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thegreyjoyed · 13 days ago

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Smothered Flames - Pt. 1

a/n: part one of a new fic! there will only be two parts, and the second one should be up by tomorrow (I promise I'm also working on a part 2 for you make it better, I've seen all your requests, and thank you for the love)

pairing: Azriel x Vanserra!Reader

content warnings: language, anxiety attack, allusions to past trauma

word count: 6.5k

synopsis: You were the Vanserras' best kept secret. That is, until you followed Eris to the Night Court, and you ended up finding more than you bargained for.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

The faint sound of dripping water echoed around you. You counted the continuous drops until you lost track, then started over, and over, and over again. You sat propped against a stone wall, its roughly hewn surface scratching against your skin any time you shifted. The only source of light was a dim orange glow that emanated from so far down the hall that it only barely let you make out the iron bars of your cell. You held your hand up in front of your face, wincing at the sharp pain that radiated through your shoulder at the movement. Those bastards probably fractured something.

You could barely make out the shape of your hand in the suffocating darkness. You weakly lowered it back down to your side, leaning your head back against the wall. Your face was stiff with dried blood from the scrape you earned along your hairline, and your throat was dry from hours without water. You wondered how long they would keep you here. How long until someone came to interrogate you, to inflict pain worse than a head scrape and fractured shoulder? Maybe they would just leave you here until the darkness and silence drove you mad, or until you died of thirst. You didn’t let your mind wander any further, didn’t let yourself think about all the cruel and wicked stories you had heard about the Night Court.

You never should have followed Eris. You should have minded your own damn business and let him do whatever the hell it was he had wrapped himself up in. He has been disappearing for days out a time for months, though, and you were worried. You were worried your father might have pulled him into some wretched plan of his that would only end up getting Eris killed. It was no secret that Eris would be the next High Lord, and everyone knew he was the least malleable for your father and his courtesans to shape and mold. He got away with it though by acting just as wretched as the male ordering him around, slipping into a facade that hid his true intentions and heart. No, your brother was not cruel, despite what the world thought, and you knew if you didn’t look out for him, no one else would.

You supposed the sentiment behind your fool’s mission was fair, but the execution of it was grossly miscalculated. A fact you quickly realized when you came face to face with Night Court soldiers in the snowy woods outside their main city. They did not hesitate to detain you, shoving you hard to the ground the second you turned to run, and then dragged you underground and into this musty and dark cell. Eris likely didn’t even know you were here, wasn’t even aware that you still had access to the tracking spells he had given you during the war. Your chest tightened. You were going to die down here, and Eris might never know what happened to you.

The sound of muffled voices made you freeze. The voices grew closer and closer, their heavy footsteps echoing loudly against the walls.

“This better be damn important.”

“It is, sir,” a nervous voice replied.

Another voice, much less reverent, sneered “If you didn’t want to be bothered, you should have just let us do away with her. I’m sure Kier could have found some use for the pretty thing.”

A chill wracked your body, and you couldn’t stop the trembles that overtook you.

A beat of silence filled the tunnel again, then the first voice growled, “You’d do well to remember who you’re speaking to.”

“I report to Kier,” the male replied haughtily.

“And I outrank Kier,” the other male sneered. “Keep that in mind.”

Three large silhouettes appeared in the darkness outside your cell, and you swore the one in the middle had wings. Oh gods. You felt his eyes on you, as if he was analyzing every shaky breath you took and every tremor that shook you. You supposed it would make sense for the Night Court fae to have exceptional vision in the dark.

“Why is she here?” the male asked.

The meek one answered, “We found her outside a few hours ago, in the woods. We believe she is from the Autumn Court.”

Your skin prickled with anxiety. They hadn’t seen your ring with the Vanserra family insignia. You balled your hand into a fist, hiding the gold band from sight.

