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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

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under violet skies | azriel

summary; the dusk court has been hidden for many millennia. with a new ruler who no longer wants to hide, threats break out. azriel was tasked with protecting the high lady, the queen, of dusk court, from an assassination attempt.

word count; 9644

notes; I love the plot, I hate the smut, so be gentle with me, okay? ki just hit 3k, and a while ago she asked for something dusk court, and azriel, and hate fucking. I hope this lil gift meets all those expectations. 🤍

You really weren’t sure how you’d ended up here. In fact, everything felt like a blur. Surely, it had only been moments ago you’d been sitting at the table with Azriel, eating breakfast, laughing with the man who was your bodyguard as he whispered jokes about your court under his breath.

Now, you watched as his shadows swirled frantically, through bleary eyes that were beginning to blacken around the edges. The pressure on your back rose, your fingers digging so hard into the cold stone tiles that your nails were tearing. What was it that Azriel had taught you, in all those months of training? You couldn't remember, your head was spinning. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear him screaming, yelling, the chains he was locked by rattling and shrieking as the metal gave nothing.

Just when the darkness was reaching the middle, when you were so desperate for breath your heart was no longer racing, the pressure loosened. You sucked in a breath, so deep it hurt as it stretched abused muscles, and a cry fell from your lips. A steel-capped boot hit your shoulder, a rough kick that flipped you over onto your back, onto the wounded muscles that were already giving you hell.

The room was a mess, what had once been your dining room, what had once been beautiful pillars of carved marble and moonstone was destroyed; smoking and flaming, debris littering the room. The dining table was cracked in two, you remembered the centuries-old oak giving way as Azriel had been thrown right through it. The windows were smashed, the pretty stained glass at the end that had cast a lavender haze over the whole room, you remembered the way flames had birth through it like shooting stars falling from the sky.

Footsteps crunched through broken glass, following where you’d rolled to a stop, one arm twisted awkwardly under your body, and the feeling of hot, sticky blood dripping from it was enough to make your stomach twist. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he waved his free hand around the room, head tipping to the side as his feet came to a stop near your head.

Azriel pulled tighter on the chains, the accomplices holding him back yanked so hard you heard something pop, and you took a shuddering breath, as best you could. “Let him go. You only want me.” Cold pressed to your throat as he crouched, your eyes snapping back, lips trembling, skin burning from the tears pouring down over them as you met the eyes of your attacker. Of the assassin sent to kill you, the one you’d known was coming, had been preparing for, and yet you’d never have been ready for this.

“Let him go?”

“Yes. Let him go.” Your voice trembled, weak as you tried to assert authority, the power that was your birthright, your power as the rightful ruler of Dusk Court, and he only laughed, bloodied teeth from his bleeding lip showing, a result of the one punch you’d managed to land before he’d gained the upper hand over you.

“See, this is why we’re here. This is why you can never rule, you’re nothing like your father.”

“I take pride in that.” He sneered, eyes blazing with a kind of rage you’d never seen before, the insanity fuelling it terrifying you to your very core. You blinked back tears, refusing to let him see any more vulnerability from you than he already had. “Kill me now, or I’ll kill you for hurting him.”

He laughed again. The sound of it made fear strike down your spine, a cold slash that left everything alert with feeling, left every damaged nerve electrified and screaming. “You’d risk your life for a piece of Night Court scum? You change things, you are doing everything wrong. Your father knew how to rule, you’re nothing but a disappointment on that throne.”

“It’s sweet to know the family has such a loyal following.”

“You have no loyalty from me.” He spat, the mixture landing on your cheek, a searing hot reminder of just how powerless you were. Your eyes closed, bile moving in the back of your throat. Your hand shook so badly as you tried to lift it that you could barely smear it away. He stepped back, rounding your body, until he was hooking a hand under your armpit. Hauling you onto your knees, the rocks and splinters dug into your skin through the thin layers of gauzy, ruined dress, until you were facing Azriel.

His lip was split, a trickle of blood running down from it, dirt and soot covered his face, a bruise forming along the right side that made you wince as you remembered the kick that had caused it. His wings were drooped, his left arm hanging limply by his side, and you wondered if that pop had actually dislocated it. His eyes were wide, his whole body all but vibrating with rage, and he struggling against the chains once again.

“Look at him, an Illyrian. We all know of their reputations, of how they act. Bastards, monsters, degenerates, killers. You’d have, what, have our noble court follow in their footsteps? I hope dying for one of your precious Illyrians is worth it.”

Azriel was screaming now, shadows whipping in a violent frenzy as that cold knife pressed to your skin once again, not breaking the skin but enough that you could feel the blood throbbing in your neck against it. Your heart slowed, breath catching in a sob you tried to hold back, offering a shaky smile when Azriel’s desperate gaze met yours. “It’s okay, I’m dying for my mate.”

The room fell silent.

So quiet, you could hear your own heart beating in your ears.

“You’re dying for nothing.” His hand pulled back, ready to send the blade piercing into your neck, your heart, you didn’t know. Your eyes met Azriel’s, a shaky smile finding your lips.

Then, the room went black.

An explosion, swirling darkness like you’d never seen from Azriel before, barely catching glimpses of light through the hurricane of shadows closing in and in on you like a suffocating mass, until the light was gone entirely. Metal strained, shrieked, before giving way, and then blue cut through it. A solid burst of sapphire, a terrifying shot of power that illuminated the dark just enough for you to see him as he moved. There was a look on Azriel’s face you’d never seen before, a look that suggested that wasn’t Azriel at all, not the one you knew, not your mate, but someone else entirely. Someone much, much darker.

