian held up two fingers as the bar keep gave him a nod and Cassian pointed to a table in the corner.

No sooner than they’d seated themselves did Rhysand and Nyx enter the establishment, a hesitant Azriel behind them.

“Sorry.” Cassian shrugged. “Rhys sent word a couple minutes ago. Figured we could all use a round after this evening.”

Rhys looking a bit disheveled in comparison to that usual air of arrogance he exuded, giving a cocky grin as eyes within the establishment fell upon him. His son on the other hand still appeared a bit out of sorts given the inconvenient revelation of he and the daughter of Spring to his entire family.

The Shadowsinger only gave a curt nod in greeting, expression remaining stony.

Through a boisterous laugh the general teased, “Welcome to the shit show.”

The tension at the table was palpable, Azriel glaring daggers through Eris, Nyx very clearly communicating mind to mind with someone, Rhys slowly losing his resolve in maintaining his collected facade. Cassian, ever the instigator, broke the silence. “So, mates, huh?”

Azriel’s cold gaze averted from the Autumn High Lord to the General, promising violence. “Hey-“ Cassian raised his palms again. “It’s not so bad. She could have been mated to Tamlin.”

Had it not been for the mating bond chafing his ass, Eris could have laughed but he only bristled at the thought of his mate with any other male.

“Ouch!” Cassian yelped as the violet-eyed High Lord kicked him under the table.

“Oh come on! None of us handled our mating bonds perfectly, and I know damn well that any of you would be enjoying this mess if roles were reversed. You’re just pissy, I remember very clearly the shit you gave me when this fucker,”pointing a calloused finger to Eris with a cheeky grin, “proposed to Nesta!”

Eris really wanted to fall through the floor at this point. “But she was my mate, and look at us now? Remember those days at the dining table, Az?”

Shadows whirled violently around the Spymaster. “You’re not obligated to speak every little thought that pops into your mind.”

Though it was clear the Shadowsinger was deathly serious, Cassian only waived him off and Nyx burst out laughing, egging his Uncle on.

“Mating bonds aren’t everything.” Azriel growled out, “You’re not entitled to her. She’s her own person and can choose what her heart wants.”

Eris raised an eyebrow at the implication. He was well aware that he played the bastard role well but he would never-

“Are you implying, Shadowsinger, that I would not let your precious daughter choose? And believe me, I’m well aware of the atrocities and the merits that can come from a rejected mating bind. I remember the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon my brother when his own bond was rejected, the uncontrollable waves of grief that still sometimes roll through him.” Azriel sat, stone faced at the reminder that his wife was not his mate. Eris didn’t give him time to react, continuing.

“But I’m also well aware that if not for that pain and that rejected bond, I would be without my beloved nephew, or my curious new friend who thinks of even the smallest of denizens of your court matter - who treats me like I’m just a person and not the arrogant prick the rest of the world views me as.”

Eris placed a broad palm to his own chest, clutching as if in physical pain as the next words left his lips. “And do you not think, Shadowsinger, that I don’t recognize the fucking treasure that came from that rejected bond? The irony that my brother’s rejected bond resulted in the greatest gift of my life? And while I’d love to covet that treasure, care for her, let her shine for all of those to see - to know that she’s mine - it’s not my choice. It’s hers. If she wants to shine with someone else? Gods, it will hurt like hel, but I’ll remember her with nothing but love in my heart. She wants to stay on her own, making her own way in the world? I’ll stand back and cheer for her. I think you’re well aware that NOBODY chooses for your daughter but her.”

Azriel remained stone faced, a hand resting to the handle of the foaming mug of mead before him. Cassian let out a huff. Nyx smirked and Rhysand only looked at Eris with something that almost appeared to be respect.

Azriel finally shook his head, raising the mug in Eris’ direction. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

All eyes at the table darted to him in shock. The famed, merciless spymaster standing down.

Eris only lifted his own mug in return and that was that.

The next hour went by as smoothly as possible, the table ordering several rounds of drinks. Eris nearly pissed himself when the shock of a caress against his mental shields caught his attention, Nyxs’ amused voice only stating, “You can thank me later.”

Eris’ brows drew together, puzzled by what on earth he’d have to thank the heir for, as a blonde female fell into the seat beside the male. A familiar scent wafting into his nostrils.

His mate.

Gods, she looked fucking fantastic and Eris knew right away he’d have to glamour the involuntary scent of arousal wafting from him at the sight of her ethereal face, those fucking hips that he wanted to hug as tightly as that little dress did - his inhibited state not helping the situation whatsoever. She only glared at him, as she stood beside the table, sweet voice dripping with irritation,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Gods, she was trying to kill him. Her arms pushing up her immaculate breasts. Was he salivating? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare if her father caught wind of just how the sight of her was affecting him.

But most of all, he only felt love and adoration as he stared at the prickly female glaring daggers through him. Truth-Teller would certainly feel less violent against his skin than the sharp gaze piercing into his heart.

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Eris pleaded.

“Right. I’m leaving.” She huffed.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” the blonde female interjected. “You’re not just going to ice him out. It’ll hurt you worse than any words ever could. You two need to TALK.”

Nyx looked to the female with pride.

“I’m not finished with YOU.” Y/N hissed with rage to her friend.

“Oh I have no doubt.” The female - Layla - fired back. “But first you’re going to work things out with your mate.”

With an irritated look to her friend, she grabbed Eris by the wrist with a reluctant “Come on, we’re LEAVING.”

Eris threw a grateful look to Nyx and Layla, standing with no resistance to the grasp his mate had on his wrist. Azriel grunted and began to stand, but Rhys threw an arm out, keeping him seated. And to Eris’ surprise, the Shadowsinger remained.

Cool air and the aroma of spices from the surrounding establishments greeted the pair, an otherwise perfect evening to drape his arm over her shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into her pointed ear as they passed the shops, but she only tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?? Winnow me to your apartment and let’s get this over with.”

Eris stepped forward, caressing her wrist in a lovers grasp, sensuous smirk forming on his lips. Fire in his blood or no, chill bumps rose up her olive skin, nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

“As you wish.” And winnowed her straight to the foot of his bed. He’d let her lead from there but if there was one thing he knew about his mate, she firmly believed all was fair in fucking and fighting. It was all in her hands how the night would go.

————————————————

A/n: Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter! Life has been hectic (seasonal illnesses, end of the fiscal quarter, traveling sports, mental health struggles, etc) and my brain was just not cooperating with this chapter. After writing a few one shots I was able to get back into the proper headspace but found I was still struggling to transfer this chapter from my brain into print. I eventually realized I wasn’t ready for the story to end quite yet so with that being said this is NOT the final chapter. I hope you all don’t hate me for saying it was before changing my mind but it’s important to give the story the satisfying ending that it deserves. 🥰

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria

Eris general: @angiedsv

Series tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

[fanttasttica]

Family

Helion x reader, Rhysand x daughter reader

You never knew your parents and yourself. One day you decide to leave your home and try to find something about yourself and your family. You come to the Day court, where you meet their cunning High lord, who also happens to be your mate. But your mate isn't the only person you found..

warnings: mentions of nudity

words: 2764

It was a nice summer day. A wind gently caressed your cheeks, as you were looking at your friends, who were enjoying the day with their families. Fathers, mothers.. siblings. That was a luxury you have never known. You never knew your father or mother. The closest thing you had to parents were Christian and Lucille, who found you one day and raised as their own. You actually thought they were your parents, until they came clean when you reached your eighteen birthday. They knew you deserve the truth. Since then, you were jealous and happy at the same time for your friends, who had families on their own. You were watching them from a smaller distance, as they were laughing together wishing you could have something like that too. Not that you were not grateful for Christian and Lucille, you loved them but.. You wanted to find out who your parents were. Whose violet eyes were looking at you in the mirror? Did you have the same black hair as your mom? Was your smile similar to the smile of your father? Those were questions you earned an answer for.

You grew up in the mountains in Night court. Your village was quite small, nothing extraordinary here. It was not far from the borders the Night court shared with the Day court. You could walk there maybe after two or three hours. That means that sometimes you meet people traveling between these two courts. People who were more than willing to share stories. That was how you found out about Amarantha being dead. You knew her, of course you did. Everyone in Prythian did. She trapped all High lords under the mountain, took their powers.. They were helpless until one day a human girl named Feyre freed them. You were fascinated by her story. She was now your High lady, finally being happy with Rhysand, your High lord and you found that really nice. That they found each other after all that. You heard all stories about them and about other High lords and interesting people from travelers, merchants.. You were always listening to them very carefully, until one sunny day, when you decided to stop being the listener and become the traveler, narrator, yourself. It was an opportunity to get to know new places, people.. and maybe find out something about your parents.

“Are you sure you want to go? I mean..it can be really dangerous.” You smiled at your friends. “I am sure. I love you guys, I love this place but.. I just want to try and find out something about my parents, about me. And I think that's the thing I cannot accomplish here.” She sighed and nodded as a sign that she understands you. “Well.. I will not stop you, if that is really what you want. Just.. be careful and don't forget us.” You hugged her tight, trying to find back tears. “How could I ever forget you? You are my best friend, sister, even though we don't have the same parents. I will never forget you, don't worry. And also.. this isn't definitely the last time you see me. I will come back.”

It has been almost two months since you left. After almost a month of traveling, you came to the town which was surrounding the palace of Helion, the Day court´s High lord. Probably the sexiest male alive. You had only seen him once, from afar when he was walking and talking with some of his friends near the shop you worked. You found a job in a smaller café, simply because you needed money and you also quite quickly fell in love with the city and wanted to spend some time here. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay.. A few months? Year? But it didn't really matter. Your job did not only provide you with the money , no. It also helped you meet a few nice people you befriend and could spend time after work. It was nice, the days were not the same as in your old village. Every day brought something new, new skills you learned, new friends.. But the one day that stood out above all the days.. was the one when you met your mate.

It was almost noon when the bell rang and he walked into the café, where you were currently working. Helion stood in the doorway and was looking around the place as if he was searching for something, or rather someone. And then, suddenly, he looked at you, his already big smile grew even bigger. At that same moment, you felt something in your chest, in your heart. Mating bond. It snapped immediately, taking the air from your lungs. You blinked a few times, not daring to move or look away from his gaze as he walked closer to you. “Hello my little sunshine.” 

From that moment, you didn't spend a day without a stolen moment with Helion. You found out that he already knew about the mating bond. It snapped for him a few minutes before he came in, as he was casually walking around the café. He saw you and needed only a few minutes before you he plucked up the courage to go talk to you. You decided to take things slowly. He was coming to the café, where you chatted when you were working. After a week he invited you to a date, to a beautiful restaurant, theater, then he took you on the picnic.. And that's basically how you ended up waking up in his large bed, with nothing but sheets on your naked body. 

You two were seeing each other for almost three months. It was already winter, but that did not bother you. Helion was hugging you, his big and warm body was better than any blanket in the whole world. You were enjoying this quiet morning in his embrace, when you felt he was already waking up. His breathing changed and grip on you strengthened, as if he also wasn't ready to wake up and leave your bed. You giggled at him, whereupon he grunted. “Is there something funny, sunshine?” You sighed happily. “Just one certain High lord who is behaving like a little child who doesn't want to share his toy with anyone else.” He chuckled, turned you around, so you were now lying on your back on the comfortable mattress and he was towering over you in all his glory. You bit your lips at this sight. “But I don't want to share you with anyone else.” He started placing soft kisses on your neck, which was full of hickeys from the previous night. “I don't think that's possible. My shift is starting in an hour and you also have a lot of work.” You argued, trying to keep your thoughts clear, even though the idea of ​​spending the whole day with your mate in bed was more than tempting. “That's why I want you to quit. You know I can take care of you, I want to take care of everything you need or want” This time it was you who chuckled at his idea. “And what would I do? Spend all my time in your bed, waiting for you to return? It would be boring.” You caressed his beautiful face. Admiring his beauty, before he spoke again. “You could always come with me to the meetings, sit on my lap and warm me.” He winked at you, as you punched him slightly in his biceps. After that his face grew more serious. “I love you Y/N. More than my court, more than the sun, more than everything else.. Just say you want this and I promise I will give you everything in the world. I will make you my High lady. My equal. Just one word is enough.” 

It wasn't that hard a decision. You loved Helion with your whole being. You couldn't imagine a day without him. So you finally agreed. You gave him your answer that day, in the evening, when you served him dinner made by you. It was simple, private and even though Helion was known for parties, he really appreciated this. Mainly because after the meal he could immediately take to to the bedroom and fuck you all night without any disturbance. The only thing that was left to declare you his High lady. You urged him to wait a little. When you officially accepted the bond you also moved to his palace the next day and you simply wanted to get used to the new surroundings and to the bond, which was now stronger than before. He of course agreed to your wishes. But you still were slowly making plans for the celebration, because you decided to make this event publicly. Helion thought that it was only fair for his, yours, people to have an opportunity to witness this moment, when the first High lady of the Day court was crowned. And believed him, wanting to also make people happy, to make a good first impression and that was probably not possible if you were hiding in the shadows on that important day. You also decided to invite your and some of Helion's friends, which also included some other High lords and their families. You personally invited Thesan - High lord of the Dawn court, High lord of the Winter court and his wife, Tarquin, who was Hugh lord of the Summer court and lastly.. High lord, High lady of the Night court and their Inner circle. 

Before every meeting with other High lords you were incredibly nervous and Helion was trying to calm you down as he could and he was successful, but this time.. It was different and you weren't sure why you felt this way. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, your hands were sweating.. Maybe because you were supposed to meet the only other High lady that existed? Or maybe you were just nervous because you have heard a lot of stories about all of them? Rhysand was the most powerful High lord, his mate had powers of all seven High lords and her sisters were made by the Cauldron.. Not mentioning Cassian and Azriel, who were alive for more than five hundred years and killed more people than you have met in your lifetime. “Don't worry Y/N. They are really nice and don't bite more than me and you are already used to that.” Helion winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. This was something about him that you absolutely loved and at the same time found annoying. He was such a flirt. “I know and I believe you. Honestly.. I am not sure why I am so nervous.” You as and at the same time tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Before your mate could respond to you, you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked behind you and to your surprise you met the same eyes you had  and they stared back at you in shock.

There was silence as the others entered the room as well. They were looking at you with shocked expressions and you returned it, mainly to the man that had the same eyes as you. And after a few moments you noticed that the eyes were not the only thing you shared. You also had the same hair, similar features. In the end it was Helion who broke the silence. “I.. I never realized that.” It wasn't surprising he was not very receptive to these things. “That's.. How?” High lady asked, turning to face her mate, who also finally recovered from the shock. “I have no idea, Feyre darling.” He took a few steps towards you. You looked at Helion, not sure what to do. What to say. Was it even possible? Was this really your father or was it some cruel joke made by the Cauldron? How did it happen? “It's her.” You heard a sweet voice from the group. A girl, a woman, in a pink dress came closer. You shared a confused look with your mate. “The girl from my visions. Rhys's daughter.” 

To this moment, the only person who almost made you faint was Helion but when that woman said those words.. You had to grab your mate's strong arms, because otherwise you would be laying on the ground. This did not go unnoticed by your father and your mate, who grabbed you by your waist, holding you firmly. It was not only supporting in standing, it was calming you at the same time. Your father looked with worry. “Are you okay?” He asked you, you nodded in response. “I am, it's just.. a shock.” He smiled at you. “That's understandable. It's a shock for both of us. Well.. for all of us. He turned to his mate and Inner circle, as if he was having a quick conversation with them. After that, they came closer, introducing themselves with bright smiles. You have learned that the lady who was obviously a seer was Elaine, sister of your father's mate. It was Feyre who introduced herself to you last. It was a little bit weird for you, since she was a little bit younger than you and practically your step-mother, but she seemed nice. “By the way, what are you doing here? And how did you find my daughter, Helion?” You almost forgot they didn't know. Inviting High lords to your celebration was also a moment when Helion introduced you to them as his mate for the first time. He looked down at you and you gave him a simple nod. “Well.. she is my mate. And also my future High lady. We wanted to invite you to the celebration personally.” 

Once again, they were shocked, especially your newly found father, who was looking between you and Helion. You wanted to say something. Something that could make this situation a little bit less weird, but couldn't find the right words. In the end, silence was broken by Cassian's and Morrigan's augh. “Well, I did not see that coming.” Your aunt said with amusement in her voice. You smiled nervously, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the thin air. “Congratulations, it's amazing.” Feyre told you kindly and shook Rhysand's hand, so he would wake up from his trance. “Yeah.. congratulations.”He looked from you to Helion. “You better make her happy.” His words warmed up your heart. It was nice of him to look after you only after knowing you for maybe ten minutes. Maybe you were an adult, but that didn't mean you couldn't create a loving bond with him. After the first shock, you finally felt happiness. You had a parent! A father! And at that moment you realized something. With a hope in your eyes you turned to Elaine. “Do you also know who my mother is?”

The smile on her face and the faces of the others froze. Well, except for you and Helion, since you didn't know anything. Elaine swallowed hard, making eye contact with both your father and Feyre, again having some type of silent conversation. After a while, your father sighed. “Your mother.. Well.. Things get a little bit complicated here.” He breathed out. “Maybe you already heard of her. It is.. Amarantha.” It had to be incredibly hard for him to say that. After he said that, he looked away, hurt from memories that came back only after saying her name out loud. 

Of course you were in shock after finding out who your parents were. Being the daughter of the most powerful High lord and also a person who imprisoned not only him, but also your mate and a lot of other people.. Being the daughter of the person who killed and who was the main villain of many people's nightmares wasn't the best thing that could happen to you. But you were lucky to have your mate and also your father on your site. After finding out, you were really sad, angry, ashamed and also worried about what other people would think. What would Helion think? But luckily, he didn't care at all. He supported you, when you were recovering from the news and trying to accept them. He supported you when you tried and later successfully created a bond with your father, but also Feyre and their Inner circle. You were very lucky to have him, to have all of them. You finally had your own happy family.

[witchofhimring]

Family tensions (short fic)

Pairings: Tamlin x Reader, Feyre x Rhysand, Nyx x OC (Tamlin and Readers daughter)

Synopsis: Your daughter Tamar is mated to Rhysandss son Nyx.

Warnings: family tensions

Despite your insistent that this was in fact not the end of the word Tamlin still insisted this was the worst thing to happen. 'Have those Illyrian rats not taken enough from me!' Following your husband up the flight of stairs, you attempted to convince him that Tamar might just love Nyx. Of course you did not fully blame him. Given his past with the Night Court and its ruling lord and lady one could understand. You were torn between wanting to protect your husband and look out for Tamara. 'Perhaps we should talk to Tamar first?' Tamlin turned around. 'That is exactly what I intend to do!'

Unfortunately, the pair of you had horrible timing. Because when the door to Tamara's room was opened it was not just your daughter there, but Nyx.

Tamlin looked ready to pass out. There his daughter and Nyx were, Tamara on his lap reading a book. The moment they realized who had walked in both jumped up. 'What is this!?' Behind Tamlin came you. 'Hello Nyx.' You said politely. Oh dear. Nyx's blue eyes went back and forth between Tamara and Tamlin.

'Father, this is Nyx.' Tamara, looking unrepentant, stared defiantly at her father. It occurred to you that Tamara did not know the whole story between your families. Perhaps you should have been more forthcoming. 'Tamara dear, could we talk about this in private?' You gave Nyx a tremulous smile. 'Yes. Boy, leave.' Nyx ignored your husband. Placing himself protectively before Tamara, Nyx drew himself to his full height. 'Tamlin calm down. Nyx could you go to your parents and speak to them about this?' It was best to deal with this diplomatically. Tamlin was mostly calm these days. Years had passed since you last saw him so angry.

'Nyx. You go and I will deal with my father.' Tamara placed a hand on Nyx's shoulder. 'Are you sure.' Nyx seemed unwilling to go. 'I will be fine. You being here will make things harder. Go back to your parents.' Reluctantly Nyx left, only when he was sure Tamara was safe. Against your will, you liked him for that.

'You were where!?' His father was leaning forward on the armchair of the throne. Nyx stood before his parents in the throne room. Empty except for them three of them, Nyx was wondering just how well this would go. His father had no love for the Lord of the Spring Court. To heard that his son was courting that lords daughter might just send him.

'Is that where you have been.' His mother sat on the throne. Rhysand looked towards his wife. 'You knew?' 'No my love. I had no idea where Nyx was. But our son is nearly grown now. Should he not be allowed to chose who he loves?' Feyre, although not having ever fully forgiven Tamlin, was of a mixed mind. She did not know his eldest child well. But the few times they met Tamara had been polite. And if this had been going on for years then perhaps this was not a hasty decision. Rhysand had no such debates. In this mind this was terrible. Under no circumstances was he to be in laws with Tamlin of all people.

'I do love her father.' Rhysand raised an eyebrow. 'And what if this is a plot?' Both Feyre and Nyx looked shocked. 'Father-you can not mean-) Nyx spluttered. 'Tamara is true to me. And Lord Tamlin was nearly red with rage and-'Rhysand raised a hand. 'I'm sorry, he was what?' 'Furious. I doubt Lord Tamlin will agreed to this marriage.' Suddenly Rhysand smiled, eyes lighting up. Suddenly this marriage seemed like a terrific idea. 'Furious was he.' Rhysand was starting to think this marriage was not such a bad idea.

The idea that Tamlin might be furious over this possible marriage made the idea of uniting their families seemed a splendid idea. Rhysand nearly giggled himself sick with delight. Feyre told him he best behave. Especially since a month later they were invited to the Spring Court. Tamlin did not greet them. Feyre had never met Lady Y/n, but she had been polite, although warry. Feyre could understand why. If it had been the other way around she might be hesitant. Yet Y/n was polite and soon they were in the tea room. Feyre could not believe how different this place looked. Everything was so tidy and had a homely feel to it. Cakes and eat were placed on marble tea tables. Conversation was slightly stilted, Y/n seemed careful of every word she said. And that was when Tamlin entered. Feyre's hands clenched with anxiety. While Y/n was courteous Tamlin might not show the same restraint. Taking a seat, Tamlin kissed his wife on the cheek.

It was mostly Feyre and yourself talking. Despite your apprehensions she seemed nice enough. On the other side sat Tamlin and Rhysand sitting in stony silence. Tamlin seemed to be looking anywhere else but Rhysand, and Rhysand's mouth was placed in a frown. While the mothers seemed quite happy to chatter amongst themselves, the fathers looked like to smack each other. You prayed this would go well.

that was when Nyx and Tamara entered.

Notes: I plan to make more fics for this concept. This is kind of shorter than I would have liked but oh well. As I wrote this on a whim future fics might be slightly different. Hope you liked it! 💕

[azrielsdove]

hi, i love ur fics so much, they are all so well written! can i request a fic where reader is feyre + rhysands daughter and is secretly seeing tamlins son. rhys and tamlin catch them and all hell breaks loose, while feyre is just trying to calm everyone down.

Thank you lovely!!!! I am SO happy you are enjoying them. I hope this was what you wanted <3

Spring’s Son

Warnings: Suggestive, 18+

***

“I want to come with.” You said, waiting for your parents reaction. Your mother looked at you curiously, your father shrugging.

“Why not?” He replied, a smile coming onto his face. “Let’s make it a family affair, bring Nyx too!” Your mother rolled her eyes, knowing your father liked to flaunt their family in front of her old lover.

“Fine. Be ready after lunch, we are heading out then.” You nodded, bounding to your room in excitement. You took a long bath, cleaning every inch of your body. You took the time to perfectly do your hair, choosing a dress that you felt would pass with your parents. Truly, you were too old for them to argue you, but the High Lord and Lady were not forces to be reckoned with most days. You admired yourself in the mirror, appreciating your reflection. You looked lovely.

You met your parents after lunch, your brother already waiting with them. He looked at you, a knowing smirk on his face. “Dressed to impress, dear sister?” He teased, your eyes flashing a warning to him. Your mother had that look on her face again, like she was trying to solve an equation. Your father scoffed at your brother, batting him on the back of the head.

“She’s dressed like a Night Court princess should be.” He said, holding out his arms to grab yours. He admired you, ever the proud father. “My beautiful girl.” It was your brothers turn to roll his eyes, a trait he picked up from your mother.

“Alright, alright. Can we just go?” He asked, ready to get to the Spring Court. Nyx was especially good at pushing Tamlins buttons, that trait he took straight from your father. You mother tutted over him, smoothing his jacket down and ruffling his hair as the four of you prepared to winnow away.

***

You landed in the Spring Court with your father, your mother and Nyx close behind. Your parents linked their arms together, you and your brother following dutifully behind as you walked up to the manor. You spotted Tamlin at the top of the steps, his wife next to him. You strained your eyes, looking for the familiar mop of blond curls. You were dismayed to find that his son had chosen to not greet your family.

“Tamlin! Camellia! How good it is to see you, old friends.” Your father spoke, shaking hands and kissing cheeks.

“Rhysand. Feyre. Children.” Tamlin replied, nodding to each of you. “Come, let us head inside.” He led you into his beautiful home, you pretending to simply be admiring the decor as you looked around.

Where was he?

He was usually waiting with his parents whenever you had come, ever the polite Son of Spring. You knew you couldn’t ask, couldn’t draw attention to the fact that you came just to see him. You sat at the long table in the dining room, the seat across from yours remaining empty. You tried to ignore the disappointment rising in you, putting a polite smile on your face as dinner was served.

Dinner went rather uneventful, casual chatter happening over the meal. Your parents and Tamlin had long since forgiven each other, but that did not mean the teasing ended. “Now, Tam, can we be promised one of your delightful concerts after dinner?” Your father asked, a twinkle in his eyes. The High Lord of Spring looked up to the ceiling, as if asking the Mother for the patience to deal with the High Lord of Night.

“Why, Rhysand? You wish to show off those dance skills again?” Tamlin replied, a smirk on his lips. You let out a small laugh, remembering your fathers so-called ‘skills’. He shot a glare to you, a look that said You’re supposed to be on my side. You smiled at him, teasing.

At the end of dinner Tamlin stood, extending an arm to your parents. “Please, if we shall meet in the study. We have much to discuss.” Your parents stood as well, following Tamlin and Camellia down the hall. You were certain there wasn’t actually anything to discuss, just an excuse for the four of them to drink and gossip together.

You got up from the table, intending to go search for the son you so desperately wanted to see. Nyx clicked his tongue, calling your attention to him. “What?” you asked, arms crossing defensively in front of you.

“You could be less obvious. You looked like a wounded puppy when you saw he wasn’t here.” Your brother answered, leaning back in his chair. Your cheeks flushed at his words, teeth clenching.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You defended, heart racing. Were you truly so easy to read?

Your brother sighed, picking at his nails nonchalantly. “Sister, please. I know everything about you.” His words were cocky, the know-it-all bastard. You released your arms, turning to walk towards the door.

“Stay out of my business, Nyx.”

***

You carefully prowled the Spring Court manor, hoping you’d catch him at any turn. You stayed mostly to the areas you knew you were allowed to be in, not knowing how to explain yourself if you were caught. You ended up in the giant library, standing in front of the windows overlooking the gardens. There was a delicate beauty here, one that almost rivaled the deadly beauty of the Night Court.

You startled when two arms wrapped around your waist, lips pressing against your neck. The familiar scent of grass and honeysuckle swept over you, realization dawning. “Where were you?” you asked, sinking into his arms.

“Why? Did my Nightingale miss me?” He teased, leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. You softly moaned, hands clasping over his.

“I always do.” You said, turning in his arms. You looked at the long blond curls, the brilliant green eyes. He was as handsome as his father, with the beauty of his mother shining through. “Cyrus.” You whispered, a hand coming up to twist a lock of gold around your finger. “You have been ignoring me.”

He gave a small smile, leaning down to kiss you ever so gently. “Never, my dear. I have been out hunting from dusk to dawn with my father. Strange creatures are being seen on the edges of our court, I couldn’t let him go alone.” Cyrus explained, a hand coming to cup your face. “I am always thinking of you.” He murmured, his voice heavy. “Especially on lonely nights.”

A shiver shot through you at his words, desire spreading quickly. “Is that so?” You teased, leaning up to press kisses to his jawline. “What, exactly, do you think about?” You let your kisses fall to his neck, licking a stripe over his adams apple. He groaned, his arm tightening around your waist, the hand on your face coming to grasp your throat.

“You know better than to play with me when we have been apart so long.” He growled out, the hand on your throat tightening pleasurably. You moaned out, eyes blown wide with desire. Cyrus was good at this, at reducing you to a puddle in a matter of moments. His hand released your throat, sliding to the back of your neck so he could angle your head up to his. “Oh, how i’ve longed to hear that sound again.” His lips came down to yours, quickly convincing your mouth to open. You knew it was a bad idea to be doing this where anyone could walk in, but your mind was so clouded with need that you didn’t care.

Cyrus pushed you back, pressing you to window behind. “Cyrus,” you gasped out, “anyone can see.” His lips tore from yours, resuming his initial attack on your neck.

“I don’t particularly care.” He said against your skin, a soft bite bringing a whimper from you. Your nails dug into his back, the hand around your waist dipping under your skirts. “I had to skip dinner, I knew if I saw you I wouldn’t be able to keep from touching you.” He whispered as he gently bit under your ear. His fingers toyed with the delicate lace covering you, an embarrassingly needy noise coming from your mouth. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you hard as his fingers slid to where you needed him.

“What, may I ask, is going on here?”

The two of you froze at the cold voice, the haze of lust shattering around you. Cyrus pulled his hand from your skirt quickly, hiding the wetness on his fingers behind his back. You pushed off the window, straightening your dress as you looked at your father. In that moment, Rhysand looked ever the dangerous Dark Lord he was rumored to be.

Your gaze turned to Tamlin next to him, the same anger visible on his face. You knew his claws were seconds away from coming out, not able to believe the sight in front of him. You paled, shame creeping up your spine.

“Father, I-“ Cyrus began, ever the gentleman. Rhysand cut him off.

“You better have a good reason for having your hand up my daughters skirt.” Your fathers voice was nearly shaking with anger. Tamlin scoffed, turning the attention to him.

“Please,” he said, looking to your father. “With the way you Night Court fae act, she probably seduced him herself.” Your face flushed at the two of them, humiliated by the scene they walked in on.

“Enough!” Cyrus boomed out, hand reaching to grab yours. “There is no dark magic here. Rhysand, Sir, I love your daughter.” The room went speechless, the quiet deadly. Feyre and Camellia chose that moment to enter the room, catching the end of Cyrus’ confession. Your mothers eyes find yours, a knowing look in them. That gave you the strength to step closer to Cyrus, your hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Father, Tamlin, I love him.” You declared, looking up to smile at the handsome blond. Your father gave a great roar of laughter, rounding on Tamlin.

“What kind of a game is this, Spring?” He seethed, getting in his face. The other High Lord rose against him, his anger as equal.

“Who’s to say this isn’t your game, Night? You come into my home, send your daughter to whore out my son!” Tamlin yelled, retaliating against your father.

“Stop!” Your mother cried out, stepping between the two of them. She turned your father, grabbing his hands in hers. “You truly haven’t felt the love coming off her in recent months? The way she suddenly wished to accompany us every time we came here? Tell me you aren’t so naive, husband.” She spoke, calming the rage inside him. Camellia did the same with Tamlin, whispering soothing words to him.

Your father looked slightly ashamed, realizing he hadn’t noticed the change in you. He looked back to you and Cyrus, an apology in his eyes.

“Aw Mother, why did you stop them right when it was getting good?” Your brother drawled from the doorway, commanding the attention of the room. Your mother sighed at him, shaking her head at her eldest.

“Now is not the time, Nyx.” She chided, turning back to you. “How long?” She asked, gesturing between the two of you. Cyrus cleared his throat, unsure if the answer was going to create more anger or help dispel it.

“Around a year.” He said, holding his breath while he waited for a reaction. Your mother smiled, walking over to embrace you.

“I am happy for you, my darling.” She said, holding you tight. “Why keep it a secret for so long?” She asked, looking at you quizzically. You gestured to the two fathers, looking ready to attack each other again.

“Have you ever met them?”

***

[itsagirlwithglasses]

A Shadow’s Fale — Chapter Four

Azriel x Pirate Female!Reader

CHAPTER FOUR

Word Count: +3,700

a/n: I'm sorry for posting so late, I had a few rough weeks! Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly soon! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Mention of scars, drinking

You had been called for a meeting at the River House the next morning. You were pretty sure it had to do with what Azriel had found out about you. 

Azriel. The most confusing male you’ve ever encountered. 

He was hot and cold. Fire and ice. His constant mood changes giving you whiplash. 

You had not seen him after your encounter the night before. Nor Elain. You had no idea what he meant and you were even more confused about what kind of relationship those two even had. No one seem to take notice or even talk about it. 

Rhysand had flown you back to the House of Wind and then requested this meeting you were about to have. He didn’t say anything else about it and you were anxious enough already as it is. 

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked still holding you as you flew together. 

“Hmmm?” You answered distracted. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” He laughed. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“If I have the answer,” He smiled. 

“Are… Azriel and Elain mates?” 

Cassian gaze seemed to unfocus a little and his lips tightened in a line. The usual smirk gone as he became suddenly serious. 

“No.” He took a look at you as you nodded, then you were reaching the grass in front of a big mansion by the river and Cassian was putting you back on your feet. 

“Wow,” you looked around in awe, “This is beautiful… and huge.” 

“Y/N…” You looked at him once more, “Don’t mention it.” You blinked in understanding. 

“I won’t.” He gave you an apologetic smile and made you to follow him inside the house. 

You felt the wards as you walked through the door and you looked at the paintings on the walls, admiring. You knew that the High Lady was into painting but you had no idea she would be this good. 

“Are they all hers?” 

“Yes,” Cassian said simply, the smile, almost prideful, again on his lips. He guided you to a corridor that led to a set of double doors at the end. 

As he opened them he let you in and you inhaled deeply to see the people waiting inside already. 

Rhysand, Feyre, Mor, the female with the piercing grey gaze and… Azriel. 

“Welcome to our home, Y/N.” Rhysand’s voice boomed in the silence that was heavy in the air. “I believe you haven’t been formally introduced to my second, Amren.” He pointed to the female and you swallowed hard in recognition. 

“Amren, as in the horror bed time stories?” You spoke almost in a whisper and you saw the little grin she gave you. 

“I guess we’re both the same if we follow that logic girl.” She spoke, her voice a soft purr. “Except we are from two different sides of the spectrum. A pirate you say?” That made you chuckle. 

“I guess it depends, if the children really like Peter Pan they might resent me a little as well.” This made a few chuckles from the people around you and Amren simply sent her head back in laughter. 

“I like you, girl.” You gave her a grin as she saluted you with her glass on wine. It was definitely too early for wine but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“Now that introductions are done, we have serious business to talk about.” You nodded, “Y/N, you claim to have in your possession dread troves that were lost at sea,” You nodded again, “I allowed you and your crew to stay, shop and eat in my city, just like you asked, now I want to see them.” 

You looked around the room taking a deep breath. 

“I asked for an alliance.” You crossed your arms over you chest. 

“I’ll make you a bargain then,” He said darkly, his hands resting on the table in front of him. “You give me the troves, I let you and your crew go.” You snorted a laugh shaking your head in disbelief.. 

“No,” You replied and he narrowed his gaze as you mimicked him. “I’m going to fight in this war Rhysand, now you must decide if it’s with you or against you.” 

Silence fell once more in the room. 

“You sure have balls girl.” Amren said from your left but you kept the High Lord’s gaze.

“Are those your terms then?” Rhysand asked and you nodded. “I’ll send word for you when I make my decision then.” 

“You can’t possible be considering this.” Azriel’s voice came from you right. 

“Can I go now?” You asked ignoring the spymaster’s words as it somewhat hurt you. 

Rhysand waved his hand in dismissal. “Feyre, darling?” You watched as they clearly communicated something in their minds and then she walked over to you smiling. 

“Will you join me for a walk before you go?” You simply nodded leaving the room with the High Lady in tow. 

Rhysand might’ve told her to change your mind about this, but your mind had been made up ever since your father’s death. Hybern was your destiny to destroy. And no High Lord or Lady would take that from you. 

—

You walked alongside Feyre through the gardens of the house and stopped in a gazebo by the river. She sat on one of the benches and you followed suit. 

“I never knew happiness before I came to this place.” She said on a sigh and you looked at her intently. “I think if it wasn’t for him, I would be in a very bad shape by now.” 

“You mean Rhysand.” 

“Yes,” She was now looking at you, “Rhys is… a very good male, he doesn’t want you involved in this war with Hybern.” 

“Rhys,” You spat, “Doesn’t know me, or how much I need this, to fight them, to make them pay for what they’ve done to me, to my crew, to my…” You cut yourself off shaking your head. “I will not back off on this.” 

“I understand,” She said reaching out for you hand and giving it a squeeze. “I lost my father to Hybern too,” She smiled sadly, “During that first war, when we had to face them and we had lost all hope, my father showed up, sailing, bringing an army with him, he saved us somehow in the end… And yet, he was killed before we could even say thank you… or goodbye.” A stray tear fell on her cheek and you nodded in understanding. “I spent so much time hating him for not showing up… For not fighting and in the end he did… I know your father wasn’t the best of men… I’ve heard the stories but I also know you miss him… Even if only the good parts of him.” 