The cell door slid open with a deafening screech, and you winced as the winged male stalked toward you. He crouched in front of you slowly, and when the gems adorning him flared with a cobalt blue glow, you could barely make out the harsh lines of his cheekbones and the cold eyes staring at you. The darkness around him seemed to pulse, and your heart lurched at the realization of who exactly they had sent to deal with you.

The Shadowsinger. All of your brothers loathed the male. Some of them used to whisper taunts and threats in your ear that the Shadowsinger would come to steal you away in the middle of the night if you didn’t do something they demanded of you. Sometimes they did it just to be cruel, to watch the tears well up in your eyes. Decades had passed and you were no longer the sniveling child that they would taunt with scary stories, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still cruel, that they hadn’t found new ways to torment you when Eris wasn’t around. You wondered if their cruelty was about to seem like child’s play once the Shadowsinger had his way with you.

You jolted at the cool touch of his skin on your wrist. His fingers dug slightly into the skin, pulling your hand to him and forcing your fingers to unfurl. He examined the exposed ring, the familial crest you had turned inward to your palm. You hated the damned thing, really, but Eris had given it to you. He made you promise to wear it, and so you did. You never took it off.

The Shadowsinger hummed softly, then growled to the other males. “Leave, and get me Cassian.”

His grip on your wrist never weakened, and you struggled to swallow the fear bubbling up in your throat. You were still trembling, skin littered with goosebumps. You thought you might vomit, until finally, after minutes of silence passed, the male asked with a chilling, quiet voice, “What is a female like you doing wearing the Vanserra family crest?”

Your stomach dropped. Of course he knew your crest. Of course he could make it out clearly in the dark. You didn’t know what to say. No one outside the Forest House knew you existed, and no one outside your family knew your heritage. The accidental daughter of the High Lord of Autumn born centuries after their youngest son. A daughter with little to no magic in her blood, not compared to her brothers. An embarrassment. A mistake. For seventy years you had been hidden away in that court, rarely getting to even take a breath of fresh air unless Eris stole you away for a ride through the forest. You had no training to protect yourself with, no idea how to withstand an interrogation, torture.

“Fine,” the male said smoothly. “Don’t tell me. We’ll find out some other way.”

He stood up from where he was crouched on the ground, dropping your wrist abruptly, the pain in your shoulder contorting your face. He took note of the reaction, the obvious pain you were in, but said nothing. Panic clawed at your throat, squeezing around it tighter and tighter. “It was a mistake,” you rasped out. Your eyes were wide, and you were sure you looked pathetic. Trembling and bloody on the ground.

“What was?” he asked, voice hard.

You shook your head. “I shouldn’t have been in these woods. I didn’t know that’s where I would end up. I was just following—” you cut yourself off.

He took another step closer, the toe of his boot brushing your own damp one. “Following who?” His voice was so cold and dark it sent another chill through you.

“Me, I presume.”

Your head swiveled toward the familiar voice so fast that you were shocked your neck didn’t snap. Your brother stepped inside, moving toward you on steady feet, but his eyes were aglow with fiery anger. A sob of relief escaped you, and your shoulders curled in on yourself as the adrenaline fueling you finally crashed. He knelt beside you, tilting your head gently to look at the scrape on your head. His eyes snapped to Azriel. “Did you do this?” he growled.

“No,” the Shadowsinger snapped. “Two of Kier’s men found her,” he said pointedly, “and they brought her here.”

Eris’s breathing was heavy with barely restrained anger.

“Eris,” you started quietly.

“Not now,” he said lowly.

“Do you care to explain yourself, Eris?” another midnight smooth voice drawled from the cell entrance. Your eyes darted over to him, failing to have noticed the two other males that had followed your brother. One of them had wings and glowing gems like the Shadowsinger, only his were red instead of blue.

You knew Eris was seething, and a small part of you feared what he would say to you once you were alone again. There was no denying that you had royally fucked up. Eris said with that fake haughty drawl he donned around everyone, “Once you fetch my sister a healer and some dry clothes, gladly.”