That blast hit the man behind you, the force of it sending your body flying along with his, and when you hit the stone was again, your skull collided with the ground. It was dark again, the power gone, and you were left alone. All you had to guide yourself with was the screams, the sounds of gut-twisting torture as bodies were torn apart, the wet sounds of flesh tearing, the sounds of bones breaking, the sounds of lives ending. You didn’t pity them, but it didn’t stop you from being terrified.

You did all you could, you pressed yourself close to the floor, forehead to the tiles as you wept, a hand over your body, body shaking so violently your joins scraped the rough floor. You could only hope it was Azriel who found you first.

You waited.

And waited.

Eyes closed, soothing yourself with the sounds of your own cries, until the screaming stopped, until only one man’s heavy panting echoed off of the wreckage of the room. You cracked an eye open, watching the shadows crawl back, slowly, slowly, until you could see your own hands in front of your face again, until you could see the wreckage of the room.

Blood, spattered everywhere. Across the tapestries and walls ad painting. Guts, hanging from bodies, the metallic smell in the air only making the queasiness worse. And then, Azriel, on one knee before the very same man who’d had a knife to your throat. The knife, still clutched in his hand, his hand clutched in Azriel’s, was now buried in his throat.

It was a sickening sound as Azriel pulled the blade free, wiping it on the thigh of his leathers as he stood, and sheathing a new blade on his belt. A trophy. Rivers of red ran from him, along black leather, along golden skin, from raven hair. You hoped none of it was his.

His eyes met yours, his shoulders still heaving, something cold and emotionless sitting in them, but as your gazes locked, you felt the bond in your chest hum. That golden thread that had been dead for so long pulled tight, and you watched his body stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath.

The rush of it, it gave you just enough strength to get to your feet, to stumble over your shredded dress and the ruins of your home towards him. He remained still, so still it was like he was a statue, watching you move until you collapsed into him. Your hands smoothed up his chest, coming away red-coated, but you didn’t care, not as you cupped his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheek as you took in your battered mate.

“Az..”

Your lip wobbled. His didn’t. Instead, it curled down in a snarl, a sound that echoed harshly along your body. His hands come up, wrapping tightly around your wrists, yanking your trembling hands from his face.

“Do not fucking touch me.”

You gaped, the thread in your chest going dead once again as his walls snapped up. Cold and hard and heartbreaking.

You reached for him again when his hands let you go, only to watch as he turned, watching his back as he stormed from the room, shadows dragging with him like a cloak of pure darkness, until he was gone.

Once again, you fell to your knees, one hand clutching at your chest.

This time, you didn’t hide your sob, nor the loud wail that tore from you on a sore throat as you reached the ground.

“The threat is taken care of, so you’ll no longer be needing my services.” Azriel appeared as he always did, silent and terrifying, all but manifesting out of the shadows as he walked through the door, refusing to even show the decency of knocking. He was clad in his leathers once again, but no longer did blood streak down them, no longer were they torn and burned. He looked better than he had the last time you’d seen him, a week of healing had done him good, those Illyrian genes had fixed him up far faster than you had. There were still bruises along your back, your neck, your soul. He didn’t observe you the way you looked at him, he refused to look at you at all, stalking towards the desk on the opposite side of you and slamming a letter down onto it. “I expect you’ll be wanting this.”

He slid it with two fingers across the polished oak, before pulling back, hands tucking firmly behind his back, wings pulled tight. You didn’t pick it up, but continued to stare at him, watching him observe the space of your private office. He’d never been here before, not this close to your bedroom, the door behind you to it still wide open. You’d been on bed rest all week, waiting for him to visit you, to talk to you. He’d never come, so you’d had to pull rank and summon him.

A muscle twitched in his tight jaw as though he was thinking the same thing. Finally picking up the letter and running your thumb under the seal on the back, three mountains and three stares glared at you from within the swirling grey wax. It popped open, your fingers delicately folding it open.

It didn’t say much, a small, hastily scrawled letter in his unique cursive, bluntly explaining how he’d be leaving in the morning. His duties as a bodyguard and nothing more were completed, and when dawn broke, he would leave for the Night Court once again. Permanently.

He stayed silent as you read, only daring to glance in your direction when you pressed it down flat onto the wood before you, smoothing it out, reading it again. And again. Your threat stung, an entirely new pain from the one you’d been recovering from all week, and when you looked up at him, that same empty look was present in his gaze. Vacant, unfeeling, void.

“You’re leaving?” He only nodded, stiffly, maintaining the eye contact for a second before dropping it once again, holding his chin high and staring over your head. Azriel had never made you feel small, never made you feel weak or helpless, not like he was now. He was leaving, you’d laid everything bare for him, your bond, your love, your life, and he wanted none of it. “I see.”

You lifted a pen, dipping it delicately into the ink, the tip hovering for only a second over the paper before you were signing it neatly. He let out a slight sigh as he watched the signature be drawn. Whiskey-eyes narrowed on you, as though he’d expected more; a fight, and argument, a royal demand like the one you’d used to get him here in the first place, but you had no fight left to give.

