valkyrie138

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 4

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: Azriel has a chat with his brothers and a moment with Elain

Note: Sorry for the wait y'all. School started, and basically all of my time has been focused on that. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to TA not one but two classes, but it's kicking my ass. I think I've got a handle on my schedule now, so I hope the updates will be more regular.

Word Count: 1.8k

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Sitting in this office, being back home, was proving to be difficult for Azriel. He had been ordered to stay away from Elain by Rhysand, an order that had planted a seed of anger that he had shoved deep down within him. It had managed to stay there, but being back in this house, in this room, he could feel it growing inside him. Some part of him hated that seed of anger, resented it even, resented the fact that it lived and grew within him still. His shadows swirled around him like they, too, were growing angry. Azriel took a deep breath through his nose, letting the air fill his lungs and wash over him, calming him, if only slightly. He had stayed away from Elain just as Rhysand had ordered. He occupied his time searching for new leads on Koschei, training the priestesses and valkyries. It had been weeks since he and his brothers were together and alone. It was a new reality that Azriel had to adapt to. Both his brothers were mated. One had a child now. The days of it just being the three of them were no longer. They both had moved on with their lives, while Azriel was stuck behind, longing for what they both had. He knew that it would happen eventually. He just thought that he would be doing it with them. He thought he had a chance to have it with Elain, three brothers and three sisters. It's a story that would have been so perfectly fated. But that chance was gone, and Azriel didn’t know who to blame. He felt that seed inside him tingle as he glanced up at Rhysand. Azriel then looked upon his brother, who had been awkwardly shifting his seat, albeit subtly; Cassian was obviously debating how to break the tension. It was Rhysand who broke the tension first. 

“The night court emissary from Cretea will arrive in two days.” 

“What do we know about her?” Cassian asked, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs.

“She is 76, half-seraphim, half-high fae. Her mother came from the Winter Court before the War. She’s…powerful.” Azriel raised a brow at that. It was rare for his brother to be blunt about someone's power. Many individuals were influential in Prythian, but none had Rhys given him a reason to hesitate. Rhysand continued. “Astrid is a daemati,” Rhysand paused as if recalling the female. “Her powers are different from mine and Feyre’s; she can not only go into people's minds but also feel their emotions. With that being said, her shields are weak, and she practically screamed her thoughts when I met her.” Rhysand paused again; Azriel watched his brother. This woman had him curious. Azriel didn't think that Rhysand saw her as a threat, but he almost seemed troubled by her.  “When I went there for Feyre, they asked me if I would be open to training her.”

“And you declined at the time?” Cassian asked slowly. 

“Not quite. Astrid had advised me to… postpone her training, that is, if I was open to it. She understood that Feyre’s condition was much more dire and told me to think it over when everything turned out alright. Ultimately, She decided to stay in Cretea and continue looking for information to help Feyre.”

“And you’re troubled by her.”

“Do you think she’s a potential threat?” Azriel’s shadows swirled at the thought as if they, too, were curious about the female. Azriel watched as his brother swallowed. 

The High Lord is unsure, his shadows whispered to him.

Rhysand glanced up at Azriel like he knew what his shadows had told him. “She is powerful in a raw, almost singular way. But her powers were almost controlling her then. I assumed everything was fine with the birth of Nyx and since Miryam hadn’t sent word. But something must have happened for Miryam to send that letter.” 

“They didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, they just said there was an incident. No one was hurt besides Astrid.” 

“And you’re wondering what that incident was?” Cassian deduced. Rhysand only nodded in reply.

“Koschei is still out there. Beron is still a threat. There are only so many things that I can keep an eye on. Too many powerful players who use their magic for not the right reasons.” 

The High Lord wants her to be an ally. He doesn’t want her falling into the wrong hands. The shadows said lowly in his ear. 

Rhysand looked at Azriel expectantly. He wanted him to spy on her. Azriel furrowed his eyebrows at the command. He wondered just how powerful this female was. 

“Well, with how powerful she sounds, Rhys, I’m glad she will be Azriel's problem,” Cassian joked, slapping his hand on Azriel’s shoulder as he looked between his brothers, obviously understanding the quiet conversation between the two. 

