#tog x reader angst

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: for those whom I told the next parts would be less angsty... that doesn't refer to this one I'm so sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

Your muscles were heavy from peaceful sleep, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as eyes fluttered open to see Aedion and Gavriel standing at the opposite side of the room from where you lay.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around to find yourself in a tent, piles of blankets and furs draped over where you had been sleeping on the ground.

“She’ll be furious with you,” Aedion whispered, seemingly unaware that you had awoken. “But I thank you,” he ground out, the resistance clear in his tone as he looked to your father. 

Gavriel’s tawny eyes flicked to you, lined with sorrow as memories came rushing back. Your entire body heated with pure rage and fear, nails clawing into the covers of your makeshift bed as you tossed the covers away. 

“You,” you seethed, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stood to face Gavriel. It was Aedion who stepped between you, his eyes showing a vulnerability you had yet to see him reveal in front of your father. 

“I know you are upset. But for once,” he glanced pointedly at Gavriel, “he did the right thing. No good could have come from Maeve knowing that you are Fenrys’s mate.”

Hearing his name unleashed a wave of emotion, a lump catching in your throat as the bond screamed inside of you, longing for your other half. “He’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking as painful, hopeless thoughts eddied in a whirlpool, threatening to drown you. “I may never truly know my mate, because of you,” you growled the last word, tone piercing Gavriel enough to make him flinch.

Aedion fully stepped in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, covering your father from your view. “Listen to me. Maeve would have used you to torture him. She would have used you to torture Aelin. Saving him was not an option when he is so close to Maeve. Their blood oath is too strong.”

Your eyes shuttered as the hopeless realization crashed over you like an ocean wave knocking you below the surface. You stepped back, willing your thoughts to calm enough to look at Gavriel’s face, his expression full of guilt and worry. “I swear to you, we will find him. We will free him, if it is the last thing that I do.” He spoke with such conviction, you felt your heart soften, suddenly feeling guilty for how you had spoken to Gavriel.

Before you could find the words to apologize, Gavriel continued. “That is why we are headed north. Aedion leaves for Orynth shortly, but we will be joining Rowan along with Lorcan and Elide. So long as you feel that bond in your chest, we can use it to find Fenrys and Aelin.”

You nodded, shifting into the familiar mindset of a spy as you had lived for so long. “When do we leave?” 

A soft, proud smile graced Aedion’s lips, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I leave now. I had just come to say goodbye,” he murmured. It was an all too familiar sentiment in your family - the sacrifice of leaving your loved ones in the name of duty. 

“Stay safe. I will see you soon,” you responded, not an encouragement, but an oath - one that you clung to, your chest tight as your brother disappeared out the tent. Gaze flicking to Gavriel, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

“We leave as soon as Rowan returns from the neighboring town. He and Elide are there looking for information from the locals, and we will decide where to travel from there.” All you could manage was a nod, your emotions still roiling deep within underneath your calm facade. 

You packed in silence, Gavriel’s stare burning into your side as you avoided interaction. You had just finished packing and dismantling your tent when Rowan and Elide returned, their eyes lit with a similar wired determination as your own. 

Pine green eyes locked with yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you and Rowan - that the two of you would allow the world to burn to ash before you would allow it to take your mates.

“We’re leaving for Doranelle,” Rowan announced, brooking no room for questions before he helped load your and Elide’s bags onto horses. Giving Rowan a sharp nod, you followed suit, gathering necessities for the journey. 

The dying embers of the campfire the only trace of your existence in the forest, your group headed for Doranelle, Rowan letting out a cry as he shifted into hawk form, soaring above as you journeyed below. The day passed mostly in silence, tensions thick between you and your father, and Elide and Lorcan. 

At your request, Elide explained in brief detail why you were headed towards one of Maeve’s strongholds. She and Rowan had come across one of Maeve’s soldiers at an inn, but the shudder that passed through her when you asked for more told you all that you needed to know about how Rowan acquired that information, and you let the conversation drop.

The sun had long since set when fatigue weighed heavy on your bones, head aching from lack of food and rest. Gavriel sensed it, his too-knowing eyes scanning your sluggish movements, the limp that Elide was trying to hide. 

“We will stop here for the night,” he spoke, low voice not allowing any arguments, not that you could form any. You practically crashed into the ground where you stood at his words, Elide settling next to you as Lorcan gathered kindling. 

There remained little talk among the group. You couldn’t speak for others, but you knew that if you tried to speak, emotions would burst forth like water through a broken dam, the carefully maintained mask of strength you were wearing to be shattered into pieces. Gavriel, Lorcan, and Elide mumbled their good nights, while you and Rowan sat by the fire. 

The twisting, flickering flames held your attention in a captivating dance, the only distraction you could find from the constant agony you felt throughout your body, the unbearable weight of your mate’s pain echoing in each fiber of your soul.

You dared a glance at Rowan, his sharp eyes moving from the fire towards you. You supposed the fire meant something different to him - a reminder of his other half, the closest thing he had to her in this moment. It was a different kind of pain, but one that you could understand as the others did not.

“Do you feel her, too?” you managed, voice cracking through the strained whisper. Rowan’s brow dipped, confusion flickering across his features before understanding settled. 

“No,” he choked, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing. “No, I cannot feel her through the bond. I think whatever  But I know she is there, she is alive. That much I can feel.” A shaky breath escaped you, eyes lining with silver as you curled into your body, gaze focused back on the flames in front of you.

“Can you? Feel him?” Rowan pressed, voice soft as the night breeze. Your eyes squeezed shut, the only hope you had to keep those tears from falling, but one escaped, cold warm against your chilled skin as it traced your cheek.

“Yes,” you breathed, a sob building in your lungs as you gasped for air. “Yes, I feel everything. I feel his pain, I feel his loneliness, I-“

Words were stolen from your lungs as your chest seized, inexplicable pain, grief, bringing you to your knees. You were vaguely aware of Rowan’s presence, a warm hand on your back as sobs wracked your body. Wave after wave of grief and shame barreled into you, body shaking with the force of emotions being thrust upon you.

“Breathe,” Rowan murmured, his hand on your back a grounding comfort as the emotions faded, a distinct numbness filling your senses. Emptiness consumed your being, the only reminder that you were still alive the flames in front of you. 

Silver hair illuminated in the firelight, moving into your vision as Rowan kneeled in front of you. “Can you say... what happened?” he breathed, fear in his eyes as he dared the question.

“He’s not... he isn’t dead,” you managed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly as Rowan visibly relaxed. “Something terrible happened, Rowan. If what I felt was only a small part of what Fenrys is feeling...” Whatever hold you had on your own emotions was lost in that moment, tears falling freely as you cried.

Another hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up through blurry eyes to see your father watching you, heartbreak written on his features. On instinct, you crashed into him, throwing your arms around Gavriel’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent. 

Conversations were happening in the background - Lorcan and Elide apparently also wakened by your cries - but you held onto your father, finding a small piece of solace in having him here.

Gavriel’s hand lifted, a canteen handed to him which he brought to your hands. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, tawny eyes observing carefully as your shaky hands gripped the vessel. Forcing small sips of water down your throat, breathing came easier, and you noticed Rowan, Lorcan, and Elide all standing nearby. 

“I’m not going to stay the night,” Rowan said, moving back towards where you sat. “If you want to rest, Gavriel will stay with you and Elide. But if you-“

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted. Rowan merely nodded, as thought your response was exactly what he expected. Lorcan was already moving, packing and loading supplies as Rowan’s power suffocated the fire.

You walked in line with Gavriel, leaves and sticks crunching under your boots as owls hooted against the still-darkened sky. “I can feel him, still,” you murmured, eyes downcast at your scuffed, muddied shoes. “I feel him, but it’s different than before. He’s... hollow. It’s like this numbness, and I can’t reach his end of the bond, so I don’t know if he can feel me.” 

Your eyes burned with tears you were too drained to shed when Gavriel grabbed your hand, turning you to stop and look up at him. “Do not give up. I know it hurts, I know what Maeve is capable of. But please, be better than me. Fight for Fenrys. He deserves that. You deserve that. And we will find him, and Aelin.”

Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to your father’s cheek, your eyes never leaving his as you spoke. “You did the right thing. I have already mourned a childhood without you, but I’ve been allowed to know you now, and I am so thankful for a father as selfless as you, who was willing to sacrifice seeing his children grow to keep us safe. You didn’t give up, and I will not either.”

You both turned, heads snapping forward towards the road ahead as Gavriel cleared his throat, eyes shining with emotion as you continued the rest of your walk in silence.

By the time you arrived in Doranelle, your feet hurt like never before, entire body sore from long travels and lack of sleep. Your group hid in the trees just outside the main road through town. Elide turned to you, a fire in her eyes that lit one in your chest. 

“The males are too recognizable, so you will all stay out here and keep a low profile while I go into town. I’m going to see if anyone has information about Cairn’s location, because we know he’s with Aelin and Fenrys.”

You shook your head. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going alone into town, and it would be suspicious if you were by yourself.” You looked around, Lorcan giving you a grateful smile while Gavriel opened his mouth as if to argue. Before he could say anything, you took Elide’s hand and set off towards town.

Doranelle was bustling, people shopping and selling throughout the streets, men calling for your attention as the two of you walked at a brisk pace, eyes and ears open for any sign of danger.

Multiple groups of people shuffled in the same direction, your gaze following their movements towards a pub that appeared to be full of travelers and locals alike. “That’s where we should go,” you murmured to Elide, her dark eyes joining yours as she studied the tavern’s entrance.

Releasing your hand, Elide led the way into the building, instructing you to take a seat wherever you could find one as she took the lead. You found a small booth, thankful for the weight off your feet and even the rancid beer a barmaid slid your way.

It was pure entertainment, a respite from the hellish reality you had been living lately, as you watched Elide put on a show of the helpless maiden. Batting her long lashes, giving shy smiles, she wrung any information she could from the tavern’s patrons while you kept watch.

Everyone seemed taken by her story, the heartbroken lover of Maeve’s general, except for one female. She lounged at one of the tables, chestnut brown eyes watching Elide with a keen, quiet interest. And then Elide mentioned Cairn.

A hush fell over the room, the mood instantly sobering at the mention of the newest member of Maeve’s cadre. Expressions turned cold, even sour as people closed themselves off to Elide’s charm. They definitely knew something, and as you watched Elide excuse herself to the washroom, you caught the striking female with chestnut eyes from before stand up quickly, dark brown hair flowing around her as she turned and followed Elide down the hall.

You were quick behind her, dagger sheathed discreetly at your side. Using your blade, you wedged open the door to the washroom to find Elide wide-eyed, tension thick in the air as she and the female stared at each other. 

Your blade quickly found the female’s neck, your foot kicking the door shut behind you. “Who are you, and what do you know?” you questioned, voice lethally calm.

The female didn’t struggle, her demeanor relaxed as she spoke. “My name is Essar. I mean no harm - I simply wanted to warn your friend to stay away from Cairn. But it appears she is better protected than I believed.” 

Her voice remained calm as she dared to turn towards you, unbothered at how your blade dug further into her skin. “Why do you look for Cairn, truly?”

Your gaze hardened on Essar, assessing the trustworthiness of this new character. “That would depend. What is he to you?” you asked, releasing her so slightly from your hold.

A scoff escaped her lips, nearly a slight laugh as though your question was absurd. “He is nothing to me. And Maeve is less than nothing,” she ground out, venom lacing her tone. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at her spite. 

“We have business to attend to regarding Cairn,” you murmured, gaze flicking towards the door to check it was closed. 

A knowing gleam shone in Essar’s eyes. “You have Gavriel’s eyes,” she whispered, clearing her throat as she studied you and Elide. “Cairn is at the camp just north of town. He was seen there this morning.”

It was an effort to not let your surprise show, but somehow you knew that you could trust Essar. Hope sprang in your chest, as though the bond was confirming Fenrys was close. “Thank you,” you murmured, to Essar, hand reaching for the doorknob as you gestured for Elide to follow.

“Give them Hell,” Essar said, chin raised proudly. You gave her a final nod of thanks before slipping out the door. Elide could barely keep up with your pace as you raced through town, back to the edge of the woods where the males waited. Now that you knew where Fenrys was, nothing could hold you back from finding him.

You were both short of breath, struggling to explain all that Essar had shared with you at the tavern. “I believe her,” you said, looking to Rowan and Gavriel for validation. But it was Lorcan whose eyes grew soft as you spoke of the female you had met, the other males looking to Lorcan for only a brief moment before Rowan cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“We can trust her,” he said. “I’ll take to the skies. You follow my lead - we’ll walk around town to avoid running into Maeve’s soldiers for now.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as Rowan launched into the air, your group quietly following the path of the hawk as it led you around the edge of town. Sounds of soldiers running drills, sparring, blacksmiths at work all filled your ears as rows and rows of tents came into view. 

Breath caught in your lungs, the twist of hope and fear electric as it shot through your body. A warm hand wrapped around yours, and you looked down as Gavriel gave it a comforting squeeze. “I am with you,” he whispered.

Words evaded you, but you managed to nod to your father - a silent acknowledgment: "I am with you, too."

Scanning the grounds of the camp, you searched for a way in. There were too many tents, too many places Fenrys and Aelin could be. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bloody cry of a hawk, and before your mind could catch up to your body, you found yourself running, sword drawn, towards the center of camp where Rowan flew.

Soldiers charged you, your adrenaline pumping as you cut them down one by one. Red flooded your gaze as you saw a shell of a female, weighed in familiar iron shackles as she stumbled out of a tent on thin legs. 

Blood pounded in your ears, the faint sound of Lorcan yelling at your side all that you could register as Aelin ran towards you. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as you locked eyes with your cousin through the iron mask she wore, heart somehow shattered and whole at the sight of her, alive yet broken.

“Fenrys,” she choked. “Fenrys!” Aelin’s voice cried. She whipped around like a wild animal caught in a trap, yelling at Rowan and Lorcan, pleading for them to find your mate. 

You rose to chase after him, but Rowan’s pleading look settled that rage within you - he would find your mate while you protected his. And so you watched him run through the camp with Lorcan, a beautiful storm of chaos as the warriors partnered seamlessly in battle. 

The clanking of chains pulled you from your daze, Aelin scratching at her binds. “Take it off take it off take it OFF,” she screamed, voice hoarse as she chanted violently. Rowan appeared by her side, his hands working as they tried to find an opening on the mask. Rowan.

Your eyes went wild, an unexplainable ache carving itself into your chest as you stood, spinning clumsily while you searched for any sign of Fenrys. The sight of white fur on the ground, Gavriel leaning over the wolf who lay, covered in blood and barely breathing snapped something within you. 

As your father gave you a helpless look, the world cleaved in two, as though half of your soul was ripped from your chest. Collapsing to the ground, your hand wove in Fenrys’s fur as onyx eyes gazed at you, unblinking. 

There was no room in your heart for more tears at this point. Everything had been taken from you - so you lay there, watching the last hope you had for a future, for love, as he faded away.

You didn’t head the commotion behind you as Rowan managed to break the Wyrd marks locking Aelin’s chains, how she crawled weakly to Fenrys’s side across from you. The words, “live, Fenrys. Live,” echoed through your head, Aelin’s voice like a helpless prayer.

And then he blinked. Gold flecks shone in his eyes, chest rising slowly as your mate released a soft whine. Your heart burst with joy, love pouring from your end of the bond as you were finally able to reach Fenrys.

Your hand reached out to him just as he shifted into his human form, long blonde curls fallen across his beautiful face as he stared at you. “Is this real?” he rasped, and you nodded, a broken laugh escaping as you sat up, pulling Fenrys’s head into your lap as his hands found yours, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“He’s gone,” Fenrys whispered, his gaze distant. You felt it then - the hollow feeling, the numbness you had felt through the bond. “Connall,” he murmured, eyes finding yours as a tear rolled down his cheek, and you understood. Fenrys had lost a part of himself - Maeve had taken so much from your mate.

“I will kill her,” you vowed. 

Fenrys’s hand lifted to brush your cheek. “You were my hope. The only strength I found to keep going.” 

Taking his hand from your cheek, you pressed a kiss to his palm. Flames danced in your eyes. “For what she did to you, to Connall, to Aelin. She will burn.”

Author’s Note: I took a break from this series and don’t know if a part 4 will happen. Sorry to disappoint anyone, but there are no immediate plans for this series to continue.

tag list: @hellodarling1357 @sassyslytherinshai

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Six

Series Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - mentions of pain, mentions of death, mentions of torture, angstttt, sadness, fluff

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

It had taken 17 hours for y/n to stir.

17 hours of Azriel sat at her bedside hating himself for allowing her to venture from the cabin alone and picturing himself grabbing her hand at the last second to stop her from leaving him.

17 hours of verbal beatings which would have been physical if it weren’t for his refusal to leave her side.

Aelin was furious, her wildfire blazing as blue as her eyes across each one of her limbs.

Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word, but his eyes didn’t leave Azriel for one moment, and he hadn’t unclenched his fists from the moment he had stepped foot into Prythian and scented the direness of the situation at hand.

Lorcan and Aedion also refused to move from the room, being her bloodsworn they had a duty to protect and serve her, and they felt as if they had failed in a sense.

Then there was Manon, the gold eyed witch queen with talons so sharp that they had drawn blood from Azriel’s arms when they coiled around him and demanded to know what had happened with a voice so venomous that he was sure she would drink his blood if she could.

In short, everyone despised him, and even Rhys was reluctant to offer a safe hand to his brother. Azriel understood, Rhys had only just gotten his sister back, and was feeling like a failure in his own way for sending her in the first place. Rhys was so ashamed of his request that he had allowed Aelin to preside over y/n’s care with Yrene, as well as the scouting missions she had ordered Rowan and Manon to embark upon to ensure that no attack would befall the city whilst y/n was injured and vulnerable.