“Thank you, Azriel, of the Night Court. Your services were more than I could have asked for.” It ached to even speak, to put a distance between you both like this, like he hadn't become your best friend, your confidant, the only man you’d ever loved. The only man who’s made you feel safe. This office felt far too small with him in it, and the palace felt far too big with the idea of him gone. “I’ll write to your High Lord, thank him personally for your services. I’ll be sure to send-”

Your voice cracked, his wings twitched behind his body as his head snapped back to you, and you only cleared your throat, putting on the same smile he’d trained you in months ago, to hide everything you really felt. You never thought you’d have to turn it on him.

“I’ll be sure to send ample rewards for your services.”

He lingered a moment longer, hands flexing behind his back, before one reached out, spinning on his heel. He was almost at the door, hand hovering over the handle, when he turned back to you. “How long did you know?”

There was only one answer. “The night of my coronation.”

He visibly blanched, shoulders locking so tight you swore it must hurt. “That was almost a year ago.”

It was your turn to nod. Almost a year ago, Azriel had found you, surrounded by piles of lavender tulle and silk, sunken down onto the floor with your crown gripped in your hands, unable to even breathe. Almost a year ago, scarred fingers had wiped tears from your face and told you how to be strong, taught you how to be fearless, promised you it would get better. Almost a year ago, you’d realised exactly where the shadowsinger belonged. It had always been right there, at your side.

“You’ve known for almost a year?” The cold mask of indifference broke, that simmering anger you’d known had been there breaking through as it rose, but at least it was something. You stood, walking around the desk slowly, intending to pour yourself and him a drink, but Azriel had other plans. “You kept this from me for almost a year?”

His shout was so loud that the glasses on the tray rattled. “Look at the way you’re reacting now, Azriel. You pretend to feel nothing, but you feel everything so deeply. If I had told you, can you say you wouldn't have run scared, let that fear consume you?”

“I have waited five hundred years for my mate, I have told you such, I had laid the deepest parts of myself and my wishes out for you to see and you still didn’t tell me? I told you how much I wanted you, and you never told me.” Beneath the anger, beneath all that fiery rage was hurt, just like the hurt you were feeling, and it bounced down that strained bonds between your bodies, no matter how much he tried to hide it or keep you out. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Azriel. I simply just didn’t tell you the truth.”

His scoff felt like a slap. “Oh, such a political thing to say. I don’t know what you were ever scared of, you’re a natural politician.”

That felt like a knife.

If he could make cheap shots, so could you.

“This is why I did not tell you. I knew you’d run away, like a coward. Just like you are now. I have waited for you for days, and for days you have avoided me, hidden away like a scolded child, and now you’re going home. You’re going back to hiding in your shadows, so you can observe the world from afar, longing to be a part of it, but never having the guts to join it.”

“You don’t know me!” It was an uncharacteristic burst, a few footsteps closer to accompany it, and you shrugged.

“I know you better than anyone. Including, perhaps, yourself.”

His shoulders were heaving, ragged breaths sucked into his lungs as he glared at you with such hatred it lit you up from the inside out. His wings flared, chest tightening, and then he was stalking towards you.

You backed up, all the way until your back was pressed to the wall, until he was so close you could smell the night lingering on him, the swirling mists and dewy forests, all heightened with his emotions, rolling off of him in waves.

“I hate you.”

The feeling was mutual, he was running scared, breaking both of your hearts because he was too scared to give his to you. “I hate you t-”

His mouth descended onto your own, a kiss that knocked the very breath from your lungs, that had your head slamming back into the wall behind you with the force of it. Hot and angry, he wasted no time, the months of tension building between you two finally coming to a head like the eruptions of a volcano. Large hands settled on your hips, pressing you back into the wall, a dull ache in your back forming, a cry on your lips, and then it was gone.

Gone, because in that moment of weakness, in that sound, he’d slipped his tongue into your mouth, powerful kisses growing deeper and wetter, overpowering you in every way as he crowded in closer. Close enough that you could barely slip a hand between your bodied, close enough that you could feel his heart racing against your chest, beating against his ribs, searching for your own.

Mates.

That bond was singing, pulling tight, wrapping around you both as you tried to keep up with him, to kiss him back with everything you had. To show him you loved him, you were sorry, you just wanted to make him happy after all, you didn’t want it to end like this.

To show him it didn’t have to end at all.

His teeth bit your lower lip, hard enough to sting, to draw another cry from you as pleasure and pain blended into a mix that made your head spin. His teeth all but knocked against yours, your lungs burning for breath once again as he took the trauma you’d felt a week ago, and rewrote it into something new. Every nightmare that had plagued you for days felt so small now, as he held you, as he caged you in, broad frame tall enough that all you could see was him, all-consuming and devastatingly handsome.

“I hate you,” He growled it into your mouth, one hand sliding up along your front, so confident in his touches that you almost whimpered as he grazed over your breasts, before his fingers were skimming lightly over the bruises on your neck, settling there comfortably. “I hate you for making me wait four hundred years for you.”

“I hate you for running away when you found out.” He squeezed, your oxygen cutting off for barely a second, and his lips moved down to your neck as you gasped. Biting, sucking, marking you as his with his mouth until you felt like every bone in your body was bending to his command. He let you go, let you take a breath, his lips grazing your jaw.

“I hate your smart fucking mouth.”

You brought a hand up to his face, pulling his lips back to your own, a grateful hum leaving you as your mouths met again, your sighs tangling in the middle, and the bond in your chest jerked happily at the contact.

