Fanart by mftfernandez on Instagram

Request: “(Y/N) is Rhys’ sister/Azriel’s mate and she barely survives the attack from Tamlin’s family and her wings have been taken from her and it’s just Azriel’s reaction to it and him helping her”

Tags:@milllionthingsihaventdone​@akingdomofswordsandstories​

Warnings: gore, death, reader getting her wings cut off and almost dying, swearing

Word Count: 3,000

A/N: Always a pleasure to write for Az. This one’s a bit darker, definitely labeled angst for a reason. Has a fluffy ending though! <3

It was the middle of the night when they attacked.

You and your mother had never been sound sleepers, and since it was just the two of you traveling on foot to meet your brother, you’d decided to continue walking into the night.

You reached the place you’d planned to meet at before him, but that wasn’t a surprise. Rhys was many things, but timely wasn’t typically one of them (unless your father was involved). So you’d set a fire and hunkered down to wait, knowing you could be there anywhere from half an hour to half a day.

You were humming softly, admiring the view of the river in the moonlight, the silvery mist rolling up onto the banks. It was beautiful, but almost ominous. 

You had heard a twig snap somewhere in the forest behind you. You should have been more alert.

It took them all of thirty seconds to have you beaten and tied up, backs pressed tightly against the bark of trees and rope pricking your skin. You weren’t weak, not by any means. Your father had insisted you had proper training, that you knew how to fight, but there were so many of them.

You recognized the High Lord of the Spring Court and his many sons. In fact, you knew them. You’d even found one or two of the younger fae attractive at different points of the last century, though all that was irrelevant now. The unsheathed weapons in their hands confirmed your deepest fears.

“Your son, he was supposed to be here?” the High Lord asked. Neither of you said anything. Your focus was entirely on the determined and almost amused looks on the faces of the Spring Court nobility, the sneer their father wore, and the slight shake of your mother’s hand holding yours.

“Will he be joining us soon?” he tried again. You shrugged, trying to seem less terrified than you were.

“He’s not a timely sort,” you said, as nonchalantly as possible. As if you weren’t bound to a tree in the middle of the woods. “It’s a possibility.”

The High Lord snickered. “That’s a real shame. We were hoping he’d be here to join in on the fun.”

“You’re sick,” your mother whispered, voice shaky. You gave your mother’s hand a squeeze.

“Where is Rhysand now?”

“Why would I tell you that?” she spat incredulously.

“Because,” he drawled, gazing lustfully at his knife, “perhaps I’ll spare your lives if you do.”

You gasped, your mother tensing up beside you.

“You know what will happen to you if you kill us,” she said menacingly. “What Rhys will do, what my mate will do.”

“Pity that I don’t care,” he grinned. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Please,” you whispered, tears beginning to spill out of your eyes. “Please.”

You could’ve sworn you saw a look of pity flash over some of their faces, but the High Lord only laughed. “Seize them.”

What happened next was a blur - the ropes were slashed and you were grabbed by two of the sons, pulled away from each other to opposite ends of the grove. Forced to kneel and watch by the light of the fire as the High Lord carved your mother’s wings off her back, screaming and thrashing and pleading up until the moment he sliced her head off at the neck.

You watched her body loll over to the side, her head - still bearing the comforting look she’d tried to give you in her last moments - feet away on the ground, eyes dull, next to her wings. You collapsed against the son who’d been holding you back, fell to your knees on the ground defeated.

There was no use in fighting back, you realized, as the High Lord turned to face you. Your mother’s blood was painted over him. There was no way for you to escape.

Winnow.

Your eyes widened, your mother’s voice clear as day in your head.

Winnow away.

From your place on the ground you could see the High Lord’s boots coming closer. You began to panic - you’d never winnowed before. That was Rhys’s thing, and you’d never bothered the practice.

You felt a hand grab the back of your tunic and pull you up, dragging you across the clearing towards your mother’s decapitated corpse.

You felt your stomach churn as he threw you down in front of the same stump he’d just used as a chopping block. He placed his palm on your back and pushed you flush against it, easily overpowering you as you struggled against it.

“Please,” you gasped, begging him to stop, begging the Cauldron to give you the strength to winnow just this once. “Please, please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut furiously, picturing the camp down the river, the camp where Rhys probably was right now. And your father. And maybe Cassian and Azriel.

Your family. You just wanted to see your family.

And then there was pain. Searing pain, at that sensitive, delicate point where your wings sprouted from your back. You screamed. Your wings, the bastard was taking your wings.

A great weight fell off the side of you, and you tipped over, overwhelmed with the imbalance of just one wing and the feeling of blood spilling down your back. A second hand reached out to grab your shoulder and pull you back up. You gritted your teeth.

Winnow away, winnow away.

Pain again, and more screaming, and another great loss. You collapsed against the stump in front of you, and threw up. One of them laughed, but you were too light headed to tell which one of them it was.

They were talking. Your head spun, trying to make out what they were saying.

“Maybe we shouldn’t kill her.”

“We could ask for a ransom, she’s already too weak to try and escape.”

“She’s seen too much for that.”

Rhys, you thought. Rhys, my father, Cassian, Azriel. Azriel.

The picture of the camp in your mind was bright. Please, you begged wordlessly. Please, I need to go there.

And when the High Lord turned towards where you’d been to finish the job, you were gone.

— — —

When you woke up, it was morning. You could hear the birds before you even opened your eyes, recognized the soft songs they only sang before the rest of the world was awake.

The second thing you noticed was the dull throb of your back pressed completely against the mattress under you. No wings. Your stomach dropped.

Rhys and Azriel were sitting on crates next to your bed. Your eyes had been open for maybe five seconds before they were up, rushing to crouch next to you.

“(Y/n),” Rhys started, voice full of emotion. He grabbed your hand, and you could feel him shaking.

“Rhys,” you croaked, squeezing his hand. “I sound fucking awful.”

The two of them laughed, maybe the saddest laugh you’d ever heard, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Do…do you remember what happened?” Rhys asked, voice trailing off. You grimaced and nodded, the memories of your mother’s body and the High Lord’s sneer burning in your mind.

“I remember all of it.”

You watched Azriel’s face fall, watch the conflict in his eyes as he looked over you and finally rested his hand softly on top of your high, thumb rubbing small circles against the blanket. His shadows followed suit, twisting around your legs in slow patterns. You found it oddly soothing, watching them weave between each other like little wisps of smoke.

“Where’s dad?” you asked, drawing your attention from Az and his shadows to Rhys. It was then you noticed the bandage on his forehead, the bruises on his forearms. Rhys hung his head.

“After you winnowed here, and after we made sure you were going to live through the night, we went to find mom.” He let out a shaky breath, whole body tense as if reliving whatever hell he also experienced that night. You noticed Azriel grab his shoulder with his free hand, supporting your brother as he tried to calm down.

“And then we went to the Spring Court. Dad and I killed all of them, all of them except Tamlin.” He paused. “And then Tamlin killed dad.”

You let out a choked sob, looking up at the ceiling defeatedly. Azriel’s hand on your thigh stilled, and then gave you a soft squeeze.

“It was all Tamlin,” Rhys continued softly. “Tamlin told his dad where to find you. Tamlin killed mom, killed dad-”

“And he almost killed me,” you finished, blinking back tears. You pushed yourself up slowly, sitting on the bed while Rhysand and Azriel watched you carefully. You went to stretch, to stretch your wings, the first thing you always did when you got up out of bed, but they weren’t there. You let out a strangled sob, and Rhys and Az jumped up.

“(Y/n), what is it?” your brother asked, resting a hand on your lower back tentatively.

“Rhys,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Rhys, he took my wings.”

And then you cried. Cried for your parents, for your wings. Rhys was sitting next to you in an instant, one hand still on your back and the other holding yours, whispering to you that it would all be okay. And Azriel was on your other side, cradling your shoulders in his hands as you hunched forward and sobbed until you couldn’t anymore. 

The sobs turned to muffled crying, to whimpers, to sniffles, and then you were resting your head against Azriel’s chest, breathing thickly, him and Rhys each holding one of your hands.

“We’re orphans now,” you said bluntly. “What the fuck.”

Rhys let out a singular dry laugh and shook his head.

“And you’re High Lord!” you continued, looking at him incredulously. “Terrible circumstances, but congrats. Hope you don’t fuck up too badly.”

“Thank you for that, really,” Rhys said sarcastically. You could feel Azriel laughing silently against you.

“What’s your first like, decree, going to be?” you asked curiously.

“I’ve already made it,” he replied. “Guess what it is.”
“Monetary reward for Tamlin’s dead body,” you said. Rhys shook his head.

“A ban on wing clipping,” he said softly. You gasped, tears pricking your eyes.

“Rhys-”

“Followed by a temporary ban on trading with the Spring Court.”

“Mom would’ve loved that,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. He gave you a tight-lipped grin and nodded.

“It’ll take a while to get all the different camps to accept it, and I’m sure it’ll never be stopped completely, but-”

“It’s a start,” you finished. “And a damn good start at that.”

“Thank you,” Rhys said, pushing himself off the bed quietly. Azriel helped you move so that you were sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs dangling off the side.

“How long will the trading ban last?” you inquired. Rhys shrugged.

“A while,” he said. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“At least ten years,” you said with a small grin. Azriel chuckled from behind you, the sound deep and warm. Rhys gave you an odd look.

“I was thinking more like a century or two, but yea, at least ten years,” he said. He looked at the entrance to the tent and back at you regretfully.
“I don’t want to leave, but I-”
“You have your fancy High Lord business now,” you said, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Go, be free.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said quietly.

“Don’t make me get emotional,” you warned. He chuckled.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“Love you, too,” you replied, giving him a small wave as he exited. You looked up at Az, his arm now wrapped delicately around your midsection to help support you. His other hand was resting lightly on your knee.

“Thank you, Az,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

“Of course.”

You relished in the soft rumble of his chest as he spoke, grinning as his shadows began to circle in front of you.

“Do you ever name them?” you asked softly.

“What?” he asked, looking down at you curiously. You gave him a sheepish smile.

“The shadows,” you clarified. He grinned, and your heart skipped a beat.

“No,” he said, “but I can tell them apart sometimes. It’s almost like they have their own personalities, if that makes sense.”

You nodded, shifting against him slightly and wincing. You felt him tense up.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, lifting his hand off your knee slowly as if to brace you, then dropping it again. “Is there anything I can do?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m doing alright considering,” you said. “I mean, at least I’m not dead.”

Silence from Azriel. You sighed.

“Not that this situation is ideal, either,” you continued. Azriel’s grip on you tightened.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said finally, his voice shaking slightly with an emotion you couldn’t identify. “I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“Az-”

“It’s not fair.” His voice was a deadly whisper.

“It’ll be okay,” you said soothingly, reaching out for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll be okay.”

Another pause. The two wounds in your back throbbed, the empty space hurting you more than any amount of pain.

“Azriel, it hurt so bad,” you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as he wrapped an arm under your knees and lifted you into his lap.

He hugged you then, perhaps for the first time ever, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Oh Az,” you sniffled, “there was nothing you could’ve done. The only other person who knew we were there was Rhys, and I don’t blame him.”

“Still-”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “But thank you.”
He nodded. “I’m still sorry it happened.” A whisper.

“It just-” you trailed off, trying to put into words what you were feeling. “It’s so weird, you know? My whole life I’ve had this weight on my back, that was just a part of me, and now it’s gone and I feel so light and empty at the same time.”

Azriel nodded, continuing to rub your back carefully, avoiding the bandages covering your cuts.

“They took a part of you,” he said finally, “but only one. And you, your kindness, the way you can light up any room you’re in, none of that came from your wings. You still have everything that makes you, you.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes and squeezed him a little tighter in your arms. “Az, thank you.”

Azriel rested his head against the side of yours, pulled you into him just a little bit more.

There was something he still wanted to say, you could feel it in the air around you. You were just about to ask him what he was thinking when he began to speak.

“(Y/n),” he said, nerves seeping into his voice, “there’s something I need to tell you, about when you winnowed to camp and we found you.”

“We?” you asked, pulling back to look at him curiously. He nodded.

“Rhys and I,” he clarified. “He was just leaving to meet up with you and…and then you just appeared, in the distance, and dropped to the ground.” His nostrils flared and he glanced downwards. “You were unconscious by the time we got to you, but Rhys ran to get the healers and I carried you here, and…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked up at you hesitantly. You urged him to continue.

“And when they had you in that bed, I couldn’t leave.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and you grabbed his hands to give them a comforting squeeze. “You looked so small, and helpless, and they told me I could go and that they’d call me when they were done stitching you up, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone.”

He bit his lip, as if debating whether or not to keep going.

“Azriel,” you said softly, still holding his hands. “Say it. Whatever it is.” He glanced up at you and nodded.

“Something clicked, when you were lying here and they told us you were going to live.”

Your breath hitched, realizing what he meant. Azriel breathed deeply, then looked you straight in the eyes.

“(Y/n), you’re my mate.”