The silence and tension was palpable with his reveal. You weren’t sure if the shudder that went through you was from your anxiety about the revelation to these Night Court males, or from the still ebbing adrenaline that had wreaked havoc on your body for the last few hours.

Eris’s hands skimmed down your shoulders before easing you up by the arm. His hands were so warm, and you once again envied his fire magic. His head turned to the other males. “Now,” he snapped.

~ ~ ~

You were bundled in a sweater, leggings, and wool socks that smelt of jasmine. A thick wool blanket was wrapped around you, and a gentle healer worked diligently on your shoulder as your brother paced behind you. The room they had winnowed you to was lavish and ornate, and open. There were no windows because the room led to a vast outdoor balcony that was only separated by billowing drapes. You couldn’t deny the relief you felt when you realized you were out from that cold and dark mountain. You had expected them to give you some old rags to change into, maybe in a room with light, but certainly not this.

The healer finished her work, the throbbing of your shoulder reduced to a dull ache and the gash on your head sealed shut. Your hair was still in disarray, but at least some of the dirt and blood had been wiped from your skin. You were still trembling slightly, both from anxiety and a lingering chill. Once the healer left you and Eris alone, you turned your head slowly to face him. He ignored your stare, continuing to pace slowly back and forth.

“Eris,” you murmured.

He glanced at you briefly, but he said nothing.

“Eris,” you said again, voice pleading.

“Not now, Y/N,” he snapped.

You sucked in a breath, absorbing the sting inflicted by his harsh tone. Despite it, you still said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes locked on yours, softening slightly. He let out a long sigh and ran a hand over his face, halting his incessant pacing. “I know you are,” he breathed out. “But what were you thinking? How did you even know where I went?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I was thinking that my brother had been acting suspiciously for months, and if I had noticed, it was only a matter of time before someone else did.” Then, a bit more sheepishly, you said, “I used the tracking spell you gave me during the war.” His eyes narrowed, and you hurried to add, “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. That you weren’t in over your head with something or that our father hadn’t roped you into an inescapable scheme.”

He muttered something under his breath, looking to the ceiling. “You are too clever for your own good.”

You scoffed. “Hardly.”

His narrowed eyes fixed on you. “I have a tentative alliance with the Night Court,” he admitted softly.

Your eyes widened. “The Night Court?”

“Yes,” he sighed, moving to sit in the armchair beside yours. “We have a mutual interest in removing Beron from his throne.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, to demand a better explanation, but he cut you a scathing look. “And that is all, I will tell you about the matter. It is not safe for you to know anything about this. It’s not safe for you to be here, period.”

You glanced at the closed double doors, knowing it was only a matter of time before members of that court came storming in. You worried your lip between your teeth. “Eris,” you said softly. “They know about me now.”

He let out another long breath, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the back of the chair. “Indeed.”

You didn’t really appreciate the nonchalance he held. If they treated you like that without knowing who you were, what would they do to you now? Would they try to hold you over Eris? “Eris,” you urged, the fear in your voice making him look at you. “What are they going to do to me?”

He frowned at that, leaning forward. “They aren’t going to do anything to you.”

“But, the Night Court knows about me. I’m not supposed to exist, Eris, and now they know—”

He put a firm hand on your shoulder, cutting off your nervous rambling. “They aren’t going to hurt you, okay? I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You have to trust me.”

“But, Eris—”

He squeezed your shoulder. “You know that facade of mine you hate so much?” You nodded. “Well, the Night Court has similar…tactics,” he said, albeit a bit reluctantly. You both turned toward the door at the sound of footsteps in the hall. “Just let me talk to them,” he said quickly, then stood up as the three males walked through the doors.

The male in the middle had violet eyes that promised violence, and you blanched a little at the sight of the powerful High Lord. “Start talking, Eris,” he demanded.