“Oh, don’t worry, brother. You won’t be missing out on any of the fun. When she is ready, she will start training with the Valkyries and the priestesses, " Rhysand pointedly told Cassian. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

Azriel tried to shake the conversation with Rhysand for the rest of the day. He knew that his new duty meant having to spend more time at home, something he had been actively avoiding as of late. A knot had grown tight inside him throughout the day, a coil ready to snap. He had tried to train the tension out of him, and when that didn’t work, he followed up on some leads and finally flew around Velaris for a few hours before giving up. He decided to grab a cup of tea before returning to his room in the townhouse. He was going to stay at the House of Wind but wanted to enjoy one last night of peace before staying there while the emissary was visiting. He stopped in his tracks as he reached the doorway of the kitchen. Elain’s brown eyes locked with his surprise laced her features. 

Cauldron, he’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was. He lifted a brow, noticing the tiny bit of flour on her cheek. His eyes shifted to the kitchen counter. A ball of dough lay there. 

“It’s a bit late to be baking bread.” Azriel joked before making his way over the cupboards grabbing a cup. 

“I lost track of time in the garden. I was supposed to do this hours ago.” 

“It looks beautiful, and Rhys and Feyre’s garden is stunning.” 

 A blush began to form across Elains cheeks. Azriel fought a smile before grabbing the kettle, filling it with water before putting it on the stove. “It must've taken quite a bit of time.” 

“It wasn’t too bad. I enjoyed it, and some day’s Nyx helped.” 

Azriel didn’t stop himself from smiling then. An image of Elain in the garden, Nyx by her sound as the baby's hands fumbled in the dirt. His body warmed at the image.

“I’m sure the little Lord was a huge help when he wasn’t trying to eat the dirt.” 

Elain giggled at that, the sound like music to his ears. He gave her another small smile before preparing his tea and moving to the kitchen table. A comfortable silence sat between the two, the only occasional sound of Elain's kneading filling the air. Azriel took a sip of his tea, peering up at Elain. He watched as her small smile turned to a furrow in her brow. 

Elain suddenly turned away from her dough. She cleared her throat and focused on her hands, “Azriel, I’ve been meaning to ask…do you think it's possible to be friends with some, even if they have feelings towards you?”

Surprise hit Azriel. He glanced over at her, “I suppose.” He knew he shouldn’t entertain this conversation. Azriel knew that learning more would only lead to disappointment, but he couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “Why do you ask?”

Elain gulped, returning to her dough as she worked through what she was trying to say. Azriel watched as Elain gulped before muttering. “Everything is just so complicated.” He didn’t know how to respond to that or if he should. Elain was right. Everything was complicated. She was mated to Lucien, a male who very well could declare a blood duel if she rejected him in favor of another. Elain’s hands slowed as she stared at the dough. “Sometimes I think I should just focus on what’s right in front of me.” She glanced over at him now. But whatever was between them, they had never said or admitted to anything aloud. The only small part of action that had happened was the almost kiss almost a year and a half ago. She looked at him now almost expectantly, like she was waiting for him to say something. 

“Stay away from her.”

The order bounced around his head again. He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t say anything to her. Offer her no hope of anything possibly being between them. He couldn’t. A slight panic ran through him, his shadows off somewhere shaking with it as well. A look of realization dawned on Elains face. 

“Like Lucien,” she said almost dejectedly. Azriel felt his heart sink, a dull ache forming in his chest. 

“Right, like Lucien.” Elain turned toward him fully now. Her hands left the table, now brushing them against the skirt of her dress. 

“What if I'm not sure? What if The Mother got it wrong,” Elain said, eyes almost pleading. Azriel knew the statement for what it was. A final question: would he admit that he felt something for her, that there was something between them? Something he wanted to pursue, something he didn’t want to deny. He wanted to kill Rhys at that moment. Azriel swallowed hard before opening his mouth. 