She knew exactly how you felt, clearly better than anyone else. You had bonded in a way you hadn’t expected. When she reached out to you cheek you didn’t even realize you had starting crying. 

“Hybern took way too much from us both, and I will talk to Rhys, we will fight this war, together.” She said pulling you into a hug and you welcomed it fiercely. 

A friend. In the midst of darkness you had made a friend.

— 

“If she wants to fight, then let her fight. She clearly knows the risks.” Mor said and taking a sip of her tea. 

“They are not trained, and let me not even start on, they are humans.” Rhysand said exasperated, “I’m not going to be responsible for their deaths.”

Azriel was staring at the tiled floor, lost in thought when Amren said. “What is it shadow boy? The people in the city can hear your brooding from miles away.” 

“Nothing.” He replied fast and Rhysand gave him a look. 

“What do you know?”

“It’s not certain yet, give me a couple days.” 

“What is it?” The High Lord insisted and Azriel adjusted himself on his feet. 

“I think they have some sort of magic… But I’m not sure how.” 

“Magic?” Azriel nodded.

“From what I saw, elemental.” Rhysand’s gaze turned dark, the inner circle members held their breaths waiting for orders on this new revelation about their guest. 

“Find whatever you can about it.” He took a deep breath thinking about his wife alone with the pirate. “Don’t tell anyone else about it, this stays between us.” 

“Feyre?” Mor questioned. 

“Not yet. If Y/N learns we know, she might turn on us. For now we play by her rules.”

“Until when?” 

“Until the troves are ours.” 

— 

Azriel left the meeting room going outside. He found her as easily as taking a breath. She had this beauty about her that made him flustered. That would make him think such ungodly thoughts he so deeply wished he could act on. 

But the rational part of him was screaming trouble. A human with magic? Why would she hide it from everyone if it was just regular fae magic? There’s history of half-fae, when humans and faes mated. Was that it? Was she embarrassed of her lineage to hide such a big part of it? 

Azriel wasn’t sure mentioning it to Rhysand had been a wise choice. He saw it as some sort of betrayal, and that’s why Azriel had been fighting himself over it. Was she a danger or a powerful weapon? 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Feyre approached him taking him out of his thoughts and he gave her a little smile and a tilt of the head. “What do you think about her?” She nodded towards Y/N who was still sitting in the gazebo looking at the Sidra.

“She’s trouble.” 

“I think she’s misunderstood.” Azriel cocked his head at his High Lady and she gave him a small smile. “Ever since she arrived everybody just assumed things about her… Yet, no one took the time to hear her out.” 

“You think we should ally ourselves to them, then?”

“I think they… she deserves a chance.” Feyre gave him a knowing look, “We all were given one.” She patted him in the arm and disappeared inside. 

Azriel took a deep breath looking at the female in the distance. She had her eyes closed and the sun was shining in her skin. She adjusted her hat in her head as she took a breath and then opened her eyes. Her gaze met his and her smile fell. Something inside him sank at that. Please don’t stop smiling. He wanted to tell her.

Realizing this he took a step back before disappearing into the shadows. 

He felt himself falling, not in the literal sense, but in the sense that would bring you to our knees and tear you to shreds. 

—

“We have a bookclub, me, Emerie and Gwyn, you should join us.” Nesta said encouragingly and you gave her a small smile. 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You are not! Meet us at 10 in the library,”  She said walking away into her rooms and you laughed shaking your head. 

You reached your own and entered taking your jacket, boots and hat off. You felt him before even seeing him. 

“Sure, you can come in.” You rolled your eyes as you turned locking eyes with the High Lord. 

“I gave this house to Nesta and Cassian but it is still mine, so I think I’m entitled.” 

“Sure,” You raised your eyebrows, “What do I own the pleasure of your visit Your Highness?” 

“I accept your terms,” He said, hands in his pockets, you furrowed your brows. 

“Just like that?”

“Feyre spoke to me, I understand you better than you think I do.” He let out a breath, “Do you wish to tell me more about it?”

You took a deep breath, Feyre had told him, or showed him, your conversation. So he knew your intentions, and you wondered if you were wrong about him altogether. If he was willing to accept your terms and let you fight alongside him, to finish Hybern, maybe you could trust him with the whole truth. 

You thought of Azriel, why hadn’t he mention it to his High Lord about your magic? Surely they would’ve confront you by now. Maybe you should hold on to that kernel of truth a little while longer… Just to be sure. 

“Feyre was very understanding… It felt… Nice, to have someone actually hearing me and not… Judging me, for wanting pay back.” You said carefully, he eyed you carefully. “My intentions are not malicious Rhysand, I only want my life back. I want to end them, I want to be free of this… Rage.” You shook your head not allowing your emotions to take over you. You felt your magic tingling beneath your skin and you took a few breaths controlling it. He looked you over curiously and you silently hoped he didn’t notice it. 

“Okay…” He said after a minute of silence. “When shall we retrieve it then?” 

“I’ll meet with my crew, we can do it in two days time.” He nodded in agreement and then disappeared. 

You took a shuddering breath and fell sitting on your bed and you cried. You let the emotions of the past few days take over and flow freely. 

—

You woke up abruptly from a dream about Hybern and your father. You sat up on your bed panting, a hand in your heart trying to calm yourself down. You had burnt the sheets around you and embers flew around you. 

The darkness outside told you it was way past 10, you had missed the bookclub with the girls. You felt so exhausted and you couldn’t focus on that right now. You looked around the room and screamed when you spotted Azriel in the corner of your room. Quickly covering your mouth and getting up from the bed you walked quickly towards him. 

“What are you doing here?” You scream whispered and he cocked a brow lookin you over. 

“I need to speak to you,” 

“It’s the middle of the night, can’t we talk in the morning like normal people?” You were flustered and a chill went through your back, the wind coming from the open window. You then realized that half your sleeping dress was gone and you quickly grabbed a robe to cover you better. 

“It’s important,” He insisted ignoring your panicked covering. 

“What could be so important that it can’t wait?”

“I want to know about your powers.” There it was. You swallowed and then let out a chuckle. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You know I know, and I know you know I know.” He purred coming closer to you. 

“Then if you know why are you asking me about it?”

“Are you half-fae?”

“No,”

“How did you acquire magic?”

“Family…” 

“You just told me you weren’t half-fae.”

“It’s… complicated”

“Try me” 

“Fuck…” You shook you head, “It’s stolen… alright?” 

“How?” You looked at him considering your options… Truth it is… 

You took a seat in one of the leather chairs and it did the same across from you. 

“A long time ago, my ancestors made a bargain with some high fae, they wanted immortality just like the fae. We had some elemental magic because of our side of witchcraft ancestors, however no immortality… The fae offered it to them but under conditions.” You took a breath licking your lips, “The conditions was that pirates had to stop stealing the sea and land treasures… However after the bargain was stroked, my ancestors broke it not long after… The high fae then cursed them, us, they took our access to our magic. My father found a plot hole when he allied himself with Hybern…” You got up and started pacing in front of him, “Pirates started stealing magic from the death… When fae die, their magic still remains in their bones… WIth a binding spell you can bind their bones to your skin and magic will transfer…” You took a shuddering breath removing the robe you had just put on. 

You then proceeded to removed your night dress standing in front of him only in your panties. He didn’t say anything. He had gone very still taking in what you were showing him. There were four scars, two on each side of your ribs. Ugly and salient, like they hadn’t healed properly. 

“He wanted his daughter to be his most powerful weapon… He didn’t want anyone to know until time was right…” 

“Your father did this to you?” His voice was so low you barely heard the pain in his voice. 

“They are the bones of four very powerful high fae who had elemental magic, air, fire, water and earth…” A tear escaped you and Azriel picked up your robe covering you up. 

“He deserved his death.” 

“I know.” Then Azriel hugged you and you sobbed in his arms as he held you tight. 

—

You knew by walking into the living room of the town house that the news had spread. Rhysand had accepted an alliance. However you did not expect to find you whole crew perched in the couches and drink and hanging out with the rest of the inner circle. You have a little smile as Bonny hugged you tightly and whispered in your ear how excited she was about all of this. 

“Your people sure know how to drink Y/N” Cassian chimed in making you laugh. 

“Well, yes, of course, but the real question is, can you keep up?” You winked at him making some of them chuckle. 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Maybe,” you smiled and you heard Nesta mumbling ‘Mother helps us’ 

Soon enough Sebastian, Lobo and Ledo were face to face with Cassian and Mor. 

“We need one more to be fair,” Mor said eyeing the people around the room, “Az, come on” 

“Absolutely not,” He rolled his eyes and you looked at him amused. 

“You need to learn how to have some fun… Az.” He glared at you. 

“I don’t need to get drunk to have fun.” 

“You don’t need to get drunk at all, you just need to join, after all you are going to loose either way.” He looked at you with the challenge in his gaze and he took a seat next to Mor. 

“We don’t loose.” He simply said and then it started. 

Pint after pint of ale they all chugged it down. Your eyes were wide taking in Morrigan chugging it down with an easy you knew to not be natural. She clearly loved her drink and the amusement crossing her face told you she also loved the challenge. You took a look at your team as they emptied mug after mug. The score was tight and when Bonny called it time, your crew had lost for 5 pints. 

Cassian got up whooping in contentment picking up Nesta over his shoulder making her yelp and laugh. Morrigan was cleaning her lips with a victory smile and Azriel… He was smiling! Grinning more like it, but his mask was definitely slipping and his eyes… they were bright and set on you. You found yourself grinning back at him. 

After the talk and you calming down the night before, he left without another word. His demeanor felt… Heavy, confused and angry. At you or your father, you weren’t sure. But you knew anytime now the High Lord would know… and maybe you should come forward first, but as you eyes found his across the room, directly behind the spymaster you decided against it. 

Rhysand clapped him in the shoulder catching his attention and they exchanged a few whispered words. Azriel demeanor turned back into that familiar darkness and you looked away only to find Elain coming in your direction and settling down next to you. 

“Hi,” she spoke softly and you smiled a little at her distracted by the interaction.

“Hi…” 

“Feyre told me you will be going back to you ship tomorrow to retrieve some things… I still would love to come visit.” She asked politely taking you by surprise. 

You were still embarrassed by what she had seen. Not that you and Azriel were actively tangled but you could definitely understand the heated discussion could’ve been easily mistaken by something else… And even if nothing happened between the two of you… You knew something was up between the two of them, and it just made things so much awkward… 

“Uh… sure” you finally replied and she beamed. 

“Ah! I’m so glad!” She put a hand on your arm making you look at the contact point and giving it a squeeze. “I think we will be great friends!” She said and left you alone, confused. 

— 

“Tell me everything,” Rhysand’s voice boomed darkness as he settled down on his study. Azriel kept his back straight, sobering up fast from all the alcohol he had ingested. 

“I think we were wrong… About them.” 

“How so?” 

“Let me show you,” Rhysand only nodded easily entering the spymaster’s mind as he showed his the conversation between him and Y/N. 

“You sure?” The High Lord questioned. 

“I didn’t feel any deceit from her… And the scars,” He swallowed hard with disgust thinking back on them. On how they looked awful and distorted, painful. How they reminded him of his own torture. “You can’t fake those…” 

Rhysand nodded lost deep in thought. “What do you think I should do then?” 

“Let her fight.” 

“I’ll decide after we retrieve the troves… Only then I’ll be sure.” 

“Rhysand…” 

“I think you should stay away from her…” 

“What?” 

“You are feeling too much for her Az,” Rhysand stood up walking towards his friend, “She will only break you heart.” 

“I don’t… Have feelings for the pirate.” 

“You forget my gifts Azriel,” 

“She’s just a pretty face, I care for her as much as I care for the girls in the pleasure hall.” Azriel said coldly, pushing his true feelings away. Guarding himself, protecting his own heart. Not again. 

A gasp. They both turned their heads to door only to hear running steps. Azriel jaw locked in rage as he took the calm look on Rhysand’s face.

“You knew.” 

“It’s for the best Az…” 

Azriel shook his head in disbelief and turned stomping away. Trying to find her. Trying to find Y/N and explain… But what could he say? Nothing would change the fact he couldn’t do this right now. 

With a roar of rage he took the skies and flew, away. 

-----

I'm sorryyyyyyyy!!! Oh my, oh my, please let me know your thoughts!!! Rhysand is playing the devil here a little bit... What is going to happen???

Next Chapter

[mahalachives]

Part 6: The Cost of Rejection

TW: This chapter contains scenes of intense emotional distress, self-inflicted harm, bond-related psychological torment, violence, graphic depictions of injury, and themes of mental instability and feral behavior tied to a magical mating bond. It also includes a choking/strangulation scene.

As always, please read with care. Your well-being always comes first. 💛

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Genre: angst, romcom, humor, fish out of water reader, canon (ish)

Summary: Murdered after a late-night study session in the modern world, you awaken in Prythian—still yourself, but with Fae features and the infamous title of Beron’s cold-hearted and ruthless daughter.

Then, fate snaps the mating bond into place between you and the shadowsinger, Azriel—who rejects it so fiercely, even the magic recoils.

You died a healer. You woke up a villain. Now fate’s mated you to who wants nothing to do with either—you’ll prove them all wrong, one heartbeat at a time.

Between Two Fires - Masterlist

The mating bond had turned Night Court's most controlled warrior into something ancient and feral.

A predator unleashed in a world that had forgotten what true darkness could do.

The Autumn Court palace gleamed copper and crimson in the late afternoon light as Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian approached the main gates. High Lord and Lady of the Night Court demanding entry while their general flanked them, power barely contained.

Behind them, darkness moved where it shouldn't; Azriel slipping through cracks in Autumn's defenses, less male than living shadow.

His eyes burned with feverish intensity, pupils blown wide and ringed with gold.

Days without sleep. Days of the bond flaying him alive from within.

Blood seeped through his leathers, fresh cuts reopening with each movement.

He'd carved them himself, desperate attempts to distract from the internal agony with external pain.

It hadn't worked.

The bond pulled at him with vicious intensity, a barbed hook beneath his sternum dragging him forward through servant passages and hidden corridors.

Every few steps, his body convulsed with silent spasms that he forced himself to work through, shadows writhing against his skin like living tattoos.

His mind fractured and reformed with each pulse of the bond, memories and present bleeding together.

"You're not the same female I knew."

"But you have caused too much pain."

"I reject you. I dont want anything to do with you."

Azriel slammed his fist into a wall, the crack of bone against stone grounding him momentarily. Blood smeared the ornate wallpaper. The pain rippled up his arm, insignificant compared to the wildfire in his chest.

The family wing appeared before him, the bond pulling him with increasing urgency.

A guard stood at the entrance. Living, breathing, in his way. Azriel didn't slow. His shadows struck first, wrapping around the male's throat before the guard could shout. Azriel followed, Truth-Teller already drawn.

The guard's eyes widened in terror at whatever he saw in Azriel's face. The shadowsinger barely noticed the fear, barely registered driving his forearm into the guard's throat, pinning him against the wall with inhuman strength.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice deathly quiet. The softness of it more terrifying than any shout.

The guard choked, fingers scrabbling uselessly against Azriel's arm. Azriel eased the pressure (just enough to allow speech).

"The Lady's chambers... e-empty," the guard gasped. "She's gone, disappeared days..."

Azriel's vision tunneled to a single point. Gone.

His control, five centuries of discipline, nearly vanished like mist. Truth-Teller hovered a breath away from the guard's chest.

Only a thin thread of restraint—the knowledge that Rhysand needed stealth, needed time—kept him from plunging the blade forward.

Instead, his shadows thickened, wrapping around the guard's consciousness until his eyes rolled back. The male slumped to the floor, still breathing but deeply unconscious.

Azriel stepped over the body without looking back, already following the golden thread pulling him forward.

The door to your chamber materialized before him, carved with flame patterns. The bond thrummed with savage intensity, golden light visible beneath Azriel's skin where his leathers had torn.

Empty.

The silence hit him like a physical blow.

Your scent lingered, but nothing else. Nothing alive. Nothing yours. The bond screamed within him, an animal caught in a trap.

Azriel stumbled forward, legs no longer working properly. His shadows exploded outward in blind rage, shredding curtains, shattering furniture, blackening walls with their fury. The mirror cracked with a sound like splitting ice, fragments raining down.

He crashed to his knees, a feral sound tearing from his throat; not grief, but madness. His hands clawed at his chest, tearing through leather to the golden light pulsing beneath his skin. Blood welled between his fingers.

"Where?" The word barely audible, not a question but a command.

His shadows raced through the room, crawling into corners, seeking, hunting. They returned with fragments. Impressions of fear, of flight, of ash and poison. The crystalline residue of a shattered vial.

The distant scent of Eris.

Something snapped inside him, an essential tether to reason and restraint. The golden light beneath his skin flared brighter, pulsing in time with his erratic heartbeat.

The room darkened as shadows poured from him in torrents, smothering candles, coating the walls in writhing darkness.

Behind him, the door creaked. Azriel spun, Truth-Teller raised before conscious thought.

A servant. Young. Terrified. Linens clutched to her chest.

He was on her in an instant, blade at her throat, shadows wrapping around her limbs like serpents. Her fear registered dimly, meaningless compared to the inferno raging through his chest.

"Where?" The single word delivered with such cold precision that it seemed to drop the temperature of the room.

His face remained expressionless, which somehow made the madness in his eyes more terrifying.

She trembled, tears streaming down her face. "I d-don't... High Lord Beron said..."

The mention of Beron's name cracked something further inside him. His shadows constricted around the maid involuntarily, drawing a whimper of pain.

"Who took her?" His voice remained low, controlled, at odds with the chaos of his shadows.

"No one t-took her," the maid sobbed. "She fled. To the south... the b-border..."

The bond convulsed inside him, a spasm so violent it bent him double. The blade faltered, dropping from his hand as he released the maid. She scrambled away, forgotten as Azriel collapsed to all fours, golden light seeping from between his lips like blood.

South. Border. Fled.

His mind caught on the words, turning them over and over.

Fled. From him. From the court. From the bond.

A sound escaped him, a laugh or sob, impossible to tell. His shadows surged around him in chaotic patterns, reflecting the fracturing of his mind.

In that dark corner of his consciousness, Rhysand's voice cut through. Az. Status.

Azriel couldn't form words anymore, could only send back impressions. Empty. Gone.

Come to the Great Hall. Now. Rhysand's mental voice held the edge of command, the High Lord calling his shadowsinger to heel.

Azriel rose unsteadily, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The bond tugged southward, a hook in his chest that made each step away from it agony.

The Great Hall of the Autumn Court blazed with light and tension. Beron sat upon his flame-wreathed throne, fire dancing along his fingertips.

Eris stood beside him, carefully neutral as he watched the Night Court delegation.

"Your presence is unwelcome, Rhysand," Beron was saying. "State your business and then remove yourselves from my court."

Rhysand lounged with practiced arrogance. "We come on a matter of mutual concern. One that affects the stability of both our courts."

Feyre sat beside him, power simmering beneath her calm exterior. Cassian remained standing, hand on his sword hilt, his eyes constantly scanning the room.

"Nothing concerns our courts mutually," Beron snapped, flames leaping higher. "Unless you've come to finally acknowledge your shadowsinger's inappropriate fixation on my daughter."

"A mating bond is the Cauldron's will," Feyre replied, voice like silk over steel. "Not a matter of propriety."

"The Made High Lady speaks of traditions she barely understands," Beron sneered. "The bond was rejected. The matter is closed."

"And yet," Rhysand said, "your daughter has vanished. Curious timing."

The hall plunged into sudden, smothering darkness as the shadows thickened unnaturally.

Torches extinguished, flames dying with soft hisses. Guards shouted in alarm.

Azriel materialized from the darkness, but not as they knew him.

His wings hung at wrong angles. Blood painted abstract patterns across his fighting leathers. His face was a death mask; skin stretched too tight across cheekbones, eyes sunken and feverish. Golden light pulsed beneath his skin in erratic patterns, visible through tears in his clothing, shining from within his mouth when he spoke.

"Where is she?" The question came as a whisper that somehow carried through the entire hall. Low, controlled, and all the more terrifying for its restraint.

His shadows weren't just around him anymore; they were him, extensions of limbs and wings, curling in patterns that hurt the eye to follow.

Beron rose from his throne, flames surging defensively. "What madness is this?" he demanded, though his voice wavered slightly. "How dare you bring this... abomination into my court?"

Eris stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he assessed Azriel. "The mating bond has taken him," he observed quietly. "He's gone feral."

Rhysand moved swiftly to Azriel's side, power unfurling. "Az," he said firmly. "Control it."

Azriel didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on Beron, on Eris. On the ones who might know. His hands trembled violently, Truth-Teller clutched so tightly the hilt was cutting into his palm.

"She is no longer in the Autumn Court," Eris said carefully. "Her whereabouts are not our concern."

"Lies." The word fell into the room like a dropped stone, simple and cold. Shadows exploded from Azriel in a shockwave that knocked guards from their feet and cracked pillars. Furniture splintered. A chandelier crashed to the floor in a spray of crystal and flame.

Cassian lunged forward, grabbing Azriel's arm. "Az, stand down!"

Azriel turned on him with terrifying speed, Truth-Teller raised. Cassian caught his wrist, red siphons flaring to contain the shadows.

"Look at me," Cassian commanded. "Look at me, brother."

For a heartbeat, recognition flickered in Azriel's fever-bright eyes. Then the bond spasmed again, and he doubled over, body shaking violently as if something was tearing him apart from within.

"ENOUGH!" Beron shouted, flames racing across the floor toward the Night Court delegation. "This is an act of war, Rhysand! Your dog has gone rabid!"

"He is not himself," Rhysand replied, power rising to counter the flames. "The mating bond-"

"Is his own doing," Beron snarled. "He rejected it. Let him suffer the consequences."

The words hit Azriel like physical blows.

His rejection. His choice. His fault.

With a sound like tearing metal, Azriel broke free from Cassian's hold. His shadows became solid, driving Cassian back as Azriel lunged toward the throne.

"Where. Is. She." The declaration was so softly spoken it was almost tender, which made it infinitely more disturbing. Truth-Teller aimed at Beron's throat, the blade steady despite the tremors wracking the rest of his body.

Guards surged forward. Feyre's power erupted in a shield of starlight. Rhysand moved with blinding speed, catching Azriel around the waist as chaos erupted.

"She fled," Eris said, voice cutting through the mayhem. "She chose to leave. She rejected you as surely as you rejected her."

The words landed like hammer blows on shattered glass. Azriel's knees buckled, shadows coiling around him in protective spirals. The golden light beneath his skin flared bright enough to cast harsh shadows across his face, revealing tears of blood tracking down his cheeks.

"She is gone," Beron said, cruel satisfaction in his voice. "And you drove her away, shadowsinger. Your madness. Your rejection. This is the Cauldron's punishment."

Azriel's body shook so violently that Rhysand had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. No sound escaped the shadowsinger's lips, but his shadows surged outward in silent agony, engulfing the hall in darkness. Guards stumbled back, some falling to their knees as the shadows touched them.

Rhysand's power surged in response, stars piercing the unnatural night. "Azriel!" His voice carried the full weight of High Lord command. "ENOUGH."

The command froze Azriel momentarily, just long enough for Rhysand's power to wrap around him like a cocoon. Feyre and Cassian moved to Rhysand's side, adding their strength to his.

"We're leaving," Rhysand announced to Beron, the words clipped and final. "This audience is concluded."

"Take your rabid dog and go," Beron spat, flames illuminating his fury. "And know that any return to my lands will be met with lethal force."

Eris remained unnervingly calm, his eyes never leaving Azriel. "The bond will kill him," he observed clinically. "Unless he finds her."

"This isn't over." Azriel's words were barely audible, yet they carried the weight of an unbreakable vow. Truth-Teller still gripped in shaking hands as Rhysand's power contained him.

"It was over the moment you rejected what was yours," Eris replied. "Some prices cannot be undone, shadowsinger."

Rhysand's winnowing magic swept around them, tearing them from the Autumn Court in a rush of wind and darkness. The last image was Beron's face, contorted with triumph and rage, and Eris, watching with those calculating amber eyes that knew more than he revealed.

They materialized at the border of Night and Autumn territories, twilight sky bleeding purple and indigo above them.

The moment Rhysand's power released him, Azriel crumpled to the ground as if his bones had turned to water.

His wings splayed at unnatural angles, one arching too high, its joint visibly swollen and throbbing, the other dragging in the dirt, twitching involuntarily with each pulse of the bond.

Blood trickled from beneath his leathers, following the path of scars both ancient and fresh.

His eyes were bloodshot, the whites laced with crimson threads. Veins beneath his skin glowed faintly gold, pulsing like fever-lines up his throat and across his temples.

His breathing came in short, stuttering gasps, like each inhale was being stolen from him.

Like the air itself was rejecting him.

No sound escaped his lips as he curled in on himself, fingers digging into the earth, leaving furrows in the soil. The carefully constructed walls—five centuries of discipline and control—dissolved into dust.

Feyre was beside him in an instant, gathering his shaking form against her.

Her arms encircled him, not as High Lady to shadowsinger, but as family to family. His shadows clung to her like frightened children, but she didn't flinch. Darkness met darkness, and still she held him.

"She left," he whispered, the words barely audible. "She left. She left me. She left me."

His voice broke on the last words, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood and grime on his face. His body convulsed with silent sobs, each one threatening to tear him apart from within.

"I should've... I should've stopped her," he gasped, the words emerging between desperate attempts to breathe. Each inhale seemed to cause him physical pain, the bond constricting his lungs from inside. "I felt it... I felt her slipping..."

His hand reached out, grasping at empty air, then flinched as if burned when his fingers found nothing but wind.

Cassian stood motionless, face drained of color.

He had seen Azriel gut a man without blinking. Had watched him interrogate enemies with mechanical precision. But this? This was something else. Something unholy. The most controlled male he knew, unraveling thread by bloody thread before his eyes.

"Mother above," he breathed, the words a prayer.

Rhysand's power curled protectively around them all, but even he couldn't hide the fear in his eyes. Five hundred years of brotherhood, and he had never seen Azriel like this; had never thought it possible.

"She didn't just leave me," Azriel whispered, his gaze fixed on something none of them could see. "She left the bond. She left everything. How could she... how could she breathe through that?"

Feyre's power curled around him, not to heal, but to hold the pieces together until he could. "I'm here," she murmured, a steady anchor in the storm. "I've got you, Az."

He tried to rise, body moving before his mind caught up. The bond pulled him like a marionette with strings made of agony, dragging him toward the southern horizon. He staggered, would have fallen if not for Feyre's steady arms.

Cassian watched as Azriel's shadows twisted in patterns that reflected his internal torment. "What do we do? We can't force her to accept him."

"No," Rhysand agreed. "But we can find her. At least give him the chance to see her again."

Azriel's body continued to shake, but the wild desperation in his eyes shifted to something else—something cold and focused and deadly.

"South," he managed, each word precise despite the cost. "Border estate."

"We'll find her," Feyre promised, her power wrapping more firmly around his trembling form. "But first, you need to breathe. Just breathe, Az."

Azriel shook his head, the movement jerky and pained. "Can't breathe," he rasped. "It won't let me. Pulls and pulls and..." His words dissolved as another spasm of pain contorted his features.

With sudden, desperate strength, he gripped Rhysand's forearm.

"Please," he begged, the word raw and broken. "Now. Take me to her now." Tears leaked from his eyes, "I'll die if..." He couldn't finish, another wave of pain stealing his breath.

Rhysand knelt beside them, his face set with the cold, implacable resolve of a High Lord. "You'll die if we don't get you to a healer first," he said, voice brooking no argument. "And I will not lose you, brother."

"She's-" Azriel tried again, shadows thinning to wisps as his strength failed him.

"The moment you're stable," Rhysand promised, "we fly south. I swear it on the Cauldron."

Cassian joined them, completing the circle around their fallen brother. "All of us," he agreed, voice rough with emotion he rarely showed. "No one gets left behind."

Azriel's face contorted with a war of emotions—desperation to find you, the physical agony of the bond, the fear that delay meant losing you forever. His entire body trembled with the effort to resist the pull southward.

"She won't want me," he whispered, a confession torn from his soul. "She ran. She ran from me."

"Then we'll face that together too," Feyre said gently, wiping a tear from his cheek. "But we can't lose you, Az."

Something in her words seemed to reach him. His shoulders slumped, not in defeat but in exhaustion, in the bone-deep understanding that he couldn't fight this battle alone.

"Velaris," Rhysand said, gathering his power around them all. "Hold onto him."

As the darkness of winnowing enveloped them, Azriel's shadows stretched southward in one last, desperate reach—toward you, toward what was lost, toward what might never be reclaimed.

His eyes, more gold than hazel now, closed as the bond pulsed beneath his skin in weakening waves. The last thing he whispered before consciousness fled him was your name, a prayer, a promise, a plea.

Then the night swallowed them whole, carrying them home to Velaris.

As the last light faded from the sky, Azriel's shadows stretched southward, seeking, hunting, following the golden thread that bound him to you, whether that path led to salvation or destruction remained to be seen.

A week at Lucien's border estate had taught you several important things.

First, the ash tea worked wonders for muting the bond's pain, but did absolutely nothing for boredom.

Second, Lucien's definition of "stocked kitchen" meant an alarming quantity of expensive wine and virtually nothing edible.

Third, fire bunnies should never, under any circumstances, be allowed near curtains, pillows, or anything remotely flammable (which, unfortunately, was everything).

"I'm making breakfast," you announced, padding barefoot into the sunlit kitchen where Lucien sat nursing a mug of something steaming.

You tripped slightly over a rug edge but caught yourself with as much dignity as you could muster. "Real breakfast. Not whatever sad excuse for food you've been surviving on."

Lucien glanced up from the letter he was reading, metal eye whirring softly as it focused on you. The mechanical click-whir always reminded you of a tiny camera shutter. "There's bread."

"Bread is not breakfast," you replied, already rummaging through his sparse cupboards, accidentally knocking over several empty containers in the process. "It's an ingredient in breakfast. Like... a supporting character. Important, but not the star."

Ember and Sizzle hopped excitedly at your feet, their tiny flame ears perked with anticipation. You'd quickly discovered they had excellent food radar.

For creatures made of fire, they had remarkable enthusiasm for eating. Also for causing chaos, but mostly eating.

"Do you actually know how to cook?" Lucien asked, one eyebrow arched skeptically.

You paused, a dusty jar of what might have been preserves (or possibly very old paint) in your hand.

The truth was complicated.

In your previous life as a human, you'd been decent enough in the kitchen. But your body's current owner, had probably never even seen an uncooked egg.

"How hard can it be?" you replied breezily, blowing a strand of hair from your face. "Heat plus food equals meal. I'm basically just doing math with fire."

Lucien's lips twitched. "Says the female who set three towels on fire yesterday."

"That was Sizzle's fault," you protested, as the bunny in question hopped onto the counter and began sniffing at a bowl of fruit with suspicious intensity. "And I put them out very quickly."

"With wine."

"It worked, didn't it?" You fumbled with a spoon, sending it clattering across the counter. "And the towels weren't that important. They clashed with your decor anyway."

Lucien set his letter aside, leaning back in his chair to watch the impending disaster with barely concealed amusement. "By all means, continue. I haven't had entertainment this good in decades."

You huffed dramatically, pulling out the few ingredients you could find—eggs, some questionable-looking herbs that might actually be weeds, cheese that was thankfully still edible, and the aforementioned bread.

"I'm making..." you paused, assessing your options while trying to look confident, "a frittata."

"A what?" Lucien's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's a... fancy egg thing." You waved your hand vaguely, accidentally knocking over a salt cellar. "Trust me. It's going to be amazing. Or at least edible. Probably."

Ember, clearly sensing an opportunity for chaos, leapt onto the counter beside Sizzle. Between them, they managed to nudge an apple off the edge, sending it rolling across the floor. You lunged for it, missed completely, and nearly face-planted into a cabinet.

"Your therapy animals are stealing my breakfast," Lucien observed dryly.

"They're helping," you insisted, straightening with as much dignity as possible.

Lucien snorted. "Is that what we're calling it?"

You cracked eggs into a bowl with more confidence than skill, several bits of shell following the yolks. You poked at them ineffectually with a finger, trying to fish them out. "Extra calcium," you muttered.

As you reached for a fork to beat them, you felt the bond pulse uncomfortably.

Even with the ash tea's dampening effects, certain movements still triggered sharp reminders of what lay beneath your skin, waiting to consume you again.

You must have winced, because Lucien was suddenly beside you, his movements silent and graceful.

"Here," he said, taking the bowl. "Let me."

"I'm fine," you insisted, though you let him take over. "The tea works. Mostly. Sometimes. When it feels like it."

"Most of the time," he agreed, beating the eggs with practiced ease.

The sight of the feared son of the Autumn Court whisking eggs was incongruous enough to make you smile. "Where did you learn to cook?"

A shadow crossed his face. "After Tamlin's... difficulties, staff was limited. I adapted."

"You're full of surprises, brother dear. Next you'll tell me you can knit or something." You peered at him suspiciously. "Wait, can you knit? Because I'd pay good money to see that."

The endearment slipped out without thought.

Lucien's hands stilled for just a heartbeat before resuming their work. You'd noticed he had a complicated relationship with the word "brother," perhaps because his blood brothers had tried to kill him, or perhaps because the one he'd chosen had betrayed him.

"Someone in this house needs practical skills," he replied lightly. "Particularly when sharing space with three fire hazards."

"Three?" You looked around in confusion.

His mismatched eyes met yours, amusement dancing in them. "I'm counting you."

Before you could formulate a suitably indignant response (which was definitely going to be brilliant and cutting, given enough time), Sizzle chose that moment to sneeze. A tiny fireball shot across the kitchen, singeing the edge of Lucien's sleeve.

"Cauldron boil me," he muttered, patting out the spark.

You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing, the sound so unexpected it startled you.

When was the last time you'd laughed? Before the bond. Before Azriel's rejection. Before the pain.

Lucien stared at you for a moment before his own lips curved upward. "You find my immolation amusing?"

"Your..." You gestured to his perfect posture, immaculate clothing, and general air of deadly competence. "Your dignified outrage. Over a bunny sneeze." You demonstrated, mimicking his affronted expression with exaggerated horror. "It's like watching a war general get taken down by a kitten."

He tilted his head, considering. "They're not actually rabbits, you know. They're flame sprites who just happen to take bunny form."

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

You looked down at Ember, who chose that moment to scratch behind his ear with his back foot in a quintessential rabbit move. "Have I been patronizing powerful supernatural entities this whole time?"

Lucien's face remained serious for precisely three seconds before cracking. "No. They're just magical rabbits who happen to be on fire."

You grabbed a handful of herbs and threw them at him. "You're terrible! I was ready to start a flame sprite worship cult!"

He dodged easily, grinning now. "And you're gullible."

"I am not..." You searched for words. "Okay, I am, but in my defense, nothing makes sense here. Last week I saw a bird with twelve wings and the face of an old man. A flaming rabbit isn't even in the top ten weird things."

Your protest was cut short as Ember, apparently jealous of the attention Sizzle had received, decided to hop directly into the bowl of beaten eggs.

Lucien lunged to catch him, but too late. The bowl tipped, sending its contents cascading down the front of his fine shirt.

Silence fell, broken only by Ember's pleased chirping.

Lucien looked down at his ruined clothing, then back at you, his expression so perfectly affronted that you couldn't contain another burst of laughter.

"Oh gods," you gasped between giggles. "Your face! It's like someone told you the Spring Court has better fashion sense."

"If you value your continued existence," he said with deadly calm, "you will stop laughing immediately."

This, of course, only made you laugh harder, clutching the counter for support. The bond in your chest gave a peculiar flutter, not pain this time, but something lighter, as if amused by the absurdity alongside you.

With deliberate slowness, Lucien reached for the remaining eggs on the counter. "You realize," he said conversationally, "this means war."

Your eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare. You're a dignified... um, whatever you are. Diplomat? Spy? Professional brooder?"

His metal eye clicked and whirred as he raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

The kitchen erupted into chaos. Eggs flew. Flour from some forgotten cupboard clouded the air.

You shrieked and ducked, accidentally upending a canister of what turned out to be cinnamon. The fire bunnies, delighted by this new game, bounced between you, leaving tiny scorch marks on everything they touched.

When Eris found you an hour later, you were both sitting on the kitchen floor, covered in food, surrounded by ecstatic fire bunnies, and laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You had a streak of flour across your nose and what appeared to be egg yolk in your hair.

He paused in the doorway, amber eyes taking in the disaster before him.

"I leave for three days," he said with exquisite disdain, "and return to... this."

Lucien didn't bother standing, just lifted his egg-crusted chin with mock dignity. "We were cooking."

"Clearly," Eris replied, stepping carefully over a puddle of what might have been honey. "I see it's going exceptionally well."

You exchanged a glance with Lucien, a silent communication passing between you.

The bond in your chest hummed quietly, for once not a source of agony but simply there.

A part of you. Manageable.

"Actually," you said, smiling at your eldest brother as egg dripped from your elbow, "it is."

The kitchen was still a disaster zone, but you'd at least managed to clean yourselves up. Mostly.

There was still something sticky in your hair that refused to be identified. Lucien had changed into a simple linen shirt, more casual than you'd ever seen him, while you'd washed the worst of the egg from your person.