It may not have been a loving kiss, it may not have been a kind kiss, in fact, every part of it was utterly brutal, but you loved it.

“I hate the way you never tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m doing it now!” And then it changed, the hand on your neck smoothing down, sitting over your neck rather than squeezing it, thumb swiping over the purple marks littering your skin almost tenderly, as his mouth slowed from fervent to deep, something so erotic that the world seemed to slip away around you, nothing but the feel of him, the taste of him, remaining. His hands moved, tugging at the strings on the front of your dress, and you supposed that yes, he was telling you how he felt. Desperate, needy, betrayed and hurt and most of all scared. It was there to read in actions like a book. “I hate all these fucking strings.”

Fabric tore, the simple ties on the front of your dress giving way, and you tore your lips from his to look down at the mess. The corset was laying on the floor by your feet, the simple undershirt pooled around your waist, barely holding onto your arms it slumped down to your wrists, taut nipples exposed, shining skin with a glisten of sweat as you panted, and Azriel merely smirked when you looked back to him. “I hate that you’re such a fucking brute.”

His hands skimmed down your body, silently pushing away the rest of the material until it could pool at your feet, cold air sweeping in from the open window and making goosebumps rise along your exposed flesh, nothing but your panties and your crown left on your body now. He was still dressed, it was entirely unfair, and you began to tug with unsteady hands at the clasps holding his leathers shut.

“I hate these fucking leathers.” The front came loose, your hands smoothing over his ribs to behind his body, drawing the two of you ever the closer as his hands roamed across your hips, toying with the lace scrap covering you.

“No, you don’t.” He knew just how good he looked in them, a spark in his eyes that said he knew what he did to you, the arrogant prick, and whatever semblance of softness had formed in the last few seconds was wiped back out by the smug look he wore, your anger sparking at him once again.

But, he was right, and when he snapped the elastic against your skin, kissing along every mark he’d made on your neck already, your gasp was submission enough for him. “No, I don’t.”

“Good girl,” He mumbled, a rasp to his voice that made you heady with the thrill, nipping at your collarbone enough to make you jerk against him. His body only pressed you further into the wall. His fingers skimmed down, over the front of your panties, pressing at your clit softly through the material, and you were putty in his hands. He dragged the drenched material covering you to the side, one finger skimming through your folds, and you swore you forgot how to breathe as the anticipation became suffocating. “See how much better it all is when you tell the truth?”

A single, long finger slammed into you, sheathed in a single movement and a scream tore from your lips in shock. Your back arched, body curling as his thumb found your clit, pressing in rough circles that had you gasping against the hand still curled loosely at your throat. “Oh, fuck, Azriel..”

His finger crooked, rough scars dragged against you as he pulled it back, only to slam in again. It was an assault, the kind of stimulation that made your breaths shallow, eyes rolling back in your head, hips jutting up to roll into his palm as he used that single digit to throw you into ecstasy. Your fingers felt numb as you continued to tug at his leathers, as those final buckles behind his back you hadn’t managed, tearing at them until your fingertips hurt and they finally came loose.

You shoved at them, dragging them from his body in a frantic motion to get your hands on as much of him as he had of you, your breasts bouncing with every rough pound of his finger into your core. A hiss left his lips as a buckle grazed the bottom of his wing, wings that flared out as you finally stripped him of his leathers, more heavy fabric dropping between you both and revealing miles of inked, golden skin for you to explore.

There was a dark look in his eyes, one as dark as it had been days ago, only for entirely new reasons, and instead of scaring you, this one set every cell in your body alight. He met you halfway, instinct acting for you both as your mouths clashed together, a hot mess of tongues and lips as he claimed dominance over every part of you. That free hand slid up, until he was rolling one nipple between a thumb and forefinger, pinching to make you cry out, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

“I spent months imagining what kinds of sounds you’d make for me, but nothing compares to the sweet sound of my name on your lips.” He pressed a simple peck there, like a drug you were already hooked on you followed for more, and he slipped his hand back to your throat, pressing you back into the wall. His finger stilled for just a second, your body clenching ceaselessly around it, and you whimpered, needing him to keep going. “Say it again.”

“Earn it, and I will.” Your hips bucked against his hand, a challenge sparked in his eyes, and his hand moved. His touch left you entirely, until he was stepping back, only his hand at your throat keeping you from following him, from pathetically latching yourself to him as you stared. He looked like a god of old; rippling muscles flexing with every breath, whorls of dark ink, messy hair that matched, swollen lips still shining with your kisses, and eyes bright as he stared at you in the same way. “Azriel, please.”

“There we go.” He muttered, thumb swiping across your jaw in a soothing reward, your head tipped a little further into his touch as his hand slipped up to cup your face. He leaned in, dipping so close your lips parted, and he diverted just as his mouth brushed yours. A kiss to your jaw, to your neck, a flick of his tongue over your nipple as he lowered himself further and further, until he was mouthing at the sensitive skin below your navel. Your panties were dragged down your hips until you were stepping out of them, and when he looked up at you from his knees, you swore reverence and devotion lay in his eyes. He kissed at your knee, then the other, hands on your ankles yanking your legs apart and you grasped at the wall for balance.

“You’ve moaned my name for me, but now I want you to scream it.”