And as you truly looked back into his eyes for the first time since waking up, you felt something snap into place within yourself. Your eyes widened, and suddenly all you could feel and think about was him.

“Azriel,” you breathed, clutching his hands tighter. He perked up instantly, face hopeful as he reached up and cradled your face in his hands delicately.

“(Y/n)-”

“Holy fuck,” you breathed incredulously, giving him a small grin, “you’re my mate.”

“And…and you’re okay with that?” he asked cautiously, gaze boring into yours as you leaned closer to him.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart racing. “Yes.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, gently kissing you as he moved one hand to the back of your head, holding you gently as he trailed the other down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his back, ignoring the painful sting of your back that seemed absolutely unimportant compared to kissing Azriel, and pulled yourself closer to him.

He moaned softly as your fingertip brushed against his wing and your heart lurched, dizzy at the surge of feelings that washed over you.

You pulled back and laughed once, smiling as he tilted his head and gave you a lopsided grin.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours gently.

“I’m just realizing I have no clue how to cook anything,” you giggled, shaking your head against his as he began to laugh with you.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he rasped, moving forward to capture your lips with his once again.

Fanart by LadyCamafeo on DeviantArt

Request: “angst to smut and then fluff” - Reader is a healer working for the Inner Circle, convinced that Azriel doesn’t like her.

Tags:@lillysugarsxx

Warnings:smut!!!! don’t read if you aren’t 18! also angst

Word Count: 6,000 (sorry)

A/N: Here’s another Azriel one! Sorry it took me about a week to write, I’m not amazing at writing smut and didn’t want it to be horrendous. I have a few more Azriel fics to write that people have requested, as well as one about Cassian! Feel free to request other stuff, but know it might take me a little longer to write it. I hope you enjoy! :)

Your father worked as an apothecary in Velaris, running a small shop to sell medicines and offer treatment when needed. You’d helped him ever since you were little - stocking supplies and bandaging small injuries. Over time, you developed a genuine interest in medicine and the chemistry behind it, working with your father as he developed new treatments for the common illnesses and ailments in the City of Starlight.

One night while your father was out on a house call, the High Lord of the Night Court himself had winnowed into your house after a mission had gone awry. He’d been seeking your father’s medical attention, of course, but he wouldn’t be home for hours, leaving you to tend to Rhysand’s wounds as he collapsed on your kitchen floor. While cleaning out a large cut on his arm you’d realized he’d been poisoned somehow, his skin far too pale for the minimal amount of blood he’d lost, his veins a startling shade of green. Despite your panic you’d been able to find a suitable antidote to the poison, calming down only when his complexion returned to normal. You wrapped his wounds, dragged him onto your couch, and called it a night.

In the morning, he’d been shocked that you’d been able to heal him, explaining he’d been struck by a poisoned arrow in a remote part of the Night Court. Apparently the poison was quite obscure, and Rhysand had praised you for what he deemed was “superior medical knowledge.”

You’d chalked it all up to a lucky guess, and after a once-over from your father you sent the High Lord on his merry way. A week later, he returned and offered you a job as a healer in the House of Wind.

You’d been hesitant to accept - you didn’t want to leave your father to run the shop alone - but at the end of the day, Rhys paid you more, allowing you to buy more supplies and medicines for your father to use. Plus, the library in the House of Wind was humongous, and you’d be able to learn more about medicine and healing there.

In the end, you’d taken the job, getting a better paycheck and the best friends in the whole world at the same time.

The Inner Circle was more than a family, and they’d welcomed you into their lives as if they’d known you for centuries. Rhys and Amren dedicated themselves to furthering your education, with Rhys frequently leaving new books outside your door and Amren inviting you over to her apartment to study. Cassian had convinced you to let him teach you self-defense, and Mor brought you with her to Rita’s almost every weekend.

There was, however, one member of the Inner Circle who hardly acknowledged your presence. After years of living in the House of Wind, you were confident Azriel hated you.

What other explanation could there possibly have been for the way he treated you? He hardly talked to you unless it was necessary, giving you answers and replies that hardly qualified as sentences. And you didn’t miss the looks he gave you during dinners and meetings that, in your opinion, were borderlining on glares.

What really sucked was how badly you wanted to be his friend. On the rare occasions you saw him smile or even laugh, you wanted nothing more to make him as happy as the other members of the Inner Circle did. But deep down you knew that would never happen; he simply wanted nothing to do with you, and that hurt.

But you ignored it, ignored his side-eyes and curt answers and obvious dislike of you. You understood it, you were a stranger who started living in his house and joined his centuries-old friend group. So you pushed all your own feelings aside and pretended that being in the same room as him didn’t spike your anxiety.

The most you’d ever done was ask Mor about it on your way to Rita’s one night. She’d dismissed you with a laugh and a wave of her hand: He’s just quiet, she said. But why did it feel so much more personal than that?

You didn’t want to cause any more trouble than you clearly already had, so you stayed out of his way, only asking him for anything when absolutely necessary.

But as months and then years went by, the anxiety he gave you only worsened. You’d stopped going to their weekly dinners, electing to stay up in your room or visit your father, and only attended meetings when your presence was necessary. Amren had asked you once if everything was okay, but you’d plastered a happy smile on your face and assured her you were just busy. You knew she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t pry.

What really sucked was that you’d stopped going to the library to avoid Azriel. It was one of your favorite places in the House of Wind, though apparently also one of his, considering he was almost always there when you were. Rhys brought you enough books for it not to matter much, but it wasn’t the same as reading in the library’s cozy chairs. You would move them near the windows, admiring the view of Velaris whenever you put your book down. Your room did not match the library’s aesthetic at all, but you were not willing to subject yourself to Azriel’s unfriendliness.

You still trained with Cassian once or twice a week, still visited Amren occasionally, still went out with Morrigan most weekends. But other than those few hours with your friends, other than the weekly trips down to your father, you kept to yourself.

You mostly stayed on your floor, studying on your balcony or in the sitting room a few doors down. Some nights, after everyone had gone to sleep, you’d creep down to the kitchen and read while you made yourself a midnight snack.

That was how you’d chosen to spend tonight, your books and notes laid out across the table while you stood in front of the stove, waiting patiently for the kettle to boil. You’d decided to make yourself tea, picking out a nice herbal variety so that you wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping when you decided to go to bed. You were humming to yourself softly, studying the designs on the mug you’d chosen, when you heard a small rustling behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Azriel sitting at the table, head propped up on his hand as he read a page of your notes.

He glanced up at you, your eyes meeting briefly, and you turned back to the stove. Perhaps you were having visions? You turned around again…

Alas, he was still there. Not a vision, you decided.

You bit your lip, looking between him and the kettle as your pulse quickened.

“Would you, uh, like some?” you asked, gesturing to the now boiling kettle and hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the slight shake in your voice.

He gave you a slight nod.

“There’s, um, black tea,” you offered, grabbing another mug from the cabinet above you. “But that’s caffeinated so you might stay up for a while if you drink that. I’m having herbal tea which doesn’t do that as much…there’s also green tea.” Your voice trailed off as you picked up the kettle, giving Azriel a cautious glance.

He shrugged. “I don’t know much about tea.”

“Okay!” you said rather shrilly, Azriel jumping a little in his seat. You pretended not to notice, focusing instead on pouring water into the two mugs on the counter. Your brows furrowed in concentration, yelping a bit as a bit of the boiling water spilled onto the counter.

You heard Azriel move in the chair behind you but held your other hand out to stop him.

“It’s good, I’m good,” you rambled nervously, setting the kettle down. You grabbed another tea bag and dropped it into his cup.

“You have to wait a bit before you drink it,” you explained, picking the two mugs up and turning towards the table. “It has to steep, and cool down.”

You set the two mugs on the table, pushing one over to him. He wrapped his hands around it slowly, as if afraid it might break.

You stared at your tea silently, hesitant to say anything else. This was the first time you’d been alone with Azriel in…weeks? Months?

Surprisingly, he was the one who broke the silence.

“Your notes are very detailed,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to the piece of paper he’d been reading before.

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, cheeks heating up a bit. “I spend a lot of time on them, maybe a bit too much.”

“The drawings are very realistic, I like them.” He brought the mug up to his lips and took a small sip. You gave him a small smile and glanced down at your hands.

“I haven’t seen you in the library in a while,” he continued.

You shrugged as if you had no idea. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Azriel asked incredulously. “Doing what, may I ask?”

You frowned at him. “I’ll have you know I do quite a lot around here. Rhys is having me modernize a bunch of old medical texts. That’s a lot of work.”

“Enough to justify you staying out of the library for two months?” he asked.

“Quit stalking me,” you muttered quietly, grip tightening around your mug.

“My job is to watch people, Y/N,” he said easily.

“To watch people who could be threats,” you clarified, sending him a pointed glare. “Which I am not.”

He just stared back at you, and you felt a stab of betrayal at his silence.

“You think I’m a threat?” you asked, hurt evident in your voice.

“I never said that,” he replied quickly, but you were already standing up from the table.

“You also didn’t say I wasn’t.” You began piling your books and notes together, him standing up as if to stop you.

“You’ve been distant for months,” he stated, grabbing your wrist. “Missing meetings, avoiding people.”

“And?” you hissed, pulling your hand out of his grip.

“I’ve noticed in my line of work that people tend to withdraw from others when they’re plotting something,” he said bluntly. You gasped, taking a step backwards from him as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“You think I’m plotting something?” you seethed, no longer trying to keep your voice down.

“What other reason would you have to elude all of us?” he asked.

“To avoid you, Azriel!” you shouted, stepping forward and slamming your hand on the table.

His eyes widened in surprise, mouth opening as you grabbed your stack of books.

“Why-”

“Do not think,” you interrupted, “that I haven’t realized how you’ve regarded me these past few years.” Your voice was steady despite how angry you were.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ohcome on,” you seethed. “You glare at me like I’m some lowlife at every meeting, every dinner, every time I see you in the library.”

“I don’t glare at you,” he said incredulously, giving you a confused look as you shook your head.

“Youdoglare,” you maintained. “And you don’t reply to me half the time, you’re the only person in this whole house who’s never gone out of their way to talk to me. But then again, you think I’m some scheming infiltrator, so that all makes sense now.”

“I don’t think that!” he yelled.

“You just accused me of plotting something!” you reminded him angrily. “I literally avoid you because I don’t want to make you hate me more than you already do and you think I’m planning some act of betrayal!”

He just stared at you, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Do you not care that I have spent every day of my time here terrified of upsetting you?” you shouted. But he remained silent.

And your whole facade crumbled.

“Do you not care?” you asked again, quietly, eyes widening as hurt replaced your anger. You let out a shaky breath, tears forming in your eyes, and turned towards the doorway.

“Y/N-” Azriel started, but you were already walking out of the room. He called after you again, and again. You did not turn around.

You were halfway up the stairs when you bumped into Rhys, tears spilling down your face as you let out a choked sob.

His eyes widened in shock. “Oh my gods, Y/N, what happened?”

You stepped back as he reached out to you, shaking your head at the confusion on his face.
“I can’t do this anymore, Rhys,” you rambled, voice shaking. “I can’t, not when he ignores me for years and then accuses me of fucking treason.”

“What? Who?” Rhys asked frantically, brows rising as Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs. You let out another sob, and then shook your head.

“I quit,” you managed between sobs. “I quit.”

And then you were racing up the stairs to your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing on the bed. You heard several different knocks, but you answered none. Instead, you gathered up all your things and shoved them into the bag you kept under your bed. You left the books Rhys had given you in a stack near the door, left the dress Mor had let you wear one weekend laid out on the bed.

Before the sun rose, you snuck out of your room, out of the house, and walked down the ten thousand stairs leading back to Velaris.

—-

You’d been away for a whole week, working long hours at your father’s shop and spending the remainder of the day asleep. It was easier to push aside your feelings that way, easier to throw yourself into work than think about how badly Azriel had hurt your feelings.

It was early one morning while you were bandaging a young child that Azriel had walked into the shop, glancing at you as he made his way over to the waiting area.

Your eyes widened in shock and then narrowed into a pointed glare, half of you wanting to curse him out and make him leave. But the other half of you knew that would terrify the child in front of you, so you took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on your face.

“That man looks scary,” they whispered to you, eyes wide with fear as they took in Azriel’s wings and the shadows that wrapped around him. Azriel turned towards you slightly, no doubt listening to your conversation.

“It’s wrong to judge others by their looks alone,” you murmured, tucking the ends of the bandage into place.

You glanced towards the front door as your father walked in, obviously struggling as he carried in a stack of supply crates.

“Good morning Y/N!”

Wordlessly, Azriel walked over to help him. You hadn’t told your father why you’d come back from the House of Wind, so his eyes lit up at the sight of the tall Illyrian.

“Ah, hello spymaster!” he greeted cheerily. “How can we help you today?”
“I came to talk to Y/N, actually,” Azriel replied carefully, sending a cautious look in your direction. “Where would you like me to put these?”