“It’s okay to be uncertain. You can explore and find that it's not what you want. You are allowed to change your mind.” He couldn’t completely shut down the idea of them. He hoped she understood what he was saying and the underlying message. If things were to not work out between her and Lucien, he would be waiting for her. At least at that point, Rhysand couldn’t deny them being together. If Lucien and Elain weren’t the right fit, she tried and returned to him. Rhysand might allow it, then. 

“You mean to say that I should give Lucien a chance?” She asked hesitantly. Azriel forced himself to nod at her. 

“Yes…he cares for you.” Azriel struggled to get the words out. He cared for her, too.

Elain cleared her throat then. “Right.” She muttered before returning to her dough, her hands starting to need it again. “I just didn’t know if you had any thoughts about it.” The ache in Azriels chest deepened then. He had a lot of thoughts on the matter, so much so that he wanted to drive truth-teller into himself, hoping he could be honest with her. But he couldn’t, and that seed of anger sprouted more and more every minute. 

“I’m always here if you need to talk. I only want the best for you.” Azriel assured, trying to keep the pain in his voice hidden. 

“Thank you, Azriel, I appreciate it,” she said softly. 

“Anytime Elain.” 

»»————-　✼　————-««

Tag List: @rcarbo1 @annamariereads16 @knittedchapters

[valkyrie138]

me trying to edit this chapter

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 3

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: angst, canon-type violence, murder, torture

Note: Surprise bitches another chapter

Word Count: 396

Next

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She couldn’t move. She could only watch. The blood was like a warm blanket on her cold body. Astrid tried screaming as she watched her tear them apart. She tried to move any part of her body to do something, anything to stop her. Her sisters were dead. Their lifeless eyes stared back at her, their wings cut off and sprawled around the room. Her father screamed as he tried to fight the assailant, only to fall moments later. She could only watch as the shadowed lady tortured and killed him, then moved to her mother. Her mother, her standing pillar, and she could do nothing to stop the horror that was coming. She wanted to rage against the poison and fight it, but she couldn’t. And as the light left her mother's eyes, the assailant stalked towards her. Her family was gone, dead and mangled, lying around her. She would be next; she didn’t fight as the woman gripped one of her wings. 

The assassin was saying something to her but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe. At this moment, Astrid wished she could speak; she wished she could speak the assailants' death into reality. She wished she had more power, every power, anything to exact revenge on the assassin.  Astrid wanted to fight, wanted to hear the assailant scream for mercy, to beg the mother for forgiveness. But she couldn’t move, she couldn’t do anything. Astrid watched the blade come down on her wing, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Dear Rhysand, 

Words cannot begin to express how happy we are with the news of the birth of Nyx and that both he and Feyre are healthy. That child is lucky to have come from two extraordinary parents. Drakon and I are eager to meet and see him grow into the impeccable male we know he will be. 

I am also writing to inquire if the offer to train Astrid still stands. I’m sorry to ask this after such a difficult time for your family. The situation has grown precarious; I’m afraid Astrid is becoming a danger to herself. We have scoured the libraries, met with healers, trained her, and she has only deteriorated. She needs guidance from you. I eagerly await your reply. 

Your friend, 

Miryam. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

Tag List: @rcarbo1 @annamariereads16 @knittedchapters

[valkyrie138]

Masterlist

A Court of Ice and Shadow

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - soon!!!

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 2

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: Astrid meets Rhysand and learns troubling news.

Note: We're off to a slow start, but I really wanted to lay the groundwork before we get into the meat of everything. I just need to finish editing, so the next few chapters might be coming over the next few days. Again, I'm open to constructive criticism!

Word Count: 1.8k

Next

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The court gossip of the High Lord’s striking appearance proved true. He embodied the night sky with sleek black attire, dark wings, and violet eyes that sparkled like stars. Despite his near-perfect appearance, Astrid felt a low panic beneath his cool exterior. The panic had been steadily growing throughout dinner, and as a result, so had her headache. She had to hand it to the male; if she couldn’t feel his outward panic, you wouldn’t be able to tell that anything was troubling the High Lord. He was vivacious and had Prince Drakon and Miryam howling with laughter more than a few times over the meal. The dinner was full of news of how the other courts and the Night Court were fairing after the war against Hybern. Despite the emotions he was pushing onto her, she was trying to focus on Rhysand’s report that the Illyrian legion had taken significant damage but was recovering well enough. She had been quiet most of the evening, only uttering a few words here and there while she tried to separate her anxiety from Rhysand’s. 