His tongue swept along your core, punctuating his sentence and your entire body keened, almost collapsing into him right then and there. He did it again, rough strokes that ended at your clit, your fingers lacing into his hair, pulling on it while pushing him closer. His lips sealed around the bud at the apex of your thighs, sucking harshly as fingers crawled up from your ankles once again, swiping through the mess you were surely making, swirling in the build-up gathered there.

You gasped, a whispered plea falling from your lips but even you didn’t know what for. He seemed to know, the tip of his tongue swirling lightly at your entrance, before sipping inside, wet muscle stretching you slowly, thicker than the width of that one finger, and every thought emptied from your head.

The cool breeze from the window did little to soothe the heat inside of you, did nothing to ease the tremors wracking your body as you jerked and pleased, his tongue fucking you as his thumb played with your clit, filthy sounds that would haunt you every night when you touched yourself for the rest of the night as he moaned against you. “Oh, gods, Az..”

“I thought I told you to scream, sweetheart.” Two fingers slammed into your body in place of his tongue as he moved his attention back to your throbbing bud, and scream you did. His name bounced off of the walls, and you didn’t care if every worker and every guard and every citizen in all of Dusk could hear him taking you apart, you needed him more badly than you needed oxygen.

He bit at you, just enough to tease, before soothing licks were taking over once again and you were rocking your hips again this face, holding him where he was, his name like a mantra on your lips over and over as he carried you toward the brink of the best orgasm you’d ever had. It was building, like an inferno, burning you up from the inside out, and when you came, it was with a scream that snapped off to silence, head thrown back and banging on the wall so hard it hurt. The throb eddied away, as everything in you focused on the way he kept going, riding you through it like it pleased him as much as it pleased you.

If the noises he was making between your thighs were anything to go by, he was.

He didn’t stop, fingers still going, your body spasming as he took your pleasure for his own, moaning against you as he licked up everything you had to give. When your legs buckled, he lifted one knee over his shoulder, supporting your weight with his own frame and diving even deeper.

Wet fingers pulled out of you, gripping your other thigh and hauling that one over his shoulder two, smearing your arousal across your skin as his tongue moved back to where it had once been, sending a sharp surge of pleasure so acute up your spine you felt like you’d been electrified.

“Azriel.. Az.. oh, fuck, I can’t- I-”

“I want you to come again, on my tongue this time. Let me feel you, sweetheart.” Your head was tossed back, whimpering weakly against the wall as he worked, your body never relaxing as he worked you right into another orgasm, dirty whispers from between your thighs with the abuse of his tongue and lips until everything was shaking and trembling, the room spinning with dizzy bliss.

A single finger, again, knowing it was enough that one finger could drive you wild as he pressed down on that spot inside of you that made a scream louder than the rest break free. He knew you, knew your body like he’d had you for years, and you called for his attention by yanking on that bond in his chest as tears welled in your eyes, so fucked out you could barely even draw breath. He ignored it, pace only picking up.

He didn’t stop, not the rough drags of his tongue over your clit, so sensitive every touch felt like delicious torture, not as you shook and pulled on his hair, hips bucking.

He didn’t stop, not until he was the only thing holding you up now, as tears streamed down your face, your desperate begging falling on deaf ears, until you pulled his head away from your abused core by a handful of his hair.

Golden skin glistened, and you took shaking breaths, head falling back against the wall as your body twitched. That one finger slipped out of you, a broken cry leaving your lips as a gush of your arousal followed, and he twisted his head, a wet kiss pressed to the inside of your thigh, marking you with your own scent.

He lowered one of your legs to the ground, the other following, and your knees buckled, his arm sliding around your waist and acting as the only thing holding you up as he rose to his feet once again. He kissed as he went, kisses that would taste like you, kisses to every twitching muscle, every spot that was still trembling, until his forehead was pressed to your own, soothing strokes of a big hand over your ribs as you calmed, hiccuping through your breaths as you recovered.

“What a mess you are, look at you,” His words were mean, but his tone was soft, and you whimpered, nudging your nose against his own, any shred of affection would warm you. You were scared, scared that he’d take you apart, break you down and reduce you to tears and then leave. “If only your kingdom could see you now, crying for the bastard.”

Your lips parted, words ready to roll off your tongue when his mouth closed over your own, a surprised moan leaving you as his tongue languidly spread the taste of yourself to your own mouth, his skin still damp with your juices, his slick finger tipping up your chin. A mess indeed.

“What was it you were going to say? You finally wanted to speak up?” He was mocking you, stealing your words from you.

“You’re-” He did it again, silencing you with his lips, lazy kisses that you could get lost in, hands exploring every inch of one another’s body slowly as that frantic haze had cooled into something far more passionate now.

“Try harder, High Lady.”

“I said, you-” Again, his mouth quieted you, and despite your whine, despite your desperation to speak, you clung to him, arms thrown around his neck as his found a home around your waist, hauling you his body until you were on your tiptoes to kiss him. His hips sat snugly to your body, his erection pressing firmly into your hip as layers of thick leather tried to hold him back, tried to hide just how much he wanted you.

His mouth left your own, lips soothing softer kisses over the drying tear tracks on your cheeks as you panted.

“I’m trying to say,” You paused, waiting to see if he’d cut you off again, but he didn’t. You cupped his face, pulling him back to be able to truly look at him now. His brows were furrowed, lips twisted in a frown; he was just as prepared for more pain as you were, and your heart broke at the sight. The last thing you’d ever wanted to do was hurt him, not when you loved him this much. “You’re not a bastard, Azriel. Not here. Not with me.”

