thoughtdaughtersworld

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Pt 6

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: The aftermath of the night on the bridge.

Warning: emotional turmoil!!, angst

Authors Note: I'm trying to be more consistent guys I promise!! also I had severe writer's block

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

Azriel had been pacing the room, waiting for you to return. The rest sat in tense silence, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on their shoulders. There was no way any of them could sleep—not until you were back.

He hated this. Hated sitting here, waiting, when every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong.

Azriel didn’t care about space anymore. He needed to find you.

Just as he stood, his entire body seized. A sharp, searing pain slammed into his chest, stealing his breath. His knees buckled as a ragged gasp tore from his throat.

Then it hit him.

A surge of emotions crashed through the bond—overwhelming, suffocating. And then, pain. Pain so raw, so brutal, it had him collapsing to the floor.

The bond was severing.

“Az!” Cassian shouted, rushing to his side, Rhys close behind.

Azriel clutched his chest, his breathing ragged. “Something’s wrong,” he choked out. His vision blurred as realization cut through him like a blade to the heart.

The pain could only mean one thing.

You had severed the bond.

Even through your fights, your grief, you had never done this before. You had blocked him out, but the bond had always been intact, a lifeline—no matter how fragile. But now… now there was nothing. Just a hollow emptiness where you should have been.

Azriel stumbled towards the door, his entire body trembling. “I have to find her,” he rasped.

Rhys, Cassian, and Mor were already on his heels as he staggered out into the night. His breathing came fast and uneven, the agony of the broken bond coursing through him like fire in his veins. His shadows had already spread out, desperate to find you, and when they did, when they grew frantic near the bridge—his heart nearly stopped.

No. You wouldn’t.

But as he neared the bridge, his worst fear became reality.

“Y/N?” Azriel’s voice cracked as he spotted one of your shoes on the ledge.

Cassian shot into the sky, already heading toward the healer’s, needing no further instruction. Time was slipping through their fingers like sand, and every second mattered.

Azriel didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

He dove into the freezing water, the impact shocking, but nothing compared to the icy terror gripping his soul. He fought against the current, his wings useless in the water as he searched, his lungs burning.

Then, he saw you.

Sinking.

Drifting further from him.

A broken, strangled sound tore from his throat, lost to the water as panic surged through him. He forced his body to move faster, his every muscle screaming as he pushed himself forward. The distance between you felt endless, unbearable, but he pushed through it, he had to.

With one final, desperate push, he reached you, his arm locking around your waist, pulling you against him. You were too still, too cold. Azriel’s breath came in ragged bursts as he kicked upward with everything he had, the weight of both of you dragging him down, but he forced himself to keep going. 

His muscles screamed in protest as he swam toward the riverbank, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping you above water. Each stroke felt heavier, his body threatening to give out, but he didn’t stop. 

Finally, his feet found solid ground.

He stumbled onto the shore, collapsing to his knees as he pulled you onto the damp earth. His hands trembled as he brushed wet strands of hair from your face, his vision blurring.

.He laid you down on the damp grass, his hands already moving, pressing against your chest.

“Is she breathing?” Mor’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with fear.

Azriel didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. His hands pushed down again, steady, desperate. “Come back to me, Y/N.”

He tilted your head back, sealing his mouth over yours, breathing air into your lungs.

No response.

His hands trembled as he resumed compressions. “You can’t just leave me like this!” His voice cracked, raw and choked with emotion. He forced another breath into you, pressing against your heart over and over.

Tears blurred his vision, spilling down his face as he whispered, “There’s so much I didn’t get to tell you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice broke completely as a sob tore through him. “Please don’t do this.”

Mor was crying, hands over her mouth as she shook beside Rhys.

Rhys took a hesitant step forward, his own grief barely contained as he placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Az…” His voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.

Azriel shook him off, desperation clawing at his insides. “No.” His voice was hoarse, wrecked. “She wouldn’t leave me.”

He pressed down on your chest again. Again. Again. His hands shook, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Azriel’s hands were trembling as he pressed against your chest again, harder this time, his voice nothing more than a wrecked plea. “Come back to me.” His vision was blurred with tears, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. “Please.”

Another breath. Another push.

Then—

A sharp, ragged cough.

Your body convulsed slightly as water spilled from your lips, sputtering past parted lips in a wet, choking gasp.

Azriel froze, his breath catching mid-sob.

Then, again. A weak, fluttering beat beneath his palm.

“She’s breathing,” he choked out, his entire body going still as he leaned down, pressing his ear to your chest. It was faint, fragile, but it was there. “She’s breathing.”

Relief slammed into him so hard he nearly collapsed. Mor let out a broken sob, her hands clutching her chest, while Rhys exhaled sharply, already reaching out with his power to let the others at the house know.

“We need to get her to the house—now.”

Rhys held onto Azriel and Mor as they winnowed straight into the house.

“Is she okay?” Feyre’s voice was the first thing they heard, urgent and trembling. But the moment her eyes landed on you, limp and unmoving in Azriel’s arms, her hand flew over her mouth, her head shaking in silent devastation.

“Her heartbeat is faint,��� Azriel muttered, barely able to form the words. His grip on you tightened as he turned to Cassian. “Where’s Madja?” His voice was raw with desperation.

“In the family room,” Cassian said, but Azriel didn’t even wait for him to finish before he was moving, the others right on his heels.

The moment they entered, Madja was already prepared, her tools laid out, her sharp eyes assessing the situation in an instant. “Put her down,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azriel reluctantly laid you on the bed, his fingers lingering for just a second before Madja was by your side. Her hands moved quickly, assessing, diagnosing.

“She’s too cold,” Madja announced. “I need hot towels, now.”

The others rushed to follow her command, disappearing to fetch whatever was needed. But Azriel didn’t move. He couldn’t. He just stood there, staring at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest heaving with the weight of it all.

“This is my fault,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes never left your face, his heart pounding with every agonizing second that passed.

Madja paused, her sharp gaze flicking to him. “There is no room for self-pity right now, young man,” she said firmly. “She doesn’t need that. Not right now.”

Azriel swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He nodded, but the guilt still sat heavy in his chest, crushing, unrelenting.

The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as Madja worked swiftly, her hands moving with purpose and precision. She worked tirelessly to stabilize your body, bringing warmth back into your cold skin, forcing your body to respond. Slowly but surely, your heartbeat began to pick up, faint but steady. It was the only sign of hope they had.

Azriel watched, unwilling to look away, his heart still lodged in his throat, his every instinct screaming for you to wake up. He hadn’t known how badly he needed you to breathe, to open your eyes, until the moments had dragged on in painful silence.

“Her body is stabilizing,” Madja finally said, her voice hoarse from the strain of her work. “Her heartbeat is stronger now, her body is responding, but...” She trailed off, looking at Azriel, knowing exactly what that ‘but’ meant.

“But her mind isn’t,” Azriel finished for her, his voice low and raw. He stepped closer to you, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as if he could will you to wake up. His heart ached as he watched your face—still too pale, too distant. 

It seemed as though you were fighting with yourself,your body clinging to life, but your mind slipping away, not quite ready to fully come back. 

Madja stepped aside, letting Azriel kneel beside you, her voice soft but firm. “She’s not fully conscious yet. It’s a matter of her will now—whether she wants to wake up or not.”

Azriel’s eyes burned, his hand now gripping yours, hoping that in some small way, you could feel the strength he was pouring into you, the desperate plea without words. “Please, don't leave me” he whispered, his voice cracking. 

He swallowed, trying to steady himself, but his voice trembled with the weight of everything that had led up to this moment. “I should have been better. I should have protected you, but I... I was too late.”

Azriel leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath shaky. “Come back to me.”

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

Azriel had spent the entire week sitting across from you, his eyes never leaving your still form. It had been nearly two weeks, and you still hadn't woken up, and every moment without you felt like a cruel, unrelenting weight on his chest. He couldn't understand it, how the love of his life, the one person who made him feel whole, could be lying in front of him, barely breathing, and he could do nothing to pull you back from whatever darkness held you.

Every day, he would talk to you, his voice hoarse and ragged, begging you to wake up. He’d share everything, telling you about the days without you, about how much he missed you, how every inch of his soul ached for you. But no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he told you he loved you, nothing seemed to reach you.

Some days, when the grief became too much to bear, Azriel would break down, tears slipping silently down his face, his body trembling with the weight of his own helplessness. He hated seeing you like this. He hated that he couldn’t make it right, couldn’t undo whatever had led to this moment. It hurt him too much, knowing you were there and he was still here—alive, breathing, and yet so desperately empty without you.

He missed everything about you. Your laugh, the way it could light up the room, the way it could pull him out of his darkness, make him forget everything just for a moment. He missed your scent---how it wrapped around him, how it lingered even when you weren’t near. The warmth of your presence, the lightness you brought to him every day, the way your eyes would always soften when you looked at him.

Azriel couldn’t remember what it felt like to not need you. Every inch of him longed for you. The nights without you felt endless, like he was drowning in the silence of your absence. He couldn’t bear the idea that this might be his reality, that he might never hear your voice again or feel your touch. It was a reality he refused to accept, no matter how long it took.

But even in the dark hours, when despair almost swallowed him whole, Azriel clung to one hope: that you were still there, somewhere in the vast, empty space between your body and your mind. That one day, you would hear him and wake up, and the bond between you both would be whole again.

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

Madja had come by daily to check on you, and each visit seemed to bring more weight onto Azriel’s already-burdened soul. The days dragged on without any significant changes, nothing that would offer him even the smallest glimpse of hope. The uncertainty of your condition was a slow, agonizing torture for him. He was becoming a shell of the person he once was, living only for the moments when he could sit by your side and pray that you might wake up. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Now, he sat in a chair beside your bed, his hand never leaving yours, the only connection he had left to you. His body felt hollow, his heart echoing with the emptiness that had taken root in his chest.

The door opened, but Azriel didn’t acknowledge it. Feyre stepped in, she was farther along in her pregnancy now, her belly noticeably rounder, but the weight of her joy seemed muted against the overwhelming sorrow that consumed the room.

Feyre walked silently over to the chair beside Azriel, her gaze briefly flicking to his drawn face before landing on you. Her expression tightened in quiet anguish, and she settled into the chair across from Azriel, her eyes never leaving you.

They sat in silence. No words were spoken. There was nothing either of them could say that would change the reality they were facing. The pain was too deep, too consuming. 

Feyre had been coming here regularly, sitting beside Azriel without saying much, and that was how they both preferred it. The silence felt almost sacred because it was a silence born of shared understanding, of an unspoken bond forged through grief. Neither of them needed to explain themselves. They knew what the other was feeling.

Feyre’s hands gently folded in her lap, but her eyes were distant, unfocused as they lingered on you. Her thoughts were heavy. She was acutely aware of how everything had unfolded. How, in the chaos of her own life, she had failed to notice your pain, the weight you had carried and the battles you had fought alone. And now, seeing you like this, seeing Azriel like this, she couldn’t ignore the sharp pang of guilt that gnawed at her every time she thought of it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. But she had been blind to the extent of your suffering. She had been so caught up in her own struggles, her own joys, that she hadn’t been there for you the way she should have been. She couldn’t even tell Azriel that she was sorry. She wasn’t sure if words would be enough anyway.