You scowled as your father directed Azriel into the backroom, pushing yourself up from where you’d been kneeling on the floor and patting your patient on the shoulder.

“You’re all set!” you smiled, helping the child out of the chair they’d been sitting in.

“Thank you!” they exclaimed, giving you a bright smile and prancing off towards the door.

“Be careful!” you called after them, walking over to the supply cabinet and returning the bandage roll to its drawer.

You stiffened as Azriel walked out of the storage room, watching out of the corner of your eye as he made his way over to you.

He stopped a few feet away, looking at you almost nervously.

“Yes?” you asked, turning your head to glare at him.

“I’ve come to apologize.” His voice was soft.

You laughed humorlessly. “Did Rhys force you to come?” You scoffed as Azriel nodded, rolling your eyes and turning to face the bookshelf by the window.

“I did want to apologize of my own accord,” Azriel replied quickly. You could hear his unease. “Rhys just…urged me to do so sooner rather than later.”

“Ah, does the mighty High Lord miss my presence? Did he think I’d be moved by your apology and want to come back?” you said sarcastically. Azriel looked down at the floor in front of him.

“Everyone, not just Rhys, misses you.” His voice was quiet. “And Cassian is convinced he’s going to get wounded during a mission and die because you won’t be there to fix him up. He keeps complaining about it, actually.”

You chuckled at that, the corners of Azriel’s mouth turning up slightly.

“I don’t want to beg you to return, but I will if I must,” Azriel continued. “Amren demanded I bring you back.”

You remained silent, weighing the options in your head.

“You can tell Amren I’ll be back tonight,” you said finally.

“I can bring you there now, if you want,” he offered. You shook your head.

“I’ll be there tonight,” you restated bluntly, grabbing a few pieces of parchment off the bookshelf and walking towards the backroom. You cast a dismissive glance back at him. “Goodbye, Azriel.”

Hours later, after you’d repacked your belongings and helped your father with his weekly shopping, you began the long trek up to the House of Wind.

If ten thousand steps going downhill was a challenge, ten thousand steps in the other direction was practically impossible. But you were too stubborn to accept help from Azriel, and too prideful to ask Rhys or Cassian either.

It was the middle of the night when you finally finished the climb and made your way into the large living room. Rhys was sitting on a large couch - obviously having stayed up waiting for you - and sent you a rather mean glare as you walked over towards him.

“I’ve been sitting here for hours,” he frowned.

“Hello to you too, gracious High Lord,” you feigned a bow, plopping yourself down in an armchair across from him. You groaned in exhaustion, reaching down to rub your sore leg muscles.

“You do realize Azriel could’ve flown you up, right?” Rhys asked bluntly, clearly unamused by your stunt.

“I don’t need his help,” you retorted, “nor do I want it.”

“I take it you haven’t accepted his apology?”

You shook your head. “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than some forced apology for me to forgive him.” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He really is sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” you retorted. “He all but accused me of treason, he’d better be fucking sorry.”

“Y/N-”

“Even before this whole accusation thing, he’s never been nice to me,” you interrupted, throwing your hands in the air. “That alone is hard to forgive, let alone suggesting I was plotting against you all.”

“Perhaps it’s time to turn over a new leaf,” Rhys suggested. You gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh, should I bake him cookies?” you suggested sarcastically. “Here you go Azriel, after years of treating me like crap, I’ve come bearing gifts in the name of friendship!”

Rhys groaned, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be his friend,” you huffed. “Do you know how jealous I am of all of you? You make him smile and laugh like it’s no big deal, meanwhile the only reactions I can get out of him are mean looks and psychological analyses.”

Rhysand gave you a curious look. “Jealous?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I want to be able to make him happy, too,” you admitted defeatedly. “That’s why I started avoiding him. I figured I just made him upset.”

“That’s not true!” Rhys insisted, but you shook your head.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, standing up and grabbing your bags from off the floor. Rhys just gave you a scandalized look as you made your way towards the stairs.

“You can’t just go to bed after saying something like that!” he called after you. “All of that was completely untrue, we have to unpack that!”

“Goodnight, oh mighty bat man!” you called back as you climbed up the staircase.

Rhys cast a sad glance at the far corner of the living room. You’d failed to notice the winged male standing in the shadows, a broken look on his face.

—-
You’d started reading in the library again.

Something about the whole last week and a half had given you a much needed reality check. You lived in this damn house, for crying out loud! You could read a book in the library if you wanted to.

And who were you to care about bothering Azriel? You scoffed just thinking about it - there was no use trying to tiptoe around him anymore.

It was raining outside. You were sitting at a table, reading a book about muscle healing techniques, when two scarred hands slammed down on the wooden surface in front of you.

You glanced up, furrowing your eyebrows at the rather angry look on Azriel’s face.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you asked rhetorically, redirecting your gaze to the book in your hands.

You shouted in protest when he pulled the book away from you. “Give that back!” you yelled, lunging across the table.

He took a step back, out of your reach. “Not until you explain…this.” He gestured towards you briefly.

“What the hell do you mean?” you asked incredulously, eye wide in confusion. “Give me my book back!”

“Why were you avoiding me?” he asked. You groaned.

“I didn’t want to bother you! Can you just give me my book back?” He shook his head, lips pursed together in thought.

“See, that’s where you’ve got me confused,” he said, hazel eyes fixed on you intently. “When did I ever give you that idea?”

“That I bother you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he nodded. “Oh, I don’t know Azriel, maybe all the times you’ve glared at me during meetings or given me half-assed answers when I asked for something?”

He glared at you, jaw clenching. You rolled your eyes and stuck out your hand.

“I answered your question, I want my book back.”

He shook his head. “I don’t glare at you. I’ve never glared at you.”

“You certainly don’t give me happy looks!” you retorted. “I’ve lived here for years and you’ve never once smiled at me or something I’ve said. I know I’m funny, everyone else likes my jokes!”

“Does that bother you?” he asked lowly.

“Of course it does!” you replied, eyes darting between his face and your book.

“Why?” he asked, hazel eyes boring into yours. You opened your mouth, then paused. You bit your lip, face heating up as you realized you didn’t have an answer. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know!” you stammered. “Azriel I just want my book back, I walked all the way up here yesterday and my legs are very sore, and I’m trying to figure out how to make them stop feeling like jelly…”

Azriel kept his gaze fixed on you as he moved around the table, looking far too predatory for your liking. You took a step back nervously as he approached you, then another, grimacing as your back hit one of the large marble columns holding up the ceiling.

“Why does it bother you?” he asked again, voice softer but even more intense.

“Would you back up a bit?” you hissed, heart pounding as he kept drawing nearer.

“Answer my question,” he growled, stopping right in front of you. He reached out and gripped the marble on both sides of you, effectively trapping you against the column.

You gulped, looking up at him and taking in his strong jawline, his darkened eyes.

“I don’t know!” you cried again. You pushed your hands against his toned chest, frowning when he did not budge. “Move!”

He chuckled lowly, and your eyes went wide.

You stammered for a second, giving him a confused look. “Did I make you laugh?”

“I wouldn’t consider that a whole laugh,” he said with a small smirk. “Maybe a half.” Your jaw dropped.

“What is happening?” you spluttered, frantically looking between his face and his hands and his damn smirk.

Gods, you could get used to a view like this.

“You don’t bother me,” he said finally, gazing down at you with glazed over eyes. “I don’t know where you got that idea.” You leaned your head back against the column, bewildered. “And I do laugh at your jokes.”

“I…I thought you didn’t pay any attention to me,” you clamored, mind spinning when he shook his head.

“On the contrary, Y/N, I pay too much attention to you,” he answered with a gorgeous grin. “Half the time I can’t keep myself from staring at you. Perhaps you’ve been mistaking those looks as glares.”

“That can’t be,” you whispered, brows knit together. “I thought…” You trailed off, speaking proving to be too difficult as you lost yourself in his eyes.

And then he was leaning down, your heart practically leaping out of your chest at the realization that hit you. He was leaning down…leaning…

“Azriel,” you whispered.

And then his lips were on yours, and all you wanted was him.

You pushed yourself up into him, mouths meeting in a heated battle as he moved his hands to cradle your face. You moaned, head reeling as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as he trailed a hand down to your hip.

You threw your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he slammed you back into the marble column. You moaned again, tilting your head up as he began exploring your neck with his mouth.

His name was like a chant on your lips, a cry leaving your mouth as he bit down on the skin between your neck and your shoulder. He growled, bringing a hand up to fondle one of your breasts.

“Azriel… Azriel please,” you begged, arching into his hand.

“What do you want?” he murmured, eyes dark as he watched you writhe against him.

You moaned loudly, the obscene noise echoing throughout the library.

“Touch me,” you managed, your core clenching as he groaned.

He whisked you away from the column, turning around and laying you on top of the table you’d been reading at minutes ago. You pulled him down on top of you, lips colliding in a sloppy mix of tongue and teeth. You didn’t care.

You trailed your hands down the broad expanse of his back, fingers brushing against the base of his wings. He shuddered against you, shadows tickling your skin sensually.

“Take this off,” you murmured, tugging at his shirt.

He was happy to oblige, pushing himself off you and pulling his shirt over his head. You groaned, trailing your hand down your body at the sight of him.

You grabbed at the laces that held the front of your dress together, undoing the knot as Azriel helped you shimmy out of it. He let out a wanton moan at the sight of your bare breasts, surging forward to capture one in his mouth and cupping the other in his hand.

You threw your head back, moaning as he made his way down from your breast to your stomach.

He looked up at you, hands gripping the fabric now bunched around your hips. You bit your lip and nodded, heat pooling in your stomach as Azriel slid the rest of the dress off of you. His eyes darkened at your body, displayed for him on top of the table.

“Let me just admire you for a moment,” he murmured, hand tracing a line from your navel to your thigh.

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers ghosted over the apex of your thighs. You were dripping.

“What do you want, darling?” Azriel drawled, grinning as you moaned loudly. “Use your words for me.”

“Please,” you panted as he dragged his hands down your sides, grinding desperately against nothing, relishing in the heat of his hands and the cold of his shadows.

“What do you want?” he whispered again, and you spread your legs.

“I want you here.”

He let out a strangled groan, dropped to his knees, and pressed his mouth against your aching core.

“Azriel!” you cried breathlessly, hips lurching as pleasure jolted up your spine. He snarled, throwing your legs over his shoulders. You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as he sucked your clit.

“Keep these still,” he growled, draping an arm over your hips and lowering his head again.

Your breath hitched as the coil in your center began to tighten, shaking legs clenched around the sides of Azriel’s face.

You glanced down, taking in the sight of Azriel going down on you as if his life depended on it - his nose rubbings against your clit, little pieces of his hair clinging to his forehead.

Azriel’s gaze snapped up to yours as a breathless moan left your lips, eyes blown out with lust. He thrust his tongue into you and you gasped, back arching off the table.

It was Azriel’s languid moan against your heat that spurred on your orgasm, your cries ricocheting throughout the library as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Azriel kept working you as you came, forcing you to push his head away when it finally became too much.

“Tapping out?” he asked cockily as he pushed himself back onto his feet. You glared, ignoring the way your heart swelled at the signs of your pleasure glistening on his face.

“Was that all you had to offer, shadowsinger?” you teased, sucking in a breath as Azriel’s face darkened.

“Gods, no.”

Azriel made a move for the string of his pants, glancing up at you as if he half-expected you to stop him.

“Keep going,” you urged, smiling as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. He gave you a small smile, undoing the knot and ridding himself of his pants and underwear.

Your eyes widened as his size; apparently, the saying about an Illyrian male’s wings was true. He was more than endowed, and your mouth practically watered at the sight of him. You trailed your eyes back up his toned body, melting at the nervous look on his face.

“I want you inside me,” you said with a smile, reaching your hands out for him.

A look of relief washed over his features as he moved forward, grabbing your outstretched hands as he bent down over you for a kiss.

You flung your arms around his shoulders, tongue moving against his as your mouths collided. He groaned, trailing his calloused hands down to your thighs.

He spread them apart and wrapped them around his waist in one fell swoop, pulling back to ask for your permission one last time.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Gods, Az, just fuck me,” you replied, throwing your head back against the table as he thrust into you.

He groaned, pushing into your heat until he had bottomed out. You gasped, trembling as you basked in the searing pleasure of him inside you.

“Is…do you feel good?” he huffed, clearly making a large effort to not start pounding into you.

“Move,” you panted, eyes closed as you rotated your hips frantically. “Please move.”

“My pleasure,” Azriel moaned, pulling back slightly and snapping his hips forward.

You were a moaning mess as he started a slow but steady pace, moving your hands to grip his biceps as he thrust into you again and again.

“Faster,” you breathed, moaning as Azriel pressed his forehead against your and quickened the pace. You admired the sounds coming from him, the shaky breaths and occasional groans.

You cried as he hit that one spot deep inside you. His hips stilled for a moment.

“There?” he asked, giving another experimental thrust. This time your back arched, toes curling as he grinned.

He began speeding up again, stroking the flame inside you as he hit that same spot with every thrust.