Eris paced the length of the sitting room, his movements controlled and precise. Too precise.

You'd learned that Eris at his most controlled was Eris at his most dangerous. Like a snake coiling before it strikes, or a wine bottle about to be uncorked after being violently shaken.

"The Night Court came to Autumn yesterday," he said without preamble, his amber eyes fixing on yours. "Not as guests. As intruders."

The bond in your chest gave a sharp pulse, golden light briefly visible beneath the skin of your wrist before the ash tea smothered it again.

You curled your fingers into your palm, trying to mask the reaction.

"Why?" Lucien asked, leaning against the doorframe, his posture deliberately casual though his hand strayed near his knife.

"For her," Eris replied, nodding in your direction. His lips curved in a cold smile. "Your shadowsinger appears to be experiencing complications."

The words dropped into the room like stones into still water.

You kept your face carefully blank, even as your pulse quickened.

"Explain," you said, proud of how steady your voice remained.

Eris studied your face, as if searching for something specific. "They arrived openly at the gates. The High Lord and Lady, plus the general. Very diplomatic. Very proper." His eyes glittered. "While the shadowsinger slipped into the palace like a thief, incapacitated guards, and tore through the family wing straight to your chambers."

You found yourself oddly still, like a prey animal sensing a predator. "And?" You fiddled with a loose thread on your sleeve to keep your hands from shaking.

"When he found your chambers empty, he nearly brought the ceiling down." Eris's expression was calculating, weighing each word for its impact on you. "It took all three of them to contain him. A display of power that..." he paused, something like reluctant respect in his voice, "was impressive, even by their standards."

"So what you're saying is," you said, trying to keep your voice light, "I should definitely send him a bill for the damages."

Lucien shot you a warning glance, but Eris merely continued, ignoring your attempt at humor.

"And you stood with Beron?" Lucien asked, his eyebrow raised.

"I stood where I needed to," Eris replied coldly. "As I always do."

You pushed away from the table, needing to move, to process.

The bond pulsed steadily beneath the ash tea's numbing effects, neither painful nor pleasant, just there. A reminder of what had been forced upon you, like an annoying song stuck in your head, but with more existential dread.

"You need to leave," Eris continued. "Tonight. The bond is a beacon, ash tea or no. It's only a matter of time before the shadowsinger traces it to this place, and I doubt he'll be in a reasoning mood when he does."

"Leave and go where?" Lucien asked, his metal eye whirring softly as he studied his brother. "She's barely mastered not setting the bath towels on fire."

You shot him a betrayed look. "That was one time!"

"Three times," he corrected.

Eris's expression suggested he was reconsidering his entire plan. "The Dawn Court," he finally replied. "Thesan owes me a favor, and it's the last place they'd look. The shadowsinger's abilities are weakened in constant light."

You looked between them, these brothers with centuries of mistrust and shared secrets between them.

"And why would you help me get there? Not that I'm doubting your generosity," you added hastily, "but you don't seem like the helping type. More the 'watching people struggle while sipping wine' type."

Eris's expression remained unreadable.

"Because Beron is calling their intrusion an act of war. Because he's looking for someone to blame for all this." Something almost like genuine emotion flashed across his face. "And because I've seen what bond-madness does. To both parties."

Ember materialized in a tiny burst of flame beside your hand, his warm form coalescing from your own power. Sizzle appeared moments later, hopping across the table as if she'd been there all along.

These extensions of your fire magic (not pets, but manifestations of your ability to create and sustain life from flame) had become such a natural part of you that you barely noticed the small flare of power it took to maintain them.

Eris watched the bunnies with narrowed eyes. "You'll need to keep those under control in Dawn. They won't blend well with Thesan's menagerie of light beasts."

You ran a finger along Ember's spine, feeling the connection to your own magic. "They're a part of me. Like really adorable, flammable emotional support animals."

"Then contain them," Eris said simply. "I've arranged passage through a series of winnowing points. Thesan's sentries will meet you at the eastern border." His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Unless... you want the shadowsinger to find you?"

The question hung in the air between you.

You considered it, truly considered it.

This bond you never asked for, with a male who had made clear what he thought of it. Of you.

You almost made a joke about how terrible his communication skills were, but something in Eris's expression stopped you.

But this wasn't just about Azriel anymore. This was about you. About finding space to breathe, to think, to be something other than a pawn in games between High Lords.

"I'll go," you said, the decision crystallizing within you like frost on glass. "But not because I'm running from him."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No." You let a small flame dance across your fingertips, trying not to look too pleased when it didn't immediately get out of control. Ember and Sizzle chirped in harmony with the display. "I'm choosing myself this time."

Something that might have been respect flickered across Eris's face before it vanished beneath his usual cold mask. "Be ready at midnight. Bring only what you can carry."

After Eris had gone, Lucien moved to sit beside you. "You don't have to go," he said.

You glanced at him, surprised. "You think I should stay?"

"I think choosing yourself is the right decision," he replied, his scarred face solemn in the fading light. "But you don't have to do it alone."

You stared at him. "What are you saying?"

Lucien's mismatched eyes met yours, something resolute in them. "I'm saying I'll go with you. To the Dawn Court."

"What about your estate? Your position?" What about Elain? hung unspoken between you.

"This estate is just a pretty prison Beron lets me keep." He shrugged, the gesture attempting casualness but not quite succeeding. "And as for positions... well. Neither of us seems to fit where we're supposed to be, do we?"

You leaned your head against his shoulder, this brother who had become something like a friend in the strangest of circumstances. "They'll come after us. Both courts."

"Not in Dawn," Lucien said confidently. "Not even Rhysand would risk offending Thesan by barging into his territory uninvited. And Beron has never had good relations with the Dawn Court, too many centuries of mutual distrust."

Ember and Sizzle hopped between you, tiny flames dancing along their ears in excitement or perhaps resonating with your own feelings. As manifestations of your power, they often reflected emotions you hadn't even acknowledged to yourself.

"I need to pack," you said finally.

With a thought, you called the bunnies back to you, their forms dissolving into twin flames that curled around your fingers before vanishing beneath your skin.

It would take concentration to hold them there, but it was good practice for the Dawn Court where your fire creatures would be immediately recognized as Autumn Court magic.

Lucien nodded, something like admiration in his eyes at the display of control. "We leave at midnight, then."

For the first time since arriving in Prythian, you were writing your own story. And hopefully it wouldn't involve setting too many things on fire. Intentionally, anyway.

Madja completed the final healing seal over the last of his wounds, the golden light fading from her fingertips as she stepped back from the bed.

"You need rest," she said firmly, her ancient eyes seeing more than Azriel wanted to reveal. "At least three days. The bond-sickness has ravaged your system."

Azriel said nothing, lying perfectly still until the healer gathered her supplies and left his chambers in the House of Wind. The moment the door clicked shut, he was moving.

His body screamed in protest as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Wounds—both those he'd inflicted on himself and those sustained in the Autumn Court—pulled tight beneath fresh scars.

The bond pulsed steadily in his chest, calling to him with a voice that drowned out all reason, all duty, all previous attachments.

Not a tether. Not a chain. A lifeline.

His shadows, which had been suspiciously docile during the healing, erupted around him the moment he stood, dancing with renewed vigor.

They whispered to him in languages older than Prythian itself, but for once, they weren't telling him secrets of others. They were telling him his own truth.

She is yours. You are hers. Two halves finally finding wholeness.

How strange that he had spent centuries believing his shadows knew everything, only to realize they had been waiting all this time to tell him the one thing that mattered.

You.

He moved to the wardrobe, each step more steady than the last as certainty replaced pain. He dressed methodically in fighting leathers, his movements reverent, like a priest preparing for sacred rites.

Truth-Teller slid into its sheath at his hip, the blade singing softly in greeting.

For centuries, he had believed the knife's name referred to its function—to extract truth from others.

Now he understood it had always been about confronting his own.

The bond guided his hands as he prepared. This wasn't madness anymore. This was clarity.

He moved to the window, which opened onto a sheer drop from the House of Wind. Velaris spread below him, a city he had helped protect, helped build.

A home he had always served faithfully.

Until now.

His shadows surged forward, testing the night air, then returned with confirmation—Autumn's southern border. A hidden estate where you waited, whether you knew it or not.

Azriel unfurled his wings, feeling a strength in them he hadn't felt in centuries. As if the bond had stripped away not just his delusions but the weight of five hundred years of isolation. Of believing he was meant to stand apart, to watch others find happiness while he remained in shadow.

The Cauldron, in its twisted wisdom, had given him the one thing he never believed he deserved.

A soft knock at the door broke through his revelry. Before he could respond, it opened to reveal Elain standing in the doorway, a small basket of healing herbs in her hands.

"Madja asked me to bring these for your-" Her words faltered as she took in his appearance: not a healing invalid, but a warrior prepared for flight. "You're leaving."

Azriel turned to face her fully, allowing his shadows to recede.

For so long, he had believed himself in love with her, this gentle, quiet female who represented everything he thought he should want.

Safety. Comfort. Normalcy.

Looking at her now, he felt only a distant fondness, like remembering a dream upon waking.

The bond had burned away the illusion, leaving only truth behind.

"I'm sorry, Elain," he said, his voice steady with newfound conviction.

She set the basket down slowly. "For what?"

"For not understanding until now." His gaze met hers directly, no more hiding, no more half-truths. "I thought I loved you because you were safe. Because wanting you was less terrifying than facing what I truly needed."

The golden light beneath his skin pulsed brighter, illuminating the darkness between them. Not hiding anything anymore.

"It's her," Elain said softly. Not a question.

"It's always been her," Azriel replied, the truth of it resonating through his entire being. "I just didn't know it until the bond showed me." His voice softened. "She was made for me. Every broken piece of me fits with every broken piece of her."

Saying the words aloud felt like setting down a burden he'd carried his entire life: the belief that he was too damaged, too dark, too scarred for real connection.

Elain's eyes shimmered with tears, but something like understanding flickered in their depths. "The seer in me sensed it, I think. That's why I always kept my distance, even when you..." She didn't finish the thought.

"Even when I tried to convince us both otherwise," he completed gently.

The bond surged beneath his skin, impatient now, reminding him that every moment spent here was a moment away from you. His wings twitched in response, readying for flight.

"She's with Lucien," Elain said softly.

At the mention of Lucien's name, Azriel felt a strange calm knowing you're with one of your brothers.

"I know. Ironic, isn't it?" A faint, sad smile touched his lips. "The Cauldron has a twisted sense of humor."

"What will you do?"

"Whatever I must," he answered simply. "She is mine as I am hers. Even if she doesn't know it yet."

Elain studied him, seeing perhaps more clearly than anyone else ever had. "You've changed."

"I've awakened," he corrected gently. "Everything before her was a half-life. A shadow existence."

Understanding passed between them, a final acknowledgment of what might have been and what never truly was. Elain nodded once, acceptance in the gesture.

"Cassian went to find Rhys," she said. "They'll try to stop you."

"I know."

"Go," she whispered. "Find your completion."

Azriel held her gaze for one final moment, gratitude in his eyes for this unexpected blessing. Then he stepped backward off the ledge, wings snapping open to catch the night air.

As he banked sharply southward, shadows streaming behind him like wedding ribbons, he felt the bond singing through his blood.

Not the desperate, painful tug of before, but a joyful, certain pull—like coming home after a war, like finding shelter after a storm.

Like a soul finally recognizing its other half.

He flew toward you with the absolute certainty that whatever happened next—whether you accepted him or not, whether you fled or fought—this was the truth his entire existence had been building toward. You were made for him, as he was made for you, two pieces of the same impossible puzzle.

And nothing in Prythian would keep him from you again.

"Are you certain we can't bring any of Eris's wine?" You folded another tunic into your travel pack, trying to keep your movements casual despite the excitement thrumming through you.

Dawn Court. Freedom. Or at least something resembling it.

Lucien leaned against the doorframe, his metal eye whirring as it tracked your movements. "We're fugitives, not thieves."

"Says the male who packed sixteen of Eris's daggers," you countered, nodding toward the impressive array of weapons laid out on the bed.

"Those are technically mine. He stole them first."

You grinned, about to respond when the bond gave a sudden, violent pulse beneath your skin. It flared for a moment before the ash tea suppressed it again, but the urgency in the sensation was new. Different.

"What is it?" Lucien asked, noticing your expression change.

"Nothing," you said automatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "Just the bond... acting strange."

Lucien frowned, his hand dropping to the knife at his hip, a gesture so automatic he probably didn't realize he'd done it. "Strange how?"

Before you could answer, Ember and Sizzle materialized beside you, their tiny bodies coalescing from flame without your conscious summons. They weren't playful or curious as usual; their ears were flattened, bodies crouched low in alarm.

"That's... not normal," Lucien observed, pushing away from the doorframe.

A crash from downstairs shattered the moment—glass breaking, wood splintering. Voices, unfamiliar and angry, shouted commands to each other.

"Find her! The Lady owes us blood!"

Your eyes widened. "What in the hell-"

Lucien was already moving, grabbing your pack with one hand and your arm with the other. "Back exit. Now."

You stumbled after him, mind racing. "Who would-"

"Later," he hissed, pulling you toward the servant's stairs at the back of the hall.

You'd barely taken three steps when a figure appeared at the top of the main staircase—a male Fae with skin that resembled bark and branches twisting from his scalp like antlers. His eyes glowed an eerie green as his lips pulled back to reveal thorn-sharp teeth. "There she is! The bitch who betrayed our grove to the Summer Court hunters!"

You blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Another crash downstairs, and more voices joined the first. Lucien swore under his breath, yanking you toward the stairs.

Lucien propelled you down the narrow stairs, his movements efficient and practiced. "Apparently," he said between breaths, "You had quite the talent for making enemies."

"Oh." Wonderful.

Not only were you trapped in a Fae body, bonded to a shadowsinger, and hiding from multiple courts, but now you were being hunted for someone else's crimes. Perfect.

You reached the bottom of the stairs only to find your escape route blocked by two more intruders—females with skin like polished stone and vines twisting through their hair, wielding wickedly curved daggers of bone.

"There's nowhere to run, traitor," one hissed, her voice like leaves rustling in wind.

Lucien pushed you behind him, his hand wreathing in flame. "Look, there's been a misunderstanding-"

A bone dagger flew through the air, missing his head by inches.

"No misunderstandings," the second female snarled. "Just vengeance."

Ember and Sizzle, still hovering at your sides, suddenly charged forward in twin streaks of flame, startling the wood nymphs and giving Lucien the opening he needed.

Fire erupted from his hands, driving them back long enough for you to dart past, Lucien close behind.

"The kitchens," he directed, "through the pantry!"

You ran, heart hammering in your chest. The bond pulsed in time with each beat, as if responding to your fear.

You tried to summon your own fire magic, but the ash tea had dampened your power to a flicker. Ember and Sizzle, extensions of that same magic, seemed weaker too, their flames dimmer than usual.

More crashes behind you, the sound of furniture splintering. How many were there?

You burst into the kitchen, skidding on the floor still slick with egg from your earlier escapades. Lucien caught your arm before you fell, steadying you.

"Almost there," he encouraged, guiding you toward the pantry door that led to an external courtyard.

A massive figure stepped through the doorway ahead, blocking your path. Nearly seven feet tall, with skin like ancient oak and eyes that glowed forest green, he carried a spear of living wood that dripped with some viscous sap.

"The Lady of Autumn," he rumbled, his voice like branches breaking in a storm. "Your treachery cost me three saplings."

"I'm not-" you began, but he was already lunging forward, spear aimed at your heart.

Lucien shoved you sideways, the spear grazing his arm instead. He hissed in pain but returned with a slash of his knife, forcing the giant back.

"Run!" he ordered. "The window!"

You scrambled toward the kitchen window, throwing open the shutters. It was a tight fit, but possible. Behind you, the sounds of fighting intensified; more of the wood nymphs had entered the kitchen, surrounding Lucien who fought with brutal efficiency, fire and steel flashing in deadly arcs.

Ember and Sizzle darted at the intruders' faces, small distractions that bought precious seconds.

You were halfway through the window when a hand closed around your ankle, yanking you back inside. You crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

The antlered male from upstairs stood over you, mouth stretched in a terrible grin. "The bounty on your head will feed my grove for a year," he snarled, reaching down to grip your throat.

His hand closed around your neck, bark-rough skin abrading yours as he lifted you off the ground. The ash tea had weakened you too much to fight back effectively. You clawed at his arm, trying to break his hold, but his grip only tightened.

"I'll deliver your heart to the Grove Elder myself," he hissed, face inches from yours.

Black spots danced at the edges of your vision as you struggled for air. The bond in your chest pulsed frantically, golden light seeping through your skin despite the ash tea's effects.

Just as consciousness began to fade, an arrow whistled through the air, striking you in the shoulder. The antlered male loosened his grip in surprise, and you dropped to the floor, gasping and clutching your bleeding wound.

"Idiot!" one of the stone-skinned females shouted at an archer across the room. "We need her alive for the bounty!"

"She moved!" the archer protested.

You crawled backward, blood seeping between your fingers where you clutched your shoulder. The arrow had gone clean through, but the pain was blinding.

Lucien was still fighting by the pantry door, now facing four opponents at once. He'd lost his knife and was fighting with pure fire, but even he couldn't hold them off much longer.

"Lucien!" you called, your voice ragged from the strangling.

He glanced your way, taking in your wounded state with a single look. His face hardened into something dangerous.

"Enough," he said, his voice deadly quiet.

Fire erupted from him in a wave, not the controlled flames from before but a roaring inferno that engulfed the kitchen. The wood nymphs shrieked, their forest-adapted bodies especially vulnerable to fire. They retreated, but Lucien wasn't giving them the chance to escape.

"You came to the wrong house," he snarled, the fire growing hotter, climbing the walls, catching the rafters.

The antlered male stumbled toward you, apparently determined to complete his mission despite the flames. You kicked out desperately, catching him in the knee. He fell forward, his antlers slicing your arm as he went down.

More of your blood spilled, splattering across his face. He recoiled, wiping at it furiously.

"Lucien!" you shouted again as the fire spread, the heat becoming unbearable.

In three long strides, he was beside you, scooping you into his arms. Your blood smeared across his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Hold on," he commanded, his voice tight with fury and fear.

The fire was everywhere now, consuming the kitchen, racing through the house with unnatural speed. The wood nymphs were in full retreat, those who could still move dragging their injured companions.

"What are you doing?" you gasped as Lucien carried you not toward an exit but deeper into the burning house.

"Making sure they can't follow," he replied grimly. "And covering our tracks."

He kicked open the door to Eris's study, strode to the desk, and shifted you in his arms just long enough to grab a small wooden box from a hidden compartment.

"Now we go," he said, tucking the box into his pocket.

The house was fully engulfed now, the structure groaning as support beams weakened. Ember and Sizzle had vanished, either returned to your body or consumed by the larger fire.

"Can you winnow us both?" you asked, the pain in your shoulder making it hard to focus.

"Let's find out," Lucien replied, tightening his hold on you. "Because we're out of options."

He closed his eyes, gathering what power he had.

The roof above you creaked ominously, beginning to collapse.

The last thing you saw before the world dissolved around you was fire, everywhere, consuming everything, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Azriel descended through the night, the bond a molten thread in his chest that pulled tighter with each wing beat.

The smoke from Lucien's burning estate rose in angry plumes below, golden embers dancing against the darkness like a perversion of starlight.

His shadows writhed across his skin, agitated and hungry in a way he'd never experienced before. They weren't just extensions of him anymore; they were sentient with purpose, with rage.

I reject you. I don't want anything to do with you.

His own words haunted him as he landed silently on the ridge overlooking the burning manor.

The memory of your face when he'd spoken them, the devastation, the raw hurt, clawed at him from within. The arrogance of it. The blind, willful rejection of what the Cauldron had designed for him alone.

Below, figures moved through the fiery ruins—lesser fae from the border territories, picking through the remains like carrion birds. The sight of them touching what had been your temporary sanctuary sent a wave of territorial fury through him.

"Nothing worth salvaging," one called out, kicking at a collapsed beam. "The Lady of Autumn escaped before we could finish the job."

The bond twisted at those words, spearing white-hot pain through Azriel's chest.

His vision blurred momentarily as golden light seeped from beneath his skin, not just at his collar now, but at his wrists, fingertips, even the corners of his eyes.

His shadows surged outward, independent of his command, tasting the air and returning with information that made the light beneath his skin pulse like a war drum.

Blood.

His focus narrowed to a bark-skinned male with antlers twisting from his scalp. There, on his hands: dark stains. Not ash or soot, but something his shadows recognized instantly.

Your blood.

The golden thread inside his chest vibrated, attuning to the specific rhythm of your spilled blood.

For one terrible moment, Azriel felt exactly what you had felt when that blood was drawn, the sharp pain of an arrow, the crushing pressure of hands around your throat.

Something inside him broke.

He dropped from the ridge, shadows streaming behind him like war banners. He landed in their midst without a sound, the impact crater in the ash the only indication of his arrival.

They froze, conversation dying as they registered his presence.

Recognition rippled through them, not of him specifically, but of what he was. What he represented.

Death. Vengeance. Night itself given form.

"You touched what belongs to me," Azriel said, his voice so soft it seemed to absorb sound rather than create it.

They backed away instinctively, hands moving to weapons.

Too late. Far too late.

"We meant no offense to the Night Court," the antlered male stammered. "Our business was with the Lady of Autumn-"

"Your business," Azriel interrupted, each word carved from ice, "is now with me."

His shadows whipped forward, tasting the stains on the male's hands. They returned to their master with confirmation that sent golden light blazing from beneath his skin, so bright it cast harsh shadows across the burning wreckage.

Externally, Azriel remained perfectly still, not a muscle moving, not an expression changing.

But inside, where no one could see, the carefully constructed walls of five centuries crumbled to dust. The civilized being he had pretended to be, the controlled, disciplined shadowsinger, dissolved.

What remained was something ancient and merciless. Something that had existed long before Prythian, before High Lords and courts and politics.

A mated male whose mate had been harmed.

The antlered male saw the change happen in Azriel's eyes, watched hazel irises be consumed by molten gold that seemed to burn from within. He backpedaled, suddenly understanding the true danger.

"She's your-"

The words died in his throat as Azriel's shadows thickened around him, blocking out what little light remained. The rest of them scattered like leaves in a storm, primal instinct driving them to flee what they now recognized as death incarnate.

Azriel watched them run, head tilted slightly as his shadows mapped their escape routes, their breathing patterns, the tempo of their terrified heartbeats.

He memorized the specific cadence of the antlered male's footfalls, the one whose hands were stained with your blood.

His lips tilted into a sick smile.

He gave them a head start. Thirty seconds of desperate hope. Enough time for their lungs to burn with exertion, for their minds to imagine they might survive.

The antlered male reached the tree line first, glancing over his shoulder to see nothing but darkness behind him. Relief flickered across his features as he plunged into the forest, believing himself unseen.

Azriel's wings snapped open with a sound like distant thunder. He took to the air, a shadow among shadows, moving with the terrible patience of a predator who knows its prey cannot escape.

The male crashed through the underbrush, lungs heaving as he tried to put distance between himself and the burning estate. He paused at a small clearing, bending over to gasp for breath.

"I think we lost him," he wheezed to his companion. "Even the Night Court wouldn't risk war with Autumn by hunting us this far into their territory."

When no response came, he straightened and turned, only to find himself alone.

"Teren?" he called, voice barely above a whisper.

The forest fell silent.

Not the natural quiet of night, but the absolute stillness that comes when every living thing recognizes a superior predator in their midst. Even the insects ceased their songs.

Drawing his knife, the male turned in a slow circle. "Where are you?" he demanded, false bravado unable to mask the tremor in his voice.

A soft sound behind him, not quite a footfall, more like the settling of ash after a fire.

He whirled, knife extended.

Nothing.

Another sound, to his left. He pivoted again.

Empty air.

"Face me!" he shouted, panic rising as he realized he was being toyed with.

"As you wish."

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, cold as midwinter frost. Before the male could move, shadows solidified directly before him, coalescing into Azriel's form. Not a wingspan away, close enough that the faerie could feel the unnatural chill radiating from his skin.

The knife slipped from nerveless fingers.

"Please," the fae breathed, "it was just a job. The Grove Elder paid for her capture, not her death. We didn't know she was mated-"

"You put your hands on her throat," Azriel interrupted, the words barely audible yet carrying perfectly in the still air. Through the bond, he could feel exactly where your bruises were forming, could trace the pattern of the male's fingers on your skin. "I felt her struggle to breathe."

"It was an accident," the fae pleaded. "We were supposed to take her alive. The arrow wasn't meant-"

"The arrow," Azriel echoed, his voice flat but his eyes flaring brighter. The bond throbbed in time with your wound, a phantom pain in his own shoulder that fed his rage.

With fluid grace, he closed the remaining distance between them.

Truth-Teller slid between the fae's ribs with surgical precision, angled upward to find his heart. The male gasped, eyes widening as he stared into Azriel's face.

"You tried to take my heart," Azriel whispered, the intimacy of his tone more terrifying than any shout. "I'll take yours as payment."

"Where is she?" Azriel asked, his voice gentle now, almost soothing as he twisted the blade slightly.

Blood bubbled at the faerie's lips as he struggled to form words. "Dawn," he choked out, the truth spilling from him along with his lifeblood. "Vanserra... taking her to... Dawn Court."

As the light faded from the male's eyes, Azriel felt a peculiar sensation through the bond, a distant easing of pain, as if some cosmic scale had been partially balanced by this death. Your unconscious recognition of vengeance exacted in your name.

He withdrew Truth-Teller with the same care with which he'd inserted it, lowering the body to the forest floor.

Blood, not yours, but blood shed for you, dripped from the blade's edge, each drop sizzling slightly where it touched the golden light still emanating from his skin.

"One," he whispered to the night.

His shadows twisted expectantly around him, carrying the scent of the remaining fae, five more who had dared to harm what was his.

Five more debts to collect before he flew to Dawn. To you.

The bond pulled tighter, urging him toward completion of both tasks. He could feel your pain even now, across the miles that separated you, the throbbing wound in your shoulder, the raw ache in your throat, the exhaustion of terror and flight.

Then he dissolved once more into the darkness, leaving nothing behind but a cooling corpse and the promise of five more to come.

Author’s Note:

Azriel said “emotional regulation is for the weak” and proceeded to unravel like a bloodstained tapestry. This chapter is feral, a little unhinged, and full of golden light and bad decisions. Thank you for loving these chaotic disaster soulmates as much as I do. 💀💛

Taglist: @circe143 @lunarxcity @willowpains @messageforthesmallestman @lreadsstuff @evye47 @lovely-susie @moonfawnx @tele86 @moonlitlavenders @darkbloodsly @ees-chaotic-brain @smol-grandpa @auraofathena @lottiiee413 @minaaminaa8 @claudiab22 @moonbeamruins @shewolf1549 @crimsonandwhiteprincess @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @kathren1sky-blog @alimarie1105 @masbt1218 @topaz125 @falszywe @randomdumsblog @sophia-grace2025 @okaytrashpanda @thegoddessofnothingness @unarxcity @moonfawnx @svearehnn @suhke3 @galaxystern08 @willowpains @ivy-34 @hellsenthero @nayaniasworld @raccoonworld @bobbywobbby @evergreenlark @greenmandm @bobbywobbby @shinyghosteclipse @catloverandreader @the-onlyy-angie @bunnboosblog @i-like-boooks @ashduv @kayjaywrites @lovelyreaderlovesreading @badbishsblog @vera0124 @i-am-infinite @scatteredstardustt

[hopelessromwriter]

Shattered Bonds

Nyx had never yelled at Liora like this before.

Sure, they bickered—they were siblings, after all—but this was different. This wasn’t playful teasing or a minor disagreement. This was full-blown shouting, voices ricocheting off the stone walls of the House of Wind as anger flared between them like a wildfire neither could control.

“You’re so damn reckless, Liora!” Nyx roared, his wings flaring behind him. “Do you even think before you act? Or do you just run into danger hoping someone will save you?”

Liora’s hands curled into fists. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “Since when did you become the authority on my decisions? You’re not Father, Nyx! Stop acting like you can control me!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep putting yourself in danger!”

Liora’s heart pounded. “I can take care of myself—”

“No, you can’t!” Nyx shouted, frustration boiling over. “Not when you pull reckless stunts like today! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if Cassian hadn’t pulled you out of that fight?”

Liora clenched her jaw. Yes, she knew. The mission had gone sideways. She’d made a call, and it had nearly cost her life. But she didn’t need Nyx throwing it in her face like this.

“I did what I had to do,” she shot back. “Not all of us get to be perfect like you, Nyx.”

His violet eyes darkened. “This isn’t about being perfect. This is about you not dying because you refuse to listen to anyone but yourself.”

“I refuse to let you control me—”

“I’M TRYING TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

Nyx’s magic surged—darkness laced with fury, raw and untamed. Before he could stop it, a pulse of his power lashed out.

Liora barely had time to react before a blast of force sent her stumbling backward. She hit the ground hard, her head knocking against the stone floor. A sharp sting bloomed along her arm where she’d braced her fall.

The room went deathly silent.

Nyx’s eyes went wide in horror, his chest heaving. “Liora—”

She blinked up at him, stunned. Pain throbbed where she’d landed, but it was nothing compared to the shock in her heart.

He’d never—never—hurt her before.

Nyx rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands hovered over her as if afraid to touch her. “Shit. I—Liora, I didn’t mean—”

She flinched away before she could stop herself.

The heartbreak on Nyx’s face was instant.

“I didn’t mean to,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “Gods, I—”

Footsteps thundered down the hall, and then their parents were there.

Rhysand took one look at the scene—Liora on the ground, Nyx pale and shaking—and his face turned to stone. “What happened?”

Feyre’s gaze darted between them, concern flaring in her eyes. “Liora?”

Liora swallowed, struggling to find words.

Nyx, however, spoke first. “It was me,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I—I lost control. I didn’t mean to, but—” His throat bobbed. “I hurt her.”

Rhysand’s expression darkened with something unreadable. For a moment, Nyx looked like a child again—like the boy who had always feared disappointing their father.

Feyre knelt beside Liora, gently inspecting her scraped arm. “Can you move everything?”

Liora nodded stiffly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But her voice lacked its usual fire.

Nyx’s hands were shaking. “Liora, please—”

She met his eyes, and something inside her cracked at the sheer guilt written all over his face.

He had never looked at her like that before.

Rhysand exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. “Nyx,” he said, voice tight, “step outside. Now.”

Nyx didn’t argue. He cast one more devastated look at Liora before turning and walking out.

The moment the door shut behind him, Feyre cupped Liora’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Liora hesitated. She didn’t feel okay.

Her body ached, but worse was the dull ache in her chest—the pain of knowing her brother, her best friend, had been the one to do this.

Rhysand sighed, crouching down beside her. “You know he didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Liora murmured.

Feyre smoothed her hair back. “He’s going to beat himself up over this.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Liora let out a breath. “Not yet.”

Rhysand nodded, brushing a hand over her scraped arm, healing it with a soft pulse of magic. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She was grateful they didn’t push. But even as she sat there, her arm no longer aching, the weight in her chest remained.

Because no matter how much she knew it was an accident, no matter how much she knew Nyx loved her…

It still hurt.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate - III

Read part one and two first!

Pairing: Nyx x TamlinsDaughter!Reader

Summary: Nyx and Reader are advancing in their relationship, now in the Day court where they can spend time together without fear of getting caught.

Warnings: A little heated kissing but this is just a fluff chapter!

A.Note: Guysss this little series is about to get so good and juicy I promise, also please vote on this poll for what you’d like to see in the next chapter!

Wordcount: 7.5k

The morning I was set to leave, Spring Court's estate felt suffocating. The weight of my father's expectations, the ever-watchful eyes of the sentries, the knowledge that I was slipping away not just for a visit—but for him—pressed down on me. I told myself it wasn't a lie. I was going to see Lucien. I was supposed to be there. But deep in my chest, the bond hummed, whispering truths I couldn't ignore.

I could still feel his lips on mine, the press of his hands at my waist, the quiet promise he had left me with before I winnowed away. Three days. It had felt like an eternity. Now that the time had come, I found myself glancing over my shoulder as I crossed the courtyard, my pulse quickening with every step toward the open lands of Spring.

My father had been surprisingly agreeable when I asked to visit Lucien—perhaps because I rarely asked for anything at all. Perhaps because it was easier for him to believe I sought an escape rather than suspect the truth. Either way, the approval had been granted after minor convincing.

I let out a slow breath, focusing on my destination as I prepared to winnow.

The air shimmered around me, and with a final glance at my home—if it could even be called that—I vanished.

The Day Court was a world of golden light and sprawling dunes, a kingdom carved from the sun itself. I landed on one of its marble pathways, the heat instantly settling over my skin like a second layer. White and gold towers stretched toward the sky, the brilliance of them nearly blinding.

Lucien was already waiting.

He leaned against one of the courtyard pillars, arms crossed, his red hair catching the sunlight in hues of copper and fire. He arched a brow the moment I appeared, pushing off the pillar with a lazy sort of grace.

"You're on time," he mused. "Did the skies part for a miracle, or are you actually excited to see me?"

I rolled my eyes, falling into step beside him as he led me toward the palace. "Don't flatter yourself, Lucien. I'm just desperate for decent company."

His chuckle was warm, genuine, but his sharp gaze flickered over me, assessing. Lucien always noticed more than he let on. "And here I thought Spring Court was finally growing on you."

I scoffed. "Like poison."

Lucien didn't argue. He simply guided me through the sunlit halls, the scent of citrus and sea breeze drifting through the open archways. But I could feel the words he wanted to say pressing against his tongue.

"Go on," I said finally. "Say whatever it is you're thinking before you combust."

He cast me a knowing glance. "You have a look about you."

I blinked. "A look?"

"A very particular look." He stopped in front of a set of golden doors, his expression unreadable. "The kind that usually means trouble."

I fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "You're imagining things."

"I've known you since you were six," Lucien huffed a quiet laugh, pushing the doors open. "But if you say so."

The throne room was empty when we stepped inside. Not that I expected anything different—Lucien had told me Helion would be absent for the week, handling an issue near the borders. It made my request easier, less complicated.

"How long will I be staying?" I asked, trailing a hand along the intricate carvings of the marble table.

"As long as you need," Lucien answered, his voice easy, but his gaze watchful. "But your father expects a week. Don't get any ideas."

I turned to him, weighing my words carefully. "You did say I could visit whenever I wanted."

"That, I did," he acknowledged. "But I also know you don't make casual trips anywhere. So either you've grown fond of me—" He smirked. "—or there's something else going on."

I hesitated, the bond thrumming softly in my chest. Nyx would be here soon. I could feel it, that gentle pull like a tide calling me home.

"I just need time," I said finally. "Time away from Spring. Time to breathe."

Lucien studied me, his expression softening just slightly. Then he nodded. "Then you'll have it."

Relief flooded through me, but before I could thank him, the air behind me stirred.

The scent of summer rain and star-kissed skies filled the room.

My breath caught.

Lucien's lips twitched, amusement flashing in his russet eye as he glanced past me. "Right. Now this all makes sense."

I turned, and there he was.

Nyx stood in the archway, clad in deep blue, his dark hair tousled by the wind. His sapphire eyes locked onto mine, something unreadable flickering within them.

A slow, lazy smirk curved his lips. "Miss me, princess?"

Lucien let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Cauldron boil me. You do have a look about you."

Nyx didn't hesitate as he crossed the room, moving with that effortless confidence that made it impossible to look away. Like the world had never given him a reason to doubt himself. Like he belonged here, with me.

The bond hummed softly in my chest as he stopped a few feet away, his gaze settling on Lucien with a quiet, knowing amusement.

Lucien, for his part, didn't seem surprised. He just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling a sharp look at me. "So. This is why you came."

I winced. "Lucien—"

He held up a hand. "Tell me the truth. How long has this been going on?"

I hesitated, stealing a glance at Nyx, who only smirked. Smug bastard. "It's...new."

Lucien arched a brow. "New?"

"Three days," Nyx supplied unhelpfully, rocking back on his heels. "Well, three days since she kissed me."

Lucien's eye twitched. I swatted Nyx's arm.

"Since we kissed," I corrected.

Lucien's gaze flicked between us, unimpressed. Then he exhaled heavily. "And your parents?"

My stomach twisted. I dropped my gaze, my fingers curling into the sleeves of Nyx's jacket. "None of them know."

Lucien let out a short, humorless laugh. "Gods, just like your parents. Just like them." He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself. "Why do both of your families insist on making my life difficult?"

"Lucien—" I started, guilt pressing into my ribs.

"I know, Fawn," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You're good. You're okay."

I exhaled, my shoulders loosening slightly. I hated using Lucien's kindness like this, but I needed this. I needed to be here, needed him.

Lucien gave me a long, considering look before sighing dramatically. "My wife will be thrilled that Nyx is visiting, so I suppose you can stay." He gave a look of acknowledgment to the heir of Night.

Nyx dipped his head in gratitude, but before he could respond, Lucien turned to him fully with a sharp, easy threat. "Though, if you hurt her, and I'll be sending armies to your doorstep."

I groaned. "Uncle—"

"Completely understood," Nyx said, ignoring my protests.

Lucien only huffed, then turned toward the open archway. "Come on, Your Highness, let's get you settled before I regret my entire existence."