He let himself sink into the moment, the love, for just a second, before adoration was glazing over with lust once again. It took little effort for him to scoop you up, for him to stride with you in his arms across the room, and to toss you down onto the bedding. Shadows writhed across it, encasing you both in murky darkness, sliding away to the floor in sated reams as Azriel stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you.

You knelt up, crawling towards him and smoothing your hands up his chest as his own fingers toyed with the laces of his leathers, freeing his cock, and tossing his head back with a groan as he wrapped his fingers around himself. “Oh, fuck. You have no idea how many times I’ve touched myself, just like this, thinking of you.”

“Yeah?” You kissed his jaw, his free hand smoothing around your waist, over your ass, dipping down until he could thrust two fingers into you in a single motion, and your body toppled forward into his. “Oh, fuck, Azriel…”

“Imagined what you’d feel like wrapped around me,” his fingers moved, pounding within you at the same pace he pumped his cock, matching thrust for thrust until you were shaking against him once again. “How good you’d take me. Imagined my cum dripping out of you, making a mess on all these expensive silk sheets. I imagined fucking you dumb, until you couldn't lie anymore, couldn't even speak anything except my name.”

You were teetering on the edge of an orgasm, one that was ruined as he pulled back, and your nails scraped lines into his chest as you clawed at him desperately, at his arm, pulling his hand back to your body, gasping his name as the feeling ebbed away. He kicked off the remaining clothes he wore, hands closing over your hips, turning you around and tossing you like a rag-doll, dragging you up to bed until you were where he wanted you.

Giving it all up, ass up in the air, forehead to the mattress, surrendering everything to him, and he teased the head of his cock through your folds, nudging against your oversensitive bud until you cried out, writhing in his tight hold. There would be fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips in the morning, you had no doubt.

The crown atop your head rolled off as you bucked back against him, the head of his thick cock gliding into you, thick enough to stretch you out, jaw going slack at the slight burn even that offered. He paused, fingers flexing on your hips.

“Put that back on. I want to look at it while I fuck you, princess.”

Indignant rage sparked in your chest as he leaned over you, planting the crown haphazardly on your head, having the gall to not only handle it, handle you, so roughly, but to demote you within your bedroom. “I’m a fucking queen.”

“Not in this room. In this room, you’re just my cock-drunk little slut,” He sheathed himself within you in one solid thrust, your fingers twisting in the bedsheets as nothing short of a pornographic sound left your lips. He didn't go slow, he didn’t go gentle. He treated you as he always had, not royalty, not something to be protected, but his equal.

He was angry, at himself and at you, at the world, and it showed.

Every thrust that had his hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin bouncing around the room as you tried to push back, body trembled as you hurtled towards another mind-bending orgasm, every point he touched lighting up like standing too close to a flame. He was your everything, every sense and cell honing in on him, the bond in your chest glowing with so much light you felt heat pouring off of it, felt the vibrations as you panted, screaming his name in broken thrusts as he fucked you.

He was right, you were no queen in this room. You were debauched, ruined, covered in the smell of sex and cum, his mess, his mate.

Yet, despite it all, something far more important shimmered underneath. It showed in the softer touches, the smooth of his fingers over your ribs, the kisses placed on every still-fading bruise along your spine as he made his way up your body, covering you more and more. It showed in the way he held you, reverent and needy, even in his anger.

He all but smothered you as he leaned over you, needy pants of your name spilling from his lips as he reduced you to nothing but ash, sweeping away on the wind, and it became more than just sex. It wasn’t hate fucking, it wasn’t just two people giving up to the tension, it was mates finding one another, it was so much more. His hand closed over your own on the bedding, lips pressing to your shoulder as he fucked into you, whispers of your name in your ear.

“You might give the orders outside of this bedroom, but just look how well you take mine. Now, cum.”

Your body sparked alive, the knot in your stomach snapping and it was only his arm around your hips holding you up as he fucked you through it that stopped you from falling into a twitching mess on the bedding, your arousal seeping from you, dripping down your legs, making exactly the kind of mess he had wanted. His thrusts faltered a little, the growls and moans he’d been making were becoming needier, frantic, his wings flaring out and covering the two of you like a shield from the world as he neared his own high.

Your fingers parted beneath his hand, spreading until his own digits fell through the cracks, wrapping around yours in the bedding until he was holding on so tightly you thought he may even leave an imprint. You wanted him to. You’d get it tattooed if you could.

“Azriel..” He groaned, the only indication he was listening at all, and you twisted your head to him, his forehead pressed into your shoulder from behind as he sat snugly up against you, hips snapping together frantically. “Az, honey, I want to face you when you cum. I want to see you.”

“Oh, fuck..”

His motions were jerky, quick, like he couldn't trust himself not to cum as he pulled back, stepping away from you entirely. You rolled onto your back, propped up on weak elbows to look at him. He was destroyed, shining with sweat that made him look like he was glowing, wings drooped out by his sides, shadows twisting around his ankles and calves, cock glistening with your arousal, standing tall before himself, and he bit a swollen lip as he let you stare.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful, and so fucking good for me..”

“Come here, Azriel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, falling back into your arms, body crushed down, pulled in, by the weight of whatever was shifting between you both. When he slid into you once again, his fingers wove with your own, pinning you down to the bed and setting a harsh rhythm, chasing his own high as you both balanced on the edge. “I hate you..”