The last 17 hours hadn’t been kind to y/n. Black poison poured from the bandages secured around her chest and abdomen, which meant that Yrene had to change them more often, and a fever so damning had taken over her body, causing the Queen of the Erilean Fae to sweat and shake uncontrollably whilst her body fought an internal war to win back her life. It was horrible to watch, and it all could have been avoided if Azriel had been there, flying below her and ensuring no one could pick them out of the skies, or if Rhys hadn’t sent them to begin with.

Azriel could picture it. A fond and vivid image of y/n flying above him. The rain would cause her raven black hair to stick to her skin, but it was the thin wisps of baby hair that stuck to her forehead that made the faintest of smiles to appear on Azriel's lips. Y/N seemed so unbothered up there, so... at home. Much like he found solace in the shadows, she found songs in the storms. A peace that could never be tainted.

That's what he willed himself to see when he looked upon her pallid, fever-stricken face. He willed himself to see the version of her that she would have wished. One where she was happy. One where she was plagued by serenity.

None of them could pinpoint how Hybern had known that y/n was in Prythian, or how they knew that she even existed in order to create the only poison that could be used to weaken and fatally harm her. Even Yrene had uttered that the ingredients were sparse even within Erilea. It meant that someone had spent valuable time collecting and crafting in order to inflict the pain onto y/n. Azriel swore to himself that whoever it was would die for it in the most curdling manner his mind could fathom.

It was within the thirty second minute that she stirred, her kaleidoscope orbs appearing beneath her fluttering lids and a small groan of torturous pain emitting from her lips. Azriel moved from the chair beside her to the mattress in a matter of seconds, disturbing the peace by shouting into the void for Lorcan and Aedion to call for Yrene, and the healer came quickly at their demands barrelling down the halls.

Yrene was closely followed by Aelin and Manon, the latter of which growled once she spied Azriel’s marred flesh tainting the purity of her queen. The red cloak of Manon swept against the stone beneath her feet, her claws were retracted but her teeth were poised to rip the throat out of anyone who got too close, Azriel included. Not wasting a moment, Yrene crossed the room whilst fastening her apron at her back, reaching out to lay her hand on y/n’s forehead and stealing it back with a hiss and the scent of burning flesh. “How are you holding her?” Yrene asked, perplexed, holding her burnt hand to her chest.

To Azriel, y/n felt hot, but not searing, not burning. From the beads of sweat that teared down her pallid cheeks, he knew that she was struggling to fight off the poison and the infection that came with it.

The Shadowsinger didn’t answer.

Instead, he kept his hazel eyes upon her face, tracing the slow beat of her eyelids and the quaking of her gasping lips as she attempted to form a word. “Y/N,” Azriel cooed gently, causing y/n to stop trembling for a moment, “To me,” he told her, pulling her darting eyes from the ceiling and to his face, “You need to save your energy and rest. Close your eyes and sleep. Let Yrene heal you.”

It wasn’t as much as a command as it was a plead, but she listened, shakily nodding her head and shivering into slumber, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

He felt the golden eyes of the witch queen on the side of his face, Manon couldn’t understand how y/n hadn’t noticed her at her side, she couldn’t understand how y/n’s eyes found Azriel instantly over her own. Azriel moved his gaze to meet those orbs of gold and speckled black, refusing the back down even if he did find her terrifying. “She needs Doranelle,” Manon spoke, not to Azriel despite him being in her eye line, but to Aelin who stood behind her, and to Rowan who was propped against the doorway.

“We’re stuck here,” Aelin reminded her, making it clear that she had already thought the same but knew it was impossible without y/n’s power to rip open the fabric of space and time to take them there. Aelin dropped to her knees beside y/n, the fire coursing through y/n’s veins battling against her own, and she ran her fingers down the side of her face, worry clear and fear prominent. “This King,” Aelin spat, “Knows what he has done. Your war will be coming sooner than you think, and he’ll seek to destroy her along with it.”

“I won’t let him,” Azriel growled, tone low and threatening, and eyes peeking through the thickness of his lashes whilst his hand kept entwined with y/n’s like he was her link back to the land of the living.

Aelin honed in on Azriel, drinking in the dark possessiveness in his eyes and the way his shadows flitted over the skin of her dearest friend, almost as if they were trying to shield her from the world.

It wasn’t like Aelin truly blamed the Shadowsinger for what happened to y/n, she knew first hand just how difficult she could be when it came to anything she felt determined to do. In all honesty, Aelin blamed Rhys the most and had told him plenty of times of the fact. Y/N was Rhys’ sister, he knew how important she was to other worlds let alone his own, and he willingly put her in danger. Such motions threatened the survival of Prythian, and by extension, Erilea.

The feelings of Aelin were probably why Rhys had stayed away, waiting for the rest of them to leave for the evening before spending the night at her side, reading and telling her stories of their father and sister to then only leave at the break of dawn when Lorcan and Aedion would arrive. Azriel was the only one who stayed every minute of every hour, refusing to be anywhere else, out of guilt or desperation Aelin would never truly know, but part of her was thankful for it.

Do you see it?

Aelin craned her head over her shoulder to find Rowan’s orbs fixated on the pallid body of his friend and former princess, a woman he had spent centuries protecting and training. His sight pulled from her to Aelin and he nodded, eyes flickering to Azriel who had turned all of his attention back to y/n.

Yes.

The yawning of Aedion who was sprawled across a chair in the far corner halted Aelin from probing Rowan further. The unimpressed guise of the chamber fell upon him, “Tired, Cousin?”

Aedion shrugged, motioning to Lorcan with a wave of his hand, “She’s funnelling our energy through the bond. Forgive us for feeling a little lethargic, Aelin.”

“What do you mean? She’s funnelling your energy?” Azriel asked, brows furrowed and trying to grasp the meaning in his mind.

Sighing, Aelin explained, “Y/N is incredibly powerful,” she smiled upon y/n sadly, “There are aspects of her power that she refuses to use, abilities of the darkness that she inherited from her mother, Maeve. She can absorb strength from those sworn to her and from those who offer their power to her,” Aelin nodded toward Aedion and Lorcan with her eyes softening, “Y/N is absorbing the strength and energy from Aedion and Lorcan, they are her bloodsworn, and her body is in such a bad way that it seems the dark spots of her power are grasping onto anything they can to keep her alive.”

“It’s happened before?”

Aelin smiled thinly, trying to offer some comfort to Azriel who was beginning to understand the pain inflicted upon the woman before his eyes, but before Aelin could reply, Manon’s voice echoed between them. “Once. She was in a much worse state after she destroyed Maeve, her power was drained for the first time in her life, and she was severely injured from what Maeve did before the battle. All of that put her into a state of comatosis. It took her weeks to wake.” From the heaviness of Manon’s recount, Azriel knew just how close they were, all of them, so he understood why they blamed him, hated him.

“I’m sorry that I let her leave the cabin. I’m sorry,” Azriel spoke, staring right into Manon and trying to decipher whatever emotion lay within those cold golden orbs.

Rising to his feet, Aedion crossed the room, nudging a lingering Rowan on the way, “It’s fine. Y/N is a stubborn thing, she’s pulled the wool over all of our eyes at some point.”

“Like when she sacrificed herself to secure my freedom?” Aelin asked with a smile, leaning to run her fingers along y/n’s arm.

“Or when she trailed the ilken following Elide and I and slaughtered them all without us even realising it?” Lorcan huffed with amusement, creeping closer to the bed with humour in his eyes and his arms firmly folded over his chest.

“Then there’s Skull’s Bay,” Rowan almost sang, the words being the first noise he had made since he had arrived in Velaris and the room hummed in fond remembrance.

“And we won’t ever forget how she took possession of that burst dam and swallowed Maeve along with it. She saved us all that day, even when she was barely alive,” Manon spoke softly, a speckle of humanity shining through her soul shrouded in stone, “She’s family,” was all the witch queen said, an olive branch of sorts, an explanation as to why she had been so difficult.

Noting the concern in Azriel’s eyes, Aelin lay a hand upon his shoulder, gentle but unyielding, “She’s survived worse, Shadowsinger. Don’t underestimate her, you won’t survive the humiliation.”

Silenced followed after that, well, silence for Azriel at least. Whilst he traced the contours of her face, the rest of the room spent some time reminiscing, talking fondly of Erilea which Azriel somewhat listened to but didn’t engage with. All he could really wonder was what place could be so worthy of someone so perfect, and part of him wanted to walk the streets of Doranelle for a moment so that he would be able to understand it.

Only when Yrene would periodically swim by would Azriel lift his eyes to give her a thankful smile that she would return with an unspoken warmth. It seemed as though y/n had a family of her own, just like he did, a family not of blood, but of unbroken bonds and unyielding wrathful friendship. They’d all die for one another, it was something Azriel could resonate with.

After an hour, the doors to the chamber opened and Feyre stepped in, fumbling with her fingers and eyes floating through the room until they landed on Azriel and Y/N, and she found her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her, it reminding her of how Rhys’ gaze embedded itself into her at all times.

The expectant void of words caused Feyre to float back into the room, “Rhys would like a meeting. We should discuss next steps in this war and in y/n’s recovery. Yrene can stay with her, it won’t take long.” Aelin rolled her eyes but stood, muttering something about a false king under her breath which caused Rowan to chortle a laugh as they passed by Feyre. “You too, Az.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Yrene told him softly once she realised the reluctance in his eyes and the way his fingers curled tighter around her hand, “If anything happens, I’ll call for you. I promise.”

Stiffly nodding, Azriel stood from his seat that was imprinted with his frame, he pressed his lips tenderly to the pallid and slightly bruised knuckles of y/n before laying her hand softly upon the mattress and following after Feyre, stealing one last look at the fussing Yrene as her glowing hands floated over y/n’s torso yet again.

Azriel trailed behind the group, lingering at the side of his High Lady as they all sauntered through the halls of the House of Wind. Whilst pacing through the fortress, Azriel couldn't help but allow his gaze to float between each one of the other-worldly beings. Beginning with Aelin and tracking how her arm slid around Rowan's waist, to Rowan who placed a tender kiss upon her brow, to Aedion and Lorcan who were bustling shoulder to shoulder, clearly being too large for the width of the halls, and then there was Manon, red cloak swaying at her back and moon-white hair braided over her shoulder whilst her eyes darted past every doorway like she could see beyond them.

Yes, Azriel was very sure of y/n's safety being almost a guarantee.

With all of his watching and observing, he didn't notice the eyes of Feyre drifting over his face with a quirked smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "You don't leave her side. Why?" Feyre asked quietly, catching how his eyes thinned slightly as he searched his mind for an answer that would appease her.

"I feel guilty," he tried to say, but the heaviness of his voice betrayed his words.

Feyre gently slipped her arm around his, resting her fingers on the indent of his elbow and pulling him into her side softly. "No. I don't think that's why," she gave him a pointed look, one loaded with knowing, "You feel something for her, despite only knowing her for a few days. What draws you to her?"

A more adequate question would be what didn't draw Azriel to y/n?

"I wasn't sure at first. If you had asked me why I couldn't concentrate at the High Lord's Meeting then I would have told you the truth. It was because of her. Not because she was new, or because I thought she was a threat..." Azriel trailed off, his voice softening and shoulders falling lax, like all tension had floated away, "It was because looking at her made me feel like I was finally home. There is a warmth within her, and a darkness that mirrors my own. She is fierce and tortured, but gentle in ways no one would ever be able to begin to understand. Y/N has spent her life fighting, being used for what she can offer but not being appreciated for who she is, and I think that I understand that."

"So, you seek to protect her?"

"No," Azriel sighed, looking to Feyre with a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never though she would ever get to witness, "Well, yes. But I seek to give her a life free of torment. A life of love and one void of the restraints of her station. I seek to be her freedom, Feyre."

The High Lady of the Night Court found herself blushing from sheer excitement. Feyre had noticed it the moment y/n had waltzed into their lives, limbs exposed and hair flowing, eyes glowing with the light of a thousand storms; she had seen something spark, a cog falling into place after so long tumbling around without purpose.

"Does it help that she is the most beautiful thing to walk the universe?"

Azriel scoffed, "Her beauty is incomparable to what lies beneath it," he told Feyre, glancing sidelong with a smirk, "But I suppose she isn't half bad to look at."

Feyre tried to conceal her chuckle behind her hand as they both entered the dining room that Rhys had converted into a meeting room for the sake of convenience.

It was clear that sleep had escaped him, and what was even more pristine was the fact that Aelin could not have cared less about it as she took her place at the head of the table, further solidifying her position as leader of their little merged group. Rhys didn't contest, instead he simply moved to the opposing end, motioning for Azriel and Feyre to take a place either side of him.

A usually convivial dining table now swimming with discontent from two sides.

Aelin assumed her usual position. Legs propped against the tabletop. Arms folded over her chest. Dagger gleaming in the pale lights and reflecting upon the ceiling. A warning. A dare.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Aelin's head curled to meet Rhys' sight, "Have you figured out how this world knew of her and the only thing that can weaken her?"

Silence consumed the room like thick onyx poison, drowning and dimming all forms of barely there happiness. Rhys shuffled in his seat. He had to send himself on such a mission since he knew that Azriel refused to leave his sisters side, and he had come up empty handed.

The location of y/n's downfall had been left void of any traces of armies and magic, the only sign of this incident occurring being the blood soaked earth where Rhys had stood for an hour cursing himself for even thinking about sending her away when he had only just gotten her back.

If he could, he would go back and rip the order from his mouth. He'd carve out his own tongue to keep her hidden.

"No," Rhys spoke roughly with a throat that hadn't been quenched by water in what felt to him like days. "I assure you that such knowledge has never reached Prythian. I sent word to Helion and Thesan, enquiring if such a poison were in any of their libraries. There isn't."

Lorcan scoffed and glanced to Rowan who had his lip curled upward into a snarl from his place beside Aelin, "And you believe them?"

Sprinkles of magic littered the air, casting a faint shimmer that filled the spaces of the open arched windows whilst the faint sound of laughter from the mouths of little ones echoed upward to the House of Wind.

"I do," Rhys gulped. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a hand down his face that was soaked with exhaustion. "Helion and Thesan aren't only High Lords of Prythian. They are friends of the Night Court, and their lives have been dedicated to research and healing. They would never withhold such information."

"Forgive me for not believing a word of it," Aelin muttered, fingers tracing along the hilt of the dagger on the table. "Your enemy knew that she would come. He knew she would come looking for him, and he knew exactly how to ensure her death. If it weren't for that last burst of power that brought Aedion and Lorcan to her position, she'd be gone." Aelin leant forward in her seat, feet falling flat against the ground and venom laced in her words.

"You foolish man. Sending not only your long lost sister but our queen into the belly of a beast without being able to ensure her safety. Your world isn't the only one at stake here. If she cannot recover from this then your world will perish, and our world will have lost its fiercest warrior."

Manon chuckled, pulling the attention of the room to her, and Cassian who was placed beside her leant away from the talons she was running the pads of her fingers down lazily. "In other words, if she dies here, we'll ensure that you do too. Or well, I will," Manon flashed her iron teeth at Rhys, causing Feyre to shift uncomfortably in her seat as her fingers became entwined in his own, allowing her power to ebb and flow from her essence in response to Manon's threat.

Remembering his position, Azriel's eyes manoeuvred over Manon, then Aedion and Lorcan whose fists were clenched but possessed tired eyes, before landing on Aelin and Rowan who were struggling to contain themselves. Tendrils of shadow scattered over his shoulders, dancing wildly in a brisk wind from an opened door, sauntering up and down and shaking in rhythm with a silent, reverberating thumping that was grasping at and rattling his bones.

"I think it would be wise to refrain from talking to my brother like that," the room collectively snapped its gaze to the doorway, and Aelin rose to her feet instantly.

Before them all stood a pale but healing y/n. She was grasping at her side but walked forward with a pride Aelin had never seen before, not in someone who was hours ago so close to the grave. There was something dark about her, the power itself or the contrast of her hair and eyes against her whitened skin Aelin wasn't sure. But what was clear was that she knew something, the truth and ire dancing in the dimness of her eyes. Something that could change the course of all of their fates.

Y/N's silver skirt kissed the ground as she stopped at Rhys' side, laying her hand atop his shoulder and squeezing it weakly, "I can understand being protective," y/n moved her eyes around the room, slowly raking over each one of her Erilean family, "But don't be mistaken into believing that threatening my blood is big or wise. I decided to take to those skies alone. It is my doing and mine alone."

Azriel felt his heart stop when her eyes finally found him, and he stood instantly, offering his arm and seat and feeling a sense of completeness when she accepted his touch and found comfort in the sensation of his presence behind her.

"Y/N-"

"I'm not finished," a voice of dread and death cut through the plea that fell from Aedion's lips, a voice of a ruler, a voice of one of the most deadly beings the universe would ever know. Inhaling deeply, y/n closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was preparing herself for something, and in sensing her discomfort and hesitation, Azriel lay his hand at the top of her spine, allowing every emotion and ounce of pain to wash through his veins.

Y/N visibly relaxed.

"In my sleep, the attack played in my mind over and over again, not like a nightmare, but in a way to make me see the truth. To push me to see beyond the pain," her eyes were downcast, but she moved backward into Azriel's hand, feeling a blanket of certainty and warmth coiling around her frame. "When I was flying over their camp, I felt the power of the cauldron. It was a drowning feeling, it made me feel confused almost, and I felt a certain type of dread. I was scared."

Y/N's eyes dragged down the table, settling on Rowan with eyebrows tight and fear visible within her irises. "There has only ever been one form of power that has ever made me feel like that. Maybe I was too wrapped up in what was happening to realise it."

"What are you saying, y/n?" Rowan urged, knuckles turning pale from his grip around the arms of his chair.