You were reduced to wordless cries, jolting every time he sheathed himself within you. Your eyes snapped open as Azriel let out a true moan, pulling yourself up crash your lips against his.

He grabbed onto one of your legs again, hitching it above his shoulder as he continued fucking into you. You cried into his mouth, body tensing up with anticipation as he brought his thumb to your clit roughly.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked breathlessly, hips snapping into yours at an almost inhuman speed.

As if in response your core tightened, back arching off the table as you came with a sob. Your hips writhed against his as you rode out your second orgasm of the night, entire body trembling as you clutched onto him for some kind of stability.

You felt his grip on your hip tighten, felt something within him snap as he pulled out of you, letting out an animalistic roar as he came. You gasped, hot ribbons shooting onto your stomach and breasts.

You felt dizzy as you opened your eyes, immediately blushing at the way Azriel was studying your body from above you. You glanced down, biting your lip at the sight of his cum painting your skin.

“That’s hot,” you grinned, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Azriel let out a strained chuckle, grinning as he pushed himself up and collapsed next to you.

“You’re hot,” he replied bluntly, closing his eyes as he combed his hair back.

You fell into a contented silence, save for the two of you panting as if you’d just worked out. Though, you supposed fucking could be considered a workout in some regards.

“I suppose you don’t hate me as much as I thought you did?” you asked finally, turning your head to gaze at him.

He shook his head with a smile, stretching his arms above his head on the wooden tabletop. “I never hated you.”

“Well, that would’ve been nice to know,” you laughed. “Gods, we could’ve been having ridiculously hot sex for years!”

Azriel laughed, really laughed, deep voice sounding throughout the room as you smiled brightly. His laugh had always been beautiful, but it sounded so much more special now that you were the one who caused it.

“I suppose the whole house knows we’ve reconciled,” he hummed thoughtfully.

You nodded, lips pursed. “We were indeed quite loud.”

He turned to face you, smiling as your eyes trailed down his body.

“I do own a small cabin in the woods north of Velaris,” he said slowly, a jovial smirk on his face. “I’m sure it wouldn’t matter how loud we were there. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

You grinned. “I think we should ask Rhys to send us on a retreat to further explore our new friendship. For purely professional purposes.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would have a significant effect on workplace morale,” Azriel replied, biting back a smile as he reached out a hand to stroke your face. You hummed, leaning into the touch.

“You know, I haven’t taken one vacation the whole time I’ve worked here,” you said, watching Azriel’s face contort with realization.

“I don’t think I have either,” he stated alarmedly, a suggestive look quickly overtaking his face. “I think now would be a great time to invoke all the vacation time we’ve earned.”

You grinned, rolling on top of Azriel and kissing him again.

Fanart by rosalynnart on DeviantArt

Summary: As a member of the Inner Circle, Rhys has requested you accompany them for their routine visit to the Court of Nightmares. You’re terrified - enter protective Azriel.

Warnings: crappy parents, brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 5,000

A/N: I love Azriel, that’s all. Requests are still open, and my request guidelines are linked on my masterlist. I hope you enjoy, please consider liking/following and all those things! :)

You hated the Court of Nightmares.

It was the place you’d been born and raised, tormented by your greedy parents and their fake friends. It hadn’t taken long for you to become disillusioned and disgusted by life in the Hewn City; you hated the way everyone was watched and judged, the way any and all relationships could be sabotaged in a matter of seconds all for a little bit of power.

You ran away when you turned 18, right as the War began. Everyone important (including your parents) was preoccupied with funding and logistics, and so no one chased after you. You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t expected them to send a cavalry after you. Of course you were a little hurt by their lack of interest in you, but it only reminded you why you were leaving in the first place.

You walked for days with hardly any food or water, until you were so exhausted you thought you might collapse in the woods and die. So be it, you had thought, I’d prefer death to living in that Cauldron-forsaken city, anyways. 

It was pure luck that you stumbled upon a camp of Night Court soldiers, all of whom were shocked by the appearance of your starving, disheveled self. None of them had jumped to help you, save for one Illyrian soldier with long hair and bright red siphons. He’d caught you as you all but collapsed onto him, carrying you to the healers’ tent and then to his own, where he fed you a really disgusting, genuinely awful stew.

“At least it’s warm,” he said with a shrug, handing you a bowl of steaming grayish slop.

You frowned, prodding a particularly chunky bit with your spoon. “What’s this supposed to be?” you asked, pointing to one of the lumps.

“Rabbit? Maybe deer?” he tried. “I have no idea, I’ve stopped asking.” You sighed, shaking your head as you brought the spoon to your mouth.

And that was how you met Cassian. Though it took all your effort not to throw up whatever it was he’d given you, you were still grateful for the meal, learning a little while later he’d given you his only dinner ration for that night. You were being honest when you told him that was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for you.

Cassian convinced his commander to let you stay with the legion. You were more than happy to help the healers tend to the many wounded, often collecting herbs for them since they had very little time to do so.

After a few months you began to befriend the seemingly brute soldiers, all of whom were actually quite funny and caring in their own way. You had assumed wrongly that they were only fighting out of obligation to the Night Court - on the contrary, many of them genuinely cared about freeing the humans, and were willing to fight and die for such a cause.

You began helping them advocate for themselves, acting as a messenger between them and their superiors whenever they needed anything. They’d been moved when you convinced the commander to get them waterproof bedding. You were just happy to help your new friends.

As the war progressed your legion became quite well known for its strength and enthusiasm in battle. Eventually, they caught the attention of the High Lord, who was eager to know how your commander kept them all so motivated. Your commander never told you that in his response, he attributed the soldiers’ high morale to you.

You didn’t find out about it until the High Lord himself summoned you to his encampment, wanting to meet you for himself.

“Y/N, is it?” he asked. You gulped and nodded, hating the way all the High Lord’s advisors were just staring at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, walking over to you and clasping your hand. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

“Oh, not really,” you replied dismissively.

“On the contrary, your commander attributed most of your legion’s success to you,” the High Lord said. Your eyes widened.

“He did?” you asked meekly.

“Yes, he did.” The High Lord led you over to the large table in the middle of the tent, covered in various maps and reports. You quickly recognized the different markings noting the enemy’s various armies in relation to your own.

“Their reinforcements are closer than I thought they were,” you said, pointing to an enemy group only half a day’s travel away from the front lines.

“Straight to the point, eh?” he chucked. You shrugged.

“Their proximity is worrying since our own reinforcements are two days away,” he continued. “I’m hoping my son will be able to urge them faster.”

“Your son?” you inquired. The High Lord nodded.

“My son Rhysand is the commander of this legion,” he said, pointing to one of the markers on the map. “He does a good job, though his troops are not as eager to fight as yours are.”

“Our soldiers want to see the humans freed,” you said. “Many of them have told me they would willingly die to win this war. I believe that has helped them stay strong when the fighting gets rough.”

“Very admirable of them,” the High Lord said thoughtfully. “I wish all our troops thought similarly.”

You nodded, still looking down at the table. “This map is very impressive, sir.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s the most accurate information we have.”

“How often do you update it?” you asked, looking up at him.

“We track the enemy’s movements down to the hour. Every shift, every change is reflected here.”

“Down to the hour?” you exclaimed, eyes wide. “How do you accomplish such a thing?”

“You’d have to ask him,” the High Lord replied, gesturing behind you.

You turned around, eyes landing on an Illyrian man clad in black leather. His hair was shorter than Cassian’s, wielding blue siphons instead of red. The biggest difference between the two, however, were the dark shadows that circled around him slowly. Your cheeks flushed as his gaze met yours, hazel eyes piercing. You smiled and gave him a small wave, but his face remained the same.

“That’s Azriel, the official shadowsinger of the Night Court,” explained the High Lord. You nodded slowly, turning back towards the table.

“Go introduce yourself, if you’d like,” he added. “He’s quiet, but perhaps he’ll enjoy some conversation.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, looking again at the shadowsinger and walking in his direction, pushing through the swarm of advisors and generals.

“Hello,” you said softly as you stopped in front of him, craning your neck upwards a bit to meet his eyes. “I’m Y/N.” His eyes widened as he looked down at you.

You bit your lip nervously and offered him your hand, though he kept his clasped firmly behind his back. You dropped your arm awkwardly, grabbing at the bottom of your shirt.

“I’m from the western legion,” you added, trying to make conversation. His eyes softened somewhat at that.

“Do you know a Cassian?” he asked quietly, voice deep and rumbling.
“Yes!” you replied brightly, trying to ignore the way your stomach had flip-flopped when he spoke. “He was the one who rescued me, actually, and convinced our commander to let me stay. He’s a close friend of mine.”

“Rescue?” he inquired. You nodded, not really wanting to elaborate.

“Well, any friend of Cassian’s a friend of mine,” he said, giving you a small smile. “I’m Azriel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel,” you said with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

You met Rhysand a little while after as he’d been giving a report to his father. When you returned to your legion and asked Cassian about both of them, he told you the story of how they’d met and became friends. You were shocked by all the horrors they’d endured, and a little mad at the High Lord for separating them.

“We probably could’ve won this war months ago if he let you all fight together,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Damn right, Y/N,” Cassian replied.

When the war ended, you were there to watch their reunion. You’d become a little emotional at the sight of them together, all smiling brighter than you’d ever seen before (even Azriel). You had tried to hide your teary eyes from them, only to start bawling when they grabbed you and pulled you into the group hug.

Rhysand had left soon after for the Court of Nightmares with his father. You’d urged Cassian and Azriel to go with him, insisting they needed some time to catch up with each other. You had opted to stay with the soldiers, helping them sort through their belongings and figure out where to go next. Like you, not all of them wanted to return to where they were from. You’d ended up in a small Illyrian camp with several of the soldiers from your legion, where you helped them settle in and begin navigating the ins and outs of running what was essentially a small town.

The next time you saw Rhysand, he was High Lord.

With his father dead, Rhysand was appointing a new Inner Circle with different values and morals than the one before it. He had asked you to be his advisor for social affairs, and you’d very emotionally accepted (“Do you cry at everything?” he teased, wrapping you in a hug as you nodded dramatically).

You were thrilled to learn Cassian and Azriel were also a part of the Inner Circle, as well as Rhysand’s cousin Morrigan and friend Amren. You were thrilled to have female friends for the first time in your entire life.

You also loved your job. As social advisor, you helped the various camps and smaller settlements throughout the court communicate with the High Lord, negotiating financial agreements and the like. It also meant you got to visit all your old friends, many of whom were starting families and working to change social standards in their towns.

The only part you did not like were the mandatory visits to the Hewn City once every few months, just to make sure everything there was running smoothly. For the many years you’d been working for Rhysand you’d managed to get out of every single visit, claiming you had scheduled trips to check up on camps and emergency meetings with different war-lords.

You had, however, run out of excuses.

“Y/N, I cannot allow you to miss another one of these trips,” Rhysand said sternly over breakfast. You glared pointedly at the plate of eggs in front of you, refusing to make eye contact with Rhys. Azriel and Cassian were sitting silently at the table, watching the two of you argue.

“Don’t you think,” you seethed, “that after years of trying to avoid this, I might have some reason not to go?”

“All of us have reasons not to go,” Rhysand said plainly. “No one enjoys these visits, but they’re mandatory. And you’re the only member of the Inner Circle who’s never visited. People have started talking.”

“Let them talk,” you scoffed, stuffing a forkful of eggs in your mouth.
“I don’t want to let them talk,” Rhys countered. “I don’t like them calling members of my Inner Circle weak, or negligent, or cowardly.”

“Well, I don’t care what they think of me,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand. “Amren hasn’t gone on the last few trips, either. I hope you’re planning on having this conversation with her as well.”

“First of all, I’d be a damn fool to try and tell Amren what to do,” Rhys stated, Cassian and Azriel nodding in agreement. “Second, she’s been to the Court of Nightmares before. Like I said, you’re the only one who hasn’t gone.”

You sat in silence, staring blankly in front of you. Rhys sighed.

“Y/N, I’m going to have to remove you from the Inner Circle if you don’t make this next trip,” he said finally. Your head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed.

“Rhys,” Azriel warned softly, glancing between the two of you.

“I won’t have anyone thinking my Inner Circle is weak,” Rhys said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t want to remove you, but don’t think I won’t do it.”

You sat back in your chair in defeat, thoughts of your childhood and parents racing through your mind. Your breaths became faster, the three Illyrians at the table looked at you in concern.

“Y/N-” Cassian started, but you stood up abruptly, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tears forming in your eyes.
“Fine,” you choked. “Fuck you, Rhys.” You stormed out of the room, racing up the stairs, leaving the three of them staring after you in alarmed confusion.

You didn’t talk to anyone until the day of the trip, when you met them downstairs to leave. You were wearing a tight black dress that draped down to the floor, hair and makeup done nicely. You would be able to fit in without calling too much attention to yourself.

“Hi,” Rhysand started hopefully, but you just stared at the ground in front of you, refusing to acknowledge him. He sighed.