“The Seraphims are still recovering; there were many wing injuries, some are still rehabilitating but hope to fly again. But we have been focusing much of our attention on the warriors that lost their wings.” Drakon said, his voice low. 

Astrid’s throat tightened, her white wings fluttering slightly, a small reminder that hers were intact, that she hadn’t them like some, like Lucy. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her friend. The low thrum of pain in her had now grown to a sharp pounding; whatever anxieties Rhysand had were increasing by the minute. Astrid looked to Miryam, her sapphire eyes catching the Lady’s green ones. Astrid gently let her fork down on her plate before moving her fingers up to her temple and tapping. Miryam replied with a slight nod. With that, Astrid let a soft knock on the door to Miryam’s mind. 

“Yes, Astrid?”

She had to approach this with tact. Astrid didn’t want to cause Miryam alarm over the fact that it felt like her head might explode at any moment. 

“While the High Lord is an exceptional conversationalist, his anxiety is beginning to give me a headache.” Miryam didn’t need to know that he had felt this way all dinner or that it had affected her the whole time. She smiled at the Lady before she retreated from her mind and picked up her fork; Miryam answered with a slight nod.

“Rhysand,” Miryam said, turning her attention toward the High Lord, “You know we are delighted to see you, but I believe if this were a social visit, your lovely mate would be accompanying you. What other news of Prythian do you have to share?’  

The High Lord let out a sigh as his shoulders caved in for a moment. Astrid could see how exhausted Rhysand’s eyes were for just that one second. 

“Feyre is pregnant.”

“Oh, Rhys, that’s wonderful,” Drakon beamed, Rhysand only nodded. Drakon’s smile faltered. “That is wonderful, is it not?”

“The babe has wings, with Feyre being made Fae, she doesn’t…” The High Lord trailed off as if trying to find the right words. 

“Her pregnancy is proving dangerous for her,” Astrid deduced, looking at the High Lord with sympathy. 

        “I am doing all the research I can to help, but birthing the baby is likely…” Rhysand couldn’t quite utter the last few words, as if he couldn’t accept the reality of them. She had heard whispers of the High Lord and Lady’s love affair, one of the ages it seemed. But Astrid knew what those unspoken words meant. The babe was likely to kill her. “I came here to inquire if you knew of anything that could be of assistance.” 

Astrid let the High Lord’s words wash over her. The pain in Rhysand’s eyes was evident; he was losing hope of finding anything that would help his mate. Drakon spearheaded the conversation from there, speaking of Seraphim's birth techniques, new methods, and the anatomy involved in safe births. In short, her Prince and Princess knew nothing that would be useful to the Night Court’s High Lady. Miryam began discussing far away places that Astrid had never of that might have more information. In the selfish part of her mind unease began to spark, they couldn’t ask the High Lord for help when his wife, his mate, was in such distress. To ask for his assistance when her lack of control of her abilities was significantly less dire would be insane. Her mind began reeling. Her palms quickly became slick. 

“Fuck,” she thought to herself. She was back to square one. There would be no training and no help, and she now had to find a new way to fix this stupid mess she was in. She felt sharp talons graze her mind before she could dive further into her rising panic. Her eyes shot toward the High Lord, his violet eyes meeting her sapphire ones. He raised a brow at her, almost as if he was curious. She brushed gently against his mind, and then she was in. 

“Can I help you with something, High Lord?”  

“It’s Rhysand or Rhys if you’re feeling particularly friendly, and while I adore how loud your thoughts are, they are beginning to give me a headache.” She tore her eyes from him as heat rose to her cheeks and ears. It was clear that he had heard her before, her shields not strong enough. She took a moment before she responded. 

“One might say it’s rude to eavesdrop on a host.”