Without thinking about it, y/n's fingers faintly traced over the scar that had held Azriel's attention in the cabin. A morbid reminder.

"Dorian and I had a theory. That souls from our world didn't pass on into the afterlife but rather fell through the plains separating Erilea from other worlds. It had only ever really been a theory, but it was something that we couldn't stop thinking about. It haunted us in a way."

Because they had both lost a parent.

"But being here now with a poison in my veins so putrid and complex that no one from this world could have ever known of it. I realise what is happening." Aelin leaned forward, gaze flickering over the face of her friend until their eyes met. "There is only one person who knows how to make it. Only one person who would find joy in seeing me dead. Only one person who would seek to ensure the upmost pain. Only one person whose power terrifies me."

Aelin's eyes blew wide. "No," she spoke a hush above a whisper, "It can't be. She's dead. You killed her."

"What's going on?" Rhys entwined his fingers with those of his sister, feeling her fear bristling against the walls of her mind like a battering ram, splintering and wrecking the cage of her consciousness.

Realisation was floating about the room, to all those bar the Inner Circle. Rowan's head hung low, his eyes closed and nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale, and Aedion couldn't lift his eyes from the tabletop.

"Maeve is here. My mother has come to punish me by devouring your world. Only when you're all dead will she kill me, and then can she conquer Erilea for the final time. Who knows, she might even keep me alive long enough to watch Doranelle and Terrasen burn." Y/N turned to Rhys, bottom lip almost wobbling, "I'm sorry. This is happening because of what I did."

Rhys dropped to his knees before her, taking her burning face in his hands and stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. "We'll face it. We'll face her. And may the Mother grant her some mercy when I get my hands on her." He read the depleting light in her eyes, knowing that whatever energy she had been granted was wavering. "Let's get you back to bed. We can face this tomorrow. We still have time."

The High Lord of the Night Court went to hook an arm beneath his sisters arms, but she wrenched herself away to the side, still under the touch of Azriel, and looked upward to him. It was a silent plead, the widened watering eyes and a gentle shrug that lifted her shoulders.

Azriel moved instantly, scooping y/n into his arms and hugging her tightly into his chest, propping his chin on the crown of her head as he wordlessly carried her away.

Author's Note

I know it's been ages and I'M SO SORRY

Taglist

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Home, At Last | Azriel & WitchDaughter!Reader

Summary: Unbeknownst to Azriel, an encounter he had with a witch nearly three centuries ago will come back to haunt him when his shadows begin speaking of you, his “daughter”, a witch in danger of being thrown out of her coven.

Word Count: ~ 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of rape, stillborn baby, pregnancy, abuse, branding, witches, sharp stuff, birth, death, major trauma and angst, injuries, ends kinda good tho (PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP W/ AZ AND READER)

A/N: Ok I feel like I’m scamming y’all bc reader is actually Az’s granddaughter but they have more of a father-daughter relationship in the ends…this is like super sad in the beginning but there’s comfort in the end and a bit of fluff, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

From the moment his shadows had begun whispering and speaking of rumors, Azriel hadn’t been surprised.

Of course, he was surrounded by rumors, he was the infamous shadowsinger, the Spymaster of Night Court who’d been alive for centuries and lived through several wars, a male who’d murdered thousands in his lifetime. But these rumors seemed a bit more real than the others, more realistic, or at least his shadows thought so.

‘She is small, with hazel eyes like ours’

They whispered to him, conjuring up images in his mind, images of a young teenage female, one of gleaming iron, with hazel eyes and midnight black hair.

He didn’t understand how or why he would have a child.

With any lover he took, he always ensured that the protection was flawless, whether it be condoms, birth control pills, or pulling out on time, he was careful with all of it. He knew he wasn’t ready for a child, and he didn’t want to have one anytime soon, let alone with a female he wasn’t mated with.

But there was one instance. One completely out of his control, an experience he would never forget.

It had been in the midst of the first Great War, he’d been sent on a mission, a secretive one to gather information, by Rhysand’s father, the High Lord at the time. It had all gone perfectly, he’d gotten in, and out, but he’d made a small pitstop on a little side of a high mountaintop to gather water, as he had been feeling a bit nauseous due to the lack of it for many hours.

The female had moved so quickly he hadn’t even been able to notice her until he was on the ground, and saw her iron teeth and nails come down over their normal counterparts a second too late before they were against his Jugular, the witch smiling wickedly above him as she crooned into his ear.

“Quite the catch. I haven’t seen a male like you in centuries,”

She had purred into his ear, her sharp nails tracing over where the Illyrian tattoos were visible on the lower half of his neck, and some of his shoulders. Overcome with nausea and fatigue from nonstop missions, not to mention the deadly witch that could easily slaughter him, he could do nothing but remain silent and blank as he could while the witch had her way with him. That was a key belief of their kind, that men were only good for breeding and food, nothing more.

He’d tried to forget about it, tried his very hardest, but now it seemed it was coming back to bite him. It was odd that his shadows hadn’t picked anything up sooner. That event had been nearly 300 years ago, and if that witch had somehow sired his child, survived the birth with the wings, and raised it…

He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it was just a mishap with a normal lover, not the sadistic witch who’d raped him so long ago.

And if it was….he’d find her.

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

Normal occurrences in the witch camps had always been chaotic, but you were bound to notice more when you were actively looking out for it.

Daily sparring, sharpening of iron teeth or nails, fights, meals, and hunting times. It had all been so painfully normal to you before you’d gotten pregnant. It had been a human man, one you’d met while scoping out a new area for the Matron. He’d been drunk, and you, like any other witch of your coven, had taken advantage of that fact.

He’d at least provided a decent meal afterward.

Carrying a witchling was a blessing from your gods, you knew it, and you were forever thankful for it. But that didn’t mean it was easy. You were usually stuck in the designated area for impregnated witches that were about to pop, which was fine. There was just one thing you were nervous about, one thing that might go wrong.

You had only heard the story once, how you’d been born with wings and your mother had been left ripped open and dead because of it, her birthing canal unable to adjust. The same wings that had been promptly ripped off for being improper. Death had probably been the best fate for the female that had once called you her daughter, giving birth to an improper or “wrong” child was worse, and you would be branded like cattle, and thrown to the side.

That could easily happen to you.

The chances were low, usually the only genes that carried so strongly through witch blood were the integral witch parts, what made you worthy and befitting of the coven. The chances of the child having wings were low, almost zero, but not zero.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was what your mother had been thinking, or her mother before her. The gene of wings had been in your bloodline almost three women back. They’d probably thought the same. That there wasn’t a chance, not one bit of one. Even though there had been, and she’d paid dearly for it

Every day dragged closer to the day, and as the others in the coven noticed the behavior, the swollen ankles, the lack of strength, shortness of breath, odd cravings, fatigue, or the morning sickness, the stricter the designated midwives became you staying inside of your bed.

The nerves grew, for multiple different reasons.

“This is a blessing,”

They’d tell you.

“You’re birthing the next generation of a strong coven,”

They said.

It was easy to listen to them, but not so easy to believe in what they’d said. Other females gave you tips, being oddly kind for your species and their volatile behavior. The midwives prepared you, giving you a blunt explanation of what would happen, as they did with all the other females about to give birth.

Finally, the day came.

At first, you thought you’d just pissed yourself when your water broke, but after a second of actual contemplation, you’d nearly panicked. The contractions started soon after, horrible awful things making your body cramp and lurch in ways you hadn’t even known possible beforehand. Your groans and moans joined those of the other woman also giving birth at the time. This was her first time, too. You’d briefly talked to her before.

“When are you due?”

“A month before the solstice.”

“….”

“Three weeks before the solstice.”

“Is this your first?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Me too.”

The female seemed as kind as a witch could be, with piercing blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. Your screams intertwined together, beds separated only by thin curtains in the large birthing tent with rows upon rows of beds and supplies.

It felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside out, some sort of feral creatures trying to claw their way out. Your nails dug into the bed, ripping and shredding the thick furs in a way most mothers didn’t. It felt like it was taking too long. You faintly heard crying, that of a baby, the other female’s child.

You pushed for what felt like hours, nurses hissing to push harder, faster, to be strong like a witch should and suffer through it. Like the other new mother beside your bed had done.

However, with a final push, the baby had emerged. You looked down at it, eyes stained with tears and sweat. There were no wings on the small, red thing, not even a hint of it.

And not a hint of crying, either.

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

“And..how long will you be gone?”

Rhysand asked him, with a raised brow and smooth tone, barely showing his curiosity. He never saw his shadowsinger this bothered. Azriel had been pacing nearly all morning and seemed distracted during training.

“Give me a day.”

The male responded, swallowing as he tried to stop his pacing, to stop seeming concerned. The stoic look remained on his face, despite his obvious worries through his body language.

“Very well…”

The High Lord replied, swirling the wine in his cup around before taking a small sip of it, gazing into the pool of dark red liquid, as if trying to find an answer to his questions in it.

“What are you up to, brother?”

He then asked, giving Azriel a curious but assessing look. Azriel only shook his head, heart beating faster than it should’ve as he left the office area, walking out of the townhouse, looking at the sparkling river that overlooked the Sidra, and took out the maps he’d acquired from one of the oldest sections in the House of Wind’s library.

He’d marked out a path in chalk, he would start where he’d first encountered that witch nearly three centuries ago, and he would go South from there, following evidence of migration patterns his shadows had managed to dig up.

It had been hours of endless flying, no sign of life on the mountain other than old, maybe a year ago, dirt disturbed, which could’ve easily been whatever wildlife could brave the heights of the mountain. He’d followed the pattern from there, his wings aching, the shadows whispering which way to go, but unable to aid him in his conquest. He was forced to stop for the night when a large storm blew in, thunder cracking down from the skies.

And so, setting up a fire in a small cave he’d found, Truth-Teller in his hand, he went to sleep for the night.

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

It had happened too quickly, you’d barely had time to understand why, but when you realized your child wasn’t crying, and the fact that he was too small and pale, you knew what had happened. A stillborn.

They brought out the brand before you could even try to get away, the nurses hissing and grumbling at your every struggle and begging and pleading as they took the red-hot iron, sinking it into your flesh, searing so deep that not even your witch blood could heal it enough to avoid the mark it left. The big, black, ugly symbol on the left of your stomach, read “Infertile”.

They’d dragged you through the camp as you’d screamed and sobbed, public humiliation at its finest, and carried you far from the camp, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to sniff them out or trace them back, dropping you on the forest floor.

“Waste of our time,”

You heard one of them grumble as they departed, leaving you alone and in the cold forest. You were still bleeding slightly, your teenage body struggling to recuperate from being split open. It got better as time went on, when you managed to struggle to your feet, knees about to give out, and began stumbling through the forest. Your head was fuzzy, not clear, and unable to focus properly as you registered warmth from a certain direction.

Warmth.

The word clanged through you like a bell despite the lightning and rain overhead, you began sniffing out the fire, picking up the faint scent of a male nearby. It didn’t matter. You could deal with the male later, but if you didn’t get warm now, you didn’t know if you could make it through the night.

A small cave came into sight, and stumbling into it, you found the warmth you so desperately desired, a small campfire lit.

However, before you could get closer to it, you registered being slammed to the ground, cold steel against your neck, and a pair of dark, hazel eyes looking into your own.

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

A witch.

And not just any witch, his daughter, his teenage daughter, bloodied and bruised, being pinned down beneath him. He had her wrists tied up in barely a second, he’d seen firsthand what those iron nails witches possessed could do to those who weren’t cautious.

The iron scent of her blood was obvious as well, and based on its location, she was either injured in a very bad place or menstruating, and he didn’t want to think of the only real possible answer. Another aspect of her scent was the smell of blooming life, the same one Feyre had possessed while pregnant with Nyx. A scent he couldn’t ignore.

“Who are you?”

He asked, Truth-Teller being placed back on his side as he carefully picked the female up, placing her down near the campfire to give her shivering and soaking wet form some warmth.

“I just — she wasn’t crying and they —“

You sobbed, as if not hearing his question, burying your head into your arms. It didn’t take Azriel long to piece together what had happened, and he knew that you needed medical attention.

“Hold still,”

He muttered, stamping out the fire and gathering the few things he’d brought, before gently lifting you into his arms, and in a swirl of shadows and magic, you were somewhere completely new. He watched you carefully as he hurried to Madja’s tent. Your eyes were closed as you sobbed, and if he was assuming what had happened correctly, you had reason to.

The old female, always reliable with their medical issues, was in her tent, mixing up some concoction, her eyes widened as she laid eyes on you but then went right back to normal, into medic mode, where she couldn’t panic and risk making a mistake or scaring anyone.

“Lay her down.”

Her voice rang out, and Azriel obediently obeyed, laying you on the table and watching, his anxiety evident in the way he paced back and forth, swallowing. Madja began examining you, taking the restraints on your hands and your clothes off, and when he spotted the brand, the dark mark burnt into your skin that looked all too fresh, his temper flared beyond control and he growled. Madja gave him a look.

“If you can’t control yourself, then leave.”

Her sharp tone rang out, and he huffed, but knowing that his anger wouldn’t solve anything, he walked out of the tent, sparing your barely conscious form one last glance as you groaned, clearly in discomfort.

…

“You have a what?”

Cassian’s confused and shocked tone rang out from behind Rhys and Azriel. Az sighed. The bastard must’ve snuck in when they weren’t looking. Rhys looked a bit worried, and Azriel felt more anxious than he’d been in centuries.

“A daughter, she’s a…witch.”

Cassian choked on his spit at that, watching Azriel’s frantic pacing. Rhys put his hand on the shadowsinger’s shoulder, stopping his constant movement in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’ll be fine, Azriel. We’ll work this out.”

“She could die, Rhys. I think she’d just given birth when I found her, it went wrong somehow, and those other witches marked her. They fucking marked her.”

Azriel snapped, eyes filled with such anguish, anger, and grief already that neither of them knew what to say, except to remain silent and think about the situation they were in and how to make it better.

Cassian carefully approached Azriel, with a look and demeanor he’d seen before. It was like he saw him as a wounded animal, like a soldier after the battle, scarred and mentally torn apart.

“All we can do is wait and see, Az.”

His voice, a bit softer than usual, though still gruff, spoke. His eyes held sympathy and understanding, as did Rhys’, but also caution and concern. A witch was dangerous. They knew that just as well as anyone.

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

The first thing you registered was that you were in a lot of pain, with stitches being put in your body, and needles being poked every which way. You groaned and shifted, only for old, worn hands to put you right back into place, and a vague voice telling you to “stop moving.” before you felt another needle on the inside of your wrist, and you fell back into sleep again.

The next time you woke, you felt more numb this time, opening your eyes to be met with the sight of a room, ornate, the floor a rich red carpet with patterns on it, the ceiling wooden and going upwards to a point. There was some bland wooden furniture in the room, one mirror, and a large window that light bled through despite the light curtains on it.

A male was sitting beside you. Two of them. Three. They were talking amongst themselves. You hadn’t opened your eyes yet, content to listen.

“— but they gave her up, didn’t they?”

“Technically, yes. I think it’s well within our rights to keep her here if they moved her out of the camp.”

“So she’s ours?”

“She is no one’s.”

The dark voice that cut through the conversation finally made you open your eyes. You recognized that, and his scent…it was familiar, somehow. As soon as you opened your eyes and began to shift, they were all at attention, watching closely.

One in particular stood out to you, the dark male, shrouded by shadows, hazel eyes that resembled your own. All three had wings, leathery bat-like things, one of the males was more brusque and muscular, offering a little grin, the other looking more proper like a pretty Court boy, with his violet eye. All of them had dark hair.

You stared until the shadowy one spoke.

“What’s your name?”

He asked lowly, voice smooth and soothing. His scarred hands twitched up as if wanting to hold you or touch you, or anything he could to fix you.

“Y/N.”

You answered, swallowing as you tried to sit up, wincing as you felt the clothes that had been put on you, similar to a hospital gown, rub against the stitches in your body, and the branding on your stomach. The minute a hint of discomfort entered your expression, the scarred hands of the male were there, gently helping ease you up as you sat against the headboard of the bed, probably looking like death. The minute you were sat up, his hands went away, as if he realized what he had done.

“Sorry.”

He muttered, hands retreating into his lap from the chair. The other male, the violet-eyed one, then cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m Rhysand,”

He said with a small polite smile, clearly faked, as you could smell how unsure he was, even a bit anxious, as it was in his scent. The brusque-looking one then spoke up with a wolf’s grin, one that wasn’t faked at all.

“Cassian,”

He said before you turned to face the last one. He swallowed, looking a bit anxious.

“Azriel. I’m..your father, or related to you somehow.”

Your brow scrunched in confusion, eyes glancing back at his wings. He might have been your father, but not likely, given how long the trait of wings had been in your bloodline. From what you knew, it had started with your grandmother, then passed to your mother, then you. You sighed, looking uncomfortable but speaking.

“How many years ago was it?” How many years has it been since you fucked a witch?

He swallowed, now looking more uncomfortable, and Cassian snorted, clearly just thinking his eldest brother had gone off and had some fun with a witch, while Rhys shot the male a glare.

“Three centuries.”

He got out quietly, the tiniest of blushes on his cheeks. Your mind was spinning, but you managed to get one coherent thought out.

“You’re my grandfather.”

You said in a dry, clearly uncomfortable tone. Cassian couldn’t stop his laughter at that, even when Rhys elbowed him hard.

“He’s got a grandkid! I don’t believe it —“

He wheezed until Rhys shot Azriel and you an apologetic look, grumbling something to Azriel as he dragged him out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The shadowsinger seemed relieved to be alone with you.

“I’m sorry about what happened, with..everything, I should’ve been there-“

“Don’t. You probably didn’t even know I existed.”