Nyx winked at me before following, falling into step beside him as they led me through the sunlit halls.

—

Lucien's home within the Day Court was smaller than the palace itself but no less grand. The rooms were warm, decorated in golds and creams, with sweeping balconies that overlooked the distant dunes.

Lucien pushed open a set of doors, revealing a guest suite. "This is for her," he said pointedly, flicking his gaze to Nyx. "You, however, can take the room down the hall."

Nyx smirked. "Separate rooms? What do you take me for, Vanserra?"

Lucien gave him a deadpan stare. "Someone with a death wish."

I stepped inside before they could continue, rolling my eyes. "You two are worse than children."

Nyx only chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as I took in the space. It was lovely—soft linens, airy curtains, a private balcony that bathed the room in golden light, and a ginormous bathtub sunken into the floor like the room's very own indoor pool. All this for a guest?

I was going to tease Lucien about it but when I turned back, Nyx was watching me carefully.

"We don't have long," he murmured, the humor fading just slightly from his voice.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my dress. "I know."

Lucien cleared his throat. "Right. That's my cue to leave." He shot me a look, something softer beneath his usual exasperation. "Get some rest, Fawn. Meet me for breakfast in the morning."

I nodded, and with one last warning glance at Nyx, he slipped out.

Silence settled.

Nyx didn't move from the door. He just looked at me, something unreadable in his expression.

Three days. Three days without him, and yet the pull between us was stronger than ever.

I let out a slow breath. "I missed you."

Nyx's smile was slow, knowing. He stepped closer, hands bracing on either side of the doorframe. "Yeah?"

My pulse fluttered. But I refused to look away. "Yeah."

Nyx hummed, gaze sweeping over me like he was committing me to memory.

"C'mere then." He gives me one of those signature smirks.

I let go of the grip I had on my dress as I approached him, suppressed smile on my face.

His eyes follow me, watching my every movement as I come closer but not making a move to cross the threshold of my bedroom.

I peer up at him through my lashes, blinking once, twice. Then, "I missed you too," He murmured, leaning down and sealing a gentle kiss to my aching lips.

I pulled away first, and immediately regretted it the moment his lips left mine.

But he moved away, and with a quiet, secretive grin, he murmured, "Come find me when you can't sleep."

And just like that, he was gone.

—

Sleep evaded me.

I had tried—tried curling into the soft sheets, tried counting my breaths, tried pretending the bond wasn't a tangible thing pulling me toward the other side of the hall. But it was no use. The awareness of him, of Nyx, was a whisper against my skin, a constant hum in my chest.

With a soft exhale, I pushed back the covers and slipped out of my room.

The halls were quiet, bathed in moonlight. The Day Court at night had a different kind of beauty—soft, glowing, endless. I made my way toward his room, heart hammering for reasons I wasn't ready to name.

Nyx must have sensed me before I even reached the door, because the moment I lifted my fist to knock, it swung open.

He stood there, leaning lazily against the frame, shirtless, like he had been waiting. His smirk was immediate. "Couldn't stay away, Princess?"

I rolled my eyes, brushing past him into the room and inviting myself in. "Don't flatter yourself."

His room was similar to mine, only slightly smaller, with the same open balcony letting in the cool night air. The scent of him—night-blooming jasmine, crisp wind, something uniquely Nyx—wrapped around me instantly.

I turned just as he shut the door, crossing his arms. "So, what's keeping you up? Me?" His grin was all arrogance.

I huffed. "The bond."

Nyx's eyes darkened slightly, but he still managed a chuckle. "I am the bond, sweetheart."

Heat bloomed in my chest, but I ignored it, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed with a casual grace. "We should talk about it."

Nyx arched a brow. "About how wildly in love with me you already are?"

I tossed a glare at him. He returned it with a laugh, his sapphire eyes somehow beckoning me closer. "Alright," he said, quieter this time. "Let's talk."

I swallowed, unsure where to begin. "Are we...accepting it while we're here?"

Nyx's expression turned thoughtful, something softer creeping into his gaze. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't want to rush you," he said, voice low, steady. "But I also don't want to pretend it's not there."

I nodded slowly. That was the problem. The bond was there, a silent, unyielding thing, urging us closer. Ignoring it felt unnatural. But accepting it—fully—was irreversible. And rejecting it, for some reason, was out of the question.

Nyx must have sensed my hesitation because his lips twitched. "You know," he mused, a grin on his lips that could only mean trouble, "Lucien and Elain's rooms are at the opposite end of the hall."

I blinked, confused. "And?"

He smirked. "So if there are any... aftereffects of us accepting the bond, they won't hear a thing."

Heat flooded my face. "Nyx."

He grinned. "Just saying, if you're worried about keeping them up—"

"Nyx." I smacked his arm, and he just laughed, catching my wrist with ease.

With a soft tug, he pulled me forward until I was standing between his legs. My breath hitched as he peered up at me, his grip warm, steady.

"You're overthinking it," he murmured.

I bit my lip tentatively. "It's a lot to think about."

His hands slid up my arms, slow and careful, like he was mapping out the places he could touch, where I would let him. "Then don't think," he whispered. "Just...stay."

I hesitated.

Then, finally, I let out a breath and climbed onto the bed beside him.

Nyx shifted easily, stretching out against the pillows, one arm behind his head as he watched me settle in. "See? Not so bad."

I rolled onto my side, facing him. "Don't get used to this."

"Too late," he said, grinning.

A comfortable silence stretched between us, the weight of the bond settling into something warm, something oddly familiar.

Then—

"What if we did accept it?" I asked softly, tracing patterns into the sheets with a fingertip.

Nyx was quiet for a moment. When I glanced up, his gaze had softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"I think," he murmured, reaching over to brush his knuckles against my cheek, "it would feel like this."

"Like what?"

His thumb skimmed the corner of my mouth, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"Like something I don't ever want to stop."

A shiver ran through me, but I forced myself to scoff. "You're so dramatic."

He chuckled, his hand drifting away, but not before his fingers brushed against my wrist, lingering. "You love it."

I did. I really, really did.

Nyx was still watching me, his expression unreadable but utterly devastating. His fingers, still barely brushing against mine, curled slightly, testing.

I should have pulled away. Should have ignored the way the space between us felt unbearable, like a string stretched too tight, ready to snap.

Instead, I turned my hand over, letting our fingers fully intertwine.

Nyx inhaled sharply.

His other hand lifted, tracing the shape of my jaw before tilting my chin up ever so slightly. His touch was featherlight, like he was waiting for me to pull back, to stop this before it started.

I didn't. I couldn't.

His eyes darkened, and I barely had time to take a breath before his lips brushed against mine.

Soft, at first. A question. I answered by pressing closer, hand against his hard chest.

Nyx groaned, low in his throat, and then he was kissing me in earnest, his hand sliding to cup the back of my neck, pulling me flush against him.

Heat curled through me, my body igniting at the sheer rightness of it—of him. His lips moved against mine with slow, devastating precision, coaxing, deepening.

I gasped as his teeth grazed my lower lip, and he took the opportunity to press even closer, his tongue sweeping into my mouth in a way that had my fingers running up his nape and tangling in his hair, pulling, needing.

Nyx growled softly, his grip tightening, his body shifting so that I was beneath him now, the weight of him pressing into me in the most delicious way.

I should have stopped him. Should have reminded him that Lucien and Elain were likely eavesdropping, that this wasn't what we came here for.

But all I could do was gasp against his lips, drowning in him as he kissed me like he'd been waiting a lifetime to do so.

And maybe he had.

The tether between us hummed, alive, crackling like a storm ready to break. My entire body felt like it was on fire, burning for something I wasn't sure I was ready for—but gods, did I want it.

Nyx pulled away just enough to press his forehead against mine, his breaths ragged, uneven. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against mine. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

I didn't say anything.

Because I didn't want him to stop.

Instead, I tightened my grip in his hair and kissed him again.

Nyx practically purred, deepening the kiss instantly, his hands sliding down my sides, gripping my waist like he was trying to anchor himself. I whimpered as he tilted my head back, his lips tracing a path along my jaw, down my throat—

I shuddered. "Nyx—"

He froze, his breathing heavy. "Too much?"

I hesitated, my mind hazy, body thrumming, aching. I didn't want to stop, didn't want this night to end—but I knew if we kept going, if I let him keep kissing me like this, there would be no turning back.

Slowly, I nodded.

Nyx let out a shaky breath, then pressed a lingering kiss to my shoulder before rolling onto his back, dragging me with him. His arm curled around my waist, keeping me tucked against his side.

I pressed my face into his chest, inhaling deeply. His heart was racing.

"Sleep, Princess," he murmured against my hair, pressing a final kiss to my forehead.

I exhaled softly, my body still humming, my lips still tingling, my heart still pounding.

But as Nyx's warmth surrounded me, as his arms tightened slightly around me, I found that—for the first time all night—I was finally at peace.

And sleep came easily.

The warmth of the Day Court sun streamed in through the open balcony doors, golden light spilling over the plush bedding and dancing across the smooth marble floors. A gentle breeze carried the scent of citrus and wildflowers, and the distant sound of birdsong filled the air—soft, melodic, impossibly peaceful.

I stretched beneath the silk sheets, the remnants of sleep clinging to my limbs. Nyx's steady breathing was warm against my neck, his arm a heavy weight draped over my waist. The bond hummed between us, quiet, content.

Carefully, I slipped from his grasp, his fingers twitching slightly in protest but aside from that he didn't stir.

I smiled to myself, watching as he burrowed further into the pillows that likely smelled of me, the golden light turning his midnight-dark hair almost copper in the morning glow.

For a male who spent so much time under the stars, he certainly slept through the hours of night like a log.

Shaking my head fondly, I padded across the room, stepping out into the hallway and making my way back to my own quarters across the hall.

The Day Court truly was beautiful in the morning—the soft glow of the sun filtering through sheer golden curtains, the air crisp and warm all at once. By the time I reached my room, I was fully awake, the peaceful hum of the court settling over me like a second skin.

I dressed in a white silk gown, the fabric flowing like liquid over my frame, cinched at the waist with a delicate golden belt. My jewelry was plentiful—thin, glimmering chains draped over my collarbones, golden cuffs sliding up my arms, rings adorning my fingers.

I had just finished fastening the final piece of jewelry when the door behind me creaked open.

I caught his reflection in the mirror before he could even enter.

Nyx stood in the doorway, his hair an absolute mess, his eyes heavy with sleep. He hadn't bothered with a shirt, his bare chest golden in the sunlight, the tattooed whorls of the night sky on his skin dark against the warm glow. He was beautiful—in that utterly devastating, ruinous kind of way.

He said nothing as he crossed the room, his steps slow, languid, his body still half-asleep.

Then his arms were sliding around my shoulders, his bare chest pressing against my back, his face tucking into the crook of my neck. His lips brushed against my skin—soft, lingering.

"Come back to bed," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

I smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror as he sighed against my skin. "You are such a night owl."

One of his hands trailed up my arm, fingers ghosting over the golden cuffs there. "That's because I am Night," he grumbled. "It's unnatural for me to be awake this early."

I huffed a quiet laugh, reaching up to lace my fingers with his where they rested on my shoulder. "And yet, you're awake."

"I wouldn't be if you hadn't abandoned me." His lips brushed over my throat again, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have breakfast with Lucien," I reminded him, though the words were already losing their strength.

Nyx hummed, as if considering coercing me out of that particular plan. His grip tightened slightly, his fingers curling around my waist as he exhaled against my skin. "Or," he suggested, his voice a low murmur, "you could stay."

I turned in his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to murmur, "I'll be back soon."

Nyx sighed, dramatically, his hands tracing slow circles along my back. "You're cruel," he muttered.

I grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You'll live."

"Debatable."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could move, he kissed me again—slow, lazy, lingering. By the time he pulled away, I had half a mind to actually abandon breakfast.

But I forced myself to step back, smoothing my gown as I gave him a knowing look. "Go back to sleep, Night Prince."

Nyx smirked, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that was far too awake for someone who had been dead to the world only minutes ago. "You'll come find me after?"

I nodded. "I'll come find you after."

Seemingly satisfied, he took a slow step backward, his lips twitching. "Enjoy breakfast, princess," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't miss me too much."

I barely resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him as I slipped out the door.

The Day Court's dining terrace overlooked a sprawling garden, the morning sunlight painting the marble floors in warm golds and soft whites. A faint citrus breeze carried through the open-air space, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread, honeyed fruit, and roasted coffee.

Lucien was already seated at the table, a cup of tea in one hand, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"Good morning, Fawn," he greeted, setting his cup down as I slid into the chair across from him.

I sighed, reaching for a slice of peach from the array of food laid before us. "I knew I should have stayed in bed."

Lucien chuckled, reaching for his own plate. "You wound me. I would have thought you'd missed me."

"I did," I admitted, which earned me a pleased look. "But I also knew that my first morning here would be spent with you poking at me like a bored hound with a bone."

Lucien hummed, popping a grape into his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest. "You make it sound so terrible."

I gave him a dry look. "You live for gossip."

"And you have been supplying me with an endless amount of it," he countered, flashing a sharp grin. "You and the heir to the Night Court, sneaking around behind your father's back?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Do you know how much restraint it takes for me not to send a letter to Tamlin about this?"

I nearly choked on my tea. "You wouldn't."

Lucien's russet eye twinkled with mischief. "Wouldn't I?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, but there was no real threat in my stare. He was teasing—mostly. "You wouldn't because I'm your favorite."

Lucien let out a bark of laughter. "You think that's enough to keep me quiet?"

I plucked a croissant from the basket, tearing off a piece with deliberate slowness. "I also brought Nyx with me, which means Elain is getting a visit from her favorite nephew," I said sweetly. "And I doubt she'd be pleased if his visit was cut short by some ill-timed news reaching Spring."

Lucien raised a brow, amused. "Using my wife against me? Low blow."

"You leave me no choice."

He chuckled, shaking his head before taking a sip of his tea. "Fine, your secret is safe with me. For now."

I exhaled in relief, but he wasn't done.

"So," he continued, smirking, "do you always sneak into his bed, or was last night a special occasion?"

I set my croissant down with exaggerated care. "You are insufferable."

Lucien grinned, positively delighted. "Oh, come now. I'm merely curious."

I sighed, shaking my head. "And here I thought you wanted to talk about Spring."

Lucien's expression didn't shift, but I saw the flicker of something—wariness, perhaps, or exhaustion—pass through his russet eye before he settled back into that smooth, unbothered demeanor.

"You want to talk about Spring?" he mused, sipping at his tea. "Now that's a first."

I hesitated, fingers toying with the edge of my napkin. "It's been... stable?"

Lucien huffed a quiet laugh. "Stable is one word for it."

I lifted a brow, silently urging him to continue.

He sighed, swirling his tea in his cup. "Your father is as he always is. Withdrawn. Distrustful. Trying to mend what little he has left, though his attempts have been... half-hearted, at best." A pause, then a softer, "He does love you, you know. Don't take that for granted."

I looked down at my plate, a strange weight pressing against my ribs. "I know, I try not to. I love him too."

Lucien sighed, setting his cup down. "Well, that was depressing."

I let out a weak laugh, grateful for the shift in subject. "You brought it up."

"Yes, but now I regret it," he muttered before shooting me a sidelong glance, that familiar smirk returning. "Luckily, we have a much juicier topic to discuss."

I groaned. "Lucien—"

He ignored my warning tone, lips twitching. "How was sleeping with the Night Court's heir?"

"I hate you."

"Did you snuggle?" He grinned. "You did, didn't you?"

I picked up my spoon, debating throwing it at his head.

Lucien laughed, positively beaming. "Oh, this is delightful."

"You are the worst."

"I am," he agreed, unbothered. "But I'm also right."

I sighed, shaking my head. "I am never telling you anything ever again."

Lucien simply smiled, far too pleased with himself.

And somehow, despite his relentless teasing, breakfast was... nice. Easy, even.

Lucien had always been that way—quick-witted, sharp-tongued, but warm beneath it all. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to enjoy that warmth, even as he smirked knowingly over the rim of his tea cup.

The soft pad of footsteps against marble had me glancing up just as Elain entered the terrace, sunlight catching in the golden waves of her hair. She was radiant in the morning glow, dressed in a pale yellow gown that complemented the warmth of her brown eyes.

Lucien's teasing stopped instantly.

His gaze softened, his entire being seeming to realign as he turned toward his mate. The smug amusement he had wielded so effortlessly moments ago melted into something quieter, something devotional, as if Elain were the only thing in existence.

"Good morning, my love," Lucien greeted, rising smoothly to pull out a chair for her.

Elain smiled at him, a soft, knowing thing, before placing a kiss on his cheek and settling into her seat. "Good morning," she replied before glancing at me, her expression warm. "I'm so happy you're here."

I smiled back, genuinely. "I'm happy to be here."

She took a sip of tea before asking, "What do you have planned for today?"

I glanced at Lucien, who was too busy staring at his mate to contribute to the conversation, then looked back at Elain with an amused huff. "That depends on what there is to do in the Day Court."

Elain brightened. "Oh, there's so much. The markets are always lovely in the mornings, and later today there will be a performance in the amphitheater—music, dance, sometimes storytelling, depending on the day. We could also visit the gardens."

At that, Lucien seemed to shake himself from his daze just long enough to say, "She loves the gardens."

Elain laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "I do."

The moment their hands touched, Lucien's thumb traced small circles over her knuckles, his russet eye drinking her in as if he hadn't seen her in ages, as if she were the only thing tethering him to this world.

I looked away, feeling like an intruder on something sacred.

Instead, I focused on my tea, swirling it in my cup before Elain's next words had me stiffening.

"And what about you?" she asked gently. "What do you have planned with Nyx?"

Lucien tensed beside her at the mention of his nephew but, surprisingly, didn't interrupt.

I hesitated before answering. "I... don't know yet."

Elain tilted her head slightly, studying me. "You two seem happy."

A small, shy smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "It's... new."

Her expression softened. "New can be wonderful."

I glanced at Lucien then, at the way his entire world seemed to orbit Elain, at the ease with which they simply existed together.

They had a love that was constant, unshaken. One that didn't need to be loud or demanding, because it was felt—in the way Lucien always reached for Elain without thinking, in the way she always seemed to understand him without words.

I wanted that.

I wanted something sure. Something safe. Something like them.

Elain must have seen something in my expression, because she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You'll find your way," she assured me, voice as soft as the morning light.

I swallowed, nodding. "I hope so."

Breakfast ended not long after, Lucien and Elain caught in their own little world as I excused myself.

I walked back to my room slowly, heart and mind tangled in thoughts of what I wanted—of him.

And of whether or not we would ever have something like the love I had just witnessed.

I pushed open the door to my room, the silk of my gown whispering against the marble floor as I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the mess of dark hair sprawled across my pillows, the sheets tangled around long limbs and bare skin.

Nyx had crawled into bed. My bed.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "You do know you have your own room, right?"

A low, sleepy groan rumbled from the depths of my blankets, his face still buried in my pillow. "Too far," he mumbled.

I snorted. "It's across the hall."

"Exactly," he sighed dramatically, cracking one sleepy eye open. His voice was heavy with drowsiness, warm and lazy in a way that made something in my chest tighten. "Besides, your bed smells better."

I raised a brow. "That's not a compliment if you're just stealing."

He grinned, stretching like a cat before reaching a hand out for me. "Come here."

"Absolutely not."

His lips tilted into something smug. "Oh?"

"Nyx, it's nearly noon."

"So?" He patted the space beside him. "Come lay down."

I laughed, shaking my head as I stepped closer to the bed. "You are so lazy."

"Excuse me," he feigned offense, propping himself up on an elbow, hair a tousled mess. "I am strategic in my rest."

I huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed, but the moment I did, he was moving—strong arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me down beside him.

"Nyx!" I yelped, but he only laughed, tucking his face into the crook of my neck.

"There we go," he murmured, his lips pressing against my skin in a way that was entirely unfair. "Much better."

I sighed, pretending to be put out even as I melted into the warmth of him. "You are impossible."

"You love it."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my jaw. The argument died in my throat.

"You look beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his voice still thick with sleep. "Does every court suit you? Or are you just naturally perfect?"

A rush of heat curled in my chest. "Flattery will not get you out of trouble."

He hummed, brushing his nose along my cheek before stealing a kiss from my lips. "Five minutes," he mused, brushing another kiss over the corner of my mouth. "Just five and then we can get up."

"Fine. Five minutes." I lean into him, melting into the warmth that was his skin.

He kissed me again, slower this time as if savoring the remnants of whatever sweetness still lingered. "Lucien didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

I huffed a laugh, playing with the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. "Lucien is always a menace."

Nyx chuckled, his breath warm against my lips. "I bet he was insufferable."

"He was fine," I admitted, tracing a lazy pattern against his bare shoulder. "Elain joined us."

He tilted his head, brows lifting slightly. "Oh?"

I nodded. "She asked about you."

His lips curled. "And what did you say?"

"That you are insufferable, whiny, and prone to excessive dramatics."

Nyx gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Whiny?"

I grinned. "You are."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "So harsh, princess."

I laughed, but the sound faded as he brushed his fingers over my cheek, his expression softening. "Did you sleep well?"

I hesitated before nodding. "I did."

"Good." He kissed me again, slow and sweet, his thumb brushing against my jaw. "I like waking up with you—even though you left me before I could."

Something inside me melted at the confession, at the sincerity in his voice.

I bit my lip, trying to fight back a smile. "You're so soft when you're sleepy."

He groaned, flopping onto his back. "And the moment is ruined."

I laughed, rolling onto my side to look down at him. "Come on, Nyx. Admit it."

His arm flung over his eyes. "Never."

I grinned, leaning down to press a teasing kiss against his jaw. "I like it."

His breath hitched slightly, but his arms wound around me again, pulling me closer.

And as I settled into the warmth of him, into the safety of his embrace, I realized—this, whatever we were becoming, whatever this bond between us was shaping into—felt new and foreign.

But gods, it was lovely.

After fifteen minutes Nyx still had me caged against him, his arms wrapped securely around my waist as if he had no intention of letting me leave. Every time I so much as shifted, his grip tightened, and a pleased hum rumbled in his throat.

"Nyx," I warned, pressing my hands against his bare chest, though my voice lacked any real heat.

"Mmm," he murmured lazily, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, his lips ghosting over my skin. "Five more minutes."

I huffed, though the way my body betrayed me—melting into his warmth, my fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders—was not helping my case. "You said that fifteen minutes ago."

"I don't recall."

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "You're impossible."

He lifted his head slightly, his messy dark hair falling into his sleepy eyes. "And yet, you're still here."

I scowled at him, but it was utterly ineffective given the way my face was burning.

His grin widened. "You like this."

"No, I don't."

Nyx hummed, unconvinced. "Sure you don't." Then, as if to prove his point, he kissed me—slow and indulgent, his lips warm and sure against mine. My breath caught, my fingers tightening against his skin.

His hands roamed lazily, tracing along my waist, my back, settling just beneath the curve of my ribs. "You're so soft," he mused between kisses, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. "So warm."

I glared at him, my face burning. "You're so full of yourself."

His chuckle was dark and teasing. "Only because you make it so easy, Princess."

I groaned, flopping onto my back as he propped himself up on an elbow, hovering over me with a stupidly satisfied expression. "You are so lucky left my daggers in Spring."

Nyx only grinned, dipping down to nip at my jaw, his voice warm with amusement. "I'd like to see you try."

I shoved at his shoulder, but he barely budged. His weight was solid and steady against me, and I knew—knew—that I could have pushed him away if I wanted to. But I didn't.

Nyx's fingers skimmed along my arm, down to my wrist, to where he laced our fingers together. "Are you going to stay here with me?"

"I have things to do, you know."

"Like what?" He raised a brow, his nose brushing against mine. "Surely nothing more interesting than me."

I snorted. "You'd be surprised."

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Now that is just cruel."

I rolled my eyes, lifting a hand to comb through his messy hair, smoothing it back. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and my heart did something ridiculous in my chest.

I swallowed, brushing my thumb over his cheekbone. "You're so clingy."

His eyes opened, a lazy smirk curling his lips. "And you love it."

I huffed, but my lips twitched despite myself. "Maybe a little."

Nyx's expression softened, his fingers brushing my cheek as he leaned in. "Good."

His mouth pressed against mine again, stealing whatever breath I had left. My heart raced, my fingers fisting in the fabric of the sheets as his hand traced down, over the silk of my gown, teasing along my thigh. His touch burned—not in a way that made me want to pull away, but in a way that made me want more.

And that should have terrified me. It didn't.

It only made me want to hold onto him tighter, to let myself fall.

I exhaled shakily when he finally pulled away, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. He was still watching me, waiting.

And gods, I knew. I knew.

The mating bond shimmered between us, pulsing, undeniable. I could feel it, pulling me closer to him with every breath, every heartbeat.

I wanted it.

Screw that our parents didn't know. Screw that this would be irreversible. That once we accepted it, there was no undoing it, no way for them to separate us even if they tried.

I wanted this. I wanted him.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of what that meant.

"Nyx?"

"Princess?" he drawled, his voice thick with warmth, teasing as he brushed his fingers over my wrist.

I hesitated for a moment before saying, "Can you teach me how to block you out of my head?"

Nyx's lips twitched. "You mean my Daemati powers?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He hummed in thought, tilting his head. "Of course. Though, why the sudden interest?"

I kept my expression carefully neutral, knowing full well he'd see right through me if I wasn't careful. "Just seems like a good skill to have."

Nyx studied me for a long moment before his lips curved in amusement. "You're a terrible liar."

I scowled. "Am not."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Alright, alright. Come here."

I let him shift us so I was sitting cross-legged in front of him, his hands resting lightly on my knees. His gaze softened, the usual teasing glint dimming just slightly as he said, "I want you to imagine a wall in your mind. Something strong. Something unbreakable."

"A wall," I repeated, frowning.

"Yes. Picture it. And then focus on reinforcing it. Make it thick, make it impenetrable." His thumb traced circles against my knee as he watched me carefully.

I closed my eyes, inhaling slowly as I tried to summon that wall.

"Good," he murmured. "Now, I'm going to push just a little—try not to let me in."

I gritted my teeth as I felt the gentle probing at the edges of my mind. It was strange—like a featherlight touch, testing the defenses I'd barely managed to put up.

"Your wall is shaky," Nyx noted, the laughter in his voice evident. "I could break through it in an instant."

I cracked an eye open to glare at him. "You're so encouraging."

He grinned. "I'm just being honest."

I huffed, closing my eyes again and focusing, really focusing, on that barrier. I imagined thick, towering walls, impenetrable and unwavering. I strengthened them, bracing them against his presence.

Nyx hummed in approval. "Better."

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then—

"Huh," he muttered.

I opened my eyes to find him blinking at me, mildly impressed. "What?"

"You actually did it." He tapped his temple. "Can't hear a thing."

I grinned, triumphant. "Told you I could do it."

Nyx chuckled, his hands sliding up to my waist as he pulled me toward him. "I could still break it." He makes clear. "But now I can't hear em' unless I want to."

I smiled softly, "Good enough for me."

Then he kissed me.

Slow and deep, as if savoring the taste of victory along with me. His hands traced up my spine, his touch warm and steady as he pressed me closer. I melted into him, tilting my head to give him better access as his lips moved against mine with aching patience.

It was a reward, and I greedily took it.

When we finally parted, his lips trailed down my jaw, over the sensitive skin of my neck. "I should teach you things more often," he murmured against my skin, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

I swatted at his shoulder, but it was weak at best. "Behave."

He laughed, the sound muffled against my throat as he kissed a slow path back up to my mouth. "Not a chance."

I sighed, allowing myself to collapse onto the mattress, tugging him down with me. Nyx followed willingly, draping himself over me as if he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

"So," he mused, his lips brushing my shoulder, my collarbone, my jaw. "What do you want to do today?"

We eventually collapsed back onto the bed, tangled together. His hands roamed lazily, his lips finding every inch of bare skin he could reach. Between kisses, we murmured about what we could do today—halfheartedly listing off places we knew we wouldn't go, tasks we knew we wouldn't complete.

"We could go for a ride?" I suggested idly.

Nyx hummed, lips brushing my collarbone. "Mmm, sounds nice." His fingers traced circles on my hip. "Or we could stay right here."

"Lazy," I teased, though I had no intention of moving either.

He nipped at my shoulder in retaliation, making me squeak. "Not lazy," he corrected. "Just—" He kissed the corner of my mouth. "Comfortable." Another kiss on my cheek. "Perfectly, completely comfortable."

My heart thudded, my fingers tightening around his bicep. I could still feel the bond shimmering between us, waiting.

Waiting for me. Because he seemed to have already decided that accepting it was his only choice, the only one he'd acknowledge at least.

Nyx pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his expression soft, but unreadable. "What?" he murmured.

I swallowed hard, smoothing my hand over his chest. "Nothing," I whispered.

Not yet.

He searched my face, but I knew he wouldn't find anything—not now. Because I had learned how to block him out. Because the next time I opened my mind to him, it would be on my terms. A choice. A gift.

Nyx pressed one last kiss to my lips before sighing, letting his head drop against the pillow. I curled into his warmth, letting my eyes drift shut, a secret burning in my chest.

The next time I let him in would be when I was ready to accept the bond. And I wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise.

Which meant he had to stay out of my mind—just for a few days. Just long enough for me to do what I had already decided.

What I knew I wanted.

I glanced at him then, at the male who had stolen my heart in the span of a few weeks, at the way he watched me with that easy, knowing smirk—completely unaware of what was coming.

A slow smile curled on my lips.

What I wanted.

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[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: FUTURE ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking.

Word count: 27k

The cabin was cozy, nestled in the heart of the mountains, surrounded by towering pines and a blanket of soft snow that had recently fallen. The scent of wood and fresh air filled the space as the door swung open, and the sounds of excited footsteps echoed in the large entryway.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stepped inside first, each of them carrying bags and supplies for the week ahead. Behind them came Nyx, Kaia perched on his back as he carried her effortlessly, while Cassian’s three boys, Torran, Emrus, and Calen, rushed in, their laughter and energy filling the cabin.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Cassian said, his voice carrying a playful authority as he followed them inside. His eyes scanned the room, making sure nothing was out of place for the kids. “Nyx, put Kaia down—let her run around. Emrus, don’t touch that,” he added, reaching out to grab Emrus’s hand as he tried to explore one of the stone fireplaces.

Azriel was right behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. His shadows moved around him like a second skin, guiding him to the far corner where he noticed a small table with some leftover supplies from the previous tenants. He set Kaia down on the floor, watching her immediately start fluttering her wings in excitement.

“Go ahead, Kaia. You can explore,” Azriel said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he crouched down next to her. Kaia, always quick to absorb everything around her, toddled off eagerly, her little wings fluttering behind her.

Rhysand and Nyx were the last to step through the door. Nyx had an amused look on his face, though there was a touch of apprehension behind his eyes as he let Kaia go to explore. His gaze met Rhysand’s for a moment, and a silent understanding passed between them. Rhysand gave a small smile before reaching down to ruffle Nyx’s hair affectionately.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Rhysand said, giving the room a sweep with his violet gaze. “It’s a good thing we got here early—plenty of time to get settled in before the chaos begins.”

Nyx chuckled, rolling his eyes as he turned to follow Kaia, who had already found a spot by the window to observe the falling snow. “This week’s going to be a mess,” he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice as he watched his little cousin.

Cassian glanced over at the group of kids, who were already finding ways to entertain themselves in the cabin. His sons were exploring the open space, trying to figure out the best spots to play. “Alright, boys,” Cassian called out. “This place might be ours for the week, but let’s remember there are rules. And that means no breaking anything.”

Emrus grinned at his father. “You can’t stop us, Dad!”

“Watch me,” Cassian teased, giving him a playful shove.

Azriel watched them interact with an affectionate smile, his shadows swirling around him in a comforting embrace. There was a comfort here, even in the midst of the chaos. For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease, his family together and safe, away from the pressures and expectations of the Night Court.

“Alright, let’s unpack and get settled,” Azriel said to the others, standing tall again. “We’ve got a week to enjoy this place. Let’s make it count.”

Kaia, having moved over to a chair in the corner, suddenly turned around and let out an excited squeal. “Dada! Dada!” she called, her voice filled with joy. “I see snow!”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart swelling at the sound of her happiness. He moved over to her, kneeling down beside her to look out the window. “I see it too, sweetheart. We’ll go play in it later.”

Azriel stood up from the window, his eyes scanning the room as he noticed Kaia tugging at the hem of his tunic, looking up at him with her bright, eager eyes. A soft smile curved his lips as he bent down to her level, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Ready to see your room, Kaia?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with affection.

She nodded enthusiastically, her little wings fluttering behind her as she grinned up at him. “I wanna sleep with you, Dada!” she exclaimed in her sweet, toddler speech, her words still a little jumbled but full of intent.

Azriel’s heart softened at the sound of her words, and he held out his hand for her to take. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go see where we’ll be sleeping for the week.”

Kaia’s tiny hand gripped his fingers as he led her through the cabin, past the large living area and toward the hallway. The wood floors creaked softly underfoot as they walked, the warmth of the fire crackling in the background. Azriel could hear the sounds of the kids still exploring the other rooms, but his focus was entirely on Kaia.

As they reached the door to the room they’d be staying in, Azriel pushed it open with a soft creak, revealing a cozy space with a large, comfortable bed. A fluffy comforter in shades of deep blue and silver covered the mattress, and soft light filtered through the window, casting a peaceful glow across the room.

Kaia’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, looking around the room in wonder. “So pwwetty, Dada!” she exclaimed, her wings fluttering in excitement.

Azriel chuckled softly as he watched her take in the space. “I’m glad you like it, Kaia. This will be our room for the week.”

He guided her over to the bed, helping her climb up onto it. She immediately flopped down, her small body sinking into the softness of the blankets. Azriel followed, sitting beside her, his wings brushing the fabric of the bedding as he settled in.

Kaia rolled onto her back, her little hands resting on her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. “Dada, we pway in the snow now?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Azriel chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair. “Soon, sweetie. We’ll go out there and play, but first, we need to get settled and rest a bit.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You can nap here for a little while, and when you wake up, we’ll go outside together.”

Kaia’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her soft breathing steadying as she relaxed into the bed. Azriel sat quietly beside her, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. This, he thought, was the calm he needed—the precious moments of stillness before the chaos of the week began. The weight of the world could wait a little longer.

Nyx burst through the door, eyes wide and his face flushed from running. His breath came in quick gasps as he skidded to a stop just inside the room. His messy hair was wild, and he had that familiar look of someone who had been running away from something—more specifically, from someone.

“Close the door, Azriel!” Nyx shouted, glancing over his shoulder. His 13-year-old face was a mix of exasperation and amusement. “They’re coming!”

Azriel barely had time to react before Nyx rushed forward and made a beeline for the bed, practically diving under the blankets next to Kaia. Kaia, who had been resting quietly, sat up with wide eyes, looking over at her cousin in surprise.

Azriel, trying not to laugh at the sight of Nyx huddled next to his daughter as if he were some secret agent on the run, quickly moved toward the door. Just as he shut it, the sound of loud, excited footsteps could be heard in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable voices of Cassian’s sons calling after Nyx.

“Nyx! Where’d you go? We’ll find you!” Torran’s voice rang out, followed by Emrus and Calen shouting in a chorus.

Azriel grinned, shaking his head. “What did you do to deserve that?” he asked Nyx, who had now curled up under the blanket next to Kaia, trying to hide as much of himself as he could.

Nyx poked his head out from beneath the covers, his eyes darting to the door. “They’re relentless,” he muttered with a smirk. “They wanted me to show them how to use the dagger I found, but they’re way too reckless. I told them I’d rather live.”

Azriel chuckled, ruffling Nyx’s hair as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I told you they’d be trouble. But I didn’t expect you to be the one running from them.”

Kaia giggled at the sight of her older cousin hiding, her wings fluttering a little in her excitement. “Nyxie funny!” she said, her voice high-pitched with joy.

Nyx gave a half-smile in return, his cheeks still flushed from his sprint. “You’re one to talk, Kaia. I think you’re the one who’s funny.” He stuck his tongue out at her, and Kaia giggled, reaching out to tug on the corner of his sleeve.

Azriel shook his head with a quiet laugh, glancing toward the door as he heard the footsteps grow quieter. “Looks like they’ve given up for now,” he said with a chuckle. “You might be safe for a little while, Nyx.”

“Good,” Nyx replied, settling back into the blankets next to Kaia, who had now decided to snuggle close to him. “I think I’ll stay here until they forget what they were chasing me for.”

-----

The sun hung high in the Day Court sky, its warmth streaming through the open terrace where you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged comfortably. You were settled on plush chairs, a pitcher of sparkling wine and three glasses between you. The scent of citrus and sea salt drifted on the breeze, blending perfectly with the laughter that filled the space.

Feyre leaned forward, her gaze sharp with curiosity as she swirled her drink. “Alright, I can’t take it anymore. You’re going to have to tell us about Eris.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she tilted her head at you. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten, sister. You casually drop that you’ve slept with Eris, Lucien, and Tarquin, and expect us not to demand details?”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair as you looked between them. Their relentless pestering had started the moment you mentioned it yesterday, and it didn’t look like they’d let up anytime soon.