The quiet between them was broken only by the soft sounds of your breath, still faint, still fragile.

Feyre reached out, her hand resting gently on Azriel’s, offering silent comfort. The gesture spoke volumes in the stillness of the room. She didn’t need to say anything. Neither of them did. 

After a long pause, Feyre finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, fragile and breaking. “I should have been there for you… for her.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, heavy with the regret that had been eating away at her for days now. “She was so strong,” Feyre whispered, tears glistening in her eyes as they slid down her cheeks. “But I didn’t see how much she was carrying. I didn’t see how hard it was for her to keep going.””

Azriel’s eyes flickered to her for a brief moment, the words that had been sitting on his tongue falling away. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. He understood her pain, he knew the guilt she carried but he was too deep in his own. There were no words to offer that would ease it, no comfort he could give. All he could do was remain silent, his hand still firmly wrapped around yours.

Just as he was about to speak, he felt it—a soft twitch in your hand.

His breath caught, his body going still as he stared at your fingers, still wrapped loosely around his. He felt the smallest flicker of hope in his chest, a wave of disbelief and longing all at once. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze, his focus entirely on you. Was it real?

He held his breath, watching intently as your hand twitched again, and then—

Your eyes fluttered open, faintly at first, barely more than a whisper of movement.

"Az..." Your voice was so soft, so fragile, like a memory carried on the wind.

Azriel’s heart slammed into his chest. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His entire body went rigid as the shock of your words and the sight of your eyes flickering open overwhelmed him. His pulse roared in his ears, the rest of the world vanishing in the wake of your awakening.

You—you were awake.

“Feyre,” Azriel breathed, his voice raw and filled with urgency. His grip on your hand tightened, a rush of adrenaline flooding his veins. “Get Madja. Now.”

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

You weren’t supposed to be here. No..there was no way you were still alive after what had happened.

Your surroundings were bathed in an endless, ethereal white glow, soft and warm, yet eerily unfamiliar. The last thing you remembered was the crushing weight of darkness pulling you under, the world slipping from your grasp as Azriel’s voice called your name.

And yet… you woke up here.

The overwhelming serenity of the place settled into your bones, a deep, unnatural calm that made you uneasy. It felt too peaceful. Too final.

"Hello?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you took in the figures moving around you, people who seemed content, at ease. They smiled and laughed, their presence light, almost weightless. But something was wrong. You called out again, louder this time, but it was as if they didn’t hear you.

A shiver crawled down your spine.

“Y/n.”

The voice was soft, melodic, and when you turned toward it, your breath caught.

A woman stood before you—the most stunning woman you had ever seen. Her beauty was almost unnatural, otherworldly, as if she had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Everything about her, from the way she held herself to the effortless grace in her movements made you feel small, insignificant. Wary.

She approached, her golden eyes warm but unreadable.

"Where am I?" you asked, your voice barely steady as you glanced around, searching for answers, for anything familiar.

The woman smiled, and something about the way she did made your stomach twist. It was kind, but there was an understanding in her expression that unsettled you. Like she knew what you were feeling before you did.

"You are in the Afterworld, my dear."

No, that couldn’t be right. If this was the afterworld… if you were here…

Your breath hitched, panic tightening in your chest. That means Azriel…

Your mind raced, piecing together what little memory you had left before everything went dark. Azriel had been calling for you. He had been there. You had tried to reach him, to respond, but the darkness had swallowed you whole before you could.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, stepping back instinctively. “No, I have to get back.” Your voice was more frantic now, desperation creeping into every syllable. “I promised him, Azriel, he-he’s waiting for me. I have to go back.”

The woman tilted her head slightly, watching you with something like understanding. She didn’t argue. She didn’t tell you it was impossible. She simply extended her hand toward you.

“Y/n,” she said softly, beckoning you forward. “There’s something I need to show you.”

You hesitated, wariness prickling at the edges of your mind. Who was she? Could you trust her?

But something about her presence was… steadying.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out and took her hand.

The world around you shifted in an instant. One moment, you were surrounded by an endless expanse of white; the next, you were standing in the middle of a vast, sun-dappled garden.

Lush greenery stretched in every direction, filled with towering trees and vibrant flowers in full bloom. The air smelled of fresh earth and something sweet, something warm and familiar.

Laughter rang through the space, high-pitched, bright, innocent.

You turned, your breath catching as you took in the sight before you.

Children.

Dozens of them, running through the fields, their giggles and delighted shrieks echoing through the air. Some chased each other in games of tag, others sat in circles, weaving flower crowns with nimble fingers. There were children of all ages, of all features and sizes, their faces alight with unfiltered joy.

Your brows furrowed as confusion settled over you.

“Why are we here?” you asked, glancing at the woman beside you.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she led you forward, past the children playing, past the ones sitting beneath the trees, until your steps slowed—until your gaze landed on him.

A young boy stood apart from the others, his small fingers skimming over the petals of a pale blue flower. His dark, tousled hair shifted as he moved, the familiar inky shade catching the sunlight.

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, almost as if he felt your presence, the boy turned.

And you nearly collapsed at the sight of those eyes.

Hazel.

Azriel’s eyes.

Your breath shuddered, the realization slamming into you with the force of a wave. 

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

The boy blinked up at you, his head tilting ever so slightly in quiet curiosity. His fingers clutched the flower he had been holding, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He was just watching you.

The woman at your side finally spoke, her voice laced with something deep, something knowing.

“He has been waiting for you.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

You didn’t need to ask. Didn’t need her to clarify.

You already knew.

This was your son.

Tears burned your eyes, your body trembling as you took an unsteady step forward.

The boy didn’t move. He just watched you, those hazel eyes filled with something unreadable, yet achingly innocent.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you slowly knelt before him, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like an unbearable tide. Seeing him now, seeing what could have been, what should have been, shattered something deep inside you.

He was everything you had never gotten the chance to hold. The life that had been stolen before it could even begin. And yet, here he stood. Whole. Real. Alive in a way you never thought possible.

A sob tore from your throat as you reached out, your hands shaking. The moment your fingers brushed against his small shoulders, something inside you shattered. Without hesitation, you pulled him into your arms, clutching him as if he might disappear.

The boy didn’t resist.

He melted into you, his tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck, as though he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. As though he had missed you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice broken, shaking. Tears streamed down your face, soaking into his soft curls as you held him tighter. “I’m so, so sorry.”

For not knowing him.

For not protecting him.

For never getting the chance to love him the way you should have.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, locked in an embrace that transcended time, grief, and fate itself. 

You swallowed hard, blinking through your tears as you slowly pulled back just enough to look at him. “What’s your name?” you whispered, brushing his dark curls away from his face.

The boy tilted his head slightly, as if considering his answer. “I don’t have one,” he finally said.

Your breath hitched. No name. No identity. Because he had never been given the chance.

You bit your lip, struggling to keep yourself together. “Can I—” Your voice wavered. “Can I give you one?”

His eyes lit up with something you couldn’t quite name, something soft and hopeful. He nodded.

You swallowed, thinking, but the answer came to you as naturally as breathing. A name that carried meaning. A name that felt right. A name you and Azriel had once spoken about, dreamed about, if you were ever blessed with a son.

“Caelan,” you whispered.

The boy—Caelan—smiled. A small, soft thing that made your heart clench.

You let out a trembling breath, running your hand gently over his curls. “Caelan,” you repeated, committing it to memory, to your soul.

The woman beside you hummed approvingly. “A beautiful name.”

You looked back at her then, your mind still spinning, still struggling to comprehend what was happening. “Why is he here?” you asked, your voice raw. “Why—why am I seeing him?”

The woman’s expression was kind, yet unreadable. “Because you needed to,” she said simply. “Because he needed to.”

Your throat tightened. You turned back to Caelan, your fingers ghosting over his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “I—” Your voice caught. “I should have—”

Caelan shook his head before you could finish, his small hands reaching up to hold yours. “Don’t cry, Mama.”

A broken sound caught in your throat at the name—Mama. He had called you Mama.

Your hands trembled as you cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, breathing him in. “I didn’t get to meet you,” you choked out, voice thick with sorrow. “I didn’t get to hold you.”

Caelan’s little brows furrowed as he reached for your hands, squeezing them. “But I knew you,” he whispered, tilting his head as he studied you. “I’ve always known you.”

Your breath hitched, your entire world tilting at his words.

He reached out then, pressing his small palm over your heart. “I was here,” he said simply. “I was always here.”

A sob broke from your lips as you pulled him back into your arms, holding him tightly, desperately. You had always felt the absence of something, an emptiness you had never been able to explain. And now, hearing those words from him, it all made sense.

You had never been alone in your grief.

You had carried him with you, always.

The stunning woman who had brought you here stood silently nearby, watching the exchange with something like sorrow and understanding in her gaze.

After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice gentle. “It is rare for souls to meet like this,” she said. “But your bond… it is strong. Stronger than most.”

You held Caelan close, your mind whirling with emotions too big to contain. “Is he… is he happy here?” Your voice wavered. “Has he been alone?”

The woman smiled softly, shaking her head. “No, my dear. He has never been alone. And yes, he is happy.” She looked down at Caelan with a fondness that made your heart ache. “But he has always watched over you. And his father.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Azriel.

The thought of him, of his pain, his grief, nearly brought you to your knees.

Caelan seemed to sense your shift in emotions. He pulled back slightly, his small hands finding yours again. “You have to go back,” he said, his voice serious in a way that no child’s voice should be.

Panic flared in your chest as you shook your head. “No, I can’t leave you. Not again.”

Caelan squeezed your hands, his golden eyes filled with something impossibly wise. “But I was never really gone,” he whispered.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you looked at him, at this beautiful, impossible boy who had been taken from you too soon.

“Will I ever see you again?” you asked, voice barely holding together.

Caelan lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You will,” he said softly. “But not right now.”

And then, before you could say anything else, before you could hold onto him for just a little longer—

The world around you began to fade.

“No, wait—” You reached for him, desperation clawing at you.

Caelan didn’t look afraid. He didn’t cry. He just smiled at you, that soft, knowing smile.

The last thing you heard was the sound of his voice, ringing in your heart like a promise.

“I love you, Mama.”

You watched as he slowly faded away, his form dissolving into the distance, leaving you with nothing but the emptiness of his absence. You were left in a place you couldn't name, alone with the woman who had brought you here.

“Who are you?” You finally asked, the question hanging heavy in the stillness of the space. Your time here felt as if it was running out, slipping through your fingers like sand.

The woman smiled, and then something incredible happened. She began to glow, her form radiating a brilliant, unearthly light. She doubled in size, her presence growing even more powerful, and if you had thought she was beautiful before, now she was indescribable—an ethereal being that seemed to transcend every word you knew.

The very air around her hummed with an ancient energy, one that made your heart race and your soul tremble in recognition.