You cut him off, your tired voice still firm. You let your iron nails slide out if only to check that they were still there and undamaged. They were shiny and sharp as ever, untouched. They slid back up as if never there, and you yawned, going to lay back down in the bed. He helped you lay down, scarred hands lingering and taking your hand into his own as he looked into your eyes, multiple emotions mingling inside.

You sighed, giving a tiny tug to his hand.

“C’mere.”

You said, and he easily obliged, tossing his shoes to the floor, but leaving his shirt and pants on as he crawled into the bed beside you, cradling your body gently against his. His hands made sure to avoid the brand on you, the fresh stitches, but they brushed over the large scars on your back from where your wings had been ripped off when you were born.

“You had wings?”

He asked, a pain clear in his voice as your head lay against his chest.

“Had.”

You replied, the exhaustion clear in your tone. Anger flared up in him, for those witches for laying a finger on you, taking your wings and branding you, for them treating you so horribly.

“I’ll never let them touch you again, I promise.”

He said, an inky black marking forming on his back, and on yours, that of a star forming with swirls all around and in it, right between the scars on your back. You gave a little hum of acknowledgment, head moving up to bury itself in his neck, deeply inhaling his scent.

It smelt like home, at last.

[hunnyrants]

A/N welcome to part 2 thats been written for like 4 months but was forgotten about entirely 🤠 oops? not proofread, we die like men.

Pairing: Azriel X Cadre!Reader

Summary: After a few days in the night court with your mate, you have nightmares triggered by the unfamiliar environment.

Warnings: PTSD, trauma induced nightmares, mentions of dying, mental torture, dissociation, angst, fear of the dark

Nightmare Pt. 2

Azriel's hands were trembling. Cassian noticed them immediately after he broke down the massive oak doors. Alarm had filled him once the house's lights began flickering as he was readying for bed and the doors threw open on their own. Even more so when he'd run in and seen you unconscious and clutched protectively in his arms as if you might slip away from him at any second. The room was trashed as well, but even that seemed secondary when the scent of his highlord was fresh in the room and nowhere to be seen.

Cassian opened his mouth to ask for Rhys’ whereabouts, when the muted sound of retching filled the room- Azriel curled tighter around you at the sound. Cass turns towards the set of doors leading to your closet and bathing room, striding towards them immediately before knocking furiously.

“Rhys?”

A beat of silence.

“A minute, please.”

Taken aback slightly by the curt response, Cassian turns back towards Azriel who has his nose and mouth pressed against the side of his mate's head. His wings curled around the two of you as a barrier but low enough that he can still see over them and into the room beyond. The incessant ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed to be a hammer taken to a coffin, Cass had counted up to nearly a hundred before Rhys finally stepped out of the washroom.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but glanced at Azriel who had yet to make note of his entrance into the room.

“I felt her blood oath,” was all that came out.

“To the fire breathing bitch queen? That must've been rough,” Cass says, an attempt at brightening the mood. Stars guttered in Rhys’ eyes though.

“Yes, but there was an older one,” he shakes his head and drags a hand over his mouth. Cassian helps himself to the small bar near the fireplace of your rooms and pours Rhys a finger's worth of whiskey. He pauses for a moment, glancing at Azriel. Would he even notice if there was a drink put in front of him?

Likely not, not with the slight tremors that even the feared shadowsinger couldn't hide. And definitely not with the glare he's leveling at Rhys.

“It… fuck,” Rhys presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets and pushes deeply, causing spots to appear across his vision that nearly blend in with the frantic shadows that are swarming around the unconscious female.

Cassian pours Azriel a drink finally and sets it on the nightstand before handing Rhys his. Rhys sets it down without drinking it and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“It was just an echo of what was once there. But it ran deep.” Rhys takes a deep breath, ”Her old master was daemati, and wielded shadows as well.”

A low growl comes from deep in Az's chest in response, making Cass raise his brows and his brother droop more somehow. A roaring begins in his head as he contemplates what could have been so bad to have Rhys this rattled, he hasn't been like this since Nesta had her own nightmares a year prior.

Cassian was very glad then that Nesta had listened and stayed behind in their shared room.

“She was the queen's right hand, had the blood oath and her own mind used against her,” he pauses again and seems to brace himself. Rhysand raises his head and catches his brother's eye.

“Azriel is going to react badly.” the highlord's voice ringing clearly through the general's head. A subtle order and one not easily given. Cassian widens his stance and braces himself for the storm.

“She was enslaved for over 500 years-” he says finally, “-I reminded her of it enough that it triggered flashbacks.”

The room dropped several degrees as Azriel's shaking worsened and his grip shifted against you. A scarred hand sliding into your hair and tucking your head against the side of his neck, all while his eyes appeared to freeze over as he stared daggers at his highlord.

Cauldron and Mother above, the silence was unbearable.

Rhys put his hands up in a placating gesture, “Az-”

“No.” Helfrost seemed to coat the word as it left the shadowsinger's mouth.

“Not one more word Rhysand.”

The highlord of the night court winced. At the use of his full name and the fact it was his own brother who used it against him.

“Az, it's not like he did it on purpose,” Cassian attempted. “We didn't know. None of us could have.”

A humorless laugh left Azriel then.

“And yet Rhys saw fit to push so hard into her mind she couldn't even tell me herself.”

A pit formed in Cassian's stomach then, he hadn't considered that would have crossed his brother's mind.

“Because my magic is- was similar to the queens, her mind caved in easier than I expected.” Rhysand continues with a wave towards his face, “My physical attributes were another trigger. Black hair and even similar eye color, I think it was made worse when she saw me after her nightmare.”

“It was all bad.” He finishes, keeping his eyes on the male who looked torn between leaping across the room and throttling him and clutching the warrior in his arms.

Cassian moves to sit opposite Rhys in the plush forest green armchairs of your room. Angling himself to leap between the males if necessary.

“Where is Nesta?” Azriel breathes finally, his thumb brushing against the nape of your neck as his fingers gently scratch at your scalp. As if the soothing gesture might fix everything happening right now.

Cass stiffens and can't help his own instincts to protect his mate. “Waiting for me- did- do you want her here?”

Azriel closes his eyes and nods.

“She'll be safer with Nesta than anyone else here currently.”

“They will make for quite the duo,” Rhys says, the darkness in his eyes seeming to spread further. Azriel's lips pull back in a silent snarl when Cassian stands and claps Az on the shoulder, careful not to jostle him.

“Welcome to the ‘my mate has scary powers club’, brother,” Cass grins.

Rhysand heaves a long, suffering sigh as his eyes grow distant, contacting Nesta mind to mind rather than sending Cassian. Just in case Azriel decided he wanted to avenge any pain his mate was put in.

It took no more than a couple heartbeats to pass before Nesta shoves through the splintered door, her night slippers crunching against the pieces. Her silver eyes surveyed the trashed room quickly and ataraxia pulses gently with light in her hand.

Azriel cradling you against his chest with your legs strewn over his lap, perched on the side of the large bed built to accommodate wings and the dark teal bedding strewn about haphazardly. Nesta assessed her mate for injuries but quickly dismissed him as fine when she noticed the dark energy seemingly radiating off of Rhysand.

“Is the commander alright?” She asks finally, her quicksilver eyes catching hazel ones.

“Will you watch her for me?” Azriel dodges coldly but not unkindly.

Nesta nods and strides towards the bed where Azriel hesitates to part from the female despite his request. Eventually he does adjust you so you're laying properly on the bed and Nesta settles on the other side after setting her blade against the side of the bed. Nesta turns towards you then, brushing a lock of hair from your relaxed face and settles a cold soothing hand against your hot to the touch shoulder.

It was that movement alone that reassured Azriel enough to stand finally, his knees popping after being curled uncomfortably for too long.

“Tell me everything Rhysand, or I'm going to fucking lose it.”

Even Nesta looked at the highlord with pity as the words finished sounding, realizing they were all in for a long night.

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Inertia

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: "Hello, I just finished reading your most recent Az work & it was so wonderful ❤️ & I was wondering if you are still taking requests? If so, I was thinking maybe one where reader is helping Az into his leathers and like tying all his armor into place and stuff before he goes off to the war (or just a dangerous mission) and then after he comes back reader also helps him take it all off & just go to bed🥺❤️ If you have time or feel inspired to write this, I would appreciate it."

Warnings: blood, descriptions of gore, knives, cuts, vivid descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of scars, nudity, nightmares, bruises, kissing, very much off canon, pretty much just hurt comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Thank you very much to the person who requested this to me. I am so sorry I cannot find your username anymore, but I hope I have done justice to your idea. And of course thank you to my readers for all the love on my recent fics :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(pic credit to pinterest)

The Spymaster of the Night Court liked to think he was split in half. Two persons in one body.

The first, the Shadowsinger. Carynthian. One of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. Member of the most powerful High Lord's inner circle. Servant of his shadows and infamous throughout all of Prythian.

The second, completely, utterly, entirely owned by the female in his arms.

Your breaths spanned across his chest like waves on sand, spreading across his skin like water, leaving trails of chills in their wake. Your nude body was warm, silky, and serene, rested completely on top of him as if you were holding him down against his will.

In reality, Azriel prayed he died like this. Fully encapsulated by you and only you.

Your body rose as he inhaled and lowered as he exhaled. Your tiny squeaks of breath were a rush of blood to his head. He continually ran his scarred hands across your back and down your spine as you slept, soaking in the feeling of your skin and the storm within his chest at bay. He knew it wouldn't be for long.

He seemed to always be running out of time.

As the minutes ticked on, made apparent by the wooden clock next to his bed, he could feel the first half of his self slowly taking over the second. He could feel the blood lust, the cool rage, the hardening of his heart already beginning to take place. With his mate in his arms, it felt wrong, like he was holding glass his body was itching to drop.

Because of this, he kissed you.

"Y/N," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. "Y/N."

He was met with a lucid groan deep within your throat, and he kissed you again.

"I have to go."

With those words your eyes opened, and Az was blinded by their radiance, as he is every day. The area around your eyes was slightly puffed from sleep, adding to the intimacy and mundanity of simply waking up together. Azriel wished he could drink it. Pour it into a glass to perhaps sip on later, when the half of himself he was becoming less and less proud of as the years went on became too much.

You rubbed at said eyes, your body heat against his warming at your increasing blood flow. You leaned forward, propping yourself up and away from him. He sat up with you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He was desolate without your touch, desperate for as much of it as he could have before having to leave it.

"I'm up," you whispered, yawning. "I'm up."

He chuckled and tucked his mouth against your neck, kissing just underneath your jaw. The softest, most favorite area of his to kiss on you. Your pulse thumping against his lips. Your very life against his mouth.

He was going to fucking miss you.

You pulled him away from you to give his lips a peck before scooting down to the edge of the bed, standing completely up, and stretching your spine and shoulders. Rolling them backwards and forwards, side to side. The line down your back was accentuated as you did this, as well as the shade of your skin in the rising sun.

If Azriel had the choice, he would have kept you in that bedroom all day, and all night, and for all of eternity.

You then made your way across the room to a cushioned chair, draped with every piece of his leathers laid out and ready. He hated the look of it - these agents of carnage on such delicate fabric. It felt absurd, almost sinister.

What was worse was the image of you walking towards them and lifting his tunic into your arms. You faced him, holding it at the ready, and he got up from bed with a sigh. It was deep, bottomless.

He stayed standing anyway.

He walked to you, also nude, and held eye-contact as he did. Your eyes were sunken and sad, but in a way that was not vibrant or pungent. It was in a way that showed you were used to this sadness and fear, that you and your body knew how to handle it.

Always running out of time.

He held up his arms and you slid the tunic over his head. You then turned back around and retrieved his pants, allowing him to step into them. As you buttoned them securely, making sure they were tight enough for his comfort, you began to speak.

"Where to today?" you asked, and despite the dread growing in his stomach, he smiled.

You always asked him for details of his missions before he left for them, desperate for any and every characteristic of them. He always wondered why you did this. He didn't know if you wanted an image of everything that could go wrong, everything that could go right, or even a bit of both.

Part of him wanted to know, but most of him did not.

"Rhys is worried," Azriel replied. "Beron is getting worse, according to Eris anyway, and plans on meeting with the mortal queens in the Autumn Court tonight at dusk. Eris is meant to sneak me in so I can get a read on what they're planning."

You hummed, finishing off his pants and reaching behind you to add his vest. You then began adding his padding, and your eyes remained focused on his body.

"You don't like that?"

You shrugged. "I don't trust Eris."

He nodded, helping you smooth the vest down comfortably to his body. "I wish I could disagree with you."

You looked up at him then, leaving your hands on his pecks. "You shouldn't be going alone."

"I have to," he replied. "Cassian can't be incognito for shit."

You smiled faintly, but the dull fear remained.

"Besides, I'm never alone," he said, gesturing behind him. "My shadows will keep me safe, alert me if something is going wrong, and protect me."

Your breath was warm against his face as you said, "And you will get out of there if they tell you to, if your gut is telling you to."

He held your face in his hands. "I will get out of there, and I will come back home."

You nodded, still unconvinced, but kissed him anyway.

You then added his pauldrons to his legs and thighs, smoothing them against his pants and assisting him with his boots, before finally latching on his shoulder and stomach spaulder. He could feel some tension relieve on your shoulders as you did this, allowing the knowledge that despite entering enemy territory, he was still protected. His heart and vital organs were protected by the best Rhysand could get.

He could see a little bit of his mate come back into herself as you processed that knowledge. It wasn't enough, he knew that, but it helped you, and that was more than enough for him.

You gave the covering a quick jab, both to test the strength and cut the tension, sending Az staggering back a few steps. You both smiled at each other as he found his footing.

"How does a warning sound for next time?" he chuckled.

"Tell that to your fancy shadows," you countered, and he shook his head, his eyes a glowing gold.

Never enough time.

You then picked up his gloves from the cushioned chair, and held the pair of them in one hand while taking his left hand in the other. You rubbed a thumb down his scars, tracing each divot and crease, before pressing a swift kiss to his palm. You then pulled the matching glove on over the skin, and repeated the process with his right hand.

That act, that simple kiss and touch, was more intimate and profound than any act of sex the two of you had ever and would ever share to him. It showed him that you acknowledged it for what it was - painful, foreign, damaged - but also saw it for its beauty. Its symbolism of survival and strength. Its necessity for him to become the male he was today.

It's safe to say he cried like a true Illyrian baby when you kissed him like that the first time, and teared up every time after that.

After his gloves were on him comfortably, you put on the finishing touches of his leathers before taking a few steps back, you admiring him, and him admiring you. Him wrapped in wealth and power, shadow and danger, death and cool, icy focus on his objective. You, bare to him, soft, vulnerable, pure, stripped clean of anything and everything except for who you truly were.

On Azriel's dark days, he believed that in that moment, you both were who you truly were.

You looked him up and down, the playfulness and peace from a few moments before slowly dissipating from the air, and he pulled you back to him when he saw the fear enter your eyes again. The rough leather against your soft skin made him feel dirty, nauseous even at the thought of you getting anywhere close to the person he became when he wore them, but he pushed the feeling to the side as best as he could.

"I will come home," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "I will come home."

You nodded, eyes slowly lining with tears, and he elected to console you with touch. Bestowing kisses against your hairline, down your temples, across your cheeks, down your nose, and nearly against your lips.

Never to your lips. It was his silent promise that he would be back, and he would kiss you well.

He pressed one last kiss against your mouth before departing from the room, not looking back, the first half of his personhood taking control, and the cool focus of the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court overtook his being completely.

~*~

Azriel's wish came true. He could disagree with you about not trusting Eris, because he was the only reason Azriel got out of there undetected, unscathed, and uninjured.

Azriel did not, however, trust him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The entire way there and back, constantly vague, rogue comments about Mor never telling anyone the full story of what happened between her and him, how Rhys was too much unchecked power, and how Nesta would be much happier elsewhere.

Azriel's heart went out to the male, knowing how he was treated at home and the abuse he had endured from his father, but that didn't mean he never wanted to clock his teeth in.

Despite the fact that Azriel was coated in sweat and mud, exhausted beyond belief, his inertia that was fueled by adrenaline was slowly fading, and that he desperate to be horizontal, when Eris suggested stopping at an Inn until morning, Azriel would not budge.

"I'm going home," he responded, "with or without you, I'm going home."

Eris was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

After days that felt like weeks, Azriel was at your doorstep - sore, tired, but so fucking happy he could barely contain himself. He knocked, a pattern of one-two-one, but the door nearly flew off its hinges before his second beat. He was met with only a flash of your face through his hazed, swollen eyes, before you wrapped yourself around him, colliding with him in an embrace unique to lovers. One of complete surrender and relief, and he met you head on, holding you so tight to him he raised you off the ground and could feel your ribs squeezing against him so harshly it was painful for the both of you.

Neither of you felt any pain, only relief, and true completeness.

He tucked his head in your neck, listening to your pulse and kissing that spot he loved so much, as you ran your hands through his hair.

"Azriel," you whispered against him, "Azriel."

He put you down and looked into your eyes. "What?"

You smiled, only mischief, play, and knowing written on your face. A look that said, "pay up."

He gladly obliged.

He didn't kiss you softly, or slowly, or reverently. He kissed you like he had been wanting to for days - hungrily. He was starving, aching for you in a way that he was unable to describe. It was down to his bones, the tether in his chest clamoring to connect with its other half.

He felt whole again, and he wanted the feeling forever.

His kisses slowed down as he pushed you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him without leaving your lips. The two of you could not stop fucking smiling as you moved into the bedroom, and he sat himself down on the cushioned chair. You climbed onto his lap, kissing him with only love, only passion.

You slowly pulled away after a few more short kisses to frame his face with your hands, caressing his skin, looking into his eyes, reaffirming what you already knew.

The most beautiful male you had ever known was completely, utterly, entirely yours.

You could not deny, however, that his under-eyes were a dark shade of violet, as well as the area around them puffy and red.