Eris folded his hands behind his back, slipping into a role of indifference he knew how to play all too well. “This lovely female you had locked in that dark and dingy cell is my younger sister, Y/N.”

The Shadowsinger snarled, “You don’t have a sister.”

Eris raised his brows. “That you knew of.”

“Why keep her a secret for��” the High Lord trailed off, his eyes locked on you. “How old are you?”

You swallowed, answering quietly, “Seventy-three.”

Eris cut you a glare that was clearly a reminder to let him talk. The High Lord’s brows rose at the number, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you had been hidden for decades or because you were not even a century old.

“So you’ve kept her hidden for seven decades…why?”

Eris seemed to mull over his answer, his hesitance his first display of unease with the situation. You were shocked when he said truthfully, “My father thinks she is an embarrassment to the family.” Your cheeks heated at the words. “He is a bastard that only cares about power, and Y/N does not seem to possess the characteristic fire of a Vanserra. He does not wish her absence of power to tarnish his reputation.”

“But she can winnow,” the male with red siphons pointed out.

“Yes. She is not powerless, she’s just different. That doesn’t matter to my father, though,” Eris said with disdain. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, looking down at your lap in shame. No matter how much Eris assured you that he didn’t care how much power you had, that it wasn’t your fault you didn’t have fire in your veins, it still ate away at your insides.

You slowly looked up at the Shadowsinger across the room, your cheeks flushing further when you realized his eyes were already locked on you. You couldn’t decipher his cool, stoic expression, but his eyes didn’t leave you while his High Lord questioned your brother. You dragged your gaze away again, focusing on your trembling hands in your lap.

“And you? Why did you hide her? Why not tell us?”

A beat of silence passed. “She is good,” Eris said quietly. “She is nothing like my brothers. At first, I followed along with my father’s orders just to keep her safe from turmoil. Then keeping her secret meant keeping her away from Amarantha. Then, I didn’t want her involved with this, but it seems that plan is void now.” He looked at you again.

“You said no one could follow you,” the red-siphoned male snapped. “How much has she heard? Who else has been trailing you?”

“She is the only exception,” Eris snarled. “I gave her spells to track me during the war. In case things went awry and she needed to find me. She used them to follow me today after noticing my frequent disappearances to meet with you.” He added a bit more softly, glancing at you. “She’s the exception because she’s the only one who cares enough to notice.”

The males looked between themselves—well, the High Lord and General did. The Shadowsinger had yet to stop staring at you, his shadows slowly slithering around him, and it was incredibly unnerving. Eris seemed to notice too. “She is not a threat to you,” he snapped, glaring at the male. “So you can stop sizing her up. She’s still fucking trembling from this whole ordeal.”

You tucked your hands beneath your thighs to hide their shaking. The High Lord looked at Eris with bemused eyes, and the General looked like he had just watched him sprout a second head. Eris sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. The display of anxiety made your eyes widened. “I need you all to do me a favor.”

The High Lord scoffed. “You must be joking.”

“I’m not,” Eris growled. “I need you to keep her with you.”

The males looked bewildered, and you shot up from your seat. “Excuse me?” you asked, fear and confusion reeling through you. He wanted to leave you here?

“You have been gone for hours, Y/N,” he said to you, voice pleading. “Nearly half a day. He knows. I guarantee he knows you’re missing, and if you go back now, I do not know—,” his breath caught, “I do not know what he might do to you. What he might use this as an excuse for. You will be safer in the Night Court.”

You laughed incredulously, panic causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Safe? In the Night Court?”

His eyes were wide, begging you to listen to him, but you couldn’t understand. You knew you would be in deep shit at home, but could it really be worse than staying here with the High Lord of Night and his fearsome court? You were shaking your head when he said, “I know what stories you’ve heard. I know the shit our brothers tormented you with as a child and the rumors you heard circulating as an adult. But they are stories. I would not leave you here if I thought they would harm you.”