“You called out to me, the night on the bridge,” the woman said, her voice soft yet filled with a weight that made the ground beneath your feet feel like it was trembling.

By the Cauldron…

You pieced it together in an instant, the truth crashing down on you like a wave. Your breath caught in your throat as the realization settled within you, heavy and undeniable.

You were standing before the Mother herself.

Her presence was overwhelming. Sacred. You had always heard the stories, the legends. The Mother, the source of all creation, the one who shaped life and death. But standing before her, feeling the weight of her power, her eternal wisdom—it was impossible to comprehend.

“I… I didn’t call for you,” you whispered, still stunned, your mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what was happening.

The Mother’s smile deepened, a warmth in her gaze. “You did, my child. In the depths of your grief, you called out for guidance, for strength. You may not have realized it then, but your heart reached for me.”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but only one question emerged from your lips. “What happens now?”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, her presence filling the space around you with a peaceful, all-encompassing energy. “What happens now is entirely up to you,” she said gently. “You have the power to choose your path. To heal, to return, or to remain here.”

Tears stung your eyes as you thought of Azriel, of everything you had left behind. But you also thought of Caelan, the boy you had never been able to hold, the child who had shown you so much love in such a short time.

The Mother’s voice echoed in your mind, “No matter what you decide, you are never truly alone.”

You swallowed, your heart torn between the world you had known and the one that now lay before you. "I want to be with Azriel," you said quietly. 

The Mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "Then return to him, child. Your bond has been restored. It is strong, and it will guide you both through the pain. But remember, your strength is in your love for him, for Caelan, and for yourself."

The light around her began to fade, and she took a step back, her form blurring as if made of light itself. “Go now,” she whispered softly, “and know that I am with you always.”

With one final look at the Mother, you felt yourself being pulled back, her warmth lingering in your soul as the world around you blurred. The serene light, the comforting presence, all began to fade, and with it, you felt yourself slipping, fading from the afterworld, back into the realm you had left behind.

A sharp breath filled your lungs as you were suddenly aware of your body again—the weight of it, the ache, the pulse of life flowing through you. You felt everything, your chest rising and falling, your fingers twitching at your sides. The world around you was blurry, disorienting, but you could feel the faintest hint of warmth, the unmistakable touch of someone’s hand holding yours.

Your eyes flutter open, the blinding light forcing you to blink as the world slowly comes into focus. The room was unfamiliar, hazy except for him.

Azriel.

His face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief, and in that moment, all you could do was breathe, your heart thundering in your chest as you tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

"Az," you whisper, his name fragile on your lips, as if testing the feel of it, as if speaking it for the very first time.

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, and the shock in his eyes melted into a raw, overwhelming relief. He froze, unable to speak at first, and then the words spilled from him in a rushed, desperate whisper. “Feyre,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “Get Madja. Now.”

And in that instant, you knew—without question, without doubt.

You were home

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Masterlist

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: There's an attack on Velaris and you and Azriel are struggling to reconnect after sudden events that leave the both of you broken beyond repair.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Part 5

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Y/n is confronted by her family, forcing her to face the pain she has been drowning in.

Warning: angst, emotional turmoil!!!

Authors note: This was a really hard and emotional chapter for me to write but I hope you all like it, and I promise things are going to start looking better a bit :) Also I should be uploading more since spring break starts soon. Yay!!

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

Your grip tightened on the strap of your bag as you stood frozen in the doorway.

No one spoke at first. They just watched you, their gazes heavy with concern, pity, frustration. Your stomach twisted. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want their worried eyes and hushed tones, didn’t want them all looking at you like you were something fragile, something broken.

Rhysand was the first to break the silence. “Sit down.” His voice was gentle, but it was still a command.

You scoffed, shifting your weight. “I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

“Please Y/n” Feyre shifted in her seat, her hands folded over her growing bump. She looked like she wanted to reach for you, to soften this somehow. 

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you took a slow breath, steadying yourself.

“Seriously?” you muttered, scanning their faces—Feyre, Cassian, Elain, Mor , Rhys, Amren, even Nesta. They all looked at you like you were some animal that was out of control.

It made your skin crawl.

“We’re worried about you,” Mor said gently. “You’ve been pulling away from us, shutting us out.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “So what? You all decided to corner me about it?”

Cassian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not trying to gang up on you.”

You glanced at Nesta, the only one who was watching you with understanding. She knew how it felt, feeling cornered by people you considered family.

Your throat tightened, and the words came out harsh. “I don’t need this.” You turned on your heel, the desire to escape the room overwhelming. You just wanted to forget about tonight, to hide away in the quiet and push everything down.

But then Rhys spoke, his voice low and steady. “We know about the drinking.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a slap. Your back stiffened, your heart pounding. Still facing away, you clenched your jaw, unwilling to show how much his words cut.

“We’re sorry for not noticing it sooner,” Rhys added, guilt lacing his tone.

You turned slowly, and your eyes locked onto Azriel’s. The hurt in your chest flared, deep and raw. “You told them?” The words came out before you could stop them, dripping with the sting of betrayal.

Azriel’s gaze flickered with regret, but he didn’t answer right away, leaving the weight of the question hanging between you.

His silence spoke louder than anything he could have said. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t look away. It was like he was waiting for you to understand, even though you weren’t sure if you could.

“I had to,” Azriel finally murmured, his voice rough, almost apologetic. “I couldn’t watch you spiral anymore.”

The hurt in your chest deepened, and you felt something sharp tighten around your heart. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why he did it—it was the fact that it felt like another invasion, another betrayal. It felt like your brokenness was something to be shared without your permission.

"You had to?" you echoed, your voice trembling slightly. "So what now, Azriel? You get to decide when enough is enough? You get to decide what’s best for me?" You laughed, but it was bitter. "You really thought telling them about my drinking was the answer?"

“Y/n, that’s—" Azriel started, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“No,” you cut him off, your voice growing steadier, though the pain in your chest still made it hard to breathe. “You don’t get to speak for me. I didn’t ask for your help, Azriel. I didn’t ask for anyone’s help." The words tumbled out faster now, the frustration and anger finally bubbling to the surface. 

"You all just expect me to snap out of grieving my child? Just like that?" You met their eyes, your expression raw and vulnerable, the pain evident in the depths of your gaze. "I held his lifeless body in my arms, and my whole world shattered right then and there."

Another broken laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Have any of you ever thought that maybe I want to feel this? That maybe this pain is something I need to carry, for now, at least? I don’t need your opinions on how to heal." Your voice cracked, but you stood your ground, unflinching. "None of you were there. You weren’t there to soothe me after nightmares, or to hold me when I cried... I was."

The words hung heavy in the air, the rawness of your vulnerability evident in every syllable. You hadn’t said this much, hadn’t let anyone in, not since that day. It was like a dam had broken, but you couldn’t take it back now. The pain, the anger, the fear—everything poured out in one rushed confession.

Amren's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, her posture stiff. "Maybe you're holding onto this grief because it's easier than facing the reality that you've lost control," she said, her voice sharp, almost detached. "Sometimes, wallowing in pain can feel like the only thing left, but that's not healing. That's just letting the darkness win."

The words cut through the room, like a blade, leaving an almost physical tension in the air

"I don’t care,” you snapped, already walking toward them, but then you saw Rhys step in front of Feyre, as if he were shielding her. You stopped dead in your tracks, disbelief crashing over you. Did he really think you would hurt her? The thought stung more than you cared to admit, and suddenly, all your anger felt like it had a target.

You scoffed, shaking your head, the bitterness bleeding into your words. “You know what I think? I think you’ve all been looking for an excuse to get me out. To push me aside.”

Nothing you were saying made sense, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t think straight—your emotions were a storm that didn’t give you the luxury of clarity. “Feyre’s pregnant, right? So you don’t want me around, sulking and bringing down the mood. Is that it?” Your teeth ground together so hard you thought they might shatter.

Feyre’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. You saw the tears welling in her gaze before she could blink them away. Even Rhys, usually so composed, faltered, his jaw tightening.

You exhaled sharply, as if trying to expel the weight crushing your chest. “I’ll be out of your hair then. I’ll start staying with Clotho.” The words spilled out before you even thought them through. You hadn’t asked Clotho yet, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t stay here.

“Like hell you are,” Azriel’s voice cut through the air, tight with disbelief and something dangerously close to desperation. His wings flared slightly as he stepped toward you, but Feyre caught his arm, shaking her head. Silently pleading with him not to make this worse.

You looked at Azriel, your voice seething with pain “You know,” you started, voice eerily calm, “if someone had told me my mate would go behind my back—would collaborate with others to talk about me like some problem to be solved—I would’ve laughed.” 

You let the words sink in, let them settle like poison in the air. “I thought you of all people would understand. But you failed me.”

Azriel looked like you had struck him. But it wasn’t enough. Not for the pain clawing at your ribs, the agony of betrayal that suffocated you.

So you twisted the knife.

“Just like you did back then.” Your voice was cold, unforgiving. “And it cost us our child.”

The silence between you was suffocating, and you could feel your heart breaking all over again as you whispered, "You should have just let me die that day on the windowsill. All your problems would have disappeared."

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, his face paling, his shadows recoiling from him like they, too, felt the weight of your words.

You could barely stand to look at their faces anymore—the faces of the people who should have been your refuge, but now felt like the ones causing you the most pain. 

Without another word, without looking back, you turned on your heel and stormed out the door, every fiber of your being screamed to run.

And this time, no one stopped you.

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

Azriel watched you storm out, his heart hammering in his chest, a weight settling over him that he couldn’t shake. He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze still locked on the door you had just slammed shut behind you. The rawness in your voice, the betrayal in your words—it felt like a punch to his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He had failed you. 

“Let her go,” Feyre’s voice was soft, yet firm, as she held him back, her hand gripping his arm tightly.

Azriel shook his head, frustration boiling over. “I can’t just let her leave like this, Feyre. I can’t—”

“I know,” Feyre said quietly, her voice full of understanding, but there was a finality to it. “But she needs space. She needs to be alone right now. If you go after her, you’ll only make it worse.”

Azriel stood still, his fists clenched, eyes burning with unspent anger and regret. His mind raced, replaying every word you’d said, the sharpness of them cutting deeper with each passing second. Just like you did back then, which cost us our child.

The words echoed in his head, drowning out everything else. He had never thought he would hear those words from you, never thought that he–would cause you to feel that way. And yet here he was, paralyzed by the enormity of it. He had destroyed the one thing that mattered most. 

He finally let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. But he couldn’t help the tears threatening to sting his eyes. Not in front of them. He wouldn’t let them see him break.

Rhys watched him carefully, his expression softened with concern, but Azriel couldn’t look at him. The weight of his own failure was too much to bear.

It was Nesta who, though silent, seemed to speak volumes. Her face was set in a grim line, her eyes flicking briefly between him and the door where you had just left. She didn’t say a word, but Azriel could feel the unspoken truth in her gaze. She was disappointed—disappointed in them, in the way they had handled the situation. The way they had cornered you, made you feel like there was no escape, no place for your grief.