He was tired.

"Come on," you whispered, climbing off of him. "Stand up."

You pulled him to his feet, his stance unsteady and weak, and began to pull his leathers off, piece by piece. You set them back onto the chair behind you delicately, but quickly, as the male standing before was practically sleeping standing up.

He couldn't help it. His chest was warm. His heart was full. His love was back in his arms.

After removing every inch down to his tunic and boots, he pulled you back up to his mouth, and you kissed him softly. Your fingertips lined his jaw while his gripped your waist.

You kissed him once, twice, three times before pulling away. "You need to sleep."

He blinked, then blinked again. Like he was trying to wake up from a dream. "You're right."

You chuckled and led him to bed, helping him to lay down. You then stripped yourself of all your clothing and tucked yourself in beside him. His eyes were already closed, his breaths were already evening, but with one last burst of energy, he pulled you into his chest, laying you on top of him the same way he did on your final morning together. He kissed you one last time, and you could have sworn he was asleep already when he mumbled against your mouth.

"Told you I'd come home."

You smiled against his neck, listening to the sounds of him in sleep and whispered, "I missed you."

For once, the two of you had all the time in the world.

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[rowaelinsdaughter]

Hii... Dorian x reader please? When Aelin and her court and Manon are in Adarlan and she feels insecure about them and doesn't want to meet them (maybe because she's just a human and thinks she's not good as them) so she makes excuses to stay in her room and Dorian finds out?

my present

a/n; thank u anon for this!!! hope youre okay. love u.

WARNINGS; insecurity, bad thoughts, angst(?) to fluff

you met dorian after the war.

the psychological wounds caused by this and by everything that happened before were still present, but it was no impediment for you since you took care of him and were with him in the moments where he needed someone the most.

of course, you knew that dorian was with manon, the queen of witches and one of the most beautiful women there was... although you had never seen her, just as you had never seen aelin ashryver galathynius, the queen of terrasen. but as dorian had told you, they were both among the most beautiful immortals there were... and they would be here in a week.

ever since dorian told you that manon and aelin and their court were going to come to adarlan, you couldn't stop thinking about how ridiculous you felt. anxiety and negative thoughts became recurrent throughout the week. you didn't want to meet them so as not to make dorian look ridiculous. if they really were as beautiful as they said and one of them was even with him... you didn't want to think about that.

different scenarios haunted you in dreams. them laughing at you, aelin's court looking at you up and down like you were a weirdo... dorian being ashamed of you after introducing you. that was your worst nightmare.

from your window you see how aelin's entourage arrived on horseback. she and rowan at the head and her court behind. god she was beautiful, more than you had imagined. a soft flutter reaches you and in the distance you see a shadow approaching... no, not a shadow. wyverns. getting closer and closer, you make out manon's white hair. when it lands, you feel your hands start to shake and a lump forms in your throat. people said they were beautiful, but it wasn't anywhere close. they were devastating. goddesses. you can't leave the room. you can't make a fool of yourself.

you hear a knock on the door and you turn in time to see dorian enter. his well-combed hair contrasts with the gold of his crown and his navy blue suit hugs every part of his body, creating a second skin. beautiful.

dorian smiles when he sees that you have been looking at him without blinking. “i already know I'm beautiful, you don't need to keep looking at me.”

you look away quickly and a blush appears on your cheeks. "sorry"

dorian frowns. “are you still not dressed? i thought you would be ready.”

“ah yes, I just don't feel very well”

dorian approaches you worried. "oh really? do you need me to call someone? do you need a healer to look at you?”

“no no no, don't worry dorian, i just have a headache.”

"sure?"

“yes dorian, i'm sure. go on, go with them.”

he leaves a kiss on your forehead and, not very convinced, leaves. you don't know when you've stopped breathing, but you let out a sigh and go to bed.

what you don't know is that dorian had noticed you strange ever since he said manon and aelin were coming, and this was what he needed to confirm what he suspected. you were insecure

the afternoon passed and you were still in the room. at that moment you were reading a book from your bookshelf.

the door opens and dorian appears with a dress in his hands, some shoes and a crown.

you swallow, putting the book aside to sit up.

“i brought you this so you can wear it.”

you open your mouth to answer but dorian takes your hand and brings it to his lips, sitting next to you on the bed.

“you don't have to lie to me, you know? and you don't have to stay here either. i love you, you know? you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen in my entire life. you don't have to have the best hair, you don't have to look like a goddess because i love you just the way you are. i adore your lips, your freckles, i adore the way your eyes shine every time you read a scene that you love. i adore the softness of your hands every time you hold my hand. i adore you just the way you are.”

dorian wipes a tear from your cheek as he caresses it and rests his hand on it.

“i don't want you to change, and i don't want you to think that i'm going to leave you alone because i was with manon. that's the past. and i want my present”

“what is your present?”

"my present is you"

you throw yourself into his arms and feel dorian's arms surround your figure. you hide your face in his neck breathing in his scent.

“and now i want you to get up, put on the dress i brought you and go out with your head held high.”

“i love you dorian.”

“i love you too, doll.”

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[allyjoe755]

These Small Hours

fenrys x reader

A/N: Chosen by polls. If you would like another poll-chosen story, like/reblog/comment below

Word Count: 513

Warnings: slight PTSD.

o-o-o

You woke up to screams.

Big, horrible, gasping shrieks in the middle of the night.

Your eyes snapped open as adrenaline filled your chest, quickly spreading to the rest of your body.

Oh, Gods, please, no—

Lying beside you, Fenrys’ eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks wet with tears, his body dampened by sweat. His fingers raked across the sheets of the bed, his chest heaving with large breaths.

In your chest, your heart tore ever so slightly.

You placed a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, your thumb moving back and forth.

“Fenrys,” you began softly. “Fenrys, it’s alright.” 

You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso.

“Fenrys, it’s just a dream. Fenrys.”

Even in his sleep, he shuffled to wrap an arm around you. It helped. His breathing was still quick and ragged, but slowly and surely, it was slowing. His cries were softer now. They would fade soon enough, you knew.

It helped to not wake him up during times like these. You had learned that the hard way, when you, not having experienced this before, had in a panic shaken him awake– causing his panic to grow, small injuries to occur, for him to lose substantial sleep for nearly a week.

You had apologized profusely for weeks after. Fenrys had only said that it was his fault the nightmares happened in the first place.

But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, and it had taken months to convince him of that. Even now, you were sure there were times when he still doubted. That was alright. You knew that it would take time.

Just like this. It had taken you so many times, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, to realize how to best support Fenrys when nights like these came.

So, for now, you just let your head rest on Fenrys’ chest. His cries had ended. You listened to his heartbeat slow back to an even, steady, calm rhythm. Your own body calmed down from its abrupt awakening as Fenrys breathed in and out, in and out.

Perhaps, in the morning, he would tell you what he had dreamt– the terrors that had visited him in the night. There were days he would, and days he wouldn’t. You didn’t push him.

He would heal in his own time. For now, you would walk alongside him through it.

In his sleep, Fenrys ran his hand down your arm until he found your hand. He squeezed it.

“I’m here,” you whispered back. You weren’t sure, if through his sleep, he heard you. In fact, you were quite positive that he couldn’t. Even still, you spoke the words– said them out loud, even if it was just to remind yourself that you weren’t going anywhere.

The man beside you was broken, and bruised, but it didn’t make him any less whole. It didn’t make him any less loved.

You pressed a kiss to the skin above Fenrys’ heart.

It didn’t make him any less capable of love.

“I’m here,” you repeated, before allowing yourself to fall back into sleep.

[danikamariewrites]

Right Where You Left Me

Dorian x reader

A/n: this takes place like halfway through Throne of Glass when shit starts to get really crazy lol. Dorian is another character that deserves the world but the world doesn’t deserve him.

Warnings: Angst

It had been months that you had this weird feeling that Dorian was keeping something from you. You tried to get him to talk about it but he wouldn’t open up to you. You tried to follow him during the day, and at night even but you were never successful.

Today you have finally reached your limit. You knew it had to do with the champions contest for the king. Dorian didn’t want you anywhere near that mess but you didn’t care. There was dangerous and creepy stuff happening all over the castle, people were dying!

If you couldn’t be near it, then you wanted him away from that mess too. You couldn’t bear to lose Dorian for something so stupid, especially if his father was involved.

You stood outside his room, taking a deep breath praying you didn’t cry once you saw him, and knocked. You entered without waiting for a response from your boyfriend.

Dorian was sitting at his desk, pouring over a large ancient book. He looked up as you got closer to him. He noticed you were upset, “y/n, what’s wrong?”

You weren’t going to hold back. You were always honest with each other and that wasn’t going to stop now. “I don’t think I can do this anymore Dorian.” His eyes widened in shock and worry. You could tell he wasn't expecting this. He stands, taking your hands in his.

You close your eyes and gently pull away from him, you don't want to touch him again, not when you knew it would be the last time. “You’re keeping secrets from me, and it’s killing me.” Guilt takes over his face. Like he knew this conversation was coming.

“There’s weird shit going on around here. And that damned contest is the root of the problem. I know you said you didn’t want me around it and that’s fine I don’t want any part of that.” Taking a shuddering breath you continue, “But, I can’t stand by while you put yourself in danger too.”

Dorian stuffs his hands in his pockets, “Chaol is always with me, I’m perfectly safe.” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter if Chaol is with you or not. I have a bad feeling about all of this.” Tears start falling fast. “Dorian, I can’t keep worrying about you. You won’t tell me what’s really going on and quite frankly, I don’t even want to know anymore.” Dorian looks down at his feet, you can feel the guilt coming off him.

“You’re sneaking off, getting into weird situations with Chaol and Lillian, and we’re not even spending time together anymore.” There was finality in your tone. You could tell Dorian knew there was no changing your mind but he had to try.

“I’m sorry y/n. Please, please let me make it up to you. I can’t lose you.” He steps closer to you but just back away, shaking your head.

You wipe at your face trying to stop the tears still falling. “There’s nothing to do. We’re past that. I want to break up, Dorian. I think it’s for the best.” Truly, he knew it was too. Dorian knew deep down there was something bigger than a few strange murders and odd marks on the walls. And whatever was coming he wanted you far away from it.

Even if you didn’t love him anymore he would always love you. If something ever happened to you he would never forgive himself. He nods, “I am truly sorry, for everything. And if this is what’s best…” he couldn’t finish his sentence. It was too painful letting you go. And saying it made it real.

All you could do was nod. You walk towards the door before you break down. If you did break down you knew he would comfort you and that wasn’t fair to either of you.

Before you shut the door you looked at the prince one last time, “Goodbye, Dorian. I’m sorry too.”

As soon as the door shut Dorian began to cry. He would never forgive himself for how things ended between you two.

[it-was-written-in-the-stars]

♡Dorian Havilliard x reader♡

A song for those who weep

Chapter two ○●○

Warning(s): contains mild spoilers for throne of glass and crown of midnight by SJM, angst

Word count: 1270

[Characters featured in this story do not belong to me]

♡♡♡

He stumbled over the threshold, his gaze flitting through the unnaturally empty room. Realisation struck him like a powerful wave. A rock colliding with the surface of a still lake, sending rings of water cascading outwards. You were gone. Vanished. As though the wind had picked you up and carried you away from him. He reverted back to when he had last seen you. He vividly recalled that vivacious smile which had decorated your face. What had provoked you to leave without a farewell?

He felt hollow, as though his insides had been carved out and he was cast aside as just a husk of a human being. Had his father done something to you?

A pile of leather bound journals lay on your four poster bed, its weight supported by a thick burnished book, letters engraved with gold decorating the cracked spine and cover. 'A song for those who weep'.

◇◇◇

You loosed a breath, aiming for the Palace library where you had intended to meet with Dorian. The interaction you had shared still buzzed around you, fluttering gracefully like the wings of a butterfly. It felt so natural to share such moments with him, to be around him. "I've missed you"

Your fleeting moment of elation was interrupted as you took note of one highly portentous thing. It was wrong of you to think something could blossom between the two of you. Afterall, his heart belonged to another.

You became painfully aware of another presence as you strode through the second floor corridor. She moved like the breeze, swift and unyielding.

"Celaena, it's lovely to see you" you muse as she falls into step beside you. She gives you a sceptical look, as though she doubted the sencerity of your words. "I need your help" she states, successfully blocking off your path. You quirk a brow, visibly intruiged. "I must inform you of something important but not here- there are far too many prying eyes" Celaena mutters, itching closer before looping your arm through hers. You fumble trying to evade whatever conversation awaited you, highlighting that you were in the midst of completing a highly cardinal task, but she brushes aside your complaints, opting to haul you into her lavish chambers.

It was just like how you had remembered it, the sprawling lounge fitted near the ornate golden fireplace. That same floccose rug spread out across a deep oak floor. An open doorway leading to her bedroom, and that beautiful wall mural tieing the arrangement together with a soft silk ribbon.

Your gaze lingers on that damned back wall. The place where you had last seen them. Exchanging a heated gesture of sizzling romance. A reciprocated one, unlike the cold hard blow you had received. If Celaena noticed a change in your demeanour, she didn't mention it.

She sucked in a breath, her eyebrows furrowing. "There is something rotten in Adarlan- and I intend to unearth what it is" Celaena began, her back straightening.

"But to do so I need more allies- and you are one of the few people I can trust to aid my cause". A grin stretches across her face as she peers over at your positively baffled expression. "I'm glad to see you back in the palace- there has been an absurd amount of testosterone circulating around here" she drawled. You blink. Once. Twice.

When the assassin had first waltzed over the threshold to the Glass Palace, she had swiftly barrelled into your tight knit group of friends. The two of you appeared to be tied at the hip, never missing a beat and dancing to your own boisterous songs. But she had known. She had been well aware of your feelings towards the Crown Prince. It hadn't just been heartbreak that had induced you to leave. It was also betrayal.

You took a steadying breath. She was your friend. You couldn't blame her for falling for Dorian. Right? It was your duty to help her.

"What do you mean by 'rotten'?" You ask, tearing yourself away from your seemingly endless well of self pity. Celaena crosses her arms over her chest, standing with the stillness of a statue. "You know what I mean- something vile is brewing and it somehow correlates with magic". You turn her words over in your head. You had a vague sense that this said 'rot' was linked in with the infamous King of Adarlan.

"But magic has been gone for years" You counter, a sudden feeling of dread embedding itself within you and rooting you to the spot. Celaena let out a distressed sigh, casting a sideways glance towards the glass balcony doors. "That's partially why I need your help". "I've been thinking a lot about this whole mess since you left-" she pauses, shifting back to face you. "-Why did you leave?". Your heart seems to halt. You should have expected your impulsive choice to be brought up.

"I needed some time alone- to think" you say rather somberly. It was a half truth, which happened to be the most you could offer. "I saw you" she suddenly muses, her tone tender. The words echo in your head. You feel your shoulders cave in, your heart cracking, ignoring the deplorable glue with which you had mended it. "That day after we retreated from the ball". It was getting hard to breathe.

You were plunged back into a recollection you had vowed to purge, a memory which had marred you in a way no other had. You were drowning, a floundering figure trying to grip onto some surface only to come to the harsh realization that nothing could save you from the lethal current shoving you deeper and deeper.

♡♡♡

You had been pacing along the corridors leading to the Crown Prince's chambers, preparing yourself for the confession you had been concocting for what felt like years. Your heart was beating wildly, threatening to escape your chest as you passed by Celaena's rooms. That's when you heard it. His laugh. In her chambers. Your feet moved on their own accord, propelling you back to the door of your friend's room. You peered through the opening, your heart dropping at the sight-

♡♡♡

"I have to go" you manage to get out before pivoting towards the door and rushing out. She calls after you, but you fail to acknowledge it. "I saw you". It was the final blow you had not been primed for. It was a mistake to return. You cursed yourself for having deemed yourself ready when you were still a crumbling mess. A heap of emotions sloppily strung together.

"Y/n?" A voice rasps from somewhere to your right. You halt your brisk trek, turning to face Dorian. "You weren't in the library- I was beginning to worry so I went to check if perhaps you were in your room but- is everything alright?". You try to force yourself to smile, to mask your pain but another memory hits you.

♡♡♡

Your gaze refused to leave them as they waltzed and twirled along the dancefloor with pristine, refined ease. They seemed to have been molded together, two perfect halves. You had asked him to save a dance for you. You had been seventh on the list he were to entertain. But he was currently dancing his twelfth dance, still nestled in the embrace of Celaena whom he had danced with first. Perhaps it was wrong of you to think you stood a chance but it was then that you had decided that you would share your feelings with him.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Make The Most Out Of A Bad Situation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: Bucky comes to your rescue even though you didn’t ask for it. He punishes you even though you did nothing to deserve it. He kisses you even if it’s supposed to be wrong.

Squares Filled: plums (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

I can’t believe I’m here right now. All I want to do is go home and snuggle in bed where I can watch movie after movie. But no. You can’t really blame Natasha. Her boyfriend is the one who is thrown this party with his best friend who just so happens to be your enemy. You and Bucky have never gotten along, even before Nat and Steve started dating. You don’t want to ask her to leave knowing she came with you. You don’t think she’d mind but she hasn’t seen him in a while and you don’t want to take that from her.

The party scene isn’t really what you’re into, so you decided to take a walk around the ten-acre property. You’ve been to this house plenty of times so you know it like the back of your hand, which is why you’re toward the back where there is this small pond that freezes over in the wintertime. You like to sneak onto the property and go ice skating when you can, and you haven’t been caught yet.

The music can be heard from where you are but it’s faint which gives you some time to think with a clear head. Bucky and Steve bought this property when they were in their early twenties and have taken care of it ever since. They have beautiful plum trees that you love to snack on, and you grab one that is hanging low for the taking. You take a big bite and moan at the delicious taste.