“I suppose you would be right if your thoughts weren’t so loud. Even so, I am interested in what you think I can help you with.”

She could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. She met his eyes with that same evaluating stare.  Miryam and Drakon had told her that he was one of their closest friends, someone they both trusted. Even so, it was hard to grapple with admitting her failure at mastering her daemati skills. She was about to reply when Miryam interrupted, “Would you two like to share what you are speaking about.” 

Astrid sat there, her eyes burning into Rhysand’s, waiting for him to reply. “I was just asking Astrid what she needs help with. Her thoughts are rather loud.” There it was. The High Lord didn’t take to sugarcoating things, she supposed. She looked towards Miryam and Drakon, eyes pleading for some help. There was a pregnant pause where no one said anything. Astrid let out a sigh. 

“In terms of being half High Fae and half Seraphim, my powers are quite…,” she paused. Astrid didn’t have the words to describe what her powers had become. Everything was so simple till about twenty years ago. “Unique,” she finished. Glancing towards Drakon, her eyes pleading for some assistance. She had no clue how to continue this conversation or express to Rhysand something that she didn’t understand herself. Thankfully, Miryam watched her scramble that pathetic excuse of an explanation and stepped in. 

“Astrid’s power is something we don’t have any answers for either. Her powers changed a few decades ago. She’s mostly mastered her powers, but her daemati ability has been cumbersome for her.” Rhysand glanced at her as if urging her to pick up where Miryam left off. 

“I can enter and leave minds rather easily. I can shield my thoughts,” a small chuckle left Rhysand. She glared at him before she continued, “Most of the time, but I’ve started to feel the emotions of those around me. The part I am struggling with is that I can’t figure out how to shut them out.” Astrid’s eyes fell on the potatoes on her plate, and she didn’t want to see Rhysand’s reaction to her admission and her failure. 

“What other powers do you have exactly?” Astrid didn’t miss the curiosity in Rhysand’s tone and how he offered no advice on the matter.

“Besides being a daemati, ice and winnowing,” she replied. The High Lord seemed to enjoy the news like he almost found her entertaining. Miryam then launched into an explanation for the first time Astrid accidentally slipped into her mind. A slight cough tore her gaze from the High Lord. Drakon’s eyes slid to hers, his fingers touching his brow. Message received. With a soft tap on Drakon's walls, she was in.

“You could be of assistance to them. Your powers are growing every day. We all feel it. If you were to train under Rhysand, you might be able to help in some way.”

Astrid tried to keep her face neutral at Drakon’s suggestion. She would have to leave Cretea and go to those courts her mind often wondered about. She pondered his comment for a moment.   

“I’m not sure I’m what Rhysand desires to help his mate. And I am no healer, so what assistance could I provide?” She replied, raising her eyebrows at the prince.

“Rhysand’s court is made up of…what was that word you used? Unique. His court is made up of uniquely powerful individuals. If there was any place that could help you and tell you more about your powers, it would be there.”  Astrid bit her lip as she pondered the thought before nodding her head.

“Rhys, its important for you to know that Astrid is one of our best soldiers, stronger and faster than any of her peers. She could be of assistance in training others or at least another set of eyes to help research Feyre’s condition while Astrid trains and looks into answers of her own.”

  Drakon’s words were still echoing in Astrids mind as she turned toward the High Lord. He was already looking at her, more like weighing her, seeing if she was, in fact, worth the risk of bringing her around his pregnant mate. She would normally say he was being an overprotective territorial bat because of the gaze he had on her. But given his mate’s current predicament, Astrid understood the worry of bringing an unknown variable like her around. She would be a distraction more than she would be of help. His eyes moved from her eyes up to the diadem on top of her head, he raised a brow as he examined it. Despite herself, Astrid wanted to impress him, and ease the anxiety that she felt boiling beneath Rhysand’s surface. With a feather-like touch, Astrid brushed against the walls of the High Lord’s mind for a second time. His eyes snapped back to hers. She only answered with another feather-light touch to his mind. 