You could barely breathe, his gaze locked on your own, fingers squeezed together as you bucked up to meet him, back arching against the bed, ecstasy drowning you in waves and you were clinging to his words for air.

“I hate you, because I don’t hate you at all. I love you more than anything in this fucking world.” His confession sent you tumbling over the edge into another orgasm, your eyes rolling back in your head, crown tipped to one side, and when your lips parted, he dipped down, mouth meeting yours.

This was different to all the other kisses, it wasn’t threats and anger and hurt, it was promises and love and forgiveness, it was intoxicating, it was blissful, and you could barely kiss back, but it didn’t matter. His mouth stilled, groaning long and deep into your mouth, a cry of your name as his whole body locked.

Heat exploded as he came, filling you up so deep, so much that you could feel it leaking out of you around him even as he stayed tucked deep inside of you, his hips pressed to yours. You panted, tasting him on every breath as he came, your fingers running soothing touches along his body like he had done for you, until he collapsed down. Too weak to hold himself up, too weak to leave, strong enough to come back at all.

Your arms looped around his body, linking behind his back as his wings dropped their tension, following down, shadows crawling up over your bodies like a blanket. You stayed like that, long enough to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Long enough to clear the fog from your mind, allow you to think clearly once again. Long enough to feel the cold from the open window, to feel the weight of him pressing down, your only source of warmth.

Long enough to feel him start to grow restless.

You freed one hand from his back, selfishly stealing another moment or two for yourself before he was gone, running your fingers through silky, damp hair and trying to commit every part of him to memory, before he was nothing but a ghost, only living on in your memories.

He pushed himself up on shaky arms, his warmth leaving you as he rolled away from you and onto his back, wings tucked tight to his body, and he stared at the ceiling. You felt used, his cum still leaking from you, hating how good it felt when you knew the pain that was coming. It was almost enough to make you sick.

“I’m sorry, Azriel.”

His head twisted in your direction, brows furrowed, and you could see him from your peripherals but couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze properly. Instead, you sat up, crown discarded in the bedding, the last piece of armour taken off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But, more than that, I’m sorry I never came to find you. I couldn't but that didn’t mean I never thought about you, before I ever knew who you were.”

His fingers reached out, dragging along your spine until they fell to the bed, a phantom touch you’d remember for the rest of your life. Comfort, even when you didn’t necessarily deserve it.

“For centuries, I’ve dreamed of meeting you, of meeting my mate. I walked to that border so many times, held my hand over the air until I was too close, until the spell burned my fingertips and warned me back, until the pain was too much to bear. So many times I wished I could come and find you. I knew you had to be out there, over the years I was sure if you were here, I’d have known you, you were right on the other side of that goddamn barrier and I couldn't get to you. When my father died and that wall came crashing down, I felt awful, because I didn’t feel awful at all. No sorrow or sadness for a cruel man, all I felt was relief, and happiness, and freedom, even if I was chained to a throne.”

You took a deep breath, no tears coming at the memory of your father or the kingdom you now had, but tears came at the idea of doing it all alone, forever. You’d had love, you’d had Azriel, and if come morning he was gone, you knew you’d likely never love again.

“If it’s been too long, if my cowardice of losing you when I finally had you pushed you too far, if it’s too late and it hurts too much, I will understand. I will love you no matter where you are Azriel, but I don’t expect you to love me back if it hurts, and I won’t blame you if-”

You felt the bed shift, turning to look at where Azriel was now sitting up, his hand finding your cheek as his lips closed over yours. The tears in your eyes spilt over once again as he kissed you, smearing between your cheeks as he gave his best to show you how he felt. “I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t know, what it was like for you, how scared you were. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words only brought a fresh wave of sobs, disbelief still etched into your mind, and he kissed along your cheeks, soft strums on the bond that felt like kisses to your spirit as he eased you across, back down toward the bed with him until you lay facing one another.

“I love you. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You said you were! You were going to leave me at dawn, you were-” He mumbled an apology onto your lips, coaxing you to kiss him back until the frantic fear you felt had ebbed away. He ran the back of a finger over your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“I think it would kill me to leave you now.” Azriel lay his head down on the pillow you used, his nose brushing yours with every deep breath he took, concern still swimming in his eyes as he watched you. “I was scared too.”

“I know.”

“But you were wrong to hide it from me. We have to tell the truth from now on, I have to know your heart fully.”

“My heart is already yours, Azriel.” He only smiled, the first honest and genuine smile you’d seen since that fateful morning at breakfast before everything had gone wrong. “The truth, always, I prom-”

His hand cupped over your mouth, eyes wide as he stared. “Do you know what making a promise to someone from the Night Court means?”

“I do.” Your words were muffled behind his hand, his eyes only widening further. “And I promise, Azriel, to always be honest, even if it scares me. To love you the way you deserve to be loved, if you’ll let me.”

Your wrist burned, a sharp strike of pain before it was vanishing, and Azriel lowered his hand from your mouth, agape as you took in the new mark on your wrist. A small, perfect whorl now marred perfect skin, and you smoothed your thumb over it. He took your wrist gently, raising your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it softly. “I promise to match that, to match you, with honesty and love.”