Nesta had been there. She had lived through this exact kind of heartache, through this kind of pain. She didn’t need to say it out loud for Azriel to understand that she knew exactly what you were going through—and she knew what you needed. Space. Time. Patience. The one thing they hadn’t given you.

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, his chest tight as the realization hit him harder than any blow. His thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos, drowning in guilt, in shame. He had been so focused on fixing things, on helping you, that he forgot to actually see you, forgot to let you heal in your own time. He had thought he was doing the right thing by stepping in, but all he had done was push you further away.

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

The weight of everything felt unbearable. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that place—trapped by your own mind, suffocating under the pressure on your chest. It was hard to breathe, and every inhale felt like a struggle. Self-loathing consumed you, gnawing at you relentlessly. 

You thought of Azriel, his face flashing in your mind when you had hurled those cruel words at him. Words you didn’t mean, but in the chaos of your own hurt, you had lashed out, throwing his one insecurity back at him, hoping it would hurt him as much as you were hurting. And it did. You could see it in his eyes, the weight of regret that still lingered from that day.

You couldn’t believe you’d done that. You had always known how deeply Azriel cared, and yet you had used his vulnerability as a weapon. A part of you knew the damage was done, and it made the guilt gnaw even harder at your insides.

You run your hand through your hair, absentmindedly walking with no destination, your legs carrying you without thinking. When you finally blinked and looked up, you found yourself standing outside of Rita’s. You hadn’t been here in a while, but the urge to drown your pain in alcohol was overpowering now, and before you could reconsider, you stepped inside. The heavy air of sweat and booze hit your senses, but you pushed it aside.

You couldn’t stop yourself. You started drinking quickly, each glass blurring your thoughts even more. You weren’t a good mate. You weren’t a good friend. And deep down, you thought you wouldn’t have been a good mother either. That thought, that self-condemnation, made you indulge more. The person you were—the one who had been strong, who had cared for others—felt like a distant memory. She would have slapped some sense into you, but she was gone. You were left in the aftermath of your own choices, a hollow version of yourself.

Stumbling out of the bar, the cool night air hit you, but it couldn’t clear the fog in your mind. You had no plan, no direction, but your feet carried you anyway. Without realizing it, you found yourself standing at the Sidra Bridge, as you often did when your mind needed escape. The river’s gentle rush below called to you in a way you couldn’t ignore.

The world around you felt distant, fuzzy. You sat at the ledge, the steady flow of the river like a soothing lullaby. And for a brief moment, the thought of surrendering to its cold embrace seemed comforting, like an end to the pain that had suffocated you for so long.

"What did I do to deserve this?" you yelled into the night, the words torn from your chest. "Why me? Why was my baby taken from me?" The words came out broken, raw, and desperate, the weight of your grief too much to bear. You hadn’t allowed yourself to break like this in a long time, but now you could feel it unraveling.

"I can’t take this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible, choked by the sobs that shook your body. You clutched your chest, trying to quell the aching void inside, but nothing could soothe it. The night air seemed to mock you, wrapping around you with its icy touch, offering no comfort.

You felt so stupid, so lost. You tried to turn around, intending to step away from the ledge, but your body was uncooperative. You stumbled, losing your balance, and before you could catch yourself, you fell backward, plummeting toward the river below.

The world around you faded, the cold water enveloping you with each passing second. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes, and you screamed Azriel’s name, as if somehow, he might hear you. But deep down, you knew no one would come.

 You were too far gone, too lost in your own despair to fight against the water’s pull. The cold was unforgiving as it enveloped you more, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a strange sense of surrender. No one would save you, and part of you didn’t want to be saved. The pain, the guilt, the regret—they had all become too much to bear.

As your body sank deeper into the cold river, your thoughts turned to Azriel, the one person who had always been there for you. You imagined the devastation he would feel when he found out you were gone, and a pang of regret twists in your chest.

But then, amidst the chaos of your emotions, the image of your son flickered in your mind. The idea of finally being reunited with him, of holding him again, offered a bittersweet solace. The river, the cold, it whispered promises of peace, of a reunion that could ease the unbearable ache in your heart.

In your final moments, you opened the bond between you and Azriel, pouring all your feelings into it—comfort, love, regret for the way things had ended. You poured your heart into the bond, letting him feel the depth of your affection for him, your sorrow for what had been. And then, with what little strength remained, you severed the connection, cutting the ties between your souls.

You sent a final wish into the universe—one last hope for Azriel. A wish that he would find joy, love, and peace, a life free from the torment and sadness that had consumed both of you and one where he didn’t have a mate who was nothing more than an emotional wreck.

And then there was nothing.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Pt 4.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/n take a step closer to each other but is that enough

Warnings: angst, emotional turmoil!!

Authors note: Finally back!!! I've been dealing with major writers block and just trying to survive in school lol. Also this chapter is a bit short but the next one is going to be longer.

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

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Everyone went still, and then the murmur of congratulations began, but you were still frozen. They had all been smiling, but their eyes flickered nervously toward you, unsure of how to react, how to celebrate when they knew the state of your heart, when they knew you were not quite there with them.

You tried to smile, tried to be happy for her, and you whispered, “I’m happy for you, Fey,” but the words felt like they got stuck in your throat. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for her—of course, you were but something sharp and painful cut through you. You hated that you felt sad. You hated that the joy you wanted to share with her felt tainted by the emptiness inside you.

Feyre’s voice softened, and she started, “I wish-” but she didn’t finish.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice tight, almost broken. You stood up quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the table, between you and the growing ache in your chest. You reached out, pulling her into a hug. “You’ll make an excellent mother,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. Feyre hugged you back tightly, her arms warm and reassuring, but all you could feel was the distance between you and everything that used to be.

You pulled back from the hug, forcing a smile even though it felt like a mask slipping over your face. “Excuse me, I’ll be going to bed,” you said quietly, the words barely more than a whisper. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t sit at the table and pretend everything was okay when it felt like your walls were cracking under the pressure.

You turned quickly, walking toward your room, but as you passed through the hall, you heard the sound of their laughter, their congratulations, the excited murmurs of joy filling the air. And you stopped for a moment, your hand on the doorframe, your chest tight. You wanted to be happy for her. You wanted to celebrate with them. But why did it feel like everything inside of you was crumbling, like you were too far gone to share in that happiness? 

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

Azriel had seen how broken you were when Feyre announced her pregnancy. He had felt it through the bond you had forgotten to close off this evening. Every raw emotion crashed into him, the sharp sting of sorrow, the aching hollowness that you tried to bury beneath a forced smile. It settled inside him like a weight, pressing against his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

His eyes followed you as you walked away, his shadows shifting restlessly, aching to follow you, to wrap around you and shield you from this moment. But he stayed seated, forcing himself to believe that maybe—just maybe, you wanted space. That you needed to process this on your own.

But anger burned low and simmered beneath his skin. They knew. Rhys and Feyre knew how fragile you still were, how much you had lost, how much you still carried. And yet they had sprung this on you tonight, in front of everyone, as if it wouldn’t crack something inside you. Azriel was happy for them truly, he was, but did it have to be now?

"Excuse me," he said, standing abruptly.

Rhys reached out, stopping him before he could leave. “Az,” he murmured, regret lining his voice.

Feyre’s face was tight with guilt as she glanced toward the door you had disappeared through. "I didn’t think she was going to come down tonight," she admitted. "I had planned to announce it, but… I should have waited."

Azriel clenched his jaw, his wings tensing as he exhaled sharply. He wanted to be understanding, he knew Feyre hadn’t meant to hurt you, but that didn’t change the fact that she had. That Rhys had.

"You should have waited," he said, his voice low, controlled, but edged with something sharp. "She’s barely keeping herself together as it is."

Feyre’s expression crumbled, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I know," she whispered. "I just—I thought maybe it would bring her some happiness."

Azriel scoffed softly, shaking his head. "You thought wrong."

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Az—"

But Azriel was already turning away. "I’m checking on her," he said, leaving no room for argument.

Just before he stepped out of the room, he paused, glancing back at them. His gaze softened, sincerity threading through his words. "Congratulations, brother. Truly, I mean it." And then he walked out.

The hall was quiet, save for the distant murmurs of celebration behind him. But his focus was already elsewhere. His shadows stretched ahead, slipping under doors and down corridors, searching for you, drawn to your pain as much as he was.

And when he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before knocking softly. No answer

Azriel knocked again, harder this time, his patience fraying. Still no answer. A sinking feeling clawed at his chest, and before he could second-guess himself, he pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Panic shot through him like ice. His shadows darted ahead, swirling through the space, searching, desperate. The room was eerily still, untouched, but then—then, his eyes caught the faintest flicker of movement. A sliver of light from the slightly ajar bathroom door.

Azriel crossed the room in a heartbeat, the door creaking as he pushed it open.

His breath caught.

Glass shimmered across the tiled floor, jagged pieces reflecting the dim light. And there, in the too-cold water of the bathtub, you sat curled into yourself, your arms wrapped tight around your body.

His heart pounded against his ribs. The sight of you, so small, so utterly broken—knocked the breath from his lungs and almost brought him to his knees.

"Love," his voice cracked, raw with emotion as he moved closer, careful of the glass beneath his boots. You didn’t respond. You only stared blankly ahead, as if you weren’t even fully here, as if you had been dragged somewhere unreachable.

Azriel crouched beside the tub, his hands hovering above the water, unsure if you’d let him touch you. "You're freezing," he whispered, his voice thick with something dangerously close to desperation.

Still, you didn’t move.

Azriel doesn’t hesitate. He pulls off his boots, stepping into the tub without a second thought, the cold water soaking through his clothes as he settles across from you. He doesn’t care. Not about the chill, not about the discomfort—only about you.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches, thick with things unsaid, until his voice finally breaks through.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his hands finding your arms, rubbing slow, steady circles in a desperate attempt to warm you. His touch is gentle, grounding. “Please.”

You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to where the water ripples between you. “I didn’t—” Your voice falters, but you force yourself to continue. “I am happy for Feyre. If that’s why you’re here.” You lift your eyes to meet his, searching, hoping he understands. “I just… I just couldn't be in there.”

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head, trying to catch your gaze. “I’m here for you. And you never have to explain what you feel to me, not now, not ever.” His voice is firm, unwavering. “I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay.

Azriel watches you for a beat before exhaling through his nose, as if making a decision. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching for a towel. He wraps it around your trembling body, his movements careful, deliberate. The warmth seeps into your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth in his touch, the steady way he holds you as he helps you up.

He doesn’t say a word as he dries you off, dresses you in one of your softer nightgowns, then guides you to the bed. Only after cleaning up the shattered glass does he return, standing beside you, his eyes still searching, still worried.

He’s about to say something when you shake your head, cutting him off.

"I'll be fine, Az," you say, forcing a small, fragile smile. You don’t want him to stay. You don’t want him to see how bad your nights have become.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His gaze lingers on you, as if debating whether or not to push.

"Don't do that," Azriel says, his jaw clenching. "Don't push me away."

He wanted—needed—to be here with you. He knew the mental toll tonight had taken on you.