You toss the scraps onto the ground knowing small animals will come to feed off it. This place is notorious for deer passing through it. Not now. Not when there is a major party going on. Speaking of, you should really get back. You’re the one who drove here but maybe Natasha won’t mind staying here and letting Steve take her home. You start to head back when three guys come out from the tree line. You’d be scared if you didn’t know who all three of them were.

They’re Bucky’s annoying and arrogant friends.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask and stop walking.

“See? I told you she’d be out here. All alone like a fucking loser.”

“Yeah, good one,” you roll your eyes.

You try to get past them but they won’t let you go that easily.

“Whoa, where are you going? Stay. Hang out with us,” one of them chuckles.

“No thanks.”

“What an ungrateful bitch, guys. Care to show her what we do to ungrateful bitches?”

On of them grabs your arm tightly and begins to drag you to the pond.

“I hope you love to swim.” That’s when panic sets in. You try tog et away and that makes the man holler in victory. “I think she wants to go for a swim!”

“No, don’t, please!”

You never learned how to swim. You didn’t have a pool growing up, and your parents were too busy to take you to swim lessons. You never liked the water so you never had a desire to learn to swim. Man, you’re regretting that decision right about now.

“Hey.” Everyone turns to see Bucky coming out from behind the trees. “Knock it off. The bitch can’t swim so if you plan on drowning her, do it elsewhere.”

“Whatever. Come on guys. She’s not worth it,” one of them say.

All three of them walk away, leaving you and Bucky by the pond.

“I could have handled that, you know. I didn't need saving, asshole.”

Bucky takes two long strides over to you before pushing you into the warm waters below.

“How about now, doll?” he smirks.

Flight or fight kicks in, and you kick your legs to try and keep your head above water. However, its not working and you’re sinking faster than you’re floating. Seconds later, hands are grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the water. As soon as your feet are planted on solid ground, you must up every ounce of strength and shove Bucky away from you.

“You’re a dick! I’m out of here.”

“With what car?”

His words make you stop in your tracks, and you flip your hair over your shoulder.

“My car.”

“I’ll drive you home. Come on.”

Bucky walks past you but you don’t move an inch.

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Bucky smirks and reaches into his pocket only to pull out your car keys. What the hell? You feel your pockets and your keys are missing. He must have taken them when he pulled you from the pond.

“It’s not what I think, Doll, it’s what I know. You’re stuck with me until I say otherwise.”

“Give me my keys.” You storm over to him and try to grab it from him but he moves his hands to a height you can’t reach. “What are you, five?” You try again but receive the same reaction. “Fine. Keep them. Shove them up your ass for all I care. I’ll walk home.”

“Take one more step and I’ll gladly throw your ass back in the water.”

You turn to face Bucky and with a smirk, you take one more step back. Bucky moves faster than you can process, and he throws you over his shoulder. You know exactly what is going to happen so this time, you prepare yourself. Bucky tosses you back into the water but instead of going in alone, you make sure to bring Bucky with you. You cling to his clothes and drag him under with you.

He is a whopping six foot man while you’re much shorter than that, so he can stand comfortably on the bottom of the pond and still have his head above water. You wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him like a dryer square on pants. Bucky’s hands go under your ass to keep you there, and you two stare into each other eyes.

“That’s what you get for tossing me--”

Bucky cuts you off and plants his lips over yours in a searing kiss. Never have you ever thought you’d be kissing Bucky Barnes but now that you are, you have no idea why you weren't doing this before. All the pent-up tension and hate turns into passion and lust. His hands claw at your clothes, you fist your hands in his hair, and his lips leave a hot imprint on your skin.

“No, we can’t do this,” you pull away, breathless.

The look in his eyes tells you that he doesn’t care. You lean in again and kiss him, this time with feeling. This might be a one-time thing and if so, you’re going to make the best out of a bad situation.

x

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[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part II

Fenrys x Reader

Part I | Part III

Summary: after years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: this story will have at least two more parts; this one is very angsty I’m sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, EOS spoilers

The door to the pub slammed behind Aedion with such a force that you flinched in your seat. 

“He will come around,” you murmured, reaching your hand across the table towards your father. You sighed softly at Gavriel’s dejected expression, taking his hand in your own as you mustered a weak smile. “I’ll talk to him,” you promised, knowing the sway you held with your brother.

Your father’s tawny eyes shone with something like pride as he squeezed your hand, his blonde hair swaying as he shook his head. “Aedion is right to feel the way that he does. I don’t expect him to come around easily. He is as stubborn as your mother,” Gavriel paused, a lump working in his throat as he studied you. “And you are as fiercely kind.”

You opened your mouth to say more, something to comfort him, when an alarm rang in the distance. Gavriel had drawn his dagger before you could blink, his body blocking yours protectively from the rest of the room. Another alarm sounded from the lookout tower, dreading realization crashing over you like the waves you looked to out the window. 

Jumping from your seat, you sprinted up the stairs to Rolfe’s office Aelin stood, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to Rolfe’s torrent of emotions. He regretfully reached a tattooed hand towards Aelin, the blonde gladly shaking it. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Rolfe.”

The mischievous glint in your cousin’s eyes told you all that you needed to know, but Aelin wasted no time barking orders for everyone in the room to get to the ships and prepare for the Valg’s approach. 

Fenrys found you quickly, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as you hurried towards the docks. Despite everything, the peace that filled you at his simple touch was undeniable. In the few days you had spent together, Fenrys had become an anchor in the storm of this impending war. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice like a soft balm to your nerves as you took his hand from around your waist, weaving your fingers through his own. 

Your gaze flicked to his, the tenderness in his onyx eyes grounding you in the moment. “I’m alright,” you promised, squeezing his hand in reassurance. 

You reached the ship, Fenrys lifting you by the waist to help you over the ledge of the vessel, only for you to trip and stumble into his warm, toned chest. Your hearts pounded, synchronized even in the chaos as you made your way to the bow of the boat where Aelin and Rowan stood.

Salty air whipped around your face in breathtaking levels of wind, seawater splashing as Rowan’s wind propelled the ship unnaturally fast against the waves. Lysandra’s scales shone underneath the water, what would be a dazzling sight if not for the fear that had worked its way deep inside of you at the sight of the Valg fleet approaching. 

The next hour was a blur of fighting, canon fire, sea monsters, and every impossible thing you never believed could happen in this world. Nightmares followed the next several nights. The image of Aelin, burning out of control and falling into the sea, Fenrys’s hand ripping from your own as he dove after her.

~~~

That night, you awoke in a cold sweat, hands clawing at the edges of the mattress as you’d clung to the railing of the ship when you’d watched your mate dive out of sight. You had barely registered your surroundings - the peaceful inside of your cabin - when a familiar warm hand touched your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Fenrys murmured in your ear, a silent sob breaking through you at his voice. “Can I hold you?” he asked, hand lightly rubbing your shoulder. 

You nodded, sniffling as you tugged Fenrys’s hand from your shoulder, wrapping it around your waist as you moved as close as possible to his warmth. “You scared me today,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought that this wonderful thing, this bond with an incredible male had come just in time for me to lose you. And I can’t. I can’t lose you, Fenrys. I’m sorry if it’s too soon for me to say that, but I don’t know how I’ve lived without you in my life.”

Blonde curls fell across your cheek as Fenrys leaned down, his lips warm as they pressed a lingering touch to your ear. “I understand completely. You have brought a light to my life that I did not think possible, and I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. That is why I dove after Aelin. She will keep you safe - I know that. And you are my priority now. You have given me new purpose.”

In all your years - even before those spent as a spy in Adarlan - you had never experienced such profound intimacy. Never connected, cared for someone as deeply as you did for your mate. It was frightening to consider, but his warm press against your body filled any cracks of doubt and worry, allowing you to sleep soundly in his arms. 

Each night passed the same way, Fenrys and you now sharing the same bed, simply holding each other. Your physical intimacy never went further than a kiss on the cheek, arms wrapped around one another’s waist, but the emotional connection was something you did not believe possible.

~~~

When Melisande’s fleet descended upon you, Fenrys kept you close to his side, the two of you working seamlessly as a team to defend your ships and allies from the Valg. Canon fire roared in your ears as you saw Lorcan’s dark form at the stern of the ship - his eyes set on the coast where he had left Elide. 

“Fenrys!” you called, desperate for your mate’s attention as Lorcan abandoned ship, the desperation with which he fought his way towards shore something you wouldn’t have understood until you met Fenrys. Your mate caught your gaze, his onyx eyes flaring wide as he tracked Lorcan’s movements.

“Elide is in danger. I need you to trust me - I will go help them, but I want you safe here on the ship,” Fenrys pleaded, hands cupping your cheeks as he blocked out the world to focus on you. 

“I can’t leave you again,” you admitted, hand coming up to hold his own. Silver lined your eyes as Fenrys’s forehead leaned against your own. “Please,” you whispered, voice broken as you held him close, as though you could stop him from leaving.

Your father’s hand clasped on Fenrys’s shoulder, drawing the two of you from your moment. “It’s now or never,” he spoke, voice firm yet warm as Gavriel nodded towards the dingy. “We will be able to hold off these forces, but we need to leave now if you want to help Lorcan and Elide.”

Without a second thought, you ran towards the dingy, hopping inside along your mate and father as the three of you rowed to shore. Stumbling through the sand, your legs ached from the strain of running towards the crowd of people further inland. And time stood still as you recognized the pale, black-haired female lashing out dark power at Aelin. 

Maeve’s eyes shone with wicked delight as people stood around, helpless while an exhausted Aelin crumpled before the fae queen. Your father rushed forward, leaving you behind with Fenrys as he pleaded Maeve to spare Aelin.

“Please,” Gavriel whispered, kneeling before Maeve. “Leave Aelin be. Take me instead. Take my life.” 

The scream that ripped from your throat was muffled by a large hand over your mouth, Lorcan’s intense gaze looking down upon you as he slowly shook his head. “Do not alert attention to yourself. She cannot know what you are to Fenrys,” he whispered. 

Every nerve in your body was on fire, panic coursing through your veins as you turned to see the male who swore to stay by your side, slowly inching further away. 

You were vaguely aware of your father, his own tears hitting the ground beneath him as he felt the pain of his blood bond being stripped away. Waves of horror knocked the breath from your lungs as Maeve called Aelin to bow, your cousin and Queen whipped before your eyes while no one took action.

Fenrys stood still, frozen under Maeve’s command as your mate could not afford to spare you a glance, leaving you at the mercy of Lorcan’s strong arm holding you back. “Do not make a scene, unless you want to make it worse for Fenrys,” he warned.

Salty tears streaked down your cheeks, your gaze locking with the tawny eyes of your father as he weakly managed his way over to you. Blinding anger coursed through you, confusion at how you could end up in this situation, surrounded by the most feared warriors, all of you forced into a position of waiting as your Queen was placed in an iron sarcophagus.

Fists clenched so hard your nails drew blood from your palms, disgusted with yourself as you allowed Aelin to be taken away so that your mate would be spared. And then the ground fell out from under you when Maeve ordered Fenrys to follow.

Your mate did not so much as spare you a look over his shoulder, but every muscle in his body seemed to strain as he fought against the order to walk away from you, from your father, your new family. 

You bit down hard, Lorcan hissing as your teeth sunk into his fingers, blood dripping from your lips as he released you. You charged after Fenrys, running with no plan other than willing to risk everything for the person who had become more than everything to you.

But once again, broad arms wrapped around your waist as your father held you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” Gavriel whispered, tears streaking down his face as you felt his calm, healing power wash over you, the world fading to black as you lost consciousness.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Five

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - some fluff, flirtation, mentions of blood and gore

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

Azriel hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of y/n despite Elain's incessant chirping about the gardens and her desire to venture into the city for more seeds.

The training grounds weren't usually so busy, but that morning it turned out that Nesta and Mor had begged y/n to spar with them, and she couldn't exactly say no, not when they had established bonds at dinner the evening before.

So there Azriel sat at the edge of the ring, watching y/n move like a phantom breeze and swing her sword like it was an extension of her soul whilst Elain chattered on beside him. He hadn't minded the sound of her voice, it was a miracle she was even speaking at all considering everything that had happened to her, and he was happy to play a part of her settling but it was clear that Elain believed there was something else between them.

He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drag over y/n's figure, from the curve of her hips in the leathers she donned to the tilt of her gleaming smile. Azriel was bewitched. Just as he caught her loosely braided hair swaying in the breeze and wondering how it would feel between his fingers, a voice pulled him from the image, "Azriel? Are you listening?"

Glancing to his left, Azriel's hazel orbs connected with those of Elain, doe-like and soft, and he felt his trance disperse into the air, allowing the clash of swords to fill his ears, "Sorry, Elain. What did you say?"

The pink of her skirt dusted against the dirt of the training grounds, her hair bristling in the unobstructed breeze, "I asked if you'd like to come into the city with me this afternoon? For the seeds?" Azriel moved his gaze back to y/n and didn't feel bad about it, he was more than happy to watch her train, maybe he would get to go head to head with her at some point as well. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Azriel hummed softly in agreement, "Yes, she really is."

"I didn't know that Rhys had a sister. Feyre never mentioned anything."

Frowning slightly, Azriel told her, "Feyre didn't know. No one did. Rhys was prepared to die with the secret, she's only here because he sent her a message, a call for aid. Once the war is over she'll likely return to her world."

Elain examined Azriel's face, the transfixed eyes and softened lips, the lax shoulders and how his shadows were perched upon his shoulders staring at y/n like she was the last blinkering star in existence. She knew better than to get between a look like that, a stare more powerful than one ever given to her. Elain sighed, gathering her journals in her arms, "Maybe another time?"

Without sparing her his eyes, Azriel nodded, rising to his feet and making his way over to the ring where both Nesta and Mor lay on their backs panting whilst y/n stepped over their forms with a smirk, wings stretching and knowing that the two females were done for the day. Y/N approached the weapons rack, settling her sword back on its perch as she felt that familiar cool curl around her arms, smiling downward at the shadows which caressed her skin. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Turning on the balls of her feet, she came face-to-face with Azriel who peered down upon her with wonder, his lips curled upward into a knowing smirk, "It was impressive," he told her with his arms folded over his chest, sparing a glance backward over his shoulder at a groaning Mor who was struggling to stand on her feet without swaying. "I'm just wondering when it will be my turn."

"Your turn?" Y/N took a singular step toward him, her scent becoming entangled with the air he inhaled, infecting his bones straight down to their cores.

"Yes."

The fire in her eyes danced with intrigue, and all Azriel could think of was having her trapped beneath him, his legs pinning her body and hands wrapped around the back of her neck. He could almost picture the sparks of blue in her eyes up close, how they would ebb and flow with the ire of submitting to him.

"We can go now," her voice teased as her chest brushed against his, "If you're ready for me that is."

A soft breeze swept over her face, causing the shorter tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks, and Azriel couldn't stop his marred fingers from reaching out and removing them from her skin, lightly brushing his digits along the contour of her cheekbone and allowing his gaze to roam over her face.

"I'll always be ready for you," his voice held a certain softness to it, like he was speaking to her in the dead of night, hushed so that he wouldn't cause the storm to stir.

His touch lingered on her cheek, and up close, Azriel was mesmerised by the hue of y/n's eyes. They weren't just violet, they were a myriad of purple and storm grey, with the smallest speckles of blue which caused them to appear alight, and her limbal ring was a shade of deep onyx which just gave Azriel one more reason to be completely consumed by her.

Y/N went to speak, to open her perfectly sculpted lips and say something, but the words were stolen from her throat. In his shadow, she was simply y/n, not a queen or the most formidable warrior Erilea had ever birthed, not the daughter of the Valg or the bringer of the storms; under his eyes, she was just y/n. And she quite liked how that made her feel.

Though, she had wished that she was paying more attention to her surroundings, namely to the set of eyes that were likened to her own now glancing between her and the male who held her cheek in his hand. "Your match will have to wait," Rhys' voice slithered between them, pulling their gazes apart but not their bodies. He held a report in his fingers, his eyes were brimming with concern, "There's an update on Hybern's movements," his eyes moved to his sister, the only one who was truly undetectable and able to do what he so desperately needed, "I need you."

The rage that was written upon Azriel's face was so intense that it made even Rhys feel small.

After his interruption, Rhys had moved the entirety of the Inner Circle indoors, away from any prying eyes and ears, into the main seating area within the House of Wind. It was a comfortable place and the view beyond the arched windows was truly exquisite, even in the daylight when y/n could carve out every section within the mountains where various settlements lay, even the specific place where the pool of starlight resided.

"No." Azriel had snarled at Rhys' request from beside y/n. The Shadowsinger appeared relaxed, but there was molten ash swarming within him, within his eyes and his limbs. "If she were to get hurt then it'll be you that will have to face Aelin and Rowan and tell them why their closest friend, ally, and queen, has been harmed."

It seemed as though only Azriel understood the gravity of what the wrath of Aelin and Rowan would mean for them all, and he knew that with Aelin and Rowan came Lorcan and Aedion, y/n's bloodsworn, and Manon, the latter of which when she was mentioned made Azriel shiver.

Huffing with amusement, y/n rose from her place beside Azriel, finding his protectiveness to be rather alluring, "I can handle Aelin and Rowan," she paced toward the balcony, fixing a pair of leather fingerless gloves to her wrists and ensuring her twin blades were secured against her thighs. Y/N turned to face Azriel who had also risen, wings bristling at his back like they were preparing themselves to shoot off into the sky after her. "One day, you might stop underestimating me."

"I'll use the storms as cover, you'll get the information you need," she told Rhys stoically, opening the large looming balcony doors and stepping into the heightened winds.