“I’m sure you know already, but you’ll have to play the part when we get there. Acting all cunning and ruthless, bowing to me, those sorts of things.”

“I’ll behave,” you replied numbly. Azriel moved next to you, grabbing your hand as you prepared to winnow. You didn’t miss the slight rub of his thumb against the back of your hand, the slight squeeze as you closed your eyes.

When you opened them, you were standing in a dimly lit room, stone walls covered in black banners, no windows to be seen. You breathed heavily, hoping Azriel hadn’t noticed how much your hands were shaking.

“Mor will send for us when the Court’s assembled in the throne area,” Rhysand said, taking a seat in a large plush chair.

“Y/N are you alright?” Cassian asked, concern evident in his voice. You hadn’t once looked up from your feet.

You shook your head, no you were not alright. In fact, you were far from alright, seeing as you were back in the one place you’d never wanted to return to.

You stiffened as Azriel wrapped his arm behind you, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. You relaxed immediately, leaning into his side.

The room remained silent for a few minutes, Azriel trying his best to comfort you. You were almost sad when he pulled away as Mor walked into the room. You could’ve stayed nestled against him for hours.

“They’re ready for us,” Mor started. “Y/N, your parents are waiting outside. They want to talk to you.”

You felt Azriel tense up next to you as Rhys and Cass looked at you with wide eyes. You felt like breaking something, rage quickly replacing your fear. How dare they want to speak with you, after letting you walk out of their lives into a war?

“I’m going to wring their necks,” you muttered, stalking past Mor with Azriel following closely behind you. You didn’t need her to lead you to the throne room, you knew well enough where everything was in this damned city yourself.

You kept your eyes focused in front of you as you walked through the doorway, shoulders pushed back, features neutral. You ignored the figures waiting by the wall, ignored the calls of your name.

“You filthy runaway!” you heard your mother shriek from behind you. You ground your teeth, refusing to acknowledge her. Azriel caught up to you within a few strides, moving beside you as you continued forward.

“I didn’t know you had family here,” he said, eyes fixed forward just as yours were. Everything was a careful performance here.

“I was born here,” you said coldly. Azriel was silent next to you.

“I had no idea,” he replied finally.

“I never told anyone.”. The entrance to the throne room was now in sight. You could sense Cassian coming up behind you, moving to flank your other side.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel added. He glanced at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it before dropping it quickly. “I would’ve argued with Rhys about you coming if I had known.”

“I know you would’ve,” you said, watching him adopt the emotionless soldier persona once again. “Thank you.”

The three of you entered the throne room together, walking in sync past the crowds of Hewn City residents to the opposite wall. They fell silent as you approached. It almost made you smile, them at least pretending to respect you for the first time ever. You almost hoped someone would dare to say something out of line, just to see what Rhys and Cassian and Azriel might do. At the same time, you wanted to curl up into a ball in your bed and never see anyone again. Your confidence, as convincing as it was, was still an act.

You stood between them, waiting for Rhys to enter. You watched Mor saunter past her parents, giving them a taunting smirk. Maybe one day you’d be able to do the same.

You straightened as Rhys walked in behind her, purple eyes gleaming despite the terrible lighting of Hewn City.

“Your High Lord, ladies and gentlemen,” Mor announced, dropping to one knee as he sauntered into the room. You did the same, admiring the way Rhys emanated power and control. A quick glance to your left and you made brief eye contact with Azriel, whose muscular thighs were only accentuated by his kneeling. Your eyes widened, gulping as you looked back towards Rhys.

“My subjects,” he drawled with a grin, making his way up to the throne and sitting down casually. He scanned the room for a moment, then nodded. “Rise.”

You stood up slowly, watching Mor’s father step forward to deliver his report on city happenings. You weren’t really paying attention, choosing instead to let your gaze wander over to Azriel again. He was wearing all of his siphons, wings folded behind his back neatly. He looked somewhat relaxed, though his hands were positioned to draw his weapons if needed.

You loved Az’s hands, the hands he had tried to hide from you for months. When you finally asked him why he hid his scars, he’d reluctantly told you about his childhood. He’d been surprised when your reaction was not one of pity, but rather one of immense anger. How dare anyone do that to him? Azriel, who was so selfless and giving, did not deserve such pain.

“You’re staring,” Az muttered, a small smirk on his face.

“Am not,” you replied with a glare, fixing your eyes in front of you as your face heated up.

“Are too,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice the blush tinging your cheeks.

Kier was just finishing up his dull speech. Rhys looked beyond bored, though you knew it was all just a front. He would probably spend hours reviewing whatever information Kier had told him when you returned home.

“My Lord,” Mor’s father drawled. “I noticed the sixth member of your Inner Circle has joined you today.”

You stiffened as the whole room glanced in your direction.

“Y/N?” Rhys said, gesturing to you. You took a step forward and bowed, quickly returning to your place between Az and Cass.

“Welcome home, Y/N,” Kier said, a twisted grin on his face. “We missed you.”

“I’m sure,” you replied cooly, voice echoing off the stone walls. You picked out your parents rather quickly in the crowd, almost shuddering at the way they were glaring at you. You raised your eyebrows, taunting them to say something. They remained silent.

“If there is nothing more to discuss, I’ll be going now,” Rhys announced, pushing himself up from his seat and making his way towards the door. “Thank you for this, truly. You’re all dismissed.”

You waited until him and Mor had left to follow, making your way through the crowd with Azriel and Cassian on your heels. You failed to see your mother stalking towards you as you approached the doorway, failed to see her until she was right beside you. She grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks and turning you to face her forcefully.

Your heart skidded to a stop, face palling at the furious look on her face.

“You ungrateful child,” she hissed, nails digging into the skin on your shoulder.

“Let go of me,” you whispered. “Let go.” The whole room had stopped to watch the two of you.

“Howdareyou align yourself with him,” she screeched. You pulled away from her, heart pounding as she continued moving towards you.

“You’re pathetic,” you spat defensively, wanting nothing more than to push her away from you. She only cackled, eyes blazing as she lunged at you.

You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself for impact, but a leather-clad arm reached out from beside you before she could reach you.

Azriel, who you’d almost forgotten was with you, had grabbed your mother mid-air, pinning her to his side as she struggled in his grip.

He looked more furious than you’d ever seen him, a rarity for the shadowsinger who hid his emotions like secrets. His massive wings were unfurled, jaw clenched as he looked down at her like she was a criminal Rhys had asked him to torture. You almost smiled at how fearful she looked as she glanced up at him, powerless.

“If you touch her,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper, “I will gut you, and throw you off the mountain again and again until you stop screaming.”

Her face blanched, looking around nervously as she tried to get away. Azriel did not let her budge.

“Let me go,” she asked, voice shaking. “Please, let-”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t break every bone in your body right here in front of everyone,” he said, voice calm despite the rage so clear on his face.

“Please,” she begged again. “Please.”

He looked back at you and you nodded, watching as he threw her to the ground in front of you. She let out a shaky breath, carefully drawing herself up from the floor…

She was not expecting your punch, eyes widening as your fist connected with the side of your face. Neither was Azriel, if his look of pleasant shock was anything to go by. You admired the way her body crumpled back onto the ground, grinned openly at the frightened look she gave you.

“I hope you die a painful death,” you said, almost cheerily. You turned, seeking out your father in the crowd and pointing to him. “You too,” you shouted, watching as he paled.

You turned on your heel and stalked out of the room, giving Mor a thumbs up as you passed her in the doorway. She gave you a small smile and an approving nod.

You waited until Rhys winnowed you all back to Velaris to let yourself relax, your shoulders slumping as you collapsed into a chair. You were exhausted.

“I’m fucking starving,” Cassian grumbled, lumbering out of the room just as quickly as you arrived. You smiled a bit, opening your eyes to see Rhys watching you intently.

“Y/N,” he started, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” you said flatly.

“I had no idea,” he continued anyway. “I would have let you stay…”

“What’s done is done,” you sighed. “Besides, if I hadn’t gone I never would’ve gotten to punch the shit out of my mom.” He chuckled and you gave him a sick grin.

“I can arrange to have Azriel torture them, if you’d like,” Rhys offered, the same option he’d given Mor when she’d returned to the Court of Nightmares. Azriel nodded earnestly, as if he’d be happy to do it.

“Thanks, but I’d like to do it myself, when the time is right,” you replied. The two of them nodded in understanding. Rhys gave you a small smile and disappeared from view, probably to join Cassian.

Azriel walked over towards you carefully, sitting down in a chair next to yours. He reached his hand out, slowly brushing a stray hair out of your face. You hummed and leaned into his touch, so soft and caring despite the scars.

“I wasn’t expecting you to punch her,” he said quietly. You chucked.

“I wasn’t either, but I’m glad I did,” you replied, opening your eyes and finding his hazel ones gazing at you fondly.

“You’re staring,” you teased lightly, quoting him. He smiled but didn’t look away. You blushed, biting your lip and looking down at your lap.

“Thank you for keeping her away from me,” you almost whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had she actually, you know…” You trailed off, remembering the fear you had felt when she grabbed at you. “It was like I was frozen, I couldn’t move.”

“I think I would’ve actually killed her if she had gotten to you,” he said. You glanced up at him, his face carefully neutral as he thought about his words. “I was just…so mad at her, for calling you filthy and ungrateful, for insulting you in front of everyone.” He met your gaze and his face softened.

“Az,” you said gently, reaching out and gently taking his hands in your own.

“I’m sorry if it was out of line-”

“No,” you interrupted, “no, thank you for doing it. It gave me enough time to remember how little I care about her opinion of me.”

“She still shouldn’t call you such things,” he said, jaw clenching. “You’re one of the bravest people I know, running away from home and joining an Illyrian war camp, of all places.” You laughed, giving his hands a small squeeze.

“That place wasn’t home,” you said with a shake of your head. “That’s why I ran away, I wanted to find a place where people actually cared about me.”

“Did you?” he asked softly, eyes darting nervously between your face and your hands, still intertwined with his.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart surging as he smiled at you.

“You don’t have to go back, ever,” he said, looking at you intently. “I won’t let him force you again. I promise.”

“Thank you, Az,” you said gratefully.

“And I swear,” he continued, “if either of your parents steps one toe out of line I’ll make them regret every minute of their lives.” You grinned.

“Well, if that happens let me know,” you said, “I wouldn’t want to miss any of the fun.”

He laughed then, truly laughed, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he murmured, your heart almost stopping as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Az,” you breathed, stomach fluttering.

“Y/N,” he replied, voice husky with some emotion that made your head swirl.

“Az,” you giggled, sticking your tongue out, licking the tip of his nose.

His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face. “Gross,” he joked, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His eyes became serious, searching your face for any hesitation.

You leaned forward, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips against his. You could’ve sworn you felt his heart leap as he began to kiss you back, reaching around you to pull your body onto his lap. You couldn’t ignore the sparks of joy you felt as his hands roamed your back, nose pressed against your cheek as his lips molded against yours again and again.

You were the first one to pull away, needing air, heart melting as you opened your eyes and saw Azriel watching you with such obvious adoration. You admired the small smile on his face, the flush of his cheeks and his tousled hair, the quickened rising and falling of his chest…

And then something clicked, something deep inside you, and your eyes widened with immediate realization.

“It’s…it’s you,” you gasped, overcome with emotion. He gulped and nodded, looking at you hopefully.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes.” He paused, panting heavily. “Is that…okay?” he asked, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him before.

“It’s perfect,” you choked out, grabbing his face and pulling him in again. He groaned, your stomach doing flip flops as his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. He tucked his thumbs under your ears, claiming your mouth as his own.

“How…how long have you known?” you asked between kisses, your hands exploring the firm expanse of his chest.

“Since the first day I met you,” he mumbled against your lips, breathing heavily as you pulled back again.

“You’ve known for that long?” you asked incredulously, eyes wide. He nodded, grinning like he was the happiest man alive. “And you still waited for me?” You were touched.

“I would’ve waited until the end of time for you,” he said, ducking his head down and nuzzling your neck with his nose. “Though, I will say, it took you forever to realize.”

You swatted his shoulder playfully, resting your chin on the top of his head and closing your eyes. “I’ll cook dinner tonight, okay?” you said softly. You felt his whole body tense.

“Are…are you sure?” he asked thickly, as if you still might reject the mating bond.

But how could you ever think of such a thing, when you were sitting in the lap of the most protecting and caring person you’d ever met?

“I’m positive,” you murmured, tilting his head upwards and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Well in that case, I’m quite fond of chicken,” he teased.

“You’ll get whatever I feel like making,” you huffed, relishing in the way his whole body vibrated as he laughed.

“And I will happily eat whatever that is,” he replied lovingly.

“Even toast?” you asked.

“Even toast,” he grinned, capturing your lips in another kiss.

Fanart by jessdraw.s on Instagram

Request: “(Y/N) is the youngest Archeron sister and Azriel knows that she’s his mate when he first meets her in the human lands (but obviously she doesn’t feel it bc she’s only human at that point) and then maybe continue to when she’s kidnapped/turned into fae in Hybern/she realizes he’s her mate as well??”