You stay quiet. "I just can't do this right now," you exhale, the lie slipping easily from your lips. "I just need to be by myself."

Azriel steps forward, kneeling in front of you. You try your hardest to look anywhere but at him, to escape the vulnerability in his eyes, because you know one look is all it would take for you to give in.

His fingers brush against your cheek, tilting your face towards him, his touch impossibly gentle..

"I'm scared." His voice wavers.

Your breath catches. "What?"

Azriel takes a shuddering breath, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

"I'm scared that if I walk out that door, something's going to happen." His voice is barely above a whisper now, raw with emotion. "And I—" He exhales shakily. "I just can't leave you."

You look into his eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the world is standing still. There’s so much pain in his gaze, so much fear—for you, for what might happen if he leaves. The vulnerability that’s always been hidden beneath his tough exterior is laid bare, and you realize that this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about him, too.

You feel the weight of everything pressing on your chest, the guilt, the sadness, the exhaustion and yet, there’s something else, something unexpected: relief. He’s here. He wants to be here.

You blink, swallowing the knot in your throat.

"Az... I..." The words feel so small, so insignificant in the face of what you both are going through. But you know you can’t push him away anymore.

The silence between you stretches, and then, before you can stop yourself, you reach out, pulling him closer. His breath hitches as he leans into you, the tension in his body melting the second your arms encircle him.

For a moment, he’s still, unsure. Then he lets out a long, quiet sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath for hours.

"Please," he whispers against your hair, his voice broken. "Just tonight. Let me be here."

And you do. You let go of the part of you that wanted to push him away, the part that convinced you you didn’t deserve this. You let him hold you, feel his warmth, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

Because, at the end of the day, you both needed this. You needed him, just as much as he needed you.

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

Azriel didn’t sleep the entire night. He held you through every shuddering breath, every restless toss and turn, as if letting go would mean losing you completely. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hold you, to remind himself that you were still here. That he could still do something.

Now, with the first light creeping through the curtains, he watches your brow furrow in sleep. Without thinking, he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, smoothing away the tension, just like you always did for him.

A small part of him wants to stay like this, wants to pretend that last night meant things were getting better. But he knows better.

So he moves carefully, slipping out of bed, intending to make you breakfast because deep down, he had a sickening feeling you hadn’t been eating.

But the moment he stands, something brushes against his leg.

Azriel stills, frowning as he kneels, reaching under the bed. His fingers close around something cold, and when he pulls it into the morning light, his stomach turns.

A bottle.

His pulse pounds in his ears as he glances back under the bed. More of them. Hidden away.

A sharp breath hisses through his teeth. He doesn’t even realize he’s gripping the bottle too tightly until his knuckles ache.

Behind him, you stir.

A groan leaves your lips as you wake, head throbbing, the remnants of nightmares clinging to you like a second skin. You blink blearily, still expecting to be alone, only to find Azriel sitting rigidly at the edge of the bed, his back turned to you, shoulders tense.

Something was wrong.

“Az?” Your voice is still rough with sleep, but there’s something else now, an undercurrent of dread curling through your ribs.

He doesn’t answer right away.

When he finally turns to face you, his jaw is clenched so tight it looked painful. He held your gaze for a long, unreadable moment before he spoke.

“I think you need to talk to Madja.”

Your stomach drops.

“What?” you force out,

Azriel exhales sharply, the sound barely controlled. “I’m worried about you.”

You shake your head immediately. “Az, I’m fine.”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything, it hardens. “You think drinking yourself to oblivion every night is fine?”

The room tilts slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw the bottles,” he says quietly, but there’s an edge to his voice now, something restrained, like a thread pulled too tight. “Under your bed.”

Your breath stutters, and something like shame claws at your throat. But you shove it down, sitting up straighter. “It’s not—It’s not like that.”

Azriel looks at you, his hazel eyes dark and unwavering. “Then what is it like?”

You hate that he’s seeing this. Hate that he’s looking at you like that-like he’s trying to put together the pieces of something broken.

“I don’t need to talk to Madja,” you say, your voice sharper now, defensive. “I’ve been doing fine.”

“No,” Azriel says, shaking his head. “You haven’t.”

 “You don’t get to decide that.” You grit your teeth

“I’m not deciding anything,” he says, the frustration bleeding into his voice. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you drowning.”

Your nails dig into your palms. “I don’t need your help.”

Azriel exhales, slow and measured, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “That’s bullshit.”

You glare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Why are you even here, Az? What, you want to play hero? Fix me?”

His jaw tightens. “I want you to stop pretending you’re okay when you’re not.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“No,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You didn’t.” He looks at you, really looks at you, and something in his expression flickers, something raw, something almost pleading. “But I can’t just sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Something in your chest twists violently.

“Then don’t,” you say, your voice cold. “I’ve been fine without you for a while now.”

The words are out before you can stop them, sharp and cold and final.

Azriel stills. His fingers flex at his sides, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long moment. And then, finally, he exhales through his nose and pushes to his feet.

A muscle jumps in his jaw as he looks down at you, his face unreadable. “Fine.” It shouldn’t sting, but it does.

He steps back, shadows curling at his heels as he heads for the door. But just before he reaches it, he pauses. Doesn’t look back.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, voice quiet but firm. “About always being here for you. We made a vow to each other and I intend on keeping it”

And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. And you’re left alone.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

You stare at the door, heart still pounding, fingers curled into the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you.

He’s gone.

You should feel relieved. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To keep him at a distance, to stop him from seeing the parts of you that were fraying at the edges. To protect him from the mess you’ve become.

But all you feel is hollow.

Your eyes flicker to the bottle still clutched in your hand. You don’t even remember grabbing it, but there it is—cool and solid against your palm, the last thing tethering you to reality.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply, willing the tremor in your hands to stop.

Azriel saw. He knew. And now, there was no taking it back. You should’ve known better than to think you could hide this from him.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at the wall, your mind racing in circles. Minutes? Hours? The light outside shifts, and eventually, you drag yourself out of bed, feeling like you’re moving through water.

You pace the room once. Twice. Your skin felt too tight, your chest too full.

You needed air.

Your feet carry you towards the balcony before you can think twice about it, and before you know it, you’re outside, the cool morning air biting at your skin. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill, but it does nothing for the ache inside your ribs.

Azriel’s scent lingers in your room. The ghost of him still clings to the space he left behind.

And gods, you wanted to chase after him.

You wanted to run to him, tell him you didn’t mean it, that you didn't want him to go.

But you don’t.

Instead, you sink down onto the floor, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as the weight of everything crashes over you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but eventually, exhaustion wins.

And when you finally drag yourself back inside, the only thing left is the gnawing, empty quiet.

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

Azriel didn’t know his heart could break more than it already had, until today.

Your words echoed in his mind, each one a confirmation of how much he had failed you. The weight of it was unbearable, suffocating. By the time he made it back to his room, his stomach twisted violently, and the first thing he did was stumble into the bathroom and throw up.

The realization hit him like a blade to the gut, you had drowned your sorrows in bottles instead of him. And the bitterness that followed was something he couldn’t shake.

Azriel gripped the edges of the sink, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Shadows curled around his shoulders, restless, feeding off the storm raging inside him.

You had chosen the bottle over him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. It shouldn’t matter..it wasn’t about him. This was about you, about the pain you carried, the weight you refused to share. And yet, the thought of you suffering alone, of you pushing him away when all he wanted was to help, made something inside him splinter.

He had known you were hurting, but seeing it up close, seeing the bottles stashed beneath your bed, the way you flinched at his concern made it real in a way he wasn’t prepared for. And it killed him.

His hands trembled as he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, hoping it would wash away the sick feeling in his gut. But it didn’t. Nothing would.

Because no matter how much he wanted to be the one to help you, you didn’t want his help.

And that hurt more than anything.

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

You weren't speaking to anyone in the house. The silence had become suffocating, a constant companion that pressed against you, reminding you of everything you couldn’t escape. Most days, you found yourself hiding away with Clotho, retreating to the library as a sanctuary from the chaos swirling inside your mind.

Feyre’s bump was unmistakable now, a joyful sign of life that only amplified the ache you carried. She’d tried to reach out, tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be around her. You couldn’t bear to cast a shadow over her happiness, and if you did, you knew how it would end: with you comforting her, reassuring her that none of this was her fault. That she had nothing to feel guilty for.

Cassian had made attempts, trying to coax even the faintest smile from you with his jokes. But Nesta saw it, the hollow look in your eyes, the way your lips never quite formed a smile. No matter how hard you tried, the façade wouldn’t stick. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

And Azriel… you and him were locked in your usual dance of silence, each passing day feeling heavier than the last. The weight of what had been left unsaid between you was unbearable, and the thought of trying to fix it seemed almost impossible.

You hadn’t touched a drink since that last argument, your longest streak in a while. You couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it to him, not after how things had ended. Not when you weren’t even sure if anything could ever be the same again.

They had all noticed how much worse you were getting. Yet, no one knew how to fix it

The house was eerily quiet when you returned from another long day with Clotho. Too quiet.

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you stepped inside.

Then you saw them...sitting in the living room, waiting for you. Concern was written all over their faces. Your eyes landed on Azriel, standing in the far corner, his jaw clenched tight, shadows curling at his feet.

And the absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you. An intervention. They were staging a damn intervention.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Hey guys, I’m so sorry for part 4 coming late. I’m struggling through a writers block and I’m also drowning in school work but I’ll try my best to finish it this week. Thank you for reading and loving it🫶🏽

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Pt 3.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Y/n and Azriel's relationship is filled with tension and unspoken feelings, leaving both of them struggling to confront the distance growing between them.

TW!!: emotional turmoil, angst, drinking!!

Sorry that this took long, school has been beating my a**.

Authors Note: It's gonna go downhill from here and she's going to be really struggling like emotionally and physically before she starts healing. I hope you guys enjoy!!

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

Mor and Feyre had spent the past few days gently coaxing you out of bed, urging you to get some fresh air, to take even the smallest step forward. Today, for the first time, you gave in. Not for them, but because you could admit, if only to yourself, that the walls of your room had begun to close in on you, making you feel suffocated.

The crisp air greets you as you step into the garden, filling your lungs with something that almost feels like relief. Almost. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, but the warmth barely touches you.

Mor and Feyre walk beside you, their voices light and hopeful as they try to pull you into conversation.They talk about everything and nothing, weaving words in the air between you, trying to anchor you back to the present. But it was like listening through water.. muffled and  distant. You nod at the right moments, but you don’t really hear them. Your mind drifts, weightless and detached.

“Have either of you seen Azriel?”

The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you’d spoken them, your voice breaking the rhythm of their conversation. It was the first thing you’d said to them all day, and it caught them off guard. Their exchange of glances was subtle, but not subtle enough.

Feyre was the first to respond. “He’s attending to some court matters right now,” she said carefully, her tone soft but uncertain. “But he’ll be back soon.”

The hesitation in her voice wasn’t lost on you. The words hung in the air, heavy and unsatisfying. They didn’t sound like the truth. Not entirely. And the bitterness it left in your mouth was indescribable.