Hybern was moving, the threat increasing, but the reports were too vague for Rhys, too conflicting, and he needed someone to report first hand on their movements, size, weaponry, the beasts in their arsenal. Everything. The rest of them were too recognisable, but y/n had the power to disappear whenever she wished, and that was the power that they needed.

"You don't know the continent." Stopping in her place, she turned, finding Azriel at the mouth of the doorway with Rhys stood not that far behind him. "You'll need help navigating the skies and knowing where exactly you are. Let me come with you."

Rhys nor Cassian had ever seen Azriel appear so desperate to be close to someone. From his seat beside Feyre, Cassian tilted his head toward his brother whose hand was outstretched to y/n, and if he could notice the longing glances between them then it must have been extremely obvious to everyone else. He had convinced himself that Mor was lying about was she saw in the training ring that morning, but apparently she was telling the truth.

Cassian had never seen Azriel look so obsessively helpless.

It took her a moment, but y/n nodded, once, and stiffly, before she spoke, "Stay close. You won't survive a lightening strike if it catches you."

The words should have scared him, or at least made him feel slightly wary. But Azriel didn't feel anything other than delight and privilege at the thought of being able to navigate the skies with her, and to be shielded under her power.

Unfurling her wings, Azriel watched in awe as the tips draped over the moon. He could count each feather individually from where he stood, he could etch the curves and membrane to his memory. And with a single beat of those onyx wings that resembled the night sky, y/n soared upward, craning her body in the direction of the wind before allowing it to support her flight.

Azriel wasted no time in joining her.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That's how long they'd been away for. Spending hours of the night in the wrath of the storms, scouring the lands below their flight for a sign of the Hybern forces. Though it was to no avail.

They'd return to the small cabin they had found at dawn each morning, y/n groaning for a bath and Azriel seeking a moments rest that never found him easily. Azriel had become grumpy, tired of the bristled winds and icy rain that poured down upon him every night thanks to y/n’s storms thundering on to protect them from anything that may be watching from below.

Apparently she was used to such conditions.

It also didn’t help that his rest was confined to the small couch by the entry, his wings ached and there was only a small fire to keep him warm. In those dim moments of discomfort, Azriel wished that he had taken up y/n’s offer to sleep in the bed, to stretch his wings and rest just enough to keep his senses sharp, but he could never take something from her, not when her power was exhausting her to keep them both safe and hidden in the skies.

The nights went by with little conversation, though whatever words were spoken were always light. Despite the importance of their mission, y/n was doing her best to separate the seriousness from it; Azriel had chosen, no, begged to go with her, and she wasn’t about to make the time they spent together full of misery. Though, what y/n did know was that it would be easier for her to find the armies of Hybern on her own. Thanks to Azriel’s need to answer every single one of her questions, y/n was sure that she could navigate the skies on her without issue.

“Az,” y/n called from the doorway of the bathroom where pools of steam swirled along the floor. Azriel craned his head toward her, hazel eyes moving up her bare legs to the towel that was wrapped around her body, allowing his imagination to run wild, “Take the bed,” she told him, nodding toward the plush pillows and sheets that were calling out to him as she adjusted the towel around her chest, the twin mountain tattoos to Rhys’ rippling at her knees.

“You need it more than me,” he told her pointedly, raising an eyebrow at the tapping of her impatient foot again the wooden floor. Even with damp hair and glistening skin, y/n was by far the most mesmerising female he had ever seen, her jaw was so sharp that he was sure it would cut him if he ran a finger along it, her eyes were so bold and hypnotic that they threatened to possess his soul, and he would let them. “Your power has been keeping us safe for three nights now, it needs to recharge.”

Scoffing, y/n folded her arms over her chest, “I don’t think you know how my power works,” she sauntered back into the bathroom, pushing her hair over her shoulder before pushing the door to, but leaving it open by just a crack to allow the bathroom to air out from her obscenely hot bath.

He wished that he could have controlled the urge, he wished that he could just stay put, but the devil chirping in his ear was convincing enough to push him to his feet and slowly move toward the door. Through the crack, he watched as she dropped the towel to her waist and raked her fingers through the lengths of her hair. Azriel watched her skin shimmer in the light of dawn, and saw the curve of her breasts as she moved about, though, that wasn’t what he could focus on. It was the scar trailing from her ear to her tailbone which held his eye, it was angry and scaled, and grey in places, like it was still healing, he kept an eye on it even when her wings rustled at her back, drying themselves from the slick ointments she used which made her smell like his own personal heaven.

Azriel continued to watch as she ran her fingers over her skin, stopping to examine every bump and scar with a frown before tugging a short-sleeved but skintight shirt over her head and reaching for a brush to run it through the wind-induced knots in her drying hair. All Azriel wanted to do was care for her, to run that brush through her hair and place feathering kisses down the length of the healing scar that curled down over her shoulder and spine, but he wouldn’t, instead, Azriel turned away just as y/n reached the unwind the towel from her waist and resumed his position on the chair just before she exited the bathroom altogether.

“Take the bed, Az.” Y/N told him sternly, twirling her hair around her finger and tying it in a low sitting bun, “I’m going to go for a walk anyway, we need more firewood.”

Looking to the once plenitude chunks of wood that were dwindling to almost nothing, Azriel sent her a sidelong glare as she tugged on her shoes, “I’ll go.”

“No you won’t,” she replied, voice cold and demanding, her violet eyes were screaming for a moment of solitude, and despite his objections and the refusals in his ears from his shadows, he stiffly nodded and turned back to the ashen fireplace with a small frown. “I’ll be back soon.”

She left the small cabin quickly, throwing her cape over her shoulders and tugging it closer to her body as she traipsed through the sullen woodland, branches bending under her feet and the wind whipping against her reddened cheeks. All she had to do was get far enough away from Azriel’s earshot to be able to plunge herself into the skies without him realising what she was doing. Part of her felt bad for leaving him behind, but it was clear that he needed to rest, and that the shrill cold and damp of her storms were beginning to weigh him down.

It was a kindness really. In her eyes anyway.

Once she could no longer see the cabin, y/n walked for another fifteen minutes before unfurling her feathered wings and with one beat sent herself soaring upward through the trees. For a moment, she floated there, deciding which direction to go, and she summoned the spirit of the wind to aid her, allowing it to coil in her mind and will her northward toward a set of three mountains that she and Azriel had scoured on the first night.

On approach, they felt different, and y/n flew higher into the clouds to use them as cover as she soared over the clearings and valleys, not wanting to dip any lower in fear that she’d be seen, but she had no choice.

Y/N dipped over the peak of the tallest mountain, the same one she looked at before she went to sleep in the cabin because she thought that it touched the moon, and immediately saw what they had been looking for. The armies swam for miles down the valley, tall wooden cannons stood at the mouth of the woodland, surrounded by tents and fires; the stench of death filtered through into her lungs, and she could feel the power of that damned cauldron not too far away, and she deduced that it had wisely been glamoured. Amongst the tents and soldiers milling about the space, y/n spied winged beasts perched far away from the foot soldiers, probably because they were too terrified to be anywhere near them, and y/n didn’t blame them, their pointed ears and elongated teeth, and their leathery wings were enough to make even her feel queasy. But y/n had fought and survived much worse beasts than the ones stationed below.

Counting the cannons and making mental notes of the sizes and breeds of beasts in the arsenal of the King of Hybern, y/n went to swiftly turn back, to allow the wind to carry her back to the cabin to gather Azriel and then move onward to Rhys.

But the sharp piercing of arrows through her wings stopped her from doing such things, and y/n fell downward through the skies, whatever poison they had dipped the arrowheads in seeping into and weakening her body and powers. The wind flew by her as if trying to slow her fall, and with the last speckle of her power before it dimmed completely, y/n sent out a wave so strong that the air vibrated and hummed just as she hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Groaning, she rolled onto her front, wincing as she counted the four arrows that were embedded into the feathers and membrane of her wings, which made flying to safety impossible. There was no way that Prythian or Hybern would have the knowledge of the poison to slow her unless they knew that she was in their world, somehow, the King of Hybern was wholly aware of her presence, and he had taken steps to ensure that she would at least be slowed enough to be fatally harmed.

Y/N pushed herself shakily to her feet, her fae ears struggling to keep track of the beating of wings approaching her position as they became muffled and her vision hazed. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so unaware of the legion of soldiers and beasts watching her from the peak of the mountain? Queens weren’t meant to be shot down from the skies, especially fae queens who were at one with them.

Retrieving the dagger from the waistband of her briefs, she looked up through the trees, spying the wavering shadows of the winged beasts hovering overhead and willing her wobbling legs into the thickness of the woodland, struggling up the mounds, panting and grunting as she did her best to ignore the spreading poison in her veins that weakened her more each passing moment. The chill coursing up her spine told her that the beasts were closing in, that and their giggles of terror echoing through the forest, making it clear that they were enjoying the hunt and had no wish to kill her, but to only take her back to their master.

The Queen of the Fae continued to run as fast as her legs would allow, relying on her depleting senses to carry her to safety, but it was to no avail.

A body barrelled y/n into a nearby tree, and she felt her ribs crack and splinter underneath her skin at the force of it. Tears prickled her eyes and soft whimpers of frustration fell from her lips, but she wasn’t allowed to clamber to her feet, not when a winged beast drew a scream from her lips as its talons became embedded in her belly, her shriek was loud and shrill, and it sent shockwaves through the earth and air.

“Pretty thing, isn’t she?” A voice as void as death teased, saliva from its fangs dripped onto her skin, searing the surface with its acidity, “Did you truly think that he didn’t know of you? That you wouldn’t come to aid your blood?”

Ripping its talons from her flesh, y/n felt the blood flow from the open wound. The beast curled a razor sharp digit under her chin, lifting her gaze to its face, and its cunning grin made anger swarm inside of her chest.

“How did he know?” Y/N panted, blood continuing to pour from the deep puncture in her abdomen, doing her best to distract the clan of nightmarish creatures for just long enough.

“Your brother isn’t the only one with allies in high places,” the others chuckled, happy to sit back and watch their ring leader torment the poisoned queen at their complete mercy. “Our king wants you alive, but we personally don’t want to see a thing like you live.”

Not a monster like you.

Poison to the earth.

Kin of demons.

Their chants echoed around her, burying themselves into the marrow of her bones.

The beast raised its gnarled hand, a sadistic grin upon its monstrous excuse of a mouth, ready to strike. Ready to take the life of a poisoned queen of a different world.

But it stopped.

Not by its own accord, however.

A blast of dark magic erupted from the east, sending the creature looming over her wailing and clutching at itself whilst it twisted horridly through the air, becoming impaled on a nearby set of branches. Flashes of blue and gold coiled over her hazed vision followed by the dying shrieks of beasts gargling on the blacks of their own blood, and despite the blood coating her lips, y/n couldn’t resist a smile.

Turning her head to the side, she counted three males, two from her world and one not, all fighting, all appearing to her in their own glorious beauties, but they were too enthralled in the taste of battle to notice what was creeping up on them, all too focused on what was going on at the tips of their fingers to observe.

Without thinking, and with using all of the strength she had left, y/n threw herself onto her feet, knife in hand and vision clearing with the last burst of adrenaline that flowed through her veins. Before it could reach Azriel, she hurtled herself onto the back of it, screaming and digging her dagger into its spine over and over. The monster clawed at her legs, shredding the fabric of her pants and slicing her skin like paper. It didn’t stop her, and with one final plunge into the back of its skull, the monster went rigid and fell onto the ground, leaving her stood before the three males that she was far too relieved to see.

Heaving in uneasy breathes, Y/N rested a hand on her hip, knowing that all the three males could look at was the deep wound settled into her stomach that was leaking blood at the tempo of her heartbeat. “Azriel, I’m sure you introduced yourself to Lorcan and Aedion?”

Azriel didn’t say a word, he couldn’t, not when she looked as she did. Pale. Bloody. Weak. Her hair had become loose and stuck to the side of her face, her clothes were saturated in blood and filth, and her wings. Gods. Her wings were impaled with arrows, feathers askew and some littering the ground.

How she was still standing, none of them knew. They all knew that she should be dead.

It was Lorcan who was the first to move, a male that towered over Azriel birthed by death itself, he moved to y/n, catching her swaying body in his large arms. “Tell me you brought Yrene,” y/n pleaded breathlessly, wincing as Lorcan swept her into his arms with little to no effort at all.

“She’s at that shack you’ve been staying in,” Aedion paced across the ground splattered in blood, her own and the creatures that had shot her from the skies, and rested his hand on her cheek, worry laced in the eyes which were twin to Aelin’s.

“Good. That’s good,” her once pristine white teeth were drowning in an ocean of red, it poured from the corners of her lips, and with a stiff nod from Aedion, Lorcan ran faster than anything Azriel had ever seen, leaving him and the blonde haired warrior alone in the clearing.

“If she dies,” Aedion trailed off, already not enjoying the company of the Shadowsinger considering he had allowed his queen to venture in the void on her own, he turned to Azriel, eyes ablaze and disgust snarling on his lips, “We will tear this world apart.”

We. As in Aelin and Rowan, Aedion and Lorcan, and no doubt the thing they called Manon.

A chill ran down Azriel’s spine at the thought, but all he could do was nod and move back to the cabin with Aedion in tow, watching and assessing him. He couldn’t describe the fear he felt when that rush of power startled him awake, nor the pain in his gut that felt like he was being disembowelled, and when Lorcan and Aedion barged into the cabin with a sheepish woman in tow did he realise just what was happening.

Azriel had called for Rhys instantly before they left for her, leaving Yrene behind to set up her supplies with a paling face, like she could smell in the air what was coming her way.

By the time they had made it back to the cabin, the anguish was palpable in the air. Rhys and Lorcan stood leaning against the beams of the door, both looking up from the ground through their lashes once they heard the rustling of leaves and footsteps approaching. From the look on his face, Azriel knew that Rhys was furious, with him or the appearance of Aedion and Lorcan he couldn’t quite tell but he was leaning toward the former.

“How is she?” Aedion stalked ahead, wanting to go into the room, no doubt because of the bond that flowed between him and y/n, but Lorcan stopped him with a firm hand on the shoulder, halting the warrior before he could take one step further.

Rhys’ gaze fell on Azriel and he cocked his head to the side with no emotion in his eyes, “Where were you?”

“I was sleeping.” Lorcan scoffed at the words, he knew that he would never choose to sleep over protecting his queen. “She told me that she was going to get firewood.”

“And you believed her?” Aedion asked, distaste on his tongue and hatred in his eyes.

“I had no reason not to,” Azriel deadpanned, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of y/n inside, “Will she be alright?”

The observant eye of Lorcan swept over him, noting his desperation, noting his guilt and self-loathing, and he shuffled on his feet, “If anyone can save her then it would be Yrene.”

As if on cue, the door to the cabin opened to give way for Yrene to step outside, and Azriel caught a fleeting glimpse of y/n upon the bed, chest rising and falling with bandages wrapped around her torso and thighs. “She’ll live, but the effects of the poison may last a couple of days,” she sent a pointed glare to Lorcan and Aedion, one of question. “The question is how they got their hands on the only poison that can hurt her, it’s too refined a recipe to live in this world.” Yrene wiped her bloodied hands upon her apron and sighed.

Aedion and Lorcan shared a pointed glance, “Aelin will want her back in Erilea once she hears of this.”

Sighing, Rhys ran a hand over his face, like he knew something that the rest of them didn’t, “Aelin already knows that my sister has been harmed,” his words beckoned the attention of the three males and Yrene, and Rhys’ eyes flickered between all of them, “Aelin is in Velaris. It seems that whatever brought you here did the same for her, and Rowan, and the one you call Manon. And since y/n’s power won’t fully return for a few days, you’re all stuck here.”

Dread settled into Azriel’s gut at the thought of what beating was due to come his way, but he refused to focus on it. He entered the cabin, slowly approaching the bed and drifting his hand over the pallid fingers of y/n, shivering at the cold that settled inside of him.

“I’ll winnow her back. Can you take care of those three?” Rhys appeared at his side, eyes soft as they drank in the corpse of his sister. Rhys moved to her, sliding his hands under her legs and around her back, apologising to her gently at her soundless whimpers.

Once Rhys was done making sure that she was settled and as comfortable as she could be, he stepped backward into the black mists of his power, leaving Azriel alone with three beings he was sure wanted to end his existence.

Authors Note

Sorry this took so long! Life has really been lifing recently 😭

Taglist

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Night-Terrors | Aedion x Reader

Summary: After the war is over, Aedion is still tormented by nightmares, leaving you to soothe him.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Mentions of death, yknow bc war, nightmares, but it ends good

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for tog, so be patient with me, but I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Aedion Ashryver believed he deserved this.

Aelin had used the three keys to forge the gate, to lock the Gods and Erawan away, but she’d given her life for nothing. Erawan remained, and the Gods had betrayed them.

The battle at Morath raged. Gavriel was dead, Fenrys and Lorcan well on the way. Their army was depleted, and the scent of death and suffering surrounded them. The Ironteeth had slaughtered all the Crochans and Manon’s Thirteen. The Myceniens were gone. Whatever remained of the ruhkins beyond their rotting corpses that had fallen to the ground days ago, Aedion didn’t know.

The wild people of the Wolf Tribe hadn’t come, and Dorian had probably been slaughtered by now. Where the older Lords had gone, he didn’t know either.

The battle went on until the Witch Towers were up, and with the amplified blast of the Yeilding, their entire army was ashes. Maeve and Erawan smiled at him, pure wickedness in their faces.

It was over. They lost.

Maeve slipped into his mind, and he was too weak to stop those icy talons from digging in. She gave him one last vision before the Wyrdstone collar clamped around his neck.

A world with no fire or flame, not a whisper of Aelin’s power, a world with no magic, only possessed by the tyrants of the world.

No light.

Valg infested the streets, spreading their stain of darkness until that was all Erilea was. Aedion couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. There was nothing and no one there for him, not even you, inside that broken realm.