A tear fell down your cheek, and Eris looked like he could vomit at the sight. He tore his gaze away from you to look at the High Lord again. His eyes were wet as he simply said, “Please.”

The High Lord looked between the two of you, his General doing the same, while his Shadowsinger continued to focus his gaze on you alone. Eventually, he said, voice surprisingly soft compared to the vitriolic tone he had minutes ago, “She can stay.”

The males beside him flicked their eyes to their High Lord in surprise, even the Shadowsinger broke his stare to flash a confused look at him. “No,” the word fell from your lips without thought, and your eyes snapped from the High Lord back to Eris. “No. I am not staying here. I cannot stay here, Eris. At least in the Forest House I,” you took a shaky breath, “I have light, and books, and I know how to cope but I cannot stay here—”

“You will still have those things here,” the High Lord told you, startling you from your rambling pleas to Eris. Eris looked at you with sad eyes, but he nodded his head.

Your mouth opened and closed, your words escaping you as your mind struggled to comprehend the situation you had been thrown into.

“We will take her to Velaris,” the High Lord told Eris. He glanced at the General who gave him a terse nod. “She can stay in the House of Wind.”

Eris’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” he breathed, the gratitude clearly genuine. Gone was the typically arrogant male that swaggered around with nonchalance.

“This doesn’t mean you have free access to Velaris, though,” the High Lord said.

Panic clawed at your chest. “I won’t be able to see him?” your voice was so weak, and it made your cheeks heat in shame.

“You will,” the High Lord answered, voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re not a prisoner, but Velaris is heavily warded and protected. He will need an invitation to enter.”

Eris suddenly gripped you by the shoulders. “I am not going to force you to stay here,” he said, voice ragged. “But your only other options are to go to a safe house, alone, or back to the Forest House. Which isn’t really a true option.”

His words settled in your stomach like bricks. “You will have more freedom in Velaris than you have ever had in Autumn,” Eris assured softly.

The High Lord gave you a small, feline smile that wasn’t exactly comforting, but you supposed it wasn’t threatening. He glanced at the still as stone Shadowsinger next to him briefly, then back to you. “I think you will find more than you could ever imagine in Velaris,” he seemed to purr.

Eris stiffened, glaring at the male, but he quickly dropped the tension and looked back at you. “I’m begging you to go with them.”

You bit your lip, anxiety thrumming through you. You glanced between all of the males, desperately trying to find a way out of this, but you came up empty. The desperation in Eris’s eyes was what pushed you to nod your head in acquiescence, murmuring a soft, “Okay.”

Eris pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “I’m going to take care of Beron,” he swore to you quietly. You wrapped your shaky arms around his waist. “I promise I will. I’ll get you back home soon, once it’s safe for you to actually live there.”

He squeezed you once before pulling away, your hands slowly dropping to your sides. You both stared at each other, neither really wanting to be separated from the other.

“We should go,” the High Lord said, pulling your attention away from your brother. He held out his hand for you to take, presumably to winnow you to wherever Velaris is.

You hesitantly walked over to him, placing your hand in his reluctantly. You avoided the gazes of the other two males. “Take care of her, Rhysand,” Eris growled.

The High Lord, Rhysand, simply nodded, before wrapping the two of you in darkness.

~ ~ ~

“Why are you not in the library?”

You glanced up from the book you were reading while curled up on the sofa in the main sitting room of the House of Wind. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, was standing a few feet away from you with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Your cheeks instantly heated, and your heart rate skyrocketed under his intense gaze.

“Because she’s meeting me,” Nesta answered as she appeared from the corridor.

Azriel turned toward her. “She’s meant to be working.”

Nesta waved an irreverent hand as she moved toward you, sitting down on the cushion beside yours. You slowly closed your book, nerves making your stomach turn. You had been here for two weeks now, and you had done your best to keep your head down and do as you were told, but befriending Nesta had caused unexpected difficulties in doing so. “Clotho said it was fine,” Nesta told him. “We’re going down to the city today.”