He didn’t flinch as a matching mark formed on his own wrist, but when you kissed it like he had done for you, he smiled. That arm then snuck out, over your hips, tugging you in closer until there was barely a sliver of space between you anymore. Your hand smoothed through his hair again, before coming to rest on his cheek, a look of love on his face you thought you would never see. “I’m so happy I found you.”

“What made you come to the Night Court? When you realised you were in danger from one of your own people, you could have gone to anyone. Day would have been safer, Helion would have been able to trace the spell on you, and believed you right away. You wouldn't have had to convince him as you did Rhysand. Or Dawn, or even Summer. Why Night, when we had a reputation even you must’ve heard.”

You didn’t really have an answer, but he wanted one. “I don’t know. I just felt like that was the place to go. It felt like the right decision.” Azriel tugged twice at the bond between your bodies, already so strong, you could only imagine how much stronger it would get once you’d officially confirmed it.

“It’s going to be hard, y’know.” He rolled away, rasp in his voice as he untucked the blankets from your bodies, lifting them up and over you both slowly, his shadows pushing shut the open windows silently.

“What is?”

“This.” He waved a finger between your bodies as he settled back in, sitting up among the pillows and letting a heavy sigh out, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “Hiding this, I mean.”

“Why would we hide it?”

Insecurity crept in, and a ragged sigh left him as you felt his own equal insecurities come flooding toward you. It was accompanied by sadness, and longing for you, even though you were right there. It broke your heart, it broke his heart, and you had no idea why. “I’m.. I’m your bodyguard. I’m a hired killer from the Night Court, it would not be approved of. It would make your life so hard.”

It was like a splash of freezing water, like stepping in the crystal pools of Dusk in the depths of the winter season, frozen right down to the bones within seconds. Reality was a bitch. Pressing your lips together, you sighed, a single thought flittering through your head and as you tried to suppress it, the bond on your wrist burned, hot and painful until the words spilled from you; “I’ll abdicate.”

“No. You can’t.” He shook his head, you both knew it wasn’t an option. “You worked so hard to build this kingdom back up, to make relations with other courts, to make alliances, you love it.”

“I love you more.”

“I won’t let you give it up.” His voice was firm, an end of discussion, and hard boundary, but there was one more option. You didn’t need the prompt of your promise this time.

“Fine. Then you become King.”

A startling laugh left him, self-pitying and shy, and you stared, unwavering until he calmed. “I can’t be a king.”

“Says who?”

He didn’t laugh this time, he just lay, quietly, holding your gaze for as long as he could bare it before you felt his shame force him to snap away, swallowing thickly against the upcoming tidal wave of emotion he was doubtless fighting. “I can’t.. I wasn’t born for this. I was born for war and blood, I’m a bastard and a brute from the Steppes. I can’t rule. I’m not noble. I’m already a tarnish on you.”

“Do you know where shadowsingers come from?”

“What?” He was covered with confusion once again as he dared to turn back to look at you, at the change in topic. “They come from the dark.”

“No, Azriel, they do not.” Your fingers reached out, dipping into the swirling mass of black that surrounded you both, and a single shadow crawled up your arm, Azriel’s eyes widening as he realised it was not acting of his own accord, nor his, but yours. “There are no shadows in the dark, Azriel. Shadows require light to exist. Shadows do not come from Night as there is no light, they do not come from Day as it is too bright, nor Dawn, as dawn is the awakening, not the sleep. Shadowsingers come from Dusk. That is why there are so few in your world, because the genes stopped being passed down. I don’t know how repressed, how far back, but you, my love, have Dusk blood running through your veins. This is your heritage, right here.”

Azriel was speechless, a sudden breath leaving him as his chest deflated, and he turned to face you a little more. “There’s more like me?��

“Many more, Azriel. I had no idea you thought you were alone. I’ve met hundreds of shadowsingers in my lifetime.” He let out a wet laugh, shock taking over his face as he flopped back into the pillows, one hand scrubbing down his face. “You belong here, and if you want to go back to Night, I will abdicate. If you want to stay, I’ll crown you King myself. But I will not love you in secret, Azriel. Not when I have so much love to give you.”

“You have too much faith in me.” His voice wavered, but it sounded like he’d made his mind up as he took a shaky breath.

“Well, I have to have enough faith for us both until you believe in yourself.” Picking up the discarded crown, you knelt up, and raised it high enough to place shimmering gold into his hair, adjusting it perfectly and brushing the hair it flattened away from his face. “What a handsome High Lord you’d make.”

You teased him with his own wording, a term that had been overruled by your father to place distance between yourselves and the other courts, and one you looked forward to taking back. His grin split his face like sunshine through clouds, nervous laughter following as he reached up to touch it.

“And what a pretty smile. You’ll have everyone eating from the palm of your hand in no time, they’ll like you more than me.”

“Impossible.” He leaned in, sweeping you up and into a kiss, one that was bursting with smiles and laughter and love, and your hands came up, holding the crown firmly to his head as it tipped. You’d make him his very own, one that was his, that showed just how much he meant, and you’d place it on his head yourself. Crown him before everyone. Your love, your mate, your High Lord. “It’s heavy.”

“It takes some getting used to.” You whispered back, stealing a couple more kisses from him before settling back, admiring him lounging in the bed. Naked, silk sheets pooled low around his waist, crown sitting askew in his hair with a smile on his lips.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Rhys’ face when he realises he’s not the only High Lord in the family, now.”

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