“Alright, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “If you must know, Eris was my first.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped, her glass clinking against the table as she set it down quickly. “Eris?” she repeated, her voice somewhere between shock and disbelief. “The Eris Vanserra? High Lord of the Autumn Court, lord of insufferable arrogance?”

Nesta, on the other hand, let out a soft laugh, her cool demeanour masking the intrigue in her eyes. “I’m not surprised,” she said smoothly. “He has a certain… flair about him.”

You rolled your eyes at Feyre’s reaction, taking a sip of your drink before answering. “Yes, Eris. And he wasn’t as arrogant then as he is now. We were both young. He was charming, and I was… curious.”

Feyre shook her head as if trying to process the information. “I’m sorry, but you need to elaborate. How did that even happen?”

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips as you recalled the memory. “It was centuries ago, long before the War. I was still finding my place in the Night Court, and Eris… well, he was already the future High Lord of the Autumn Court. He came to the court of nightmares with his father on some diplomatic nonsense. I was introduced as Rhysand’s sister, and Eris… he was bold.”

Nesta’s brow arched. “Bold how?”

You smirked, swirling the wine in your glass. “He cornered me at a party. Told me I was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen and asked me to dance. One thing led to another, and we ended up spending the rest of the night together.”

Feyre groaned, placing her head in her hands. “This is too much.”

Nesta chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Sounds like Eris knew what he wanted.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “He did. And despite what he’s become, back then, he wasn’t so bad. We parted ways amicably, and that was that.”

Feyre peeked at you from between her fingers. “And you just… never told us? Not even when we were dealing with him during the whole alliance mess?”

“Well,” you said, shrugging, “it didn’t seem relevant. And besides, you two are in your thirties. I’m over five hundred years old. You didn’t exactly ask for my full romantic history.”

Nesta scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “And yet here we are, prying it out of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her response. “Alright, alright. For the record, yes, I’ve slept with more than just Azriel. Eris, Lucien, Tarquin—”

“Tarquin too?” Feyre interrupted, her voice an octave higher.

You nodded with a sly grin. “He was sweet, actually. Very attentive.”

Nesta exchanged a wide-eyed look with Feyre before turning back to you. “You’ve certainly had an interesting history.”

You raised your glass in a mock toast. “I’ve lived a long life. And every mistake, every fling, every relationship has led me to where I am now.”

Feyre shook her head, lifting her own glass. “I still can’t believe Eris.”

Nesta smirked, raising her glass as well. “To Eris, Tarquin, Lucien, and whoever else we haven’t uncovered yet.”

Feyre leaned forward in her chair, her gaze sharp with curiosity, the sunlight catching the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, since we’re getting the full history… Helion. Twice, he said?"

Nesta arched a brow, her lips twitching as though she was trying not to smirk. "And he’s the truth-teller, so we know it’s true. Twice. What’s the story there?"

You groaned, leaning back against the plush cushions of the Day Court lounge. The scent of jasmine and citrus hung in the air, blending with the warmth of the midday sun. You sipped your wine slowly, stalling as Feyre and Nesta exchanged expectant glances.

"You two are relentless," you muttered, shaking your head. "Fine. Yes, Helion and I… had our moments. Twice."

Nesta tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her face. "And what exactly sparked those moments?"

You set your glass down, resting your elbows on your knees as you smirked. "It was centuries ago—long before Rhysand being High lord so soon was even a thought in the Night Court's plans. Helion was young, charming, and absolutely insufferable. He loved to flirt, and I… well, I liked the attention."

Feyre snorted. "Sounds like him."

You chuckled. "The first time was during a diplomatic visit to the Day Court. We’d been dancing at one of their endless celebrations, and one thing led to another. He was persistent, and I was curious."

"And the second time?" Nesta asked, her tone neutral but her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

You sighed, tilting your head back as you remembered. "That was years later. I visited the Day Court to broker a trade agreement. Helion was even more insufferable by then, but gods, he knew how to get under my skin. He flirted shamelessly, practically challenged me to resist him. I didn’t."

Feyre leaned back in her chair, looking torn between amusement and disbelief. "So, twice. And neither time it became anything serious?"

You shook your head. "It was never serious. Helion and I were… friends, in a way. We enjoyed each other’s company, and that was that. No strings, no expectations."

Nesta tapped her fingers against the rim of her glass, her voice dry. "Well, at least we know why he called you the ‘loss of his life.’"

You laughed, raising your glass to her. "Helion’s dramatic. Always has been. But he’s a good male, and we’ve remained on friendly terms ever since."

Feyre narrowed her eyes playfully. "And you just forgot to mention this to us before?"

"Forgot? No," you replied with a grin. "I just didn’t think it was relevant. My past is… well, it’s my past. I’ve lived a long life, and I didn’t think you’d want to hear about all of it."

"Clearly, we do," Nesta quipped, her smirk widening.

Feyre leaned forward again, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, and who was better—Helion or Eris?"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you lifted your glass. "That’s a secret I’ll take to my grave."

Nesta groaned in mock frustration. "You’re impossible."

"Am I?" you teased, grinning at both of them. "Or am I just keeping some mystery alive?"

The sun shifted lazily across the sky, casting golden hues over the Day Court’s sprawling terrace as you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged in your seats, the pitcher of wine now half-empty. The laughter and teasing had yet to cease since you admitted to your history with Helion, and your sisters seemed more determined than ever to get every last detail out of you.

Feyre leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I’m just saying, I don’t know why you won’t answer. We’ve been at this for hours. You slept with Helion twice. It’s not like we’re asking you to write a ballad about it."

Nesta, sitting across from you, swirled her wine with an exaggerated air of patience. "Exactly. All we’re asking for is a comparison. Was he better than Eris? Worse? Or maybe somewhere in between?"

You groaned, throwing your head back against the plush cushions of your chair. "You two are ridiculous. Why does it even matter?"

"It matters," Feyre said firmly, pointing at you with a grin, "because you’re our sister, and you’ve been holding out on us. Centuries of experience, and you’re just now letting us in on the good parts."

Nesta smirked. "You’ve lived five hundred years longer than us. The least you can do is share some wisdom. Especially if it involves Helion and Eris. And Tarquin."

You shot her a mock glare. "I am not giving you a ranking, Nesta."

She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging upward. "Who said anything about a ranking? Although, now that you mention it—"

"Nesta," you groaned, cutting her off as Feyre snorted into her wineglass.

Feyre set her drink down, her face alight with mischief. "You know what’s killing me? The fact that Helion said it himself. Twice. Twice means something. Was it because the first time wasn’t good enough? Or was it so good you couldn’t resist a second time?"

"Feyre," you said, your voice exasperated but tinged with laughter, "you’re impossible."

Nesta crossed her legs, her sharp gaze fixed on you. "Don’t change the subject. What I want to know is if it was Helion’s charm or his… skills that made you go back for round two."

"Gods," you muttered, covering your face with your hands as they dissolved into laughter.

"Come on," Feyre coaxed, leaning closer, her eyes bright. "We’re your sisters. You can tell us. Was it the muscles? The golden glow? Or did he just talk his way into your bed again?"

"Both of you need to stop," you said, though the smile pulling at your lips betrayed your exasperation.

Nesta’s smirk widened. "We’re not stopping until we get answers. You’ve been teasing us all day."

"And what exactly do you want me to say?" you shot back, laughing despite yourself. "That Helion is charming? Fine, he’s charming. That he’s skilled? Fine, he’s skilled. Happy now?"

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then simultaneously shook their heads.

"Not even close," Feyre said.

"We want details," Nesta added.

You groaned again, reaching for your wineglass as Feyre and Nesta started tossing out theories and questions, their determination unyielding. Hours had passed, and yet they showed no signs of letting up.

You could only laugh, raising your glass in mock surrender. "You two are relentless. Absolutely relentless."

"And you love us for it," Feyre teased, her grin wicked.

Feyre, her cheeks flushed from the wine, leaned forward with an impish grin. "Alright, alright. Let’s simplify this. Who was the best? Helion, Eris, or Tarquin?"

Nesta smirked, sipping from her glass like she had all the time in the world. "Yes, let’s settle this once and for all. You have to pick one."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. "Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated by the Inner Circle’s most dangerous duo?"

"Because you are," Feyre said cheerfully.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her expression cool but her eyes sparkling. "And don’t think you can distract us. We’ve waited centuries to hear this gossip. We deserve answers."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to think of a way out of this. "I’m not ranking them. That’s final."

"Fine," Feyre said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Then just tell us who surprised you the most."

You blinked at her, caught off guard. "Surprised me?"

Nesta tilted her head thoughtfully. "That’s actually a good question. Who was different than you expected?"

You considered this for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass. "Well… if I had to pick someone, I’d say Eris."

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Nesta leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Why Eris?" Feyre asked.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Because despite all his arrogance and fire, he was surprisingly gentle. He could be soft when he wanted to be, which wasn’t often, but it was enough to catch me off guard."

Nesta looked impressed. "That is surprising. I wouldn’t have guessed that about him."

Feyre rested her chin in her hand, a dreamy look on her face. "I can actually see it. He’s all rough edges on the outside, but maybe there’s something softer underneath."

"Don’t let him hear you say that," you said with a laugh. "He’d deny it until his dying breath."

"And Helion?" Nesta pressed, not letting you off the hook.

You sighed again, shaking your head with a small smile. "Helion is exactly who you think he is. Charming, confident, and very, very good at what he does."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, laughing. "You’re not making this any easier for us, you know."

"And Tarquin?" Nesta asked, her tone even but her smirk giving her away.

Your smile softened. "Tarquin was sweet. Gentle, almost shy at times. But there was a strength to him too, a quiet confidence. He was… different."

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then turned back to you with matching grins.

"Well?" Nesta said. "We still haven’t gotten a clear answer."

You threw up your hands in exasperation. "Because there isn’t one! They were all different, alright? Can we move on now? I've chose my husband, is that not enough!"

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. "Not a chance."

Nesta raised her glass, her smirk widening. "You’re stuck with us, sister. Might as well spill everything."

Helion strolled into the room with his usual air of confidence, his golden robes shimmering in the fading sunlight. His grin widened as he took in the three of you lounging with wine, clearly enjoying yourselves.

"Ah," he said, spreading his arms theatrically, "the beauties of the Night Court, still gracing my halls. What trouble have you been causing in my absence?"

Before you could say a word, Feyre and Nesta pounced.

"Helion!" Feyre exclaimed, her tone filled with mock scandal. "How did you manage to sleep with her twice?"

Nesta smirked, tilting her head as she added, "We’ve been trying to get answers out of her for hours, but she’s being terribly uncooperative. Care to enlighten us?"

Helion froze for a fraction of a second, then threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and full. "Ah, so she’s finally told you about our little… history." His amber eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked at you. "And here I thought that was our secret."

You groaned, sinking deeper into your chair. "I’m going to kill both of you," you muttered, glaring at your sisters.

Feyre ignored you, her grin as wide as ever. "Come on, Helion. We’re dying to know. Twice? What did you do to manage that?"

Helion sauntered over, pouring himself a glass of wine as if he had all the time in the world. He took a slow sip, savouring the moment, before leaning casually against the edge of the table.

"Well," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "I’d like to think it was my charm, my wit, and, of course, my irresistible good looks."

Nesta rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

Helion chuckled, setting his glass down. "Alright, if you must know… it was persistence. Your sister wasn’t easy to win over. The first time took weeks of courting—dancing, poetry, gifts. I had to work for it."

Feyre’s eyes widened. "Dancing and poetry? Really?"

You groaned again, covering your face. "Helion, stop."

"Why should I?" he teased, his grin widening. "This is far too much fun."

"And the second time?" Nesta pressed, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Helion shrugged, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with amusement. "The second time… well, by then, she already knew what she’d be getting. I’d say it was mutual curiosity more than anything else. A moment of weakness on both our parts."

Feyre burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "I can’t believe this. You’re like an open book!"

Helion raised his glass in a mock toast. "A truth-teller, as they say. I have nothing to hide."

Nesta smirked, turning to you. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You shot her a withering look. "I hate all of you."

Helion chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Don’t be mad, my dear. It’s all in good fun."

Feyre and Nesta dissolved into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but join them, even as you plotted your revenge for the endless teasing. Helion, ever the showman, basked in the chaos he’d caused, clearly pleased with himself.

Nesta, never one to let an opportunity for drama pass, leaned forward with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Alright, Helion, since you’re such a truth-teller, did you know she’s also slept with Eris and Tarquin?"

Helion, mid-sip of his wine, froze. He lowered the glass slowly, his golden eyes snapping to you with an expression of exaggerated betrayal. "Eris and Tarquin?" He placed a hand over his heart, his voice mock-wounded. "You wound me, my darling. I thought I was the only High Lord you graced with your affections."

Feyre and Nesta howled with laughter, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Helion, don’t start."

But Helion, of course, ignored you entirely. "Eris, I can maybe understand. He has that sharp-edged allure, though I didn’t think you’d fall for his particular brand of arrogance." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But Tarquin? I would have thought his gentle demeanour was too… tame for you."

Feyre leaned forward eagerly. "So, you didn’t know?"

Helion shook his head, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "Not a clue. This is news to me—and very entertaining news at that." He turned to you with a sly grin. "Darling, were you just collecting powerful men for your own amusement?"

"Apparently," Nesta said dryly, smirking at you.

You glared at all three of them, your cheeks heating. "You’re all impossible."

Helion laughed, clearly relishing the situation. "I feel like I should be offended, but honestly, I’m impressed. Eris, Tarquin, and me? That’s quite the trio. Did you have a checklist of traits you were trying to complete?"

Feyre nearly choked on her wine, laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. Nesta, trying to keep a straight face, asked, "Were they all… at different times, or was this some sort of power alliance you were building?"

"Gods," you groaned, sinking lower in your chair. "I’m leaving."

But Helion was grinning like a cat with cream, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. "Don’t leave now, darling. The best part of this story is just beginning."

Feyre leaned into Nesta, both of them giggling like conspirators. "You have to admit," Feyre said, "this might be the best thing we’ve ever learned about her."

"And the most entertaining," Helion agreed, raising his glass in a toast. "To our fiery Night Court beauty, who’s apparently been breaking hearts across Prythian for centuries."

You scowled at all of them but couldn’t suppress the small, begrudging smile tugging at your lips. "If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll tell Tarquin about the time you lost a bet to me, Helion."

That shut him up—momentarily, at least. Feyre and Nesta, however, were far from done, their teasing laughter following you long into the afternoon.

As the laughter finally began to settle, Feyre, still grinning, leaned forward with a curious glint in her eyes. "Alright, I have to know. With all these men in your past, how did you end up with Azriel in the end? What made him different?"

Before you could answer, Helion let out a booming laugh, nearly spilling his wine. He pointed at you with a playful smirk, shaking his head. "Ah, somehow, the beast won over the beauty."

You shot him a glare, but the corner of your lips betrayed the smallest twitch of a smile. "Helion, if you’re going to call him a beast, you should remember he has shadows that could very well find their way into your dreams."

"Let them," Helion said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Perhaps they’ll give me insight into how the brooding warrior managed to claim the heart of Prythian’s most elusive treasure."

Nesta snorted, her arms crossed. "Honestly, I’d like to hear this too. What did he do to make you settle down after centuries of… well, you know?"

Feyre leaned in closer, her curiosity unmistakable. "It’s true. I mean, Azriel of all people? Don’t get me wrong, he’s wonderful, but he’s so quiet, so restrained. I can’t picture him chasing after you."

You sighed, swirling the wine in your glass as a fond smile crept onto your face. "That’s the thing. He didn’t chase me. Azriel isn’t the type to play games or put on a show. He just… was himself. Steady, patient, kind. I think that’s what got me. After centuries of grand gestures and fleeting flings, he was the first to make me feel like I could truly rest. Like I didn’t have to be anything other than me."

Feyre’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That’s… actually really beautiful."

Nesta arched a brow. "So you’re saying it was the quiet, brooding patience that won you over?"

You chuckled. "Pretty much. That, and the fact that he’s maddeningly stubborn. He saw through all my walls and didn’t let me push him away, no matter how hard I tried."

Helion sighed dramatically, raising his glass again. "Well, I suppose I’ll allow it. If anyone deserves you, it’s that shadowsinger of yours. But don’t think I’m not still jealous."

"You’ll live," you teased, rolling your eyes at him.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance, both of them smiling now. Feyre’s voice was soft when she spoke. "I’m glad you found someone like him. You deserve that kind of love."

You nodded, a warmth blooming in your chest. "I do too."

Helion groaned, breaking the tender moment with a laugh. "Alright, enough of this sweetness. Where’s the scandal? The chaos? Surely Azriel wasn’t perfect all the time."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Oh, he’s far from perfect, but that’s a story for another time."

Feyre and Nesta groaned in unison, but you just laughed, taking another sip of your wine. Some stories, after all, were meant to be kept between you and Azriel.

-----

Kaia was bundled under a blanket in the middle of the large bed, her tiny wings shifting slightly as she napped. Azriel sat at the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on Kaia’s back as if to shield her from even the idea of the world outside. The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the quiet room, her little face relaxed in the purest form of peace.

Nyx, sprawled in a chair by the window, watched her with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. "She sleeps like she owns the place," he murmured, his tone a little envious.

Azriel glanced at him, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "She does. At least in her mind."

Nyx chuckled but stayed where he was, resting his chin in his hand. "You’re lucky she’s so small. If she were my age, you’d have your hands full trying to keep her from taking over the entire cabin."

Azriel’s smile widened, his gaze returning to Kaia. "She already has me wrapped around her finger. I wouldn’t even try to stop her."

They lapsed into silence, the comfortable kind that settled naturally between them. Kaia’s wings twitched slightly as she shifted in her sleep, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. Azriel adjusted the blanket around her, his movements practiced and gentle.

The door creaked open, and Rhysand’s unmistakable presence filled the room. He leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are. I wondered where my son had gone."

Nyx glanced over his shoulder, his expression sheepish. "I’m not hiding. I’m… supervising."

Rhys raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Supervising? It looks more like lounging." His gaze shifted to Azriel, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. "And you, Azriel? You’ve recruited my son into your world of quiet brooding already?"

Azriel didn’t look up, his attention still on Kaia. "I’m teaching him patience. A skill you seem to lack."

Rhys chuckled, stepping fully into the room. He looked down at Kaia, his expression softening. "She really is a little marvel, isn’t she?"

"She is," Azriel replied quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Nyx stood, stretching lazily. "Well, if you’ve found me, I guess I’m free to go now."

Rhys gave him a pointed look. "Not so fast. If you’re leaving, you’re taking your cousins with you. They’ve been terrorizing Cassian since you vanished."

Nyx groaned but nodded, pausing to glance at Kaia one last time. "She’s lucky she’s a baby. No one’s expecting her to deal with any of this chaos."

Azriel smirked faintly, his shadows curling protectively around his daughter. "She’ll have her time. For now, this is enough."

Nyx rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, slipping past Rhys and out the door. Rhys lingered, his gaze settling on Azriel with a mix of amusement and fondness.

"You’re in deep, aren’t you?" Rhys said softly.

Azriel finally looked up, his golden eyes unwavering. "Deeper than I ever thought possible."

Rhys smiled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Good. She deserves that."

With one last glance at Kaia, Rhys left, leaving Azriel alone once more with his sleeping daughter, his expression calm and utterly content.

As Kaia slept soundly, her tiny fists curled into the blanket, Azriel leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on her. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of her wings and the occasional creak of the cabin as the wind moved outside.

His thoughts, however, weren’t fully here. You had been gone with Feyre and Nesta for hours now, no doubt enjoying yourselves in the Day Court. He trusted you completely, but his mind always wandered when you weren’t within reach, especially with Helion around.

Azriel’s shadows stirred as if sensing his unease, curling lazily around his shoulders and wrists like smoke. He glanced at them, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Go," he murmured quietly. "Check on her."

The shadows seemed to ripple in acknowledgment before slipping from him, snaking out through the room and under the door, silent as always. He watched them disappear, his mind already imagining their path as they travelled across the cabin and beyond.

He shifted his focus back to Kaia, his fingers brushing over the edge of her blanket. She stirred briefly, one of her little wings fluttering, but then she settled again, a soft hum escaping her lips.

It didn’t take long before his shadows returned, curling around him with familiar ease. They brought back glimpses of your laughter, the sound of Feyre teasing Helion, and the faint scent of the Day Court’s jasmine-laden air.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Azriel muttered to himself, a soft chuckle escaping him. Despite his love for you, he couldn't help the small pang of longing to have you here, even in the midst of his joy at knowing you were having fun.

Kaia shifted again, and Azriel leaned forward, adjusting her blanket before sitting back, his expression softening as his shadows whispered their findings to him. At least you were happy and safe, and for now, that was enough.

The peaceful quiet of the room was shattered as the door suddenly swung open with a loud creak, followed by Cassian’s booming voice.

"Az, have you seen where—"

Before he could finish, Kaia stirred, her little nose scrunching as she let out a soft whine. Azriel shot Cassian a glare sharp enough to cut steel, his shadows coiling tighter around him in warning.

"Cassian," Azriel hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Cassian froze mid-step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he realized what he had done. "Oh, shit," he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Kaia’s whine turned into a soft, drowsy cry as her eyes fluttered open, her tiny wings twitching beneath the blanket. "Dada," she murmured groggily, her voice thick with sleep.

Azriel immediately leaned forward, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "It’s okay, Kaia," he murmured, his voice soft and calming. "Dada’s here."

Kaia blinked up at him, her big hazel eyes—so much like his—glistening with half-formed tears. She reached out a small hand, her fingers clumsily clutching at his tunic. "Too loud," she mumbled, her toddler speech slurring slightly.

Azriel shot another pointed glare at Cassian, who was still frozen in the doorway. "You woke her up," Azriel said, his tone clipped.

Cassian had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t realize she was napping," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Sorry, Kaia."

Kaia, however, wasn’t so easily placated. She turned her head toward Cassian, her little brows furrowed. "Cassy bad," she declared, her tiny voice firm despite the sleepiness clinging to it.

Cassian blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, kid. Don’t sell me out like that!"

Azriel gently scooped Kaia into his arms, her small wings drooping as she nestled against his chest. "You brought this on yourself," he muttered, his tone dry.

Kaia, already calming in her father’s arms, shot Cassian one last pout before burying her face in Azriel’s tunic. "No loud," she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Cassian held up his hands again in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’m the villain here."

Azriel sighed, rocking Kaia gently as she started to settle. "What do you need, Cassian?"

"Nothing that can’t wait," Cassian replied, stepping back toward the door with a sheepish grin. "I’ll let you get back to it. And, uh, sorry again, Kaia."

Kaia didn’t bother to respond, already drifting back into a doze against Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian gave a final wave before slipping out, closing the door much more quietly this time.

Azriel sighed, his shadows wrapping around him and Kaia protectively. "Troublemaker," he muttered, though whether he meant Cassian or his daughter, even he wasn’t sure.

Kaia shifted against Azriel’s chest, her little wings twitching under the blanket he had draped around her. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh, her tiny fists curling into his tunic as she blinked her wide hazel eyes up at him.

"Dada," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, "no sweepy."

Azriel brushed a hand gently over her soft, dark curls, his expression softening. "You need to rest, Kaia," he murmured, rocking her slightly. "You’ve had a big day already."

She shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. "No sweepy," she insisted, her voice gaining a bit more strength. Her little hand tugged at his tunic, her pout forming as she looked up at him. "Cassy loud. Kaia wake."

Azriel sighed, his shadows curling lazily around them as if to create a cocoon of calm. "I know, love," he said softly. "But you’ll be tired later if you don’t sleep now."

Kaia wrinkled her nose, clearly unconvinced. "No sweep. Play?"

He smiled faintly, brushing a finger down her nose. "It’s not time to play, Kaia."

She huffed, her little wings fluttering in agitation as she shifted in his arms. "Kaia no tired," she declared, her tone bordering on stubborn.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, standing up from the bed with her in his arms. "Alright, let’s see if we can make you sleepy again."

He began pacing the room slowly, his movements deliberate and soothing. He hummed a low, calming tune, the same one he’d used to lull her to sleep since she was a newborn. Kaia rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closing as the melody washed over her, but her little fingers still fidgeted with the edge of his tunic.

"Dada," she whispered after a moment, her voice softer now, "sing more?"

Azriel smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Of course, my star," he said, his voice gentle.

As he continued humming, Kaia’s breathing began to even out again, though her wings twitched every so often. Even as her eyelids grew heavier, she didn’t quite let herself drift off, as if determined to fight sleep as long as she could.

Azriel kept at it, patient as ever, holding her close and rocking her gently. Eventually, her small hand stilled, and her soft breaths fell into rhythm. He glanced down to see her eyes finally closed, her little body fully relaxed against his.

"Stubborn, just like your mother," he murmured with a fond smile, brushing another kiss to her forehead before settling her back onto the bed.

Azriel watched Kaia for a moment longer, ensuring she was completely settled. Her little wings lay still now, tucked neatly beneath the blanket, and her tiny hand rested loosely by her face. Her soft breaths filled the room, the kind of sound that brought a rare peace to Azriel’s ever-guarded heart.

Satisfied she was finally asleep, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his shadows curling protectively around her as if to ensure no sound or disturbance would wake her this time. He straightened slowly, his steps deliberate and silent as he moved toward the door.

Azriel opened it just wide enough to slip through, closing it with a quiet click behind him. His sharp senses immediately attuned to the sounds of the cabin: faint laughter and the unmistakable hum of conversation coming from the main room where Cassian and Rhysand were.

He moved down the hallway with his usual grace, his boots making almost no sound on the wooden floor. His shadows lingered at the edges of the hall, stretching ahead of him as though scouting the way.

As he approached the room, Cassian’s boisterous laughter echoed, followed by Rhysand’s smoother, amused tone.

"You do realize that was entirely your fault," Rhys was saying, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.

Cassian’s retort was immediate. "How was I supposed to know she was napping? Az didn’t put up a sign."

Azriel stepped into the room, his expression calm but his gaze sharp. "You didn’t need a sign, Cassian. It’s common sense."

Cassian turned, his grin wide despite the reprimand. "Ah, the shadow master returns. Did you get your little princess back to sleep?"

Azriel moved to stand near the fireplace, his shadows flickering faintly in the firelight. "She’s asleep now. Don’t wake her again, or I’ll ensure you regret it."

Rhysand chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk. "Kaia has you wrapped tighter around her finger than I thought possible, brother."

Azriel shrugged, unbothered. "She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx?"

Rhys’s smirk widened, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Touché," Cassian said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Azriel sighed, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "What’s the status of the rest of the cabin? Any other disasters I need to know about?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively. "The boys are fine—for now. Nyx is keeping them occupied."

"For how long?" Azriel asked dryly, his golden gaze shifting between them.

Rhysand grinned. "Long enough for us to enjoy the silence. Or what’s left of it, considering Cassian’s volume."

Cassian scoffed, throwing a cushion at Rhys, who dodged it with a laugh. Azriel shook his head, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression as he watched his brothers.

"Let’s just hope this calm lasts," he muttered, though deep down, he knew better.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall before Calen burst into the room, his face flushed with frustration. His dark hair was tousled, and his little wings fluttered in agitation as he stomped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Uncle Az! Uncle Rhys! Dad!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a boy who had reached his limit.

Cassian immediately straightened, his grin widening as he turned toward his youngest. "What’s wrong, champ? You look like you’ve just fought a battle and lost."

Calen shot his father a glare, his small jaw set in defiance. "Torran and Emrus won’t stop bossing me around, and Nyx keeps telling me I’m too little to play the game!"

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, lounging back in his chair with a smirk. "What game is this, exactly?"

"Some stupid hide-and-seek game, but they keep making rules that don’t make sense!" Calen huffed, his wings flaring slightly as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. "And they won’t let me hide where I want!"

Azriel’s lips twitched as he exchanged a glance with Cassian. "Sounds like they’re trying to stack the odds in their favour," he said evenly, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders.

Cassian laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ah, Calen, you’ve got to be cleverer than that. Outsmart them! You’re the youngest—that’s your secret weapon. They’ll never see it coming."

Calen frowned, clearly unimpressed by the advice. "But they don’t listen to me," he muttered, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Rhysand tapped a finger against his chin, his violet eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, Calen, if you want to win, maybe you should team up with someone else. Divide and conquer."

Calen tilted his head, his young mind clearly working through the suggestion. "Like Kaia?"

Azriel, who had been watching quietly, arched an eyebrow. "Kaia is napping, Calen. And she’s not exactly old enough to strategize."

"But she’s sneaky," Calen insisted, his eyes lighting up with the beginnings of a plan. "She’s little, and she can hide really good!"

Cassian let out a hearty laugh, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Now that’s thinking like a true warrior! But maybe let Kaia sleep a bit longer before you recruit her to your cause."

Calen sighed dramatically, his wings drooping slightly. "Fine," he grumbled, though his mind was clearly still turning over ideas.

Azriel crouched down to Calen’s level, his golden eyes steady and calm. "You’ll figure it out, Calen. And if you really need help, come find me. I’m sure we can even the playing field."

The boy perked up at that, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Uncle Az."

"Anytime," Azriel replied, straightening again as Calen turned and marched back toward the hall, clearly ready to face his brothers and cousin once more.

As the door closed behind him, Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "That one’s going to give them hell when he gets older."

Azriel simply shook his head, a faint smile lingering on his lips as his shadows whispered faintly around him. "Let’s just hope he doesn’t wake Kaia in the process."

The sound of measured footsteps approached the room, and moments later, Nyx leaned casually against the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and mild panic. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his eyes—the same striking shade as his mother’s—sparkled with mischief and just a hint of guilt.

"Uh, heads up," Nyx announced, crossing his arms and glancing between his father, Cassian, and Azriel. "There’s a broken vase on the second floor."

Rhysand’s brow lifted, his smirk fading as he sat up straighter. "A broken vase? Which vase, Nyx?"

Nyx hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, the one mom really likes. The blue one with the gold pattern."

Cassian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’ve got to be kidding me. That thing is practically an antique!"

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, his arms crossing over his chest. "How did it happen?"

Nyx shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, though the way he avoided direct eye contact betrayed his nerves. "Well, Torran and Emrus were throwing a ball, and Calen tried to catch it, but he tripped, and... smash."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath. "And where were you in all this?"

"Supervising," Nyx replied quickly, though his sly grin faltered when his father gave him a pointed look.

"Supervising," Rhys repeated dryly. "And did it occur to you to stop them before they destroyed something your mother treasures?"

Nyx raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I tried! But you know how they are—they don’t listen to me half the time. Besides," he added with a smirk, "it’s kind of funny when you think about it."

Cassian let out a short laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough when Azriel shot him a warning glare.

"You do realize," Azriel said in his calm, deadly tone, "that not only is Feyre going to be furious, but Y/N will probably be even worse. You know how she feels about people not respecting the house."

Nyx grimaced, his playful demeanor faltering entirely. "Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m warning you. I thought you might want to... I don’t know, soften the blow or something."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a weary sigh escaping him. "Nyx, you’re going to help clean it up, and then you’re going to explain to your mother and Y/N what happened. Understood?"

Nyx groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Do I have to? Can’t you just—"

"Understood?" Rhysand repeated, his tone firm.

"Yes, sir," Nyx mumbled, dragging his feet as he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Good luck with Mom and Aunt Y/N," he added with a sly grin. "I’m sure they’ll both be... understanding."

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the three men in heavy silence.

Cassian was the first to break it, shaking his head with a rueful laugh. "This is why I always say we should have fewer breakable things in the house. Kids and antiques don’t mix."

"Maybe," Azriel muttered, his jaw tightening slightly, "but I doubt that’s going to help us right now."

Rhysand chuckled darkly, his violet eyes narrowing in amusement. "If Y/N and Feyre walk in before we figure out a plan, we’re doomed."

The trio made their way up to the second floor, their footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet hall. As they rounded the corner toward the room where the vase had once sat, the sight of shards scattered across the floor greeted them.

Cassian winced, crouching down to survey the damage. "Well, that’s... something," he muttered, examining the pieces of the vase. But his voice faltered as his gaze swept over the floor and landed on Emrus, who was crouched nearby, his hand pressed tightly against his side.

Azriel was the first to react, his expression hardening as he moved quickly toward the boy. "Emrus?"

The young boy flinched but didn't immediately pull his hand away. Blood trickled between his fingers, dark against the pale skin of his hand, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Azriel's, they were wide with fear.

"It... it’s not bad," Emrus stammered, though his voice wavered with pain. "I just... I didn’t mean to—"

Azriel gently pried Emrus’s hand away from his side, and a sharp intake of breath escaped him as he saw the small shard of ceramic lodged in Emrus’s palm. The cut was deep enough that the piece had embedded itself into the wound.

"How did this happen?" Azriel asked, his voice low and controlled, though there was a clear edge of concern.

Emrus swallowed hard. "I—uh—I was trying to pick up the pieces, and I didn’t see it. It... just happened."

Cassian crouched next to him, examining the cut with a frown. "This isn’t something you can just ignore, kid. We need to get that out and clean it."

Azriel nodded, his expression shifting to one of determination as he carefully reached for the piece of ceramic embedded in Emrus’s hand. "This might hurt," he warned, his voice softening to reassure the boy.

Emrus winced as Azriel gently tugged at the shard, and the pain caused his body to stiffen, but he didn’t cry out. Azriel, with his expert hands, slowly removed the piece and then pressed his palm over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Cassian immediately stood, his voice low but urgent. "I’ll get some supplies. We need to clean it properly."

Azriel remained crouched next to Emrus, his shadows swirling around them protectively. "Stay calm, Emrus," Azriel murmured, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face. "You’re going to be fine."

Emrus nodded weakly, his face pale but determined. "I’m sorry about the vase, Uncle Az. I didn’t mean to break it."

Azriel’s gaze softened, his voice gentle. "I know you didn’t. Just focus on breathing. You’ll be alright."

Cassian returned a moment later with a small first-aid kit, and Azriel quickly got to work, cleaning the wound and applying a bandage. Once he finished, he met Emrus’s eyes. "All done."

Emrus flexed his fingers experimentally, then gave Azriel a tentative smile. "It doesn’t hurt anymore."

"Good," Azriel said, offering him a small nod. He looked up at Cassian, who was watching from a few feet away. "Make sure he doesn’t try to go back to playing until that heals, alright?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively, though there was no hiding the worry in his eyes. "Of course, of course. I’ll make sure he takes it easy for the rest of the day."

Azriel stood up, glancing once more at the broken vase before looking back at Emrus. "Are you alright to sit for a while?"

Emrus nodded again, holding up his now-bandaged hand. "Yeah. I’ll stay here."

Azriel nodded, his eyes flicking back toward the door as he stepped away, glancing at Cassian. "Let’s clean up the mess before the others get up here. They won’t be pleased."

Cassian grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand. At least once we show them the bleeding hand, they’ll feel sorry for you."

Azriel smirked. "I think they’ll just be mad that we didn’t prevent it in the first place."

"True," Cassian replied with a chuckle. "Alright, let’s get to it."

As they bent down to start cleaning the shards, Azriel’s mind wandered briefly to the children—so full of energy, always finding ways to get into trouble. But despite it all, he knew he would do anything to protect them. Even if it meant dealing with broken vases and wounds along the way.

-----

The three of you were sprawled across an opulent chaise in one of the Day Court’s sunlit sitting rooms, golden light pouring in through the high windows. The wine bottles scattered across the table were almost empty, and the haze of tipsiness made everything funnier, everything lighter. Nesta and Feyre were giggling uncontrollably, their cheeks flushed a deep pink.

“You know,” Feyre slurred, swirling the last of her wine in her glass, “I have to say... I was worried when I first got with Rhys. I mean, he talks such a big game—”

You cut her off with a loud groan, throwing a pillow at her. “Don’t. Stop. No!” You held up a hand as if warding off some invisible evil. “Feyre, that’s my brother. My brother. I don’t want to hear anything about him in bed!”

Nesta burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered—”

“No!” you shrieked, grabbing another pillow to chuck at her this time. “Absolutely not! I’m disgusted you’d even suggest it. I’d rather rip out my own wings again than hear about Rhysand’s—” You shuddered dramatically, cutting yourself off.

Feyre, in tears from laughing so hard, managed to gasp out, “Fine, fine! I won’t bring him up again. But just so you know... amazing. Amazing.”

Nesta let out a cackle as you groaned loudly, grabbing the wine bottle and drinking straight from it to erase the mental image.

“Alright,” Nesta said after catching her breath, leaning back smugly. “Since Feyre can’t talk about Rhys anymore, let’s talk about Cassian.”

You snorted. “This should be good.”

Nesta smirked, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. “Oh, he’s exactly what you’d expect. Loud, commanding, cocky. He thinks he’s the best at everything—and honestly? He’s not wrong.”

Feyre and you burst into laughter, but Nesta wasn’t done. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a devilish grin. “But there’s this one thing he does with his wings—”

“No, no, no!” Feyre groaned, covering her ears with her hands. “I don’t need to hear about my brother-in-law like that!”

You, meanwhile, were doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you laughed. “Nesta, you’re going to kill her!”

Nesta raised her glass in triumph, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, he’s got stamina. And creativity. What more could I ask for?”

Feyre looked like she might pass out from mortification, and you took the opportunity to change the subject—or so you thought.