Nervous energy mixed with excitement thrummed through your veins. Admittedly, the freedom you had in the House of Wind was more than you were ever given in the Forest House, but the prospect of visiting a city, of mingling with other faeries, had made your heart race when Nesta offered a tour.

“And Rhys approved?” Azriel asked.

Nesta arched her brow. “I wasn’t aware we needed his approval,” she drawled. “After all, ‘Y/N is not our prisoner.’”

Azriel’s nostrils flared. He glanced at you, eyes icy, before looking back at Nesta. “She is still a Vanserra.”

You winced. Somehow Azriel’s perpetual disdain for you, even after you had done your best to stay out of the way and to avoid causing problems, still stung every time you were reminded of it. It hurt, actually, like someone was piercing your chest with a white hot iron every time he glared at you or ignored you or reminded everyone of your unsavory familial relations. You couldn’t fathom why, either, for nothing he had done ever rivaled the torment of your brothers.

“She is a Vanserra in name,” Nesta seethed, standing up to face him head on. Your eyes widened. “A name that has earned her decades of abuse and neglect.” Shame heated your cheeks as she revealed snippets of what you had shared with her during your shared shifts in the library. “Tell me, Azriel,” she hissed, “Should I see you as your father’s son?”

Azriel’s eyes flared with rage, and Nesta quickly softened, posture deflating a bit. Your eyes danced between the two powerful fae. “Of course not,” she said softly. “Because you are not him, and she—” Her eyes glanced at you. “Is not her wretched family.”

A small part of you wanted to defend Eris, to tell them not to lump him in with the rest of the wicked bunch, but you were not naive to your brother’s past transgressions against the Night Court, so you kept your mouth shut. Azriel’s eyes reluctantly locked with yours. You could practically see the emotions warring within him, the conflict behind his eyes that you didn’t understand. “Apologies,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Wonderful,” Nesta crooned, voice dipped in sarcasm. “Well done, Az.” She reached for the book in your lap, sitting it on the end table, before pulling you to your feet. “Now be a nice bat, and give us a lift,” she told him as she pulled you to the balcony.

Azriel reluctantly followed, his face a mask of indifference again, but you could still see the tension limning his features. “I can only take one of you at a time,” he said, moving toward Nesta. He easily picked her up, the female looking a bit smug. His eyes met yours briefly. “I’ll be right back.” Then he shot up into the sky, the bat of his wings stirring the dust around you, and then they disappeared all together into a blur of darkness.

You stared at the fading shadows in awe. Rhys had winnowed the two of you to the House of Wind, his wings catching your terrifying free fall toward the balcony that night Eris pawned you off on their court. You had not flown again though, had not gone anywhere outside of this mountain since then.

Azriel suddenly appeared above you again, his wings slowing his descent back down to the balcony. They folded in behind him once he landed, and his eyes landed on you. Your mouth went dry as you met his hard, stoic gaze, and a spike of fear shot through you as he took a step toward you.

He froze when you took a step back, his brow crinkling. You licked your lips, folding your arms across your chest. No male had ever touched you. Eris had effectively scared off any leering sentries that knew you existed, and apart from your brother, you were never shown any sort of affection. You had come to anticipate any physical advances made by your other siblings to be acts of torment, and you suddenly didn’t know if you could handle Azriel holding you in the damn sky.

“What is it?” he asked, impatience seeping into his tone.

You swallowed hard. “You don’t like me.”

Azriel frowned. “I don’t like your family.”

“That seems to translate to you disliking me.”

Azriel shook his head, taking another step forward. You stepped back again, aware of the nearing balcony rail. He stopped again, looking you up and down. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly.

Your teeth ached from how hard your jaw was clenched. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

Azriel looked to the sky, and you weren’t sure if it was from exasperation or anger, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of this male who clearly did not like you, literally holding your life in his hands. His gaze fell back toward yours, and you were surprised by the lack of anger in his eyes.