Tags: @milllionthingsihaventdone

Warnings: depictions of violence and pain, swearing

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: One of my favorite Azriel requests ever. Very fun to write! As a small life update, I am safe and enjoying Spain very much. Love you all and hope you enjoy reading :)

Feyre had been gone for nearly a year when she returned to the estate from beyond The Wall. Of course, you hadn’t been home when she arrived, and had learned from Nesta later that afternoon.

You were the youngest Archeron sister - a year younger than Feyre - and had focused all your energy on school after your father regained his fortune. Not knowing how to read or write or do basic math had been your largest shame during your years in the cottage. There was no way for you to help other than helping skin the animals Feyre brought back, and even then you lacked the skills necessary to help her sell them at the market. You were determined not to let your family fall into such a situation again, and saw your education as the only way to guarantee that. You’d caught up rather quickly, and hoped that one day you’d be able to go to school in Neva and become a clerk or a banker.

That was where you’d been when Feyre had arrived. You could tell something had happened when you returned - there was a heavy tension in the air. Nesta was sitting on your bed waiting for you, her face set in stone, her shoulders stiff. You gave her a quizzical look as you closed the door behind you.

“You alright?” you asked, dropping your bag on the ground.

“Feyre’s here.” She spoke as if it were some common fact.

Your eyes widened as you turned around again, reaching for the doorknob “Why didn’t you say so-”

“Y/Ndon’t!” Nesta commanded, standing up from the bed and ignoring the bewildered expression on your face. “Do not open that door-”

“Why the fuck not?” you half-shouted, scoffing when Nesta stiffened at your words. “We haven’t seen her in months, you don’t get to keep me from seeing her.”

“She’s a faerie now.”

A pause.

“What?” you asked slowly.

“Feyre has been…changed, into a Fae. And she’s brought three of them with her.” There was an underlying pain in Nesta’s voice. “I thought you should know before you saw her.”

You could practically hear your heart pounding. “Are you sure?” you asked finally. “Are you positive?” Nesta nodded.

You gulped, brows furrowing. “Well, she’s still our sister,” you started, “and I’d like to say hi.”

“I swear, Y/N, if you walk out of this room-”

You rolled your eyes at Nesta, pushed the door open and stalked into the hallway.

“Y/N!”

“Please shut up, Nesta!” you called over your shoulder, heading in the direction of the guest room.

You knocked once, twice on the door, rocking back and forth on your feet as you waited. “Feyre?” you called. “Nesta said you were here…”

Your voice trailed off as the door opened slowly and Feyre’s head popped out from behind it. Your eyes widened, taking in the pointed ears, the tattoo on her hand, the nervous look on her face…

“Y/N, I-”

You pulled her into a tight embrace, your sister’s words dying on her lips. She let out a relieved sigh and wrapped her arms around you. “I missed you,” you whispered. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be,” Feyre murmured. “Nesta sure isn’t.”

“Sucks to be her,” you replied, grinning when Feyre giggled. You pulled back, inspecting her carefully. “You look healthy,” you noted. “And the ears look fabulous.”

“You really think so?” Feyre asked with a small grin. You nodded eagerly.

“Very cool.”

Your gaze trailed to the room behind Feyre, eyes widening at the sight of three very tall, very intimidating men with…

“Are those wings?” you asked incredulously, staring at the two donning bat-like wings and dark armor. Feyre chuckled nervously as the one with longer hair gave you a charming grin.

“They are indeed,” he said, spreading his wings out behind him to show you better. The red jewels on his armor gleamed.

“Feyre, who is this?” asked the third man. This one didn’t have wings, but instead a pair of intense purple eyes.

“My younger sister, Y/N.”

You waved hesitantly. “I’m assuming you’re all faeries, too?” They nodded. You cast a glance at the other winged man leaning against the bed frame. His hair was shorter, and the jewels on his armor were blue instead of red. He was also shrouded in a dark, twisting haze.

“I didn’t know you had a younger sister,” the one with longer hair said. He looked a little offended.

“Well, I didn’t know you existed either,” you shrugged. “Rather unfortunate.”
Feyre rolled her eyes as the man chuckled. “Feyre, I like her.”

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” your sister said. The man gave you a quick wave. “And that’s Rhysand…” (another wave from the man with purple eyes) “…and Azriel.” Azriel gave you a faint smile before looking back down at the carpet.

“Well, hello,” you said shyly. “Welcome to our home.”

Rhysand chuckled. “That’s the first nice thing we’ve heard since coming here.”

“My sisters are a little less…fondof faeries,” you explained apologetically. “I’m sorry if Nesta was a lot to deal with.”

“No need for apologies,” Rhysand said dismissively.

You turned to your sister. “Will the four of you be joining us for dinner?”

“Yes, as long as Nesta doesn’t throw us out before then,” Feyre joked. You grinned.

“That’s bound to be entertaining.”

—◯—◯—

At dinner you sat next to Azriel, cautiously eating your soup as you watched the drama between your older sisters with wide eyes. Every once in a while Cassian would interject with something funny and you would laugh, only for Nesta to silence you with a pointed glare. You thought the tension between him and your eldest sister was quite comical.

“So, you don’t have a problem with us?”

You looked over at Azriel and shook your head. “No, not really. I was afraid of you all when I was growing up, but once Feyre came back the first time I figured you couldn’t be all bad. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so desperate to leave again.” You bit your lip, remembering the day she’d left again for Prythian. Azriel seemed to notice the change in your mood.

“Did you miss her?” he asked. You nodded.

“I love her, more than anything,” you said. “But it hurt. It felt like she was choosing another life over us…” You shook your head. “But there was nothing left for her here. And I’m happy she found you all.”

Azriel nodded, chewing a forkful of potatoes thoughtfully. “We’re happy to have her.”

Your attention was drawn once more to Nesta, whose face had turned a furious shade of red at Cassian’s incessant remarks.

“Butshehates us?” Azriel asked again.

“Oh, yes,” you said with a nod. “Completely.”

“Noted.” A beat. “And your other sister?”

“Elain doesn’t hate,” you explained, glancing at your other sister sitting quietly next to Nesta. “But she definitely isn’t a huge fan. And her fiancé, well, he’s like Nesta but ten times worse.”

“I’ll avoid him then,” Azriel said, pushing his empty plate forward and turning slightly to look at you. “And you…Feyre doesn’t talk about any of you much, but she hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

You shrugged. “She’s always been protective of me. I think she’s just doing what she wishes Nesta had done for her.”

Azriel nodded, understanding. “She’s been through some tough situations, I understand why she’d make an effort to keep you out of it.”
You spared Feyre a glance. “She’s the strongest of all of us.”

“Well, definitely of her, Nesta, and Elain,” Azriel remarked. “But I know nothing of you, so I can’t judge entirely.”

You grinned shyly. “There’s not really much to know.”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m sure that’s not true. What do you like to do?”

“I like to read, I guess,” you said with a shrug.

“You can read?” Azriel asked, a confused look on his face. “But Feyre…”

“I didn’t learn until after she left,” you explained. “I used the money to get a tutor, and then I started going to school when I caught up to the people my age.”

He looked surprised. “That’s a lot to accomplish in a year.”

“Well, it’s kind of a necessary skill, you know? When we were starving in the woods, all I could think was that if I knew how to write or do math I could get a job and help Feyre provide for us all, but I couldn’t.” You scratched the back of your neck, a little embarrassed. “All I do now is study. I never want to be in a position like that again.”

“I understand,” Azriel said, giving you a small smile. “I know what it’s like to be forced into a compromising situation. And now you have the ability to keep yourself out of it, and so you’re working as hard as you can for that.”

You blinked, a little shocked by how well he understood you, and nodded. “Yes, exactly,” you whispered.

“What do you like to study?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink of his water.

You cleared your throat, rubbing your hands together nervously. “I like math a lot. I want to go study it more in one of the big cities, where they have whole institutions for it and stuff.”

“What do you want to do with that?” Azriel asked, genuinely interested.

“Well, I’ll probably become a banker or something, but I think I’d really love to study astronomy.”

Azriel bit back a grin. “I think you’d enjoy watching the sky at night in the city where I live.”

“Really?” you asked.

He nodded. “If Nesta ever lets you come visit, I’d love to show you.”

“I think I’d really like that,” you replied with a hopeful grin.

—◯—◯—

There was something about the Mortal Queens that left you completely unnerved. The way they seemed more than willing to sacrifice the Mortal Lands in Prythian, the way they seemed rooted in their decision before Rhysand and Morrigan had even begun speaking. It was like their visit was performative - like they wanted you all to think they cared, but really they only valued their own power and wellbeing. They could care less how you all fared in a fight with Hybern.

And these realizations left you shaking. You were terrified, scared for your family and your home, scared for the faerie folk north of The Wall that you’d just begun caring for. Your hands had begun to tremble in the middle of the meeting, and you hadn’t been able to stop it. You’d clasped them behind your back, gripped the chair in front of you, all to no avail.

Azriel had noticed. He’d been standing behind you, and moved up to your side when he noticed how anxious you were getting. He gave you a look that asked Are you alright?, to which you gave a dismissive shake of your head. But the Spymaster saw right through you, and took one of your hands in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

This had worked, for a little while. You allowed yourself to become distracted by the hand that held yours, which you were now seeing ungloved for the first time. You were taken aback by the scars, and wondered what awful things he’d had to endure to get them, but thought they made him seem more strong and beautiful than before.

Unfortunately, even with Azriel holding your hand, by the end of the meeting you were shaking again. The minute the Mortal Queens vanished into thin air you rushed out of the living room, hurrying off to your room as tears welled in your eyes and slamming the door behind you before anyone could hear you cry.

You collapsed against the wall, sobbing and shaking in defeat. Feyre would be the first lost to Hybern if they attacked, but in the end all of you would be killed in this war that seemed so sure to happen.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?”

Azriel.

“Y/N, please can I come in?”

“It’s unlocked,” you tried to say, voice wavering more than you wished it would. You wished you could be like Feyre, you wished you could be strong.

Azriel was in your room in an instant, crouching in front of you and clasping your shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.”

You brought your eyes up to his and inhaled sharply, transfixed by the emotion on his face.

“Az-”

“You are going to be fine,” he said, his voice deep and smooth and comforting.

“You and Nesta and Elain are going to be fine. And Feyre is going to be fine. Cassian and Rhysand and I would face Hybern ourselves and die before letting anything happen to the four of you.”

You let out a strangled, desperate noise, and Azriel’s face broke.

“But I don’t want anything to happen to you, either,” you sobbed.

“Y/N.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

And then Azriel was holding you to him, your face pressed into his shoulder and his into your hair as you clung to him wildly.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, relishing in the warmth of him and the feel of his hands caressing your back. You feared you’d never see him again, that you’d never feelhim again. And more than anything, you feared you’d never get the chance to figure out what these feelings meant.

“You won’t,” he said, “I promise you won’t.” And you almost wanted to believe him.

—◯—◯—

When you regained consciousness, Elain was being dragged towards a cauldron in the middle of the room. And there was screaming, so much screaming…

There were your sisters, and Feyreand Rhys and the members of the Night Court, and the blonde woman who had showed up at your house and-

Nesta was screaming, clawing and thrashing and shouting for Elain. You went to stand up, only to be held down by a man with yellow hair and green eyes.

“Ah, the youngest is awake.” A cold, sinister voice. And then Feyre shouting, and someone else shouting, and oh god there was Azriel’s body, limp on the floor.

You shrieked, struggling as you tried to free yourself.

“Tamlin, make sure the girl is watching. She’ll be next, after all.”

The man wrestled you into an upright position, his hand on your jaw forcing your head forward. You watched as Elain was dunked in the Cauldron, tears streaming down your face, and gasped when she emerged completely different.

And then you realized, they were turning you into High Fae.

You screamed as Tamlin pushed you forward, digging your heels into the ground to try and push back.

“You’re so tedious.” The cold voice again. You scanned the room, eyes settling on a crowned man with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. “The struggle isn’t worth it, you might as well go with some dignity.”

Feyre screamed, and you grimaced, pushing back again. It was no use.

You began to sob as Tamlin dragged you closer to the cauldron, begging for him to stop. You could’ve sworn you saw Azriel twitch where he lay on the ground.

And then Tamlin was hoisting you up, ignoring your screams as he pitched you into the Cauldron. You closed your eyes, hoping whatever would happen would be done quickly.

Cold. The first thing you noticed, and then searing pain. You cried out, pushing yourself up from the bottom of the Cauldron only for someone’s hand to push you back down.

The cold liquid turned blazing hot around you, energy coursing through your body as you changed, limbs stretching and heart pounding and skin searing.

And then someone was pulling you up, hoisting you out of the water.