“Alright, Y/N,” Nesta said, turning her sharp gaze on you. “Your turn. Spill. What’s Azriel like?”

You froze mid-sip, choking slightly as you set the glass down. “Oh, no. I’m not doing this. No way.”

Feyre and Nesta both leaned in closer, their eyes glittering with mischievous glee. “Come on,” Feyre urged, her voice lilting with the wine. “We told you about ours. Fair’s fair.”

Nesta smirked. “Don’t be shy. We all know Azriel’s got... talents.”

You flushed, shaking your head furiously. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not feeding your curiosity again.”

“Please,” Feyre said, drawing the word out into a whine. “We’re your sisters! We deserve to know!”

You sighed, giving them a half-hearted glare. “Fine. I’ll say this: Azriel is... thorough.”

They both burst out laughing, and you quickly held up a finger. “That’s all you’re getting. Thorough. Nothing else.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun. I was hoping for something juicy.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, smirking, “I’ve got to preserve some mystery. Unlike you two, apparently.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, her competitive streak kicking in as she leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You’re holding out on us, Y/N. ‘Thorough’ doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to give us something."

Feyre nodded in agreement, her cheeks flushed with wine and mischief. "Exactly. You can’t just leave us hanging. Spill, sister."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You two are relentless, you know that?"

Nesta smirked, crossing her arms. "And you’re stubborn. But we’ve got all day and another bottle of wine. So talk."

Feyre chimed in, waving the almost-empty bottle in your direction. "We’ll even pour you another glass if it helps."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "Bribery? Really?"

"Whatever it takes," Feyre said, her grin widening.

With a dramatic sigh, you threw your hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine. But if Rhysand or Cassian ever hear about this, I’m blaming both of you."

Nesta’s smirk widened as she refilled her glass. "They won’t hear it from us. Promise."

You took a long sip of wine, stalling for time. Finally, you set the glass down and crossed your arms. "Alright. Azriel... is quiet. Not in a boring way, but in this... intense, focused way. He pays attention to everything. He notices the little things—like the way my breath hitches when he touches certain places or the exact moment to slow down or speed up. He’s—"

Feyre’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "Oh, Mother. Keep going."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her smirk practically predatory. "I knew it. All that control he has? Bet it all comes undone in the bedroom."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Sometimes. But even when it does, it’s still... deliberate. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s enjoying every second of it."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "No wonder you look so smug all the time."

Nesta laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I always figured he’d be good, but damn, Y/N. You hit the jackpot."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small, satisfied grin on your face. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Feyre said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

Nesta clinked her glass against Feyre’s, her smirk firmly in place. "We’re definitely bringing this up next time the guys think they’re the superior ones."

You groaned, already regretting giving them anything to work with. "You two are impossible."

Feyre grinned, her cheeks still flushed with laughter and wine. "And you’re married to a Shadowsinger. Who knew you were the wildest one of all of us?"

Nesta snorted, leaning in closer with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Alright, next question: How does he use his shadows—"

"NO!" you shouted, cutting her off as you reached for the wine bottle and poured yourself another glass. "This conversation is over. Forever."

But the laughter that followed made you realize you’d walked right into their trap—and you were never going to live it down.

-----

The cabin was finally quiet, the day’s chaos simmering down to a peaceful hum. The fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room. All five kids—Nyx, Torran, Emrus, Calen, and little Kaia—were snuggled up on the massive couch, each dressed in their pyjamas. For the first time all day, they were calm, their boundless energy having finally run its course.

Nyx, ever the eldest and self-proclaimed “responsible one,” sat on one end of the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was pretending to read a book, though his eyelids were drooping. Next to him, Torran and Emrus were leaning against each other, their earlier squabbles forgotten as they shared a blanket. Calen was curled up near Emrus’s side, clutching a small stuffed dragon he insisted was his lucky charm.

Kaia, the tiniest of them all, was tucked securely between Nyx and a pile of pillows, her wings fluttering slightly as she fought to stay awake. Her chubby hands clutched her favourite soft toy, a well-loved plush bat Azriel had given her. She yawned, her big hazel eyes—so much like her father’s—blinking slowly as the warmth of the fire and the coziness of the moment lulled her.

Azriel stood quietly by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the rare sight. His shadows swirled lazily around him, their usual restlessness mirroring his relief that, at last, the house was still. Rhysand was seated in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in hand, his head leaning back against the chair as he watched the children with a faint, contented smile. Cassian, sprawled in another chair, was grinning like a proud father, even as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this still,” Cassian muttered, his voice low so as not to disturb the moment.

Rhysand chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle. Someone write this down.”

Azriel allowed himself a small smile, his gaze lingering on Kaia as she yawned again, her wings twitching before she snuggled deeper into the pillows. “Kaia’s usually asleep long before this,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

Cassian grinned. “She’s a fighter, that one. Just like her dad.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, stepping further into the room to drape another blanket over the children. Kaia’s tiny hand reached out instinctively to clutch the edge of the blanket, pulling it close to her chin.

“You think they’ll actually stay down this time?” Rhysand asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel glanced at the sleeping children, his expression softening. “They’re done for the night. Even Kaia can’t fight sleep forever.”

Cassian let out a contented sigh, resting his head back. “Peace at last. Let’s not jinx it.”

Nyx stretched his arms over his head, his book slipping onto his lap as he yawned. He glanced at the younger boys, Torran and Emrus, who were beginning to nod off under their shared blanket. With the air of someone much older than his thirteen years, Nyx stood and tapped Torran’s shoulder.

“Alright, time for bed,” he said softly, though his tone left little room for argument.

Torran groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “But it’s warm here...”

Nyx rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’ll be warm in bed too. Come on, before Uncle Cassian carries you like a baby.”

Emrus chuckled sleepily, nudging his brother. “He will, you know.”

That got Torran moving, albeit slowly. He stretched and stumbled off the couch, dragging Emrus with him. Together, the three boys shuffled toward their room, their footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

Cassian, watching from his chair, smirked as he stood. “That’s my boys. Go on, Nyx, make sure they brush their teeth.”

Nyx waved him off, already leading the way. “I know, I know. Night, Uncle Cassian. Night, Uncle Az.”

“Goodnight,” Azriel said quietly, his gaze still on Kaia, who was now fully asleep on the couch.

Cassian turned his attention to Calen, who was still clutching his stuffed dragon and blinking groggily. “Alright, little warrior, time for you too.”

Calen pouted but held up his arms for Cassian to lift him. “Carry me?” he mumbled sleepily.

Cassian’s grin softened as he scooped the six-year-old into his arms, dragon and all. “Of course, buddy. Let’s get you to bed.”

Calen rested his head against Cassian’s shoulder, his eyes already drooping shut as they headed toward the boys’ room. Cassian glanced back at Azriel before disappearing down the hallway.

“You’ve got it good with just one,” he teased lightly.

Azriel’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia one last time. “For now.”

The house grew quieter as the boys settled into their room, leaving only the crackle of the fire and Kaia’s soft breathing in the living room. Peace, for now, reigned in the cabin.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his tea in his cup as he watched Azriel fuss over Kaia. A sly smile spread across his face as he crossed one leg over the other, his posture relaxed but his tone laced with mischief.

“You know, Az,” Rhys began casually, his voice low to avoid waking Kaia. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the great Shadowsinger—silent, brooding, and deadly—would be tucking a toddler in on a couch like a doting father.”

Azriel shot him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “What’s your point, Rhys?”

Rhys’s grin widened. “Oh, no point. It’s just amusing to see how utterly whipped you are by someone who weighs less than a loaf of bread and calls you ‘Da-da’ with half her words missing.”

Azriel huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia once more. “She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx still calling you ‘Rhysie’?”

Rhys feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “That’s different. Nyx calls me that out of love and respect.”

“Or to annoy you,” Azriel countered smoothly.

Rhys chuckled, conceding the point. “Fair enough. But seriously, look at you. The mighty Shadowsinger reduced to a pile of mush every time she looks at you with those big eyes.”

Azriel finally sat back, his arms resting on his knees as he glanced down at Kaia’s sleeping form. The faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Can you blame me?”

Rhys tilted his head, studying his brother-in-law with a rare softness in his gaze. “No, I really can’t. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, and honestly, it’s a sight to behold. Who would’ve thought Azriel’s greatest weakness would be a pint-sized Illyrian with wings?”

Azriel’s shadows curled lazily around him, their movements mirroring his contentment. “She’s not my weakness, Rhys,” he said quietly, his voice firm. “She’s my strength.”

Rhys’s teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper. He gave a small nod, his voice quieter now. “You’re a good father, Az. Kaia’s lucky to have you.”

Azriel looked back at him, his expression softening in gratitude. “Thanks, Rhys.”

But, true to form, Rhys couldn’t let the moment stay too serious for long. He leaned forward, the mischief returning to his eyes. “Still, if she starts bossing you around like Y/N bossed me, I reserve the right to laugh.”

Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair. “She already does, Rhys. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to remind her that her ‘Rhysie’ uncle is always available for tea parties.”

Rhys groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Why do I get the feeling that’s going to come back to haunt me?”

Azriel’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Because it will.”

Cassian returned to the living room, his heavy footsteps signalling his arrival. In his hand was a folded piece of parchment sealed with the mark of a messenger. His expression, though not overtly grim, carried a weight that made both Rhysand and Azriel glance up immediately.

“Looks like we’ve got a situation,” Cassian said, holding up the letter. He handed it to Rhys, who broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents, his brows knitting together.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, his posture straightening, shadows stirring slightly around him.

Rhys sighed as he folded the letter back up. “There’s trouble at one of the camps—an argument that’s spiralled out of control between a couple of the commanders. It’s threatening to disrupt training for the younglings, and the emissary is asking for our intervention before it escalates further.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “I would go, but I can’t leave Torran, Emrus, and Calen here without one of us. They’ve finally calmed down, and I don’t trust them not to burn this cabin to the ground if I’m gone.”

Rhys nodded, rubbing his temple as he considered the situation. Then his gaze shifted to Azriel. “Az, do you think you can handle this? I’d go myself, but I promised Feyre I’d keep an eye on Nyx this week, and you’re... well, you’re better suited for delicate diplomacy when it comes to these camps.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing over at the couch where Kaia was still curled up, sleeping peacefully. His brow furrowed as he weighed the request. “It depends on how long I’ll be gone. I don’t want her to feel unsettled without me here.”

Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’ll be fine, Az. We’ve got this. You know we’ll take good care of her—Kaia adores Cassian and me.”

Cassian grinned, thumbing toward himself. “She adores me more than you, Rhys. Don’t lie to the man.”

Azriel shot him a dry look before turning back to Rhys. “How bad is the situation? Will this just be a quick visit, or am I looking at days of negotiation?”

“According to the letter, it shouldn’t take more than a day or two to resolve,” Rhys said reassuringly. “You’d fly out tomorrow morning, handle the situation, and be back before Kaia even has time to miss you too much.”

Azriel still looked reluctant, his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. His shadows curled protectively around him, their movement reflecting his unease.

“Az,” Cassian said, his voice softer now. “We’ll take care of her like she’s our own. You know that. And if anything happens—anything at all—you’ll be the first to know.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “She’s in good hands, brother. Go sort out the camp mess and come back to her. She’ll be fine.”

Azriel exhaled deeply, his gaze softening as he looked at Kaia once more. After a long pause, he gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll go. But if anything happens, I expect to know immediately.”

“Of course,” Rhys said, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Now, get some rest tonight. You’ll need it if you’re flying out first thing tomorrow.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on Kaia as she slept peacefully on the couch, her tiny form curled into the blanket. He could feel the weight of his decision to leave, the protective instinct that surged through him, but he knew the task ahead was necessary. He stood slowly, intending to lift Kaia and carry her to her room for the night, his heart heavy with the thought of being away from her.

Just as he stepped forward, Rhysand’s voice broke the silence.

“Az,” Rhys said, his tone soft but firm. “Leave her. We’ll take care of her while you get some rest. You need to be at your best tomorrow.”

Cassian, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, added with a reassuring grin, “We’ve got this, Shadowsinger. Go sleep. Kaia’s in good hands with us.”

Azriel paused, his gaze flicking between his brothers. He opened his mouth to argue, but the fatigue he’d been pushing aside all day hit him like a wave. His shoulders slumped slightly as he realized they were right. He hadn’t slept much, and the journey tomorrow would require all of his focus.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt. His gaze drifted back to Kaia, still wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, completely unaware of the growing distance between them.

Rhys stepped forward, giving his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re sure, Azriel. You can’t be at your best if you’re exhausted. Let us take over for tonight. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Kaia’s getting more comfortable with me than you these days.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed, and he turned his gaze back to his daughter. She was resting soundly, her breathing even and calm. It wasn’t easy to leave, but he knew the safety of the camp depended on him.

Finally, he gave a small nod, stepping back reluctantly. “Alright. But if she wakes up…”

“We’ll handle it, Az,” Rhys said firmly. “Go rest. You’ll be back before you even miss a beat.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment longer before turning toward the stairs. As he made his way to his room, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his shadows curling protectively around him even though he trusted his brothers completely.

“I’ll be back before she knows I’m gone,” he murmured to himself, his heart heavy but determined.

Once Azriel disappeared up the stairs, Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance. The room was quiet now, save for the soft sound of Kaia’s breathing and the occasional crackle from the hearth. Cassian leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out and folding his arms behind his head, a thoughtful expression settling over his face.

“You know,” Cassian began, his voice low to avoid disturbing Kaia, “I never thought I’d see Azriel like this. Completely head over heels for that little one. It’s... different.”

Rhys chuckled softly, leaning against the edge of the table. “Different is an understatement. Did you see the way he was looking at her just now? Like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t blame him. She’s adorable. And she’s got his eyes—those big, soulful eyes that just make you want to give her the world.” He paused, his tone turning teasing. “Not to mention, she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. Did you notice how he didn’t even argue when she demanded two bedtime stories last night?”

Rhys raised a brow, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Az? Not arguing? That’s a first. Kaia might be the only person who can command him without a single word of protest.”

Cassian laughed quietly, his broad shoulders shaking. “Honestly, it’s a little terrifying how much power she has over him. But it’s good for him, you know? Az needed something—or someone—to break through that wall of his. Kaia did that without even trying.”

Rhys nodded, his expression softening as he glanced at the sleeping toddler. “She’s brought out a side of him we never thought we’d see. A side even Y/N couldn’t fully reach. Don’t get me wrong, she’s his world, but Kaia... she’s something else entirely.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you think he worries too much about her, though? I mean, the way he hesitated about going to the camp tomorrow—it’s like he can’t bear to be apart from her, even for a day.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course he worries. She’s his daughter, and she’s so small, so fragile compared to what we’ve dealt with with the boys. But that’s just Azriel. He’s always been the protector, the one who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Kaia’s just added to that weight.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but she’s also lightened it in a way. You can see it in his eyes—he’s happier now. More at peace. Even with everything going on, he’s... softer.”

Rhys smirked. “Softer, yes. But don’t tell him that. He might actually throw you out the window this time.”

Cassian chuckled, leaning back again. “Noted. Still, it’s good to see him like this. And if he’s trusting us with her tonight, it means he knows we’ll take care of her.” He tilted his head toward Kaia, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “She might be tiny, but she’s already got the Shadowsinger’s stubborn streak.”

Rhys laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, she’s definitely her father’s daughter. We’re in for it when she grows up, that’s for sure.”

They both fell silent for a moment, their gazes drifting to Kaia. Despite their teasing and banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Azriel’s devotion to his daughter was something they both respected deeply, and they’d do whatever it took to protect her in his absence.

Cassian broke the silence with a smirk. “So, what are the odds she’s awake in five minutes, asking for a snack?”

Rhys chuckled, glancing at the clock. “Oh, I’d say pretty high. Better get ready—Az will never let us hear the end of it if we mess this up.”

Cassian grinned. “Bring it on. I’ve faced worse than a grumpy toddler. I think.”

Rhysand let out a low, amused chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the table. His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked over at Cassian, who was now trying—and failing—to untangle one of his sons’ cloaks from the back of a chair.

“Cass, you can barely keep your three in line,” Rhys teased, his grin widening. “And you think you’ll be fine with Kaia added to the mix? Let’s be honest, she’s smarter than all three of your boys combined—and probably smarter than you too.”

Cassian groaned, finally yanking the cloak free, only to find it ripped slightly at the seam. He held it up with a sheepish grin. “First of all, this was already torn. And second, I’ll have you know I’m an excellent multitasker. Handling three boys and one tiny shadowling is a piece of cake.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. The same multitasking that led to Torran and Emrus turning the entire second floor into a battlefield last week? Or was it the time Calen painted your leathers because you ‘weren’t paying attention’?”

Cassian waved him off, though his cheeks tinted slightly. “Minor hiccups. Kids are kids, Rhys. They’re supposed to make a mess. Besides, Kaia’s an angel compared to my boys. How hard can it be?”

Rhys snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “An angel? Did you miss the part where she stole Azriel’s daggers last month and tried to hide them under the couch because she thought they were ‘shiny’? She’s not just an angel—she’s a sneaky little shadowling with more cunning than all of us combined.”

Cassian shrugged, unfazed. “She’s two, Rhys. How much trouble can she really cause?”

Rhys threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and echoing through the room. “Oh, Cass. Famous last words. Let’s just hope she doesn’t team up with Calen. I’m not sure the cabin—or you—would survive.”

Cassian smirked, tossing the ripped cloak onto the nearest chair. “If that happens, I’ll blame you. You’re the one who convinced Az to leave her with us, after all.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You’re on your own, brother. Just don’t come crying to me when Kaia outsmarts you and the boys band together to take over the cabin.”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward Kaia, still sleeping soundly. “She’ll be fine. I’ve got this.”

Rhys gave him a knowing look, his grin never faltering. “If by ‘got this’ you mean you’re about to be completely outmatched by a toddler, then yes, Cassian. You’ve definitely ‘got this.’”

Kaia stirred under the blanket, her tiny body shifting as she blinked her sleepy eyes open. Her dark lashes fluttered, and for a moment, she stayed still, her little face scrunching as if debating whether to wake fully. Then, with a soft yawn that revealed her tiny teeth, she wriggled out of the blanket, her dishevelled curls sticking up in every direction.

“Dada?” she murmured groggily, her voice soft and still thick with sleep.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance, both freezing like guilty children caught in the act. Rhys crouched down to her level, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, little shadowling,” Rhys greeted her softly. “Your dad went to get some rest. You’re stuck with us for now.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her tiny face thoughtful as if processing his words. Then she rubbed her eyes with her fists and let out another yawn.

“No Dada?” she asked, her tone slightly indignant now.

Cassian stepped forward with a grin, crouching beside Rhys. “Don’t worry, Kaia. We’re here to take care of you. You’ve got me, Uncle Cassy, and Uncle Rhysie. What more could you need?”

Kaia tilted her head, her sharp, Azriel-like eyes narrowing in clear suspicion. “Dada betta,” she mumbled, clutching the blanket to her chest as if it offered some sort of protection from these two uncles.

Rhys chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he glanced at Cassian. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Kaia’s gaze flicked between them before she reached her tiny hands out toward Rhys, her bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. “Up, Rhysie,” she demanded, her toddler voice firm despite her small size.

Rhys, unable to resist her, scooped her up into his arms, settling her on his hip. “Alright, shadowling. What’s the plan? Are we going to sit quietly, or are you going to join your cousins in their chaos sleeps?”

Kaia laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with sleepiness. “No chaos. No loud,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Cassian laughed loudly at that, earning a sharp look from Kaia. “Too loud!” she scolded, her tiny hand patting Rhys’s shoulder as if to emphasize her point.

“See?” Rhys teased, smirking at Cassian. “She’s already taking charge. I told you she’s the smartest one here.”

Kaia hummed sleepily, snuggling closer to Rhys. “Dada come back?” she asked quietly, her small hand fisting his shirt.

Rhys rubbed her back soothingly. “He’ll be back soon, Kaia. But for now, you’re stuck with us.”

Kaia didn’t respond, but the way her eyes drifted closed again suggested she wasn’t too upset about the arrangement—for now.

Rhys smiled softly as he looked down at Kaia, who was now dozing lightly on his shoulder, her tiny fingers still clutching his shirt. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, his expression unusually tender.

“You know,” he said quietly, careful not to wake her, “I’ve always kind of wanted a daughter. There’s just something about them. They’re...different. Softer, maybe. Or maybe it’s because they can wrap you around their little fingers in a heartbeat.”

Cassian snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t let Feyre hear you say that. She’ll be dragging you to the Healer’s to reverse what she made you do.”

Rhys chuckled, glancing over at him with a smirk. “As if. Feyre would murder me before she let me suggest another kid. She barely handled Nyx as a toddler.”

Cassian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nesta wouldn’t even entertain the idea. The second Calen started running, she told me I was done. And not just done—snipped. She practically dragged me to the Healer’s herself.”

Rhys’s laughter deepened, his shoulders shaking. “At least Feyre pretended it was my idea. Said something about how ‘three Illyrian warriors in the house is enough for one lifetime.’”

Cassian shook his head, grinning. “Cowards. They couldn’t handle another one of us.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes flicking down to Kaia, who stirred slightly but remained asleep. “Not sure I blame them. One Nyx is plenty of trouble. But...I don’t know. Something about having a daughter feels different.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, his grin teasing. “Starting to sound like you’re jealous of Azriel.”

Rhys smirked, but there was a warmth to it. “Maybe I am. Kaia’s going to be trouble when she grows up, though. She’s got that look in her eye—sharp and calculating, just like her dad. And with Az’s temper? She’ll be unstoppable.”

Cassian grinned, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Good thing she’s got us around to spoil her. If Az isn’t careful, I might just claim her as my fourth.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck convincing Nesta to let you bring her home. Kaia’s got enough sass to go around—she might just turn your whole house upside down.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grin mischievous as he gestured toward Kaia, still nestled against Rhys’s shoulder. "You think Az and Y/N are going to have another one?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow, adjusting Kaia slightly to keep her comfortable. "You mean after this little shadowling? They might need a breather first. She’s only two."

Cassian smirked. "Sure, but you know how Az is. He’s obsessed with that kid. If Y/N even hinted at wanting another, he’d be on board in a heartbeat."

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "True, but have you met my sister? She’s not exactly the most patient when it comes to sleepless nights. I think Kaia already takes up enough of her energy."

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Yeah, but she’s got that soft spot for Az. All he’d have to do is give her one of those brooding, puppy-dog looks, and she’d be done for."

Rhys laughed, a deep, rich sound. "You’re probably right. Azriel could convince her of anything with that quiet persistence of his. And let’s be honest, Kaia’s adorable enough to make anyone consider giving her a sibling."

Cassian tilted his head, considering. "If they do have another, what do you think? Another girl or a boy this time?"

Rhys tapped his fingers on the armrest, his expression thoughtful. "Knowing Az, it wouldn’t matter. He’d adore them either way. Though...a little boy with Y/N’s temper? That would be entertaining to watch."

Cassian barked out a laugh. "Can you imagine? A mini-Azriel running around but with Y/N’s attitude? The kid would have the entire Night Court wrapped around their finger before they could even talk."

Rhys smirked, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Or Kaia would just boss them around like she already does with everyone else. Either way, they’d have their hands full."

Cassian stretched, his wings flexing behind him as he grinned. "I say we place bets. If they have another, how long before the new kid starts causing trouble? Kaia set the bar high—stealing Az’s daggers before her second birthday."

Rhys shook his head, laughing. "I’m not betting on my sister’s family planning. But if they do have another, I’m sure it’ll be chaos—and hilarious to watch from a safe distance."

Kaia stirred against Rhys’s shoulder, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes as she let out a sleepy little whine. Her dark lashes fluttered open, and she blinked blearily at the room. For a moment, it seemed like she might settle back down, but then she wiggled, her small hands tugging at Rhys’s shirt.

“Rhysie,” she murmured, her voice soft but insistent.

Rhys glanced down at her, his expression fond. “What’s wrong, little shadowling? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Kaia shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. “No sweep. Wanna go ‘side,” she said, her toddler speech firm despite her grogginess.

Cassian snorted from across the room, trying to hide his laugh behind his hand. “She wants to go outside? At this hour? She’s got Az’s stubbornness, all right.”

Kaia turned her sharp gaze on Cassian, her little brow furrowing. “Not Cassy. Talkin’ to Rhysie,” she declared, her tone almost scolding.

Rhys bit back a laugh as he shifted her in his arms. “Outside? It’s night-time, Kaia. There’s snow everywhere. It’s cold.”

Kaia nodded enthusiastically, her little hands patting his chest. “Snow! Wanna pway in snow!”

Cassian leaned forward, his grin wide. “She’s persistent. What do you say, Rhys? Midnight snowball fight?”

Rhys shook his head, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not letting her freeze out there. Azriel would kill me.”

Kaia’s lip wobbled at his refusal, her big, teary eyes locking onto Rhys’s face. “Pwease, Rhysie? Wanna pway,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to tug at his heart.

Cassian leaned back with a laugh. “Good luck saying no to that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pretending to be defeated. “Kaia, it’s cold and dark. But how about this? If you go back to sleep now, I’ll take you out to play first thing in the morning. Deal?”

Kaia considered this, her little face scrunching in thought. “Pwomise?”

Rhys nodded, holding up a hand. “I promise. First thing in the morning, snowball fights and snow angels.”

Kaia finally seemed satisfied, snuggling back against his shoulder. “Okay...but Rhysie better not forget.”

Cassian shook his head, chuckling softly. “She’s got you, brother. Good luck living up to that promise.”

Rhys smirked, patting Kaia’s back as she drifted off again. “Just wait until morning. We’ll see who wins the snowball fight.”

Kaia shifted in Rhys’s arms, her little body restless as she tried to find a comfortable spot. She let out a soft sigh, her dark lashes fluttering as she attempted to settle.

But after a few moments, she squirmed again, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes. “Can’t sweep,” she mumbled, her voice quiet but full of frustration.

Rhys looked down at her, his brows raising in amusement. “Can’t sleep, huh?”

Kaia shook her head, her curls brushing against his chest. “No sweep. Eyes no close,” she explained, her toddler logic making perfect sense to her.

Cassian chuckled from across the room, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “She’s too stubborn, just like her dad. She’s going to wear you out, Rhys.”

Kaia shot him a glare, her little nose scrunching. “No stubborn. Wanna pway!”

Rhys smirked, adjusting her in his arms. “You know, Kaia, it’s very late. Even the snow is sleeping.”

Kaia’s eyes widened, and she tilted her head at him. “Snow sweep?”

Cassian nearly choked on his laughter, turning away to compose himself.

Rhys nodded solemnly, fighting back his own grin. “Oh, yes. Snowflakes need rest too. They work hard falling all day.”

Kaia seemed to ponder this for a moment, her tiny fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “But...but I no tire,” she finally said, her voice a little quieter now, as if trying to convince herself.

Rhys pressed a kiss to her curls, his tone soothing. “How about we try, just for a little bit? Close your eyes, and if you’re still not sleepy after a while, we’ll think of something else. Deal?”

Kaia hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Deal...but no sweep yet.”

Rhys cradled her a little closer, gently rocking her in his arms. “We’ll see, little shadowling. We’ll see.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I’m betting she lasts five more minutes before she’s out again.”

Kaia’s eyes narrowed at him, her little voice firm. “No sweep!”

Both males laughed softly as Kaia huffed, snuggling closer to Rhys but still determined to stay awake.

Rhys sighed, bouncing Kaia lightly as she continued to fidget. “All right, little shadowling, since you can’t sleep with me, let’s see if Cassian’s big, loud arms can tire you out.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her dark eyes narrowing. “No Cassy,” she protested, her tiny hands clutching at his shirt.

Cassian, sitting sprawled in a chair nearby, grinned and opened his arms dramatically. “Come on, Kaia. Uncle Cassy’s warm and cozy. I promise not to be too loud.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him. “You too noisy. No want Cassy!”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Too noisy, huh? Well, maybe you’ll make him quiet down for once.”

Ignoring her protests, he carefully shifted her over to Cassian. Kaia squirmed, her wings fluttering weakly as she pouted. “Rhysieee,” she whined, reaching back for him as Cassian scooped her up with ease.

Cassian held her snugly against his chest, feigning offense. “Hey, I’m fun! You just don’t know it yet.”

Kaia huffed, crossing her little arms and burying her face against his shoulder. “No Cassy. Want Rhysie.”

Rhys smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Cass. Let’s see if you can keep her entertained.”

Cassian grinned down at the stubborn toddler. “All right, Kaia, how about this? If you stay with me for five minutes and still want Rhys, I’ll hand you right back. Deal?”

Kaia peeked up at him suspiciously, her brow furrowed. “Pwomise?”

Cassian held up his hand solemnly. “I promise. But I’m pretty sure I can win you over before then.”

Kaia didn’t look convinced, but she let out a resigned sigh, settling against him begrudgingly. “Okay...no loud,” she warned, poking his chest with her tiny finger.

Rhys laughed softly, shaking his head. “Good luck, Cassian. She’s tougher to win over than the Illyrians at camp.”

Cassian smirked as he began rocking her gently. “Oh, please. I’ve got this. By the end of the night, she’ll be asking for Cassy instead of Rhysie.”

Kaia made a disbelieving noise, muffled against his shirt, and both males chuckled, the sound filling the room as she began to relax slightly in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia settled reluctantly against Cassian’s broad chest, her little fingers fidgeted against his shirt. She let out a soft huff, still pouting about being handed over.

Cassian, ever the charmer, gave her a grin. “What’s the matter, Kaia? I’m way comfier than Rhysie. Don’t you think?”

Kaia looked up at him, her dark brows knitting together in toddler indignation. “No.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Tough crowd. All right, what can Uncle Cassy do to make you smile?”

Instead of answering, Kaia raised her small hand and grabbed a lock of his dark hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“Hey!” Cassian exclaimed, his grin widening as he leaned back slightly. “What’s that for, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lips twitched, as if she was trying not to smile. “Hair funny,” she mumbled, giving it another playful tug.

Rhys, watching from his spot against the wall, smirked. “Looks like she’s testing your patience, Cass. Maybe she thinks you need a new hairstyle.”

Cassian glanced at Rhys, feigning offense. “Oh, please. My hair is flawless, thank you very much.”

Kaia, clearly unimpressed, tugged again, this time letting out a tiny giggle. “No. Funny.”

Cassian chuckled, reaching up to gently take her hand. “All right, little troublemaker. Let’s keep the hair-pulling to a minimum, huh? Uncle Cassy’s hair isn’t as strong as daddy’s.”

Kaia tilted her head, considering this, before giving a final, cheeky tug. “Cassy hair no strong!”

Both males burst into laughter at her declaration, and even Kaia let out a small giggle, finally relaxing in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia snuggled deeper into Cassian’s arms, her little body began to stiffen, her face scrunching in a way that suggested something was bothering her. Her small fingers, which had been fidgeting with his shirt, slowed to a halt, and she let out a soft whimper.

Cassian paused, looking down at her with a raised brow. “What’s wrong now, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lip trembled slightly, her eyes filling with an unspoken sadness. “Want mama,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, but it was clear as day to Cassian.

Cassian’s heart softened, and he gently ran a hand over her dark curls. “You miss her already, huh?” he asked, his voice gentle, though his teasing nature faded as he saw the way her little face crumpled.

Kaia nodded, the whimper turning into a small sob. “Mama...” she repeated, sniffling.

Rhys, still leaning against the wall, watched the scene with an understanding look. He stepped forward, his tone quiet as he addressed Kaia’s distress. “She’s not far, little shadow,” he said softly. “She’s probably just taking a break with Aunt Feyre and Nesta. We’ll bring her to you in just a week.”

But Kaia’s tears continued to spill, her small voice rising in sadness. “Want mama now...”

Cassian exchanged a look with Rhys, and though he was used to being the loud and boisterous one, he softened as he held Kaia closer. “You’ll see her soon, I promise,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “She’ll be right back here, snuggling you, okay?”

Kaia hiccupped, her tiny body still trembling in his arms. “Want mama,” she repeated, more urgently this time, her little face pressing against his chest in an attempt to calm herself.

Rhys sighed quietly, shaking his head with a small smile. “She’s just like Azriel—stubborn to the core. You better get used to it, Cass. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Cassian shot Rhys a mock glare, but there was a softness in his eyes as he rocked Kaia gently. “Yeah, I’ve got this. Go get Azriel, will you?”

Rhys nodded and disappeared from the room, leaving Cassian with Kaia as she continued to whimper softly, still missing her mother.

Rhys carefully stepped into Azriel’s room, the shadows creeping along the walls as they adjusted to the dim light. Azriel was sprawled out in bed, a faint snore escaping from his lips as he slept, his wings tucked neatly around him. Rhys hesitated for a moment, then, with a wry smile, he knelt down beside the bed and shook Azriel's shoulder gently.

“Az, wake up,” Rhys said quietly, but firmly.

Azriel let out a gruff sound, his eyes flickering open and narrowing as he adjusted to the light. He blinked a few times, clearly not yet fully awake. “What’s going on?” he murmured, rubbing at his face with one hand as he yawned.

Rhys chuckled softly, folding his arms across his chest. “Kaia’s upset. She’s asking for you.”

Azriel’s expression softened instantly at the mention of his daughter. He sat up quickly, his tiredness forgotten. “Is she okay?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

“She’s missing her mom. I think she needs you.” Rhys stood and gave him a small, knowing smile. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

Azriel nodded, running a hand through his messy hair as he rose from the bed. He was still in his sleep clothes—dark pants and a loose shirt—moving with a sense of urgency as he followed Rhys out of the room. His wings shifted restlessly behind him as if they too could feel his concern for Kaia.

They made their way down the hallway, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet cabin. As they entered the living room, the soft whimpering from Kaia could be heard faintly.

Cassian was still holding her, but Kaia’s distress hadn’t settled. She was curled up against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder, and every few seconds, another whimper would escape her. Her small body was trembling slightly, the sadness evident in her posture.

Azriel’s heart clenched as he saw his daughter’s misery. He hurried over to Cassian, in front of him. “Kaia,” he said softly, brushing a few strands of her dark hair from her face.

At the sound of her father’s voice, Kaia’s eyes fluttered open, and her little face twisted with frustration. She reached out with one small hand, her voice shaking. “Dada…” she whimpered, her arms reaching toward him.

Azriel’s chest tightened as he gathered her into his arms, her tiny body pressing against his as he held her close. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Kaia sniffled, still not fully comforted, but her sobs began to subside as she snuggled against her father. She shifted in his arms, her tiny hands clutching his shirt tightly. “Want mama,” she said, her voice soft and broken.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching for his daughter. He held her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I know, baby,” he whispered. “But mama’s resting right now. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a quiet glance, knowing how much Azriel’s presence would help calm Kaia. Rhys stepped back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “She’ll be asleep in no time now,” he said.

Cassian nodded, though his usual mischievous grin was gone. “You’re the only one who can calm her when she’s like this.”

Azriel didn’t say anything at first, his full attention on Kaia as she snuggled closer to him. He gently rocked her, murmuring reassurances as she finally relaxed in his arms. He glanced up at his friends, his voice quiet but steady. “Thanks, both of you. I owe you one.”

Rhys chuckled softly. “No need for that. Just make sure she doesn’t give us any more trouble tonight.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his attention back on Kaia as her breathing slowly evened out. “I’ll try my best,” he said quietly, knowing full well that with his daughter in his arms, everything would be fine.

As Kaia’s breathing evened out in Azriel’s arms, Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance. There was something so natural about the way Azriel cared for his daughter, the quiet tenderness that softened his usual stoic demeanour. It was a side of him they rarely saw, and it prompted Cassian to speak.

“You’re a damn good father, you know that?” Cassian said, his voice low so as not to wake Kaia.

Azriel glanced up from where he was rocking his daughter, his shadows curling faintly around her like a protective cocoon. “I’m just doing what she needs,” he replied quietly.

Rhys leaned against the doorframe, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you ever thought about having another?” he asked casually, though there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

Azriel’s hands stilled for a moment as he adjusted Kaia’s blanket. He looked down at his sleeping daughter, his expression unreadable. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted after a moment, his voice soft. “But… it’s not that simple.”

Cassian frowned slightly, leaning forward. “What do you mean? You and Y/N are incredible parents. I can’t imagine anyone better to handle another little shadow like her.”

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “Kaia’s birth wasn’t easy,” he began, his voice tight. “She came three months early. Y/N was… in bad shape. The healers weren’t sure if either of them would make it.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a grim look, the memory of those tense weeks flashing through their minds. Azriel had been a shadow of himself during that time—distraught, restless, and consumed by worry.

“I’ve never been so scared,” Azriel continued, his gaze distant as he gently stroked Kaia’s hair. “Holding her for the first time… it was the best and the worst moment of my life. I was terrified of losing her. Of losing Y/N.”

Rhys stepped closer, his tone softer now. “We remember,” he said. “You were in hell during those weeks. But look at her now, Az. She’s strong, just like her mother.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his fingers still brushing over Kaia’s curls. “I know. She’s my everything. But I don’t know if I could put Y/N through that again. The risk…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his voice steady. “It’s your decision, Az. No one can tell you what’s right for your family. But I can tell you this—whatever you and Y/N decide, you’ve got us. Always.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked back down at Kaia. “Thank you. I just… I want to give her everything. And I know Y/N would love another child. She’s mentioned it before.”