“You can winnow, yes?”

You nodded slowly. He moved toward the edge of the balcony, pointing to a rocky ridge half way down the mountain. “If you jump from here, and wait until you pass that ridge, you’ll be outside of the House’s wards.” You stared at him, and he lifted his brows. “Then you can winnow to the city.”

A new trepidation sluiced through your veins. “What if I don’t winnow in time?”

“I’ll catch you.”

You immediately started to protest, but he cut you off, “Or would you rather I let you fall to your death?”

Your mouth immediately shut. You leaned over the edge of the balcony, assessing the drop from here to that ridge, then from the ridge to the ground. You could do it. Eris had trained you when you first learned you could winnow, throwing you head first into a million different scenarios to test your reaction time. You could winnow after falling from a tree, surely you could do the same off a mountain.

“Okay,” you breathed. You started to climb over the edge of the railing, but warm, rough hands pulled you back. You immediately tensed at the contact, but Azriel’s hands didn’t leave you until you were stabilized on the ground again.

He stared at you with wide, incredulous eyes. “Wait for me to go down first.”

Your skin flushed. “Right,” you mumbled.

Azriel still looked bewildered when he launched into the sky, before immediately diving toward the base of the mountain. His wings were truly magnificent, as they shimmered in the afternoon sunlight while they helped him glide easily to the ground. Even though he looked significantly smaller down on the ground, you could tell he landed easily on his feet, taking a few steps to stabilize himself. You couldn’t understand how someone that emanated the promise of violence could move with so much grace.

He looked up at you from his position on the ground, and you took that as your cue. You breathed in deep, holding it for a second before letting it out slowly. Before you could psych yourself out, you flung yourself over the balcony that jutted out of the mountain, eyes locked on the rocky ledge as the wind wrapped violently around you. You could feel your body dropping with increasing speed, and you readied yourself to step into the universe’s fabric as the ledge neared. As soon as you passed the rocks and you felt the weight of the wards lift from your shoulders, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed your body to wrap into the unsettling darkness of the world.

One second you were free falling down the side of the mountain, and the next you were crashing into the hard wall of Azriel’s chest. He immediately circled his arms around you, but the force of your impact knocked both of you to the ground, with him taking the brunt of your fall. You groaned from the pain that shot through your wrist that you had used to brace yourself, but you went still as death once your brain processed the position you were in.

You immediately rolled off of Azriel, hissing when you put weight on your wrist. You shifted to lean on your other hand, then quickly pulled that one away when you felt the smooth, leathery membrane of his wing instead of the dirt of the ground. You sucked in a breath as you looked at him frantically. He still laid flat on his back, his wings splayed out in the dirt beneath him, with an arm covering his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you rushed out, fear creeping in for not only knocking him down but then touching his wing. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, please—”

“Y/N,” his dry voice cut you off, and your lips trembled, “stop talking.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, then winced. You cradled your injured wrist to your chest while you still stared at him wide-eyed. Panic was slowly squeezing at your lungs.

He slowly sat up, fluttering his wings to shake the dust from them. You froze at how close they were to you, and you waited for him to berate you, threaten you, to yell something at you for your stupidity. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, and then he offered you his hand.

You shakily placed your hand in his, eyes briefly snagging on the brutally scarred skin. He pulled you to your feet, stabilizing you with his other hand when you wobbled forward.

You watched him nervously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered again, hating the fear rushing through you, hating that your instincts made you freeze and plead for mercy instead of fighting back.

Azriel seemed to falter, his expression turning stricken as he looked you over. Something tight wrapped around the center of your chest, pulling at your heart, and it made your breaths turn shallow. You didn’t understand why he was drawing this out, why he was just standing there, watching you tremble in front of him.

He stepped closer, and you flinched. “I need you to take a breath for me,” he said quietly.