“I understand your hesitation, Rhys. I would not fault you for declining. Feyre’s health is more important and it should. I would be happy to stay here and do more research for anything that could help…and when Feyre does survive labor, we can reevaluate.” With a small smile towards the High Lord, she retreated from his mind. 

      The High Lord regarded her for another heartbeat and then simply nodded. Despite herself, Astrid felt something profound within her deflate.

»»————-　✼　————-««

@rcarbo1 @annamariereads16

[valkyrie138]

new chapter tonight 👀👀👀

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 1

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: This is an 18+ series, angst, canon-type violence, murder, torture, smut, fluff, etc.

Note: Please be kind. This is my first time writing in a really long time, but I'm always open to constructive criticism. Also, if anyone wants to be an editor, send me a message!

Word Count: 2.3k

Next

»»————-　✼　————-««

Astrid loved this view of Cretea. Lately, it had become her favorite place on the island. She’d often spend her nights atop the Brightwater Palace, the home of Prince Drakon and Lady Miryam. The palace sat atop the most prominent hill on the island, the stone pillars tall enough that they seemed to touch the stars. She loved this view and how she could observe her home below in almost its entirety. Astrid watched as a half-fae left a tavern with flushed cheeks, their human partner struggling to hold them up. The young seraphim wondered how the couple met. Was it stolen looks in a tavern, or did they find comfort in one another after the war? Astrid sighed as her eyes continued to scan the city below her. She missed the nights when she was red-cheeked and giggling with Lucy and Kendra while they stumbled home. But sitting up here and making up stories of those she observed seemed interesting enough. Her eyes drifted through the island streets to the glittering Erythrian sea surrounding them. A small smile crept onto her rosy lips. She really did love this view. The sound of a person landing was what tour her eyes away from it. 

“They really should put a plaque here.” 

“Whatever for, Kendra?” Astrid drawled, looking at her sister-in-arms. Kendra, with sharp green eyes and auburn hair, was the captain of the Seraphim aerial legion. 

“So they can cement this as your spot, obviously. Your ass has made an imprint in the stone. That, at least, deserves a plaque,” Kendra was also a smart ass.

“I’ll make sure to tell Drakon and Miryam that you think my ass deserves such an honor,” she quipped before turning her gaze back to the city. Kendra moved to sit beside her, her feet dangling over the edge. 

“I’m heading to the taverns tonight. Would you like to join me?”

There would be so many people, so many thoughts, so many memories, and so many emotions. Astrid's chest tightened at the thought. She sighed, “Not tonight.” She could feel Kendra’s disappointment wash over her. The captain stared at her for a while, her face contemplative. “Have you told Miryam and Drakon that you’re struggling? If anyone could help, it would be them.”

Astrid, hearing the question, sucked in a breath. There was no real point in trying to lie to Kendra. Astrid may have the daemati power, but Kendra always knew what she was thinking. A small part of Astrid wished she could go back in time and take back that drunk confession from a few moons ago. The moment she told Kendra that this new daemati ability controlled her more than she could control it, Astrid knew Kendra would be on top of her to fix it. 

“No,” Astrid confessed. “Miryam suspects something is going on, though. I’m staying at the palace tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll ask.”

Astrid’s eyes lingered on the Cretea for another moment; she loved this island. But her eyes drifted to the other side of the palace, which looked out across a dark sea. Her mind often wondered what was happening across those blue waves. She had only left Cretea once, and it was to fight in the war against Hybern. No one on the island knew what was happening in Pyrthian for the past 52 years. Astrid felt that growing pain in her chest again, the warm air suddenly feeling like a small fire in her throat. The war had a cost, and the carnage still plagued her nightmares. But she still wondered what was happening in those faraway courts.

“I wonder what she’s doing, too,” whispered Kendra. She meant Lucy, the missing piece of their trio. The pain in Astrid's chest deepened, her heart aching. Lucy had lost her wings during the battle. Astrid was there when it happened,  saw the Hybern soldier shoot her out of the sky, and heard Lucy’s screams as she fell. The memory played in her mind on a loop, and her guilt festered somewhere deep within her. After the battle, Lucy decided to stay in Prythian and start a new life. Neither Astrid nor Kendra had heard from her since. Remembering Kendra’s comment, Astrid only replied with a slight nod. 