Rhys smiled knowingly. “She has. I’ve heard her tell Feyre how much she’d love to give Kaia a little brother or sister. But you’re right to consider the risks. It’s a decision you both need to make together.”

Azriel’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking his thoughts aloud for the first time. “Sometimes, I wonder if we’re meant to have just Kaia. She’s more than enough.” He paused, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “But then I think about what it would be like to hold another baby. To see Kaia as an older sister.”

Cassian grinned. “You’d kill it, Az. You’ve already proven that.”

Azriel’s smile grew as he looked down at Kaia, her tiny form peaceful in his arms. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s everything I need.”

Rhys and Cassian nodded, their respect for their brother deepened by his unwavering devotion to his family. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound, as Azriel held Kaia close, his love for her evident in every gentle movement.

-----

The bright sun filtered through the luxurious curtains of your room in the Day Court, casting golden streaks across the bed where you, Feyre, and Nesta lay tangled in a mess of pillows, blankets, and regret. The faint hum of distant birds outside did little to soothe the pounding in your head. You groaned as the sound of the door creaking open sent a sharp pulse through your temples.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Helion’s smooth, amused voice filled the room. “Or should I say, good evening? It’s already past two in the afternoon.”

A collective groan rose from the bed as Feyre buried her head under a pillow, Nesta flopped onto her stomach with a muffled curse, and you blinked blearily at Helion, who stood at the door with a smug grin and an air of smug satisfaction.

“Helion,” you croaked, your voice scratchy from the night before. “Why are you so loud?”

“Loud?” Helion placed a hand over his chest as if wounded. “I’m being positively gentle for a man who had to endure your drunken antics last night.”

Nesta peeked out from under her arm, her hair a disheveled halo around her head. “What antics?” she grumbled.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Helion leaned casually against the doorframe, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see… there was dancing on the tables, a rather heated debate about who had the best wingspan in Prythian—”

“Stop,” Feyre mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“And, of course,” Helion continued, ignoring her, “the grand declaration from you, Y/N, that you could outdrink me any day of the week.”

You winced, rubbing your temples as fragmented memories of the previous night began to resurface. “Did I win?”

Helion chuckled. “Let’s just say the three of you are lucky you’re still alive after the amount of wine you consumed.”

Nesta groaned, reaching blindly for the glass of water on the nightstand. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am,” Helion said, stepping fully into the room and crossing his arms. “It’s not every day I get to see the great Night Court ladies reduced to this state.”

“Why are you even here?” Feyre muttered, finally sitting up and squinting at him.

“To wake you,” Helion replied with a theatrical flourish. “You’ve slept the entire day away, and there’s an entire court waiting to be graced by your hungover presence.”

You flopped back onto the pillows, groaning. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Nor should you,” Helion said, his grin softening into something almost kind. “You had your fun, and now you’ll suffer for it. But, if it’s any consolation, I’ll have food sent up to help with the hangover. Consider it my charity for the day.”

Nesta muttered a quiet thanks as Feyre reached over to squeeze your hand. “We’re never drinking that much again,” she said firmly.

“You say that now,” Helion said with a smirk, already heading for the door. “But give it a week.”

As the door closed behind him, the three of you exchanged weary looks before collapsing back onto the bed, the promise of food and a quiet afternoon the only solace for your throbbing heads.

You groaned as you rubbed your temples, the pounding in your head relentless. “I miss being in my hundreds,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I could drink like this and wake up feeling fine. What happened to that?”

Feyre snorted, even though she winced at the sound of her own laugh. She was propped up against a mountain of pillows, her hair sticking up in every direction. “I don’t know if that’s age or just poor choices. And I hate that I can’t remember which.”

Nesta rolled over onto her back, staring at the ornate ceiling of the room. “What exactly did we even do last night? Helion mentioned dancing on tables, but I don’t remember that.”

“Neither do I,” Feyre admitted, frowning. “Though I do have a vague memory of someone challenging someone else to a drinking contest.”

“That sounds like me,” you groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “Why do I always do this? Every time I think, ‘Oh, I can keep up with Helion,’ and every time, I end up half-dead the next day.”

Nesta laughed softly, but it turned into a hiss of pain as she clutched her forehead. “Do you think he was exaggerating? Dancing on tables feels a bit dramatic.”

Feyre grimaced. “Honestly? Knowing us, probably not.”

You sat up slowly, squinting as the light streaming through the window hit you directly in the face. “What do we even do from here? How do we recover from whatever disaster last night was?”

Feyre shrugged weakly, resting her head on her hand. “Step one: figure out what we drank. Step two: never drink it again. Step three: try to piece together the chaos.”

Nesta sighed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “I’m not sure I want to know. If Helion’s smirk was any indication, we embarrassed ourselves.”

“Embarrassing myself in front of Helion isn’t even my biggest concern,” you muttered. “What if we made promises? Or said something incriminating? I don’t remember anything after, what, the third bottle of wine?”

Feyre groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I don’t remember anything past sitting in that sunroom. Did we even make it back to our rooms on our own?”

“Barely,” Nesta replied, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I vaguely remember Helion carrying someone. Was it you, Feyre?”

Feyre made a face. “Don’t remind me. I think he was laughing the whole time.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to push through the fog in your brain. “We need answers. But first, we need food. And maybe another century of sleep.”

Nesta smirked faintly, even through her hangover. “Agreed. But let’s make a pact: if Helion ever offers us another bottle of wine, we refuse.”

“Deal,” Feyre and you said in unison, though all three of you knew it was a promise unlikely to be kept.

You flopped back against the plush pillows, pulling a blanket over your face to block out the daylight streaming through the curtains. “Do you think they’re still alive?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the fabric.

Nesta let out a low chuckle, though it was tinged with exhaustion. She adjusted her position, settling deeper into the bed. “Depends. How long do you think it took for the chaos to start?”

“Five minutes,” Feyre guessed, her eyes already fluttering closed again. “Nyx probably started something with Cassian’s boys, and Kaia probably got into something she shouldn’t.”

You groaned softly, turning your head to the side. “Poor Az. He was probably up all night. Kaia doesn’t sleep well when everyone is not home.”

Nesta hummed in agreement. “If anyone can handle it, it’s him. Though Rhys and Cassian… I’m not so sure. The three of them together with the kids is a recipe for disaster.”

“Disaster,” Feyre murmured sleepily. “It’s probably already happening. But honestly? Not our problem right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, though the sound came out weak and tired. “They’ve got it covered. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.”

“Even if they don’t,” Nesta added, her voice already fading, “we earned this.”

The three of you sank deeper into the comfort of the bed, the soft hum of the Day Court’s tranquillity lulling you back to sleep. Whatever chaos might have been unfolding back at the Velaris could wait. For now, the thought of dealing with anything beyond your pounding heads was impossible.

-----

The next morning at the cabin, a thin blanket of snow coated the ground, shimmering in the sunlight. The boys had already left for camp, their excited chatter and stomping boots long gone, leaving a peaceful quiet in their wake. Outside, Rhys and Cassian stood with Azriel near the edge of the clearing, their breath visible in the crisp air as they discussed his upcoming trip to the Illyrian camp.

Kaia played nearby, bundled up in a tiny fur-lined coat, her small wings peeking out from the back. Her boots crunched in the snow as she toddled around, scooping up handfuls of powder and tossing them into the air with delighted giggles.

Azriel kept glancing toward her, his shadows hovering protectively nearby. His jaw was tight, his eyes flickering with hesitation. “I don’t like leaving her,” he said, his voice low.

“She’s going to be fine,” Rhys reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this. She adores us.”

Cassian grinned. “She’s got me to entertain her. What more could she need?”

Azriel shot him a flat look. “If she so much as cries, you’ll regret it.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “You worry too much. Go handle the camp situation, and we’ll make sure Kaia is happy and safe. Promise.”

Azriel let out a reluctant sigh, his gaze drifting back to Kaia. She had plopped down in the snow, her tiny hands patting together an uneven mound that was supposed to be a snowman. As if sensing her father’s attention, she looked up, her bright hazel eyes—so much like his—lighting up.

“Dada!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. Her wings flared slightly as she ran toward him, stumbling a little in the snow but determined to reach him.

Azriel crouched down just in time to catch her as she barreled into him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “What is it, love?” he asked softly, holding her close.

“No go, Dada!” she said, her voice muffled against his coat. “Stay wif me.”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he pulled back to look at her. “I’ll be back soon, Kaia. Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian will take care of you while I’m gone.”

Kaia’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “No like it,” she mumbled, her little hands clutching his shoulders.

Rhys stepped closer, crouching down beside them. “Kaia, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun. You’ll see.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him, her pout deepening. “No fun wif you. Too bossy.”

Cassian barked a laugh, earning a glare from Azriel. “She’s got you figured out already, Rhys.”

Azriel kissed the top of Kaia’s head, his lips lingering against her soft hair. “I’ll miss you too, my star,” he murmured. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Kaia sniffled, her small hands framing his face as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Miss you, Dada.”

He hugged her tightly one last time before standing, reluctantly placing her back on the ground. Kaia tugged on his coat, her hazel eyes wide with emotion. “Dada, hug ‘gain?”

Azriel smiled softly and knelt again, wrapping her in his arms for one more hug. “Always, Kaia,” he whispered.

Rhys finally stepped in, scooping Kaia up into his arms to distract her. “Come on, little star. Let’s go make some hot chocolate while Dada gets ready.”

Kaia clung to Rhys, watching over his shoulder as Azriel straightened and adjusted his coat. Her small hand waved frantically. “Bye, Dada! Wove you!”

“Love you too, Kaia,” Azriel called back, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest.

As he turned to leave, his shadows trailed after him, but his thoughts lingered on the tiny, determined girl who had stolen his heart.

As Azriel disappeared into the tree line, Kaia’s hazel eyes stayed glued to where he had been, her little face pouting in concentration. She wriggled in Rhysand’s arms, tugging at his collar.

“Uncle Rhysie,” she said, her toddler voice firm, “go lake now?”

Rhys glanced at Cassian, eyebrows raised. “The lake? Kaia, it’s cold out here. Don’t you want to go inside for some hot chocolate?”

Kaia shook her head vehemently, her curls bouncing around her face. “No choc’late. Lake!” She stretched her arms out dramatically, pointing toward the path that led to the frozen lake just beyond the cabin. “Pwease, Uncle Rhysie!”

Cassian chuckled as he leaned against the cabin’s railing, arms crossed. “She’s got her mind made up. You’re not winning this one.”

Kaia turned her big eyes on him. “Uncle Cassy, pwease? Wanna see da water.”

Cassian laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You mean the ice, kiddo. That lake’s frozen solid.”

Kaia tilted her head, her lips pursing in thought. “Ice pretty!”

Rhysand sighed dramatically, bouncing her slightly in his arms. “Fine. But we’re just looking, Kaia. No running, no touching the ice, and absolutely no going out on it. Got it?”

“Got it!” she chirped, her wings fluttering with excitement.

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You’re going to regret giving in, Rhys.”

Rhys shot him a playful glare. “If you’re so sure, you’re welcome to come supervise.”

Kaia clapped her hands, thrilled. “Uncle Cassy come too!”

Cassian groaned but grabbed his coat. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before you sweet-talk us into something even worse.”

Kaia giggled, wiggling out of Rhysand’s hold as soon as they reached the snow-covered path. She toddled ahead, her tiny boots crunching in the snow, her wings flaring for balance as she followed the trail to the lake.

Rhys jogged to keep up with her, shaking his head with a smile. “Kaia, you’ve got us wrapped around your little finger.”

She looked back at him, grinning cheekily. “Like Dada!”

Cassian laughed loudly, following behind them. “She’s not wrong!”

The three of them soon reached the lake, its surface gleaming with a layer of frost and ice. Kaia’s eyes widened in awe as she clapped her hands together. “So pwetty!”

Rhys and Cassian stood nearby, watching her as she crouched to inspect the snow around the edge, her little fingers brushing against it.

“She’s too much like Azriel,” Cassian muttered, smirking.

Rhys nodded, his expression soft. “She’s going to be a force to reckon with one day.”

Kaia looked up at them with a beaming smile, completely unaware of the pride and affection shining in their eyes.

Kaia’s hazel eyes lit up as a small brown rabbit darted across the snowy clearing near the edge of the lake. She gasped, her wings fluttering with excitement. “Bunny! Bunny!” she squealed, pointing at the little creature as it paused to twitch its nose.

Rhys chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched her. “Looks like she found a friend.”

Kaia crouched low, mimicking the rabbit’s position. Then, with a delighted giggle, she began hopping up and down in the snow, her boots barely leaving the ground. “Hop, hop, hop! Wike bunny!”

Cassian leaned against a nearby tree, laughing as Kaia’s curls bounced with each jump. “She’s got the hopping down, but she’s a little noisier than that rabbit.”

“Bunny hop!” Kaia shouted, flapping her tiny wings as she hopped again. Her balance wavered, and she landed on her bottom in the snow, but she quickly scrambled back up, undeterred. “Hop ‘gain!”

Rhys rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his grin. “You’re going to tire yourself out before lunch, Kaia.”

Kaia spun around to face him, shaking her head so vigorously her curls flopped side to side. “No tire! Hop more!” She crouched again, springing up with an exaggerated bounce. “Hop, hop, hop!”

The rabbit twitched its ears and scurried further away, disappearing into the trees. Kaia stopped, staring after it. “Bunny gone…” She pouted, her big hazel eyes turning to Rhys and Cassian.

Rhys crouched down, holding out his arms. “Come here, Kaia. The bunny went home, but you’re still our little hopper.”

Kaia toddled over to him, giggling as he scooped her up. She pressed her cold little nose to his cheek. “Rhysie hop too?”

Cassian snorted. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at Kaia. “How about Uncle Cassian hops instead?”

Kaia’s face lit up as she turned to Cassian, clapping her hands. “Uncle Cassy hop! Pwease!”

Cassian groaned, shaking his head. “You two are troublemakers.” But he pushed off the tree and gave a dramatic hop in place, earning a squeal of delight from Kaia.

“‘Gain! ‘Gain!” she cheered, bouncing in Rhys’s arms.

Cassian sighed, hopping a few more times before throwing his hands up. “That’s all you’re getting, little miss.”

Kaia giggled, leaning against Rhys’s shoulder with a content sigh. “Bunny hops fun…” she murmured, her energy finally waning as the excitement wore off.

Kaia squirmed in Rhysand’s arms, her wings flapping slightly as she pushed against his chest. “Down, Rhysie! Down!” she demanded, her tiny voice insistent.

Rhys tilted his head, giving her a mock-serious look. “You’re going to run off as soon as I put you down, aren’t you?”

Kaia giggled mischievously, avoiding his gaze. “Noooo…” she dragged out, not sounding convincing at all.

Cassian smirked, crossing his arms. “She’s got that look. You know the one Azriel has when he’s about to disappear into the shadows?”

Rhys sighed, setting her down gently on the snowy ground. “Alright, go ahead. But stay close, Kaia.”

As soon as her boots touched the snow, Kaia took off in a full toddler sprint, her little legs pumping furiously and her wings flapping for extra speed. She let out a triumphant squeal, her curls bouncing wildly as she bolted toward the edge of the clearing.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, already starting to jog.

Cassian burst into laughter, watching her waddle-run like her life depended on it. “She’s quick for someone so tiny!”

“Quick and reckless,” Rhys muttered, though his tone was full of amusement.

Kaia didn’t respond, too focused on her self-declared adventure. She ran in zigzags, her little boots crunching the snow as she tried to follow the faint tracks left by the rabbit from earlier.

Rhys finally caught up, scooping her up mid-run. She let out an indignant squeak, wriggling like a fish out of water. “No! Wanna run, Rhysie!”

Cassian joined them, laughing as he ruffled her curls. “That wasn’t running, Kaia. That was flying with your feet!”

Kaia pouted, folding her arms as Rhys settled her back against his chest. “Wanna fly…”

Cassian chuckled. “You’ll fly plenty when you’re older. For now, let’s stick to running in safe places, alright?”

Kaia sighed dramatically, her little shoulders slumping. “Okay… but next time, I win.”

Rhys exchanged a look with Cassian, both stifling their laughter at her determination.

Kaia began to wiggle in Rhysand’s arms, her tiny wings twitching as she pushed against his chest with her small hands. “Rhysie…” she whined softly, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a toddler who had been confined for too long.

Rhys adjusted his hold, pressing her back to him more securely. “Kaia, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not happening,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Kaia squirmed harder, her little feet kicking lightly against his sides. “Nooo! Down, pwease!” she pleaded, her hazel eyes glinting with frustration. She twisted, trying to look up at him with her best pout, her bottom lip sticking out dramatically.

Rhys sighed, shaking his head. “That look might work on Azriel, but not on me, little one.”

Cassian, walking a few steps ahead, turned around with a grin. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Rhys. She’s persistent—Azriel’s kid through and through.”

Kaia’s wings flapped again, and she leaned as far as she could to one side, trying to force Rhys’s grip to loosen. “No fair! Wanna down!” she declared, wriggling like a fish.

Rhys adjusted her again, tightening his hold slightly so she couldn’t slip away. “Kaia,” he said patiently, “the last time I let you down, you sprinted off like a wild rabbit. Do you think I’m going to fall for that again?”

Kaia’s brows furrowed as she huffed, blowing a small puff of air through her lips. “Pwease…” she tried again, softening her voice. When Rhys didn’t budge, she flopped her head dramatically against his chest. “Rhysie mean…” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Cassian laughed outright, shaking his head. “She’s got you pegged. Rhys, you’re officially ‘mean.’”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Cassian, smirking. “I can live with being mean if it means she’s safe. Nice try, though, Kaia.”

Kaia let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her little hands gripping Rhys’s shirt tightly. “Fine,” she muttered, though she squirmed once more for good measure before finally going limp in his arms, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this round.

Rhys kissed the top of her curly head, his amusement evident. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

Kaia grumbled softly under her breath, her head resting against him as she gave in to the temporary defeat, though the glint in her eyes promised she wasn’t done trying.

As the crisp winter breeze started to pick up, Cassian pulled his coat tighter around himself and glanced at Rhys, who was still holding a now-quiet but visibly restless Kaia. The snowflakes had begun to swirl in the air, carried by the increasingly sharp gusts of wind.

Rhys shifted Kaia in his arms, noticing how her small wings trembled slightly in the cold despite her thick coat and scarf. “The wind’s picking up,” he said, his tone laced with concern. “It’s probably time to head back. I don’t want her wings getting stiff or chilled.”

Cassian nodded in agreement, brushing snow off his shoulders. “Yeah, the cold up here isn’t great for her. Little Illyrians aren’t built for this until they’re older.” He glanced at Kaia, who was now nibbling on her mitten-covered fingers. “She’s a tough one, though. Already lasted longer than I expected.”

Rhys looked down at Kaia, her curly hair peeking out from beneath her hat. “What do you think, Kaia? Ready to go back to the warm cabin?”

Kaia scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “Nooo! Wanna pway!” she declared, her voice muffled slightly by her mittened hands.

Cassian chuckled, crouching slightly to her eye level. “Kiddo, as fun as it is out here, that wind’s going to get too strong for your wings. We’ll come back out tomorrow, okay?”

Kaia’s pout deepened, and she turned her head to bury her face against Rhys’s chest. “No wind! Stay!” she mumbled stubbornly.

Rhys sighed, his expression softening. “I know you don’t want to leave, but we have to think about keeping you safe, little one. I promise we’ll come back out when it’s warmer.”

Kaia peeked up at him, her hazel eyes filled with a mix of defiance and understanding. “Pwomise?”

“Promise,” Rhys replied firmly, brushing a stray curl from her face.

Cassian straightened up and stretched. “Alright, let’s get moving before the storm decides to really hit. I’m not looking forward to carrying a cranky Calen back from the camp if it comes to that.”

Kaia let out a small, resigned sigh, her wings drooping slightly as she gave in. “Okay…” she said softly, snuggling closer into Rhys for warmth.

As they turned to head back to the cabin, the wind picked up again, blowing snow around their boots. Rhys held Kaia securely, shielding her as much as possible from the chill. Cassian walked ahead, breaking the path through the snow, his laughter occasionally ringing out as he teased Rhys about his “clingy sidekick.”

By the time they reached the cabin, Kaia’s earlier stubbornness had melted into quiet contentment, her small body relaxed against Rhys. Once inside, the warmth of the fire greeted them, and Rhys carefully set Kaia down, helping her out of her snow-dusted coat.

“There we go,” Rhys said gently, crouching down to her level. “Safe and warm. What do you say we find something cozy to do inside?”

Kaia nodded, her earlier disappointment forgotten as she toddled toward the couch, where her favourite stuffed animal awaited. “Pway inside!” she declared, her wings giving a small, happy flutter.

Cassian grinned from the fireplace where he was stoking the flames. “There’s my brave little snow angel. Welcome back to the warmth, Kaia.”

She beamed at him, seemingly ready for her next adventure, even if it was indoors.

Kaia grabbed her favorite stuffed animal—a plush dragon with soft wings and a mischievous grin stitched onto its face—and clutched it tightly to her chest. Her small fingers gripped it as if it were her most prized possession.

Without warning, she bolted from the living room, her wings giving a tiny flutter as she launched herself into a toddler sprint. Her curls bounced with every step, and her laughter echoed through the cabin as her bare feet padded rapidly on the wooden floors.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Where are you going?”

Cassian turned from the fireplace, watching her dart out of sight. “Oh, no. She’s on the move again.”

Rhys pushed himself up from the couch, shaking his head. “She’s too fast for her own good. Did you see which room she went to?”

Cassian shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “No clue. She’s like a tiny shadow, just like her dad.”

Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t let her run loose in here. She’ll end up climbing something she shouldn’t.”

The two of them quickly started checking the rooms, opening doors and peeking inside. “Kaia?” Rhys called, his tone more playful now. “Where’d you go, little one? You can’t hide forever.”

Cassian poked his head into a small bedroom, scanning for the toddler. “Not here. I swear, she’s got Az’s stealth gene.”

A giggle echoed faintly from somewhere down the hall, followed by the soft thump of her tiny feet as she scampered further away.

“There!” Rhys pointed toward the end of the hallway. “She’s heading that way. Go left, I’ll go right.”

They split up, searching the cabin for the runaway toddler. Cassian checked the kitchen, glancing under the table and even in the pantry. Rhys peeked into another bedroom, opening the closet just in case she’d decided it was the perfect hiding spot.

Finally, they heard a faint creak from one of the rooms upstairs. Rhys looked at Cassian and raised an eyebrow. “Did she make it up there?”

“Apparently,” Cassian replied, already heading for the stairs. “We’re dealing with a master escape artist, clearly.”

As they climbed the stairs, they could hear her little voice singing softly to herself. When they reached the top, they found her sitting in the middle of a guest room, completely content as she played with her dragon toy.

“There you are,” Rhys said, his voice a mix of relief and amusement. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing, little miss?”

Kaia looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes, clutching her toy tightly. “No twouble,” she said with a small smile, her voice sweet and certain. “Kaia pway!”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid. Otherwise, you’d be in so much trouble.”

Kaia just giggled and went back to playing, clearly not concerned about her brief escape.

As Kaia stood up, her wings flared out slightly, her tiny feet eager to run again. The moment she started moving, Cassian rushed toward her, eager to catch her before she made another escape.

"Gotcha!" he said with a grin, reaching out to scoop her up. But in his haste, he didn’t quite grab her the way he intended. His hands landed too roughly around her waist, one brushing too close to her delicate wings.

Kaia let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing as pain shot through her. A tiny squeak of distress slipped past her lips, followed by a wail of pain as her wings flared involuntarily, stretching in response to the discomfort. The pressure around her wings made her feel trapped, causing her to cry out.

“Ah, Kaia—!” Cassian immediately froze, his face going pale as he realized what he’d done. He had been too quick, too careless. He quickly set her down gently, his hands trembling slightly as he checked her face for signs of further injury.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Cassian murmured, kneeling beside her as Kaia hiccupped between sobs, clutching her wings protectively. The pain was sharp but not enough to have caused any lasting harm, but it was enough to make her feel vulnerable and scared.

Kaia's little hands rubbed at the base of her wings where the pain had flared. She whimpered softly, her tears making her cheeks glisten. “It huwt...” she sniffled, her voice trembling.

Cassian’s heart dropped, and he looked over at Rhys, who had been standing nearby, watching in horror as the situation unfolded. Rhys stepped forward immediately, his expression full of concern.

“Kaia, sweet girl,” Rhys said softly, his voice soothing. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Cassian didn’t mean to hurt you, did he?”

Kaia looked up at him with big, tear-filled eyes, still rubbing her wings. “Huwts, Rhysie... wanna see mama...”

The sight of her in so much pain tugged at both of their hearts. Rhys quickly picked her up, cradling her carefully, his arms supporting her without touching her wings. He gently kissed her forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

Cassian stepped back, his face filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just wanted to stop her from running.”

“I know,” Rhys said, his tone gentle but firm. “Just... be more careful next time. Her wings are still delicate, Cass. Especially when she’s running around like that.”

Kaia nuzzled into Rhys’s shoulder, her crying slowly tapering off as she felt the comfort of being held. She looked at Cassian, a small frown on her face. “Kaia fwu... hurt...”

Cassian’s heart sank. “I’m really sorry, little one. Please forgive me.” His voice was soft, remorseful.

Rhys sighed, gently rocking her as he rubbed her back. “Let’s get you settled, little one. We’ll take care of those wings.”

Kaia nodded, her little hands still clutching Rhys’s shirt as she hiccupped softly. “Wings... hurt...” she mumbled again, sounding exhausted.

Cassian stood in the doorway, watching them carefully, promising to be gentler next time. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her, and in that moment, the weight of it hit him harder than ever.

Rhys watched as Cassian stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his expression pained. It was clear that the moment Kaia had cried out in pain had hit him harder than he'd expected. Cassian, usually full of energy and wit, now seemed small and weighed down by the guilt of his actions.

Rhys sighed, moving slowly towards him as he continued to hold Kaia gently. “Cassian,” he began softly, his voice more calm than usual. “It was an accident.”

Cassian didn’t meet his eyes at first, instead running a hand through his hair, his gaze still lingering on Kaia. He was chewing at his lip, clearly replaying the moment in his mind. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Rhys. You know that, right? I just... I didn’t think.”

Rhys stepped closer, now standing beside him, watching as Kaia snuggled further into his arms. She had already started to settle, though the trace of her tears was still visible on her little face.

“I know you didn’t,” Rhys said gently, his voice carrying a quiet authority, as if trying to ease the weight Cassian was carrying. “But you have to remember, her wings... they’re not like ours. They’re delicate, Cass. We all need to be careful when we’re handling her, especially with how young and fragile she is.”

Cassian swallowed hard, nodding slowly, his eyes still on Kaia. “I know... I just... I just wanted to stop her from running off again. She’s so fast, and I didn’t think.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “I really hurt her, Rhys. Look at her.”

Rhys glanced down at Kaia, who had fallen mostly silent now, resting against him, her little fingers still clinging to his shirt. The pain had faded, though she still seemed a bit shaken, her wings tucked close to her body for comfort.

“She’ll be okay, Cass,” Rhys reassured him. “You didn’t do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. I did it way more than once with Y/N.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure she’s taken care of. You don’t need to carry that guilt.”

Cassian finally met his eyes, his shoulders still heavy, but the tension in his face easing slightly. “I just... I don’t want to be the one who hurts her, Rhys. She’s just a little thing.”

Rhys smiled softly, understanding the weight of his words. “None of us want that. And we won’t let that happen. But you can’t beat yourself up over every little thing. Kaia knows you didn’t mean to hurt her.” He paused, giving Cassian a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re family, Cassian. We all look out for each other, especially for the little ones.”

Cassian nodded, his breath coming out in a slow exhale as he glanced down at Kaia once more. Rhys could see the relief start to seep in, even if only a little.

“She’s strong, Cass,” Rhys said with a slight chuckle. “And so are you. Just... be a little more careful next time, yeah?”

Cassian managed a weak smile, though his eyes still held that hint of guilt. “I will.”

As Rhys cradled Kaia, her big, teary eyes locked onto Cassian, who was still standing near the doorway, guilt written all over his face. Her tiny hands gripped at Rhys’s shirt for a moment before she reached one out toward Cassian, her lip trembling.

“C-Cassy?” she said softly, her toddler voice wobbly from leftover sniffles.

Cassian’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Kaia?” he asked gently, his voice breaking slightly.

She squirmed in Rhys’s arms, her little wings giving a faint twitch as she leaned toward Cassian. “Not mad?” she asked, her words barely a whisper, as though she feared the answer.

Cassian’s heart twisted painfully. He immediately stepped closer, holding his hands out toward her. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not mad at you. Never. I promise.”

Rhys, sensing the moment, carefully handed her over to Cassian. Kaia settled into his arms, her little fingers clutching at his shirt as she rested her head against his chest. “Cassy not mad,” she repeated softly, her voice muffled against him.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her securely, his hand instinctively going to her small back to avoid her wings. “No, Kaia. I’m not mad,” he said firmly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her dark hair. “I could never be mad at you. You’re my favourite little troublemaker.”

Kaia pulled back slightly, her wide, tearful eyes searching his face. “Pwomise?”

“I promise,” Cassian said, his voice full of warmth. “You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay?”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her tiny brows furrowing in a way that was so Azriel-like it made both Rhys and Cassian chuckle softly. Finally, she gave a small nod and snuggled back against his chest, her little wings twitching slightly as she calmed.

Rhys watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Looks like someone forgives you, Cass,” he teased lightly, though his tone held nothing but affection.

Cassian let out a relieved laugh, holding Kaia a little closer. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered, his hand gently brushing over her back.

Kaia, now more relaxed, let out a tiny yawn, her small hand patting Cassian’s chest as if reassuring him in return. “Cassy good,” she murmured sleepily, already starting to drift off.

Cassian’s chest tightened, his guilt easing as he held her close. “Yeah, Kaia,” he whispered. “You’re pretty good too.”

-----

The midday sun warmed the ornate balcony of the Day Court palace, casting soft golden light over the intricately carved table where you, Nesta, and Feyre sat. Plates of vibrant dishes—exotic fruits, fresh-baked bread, and delicately spiced meats—were spread out between gleaming goblets of water and pale wine.

Feyre leaned back in her chair, her golden-brown hair catching the sunlight as she sliced into a piece of honey-glazed pastry. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one sitting,” she admitted, her voice tinged with laughter. “Helion’s chefs are showing off.”

Nesta, sitting to her right, raised an eyebrow as she delicately sipped from her wineglass. Her steel-blue eyes scanned the table, unimpressed. “They certainly know how to lay out a feast,” she remarked dryly, spearing a slice of fruit with her fork. “But I wouldn’t call it showing off until they bring dessert.”

You smirked, stretching your arms over the back of your chair. “I don’t know, Nesta. I think it’s already better than anything we’ve had in Velaris,” you teased, popping a tart berry into your mouth.

Feyre gasped in mock offense. “Traitor,” she accused, pointing her fork at you.

You shrugged, grinning. “I’m just saying, when was the last time someone in Velaris served us peaches soaked in starlight syrup?” You gestured to the glittering dish at the centre of the table, its contents shimmering faintly.

Nesta chuckled, finally breaking a smile. “Fair point.”

The three of you fell into comfortable conversation, the light breeze carrying the faint scent of lavender and citrus from the gardens below. Feyre told a story about Nyx’s latest attempt to climb a tree, which had resulted in both him and the poor tree landing in a fountain. Nesta shared an amusing account of her struggles getting Calen, Torran, and Emrus to sit still during a family dinner.

“You know,” you said between bites of bread dipped in herbed oil, “this is the first time in months I’ve eaten a meal without having to cut it into tiny pieces for Kaia.”

Feyre laughed. “I remember those days,” she said, her expression softening. “It’s nice to have a moment for yourself, isn’t it?”

Nesta’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “If by ‘moment’ you mean a full day without anyone yelling or crying, then yes, it’s very nice.” She reached for another slice of bread, her tone lighter than usual.

As the meal went on, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—plans for the afternoon, teasing guesses about what chaos the men and children might be causing back at the cabin. Feyre tilted her head toward the sun, closing her eyes for a moment. “We should do this more often,” she said softly.

You and Nesta exchanged a glance, both nodding. “Agreed,” you said, raising your glass in a small toast.

“Next time,” Nesta added, a hint of mischief in her voice, “we’re going to make them pack us lunch before we leave.”

The three of you laughed, the sound mingling with the warm breeze as you leaned back in your chairs, savouring the rare peace and the perfect company.

Nesta was the first to break the silence, tilting her chair back slightly as she gazed out over the sprawling gardens below. “Do you think they’ve burned Velaris down yet?” she asked dryly, though her lips twitched in amusement.

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. “If they have, Nyx is probably the one who lit the match. That boy has a knack for trouble.”

You chuckled, swirling the last of your wine in your glass. “Kaia probably helped. She’s in that ‘curious about everything’ phase right now. If there’s a disaster, she’s either in the middle of it or watching with fascination.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?” She shot a pointed look at Feyre, who rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Oh, don’t start,” Feyre said, tossing a grape at her sister, which Nesta effortlessly caught. “Besides, I distinctly remember you setting Father’s study on fire when you were ten.”

“That was an accident,” Nesta replied coolly, though the faintest hint of pink crept up her neck. “I was trying to read by candlelight.”

You laughed, the sound ringing out over the balcony. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

A soft knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, and you all turned to see Helion leaning against the doorway, his ever-present grin firmly in place. “Ladies,” he greeted, sweeping into the room with the grace of a predator. “Still lounging about, I see.”

“Helion,” you said, sitting up straighter but not bothering to hide your smirk. “Here to check if we’ve completely drained your wine reserves?”

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Perish the thought. Though I must say, it’s almost three in the afternoon, and you’re still in your nightclothes.” He tsked playfully. “I expected more from such esteemed warriors.”

Nesta glared at him, though it lacked her usual bite. “I’ve had three children. Let me have my moment.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Seconded.”

Helion laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Far be it from me to argue with such formidable women.” He pulled out a chair, sitting with the ease of someone completely at home. “Though I must admit, I’m curious—what exactly did you three get up to last night? The palace staff have been whispering about it all morning.”

The three of you exchanged glances, trying to piece together the hazy memories of the previous night. Feyre groaned, pressing a hand to her temple. “I think we were… gossiping? And then someone brought out another bottle of wine, and after that…”

Nesta shook her head. “Don’t ask me. The last thing I remember is laughing so hard I fell out of my chair.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it was nothing Helion hasn’t seen before.”

Helion’s grin widened. “True, though I must say, it’s a shame I wasn’t invited. It sounds like it was quite the spectacle.”

“Next time, Helion,” you promised, raising your glass. “Next time.”

-----

Cassian crouched down in front of Kaia, holding out her little boots as she stomped her tiny feet on the floor, giggling. “Okay, little troublemaker,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “One foot in, then the other. Let’s get you bundled up before you drag us all into the snow again.”

Kaia, her brown eyes sparkling like Azriel’s, lifted her foot and immediately pulled it back, wiggling her toes with a mischievous grin. “Nooooo! Tickles!” she squeaked, collapsing into giggles.

Rhys chuckled from where he stood by the door, holding Kaia’s tiny, fur-lined coat. “Cass, you’ve been outsmarted by a two-year-old. Again.”

“Don’t start, Rhys,” Cassian grumbled, finally managing to slip Kaia’s foot into the boot. “You’re not exactly winning any points, standing over there like a statue.”

Kaia’s laughter softened as she noticed Cassian’s focus on her. She reached out with her small hands, patting his face lightly. “Cassy not mad?” she asked in her soft toddler voice, her brow furrowing.

Cassian paused, his expression melting as he met her gaze. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. Never at you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice low. “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier, okay? I’ll be more careful.”

Kaia tilted her head, studying him intently before giving him a big, toothy grin. “Cassy funny!” she declared, breaking into another fit of giggles as she patted his cheek again.

Rhys snorted, walking over with her coat. “At least she forgives you.” He crouched down, draping the coat around her tiny shoulders and fastening the buttons. Kaia squirmed a little but eventually settled, her eyes darting between the two men. “There we go,” Rhys said, standing and brushing his hands off. “One very bundled-up little girl.”

Cassian stood, scooping her up into his arms before she could make a break for the door. “And where do you think you’re taking us this time, hmm?”

Kaia pointed a tiny finger toward the door. “Snow! Big snow! Wanna find bunnies!”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Bunnies? I thought we were making snow angels.”

Kaia shook her head so hard her little curls bounced. “Bunnies first, then ‘angels. Then—” She paused, her toddler mind clearly working overtime. “Then cookies!”

Cassian laughed, adjusting her on his hip as he grabbed her scarf. “You’ve got your priorities straight, kid. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

As they stepped toward the door, Kaia leaned toward Rhys, reaching for him with her little arms. “Rhysie, carry!” she demanded.

Rhys raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You’re the boss.” He took her from Cassian, settling her against his chest. She immediately grabbed at the edge of his scarf, tugging it playfully.