Your chest tightened, frustration mingling with the ache already there. “I’ll be going back to my room,” you said abruptly, your voice strained. The pity in their glances, the gentle coddling,it was unbearable. Every attempt they made to help only seemed to remind you of how broken you felt.

You make your way inside, the walls of the house pressing in on you as the weight in your chest grows heavier. You don’t think, you just move, your feet carrying you toward Rhys’s extensive wine collection. You knew this was the last thing you needed, but at this moment, reason didn’t matter. You needed an escape, even if only for a little while.

The room is silent, the dim glow of candlelight casting long shadows against the walls. The air is thick with the scent of aged oak and spiced wine as you step closer to the towering shelf where the bottles are kept. Your fingers tremble as you reach out, the cool glass smooth beneath your touch. The bottle is heavy in your grasp, and as you tilt it slightly, the quiet slosh of liquid inside fills the space, sending a shiver down your spine.

A lump rises in your throat. The sound should bring you comfort, should promise relief. But instead, it fills you with dread.

Still, you don’t put it back. You can’t.

You carry the bottle to your room, each step heavy as if the weight of the moment is pressing down on your chest. Once inside, you sit down against your bed, the cool bottle in your hand a fleeting comfort. The first sip is sharp, bitter, but you don’t care. It’s something, a fleeting numbness to give your mind a break.

Time seems to slip away from you as you drink, each sip taking you further from the reality of your grief and you find yourself lying on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The same ceiling that had been your quiet companion over the last few days, offering no answers, only silence. 

The pain doesn’t go away, but it dulls, just enough to allow you a breath, a fleeting moment of rest. You know, deep down, that Azriel would be heartbroken if he found you like this. He would want to fix it, to ease your sorrow, but you couldn’t bear to face him like this. Not when you felt so broken.

But tonight, thankfully, he didn't come. The silence of the room, the emptiness of the space, is almost a relief in some strange way. You’re alone with your grief, your sadness, the hollow ache in your chest.

And so you let the tears come, hot and raw, pouring down your face as you grieve. Grief for the son you lost, for the future that would never be. 

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

Azriel had been racking his mind for days, throwing himself into work to avoid the crushing weight of his failure. If he couldn't ease your pain, if he couldn't reach you, then at the very least, he could do this. He could hunt down the ones responsible and make them suffer. He owed you that much.

His spies had been working relentlessly under his command, tracking down every lead, every whisper in the shadows. He hadn't given himself a moment of rest, hadn’t stopped for even a second, not until he was sure that everyone involved in the attack would feel the same agony that had rooted itself deep in his chest. His training had become more brutal, more punishing so much that even Cassian and Rhys had started to worry. But none of that mattered. Pain was a welcome distraction.

He sat in his office now, his fingers pressed against his temples, exhaustion threatening to consume him. His shadows swirled around him, whispering fragments of information. The others lingered outside your door, unwilling to leave you alone for even a moment. They had been watching over you constantly, silent guardians in the absence of the one who should have been at your side.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts. Rhys and Cassian stepped inside, their expressions grim.

“We found some of them,” Rhys said, his voice measured but tight with unspoken fury. He, too, had been searching. He knew Azriel needed this, and he had sworn to do whatever it took to help his brother find justice or at the very least, vengeance.

Azriel lifted his gaze, the dark circles under his eyes making the icy intensity of them even more striking. “How many?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“We got two,” Rhys admitted. “But they refuse to give up their leader.”

Azriel stood, his grip tightening around Truth-Teller, the blade he had taken from you in fear that you might turn it on yourself. His shadows pulsed around him, eager for violence.

“Leave them to me,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He strode toward the door, but Cassian stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“What do you plan to do, Az?” Cassian asked, his tone cautious but firm.

Azriel’s patience was thin. His nerves were frayed, his restraint all but gone. He met Cassian’s gaze with a cold, unyielding stare. “Whatever it takes.”

Before either of them could stop him, Azriel winnowed straight to the dungeon

The moment he entered, the stench of sweat, blood, and despair clung to him like a second skin. The air was thick with fear, the kind that seeped into the bones and settled there. It was familiar. He welcomed it.

Azriel stepped into the first cell, silent as death itself. The prisoner hadn't noticed him yet, too lost in his own misery to sense the shadows curling around the room, dimming the already faint torchlight.

The man was slumped against the wall, shackles biting into his wrists, his breathing ragged. He hadn’t noticed Azriel yet, not until the door creaked shut behind him. The sound made the man jolt, his head snapping up, his eyes darting frantically around the cell.

Azriel didn’t speak at first. He simply stood in the darkness, letting the silence stretch, letting the man feel the weight of his presence. Fear was a weapon, and Azriel wielded it with deadly precision.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward, into the dim light. His face was expressionless, his Siphons glowing faintly, his wings casting monstrous shadows against the walls.

Slowly, Azriel emerged from the shadows, Truth-Teller glinting in his hand.

The man looked up, and froze.

Azriel tilted his head, his voice quiet, almost gentle.

“Shall we begin?”

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

You wake up to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, your head pounding slightly from last night’s activity. Blinking, you shift under the covers and freeze when you see Azriel sitting in the chair across from your bed.

Your heart stutters, a wave of relief washing over you before something sharper cuts through it..uncertainty. You’re thankful you had the sense to shove the empty bottle under your bed before falling asleep. He hadn’t been visiting as much lately, and now that he was here, you couldn’t help the selfish thought that slithered into your mind. Had he found someone else to be there for him? Someone who could give him what you couldn’t?

The idea alone makes your stomach twist, your heart drop.

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He just watches you, his face unreadable, his hazel eyes dark with something you can’t quite place.

Your gaze drifts over him, his unkempt hair, the deep shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. He looked exhausted. You swallow past the lump in your throat, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “You look like hell.”

Azriel huffs a breath, something like a laugh, but not quite. “So do you.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts your face. Azriel watches you, his gaze unwavering, searching. He always had this way of looking at you, like he saw too much, like he could peel back every layer until there was nothing left to hide. It used to bring you comfort. Now, it only makes you feel exposed.

You force yourself to hold his stare. “Where were you?”

He hesitates. Just for a second. But it’s enough.

“Court handlings,” he finally says, voice careful, measured.

A lie.

You know it immediately, the way his eyes flicker, the way his fingers tighten slightly against his thigh. The realization sends a sharp sting through your chest.

Why was he lying?

Your mind spirals before you can stop it. Had he truly  found someone else? 

You nod slowly, forcing yourself to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat. “Right.”

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then you turn away, shifting beneath the covers. “I’m going back to bed.”

Something flashes across his face, hurt, maybe, or frustration. He doesn’t answer.

Azriel steps forward, but you pull back, suddenly exhausted. “Just go,” you murmur, rubbing a hand over your face. “If you won’t tell me the truth, then just… go.”

For a moment, you think he might fight it. That he might stay. But then his shadows shift, and without another word, he’s gone.

And for the first time since Azriel walked into your room, you wish he hadn’t come at all.

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

You step into the library and finally exhale, the weight on your chest easing just enough to let you breathe. This place had always been your refuge, long before Azriel..before everything. Here, the silence wasn’t suffocating; it was soothing. The books, the worn scent of parchment and ink, the soft glow of the faelights, it all wrapped around you like an old friend, welcoming you home.

It was the first time you had ventured out in a while, and yet, you hadn’t been able to ask Azriel or anyone else for help. You couldn’t bear the pity in their eyes, the lingering stares, the questions no one dared to ask but that burned in the air between you. 

The tension with Azriel had become unbearable. He was always away on missions, always finding something to occupy himself while you remained here stuck, drowning in grief that everyone else seemed to have moved past. The only thing that stayed, the only thing that didn’t judge you, were the bottles hidden beneath your bed.

"Get it together," you whisper to yourself, trying to push away the lump that was threatening to rise in your throat. But it was hard, everything felt so raw.

You make your way to the front desk, and the moment Clotho sees you, she moves with quiet urgency, wrapping her arms around you in a hug. That meant she had heard.

You freeze for just a second before slowly relaxing into the embrace. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at your lips. Clotho,like every priestess in this library was wary of physical touch. They had all endured horrors that made something as simple as a hug feel foreign, even unsafe. And yet, Clotho had always welcomed you, always made you feel like you belonged.

She had been the first to open her arms to you when your family had let you go.

You let yourself sink into the warmth of it, the quiet comfort. Just for a moment.

"I'm fine," you murmur as you pull back, but Clotho only gives you a stern look, the kind that says you don’t have to lie to her, that she knows the truth even if you don’t say it.

She cups your cheeks gently, her touch light but grounding, then presses a soft kiss to your forehead, just like she always did when you were younger. The simple gesture undoes something inside you, and you swallow hard against the sting behind your eyes.

Clotho doesn’t let go of you just yet. Instead, she gently takes your hand and guides you toward a stack of books waiting to be shelved. There’s no explanation, no request, just quiet understanding.

This is what you used to do when you were younger. Back then, when your mind felt too heavy, when the weight of the world pressed down on your chest, Clotho would set you to work organizing the shelves. It helped then. She must have known it would help now, too.

You take the books without a word and begin placing them where they belong, running your fingers over the spines, breathing in the scent of parchment and ink. Slowly, steadily, your thoughts stop spiraling. Your mind quiets. The task grounding you in a way nothing else has in weeks.

By the time you place the last book on the shelf, you realize how much time has passed. The library’s fae lights are dimmer now, the soft glow of evening settling in. It’s dinnertime,so with a soft goodbye, you promise Clotho that you’ll return soon. She doesn’t press, only pats your hand before you step out of the library and into the cool evening time.

The walk to the House of Wind is longer than you remember. Or maybe it just feels that way because of the overwhelming pressure you felt.

When you step inside, the warmth of the house greets you, along with the scent of freshly cooked food. And the first person you see is Elain.

You and Elain had never really been close. It wasn’t animosity, it was more of an unspoken unease. Her ability, the things she knew without ever saying, made you feel exposed in a way you weren’t ready to confront.

She’s standing near the staircase, her soft, golden-brown hair catching the light from the chandeliers.She smiles warmly when she spots you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “You’re just in time for dinner,” she says, her voice gentle.

You try to return her smile, though it feels strained. “I’m just going to change,” you murmur, not quite meeting her gaze.

You make your way to your room and slowly change into something more comfortable.This would be the first time in weeks that you were eating with everyone instead of taking your meals in solitude. The thought makes your stomach twist with unease, but you remind yourself that this was a step, one you had to take if you ever wanted to feel like yourself again.

As you slip into your clothes, your gaze catches on the mirror. For a moment, you hesitate, but then you force yourself to look.

The reflection staring back at you feels like a stranger. Your eyes, once bright and full of life, now seemed hollow, empty. Dark circles cling stubbornly beneath them, the proof of many sleepless nights. Your skin looked pale, your shoulders slouched under the weight of invisible burdens.