“Maybe the High Lord will know,” Kendra added. 

“I do hear that he has eyes everywhere,” Astrid noted. The High Lord of the Night Court would be coming to the palace tomorrow for what she didn’t know. Kendra stood up slowly, wiping her pants lightly. 

“If you aren’t joining me at the taverns tonight, at least get some sleep. You look positively dead,” the captain quipped. 

“You really do know how to flatter me,” Astrid replied, a smirk spread across her face. 

Kendra flew off with a wave over her shoulder. She watched as her friend flew above the streets and disappeared from view. Astrid’s eyes swept across Cretea, the rolling seas, and then settled on the stars above her. On clear nights, she used to sit on the roof of her family's home with her father, counting the stars, finding constellations, and listening to her father tell the stories behind them. She wondered if he was up there, along with her mother and sisters, watching over her. She wondered if they were proud of the female she had become. She felt the fissure deepen in her chest, full of ice and unyielding. She sharply swallowed the feeling, pushing it down, down, down. She couldn’t afford that cracking, the breaking. With a sigh, Astrid reached her arms to the sky as she stretched her back, her white wings fluttering behind her with relief. The hours spent sitting on the stone edge of the palace did nothing for her sore back. Astrid took one last longing look at the sea and the stars as she stood before gazing at Cretea below and flying home. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

The nightmares had plagued Astrid again that night. She awoke struggling to breathe, and ice covered her room, the temperature far below normal. She almost flung herself off the balcony in her room while trying to gulp down fresh air. Her dreams were full of the deaths of her family, and of her fellow soldiers she lost in the war. Their cries still felt like they were still echoing in her ears. The young seraphim stood examining her reflection. Her moon-white hair was pulled back high on her head, with intricate braids starting at her temples. Her midnight-blue eyes were stark against her hair and milk-colored skin. Her eyes drifted to her leathers. She probably should have worn a dress for the meeting with the High Lord, but her nightmares had left her feeling uneasy, the grip on her power slippery. The supple grey leather provided her a comfort that no court dress would. A knock on her door made her tear her eyes from the mirror.

“Come in, Dalia,” she said, turning toward the door. Dalia was a half-fae, half-seraphim like herself, who was well over half a century old but would never confirm her age. She was also positively senile.

“Astrid, you couldn’t have deigned to wear a dress today!” The old female exclaimed as she set down a tray of pastries. Most would take Dalia’s tone toward Astrid as rude. But the seraphim knew how the old hag felt about her. Astrid loved her; she was like an overbearing grandmother, with her braided grey hair and small, frail body. 

“You know I just like being prepared for anything,” Astrid winked at her as she continued, “I’m guessing the bat is about to land on our shores.” 

Dalia rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, “You should mind your tongue. He should be arriving soon, and I pray to the mother that you don’t converse this way with the High Lord.” 

 Astrid smiled at the old female, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, Dalia, I only reserve this way of conversation with you.” 

“You are going to send me to an early grave,” Dalia quipped as she sat before the fireplace.

“I keep you young, old hag.” Another knock sounded on her door. The smell of sea and hydrangea wafted in Astrid’s nose, “Come in, Miryam.” 

The dark-haired lady slipped through the door, her sage green eyes immediately falling on Astrid.

“I’ll have to tell Drakon he owes me thirty gold marks. I knew you would wear your leathers today.” She smirked as she crossed the room to sit across from Dalia, picking up a pastry as she sat. 

“I told her she should have worn a dress today,” replied the ancient female as she stood. “Now, I will see you later, and please remember to watch your tongue around the High Lord." With that, Dalia slipped from the room. Astrid could feel Miryam's emotions shift from ease to concern. With a small sigh, she sat beside the princess, her palms sweating. 