Because he had failed.

Any last inch of spirit he had was when he tried to struggle against it, against them, but too soon did he hear a resounding click of stone against stone, and the coldness of it around his throat.

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

You were half-asleep when you first heard his mumbling.

Sitting up and rubbing your eyes, your hair tousled by sleep, you saw Aedion writhing and struggling in his sleep. It wasn’t a sight that surprised you, not anymore.

The nightmares were a common occurrence for both you and Aedion, more so for him, and you’d slowly learned how to comfort him and help him through them, but never did he thrash this badly. And then he stopped, and you wondered if it was over.

You laid a gentle hand on his upper arm.

“Aedion?”

You whispered, and right after that, he jolted up. Before you could even move an inch, you were pinned forcefully against the bed, a hand around your throat and squeezing. He had a wild look in his eye, panic and fear flooded his scent.

“Stop—Aedion-“

You choked out, hands held down by him. You couldn’t move an inch, not beneath all his weight and pure muscle, especially with the hold he had you in. Muscle memory, most likely. Instinct too.

Right when your vision started getting splotchy, he must’ve realized what he was doing, because the pressure was immediately gone and he flipped onto his back beside you, sitting up, staring in horror. His chest was heaving as he panted for breath, silver lining his eyes.

“Oh gods, you’re-..you aren’t hurt, are you?”

He asked, his hands twitching as they went to go check you for any injury, before hesitating, knowing you might not want to be touched after what he’d done. You sat up, shakily taking in a breath, hands brushing over your throat before you took his in your own. They dwarfed yours, unsurprisingly.

“I’m fine, okay? Just..what happened?”

His eyes still shone with guilt, but he seemed more reassured by your hands in his. With a deep sigh, he squeezed your hands once. A few moments of silence passed, before he spoke, tears building.

“I don’t know, it was just a nightmare, but Aelin was gone, and we lost, and they put a collar around..”

His voice trailed off, and then the tears fell, and he was sniffling, his hands separating from yours to wipe them away. Your heart broke at the sight of your mate, terrorized by nightmares and tormented by them.

You scooted closer to him, arms sliding around his waist carefully, tentatively, until he leaned into you, folding into your arms and sobbing into your shoulder. Your hand soothingly ran circles on his back as he babbled nonsense against your skin.

Eventually, sobs turned to sniffles, and he shifted to lie down with you, pulling some of the warm blanket over you as his golden hair spilled onto the pillow. You moved your hands to stroke his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a way you knew he loved. He opened his eyes again, peering up at you.

“You’re sure that you’re alright?”

He questioned quietly, concerned and guilty still. You nodded.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?”

You questioned right back, and he sighed, nodding. His arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he needed you to ground him back down to reality, so he couldn’t get lost in nightmares or dreams. His head buried right into the nook of your shoulder as he took a deep inhale of your scent, and relaxed further after that.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You drowsily asked, and he shook his head.

“In the morning.”

He mumbled, and you gave a little hum of acknowledgment. Both of you had a habit of putting things off till morning, the discussion of his nightmare only being another one of them as you both began drifting off to sleep.

It was safe to say that Aedion Ashryver slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night.

[hunnyrants]

A/N You'll need context from the ending of CC2 for the beginning of the fic, but if you don't plan on reading that series it will (mostly) make sense. But hardcore spoilers for CC2 😭😭

But lmk if you guys would like more Azriel x Cadre!Reader! I've loved this concept forever and am finally ready to start sharing it 🥰 You'll meet reader in the next part and get her pov 🥰

ACOTAR X TOG crossover

Pairing: Azriel X Cadre!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, eventual smut, angst, trauma, CPTSD, war (to be updated ❤️)

⚠️ GIGANTIC ACOSF, CC2, AND KINGDOM OF ASH SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT⚠️

The Blade of Doranelle

part 0.5

Rhysand was going to go mad.

He paces behind his desk with furrowed brows, trying to get any sense of something rational in his life. Since Bryce Quinlan fell into his court months ago his brain has been close to bursting. Feyre is no better. They've each had dozens of reports of tears in their world, in the very air itself, with shifting light marking every last one of them. Even when the female made her way back to her world, the rifts didn't close behind her. Both high lord and lady had gone together to the closest one, just outside of Velaris, and tried to close it themselves. When that proved impossible for the two most powerful high fae to have walked Prythian, tensions rose considerably.

Rhys takes a deep breath and turns to his mate who has been watching him quietly from her perch on the couch. She had Rhea, Madja's assistant, watching Nyx while his parents were occupied throughout their busy afternoons, and this was no exception.

"Thought for a thought?" She murmurs gently.

Rhysand stops pacing, and despite the exhaustion weighing on his soul he smiles. Despite his 500 years being alive, nothing could have prepared him for something this absurd.

"I'm thinking… that I want to throw something out of that window," Rhys grumbles. He turns to Feyre who can practically see the instincts in him roaring to protect and slaughter any who threatens what's his. But that now unsealed letter at the top of dozens of reports? It rattled him.

Azriel had brought it in, after his spies witnessed a village go into an uproar after a blonde fae male in silver armor stepped through a rift and politely requested a letter be delivered to their leader. But when Az had gotten there the male was long gone, stepping back through the rift.

As soon as Rhys finished reading the male's letter; he silently handed it to his mate and his eyes glazed over, immediately contacting everyone in his inner circle for an emergency meeting. Feyre's eyes had darted across the page before immediately turning back to Azriel, her face grave. "We need Amren here."

Although its contents itself were as pleasant as it could be, all things considered. Azriel's face had been dark since he brought in the damned thing, and now that the second in command was getting involved? As he winnowed away, Azriel was sure this was nothing but a bad omen.

He returned within a heartbeat with Amren. The small female was still intimidating despite her loss of power. Especially now seeing her delicate face contorted with rage as she's handed the offending paper by her high lady. Azriel's face was still dark as he moved to stand in front of the fireplace and a cunning eyed Amren now read the letter.

Feyre twists towards her mate once more and leans forward, "What is the political side of you thinking, Rhysand?"

Despite her young age, her eyes were sharp and clear. This was her court and her family potentially in danger, no matter how important these rifts may be, to be sent a letter from something on the other side was a security risk, no matter their intentions.

Rhys takes a deep breath in and considers. Just as he opens his mouth the door bursts open- "What the fuck do you mean a queen from across the rift requested an audience?"

"Hello cousin," Rhys grumbles before pinching his brows.

"There's no way in Hel that you're considering it," hisses Mor again, with Cassian and Nesta on her heels looking inclined to agree. She likely had winnowed them to the river house upon getting her own summons and brief explanation from Rhys mind to mind.

"As I was going to say," he rubs his face, "this meeting is risky."

"But so is leaving unattended rifts across our court." Amren says. She had been silent since she finished reading, the letter dangling haphazardly from her pinched fingers.

"We can handle the rifts across our court. We shouldn't be interacting with what is on the other side," says Azriel as he stalks forward towards Rhys, "It has to be a trap."

"What if it's genuine? Look at your orrery Rhys, you already thought other worlds existed. It was confirmed with Bryce. It wouldn't hurt to at least reply to the letter," Nesta says before she catches Azriel's eye, "You're a spymaster, shouldn't you be halfway through that rift to seek your own answers from whoever delivered the letter?" Azriel's eyes narrow in response.

"That is not a risk even I am willing to take. The rift itself could likely kill us-"

"It won't. I already have eyewitness reports of townsfolk stepping through a rift with rope tied around their waists and returning of their own accord," Feyre interrupts as she presses her fingers into her temples.

"Rhys and I entered their minds and they weren't altered at all, Madja looked at several as well and no bodily harm came to them either. And its been well over two months since the first rift opened, if something was going to happen to those people I think it would have already."

"Mother's tits Rhys. First the queens, Koschei, Bryce, rifts opening across all of Prythian and now finding something on the other side of one?" Cassian sighed before grumbling, "I need to make sure the Illyrians are ready to fly again."

Mor's skirt hissed against the wooden flooring as she swept forward to snatch the letter from Amren, who surprisingly allowed her with no more than a sideways glance. She refolds the paper to align the broken seal once more and traces the dark green wax.

"This seal is unfamiliar…" she muses before skimming the letter and promptly dropping it back onto the once organized desk of Rhysand's office. The paper now seemingly mocking the rest of the reports that were deemed unimportant.

"Do the initials A.A.G. ring any bells?"

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Ptolemaea

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: one mention of sex so MDNI (18+), angst, kidnapping

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: …

You are currently reading chapter 11 of The Roommate Series

A small sigh left your mouth as you packed up your backpack.

You had to go back to campus today to return a few items and you couldn’t help but fight with yourself over doing it right now. You had put it off for a day now, unable to get anything done since Simon had left but eventually you convinced yourself it was best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

Part of you was grateful you had put it off until now. It gave you an excuse to get outside of the house, to stop wallowing in your grief and torturing yourself by staying in Simon’s room all day. You needed a small distraction to ease you back into your life without him for however long he’d be gone.

You placed your hand on your chest and felt the dog togs he left you underneath a shirt of his you put on, and you felt your heart warm.

“You don’t need them?” You had asked on the brink of sleep.

The two of you were laid in bed, finally exhausted from the multiple rounds of sex that lasted well into the night. His fingers drew circles into your lower back while he caressed your face, almost purposefully trying to put you to sleep while he never stopped staring at you.

“I can get new ones.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and your eyes fluttered shut.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a deep breath. Instead of dwelling on the memory, you grabbed your backpack and made sure you had everything you needed.

Wallet, keys to the apartment, your phone and the burner phone he left on your desk. 

It felt wrong to leave the apartment without announcing where you were going. In your heart he was still here, telling you to be safe on your walk and that he was going to be here when you got back, ready to listen to you or to do whatever you wanted.

Soon, you had to keep telling yourself that. He’d come home soon and for much longer.

You stepped out into the summer air and locked the door behind you. You squinted in the light and stepped onto the sidewalk, ready to start the short journey to campus when a black SUV caught your attention.

It was parked in the driveway of one of the apartments that had been empty for a couple months now. It meant you had new neighbors and for a moment you felt a little relieved that you’d have to introduce yourself to them whenever you saw them out. Though, you did find it strange that they didn’t have any boxes they were moving considering you couldn’t remember seeing the SUV there yesterday.

You excused it that maybe they had a moving truck on the way and started your walk towards campus. 

It was uneventful like normal and when you got to the actual university, it was practically a ghost town. You expected that much considering there probably weren’t that many people who took summer classes.

You crossed an empty parking lot to the building you needed to be in.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty hall as you made your way to the elevator. Your mind was elsewhere, focused more on what you would do when you get back to the apartment, how you were probably going to stress clean for the rest of the day when you reached the elevator.

You pressed the button to go up and stepped inside.

The door you came through opened and you watched a man in all black step inside the building. The hallway was short enough you could somewhat make out his face and your eyebrows knitted together when he looked…strangely familiar but you couldn’t place where you had seen him before.

He looked around the hallway before he locked eyes with you. He began to walk towards you but the elevator doors closed.

Was he in one of your classes? No, you knew everyone because of how small they were and he wasn’t one of them. Maybe you’d seen him around campus, but campus was also small and you had never seen him walking around before.

You tried to think where you might have seen him but the elevator doors opened with a ding.

It wasn’t long before you were in the office returning the items you needed to. The silence was anything but comforting for your overactive mind as you placed the files away and returned the keys to their proper spot.

What was Simon doing right now? Was he working or did he have a break? Was he taking care of himself, was he thinking about you right now-

The elevator dinged.

You paused and listened to slow heavy footsteps, as if each step was deliberate. It had to be the man from downstairs since you two were the only ones in the building. You don’t remember being told anyone would be joining you to return any materials, since you were the only one given access to the office.

A strange feeling settled in your stomach and your heart raced a little faster. Your hands went clammy but you weren’t sure why you were nervous all of the sudden as you watched the cloudy office window for his shadow.

The man's silhouette appeared in front of the door for a moment before he stalked further down the hall.

You stayed frozen still, your eyes never leaving the door as you listened to him take careful steps. Your mind searched for answers on why he seemed so familiar and why his presence made you feel scared.

He opened a different door down the hallway before he shut it and a couple seconds later he opened another one, shutting after just a moment before he moved on.

Was he…looking for you?

You slowly put your backpack on, breaking out of the stillness that had taken over you and you shook your head. He was probably just looking for a room and couldn’t find it, maybe he was a new professor trying to gather his bearings.

Something inside you told you that wasn’t the truth but you couldn’t believe it. Why would someone be looking for you? Everyone you knew had your phone number; they could just call you if they wanted to speak with you about something.

You were being paranoid, skittish and you wondered if Simon was rubbing off on you.

You shook your head. You had to stop making yourself anxious for no reason, even if your gut told you otherwise. Your heart still raced as you made your way to the office door, but when you grabbed the handle you hesitated.

“I deal with dangerous people.” 

Simon’s words echoed in your mind and you swallowed hard. It was too coincidental, too unlikely. There was no chance someone normal would be following you, let alone someone who Simon dealt with at work, you were just so stressed your mind was racing to worst case scenarios instead of thinking logically.

You were about to open the door when the man’s footsteps got closer. Instinctual fear gripped your throat and you locked the door, quietly back away from it until you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you through the foggy glass.

His shadow appeared again and your heart went into your throat. You watched as he tried to the door and when he realized it was locked he jiggled it a few times, causing you to clench your jaw. 

The man huffed and you watched him pull out a phone. He held it up to his ear and began to speak a language you couldn’t understand, the syllabus falling on deaf ears as your heartbeat took over every other sense in your body.

You needed to get home.

He jiggled the doorknob again and you stepped further back into the office.

You stayed silent, barely breathing as you hoped he would give up on trying to open the door. His words were harsh as if he were frustrated as he landed a swift kick against the door that made you jump and press your shaky hands over your mouth.

It felt like hours before he stepped away from the door. You listened to his footsteps go towards the elevator, heard it ding and before long his voice had disappeared.

You didn’t breathe a sigh of relief as you unlocked the door. You rushed out into the hall and ran towards the stairwell on the other side of the building, far from the elevator. 

It took immense self control to open and close the door as softly as you could. You couldn’t risk making that much noise if he really was looking for you. Your mind raced as you quietly rushed down the stairs, trying to find out who he was and what he could possibly want with you. There was nothing remarkable about you, nothing you did or had that someone would want from you.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and you were about to exit into the building when you heard voices.

Voices. One belonged to the man who tried to get into the office and another belonged to a different man, but they both spoke the same language. You couldn’t understand a word but you tried to figure out what it was in case you came across them again in the future. Russian?

It didn’t matter as you heard them get closer to the stairwell. You turned around and opened the outside exit door inside.

You stepped out, carefully closing the door before you rushed towards the front of the building to the empty parking lot. You turned around the corner and your stomach dropped to your feet as intense fear washed over you.

The black SUV was parked just a couple feet from the door.

You were being followed.

Your feet carried you across the parking lot. At first you thought that maybe you could walk fast enough to get past it, to hopefully be out of their sights before they even exited the building but you were wrong. Halfway through the parking lot, you glanced behind you to make sure you still had time, and watched them both walk out.

In the split second the three of you spotted each other they ran towards the SUV and you sprinted in the other direction.

Your lungs burned and your chest hurt. Your feet carried you before your mind did as the only thing on your mind was to get back to the safety of your apartment. There was nothing else you could do, no one else you could run to, nowhere else to run to but back home and hope that the slight head start that you had gave you enough time to get there before they caught up to you.

Your neighborhood felt larger than it was, the run back to your apartment felt longer as if the sidewalks were against you in your desperation to make it back. You wished someone was outside, someone was driving by or someone would let you into their house, someone to help you but you didn’t have the time to figure out if they would.

You practically broke down the front door of your apartment. You shoved it closed and locked it, unable to catch your breath as you shook so much you wondered if you’d collapse. 

You felt sick as you panicked.

You wanted to call Simon. This counted as an emergency, you knew he’d count it as one but what would he do? He wasn’t here, he was probably in a different country, far from you that something bad would happen by the time he would pick up the phone. 

The black SUV stopped in front of the apartment and your mind went to Simon’s gun. 

You had no idea how to use, fuck you should’ve let him teach you, but maybe it would be enough to deter them. Maybe they would hesitate to try to break through the doors while you called the cops if you told them you had a gun.

You didn’t think twice as you threw down your backpack and rushed to Simon’s room. You weren’t sure exactly what you would do as soon as you got ahold of his gun but you hoped you wouldn’t have to use it; it had to be enough to just hold it, it had to be.

You opened his bedroom door and froze.

A man sat on the edge of Simon’s bed and met your eyes. He sat there calm and collected as if he hadn’t broken into your apartment, his sharp eyes stared at you with a sort of cold indifference as if he had been inconvenienced. He wore all black just like the others and in his lap was Simon’s gun.

You didn't know what to do. A stranger was in your house, strangers were outside your door and the only weapon you could use for self defense was in the hands of the person who broke into your house.

At that moment you wondered if you were going to die here or if this was going to be the last time you ever saw daylight.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” The man warned, no, threatened you with the tilt of the gun.

It was a mistake but you ran. 

You ran back into the living, scared out of your mind because all you could think about was the fact that you were trapped inside the one place you thought was the safest. You were like an animal trapped in a hunter’s cage, prey to men you had no idea what their intentions were. 

The front door was kicked down and the two men stepped inside. 

You finally got a good look at their faces and you realized with horror that you recognized them from the restaurant that Simon had taken you on your first date together. 

They had been watching you this entire time.

You were about to run to the back door when the man from Simon’s room rushed up to you and smacked the gun against your head, knocking you out cold.

Link to part 12

A/N: oops! As if things can't get any worse lol anyway hoped you guys liked it (remember there will be a happy ending)

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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