Your hand moves instinctively to your stomach, and the moment your fingers graze it, you flinch. The touch sends a wave of emotions crashing over you..grief, shame, self-consciousness all swirling into a tight knot in your chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the wave of emotions back down before they can consume you. Not now. Not tonight.

Instead, you take a slow, deliberate breath and drop your hand, straightening your posture. You smooth out the fabric of your shirt, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on the simple act of walking out that door and sitting at the table with the others.

You make your way into the dining room, and immediately, the quiet buzz of conversation dies down. The inner circle is seated around the table—Feyre, Rhys,Nesta, Mor, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Varian and Azriel, his presence heavy in the air. They all seem surprised to see you, but your eyes stay locked on Azriel. He hadn’t come to see you, hadn’t spoken to you since… since everything started falling apart. And that silence between you was suffocating. It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, waiting for you to move, to say something.

Feyre’s voice breaks the tension. “Y/n?” It’s soft, but you can hear the underlying nerves. Her gaze flickered between you and Azriel, but no one knew how to approach the subject. The weight of their concern pressed on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, to even look at him.

You sit down, your heart heavy in your chest. You’re seated in front of Azriel, but your eyes are firmly fixed on the table, unwilling to meet his gaze. Cassian nudges you lightly with a grin, trying to ease the tension, and you offer him a small, strained smile. It’s the best you can do. You hate how distant you’ve become, how cold you feel even with them all around. You just don’t know how to fix it, how to get past this wall that’s built itself between you and everyone else.

The food appears on the table, but you can barely bring yourself to care. The hunger in your stomach is drowned out, and you struggle to find any appeal in the meal before you. You can feel the ache in your bones, the emptiness pulling you under, and the thought of drinking, of losing yourself in something that would numb the pain, rises to the surface. It’s getting harder to fight it. You don’t want to fall back into old habits, but everything feels so overwhelming.

“I have an announcement to make,” Feyre suddenly stands, her voice trembling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. You glance at Rhys, his face full of pride and warmth, and you know this is something they’ve been waiting for, something important. You brace yourself, though, not knowing what kind of announcement could break the tension in the air.

“I’m pregnant.”

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Hey guys, so I’ve been deciding if I should make the parts shorter or you guys don’t care how long the chapters are because I just feel like she has a lot to overcome but I don’t want to bore y’all. So pls vote

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Pt 2.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Y/n grapples with overwhelming grief and emotional turmoil.

TW!!: miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, emotional turmoil

Pls don't read if these things trigger you. Thank you guys for reading!!

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

Azriel’s heart sinks as he realizes what’s happening. “No, no,” he whispers, his voice breaking. The shadows around him swirl in panic, mirroring the storm raging inside him.

"Rhys," Azriel says desperately, dropping his mental shields, his voice frantic and uneven. "Get Madja. Now. Something’s wrong with Y/N."

"On it," Rhys replies immediately, his tone sharp and firm. But it offers little comfort as Azriel turns his gaze back to you.

“We need to get you to Madja,” he says urgently, his hand moving to your stomach again, fear tightening his grip.

Without hesitation, Azriel lifts you into his arms and takes off, running as fast as he can toward the House of Wind. The wind whipping through his hair and stinging his eyes, but his only focus was on you.The way your body trembled, the way your breath was too shallow, too weak. You were in a state of shock, your mind reeling in denial and confusion..

By the time he reached the House of wind, Madja was already waiting, Rhys and Cassian close behind, their worry palpable.

“What’s happening?” Rhys demands, his eyes darting between you and Azriel.

 “She’s in pain. There was blood. She just-” He exhales sharply, trying to steady himself, but the terror gripping his chest makes it near impossible.

Madja wastes no time. “Put her down. Now.” Her sharp gaze sweeps over you before she turns to the others. "I need everyone out. Except Azriel”.

Azriel gently lays you on the bed, brushing damp hair from your face. His touch is tender, his hands trembling slightly as he grips yours. “I’m here, love,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet resolute. “You’re not alone.”

Madja crouches beside you, her experienced hands moving quickly over your body, assessing, analyzing. Then she looks up, her face grave.

“You’re in early labor, Y/N,” she says, her voice urgent. “And you need to start pushing. Now.”

The words crash over you like a tidal wave. Your chest tightens, panic flaring in your veins.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head, denial wrapping around you like a vice. Your body feels too weak, too broken. “I-I can’t.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightens. “You can,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “You have to. You’re stronger than you know.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “It hurts..I can’t-”

Azriel leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I know, love,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I know. But you have to push.”

A sob rips through you, but you nod weakly, drawing in a ragged breath before forcing all your strength into one final push.

And then relief. But the room was silent.

You wait, gasping, heart pounding, but the sound that should follow—the sound of your baby’s first cry never comes.

Madja doesn’t speak right away, her focus entirely on the unmoving infant in her hands. She taps his back, firm but gentle. Nothing.

“No,” you whisper, your vision blurring with fresh tears. “No, no—”

Azriel is frozen beside you, his entire body rigid with shock. The shadows around him stutter, unsure, lost.

Madja tries again, rubbing the baby’s back, willing him to move, to breathe, to live.

But the silence is deafening.

Finally, she looks up, her expression something you don’t want to name. Something you refuse to accept.

She doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

A strangled sob tears from your throat as you reach for him. “My baby.”

Madja hesitates only a moment before gently placing him in your arms. His tiny body is still warm, impossibly small against your chest. You cradle him, a raw, guttural wail escaping you.

Azriel wraps himself around you, his arms holding you together even as you shatter completely. His own tears fall freely now, his breath uneven, his hands trembling as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Azriel,” you sob, your voice desperate, broken. “Help. Please.”

He holds you tighter, his whole body shaking, his wings curling protectively around you as if he can somehow shield you from the unbearable weight of this loss.

Madja steps forward, hesitant. “Y/N…” she says softly, her voice thick with sorrow. “You have to let go.”

But you can’t.

You clutch your baby closer, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, willing him to wake up, to cry, to do something. But there’s only silence. Only stillness.

Azriel's grip on you tightens, his heart breaking as he watches you unravel. He doesn’t tell you to let go. He doesn’t rush you. He just holds you through it, taking your pain into himself, as if by sheer will alone, he can carry it for you.

But when your arms finally loosen, when the last of your strength ebbs away, Madja gently takes the baby from you.

And the moment his small weight leaves your arms, you collapse against Azriel, your entire body shaking with grief so consuming it feels like drowning.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

Madja steps back, giving you both space to grieve.

The silence that followed was unbearable, broken only by the sound of your quiet sobs and Azriel’s whispered reassurances as the world seemed to crumble around you.

*******************************************************The next day, you wake up with a heavy heart, the pain so overwhelming that you had passed out. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, a strange numbness settling over you like a suffocating fog. Your eyes wander the room until they land on Azriel, asleep in the chair, his face contorted with worry even in his dreams. His brows are furrowed, a sight you were always so used to smoothing away with a gentle touch.

You lay there in bed, the weight of your loss pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. All you wanted in that moment was to hold your son, to feel his warmth in your arms, to hear his tiny cries filling the silence that now seemed unbearable.

Slowly, you push yourself up, careful not to wake Azriel, and make your way to the windowsill. Fresh tears spill down your face as you climb onto it, the cool night air biting at your skin. The city stretches out before you, but it feels so distant. The thought of ending it all whispers through your mind, soft and enticing. It would be so simple, so painless. Just an escape from this unrelenting agony.

You close your eyes, letting the wind whip against your face, and for a fleeting moment, the idea feels like a release.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes flutter open, and you turn to see Azriel standing there, his body tense, his golden eyes wide with fear. He’s careful as he takes a step forward, his hand reaching out as if afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

Azriel could never put into words the terror that gripped him in that moment. Waking up to his shadows in a frenzy, only to see you perched on the edge, it was a sight he knew would haunt him forever.

His voice is rough with desperation. “What are you doing?”

Tears stream freely down your face as you whisper his name, your voice hoarse, broken. “Azriel… I should have died instead of him. I—I can’t live without my baby.”

Azriel feels something inside him shatter at your words. The raw, aching agony in your voice slices through him like a blade, leaving him bleeding and helpless. He has faced war, endured centuries of pain, but nothing, nothing could compare to the feeling of watching the person he loves teetering on the edge of despair.

Azriel’s breath shudders as he takes another slow step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. His wings twitch as if ready to propel him forward at the slightest sign that you might fall. His voice, usually so controlled, is laced with pure, unfiltered desperation.

“Please,” he whispers. “Come down, love. Just—just take my hand.”

You shake your head, your entire body wracked with silent sobs. “How can you even look at me? You should despise me, he was meant to be alive” you croak, your voice barely audible over the wind. “We had all those plans for our family. And now—” Your voice cracks, and you let out a choked sob. “Now there's nothing.”

“There is something,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “There’s me.”

Your eyes snap to his, and for the first time, he sees the true depth of your pain. It’s a black hole, swallowing everything in its path, pulling you further and further away from him.

Azriel takes another step forward, so close now that he could touch you if he reached out. “I know it hurts,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I know this pain feels like it’ll never leave. But if you go,if you let this grief take you…I’ll lose you too.”

He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “And I can’t, Y/N. I won’t survive that. I need you.”

Tears stream down your face as you stare at him, at the way his body trembles with the effort of holding himself together. Your lips part, but no words come.

Azriel moves then, ever so slowly, reaching out his scarred hand. “Take my hand,” he pleads, his voice raw. “Please, love. Let me hold you.”

For a long, agonizing moment, you don’t move. Then, with a broken sob, you let go..not of life, but of the ledge.

Azriel moves faster than a breath, his arms locking around you, pulling you off the windowsill and against his chest. He stumbles back onto the floor with you in his grasp, his wings flaring to keep his balance.

And then you’re both on the ground, tangled together, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it’s as if he’s trying to hold you together with his own strength.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently as you sob into his chest. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”

You clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. And maybe, just maybe, he is.

The next day, a soft knock echoes through your room. You don’t respond. The door creaks open, and you hear the quiet footsteps of Rhys and Feyre entering. You don’t look at them. Your gaze stays fixed on the ceiling, the emptiness in your chest mirrored by the blankness of your stare.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre’s voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, as though she’s afraid to break the fragile silence.

You don’t answer immediately, your throat dry, your heart heavy. Finally, your voice comes, flat and devoid of emotion. “Like my son just died.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and jagged. Feyre flinches at the raw honesty, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Normally, you might have softened your response, tried to cushion the blow. But today? Today, you didn’t care. Today, you had a pass.

Rhys shifts uncomfortably, his usual confidence gone. He stands quietly, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight as if he’s holding back his emotions at seeing you so broken.

Feyre takes a step closer, her face filled with anguish, but she doesn’t push. She doesn’t tell you it will be okay. She doesn’t try to offer empty platitudes. Instead, she kneels by your bedside, her hand resting lightly on yours.

“We’re here,” she says softly, her voice breaking just enough to reveal her pain. “For whatever you need. Whenever you’re ready.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. 