Cassian shook his head, pulling his own coat on. “She’s got us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” Rhys agreed, smiling down at Kaia as she babbled excitedly about the snow. “But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As they trudged through the snow toward the base of the hill, Rhys adjusted his grip on Kaia, who was leaning forward with wide eyes, staring at the glittering blanket of white that stretched in every direction. Cassian followed close behind, his boots crunching through the icy crust, while they chatted about the boys’ training schedules.

Just as they were about to begin the climb, a figure appeared in the distance, running toward them with urgency. Rhys narrowed his eyes and held up a hand to pause their ascent. Cassian stepped forward slightly, his posture straightening, while Kaia, oblivious to the shift in mood, reached up and tugged on Rhys’s collar.

“Rhysie,” she said in her sing-song toddler voice, poking at his jawline with her little fingers. “Down! Wanna walk!”

Rhys glanced down at her, hesitating for a moment. “All right, but don’t wander too far, Kaia,” he warned, crouching to set her gently on the ground. “Stay where we can see you.”

Kaia nodded earnestly, her curls bouncing, and immediately began toddling through the snow. She hummed to herself as she went, her tiny boots leaving uneven prints in the powder as she stomped in circles.

The messenger reached them then, panting heavily. He was dressed in standard Illyrian gear, his wings visibly trembling from the strain of his journey. “My lord,” the man said, addressing Rhysand with a quick bow. “There’s trouble at the nearest camp—an argument has broken out over land disputes, and tempers are flaring dangerously. They’re requesting immediate intervention.”

Rhys frowned deeply, exchanging a look with Cassian. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that there’s been a physical altercation,” the messenger admitted, his expression tight. “We fear it may escalate further if someone of authority doesn’t step in.”

Cassian let out a low sigh, his breath misting in the cold air. “Sounds like we’ll need to head out sooner than planned.”

Rhys nodded grimly. “Agreed. Azriel’s already at another camp, so it’s on us.”

As the two began discussing the logistics of leaving the cabin to address the issue, Kaia wandered further from them, her tiny hands outstretched as she admired the way the snowflakes melted on her palms. She crouched near a patch of untouched snow, giggling softly to herself as she poked at the white expanse.

Neither Rhys nor Cassian noticed her subtle movements. Their focus remained on the messenger and their impromptu planning. Cassian suggested a strategy, while Rhys debated whether or not to inform Azriel of the situation immediately.

Kaia, meanwhile, had spotted a small cluster of icicles hanging low from a nearby tree branch. With the stubborn determination of a toddler, she began toddling toward it, her steps uneven but deliberate. The cold breeze tugged at her scarf, but she paid it no mind, too enthralled by her frosty discovery.

It wasn’t until the messenger left and Rhys turned back to continue their walk that he noticed Kaia wasn’t where he had last seen her. “Kaia?” he called, his voice calm but sharp enough to draw Cassian’s attention.

Cassian turned, his brows furrowing as he scanned the area. “Where’d she go?”

Rhys’s heart sank as he realized they had been so caught up in the conversation that they’d let her slip from their sight. “Kaia!” he called again, louder this time, his tone more urgent as his eyes darted around the snowy landscape.

Rhysand’s voice cut sharply through the crisp winter air. “Kaia! Come back here, sweetheart!” His violet eyes scanned the snow-covered ground, seeking the trail of her tiny boot prints.

Cassian immediately joined in, his deep voice echoing across the empty expanse. “Kaia! Where are you, little one?!” His tone was firm but edged with worry.

They both moved quickly, their heads swiveling as they searched for any sign of her. Cassian crouched briefly, studying the snow for fresh tracks, but the crisscrossing prints from earlier in the day made it hard to distinguish hers.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” Rhys muttered, though his tone betrayed his growing concern.

“She’s quick for her size,” Cassian replied, his brows knitting together. His hands flexed at his sides, and he cursed under his breath. “We shouldn’t have let her wander.”

“Kaia!” Rhys called again, his voice carrying more urgency now. The calm façade he usually maintained was slipping.

The biting wind whipped past them as they moved further from the hill, scanning between the trees and behind snowdrifts. Rhys’s shadows began darting out instinctively, swirling and stretching in every direction to assist in the search.

“Kaia, come on, baby!” Cassian called, his tone softening despite the edge of panic. “Where are you?”

A faint rustling noise reached their ears, and Rhys’s head snapped toward it, but it was only the wind shaking a low-hanging branch. His jaw clenched.

“She’s too small to be out here alone,” Cassian muttered, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward a line of bushes. “We need to find her now, Rhys.”

“I know,” Rhys snapped, his calm veneer cracking entirely. He lifted his hand, sending his shadows farther into the surrounding forest. “Kaia! Answer me, sweetheart!”

The silence that followed was deafening, save for the crunch of their boots and the occasional gust of wind.

Cassian straightened, his chest rising and falling heavily. “She wouldn’t just wander into the trees, would she?”

“She’s curious, Cass,” Rhys replied tersely. “If she saw something interesting, she might have.”

The thought made his stomach churn. Rhys lifted his chin and released another shout. “Kaia! Come back to us!”

The echoes of their voices faded into the vast, snowy landscape, and for the first time, a genuine pang of fear struck Rhys’s chest. They couldn’t lose her—not here, not now.

-----

Kaia’s tiny boots crunched softly against the snow as she followed the hopping bunny deeper into the woods. Her wide hazel eyes, so much like her father’s, sparkled with excitement. She giggled, toddling after the small creature, her chubby hands outstretched as if she could grab it.

“Bun-bun!” she squealed, her toddler speech barely forming the words. “Wait! No hop—stay!”

The bunny stopped briefly, its nose twitching as it turned to look at her, then bounded further into the trees. Kaia puffed out a little breath of frustration, her wings fluttering slightly as she continued her pursuit.

“Kaia get you!” she declared determinedly, stumbling slightly over a hidden root before regaining her balance. The cold nipped at her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink, but she didn’t seem to notice.

The trees began to close in around her, their branches forming a canopy that blocked some of the afternoon light. Kaia didn’t mind; she was too focused on her game.

The bunny paused again, just ahead, and Kaia crouched as if mimicking the creature. “Hi, bun-bun!” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and awe.

When it hopped away again, she gasped, jumping to her feet. “Nooo! Come back! Pwease!”

She stumbled after it, her tiny wings flaring with the effort of trying to catch up. The ground was uneven, and though she tripped here and there, Kaia was relentless.

A cold breeze blew through the forest, ruffling her dark curls, but she was too enthralled by the bunny to notice the growing distance between her and the hill where her uncles were.

As the bunny disappeared behind a larger snowdrift, Kaia slowed, her little legs tiring. She looked around for it, turning in circles.

“Bun-bun?” she called softly, her voice trembling slightly. The forest suddenly seemed bigger, quieter. The playful giggles she had carried moments ago were gone.

She shivered, her small hands wrapping around herself. “Kaia find you…” she mumbled, her voice unsure now.

But the bunny was nowhere to be seen. The woods were silent, except for the faint whistle of the wind, and Kaia’s tiny face scrunched in confusion. For the first time, she realized she couldn’t see her uncles anymore.

“Uncle Cassy?” she called, turning toward where she thought the hill had been. “Rhysie?”

When no answer came, her lower lip trembled. She clutched the little stuffed animal she’d carried with her, holding it close to her chest.

“Dada?” she tried, her small voice barely above a whisper. The towering trees around her felt suddenly much larger, and the cold began to seep in through her thick coat.

Kaia sniffled, her brave pursuit of the bunny forgotten. “Kaia… cold…” she whispered, tears beginning to well in her big, hazel eyes.

Kaia wiped her little face with the back of her mitten, sniffling as she shuffled through the snow. Her tiny boots sank with each step, but she was determined to keep moving. In her toddler mind, staying still wasn’t an option.

She clutched her stuffed toy tighter, the familiar softness bringing a small sense of comfort. “Bun-bun?” she murmured again, her voice quivering. “Kaia find… Kaia not scared…”

Her small wings fluttered uselessly against her back, a reflex whenever she felt nervous. The forest seemed darker now, the trees casting long shadows that danced in the fading light....

And sadly for Kaia a forest is not a safe place for a child whose father has many enemies.....

Part 3

[idkyetxoxo]

One | The Calm Before the Storm | Little Star

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.9k

Warnings - None

|| series masterlist || next ->

The Night Court's favourite star. The one they all forgot could fall.

The last-born daughter of the late High Lord and his Illyrian wife. Half-Fae, half-winged. Pure chaos and twilight wrapped in violet silk.

They liked to call me the Night Court's coveted jewel, a title heavy with worship, draped over my shoulders like a crown spun from stars.

Whispers echoed through the streets of Velaris, the dark halls of the Court of Nightmares and all the way to the frozen edges of the continent. They spoke of the beauty that outshone starlight, of the smile that could tempt saints and the gaze that could ensnare sinners.

Rhysand might have been the most beautiful male in Prythian—darkness personified, with eyes that held galaxies, but beside him, I was something else entirely.

Not merely beautiful. Mythic. Dangerous. A living echo of the Court itself. Dreams and nightmares all at once.

The kind of beauty you bled for. The kind of beauty that haunted you.

A living contradiction, soft but sharp, beloved but untouchable. The brightness in the dark.

I wasn't a warrior like Cassian, forged in flame and fury. I wasn't a spymaster like Azriel, silent and deadly as the dark. I wasn't a ruler like Rhys, with the weight of a kingdom carved into his spine.

I was something else.

The princess of the Night Court, cloaked in starlight and a dozen kinds of devotion I never asked for. The female they praised, the female they protected, the female they thought would never shatter.

And yet—even stars fall.

Tonight, the townhouse swelled with warmth and life. Laughter spilt out of the kitchen like sunlight through broken, gold-stained glass.

The scent of wine, spiced meat, sweet fruit and freshly baked bread curled through the air, clinging to the velvet drapes and polished wood with familiar affection.

It was the kind of night that felt like home.

I sat curled into the corner of the couch, the plush cushions swallowing me whole.

One hand cradled a half-full glass of wine, the other was buried in the folds of my gown, fingers idly twisting silk. My bare feet were tucked beneath me, warmed by the firelight that flickered soft and amber across the room.

Cassian and Rhys were in the center of the room, lost in what had begun as a disagreement about battle formations until Cassian, with that infuriating smile on his face, had made a snide comment about Rhys's "groomed-to-death" hair.

Now the conversation had devolved into a dramatic, absolutely senseless argument over whose hair possessed more sheen, complete with overly serious tone and infuriatingly mocking gestures.

Typical.

I smiled behind the rim of my glass, letting the noise of them wash over me, a chorus of ridiculousness I'd grown to love over the years.

A familiar weight dipped the cushions beside me, unhurried and sure.

I didn't need to look to know who it was. I knew. I always knew. His presence sang along my skin before he ever spoke, before I could even breathe him in.

Shadows brushed against my arm, soft as a sigh, cold as the space between stars. The same shadows that clung to him like second skin, like sorrow.

A crown of darkness that only a handful saw.

The scent of him wrapped around me, grounding and ghostly all at once. Crisp mountain air, steel, worn leather, and something older, something aching. Something like night.

"Azriel," I murmured, turning just enough to lift my glass toward him. Our eyes met briefly, and the clink of crystal between us felt almost sacred. "Looking well."

He didn't smile, not quite, but something in his expression softened, the way the snow does when kissed by the first light of spring.

His voice was low when he spoke, barely a breath meant for me. "You burn so bright, little star."

His scarred fingers found the edge of my gown, smoothing the silk with reverence, with memory. Violet silk. The colour of twilight. The mirror of my eyes.

His touch was not possessive—it was almost...mournful.

"Careful, Shadowsinger," I replied without looking at him. "You'll go blind."

Dismissal, subtle and practised but not unnoticed. Not by him. Never by him.

His shadows shifted, restless, curling around my forearms like smoke, like secrets, like longing held too long inside a war-forged heart. They tightened then loosened, as if arguing about whether to cling or to let go.

A dance, initiated but incomplete. A tale, told but unfinished.

Azriel wanted me. That truth lived in every glance that lingered too long, in every word he didn't say. In the aching silence between us.

He wanted me with the quiet desperation of a man who believed the things he longed for were meant only for others. A hunger contained behind a wall built of guilt and time.

And I... I loved him in another life.

One where I wasn't the court's darling or its symbol. One where I wasn't stitched into so many roles, caught between myth and reality.

But this wasn't that life.

There was a beauty in what we shared now, this unspoken understanding between us.

It was raw, real, and filled with the quiet intimacy of a thousand unspoken words.

I didn't want to spoil it by crossing that line. I didn't want to turn it into something messy, something that might break.

If we reached for more, we might lose everything we have, and the thought of that makes me hesitate.

Maybe we were better as we were. Unfinished, untamed, but still whole.

"Little star!" Cassian's voice sliced clean through the delicate tension between me and Azriel.

It rang out across the room, loud and unapologetic, crashing through the quiet like a war cry softened by affection.

He stood near the fireplace, grinning like the chaos incarnate he was, that same wicked grin that had once gotten us both thrown out of a palace in Adriata—twice.

He beckoned me over with a cocked brow and a flash of teeth, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes.

I rose without hesitation, slipping from Azriel's orbit. His shadows lingered on my skin like fingerprints, invisible but undeniable.

I didn't need to look back to know he was watching me go. He always did.

I crossed the room, each step echoing with the clink of glass and the low hum of firelight and fondness.

I perched myself on the armrest of Amren's chair, deliberately casual. The ancient, irritable being narrowed her silver eyes at me, then, shockingly, didn't shove me off. A small victory.

I gave her a wink like I'd just stolen a secret, and for a breath, I thought she might smile. She didn't, of course but it was worth a try.

"You agree with me, don't you?" Cassian asked, dramatically gesturing toward Rhys, who looked thoroughly exasperated.

I took a slow sip of my wine, letting them stew. "I think," I said at last, tilting my head with studied elegance, "neither of you has the best hair in this court."

Two simultaneous, theatrical gasps filled the room. You'd think I'd slapped them both.

"It's clearly Mor," I added with a wicked smile, swirling the wine in my glass as Rhys recoiled like I'd stabbed him through the heart. "She doesn't even try. It just is."

"My hair shimmers," Rhys argued, scandalised before running a hand through his onyx waves.

Cassian snorted. "You glamor it, you narcissist."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Cass," Rhys replied smoothly.

Their banter spiralled, insults laced with affection and long-forged trust, the kind of exchange only born of decades spent bleeding and laughing together.

I leaned into the rhythm of it easily, letting the warmth of the room, the wine and their voices settle into my bones.

I hid my grin at their ridiculousness behind the rim of my glass, the crystal cool against my lips.

Rhys saw it anyway, of course he did. His violet eyes met mine, glittering with humour, and he winked. That knowing, over-the-top wink he always used when he was being absurd. When he wanted to draw a laugh out of me.

Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful male in Prythian. A tactician, a warrior, a manipulator with a silver tongue and a heart full of stars.

To everyone else, he was legend.

To me, he was something far more sacred.

My brother. My anchor. The one who held me when the sky cracked and the world tilted sideways. My protector, my partner-in-crime, my first home.

"Both of you should shut up," Amren muttered, not bothering to look up. Her voice, dry as bone dust, cut through the bickering like a blade honed on centuries of disdain.

She swirled the contents of her cup with precision, as if the drink itself had insulted her.

I grinned and blew her a kiss. She didn't flinch. Didn't hiss. Didn't even glare. Which, for Amren, was practically a declaration of undying affection. A non-response was her version of a hug.

She'd told me once, over a glass of something blood-red, that I was "less annoying than the rest." Which, in her ancient, mildly terrifying dialect, translated roughly to "I'd kill for you, but don't make me say it out loud."

"I agree," came Mor's voice, smooth and bright as sunlight slipping through stained glass.

She strode into the room like she owned it. Confidence radiated off her in golden waves, her honey-blonde hair tousled from wind, cheeks flushed, smile loose and easy.

Mor and I had a special bond.

We spoke the same unspoken language, the one of hidden battles beneath painted smiles. Of quiet strength disguised as flirtation. Of wearing beauty like armour and never apologising for it.

In her hands, she carried a plate still steaming with warmth. Brownies. Dense and gooey in the middle, their scent curling through the room like a spell.

She waved them like a blessing, like an invitation to sin.

Cassian, predictably, lunged like a beast unleashed. He tackled her with all the grace of a war general who had absolutely no chill, snatching three brownies before she could elbow him hard enough to make him grunt.

"These are amazing," he declared through a mouthful, already crumbs on his chest.

Rhys, ever elegant, took one with a flourish, raising it in salute. "This is why I keep you around."

I rolled my eyes as I stole the plate from his hands, swirling my wine with mock offence.

With the brownies secured, I turned on my heel and made my way back to the shadows—back to him.

Azriel didn't move, but I felt the shift in the air before I even reached him. His shadows stirred, rippling like smoke disturbed by a breath. Coiled tension then slow release.

Like they recognised me as something safe.

"I baked your favourite, Az," I said softly, offering the plate like a peace treaty. I added a wink, light as moonlight, as if it meant nothing at all.

A faint blush crept up his neck as he accepted them, his mouth parting like he might say something soft or something dangerous.

Before he could speak Mor hooked an arm around my waist and yanked me down into her lap with a grin.

"We keep her around because she's the better-looking sibling," she said, popping a brownie into her mouth.

I sighed dramatically, resting my head against her shoulder as I balanced the plate between us. "Here I thought it was because you all liked me."

Laughter echoed around the room as conversations sparked back up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Azriel watching me, just a flicker, a glance quickly masked by the shadows curling at his shoulders.

But it was enough. Enough to stir memories best left undisturbed.

The fire crackled, but my mind had drifted back to a different night—a night long ago, in the days when we were all children, before shadows had claimed so much of Azriel.

I could still picture it clearly, Cassian and Rhys, so much younger, rushing through the front door, their footsteps loud against the polished floors.

"What is it?" My mother's voice had been full of that special kind of warmth she reserved for her children, her tone soft yet firm.

I had, of course, been sitting on the stairs, pretending not to listen, but eager to know who they'd brought home.

It was Azriel.

I'd never seen anyone like him before, his figure, tall for his age, standing awkwardly in the doorway, a stranger in a world that didn't quite feel like it belonged to him.

His face was barely visible beneath the dark cloak that swallowed him whole, but I remember the flicker of shadows that clung to him.

I could sense it even then. His isolation. His silence.

Rhys had been the first to speak, always the one to smooth over awkwardness. "This is Azriel," he said, an easy grin on his face. "We found him."

Cassian had clapped him on the back, laughing, "Don't mind him, he's a bit shy."

Azriel hadn't said anything at first, just staring at us with those eyes that held so much unsaid.

And then I noticed them—his hands. Bandaged. Thick layers of cloth wrapped tightly around his fingers, hiding whatever scars lay beneath.

I hadn't been able to help myself. I had asked, a child's curiosity mixed with concern.

"Why are your hands wrapped?"

Azriel had hesitated. His voice had been low and careful, like he was testing how much to trust us, how much to give away.

"I got hurt," he had murmured, his eyes flickering to the floor, avoiding my gaze.

In that moment, a strange urge had filled me. I don't know why. Maybe it was the way the shadows seemed to coil around him, or maybe it was the vulnerability in his words, in his attempt to mask the pain.

But I had stood, gone to him, and cupped his hands gently in mine, the coolness of the bandages contrasting sharply against my skin.

And I kissed them. His hands.

It wasn't a grand gesture, nor was it filled with any deeper meaning, but in that simple moment, a thread had tied us together—one that neither of us had fully understood at the time.

It had been a fleeting touch, my lips brushing against the cloth, soft as a whisper.

But Azriel had looked at me then, really looked at me and something in his eyes shifted.

Something deeper, something older than the boy he had been. He hadn't pulled away. Instead, he had let me hold his hands for a long moment, and I had felt his quiet decision, even then.

He had silently made a promise to himself that he would always protect me, would always be there, even if he couldn't voice it.

From that moment on, something had always been different between us. He'd become a part of our family in a way that words couldn't explain.

The shadows never left him, and neither did the weight of that silent vow.

I shook the memory from my mind.

I glanced at him briefly, catching his gaze again for the briefest second before he turned away, as though nothing had ever passed between us. But I knew. I always knew.

I wonder if he remembered it too—the day his heart had made its silent, reluctant choice.

Mor, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaned over toward me, her voice a soft hum in my ear, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Rita's?" she asked, as if the very mention of the place was a secret invitation only I could understand.

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Really? After all this?"

Her grin widened, her eyes flicking over to the others.

Cassian slapped a hand over his heart in mock offence, his voice a bit too dramatic to be taken seriously. "I'm offended that you would even ask. Of course, we're going. Right, Rhys?"

Rhys, who had been watching the exchange with that calculating glimmer in his violet eyes, nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me."

Amren, who had been quietly watching the banter unfold with the patience of someone who'd seen it all before, shot them both a sharp glance.

Her silver eyes narrowed, her lips curling into the faintest of sneers.

"I'll pass," she said, the cold finality in her voice making it clear that there would be no further discussion on the matter.

The room fell into a brief, almost reverent silence. No one argued with Amren. Not now, not ever.

Mor didn't miss a beat. She shot a wink at the others and then turned her eyes to me. "Well, little star?" she said, leaning in, a playful dare in her tone. "Are you coming, or are you going to stay here, all wrapped up in your little corner?"

I glanced at Azriel, he was now leaning against the wall, his gaze distant but somehow still fixed on me. The faintest trace of tension hung between us, a silent conversation in the way his shadows curled around his body, as if waiting for my response.

I didn't hesitate. My voice was steady, unwavering when I spoke. "Yes, I'll go."

Azriel's head lifted further at the sound of my voice, and there was a flash of something in his eyes—almost relief, though it was gone too quickly for me to read.

Then, as if he were still battling with something unspoken, he took a slow step forward, his shadows drifting like smoke around his feet.

"I'll go too," he said softly, his voice a quiet thread of acceptance.

There was no more resistance. No more hesitation.

Rhys clapped his hands together in glee. "Well, that settles it."

Mor whooped and sprang to her feet, tugging me up with her. Cassian threw an arm around both our shoulders as he steered us toward the door, already launching into some ridiculous plan that involved absolutely no supervision.

Laughter bubbled up again, easy, warm and filling every corner of the room until it felt like the house itself was breathing with it.

Behind us, the door swung shut with a soft click, sealing away the last echoes of that golden evening, like a memory we were already beginning to lose.

A/n - Okay, first chapter is finally here! I wanted to start with a little intro to everyone's dynamics, and then a memory of the first time Azriel and reader met, just to give a bit of an explanation to their relationship.

Next chapter is where the real story starts, and it gets good, trust me (lots of angst), and I love angst x

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please let me know. I’m a little nervous since this is my first time writing for ACOTAR (please don’t be shy to like, comment, or reblog!) <3

Little Star tag list - @jaybbygrl @writtenbypavani @fall-winter-heart97 @coeurdeveea @lilg101010 @krazykangaroo712 @moonlitlavenders @lil-lupa @jasmineee05 @pinksnowtiger @yourdarkrose

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 3

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What happened after Eris and reader were caught fooling around at the House of Wind?

Part 1 (Drabble) Part 2 Part 4

Warnings: sexual content, language, alcohol

One would have thought we were in the Winter Court, or perhaps an iced over Hel by the chill that took over the balcony.

My father’s mask of icy rage appeared less as a mask and more as a permanent fixation plastered on at the sight of Eris standing so closely to me. Uncle Rhys stared vacantly, with a slight hint of indifference masking his own face. Surely he was communicating with someone. Aunt Feyre? My father? Who knows.

It was my mother who let out a gasp, placing a hand over her chest. Her face glazed over as she spoke out to nobody in particular.

“The burning flame drives away the wild shadow.”

Whatever the hel THAT meant.

Well, whatever the hel it did mean clearly upset my mother as her eyes lined with silver, looking between Eris and I.

My father clenched his fists, beginning to launch forward in a stance promising violence against Eris.

Before I could scream at him to stop, Rhys shot out his power, instantly placating my father. Once again eliciting a gasp from my mother.

Eris stood still. A smirk plastered on his face. Whether that be his own mask or true amusement at the chaos unfolding around - I didn’t know. While my more sensible side should have taken over, heat warmed my insides at the sight of that amused gleam in his eyes, the tilted corner of his mouth. So fucking hot.

Between the chaos of Rhys trying to settle my father, my gawking at Eris in all his - well, just HIM in general - nobody noticed the palpable rage emanating from Lucien. While my mother chose my father over him, and Lucien and Vassa were living in marital bliss, the bond between mother and Luc was merely rejected and not broken. They had deemed it too much of a risk to face the effects of a broken bond and were able to become friends over the years. Clearly, Lucien was feeling whatever my mother had inadvertently cast through their barely in tact bond - as the mating instinct kicked in.

One moment, Lucien stood with a muscle ticking in his jaw, the next he’d winnowed in front of Eris in a whirl of fists, and feet, and flame.

Nobody dared intervene in the battle between a High Lord and another High Lord’s heir - a fight that certainly would have ramifications if it weren’t for the fact that the two were brothers who did care for eachother in their own messed up way.

My father stood, arms crossed, expression clouded with rage - though a slight gleam of satisfaction shone in his eyes at the sight of Eris getting his ass kicked - but mostly, it was icy rage showing there. He should be the one dueling it out with the male who triggered my mother’s upset, fucked his daughter, and that he just all around couldn’t stand anyway. If it wasn’t for Uncle Rhys ordering him otherwise, he would be joining in against Eris.

Fortunately, Eris was holding his own as he and Lucien landed blows to eachother at the same time. Eris wouldn’t have stood a chance against both my father and Lucien.

Lucien could be heard over the tangle shouting “You fucked my mate’s daughter!?”

Eris only chuckled as he continued pummeling his brother.

At that, Vassa who had stepped onto the balcony soon after Lucien had winnowed in, rolled her eyes mumbling something about needing another drink before walking over to Elain and extending an arm. Father, of course, was too busy glaring at the brawl before him - his shadows hissing with rage - to notice as the females exited the balcony together.

The two males began throwing sloppier hits, breathing heavier, flames simmering as they wore themselves down. It was Helion who finally burst onto the balcony using a powerful voice, the commanding voice of a High Lord, “Enough! Both of you!” sending a flare of power he cleaved the two apart, surrounding each with a shield that they couldn’t break out of.

Eris crossed his arms, taking a casual stance that oozed arrogance.

Lucien stood straight, eyes shooting daggers at his brother.

Helion approached me saying, “Come Y/N, you’ve seen enough of this idiocy.” and escorted me from the balcony. Leaving only my father, Rhys, Lucien, and Eris remaining. Helion turned back toward the males before stepping inside stating “the wards stay up until everyone can settle.”

I looked back to Eris with a wink. He only smirked back with feline amusement. He clearly had no regrets - and honestly, I couldn’t find it in myself to regret anything either.

Helion escorted me to one of the open bars, signaled for two shots of amber liquor. The barkeep worked remarkably quick as two glasses appeared before either of us could utter a word. Helion raised a glass to mine with a “Cheers to an evening well spent in the Night Court - never a dull affair.” I smirked before throwing the shot back.

“Thank you for separating those two.” I remarked. Helion only grinned. “Somebody had to - otherwise they would have been at it all night. Lucien eventually would have won though.” He winked. “He has my stamina.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Helion was always kind to me, with a sense of humor that aligned with my own. He made countless odious court functions far more tolerable with his wit and overall charisma. I couldn’t blame the males and females that fought tooth and nail for a night in his bed. Hell, if he didn’t feel like an honorary Uncle figure to me, I would gladly take any opportunity for a roll in the sheets with the gorgeous male.

Helion raised an eyebrow, casting his gaze behind me as Nyx quickly approached us. Most would see him as collected and unbothered, wearing the same mask as his father, but I could recognize the frantic look in his eye.

“Helion.” He greeted with a charming smile and a nod of the head. “Excuse me while I steal away my lovely cousin for a moment.”

I extended my hand toward Helion who placed a kiss to it. “Try to stay out of trouble, lady. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

I laughed, knowing damn well there was nothing he wouldn’t do. “Bye, Helion.”

Nyx looped his arm through mine stating, “You’ve got about two minutes before your father is in here looking for you. Dad sent me a warning that Azriel is on his way back from the balcony and he is pissed.”

“Shocking” I sighed. My heart racing just a bit though as this was absolutely NOT the conversation I wanted to have with my father right now. For fucks sake, I am an adult after all. I can sleep with whomever I want so long as there is mutual consent.

“Come on.” Nyx smirked nodding his head toward the exit, “Let’s get out of here.”

———————-

It was 30 minutes later that Nyx, myself, and Adish found ourselves at our favorite bar(that our parents didn’t frequent). Rita’s was great, truly, the owners kept up with the times, making it appealing to younger and older fae alike. However, we had no intentions of going there and risking any of the Inner Circle showing up tonight. So, our favorite hole-in-the-wall joint it was.

Nyx threw back the shot before him, the colorful lights of the bar reflecting off his raven black hair - his wings involuntarily tucking in tight as the Cinnamon Whiskey I’d ordered us hit the back of his throat.

Adish simply laughed. “One of the most powerful fae in Prythian’s history and you can’t keep a straight face with a simple shot of whiskey. Get it together, Nyxie.”

“Come on, now.” I cut in. “You’re at an unfair advantage here considering you could throw back a literal flaming shot without wincing. We can’t all be so lucky as to have fire burning within us.”

Of course Adish couldn’t help himself as a wink and Helion’s sense of humor jumped out, “I could fix that.”

I rolled my eyes “Thanks for the generous offer, Adish. But, I’ve got your Uncle to help scratch that particular itch.”

“Good gods.” Nyx muttered. “I need more alcohol.” Adish nodded in agreement. We chatted and drank for an hour before two gorgeous forest nymphs strode by looking the two males before me up and down with lust in their bright green eyes, their long legs barely covered by their mini skirts. Nyx and Adish turned to watch them, eyes trailing the females all the way to the dance floor before returning their gazes back to me.

“You two are insufferable.” I mused. “Go. Have fun.”

They thought on it for all of a second before hurrying out of their seats. “Oh, Nyx, if anyone asks, I stayed at your apartment tonight…. And all day tomorrow.”

Before Nyx could protest, I added, “Best get going before the males flirting with your nymphs take them home - and you two leave with nothing but your hands company.”

Without further hesitation, Nyx and Adish were off to the dance floor - and I was off to the Autumn Court.

—————-

Winnowing in to the Autumn Court’s keep - I removed the hood from my cloak, discreetly revealing my face to the guard of a rear entrance into the residential quarters. The guard opened the door with a grunt allowing me to stride through the quiet corridors toward Eris’ chamber.

I didn’t bother knocking on his door - there was no way he had time to make it back here and find himself evening companionship in such a short period of time. Even if he did, I’m sure we could all have a good time.

The smell of crackling fire and roasting chestnuts greeted me granting a minor relief as the scent was fresh. Well, he made it back alive then - at least there’s that. Not that I was actually concerned for his safety. I knew he’d make it back just fine and preferably with all of my favorite parts in tact.

I sauntered to a drawer where my favorite lace underthings were stored. Nothing quite suited the mood I was in tonight - so I decided against anything in the drawer and summoned my shadows.

Was this what my shadows were intended to be used for? Absolutely not - but they had no objections when it came to Eris. They were rather fond of him - much to my chagrin. Stripping out of my clothes, my shadows whispered over my naked form, trailing over to cover just the places I willed them. A shadow barely covering my full breasts, darkened but with just a tempting hint of transparency, allowing the outline of my nipples to show through.

One shadow thinly settled over my waist, while its tendrils drifted downward to my thighs, circling around them tightly as garters would. My most bold shadow covered the front of my pussy, leaving an opening right over its already dripping center, and coming back together at my ass, a shadowy imitation of a crotchless thong.

This was my - well, their - best work yet. I heard Eris stepping out of the tub in his bathing chamber as I spread myself on his bed - his own personal feast to devour.

Heat pooled in my core like burning flames as my pulse thrummed with anticipation.

“Well” his low voice growled, stepping into the room, “my little minx came out to play.”

Eris tsk’ed, strutting to the edge of the bed with confident ease. He looked like a damned deity with only a towel slung low around his waist, his abdominal muscles trailing into an enticing “v” that narrowed down into his towel teasingly close to exactly what I wanted to see, to lick, to taste to my heart’s content. My mouth watered at the sight of him.

Not letting him catch a glimpse of how badly I needed him I cooed, “Aww, Eris, did you miss me?”

Without replying, he grabbed my ankles yanking me to the edge of the bed, a squeal escaping my lips that I wasn’t particularly proud of.

“You left me in quite the compromising position back there, little one.”

I wrapped my legs around his torso, tugging him closer to the edge of the bed - leaving just enough of a gap between the apex of my thighs and his body that he could see my exposed sex. “It seemed to me that you were more than capable of handling yourself, High Lord.”

“Fuck,” he growled, as he leaned down, wrapping his muscled arms around me and hauling me up against him in one fell swoop. Chills spread through me as his teeth tugged at my earlobe. His voice turning dangerously low, “Do they know where you are tonight?”

“Is this what you want right now, Eris? To talk about my family?” He turned, making long strides toward the nearest wall, effectively pinning me in place. One hand raised to wrap around my neck, constricting only on the sides - slowing the circulation beneath just enough to lighten my head in the most pleasurable of ways.

“What I want, is a direct answer Y/N.” Squeezing his fingers just a bit tighter for emphasis. “Do they know where you are?”

“They think I’m staying at Nyx’s place tonight.”

Eris smirked, smugly replying, “Good. I’d hate for your father to burst in here while you’re screaming ‘Daddy.’”

I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips at the threat in his words. He was NOT going to go easy on me tonight.

Good.

Releasing the grip on my neck, Eris reached between us, loosening the towel around his waist and letting gravity do the rest. Looking down, my mouth watered at the sight of his very evident arousal.

The look in his eyes turned predatory as my shadows gently vibrated in anticipation of what was to come.

“Sweet girl, I love when you take control, but tonight - you are mine to fuck however I please.”

A desperate, pleading little moan fell from my lips at the danger in his tone.

Eris raised an eyebrow in response, “Eager to be disciplined, little one?”

I locked my eyes with his, my bottom lip pulled between my teeth to the point of pain as I nodded.

A chuckle bordering villainous escaped him - “Words, darling. Use your words.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Let’s begin.”

—————————

Eris (earlier that night)

The balcony had emptied out save for Eris, Rhysand, and Azriel. The latter shaking with violent rage.

Eris could remember years ago when Azriel had given him a small taste of the power he could exude should he be provoked. Looking at the rage on his face now, he knew that the anger Azriel felt then was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Eris almost felt guilty - almost.

Fortunately, should the Shadowsinger pounce, Eris could hold his own given the power bestowed upon him when taking the Autumn Court’s throne.

It was likely Rhyand’s earlier command and the fact that Eris was now a High Lord himself that kept the Shadowsinger from attacking.

Keeping his arrogant facade in place, Eris cleared his throat. “Call off your dog, Rhysand. Let’s talk this out High Lord to High Lord.”

Azriel’s cold voice cut in before his High Lord could respond - “You’ll be praying for a dog to rip you apart by the time I’m through with you.”

Rhysand held up a hand. “Enough Azriel, you can take your wrath out on Eris at a later time.” Amusement shown in the Night Court High Lord’s eyes. “I, for one, would like to hear what Eris has to say about this particular situation.”

Eris looked to Azriel and back to Rhysand, “I would like to speak to you in private.”

The ground shook with the flare of Azriel’s rage from the implied exclusion but Rhysand considered the request. Shrugging off the spymaster’s look that all but screamed don’t you fucking dare - he motioned toward the entryway. “Come then, let’s speak in my office.”

Rhysand escorted Eris to an office space within the House of Wind, tucked at the end of a quiet corridor, far from the earshot of any attendees. A flicker of motion in a dark corner not lit by firelight caught his attention. “I’ve known you for centuries now Rhysand, you think I don’t see the shadow listening to us in the corner?”

The High Lord dramatically rested a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What is it with all of this ‘Rhysand’ business? You wound me, Eris.”

Eris smirked with amusement. “If you see me as a friend worthy of speaking on such a casual basis - you will dismiss the shadow.”

Clearly communicating with the Shadowsinger, Rhysand’s expression glazed over for a moment and the shadow exited the room. Rhys then threw up wards around the space.

“Now, what is so pressing that my Spymaster couldn’t be involved in this conversation?”

“Despite the fact that I am fucking his daughter and would prefer to keep the details of the arrangement between her and I?”

A wave of darkness rolled off the High Lord at the crude mention of his niece. “Careful, Eris.”

A lazy grin crossed the Autumn Court High Lord’s face. “Care to make a bargain?”

Twenty minutes and a bargain tattoo later, Eris and Rhys exited the study together.

“Remember,” Eris said. “NOBODY finds out the details of our discussion. If the Shadowsinger or his daughter are made aware, I have every right to retaliate accordingly.”

Rhys simply picked at an invisible speck of dust on his tailored jacket, a casual irreverence masking his features. “Good luck, Eris. You’re going to need it.”

———————————————————-

Stay tuned for Part 4!

A/n: I know you all have patiently waited for this and I want to thank you for your patience! January was an insane month (in good ways!) and it caused a delay for me. I hope you all like enjoy this new part. I will be adding at least one more part to the series.

Tags: @b0xerdancer