��I brought you something,” Miryam said as she pulled a rectangular jewelry box from behind her back. Astrid took it from her before resting it on her lap. The red velvet was smooth beneath her fingertips. Lifting the lid, a lump formed in her throat. In the box was a silver warrior’s diadem; it had carvings of feathers and wings sprouted near where it would meet her ears and a large sapphire shaped like a teardrop in the middle. The lump seemed to grow in her throat, an ache beginning to form in her chest, her eyes burning. 

“This was my mother's,” Astrid croaked. 

“It was always going to go to one of you,” Miryam paused while Astrid tried to shove this feeling of despair down till she couldn’t feel anymore. This diadem was going to go to one of her sisters, not her, if they hadn’t been murdered. If she hadn’t- “your mother would want you to have it.” Miryam finished as she delicately picked up the finery and placed it on Astrid’s head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; the circlet was the most ornate thing she had ever worn. 

“You look so much like her,” Miryam smiled at her. “She and your father would be proud to see that on you.” She supposed they would. The circlet had been her mother's, but instead of a stone of sapphire, her mother's was emerald green. Her mother was a high fae from the Winter Court before the war, where she met her father. After coming to Cretea, her mother was Miryam's hand, which meant she was officially part of the royal court. Her parents would be proud if they were still alive. The burning in her chest only seemed to grow at the idea. She shouldn’t be the one wearing it; her parents should still be here, and her sisters should be too, and it was her fault they weren’t. Her skin began to tingle, her throat dry and hot. Astrid quickly took the circlet off her head, its weight feeling too much. 

“Astrid?” She looked at the princess. Miryam’s eyes were wide, and her feeling of worry was closing in on her. “We might not be blood, but you are part of this family. Whatever is going on in that mind of yours…let me help.” Her voice was soft and empathetic as if she were speaking to a skittish deer.

Astrid gulped. The knot in her throat slid down to her stomach, heavily nestling itself there. “I’ve been…struggling.” She couldn’t meet Miryam's eyes as she said it, the dread of admitting she didn’t have a handle on her power. She didn’t know how the princess would even be able to help, but she continued, “I can handle getting into other's minds and shutting them out, most of the time, but” she paused, trying to find the words, “I can feel everyone's emotions all the time, I can’t escape them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shut them out. It’s honestly…suffocating. And it sometimes just becomes too much to control at once.” 

Miryam didn’t say anything at first, just grabbing the circlet from Astrid's hands and placing it back on her head. Light green eyes stared at her as a wave of reassurance and determination washed over her. 

“The High Lord, Rhysand, you know he is a close friend. One of the few who knew this island existed before Hybern. He’s a very powerful daemati, and so is his mate. If you're comfortable, we can ask him for some assistance during dinner.” 

Astrid sucked in a deep breath. It would be embarrassing to admit to a High Lord that she couldn’t master this dumb power, and not many were privy to the knowledge of Astrid’s powers. It was unusual for fae to gain new powers as they aged. The seraphim was young in fae terms, only seventy-six, but her power was growing and expanding to levels even the oldest fae on Cretea weren’t familiar with. She had spent hours in Cretea’s library with their oldest scholars, trying to find answers. Still, because her people found refuge here, their libraries were considerably less dense than those in Prythian. Since the war, her daemati abilities have grown to feel others' emotions. And after the war, none of the feelings were good. These past months, she had found herself drowning in it, the sorrows of those around her suffocating her. After a while, she stayed in her townhouse, never leaving unless going to the palace. She knew she couldn’t live like this forever; Astrid only nodded in response before she felt a slight panic snake around her chest, a foreign feeling, not her own or Miryam’s. 

           “I believe the High Lord is here,” Astrid replied, knowing the time for this conversation was over. Miryam only gave her a soft smile of reassurance before taking hold of her hand. Together, they walked down Brightwater Palace halls, the seafoam-marbled floors and tall white pillars surrounding them. Standing at the home entrance was one of the most handsome man Astrid had ever seen. 

[valkyrie138]

help pls

hello!! I am currently looking for an editor to help me with this Azriel x oc piece I am working on. I haven't written a fanfiction or anything of the sort in forever and it would be great to have feedback!! Message me if you're interested :)