After a long, heavy silence, they seem to understand that words won’t reach you right now. They exchange a quiet glance with azriel before leaving to attend to court matters, Not long after, Azriel approaches you. His presence is familiar, grounding in a way that should comfort you, but it only makes the ache in your chest deepen.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks gently.

You shake your head.

“Love, you have to eat something,” he presses, his voice thick with concern. “You haven’t had anything since…” His voice trails off, as if saying the words will make them more real.

You finally turn your head to look at him. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his usually sharp features dulled by grief and sleepless nights. The sight makes your heart clench with guilt. He was breaking too.

“Soup,” you whisper.

Instantly, the House prepares it, a warm bowl appearing on the nightstand. Without hesitation, Azriel takes it and settles beside you, spoon in hand. He feeds you in quiet patience, his free hand brushing against yours between bites, as if reassuring himself that you’re still here.

When you’re finally full, you murmur, “You should get some sleep, Az.”

His brows furrow. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been up here with me this whole time.” Your voice is weak, but insistent. “You need to eat too.”

Azriel exhales, his jaw tightening like he wants to argue, but the exhaustion weighing down his body betrays him. He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. “I’ll eat,” he promises softly. “But I’m not leaving you.”

A week had passed, but nothing had really changed. The pain hadn’t dulled, and neither had the emptiness inside of you. It felt like the world was moving on, but you were stuck, frozen in time, haunted by the grief that weighed down your every step.

You had lost weight. The energy it took to even get out of bed some mornings was overwhelming. Most days, you were distant, a part of you dissociating from the reality around you. It was like you were watching everything from behind glass, everyone’s worried faces, their desperate attempts to help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but the void that was slowly swallowing you.

There were days when you couldn’t even look at Azriel. When his eyes would meet yours, you’d look away, guilt gnawing at your insides. You didn’t deserve his love, his devotion. Not when you had failed him in the most unimaginable way. He deserved happiness, and you had robbed him of it.

Azriel noticed. Of course, he noticed. He was always there, sitting by your side, his presence unwavering, but even he couldn’t reach you anymore. The words he whispered to you, the soft touch of his hand, they didn’t seem to matter. His eyes, once filled with love, now carried a sorrow of their own. 

He had tried to coax you out of the silence, to talk, to share your pain, but you wouldn’t let him in. It was like there was a barrier you had built, an impenetrable wall that refused to break. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

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

Azriel quietly slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb you. You had finally fallen into a restless sleep, though he knew it would be a long while before the weight of grief would allow you the peace of a true rest. His heart ached as he watched you, wishing there was more he could do to take the pain away. But for now, all he could do was give you space, even if it felt like everything was falling apart around him.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, his steps heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. The hunger gnawing at his stomach barely registered, his appetite long gone in the wake of everything that had happened. But he knew he needed to eat, if only to keep himself moving, keep himself strong. Even though he could barely muster the energy to lift a fork, he forced himself to sit down and try.

As he stared at the food in front of him, Cassian walked in, his usual energetic presence subdued. The concern in his eyes was impossible to miss as he took a seat across from Azriel.

"You okay, brother?" Cassian asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Azriel looks up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, though he hides it behind a mask. He offers a small, tight-lipped smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Cassian doesn’t buy it, of course. He studies his brother’s face, sensing the unspoken pain and the weight Azriel is carrying. “You’ve been up there all day with her. How is she really doing?”

Azriel’s gaze drifts down to the empty plate in front of him. His fingers absently trace the edges of the porcelain. “"I don't know," he admits quietly, the words more fragile than he intended. “I feel like I’m failing her," he says, his voice barely audible. "She’s hurting, and I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this... any of this."”

Cassian’s expression softens.. "You’re not failing her. You’re with her, Az. That’s what matters. She needs you here, now. And when she’s ready, you’ll be there to help her heal. But you’ve got to take care of yourself too."

Azriel’s jaw tightens. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just feel like I’m losing her Cass,”he finally admits, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I don’t know how to help her through this. And it scares me.”

“I know you can’t. But sometimes... just being with someone is enough. That's all you can do right now.” Cassian’s voice is quiet but firm, understanding the depth of Azriel’s emotions. “You’re not alone in this, you know. We’re all here for you both.”

Azriel nods, but the words feel hollow, unable to fill the ache in his chest. He leans back in his chair, the silence between them heavy. He knew Cassian was right, but letting himself rest felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford..not right now.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: There's an attack on Velaris and you and Azriel are struggling to reconnect after sudden events that leave the both of you broken beyond repair.

Warnings: miscarriage, angst, drinking and suicidal thoughts!!

Word count:  1.3K

Note: I've been debating posting this but I hope you all like it.

———————————————————————————

You’re at home when you feel a sudden shake in the Earth. You're at home alone because your mate had some work to do and even though he had trouble leaving you this late into your pregnancy, you had assured him that you were going to be okay. How cruel faith was. You  run to the nearest window and see people scrambling to get to safety. Velaris was under attack.

Your door busts open and you pick up Truthteller ready to defend yourself. “Y/n?” Azriel shouts frantically. “Azriel?” you call out panicked from your room. He rushes into the bedroom and the first thing you notice is the blood on his hand and he looked like he was about to throw up. 

“Are you alright?” He asks immediately, looking you up and down looking for injuries. You nod, placing both hands on his cheeks. “Are you?” Your gaze flickers back to the blood staining his hands.

 “I'm fine love, it's not mine” he reassures you. “Is everyone okay?” you ask worried about the others and azriel lets out a tired sigh, his fingers stroking your stomach. He didn't want to add to your already rising anxiety. “Everyones fine, we just need to get to the house of wind, Rhys and Cassian are on the front lines right now but it's going to be okay”.

You sigh and look at him “how are we gonna get there az, i can't fly or winnow when i'm pregnant” azriel rubs a hand over his face. He had completely forgotten that you can't winnow and he didn't want to risk that. “We’ll just have to run or something, i'll try to keep up” you add, attempting a weak smile, though the thought of running when you could barely make it through the house without losing your breath felt impossible.

He wanted to protest because the thought of putting you in discomfort was gnawing at him. “Az we need to go now” you say looking outside and seeing more people screaming and running. He grabs your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “No matter what you stay behind me and if there's any sign of trouble I want you to run okay?” he says and you open your mouth to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

As you both make your way out, Azriels grip on your hand is tight as he leads you through the streets keeping you close to him. He had his other hand guiding your eyes away from the dead bodies that littered the ground. Azriel’s presence is the only thing keeping you grounded, his calm strength a fragile thread in the chaos.

You turn into a street and five men start approaching you. “If it isn't the shadowsinger and his little mate” the one leading sneers and the others chuckle darkly, their eyes glinting with malice. Azriel immediately pulls you closer to his side, his wings flaring slightly as his body shields you protectively. His posture is tense, his shadows coiled, but he knows he can’t act rashly, not with your life and the baby’s on the line.

 “Remember what i said, if this goes south, i want you to run. immediately” he orders, his voice low enough for only you to hear. You glance up at him, your heart hammering in your chest. His jaw is set, his hazel eyes sharp and focused, but beneath the steely exterior, you can sense his worry.

The lapdogs charge for azriel and you do everything you can to not freak out. Azriel moves with lethal grace, his shadows moving frantically. They seem to move in sync with his every move, attacking with a precision only Azriel is capable of. A few shadows detach, staying close to you, their presence a small comfort in the chaos. But even with his unmatched skill, the men are surprisingly skilled too, their movements sharp and coordinated. This was not an easy fight.

You feel someone's hand clamp on your mouth suddenly as you get dragged away. The last thing you hear is azriel screaming your name. You bite down hard on your captor’s hand. He roars in pain, releasing you just enough for you to twist out of his grasp, stumbling forward, barely catching yourself. 

You start running when you're dragged back by your hair “Let me go” you struggle against him and you feel a cold blade press against your throat making you freeze.

He leans in close, his voice low and cold “Not so tough now, are you?” his breath hot against your ear. “What do you want?” you spit, your voice steady despite the blade biting into your skin

His smirk widens “Oh aren't you tough” he mocks the dagger pressing harder against your skin. “What do you think I want, little girl?” you hiss “I am no girl” and you watch in disgust as he laughs “No, you're not, you're a pregnant girl, which makes you more valuable to me” your heart drops and the urge to protect burns so deep in your body. Not just yourself, but the life growing inside you.

He has no time to react as you take Truthteller and stab it in his neck with all the strength you can muster. He gasps and struggles for air, he tries to say something, but instead coughs up a lungful of blood before falling to the ground .His cries of pain turn into gurgled whimpers, and then silence. The only sound left is your labored breathing as you kneel over his lifeless body.

You fall to the ground exhausted as you stare at the blood all over you. Your entire body shakes as adrenaline courses through your veins. You begin to feel weak and lightheaded

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel runs through the bodies he had just discarded, his eyes desperately searching for any sign of you. His heart pounding in his chest as he calls out your name, his voice getting more frantic. He should have been with you, he should have been there for you. If anything happened to you, he was never going to forgive himself–

He finally sees you. You were kneeling on the ground, your hands on your stomach, and your face was hauntingly pale. He rushes over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you. His eyes taking in your exhausted form and the exhaustion on your face.

You look up at azriel and the relief you felt was overwhelming. He wraps you in his arms. His face buried in your hair, his body shaking with a mixture of fear and relief. And then he began to cry. “I was so scared” his grip on you was tightening as he held you.

He took a shaky breath, “I should've been here” he whispered. “I should have been here to protect you”.  You gently place your hands on his cheeks, lifting his face to meet your gaze. “ it wasn't your fault”, you say softly, your voice firm “And besides, it looks like i did pretty  good on my own” you tease looking at the dead body beside you. 

He chuckles softly, “yeah you did good love”. He looks down at you again looking for injuries. Az are you and y/n okay? We just got rid of the attackers, where are you? Rhys voice booms in his ear. Yh we’re fine, on our way.

 Azriel stands up “Rhys is waiting for us, you ready?” he asks as he helps you stand up, but before you can answer, a sharp pain radiates through your stomach, stealing your breath. You clutch at Azriel’s arm, your face twisting in pain. “Something’s wrong” you say to azriel and his eyes widen as your hand flies to your stomach. “Y/n? what's wrong” his voice laces with worry. 

 Instinctively, your hands go to your stomach, and when you pull them back, your heart stops. Blood

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Still coping after that ending so I’m a bit fragile right now😭

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

I honestly feel like I’m grieving someone I knew personally. I didn’t realize but somewhere down the line I had gotten attached to jinx because I saw so much of myself in her and I just can’t let myself believe she’s actually gone.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Maybe just maybe we’ll meet in another universe

You’ll look at me and I’ll look at you

We’ll stare at each other waiting for someone to make the first move

But somehow we wouldn’t because we both know how much hurt we’ve caused each other

I’ll smile at you, turn around and start walking away wishing you’ll stop me

But you wouldn’t because that’s just our fate

Two people who still love each other but know they shouldn’t.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Does anyone else just feel a random wave of sadness wash over them or am l going crazy? I can literally be in bed and then I'll start crying because I didn't call my mum or I forgot to say 1 love you to my dad when he called me.