You felt dizzy, and everything was blurry. You could make out Nesta’s face, fire in her eyes and she screamed, but you couldn’t hear her. And there was Feyre, face dreadfully pale. And Azriel, who was trying to push himself up off the floor, face twisting with pain as his eyes met yours. The first thing you heard was his strangled cry as he tried to reach out for you.

Tamlin let go of you, and you stood on your own for a moment, swaying, before collapsing onto the floor. Nesta roared.

“Well, that took longer than expected,” the cruel man laughed. “The Cauldron took more time with you than your sister, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to scream, blinking in confusion as you looked down at your own hands, suddenly so unfamiliar. You felt so defeated, sitting there on the ground as Nesta was dragged kicking and screaming to her fate.

Silence. Nesta was in the Cauldron. You slumped forward in defeat, head reeling as the Inner Circle struggled to reach you and your sisters. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness again was Azriel’s panic-stricken face.

—◯—◯—

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, in perhaps the comfiest bed you’d ever been in. You moved to sit up, grimacing at the pounding in your head, and inhaled sharply as memories flooded you. You looked down at your hands, noticing the slight differences in the way they looked and in the way you were seeing them, and realized it hadn’t been a dream.

You blinked again, trying to adjust to the heightened details your senses were picking up, the textures of furniture and sounds of birds chirping outside your window. It was all very overwhelming.

As if on cue, the door opened and in stepped Azriel, looking a bit worse for wear. His eyes, underlined by dark circles, widened upon seeing you sitting upright, and he rushed over to the bed.

“Y/N,” he breathed, sitting down next to you carefully and cradling your face in his hands. You let yourself fall into him, allowed yourself to relax in his touch as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, nuzzling into his chest. He pulled back, brown eyes darting up and down as he inspected you.

“When did you wake up?” he asked softly.

“Just now,” you replied, twisting your head to stretch your neck. “How…how long was I asleep?”

“A couple of days,” he answered, a grimace on his face. You nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“Where’s Feyre?” you asked finally.

“In the Spring Court,” Azriel answered, shoulders slumping slightly. “With Tamlin.”

You scoffed. “The asshole who dragged me into the Cauldron.”

“That’s the one,” he said with a half-hearted chuckle. You scowled.

“What’s she doing there?” you asked. “I thought she was, you know, with Rhys.”

“She is,” Azriel said, looking up at you. “Feyre is not only Rhysand’s mate, but the High Lady of the Night Court. She’s alive and well, and spying on Tamlin for us.”

Your eyes widened, nodding slowly. “That’s certainly a promotion,” you stated, trying to process what Azriel had just told you. “Good for her.”
Azriel laughed, an exhausted and relieved laugh, and pulled you in for another hug.

“Gods, Y/N,” he breathed into your hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to hold you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as you snaked your arms around his torso.

“What happened to me?” you asked, voice no more than a whisper.

“Ianthe…the priestess who works with Tamlin, she kidnapped you from your home.” Azriel’s voice was thick with emotion, and you bit your lip as he pulled you closer to him. “And then she brought you to Hybern, where we were ambushed trying to remove the Cauldron’s power.”

“That’s why you were unconscious?”

Azriel nodded and gulped. You realized he was crying. “And then they turned the three of you into High Fae, and Feyre distracted them so we could get you all out.”
You pulled back, heart breaking at the misty look in his eyes. “Where are we now?” you asked, glancing around the room.

“You’re in the House of Wind, in Velaris,” he answered, a small smile on his face. “The City of Starlight.”

Your eyes lit up. “The Night Court?” you asked, trying to contain your budding excitement. Azriel nodded. “Holy shit.”

He chuckled, shifting backwards slightly and looking down at where your hands rested on the comforter. He swallowed, then reached out and gently took them in his own. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it before. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you said softly.

“I promised to protect you.” His voice was a whisper now. “I promised you I wouldn’t let any harm come to your family and I failed, I-”

“Absolutely not,” you interrupted. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and you shook your head. “You did not fail. You were literally unconscious when Tamlin put me in the cauldron. They had to knock you out to get to us, and that still didn’t keep you away. Don’t you dare say you failed.”

“But-”

“And we’re all here now, and we’re all alive.” You paused, frowned. “We are all alive, right? Nesta and Elain…”

“They’re fine,” he said quickly, hands squeezing yours. “Nesta…well she’s not doing well emotionally, but they’ve both been up for a few days.”

You nodded once, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. “Please don’t blame yourself. I don’t think I could stand it.”

“I’m still sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” you begged. “You got me out of there, while you were injured yourself. You’ve done more to keep me safe than anyone.”

He gave you a small smile. “Don’t forget Feyre,” he said. You grinned.

“I’ll consider you tied with Feyre.”

You pulled back slightly, glancing around at the room and taking in the lavish furniture, the rich purple color of the walls. “Rhys really has a lot of money, huh?” you said, looking back at Azriel. Azriel shook his head, smiling.

“He has more money than he knows what to do with,” he replied, eyes full of adoration as he gazed at you.

“Do you think I could…borrow some of it?” you suggested. “It’s not that I don’t love the decor, but if I’m going to be staying here for a while I think I’d like to buy a painting or something.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he chuckled. “Maybe we could go into the city, and look at some art shops?” 

“I’d enjoy that,” you said, nodding eagerly. “You could show me around, you know?”

Azriel grinned, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. “Do you remember when we met, and I told you I’d take you stargazing if you were ever here?”

You nodded. A beat.

“Would you like to do that, tonight?” he asked tentatively. “Just you and me?”

“Yes,” you replied quickly, a smile blossoming on your face. “Yes, please.” Something about the hopeful look Azriel was giving you, the way his eyes shone at you with adoration, left your heart stuttering in your chest.

—◯—◯—

“So, it isn’t always nighttime in…the Night Court?” you asked hesitantly. You were on top of the House of Wind with Azriel, the two of you lying down on a blanket he’d brought up with him. Azriel chuckled and shook his head.

“Rats,” you said. “Got that one wrong, I guess.”

“We do, however, have the most beautiful nights in all of Prythian,” Azriel pointed out. You grinned.

“Yea, Az, it’s gorgeous.”

Never in your whole life had the stars seemed so close. You reveled under them, picking out constellations as Azriel told you about Velaris. Every once in a while you glanced over at him and were rendered absolutely speechless, admiring the sharp angles of his face and the curve of his nose. He looked beautiful in the starlight.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Anything.”

He bit his lip. “You have to promise not to get mad.” He paused, reconsidering. “I’m nervous that you will.”

Your brows furrowed and you shifted next to him, resting on your side so you could look at his face. “What is it?”

You watched him swallow, close his eyes as if whatever he was thinking about physically pained him. “You understand how the whole…mate thing works, right?”

“Kind of,” you replied slowly. “Like Feyre and Rhys?”

Azriel nodded. “Exactly like Feyre and Rhys.”

“Well what’s that got to do with-” You stopped, eyes widening in sudden realization. “Azriel,” you whispered, voice deadly quiet. “Are we…?”

You trailed off as he nodded, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Oh.”

He sighed. “I understand if you need time, or if you don’t want anything with me. I just want you to know I’m here for you-”

You climbed on top of him, effectively cutting him off as you buried your face in his neck and hugged him tightly. He inhaled sharply, clasped his arms around your midsection tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Azriel it’s okay,” you said softly, “You’re fantastic, I could never be mad at you, especially for something like this.”

He let out a shaky breath, pulling you closer to him still. “Thank you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, recalling all the times you’d felt an indescribable pull towards Azriel, all the times he’d been the only person who could calm you down or understand you.

“How did you know?” you mumbled against him.

“I think I’ve always known,” he said quietly, one hand rubbing your back. “There’s always been something so special about you, something that made me want to keep you safe. And then the minute you changed in the Cauldron…”

Azriel took a deep breath, and you remembered the desperate look on his face when Tamlin had pulled you out of the Cauldron, remembered the way he’d been so injured but still tried to reach you.

“Something just snapped,” he whispered. “And I think I had been unconscious, but suddenly you were coming out of the Cauldron and all I could think about was you and how scared you looked.”

“Azriel,” you murmured, pushing yourself up to look in his eyes. You felt your resolve crumble at the tears running down his face, and reached up gently to brush them away.

“How-” you started, brows furrowing as you searched for the right words. “How does one…agreeto a situation like this. What am I supposed to do?”

Azriel’s voice was slow and unsteady as he answered. “If you were to accept the mating bond, the female typically makes something for the male to eat.”

“You sound like you’re reading from a textbook,” you teased, giggling when Azriel rolled his eyes. “So, what do you like to eat?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Y/N-”

“I know you had potatoes when you came over that one time-”

“Y/N, you don’t have to accept it,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, and I’m perfectly happy to wait.”

“I think I’m going to make us cookies,” you hummed, resting your nose against his. Azriel gasped softly, his eyes fluttering shut. “Would you eat them with me?”

“Yes,” Azriel strained. “Gods, yes.” He brought his hands up to hold your face, and your eyes shut as he kissed you reverently. And you stayed there for hours, holding each other under the starlight, whispering soft I love you’s between kisses, before heading down to the kitchens hand in hand.

nikethestatue:

Azriel

Via: Jess.draws

Me thinking about how sad and lonely Azriel’s childhood must have been— breaks my heart every time:

sydneymack:

Elain and Azriel - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @celinelavenart

offtorivendell:

Azriel never actually agreed to comply with Rhys’ orders to stay away from Elain

Elriel Month, Week 5: Anything Your Heart Desires

Just a friendly reminder that, while Azriel may have been knocked from his rage by Rhys threatening punishment and pulling rank during their talk on Solstice Night, he never actually agreed to stop pursuing Elain Archeron.

Have a look:

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.”

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.“

"I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true.

“I know.“ Rhys’s eyes flickered. "And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court but also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. “So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

Let’s disregard the fact that, assuming Rhys and Feyre’s assumptions about Lucien’s true paternity are accurate, it’s questionable whether he would even have the right to invoke the Blood Duel against Azriel; if Helion ever acknowledges Lucien, does the Day Court still allow it? And would Rhys’ lies about Lucien’s right to challenge Azriel for Elain’s love somehow invalidate a fundamental part of any hypothetical agreement that was made between himself and Az? I’m not sure whether the magic of bargain bonds - whatever it is - considers the spirit of the original agreement; at least, I wouldn’t count on it, just in case. It’s a big “if.”

So, in a world where your word can be a magically enforced and bonded bargain - clever Spymaster.

@elriel-month

soyzaweels:

❞ — , . ’ , .❞ — . ❞

Artist @/carasalexandra on ig.

Commissioned by me

Please ’

Elain in COBALT!!!!!!

tessacursebreaker:

Still thinking about when Madja said Elains mate would be the best bet to figure out what’s wrong with her and Azriel was the one who figured it out while L*cien had no idea

Literally based off of that alone it shows Azriel is better suited for Elain

perfectengineertragedy:

And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.

Art: @LivLochan

sydneymack:

Elain and Azriel - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @/diielliee

Little One

Remember when I said I should’ve turned the Headcanon Oh Baby into an actual fic…? Well, here we are! I decided to use @elriel-month as the opportunity to do so, as there may or may not be a part 2 coming out next week to wrap up the month celebration (can you believe we’re at the end already? ). Anyways, this has some small differences to the original HC, but follows it fairly closely. Hope you enjoy it. I truly adore this little family.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 3,080

Azriel remembered the day Elain got pregnant was the day everything in his life changed. Their morning had started normal, waking with the dawn, making love in their bed. Twice—it was always multiple rounds with them—before rising out of bed to get ready for the day. He had left to tend to some stuff for Rhys and returned to find Elain hunched in the garden.

He landed on their terrace as she was walking towards the house. A breeze shifted her hair, sending her honey and jasmine scent floating over to him. Az inhaled it deeply, and went ramrod straight, staring at her.

“Azriel?” she called out to him, head cocked to the side. “Are you quite all right?”

Shadows swarmed out of him, flitting to her side, around her protectively. They sang the news in his ear, but he already knew. He could smell the beautiful, innocent, new scent that had delicately weaved with hers. His eyes flicked over her body, looking for any changes he knew were too soon to be seen, but sought out anyways. And then he was moving towards her, dropping to his knees before her as some sappy, pathetic sound came out of the Night Court’s deadly shadowsinger.

She seemed startled by his actions but gripped him tightly, offering him comfort for whatever was wrong just the same.

“Elain,” he choked out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re pregnant.”

The Seer blinked down at him, hands settling on his shoulders. “I—what?”

His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers splaying across her lower back. “You’re pregnant, Elain. We’re going to have a baby.”

Silver lined her brown eyes, the golden strands reflecting the sun’s rays. “A baby?” she reiterated.

He nodded, rubbing his hands up and down her hips. “A baby.”

They had talked about kids but never made any official plans about actively trying to have any. The Mother, it seemed, continued to gift her favorite Archeron.

Elain threaded her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Az,” she cried, falling to her knees with him. “You’ve made me so happy.” She kissed him, tugging him down on top of her right there on the grassy pathway of her garden.

Fingers laced and the sun high in the sky, Azriel made love to his beautiful, pregnant wife in the middle of her garden.