Your eyes snapped toward his. You pressed your palm against your chest, wincing again when the movement sent a stab of pain through your hand. He gently pulled your hand away from you, and you didn’t realize how much you were shaking until your hand rested in his. You couldn’t comprehend the gentleness in his touch, the calm in his voice as he spoke to you. You especially couldn’t understand the tightening rope in your chest that was nearly suffocating you in combination with your panic.

“Y/N.” Your vision refocused on Azriel, and you wondered how long he had been speaking to you when you recognized the panic in his eyes. His voice sounded warped, and the sun was too bright. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe.

The rope tightening in your chest was suddenly yanked, and it snapped you from your panicked haze. You sucked in a deep breath, recognizing the chill of the air on your damp cheeks. Azriel still had your injured wrist in his hand, but he didn’t touch you anywhere else, yet it felt like you could feel him in your very pores. You searched for the rope in your chest that somehow anchored you to reality after you had mistaken it for panic.

You felt the threads of it still tangled in your chest, and you let your instincts pull at them with whatever power resided in you. Your breath faltered again as you followed those threads to the male in front of you, who gasped when you tugged at them.

A new wave of panic washed over you, as you slowly realized what this meant. What your stupid accident had just revealed to the Spymaster of the Night Court. A shiver shook your body as you shook your head. “No.”

Azriel looked like he was in physical pain as he stared at you. You took an unsteady step back, Azriel following after you when you stumbled. “No,” you repeated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told you, voice so uncharacteristically soft. His eyes were pleading with you to listen, but you couldn’t escape the torrent of thoughts that whipped around you.

You couldn’t be someone’s mate. You couldn’t. You couldn’t live the shell of a life you’ve watched your mother endure for your entire life. You would rather go back to the Forest House than live a life shackled to a male who would expect you there for his beck and call.

You stood there completely frozen, trembling as you stood there helplessly in front of this powerful male. You could winnow away from him, but to where? Where could you go so that he or his shadows wouldn’t find you? The first time you had winnowed over a long distance was when you followed Eris two weeks ago, but you had the help of his spell to push you to your destination. You didn’t know how far you could go on your own.

“Y/N,” Azriel pleaded. “Please, just take a deep breath.” He ran a shaky hand through his dark hair. “I swear to the Mother, I am not going to hurt you. I promise.”

You just stared at him. He closed his eyes, his lips slightly wavering. You didn’t move, but neither did he. You weren’t sure when he had dropped your wrist.

“Azriel?” a soft, female voice asked from behind him.

You locked eyes on the pretty female. The High Lady. You had met her once, when you first arrived in her court. She seemed nice, she seemed strong and lively for a female mated to a High Lord. You thought she might help you.

“Feyre,” Azriel said, voice cracking. You looked between them wildly. “She needs to see a healer.”

Feyre studied the two of you, concern flooding her gaze. She moved toward Azriel, but he shook his head, and she stilled. She pressed her lips together, eyes widening slightly after a minute, before her gaze focused on you. Her eyes were soft as she slowly walked over to you, a warm, tattooed hand resting on your shoulder. “Let’s get that wrist taken care of, yeah?” she hummed. You had barely nodded before she wrapped the two of you in darkness, and you sagged against her gentle touch.

~ ~ ~

read pt. 2

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thegreyjoyed · 24 days ago

Text

ATE.

A New Place

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

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They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.

You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.

So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.

For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.

Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.

As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.

What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.

─

Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.

Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.

Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.

Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.

Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.

You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.

The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.

Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.

You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses

But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.

“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.

Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”

Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”

With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.

─

Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.

Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.

“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.

Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.

“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.

She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.

“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.

As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.

Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”

Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.

─

After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.

With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.

“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.

“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.

“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.

Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.

“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.

“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”

Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.

Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.

The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.

You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.

At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.

The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.

Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.

Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.

“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.

A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.

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a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @blackgirlmagicforever

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