The next month when Elain returned to Illyria with him to continue her volunteer work at Rhys and Feyre’s orphanage was an ordeal in itself. They had decided to take a month off to get themselves situated, let their family know of the news, and help prepare Azriel for overcoming that territorial nature ingrained into him.

It wasn’t easy.

The moment they landed in Devlon’s camp, he went full Illyrian—as she so kindly put it. Snarling and snapping at anyone who got too close to his Elain and the new life she then carried.

Most of the Illyrians took in her new scent and the shadowsinger’s wrathful stare and kept a healthy distance away from her. But there were a few that dared to toe that line and came out worse for wear as a result.

Elain couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the antics, muttering Illyrians under her breath as she made her way into the orphanage.

In the few years that she helped out here, she had taken to the young children, but one more so than the rest.

Little Kaden couldn’t have been more than four years old but was much smaller than the other children his age. She had suspected of malnourishment before he was brought in, something she made Azriel aware of. Kaden was incredibly shy, kept to the back of the group, and never spoke.

To anyone.

About three months into her pregnancy, still not even showing at this point, she approached the little boy, clutching a tattered book to his chest. “Hi Kaden,” she greeted, squatting down to put herself at eye level with him. “What do you have there? A book?”

A small nod was her only response, not that it had surprised her. Elain smiled at the little Illyrian. “Would you like me to read it to you?” she asked, sitting down on the floor.

The boy hesitated but eventually caved and crawled into her lap, falling asleep within a couple of minutes of her reading. Her motherly instincts had her cradling his sleeping form to her chest, carding her fingers through his hair that was as dark as her husband’s was.

That was how Azriel found his wife that afternoon when he returned to the orphanage—holding the snoozing Illyrian child, his small hand clutching the front of her dress. He looked at them fondly, seeing the beginnings of this beautiful bond between the Seer and the little one. His heart swelled with pride not just for the work his wife was doing at the orphanage, but also for giving these children a maternal love they never had.

Over the next several months, Kaden seemed to be glued to Elain’s side. Even in the presence of Azriel—the fearsome shadowsinger held a reputation even amongst the children—Kaden stuck by her side, little hand gripping the swaths of her dress. She had asked him one night if that was common in Illyrian culture, to cling that tightly to someone.

It wasn’t. He worried that Kaden appeared afraid that Elain would be taken from him and that was why he was so attached to her.

“That’s awful,” she had said over dinner. “Do you think it has anything to do with his history and how he came to the orphanage? Why he’s there?”

Azriel took a sip of his wine. “It could be. There isn’t much information on him.”

“I’ve been reading to him for months. Spending time with him. And he still won’t speak to me. I’m worried about his development. Isn’t there anything we can do? Try to find?” Her hand rubbed her rounded stomach, growing with new life.

He smiled softly at her. “Of course, my love. I’ll see what I can find. I’ll ask a couple of my sources to look into it. See what they come up with.”

Unfortunately, the information doesn’t come before Elain becomes too pregnant to continue volunteering at the orphanage.

“I’m sorry, Lady Elain, but you’re nine months pregnant and measuring ahead of schedule. Having you outside of Velaris is risky should you go into labor,” Thea, her preferred Healer had told her. “That is my recommendation, but I will leave the decision up to you and your husband.”

With that, she bid them goodbye and let them hash out their plans.

“What about Kaden?” Elain worried.

The shadowsinger’s lips curled up. He cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. “You are a good female, my love. A kind, generous, lovable, beautiful, female. And you will make the best mother—that I have no doubt.” Leaning in, he kissed her softly. “I will check in with the little one.” His thumb stroked her cheek again. “Stay here with the twins. Settle in and prepare for the baby. Let me handle what’s left on the to-do list outside of the house.” 

She huffed out a breath. “Well, when you put it that way.” Elain pushed her way off the sofa, her husband instantly there to help her up. “If I can’t go back, then I need to give you something to take to Kaden,” she announced, padding her way over to the kitchen.

Though he knew Kaden would be looking for his wife, Azriel is still surprised to feel the tug on the pant leg of his leathers the next morning when he shows up at the Orphanage without Elain. He smiles, kneeling to make himself less imposing for the little Illyrian. “Hello, Kaden.”

As expected, he gets no vocal response, but he knows exactly what the child wants to know. “I’m sorry Kaden. Elain is too pregnant to come to visit right now. But she did give me something to give to you.” He pulled out the wrapped cookie, baked with love and devotion by his beautiful wife the night before.

Kaden gave him a toothy grin, took the cookie from his outstretched hand, and mumbled the smallest “Tank you,” the t-h sound not coming through.

Azriel is stunned into silence, especially when Kaden threw his arms around his neck before running off to enjoy his treat. Still kneeling, he watched as the little one disappeared, running through all the possible individuals in his head that he could ask to look into his past. He needed to know—for his sake, for his wife’s. For Kaden’s. He needed to know how he ended up here, what happened to his parents, and how they could help him.

“I can’t believe he spoke to you!” Elain complained, sitting against the headboard of their bed, arms crossed over the heavy swells of her breasts. “I’ve spent months with him. Months, Azriel! You bring him one of my cookies and he speaks!”

Azriel chuckled, striding in from the bathing chamber to their bedroom in a pair of his drawers, his golden-tan, tattooed skin on display. He crawled over her, trapping her in the strength of his arms, his body, and kissed her; let his tongue stroke hers. When he pulled back slightly, he smirked at her. “Guess he just likes me more.”

Elain’s face scrunched in disdain and she placed a palm on his chest, shoving him over to his side of the bed. “I dislike you,” she muttered.

He barked out a laugh. “Now that’s a lie and we both know it.” Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her snugly against his chest, letting her rest her belly on his stomach to offer her some relief. His beautiful wife, the mother of his child. They drifted together into a blissful sleep cocooned by his wing and the scent of their nearly arrived baby.

~~~

Two weeks later, Az was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when his shadows went wildly out of control. He flipped everything off as one curled around his ear, whispering in that singsong voice of it, Elain.

Panic erupted in him like nothing he’d ever felt before. “Elain!” he called out, running through the house.

And then he heard it—her screams of pain.

The shadowsinger tore through their home, finding her at the back in the library. She was hunched over the table there, hand gripping the side of her stomach. A small puddle of clear fluid was on the floor beneath her. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. “El,” he murmured.

She was panting heavily. “Az.” Her eyes were shining.

This was it. The baby was coming. He sent a thought to Rhys down their mental bridge that he left open for him, asking him to summon the healer, then swooped down to lift her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. He stripped her dress off her, leaving her in her shift, and then gently laid her on the bed, propping her up with pillows to make her as comfortable as possible.

Elain touched his cheek, catching his attention. “You ready to be a father,” she asked, a lovely smile growing on her face.

He gripped her hand in his fist, a watery laugh bubbling out of him. “We’re having a baby.” Leaning down, he rested his brow against hers, savoring that last moment before they became parents.

A short while later, an exhausted yet elated Elain placed a beautiful, healthy baby Illyrian girl in his arms—the Cauldron once again blessing its favorite Archeron with a relatively easy birth.

With her father’s dark hair and skin tone and her mother’s eyes, she was easily the most beautiful thing Azriel had ever seen, and he sobbed in utter joy as he held his newborn daughter for the first time. “Hello little one, my little love,” he wept to her. “Daddy loves you so damnmuch.”

Elain swiped the pad of her fingertip over her daughter’s plump cheek, letting her husband have his moment with her.

Those hazel eyes, filled with tears, love, and so much happiness gazed down at his wife. “Have you settled on a name?” he finally asked. They had gone back and forth on two for weeks now until Azriel decided that Elain could decide after the birth.

She smiled nodding, propping her chin on his bicep. “I have. Rosalie Archeron.”

“Rosalie,” he repeated, letting the name curl off his tongue. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.” Leaning down, he kissed Elain slowly, deeply. “You did so well, my love. Thank you for this. For giving me this life—this gift,” his gaze shifted back to the sleeping baby in his arms, so tiny in comparison to their size.

Elain snuggled into his side as they just stared at their daughter, peacefully dozing in her father’s presence.

They spend the next month on a babymoon at their cottage, sending both Rhys and Cassian to the orphanage to check in on Kaden, though neither was successful in their attempts.

When Elain finally returned to the orphanage, she immediately went in search of him, a pink bundle still in her arms.

The Illyrian brightened immediately at the sight of her, running to grab at her skirts.

“Hi, Kaden,” she said, kneeling in front of him to bring her daughter to his eye level. “I’ve missed you.”

But the little one’s hazel eyes are glued to the face he can see through the swath of blankets. “What’s her name?” he asked in a voice so soft that Elain almost missed it.

She’s so surprised by it that it takes her a second to answer. Once she shook off her stupor, she told him, “Kaden, this is Rosalie.” Elain tilted her daughter up a little more so he could see her better.

“Wosawie,” he repeated, his r’s sounding more like w’s.

It tugged at her heartstrings, seeing how intently he looked at her, how he tried to pronounce her name. She carefully watched as his fingers traced over the soft fabric of her blanket, not daring to touch the baby herself. From the entrance, Elain felt a shadowed figure observing them, the Night Court’s spymaster keeping watch over the intimate moment between his wife, daughter, and the little Illyrian.

Elain ruffled Kaden’s hair. “I need to get some work done if you want to help me,” she announced, setting Rosalie down in one of the cribs. A single shadow lurked beneath the swaths of blankets, Azriel’s form of protection when he was away. As she made her way to the doorway, she realized he hadn’t followed her. Turning around, Elain saw Kaden was still standing by her daughter’s crib, guarding it like her own little protector. She cocked her head to the side but left him to it.

Over the next several weeks, Kaden watched over the Seer and the shadowsinger’s daughter like it was his duty. Elain stood hip propped against the door jam as she studied them when she felt her husband appear at her side. “Do you think they’re mates?” she asked, curiously but also concerned knowing her first mate wasn’t a good match.

Azriel crossed his arms. “No, they’re too young for it to be a mate thing.”

Some underlying worry whooshed out of her at that. She looked at him. “You know something.”

His jaw feathered. “Kaden’s mother was forced into a marriage with his father. They had him early on. She ended up falling in love with another male and got pregnant. When his father found out, he killed her and the unborn child in a fit of rage.”

“Oh my god,” Elain breathed, horror coiling in her gut. That poor female. Her brown eyes found Kaden across the room; looked at him with sorrow.

“He dropped Kaden off here afterward, not wanting anything connected to his unfaithful wife,” Az continued. Tension radiated off him in waves of pure, untamed, fury.

“Was Kaden present for it? The killing of his mother?” she asked, though Elain had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Yes, he was.” It was barely controlled rage in her husband’s tone. Shadows swirled around his ankles, the talons of his wings. “I think Kaden could smell your pregnancy and clung to you, afraid that you would be ripped from him like his mother was. And now he’s watching over Rosalie.”

The sibling he never got.

Elain was struggling not to cry—something that wasn’t a result of the hormones still raging in her body. “Is his father still alive?”

Azriel was looking at the two children when he answered, “For now.” He had to release a breath, turning to face his wife who watched the children with sorrow. “You want to take him home.” It wasn’t a question. Az had a knack for reading her so well.

She took his scarred hand in hers, looking up at his face. “Yes. He adores Rosalie and I adore him.”

The wrath on the shadowsinger’s face from earlier vanished at her words. “And I adore you,” he whispered, pulling her closer to kiss her. “Two kids. Do you think we’re ready?”

“There’s nothing we can’t do, my love,” Elain breathed, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his again, further proving just how much their love could conquer all.

“I’ll go speak with the head mother of the orphanage. Go wait with them and we’ll tell him together.”

Elain squeezed his hands. “I love you, Azriel. So much.”

“I love you, too, Elain. And I love this family. Thank you, my love, for giving me this.” He threw an arm around her waist, tugging her close to him. The Seer and the shadowsinger watched over the two children with awe on their faces and love in their hearts as their family of three became four.

Now Azriel stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching as Elain rocked their children in the large rocking chair, Kaden perched in her lap against her chest, Rosalie already fast asleep in the crook of her arm. She was reading one of their son’s favorite bedtime stories. He smiled as took in the scene in front of him. Az never thought he’d get this life. Have this beautiful, chosen family with the love of his life. And the Mother knew he would never change a thing.

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it.

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than their worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

stargirl00s:

Week 4 - Choice, true mates, and balance

I‘m not really happy with how this turned out, but I really wanted to post something for this week.

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT CREDITS!

wingedblooms:

Spring dawned

I know these scenes have been discussed before, but I’m not sure if they’ve all been linked (forgive me if they have and I missed it).

ThissceneinACOMAF:

Spring had at last dawned on the human world, crocuses and daffodils poking their heads out of the thawed earth.

The younger queen merely gave a little nod, her amber gaze leaping over to our friends behind us: Cassian and Azriel on either side of the bay of windows where Elain and Nesta stood in their finery, Elain’s garden in bloom behind them.

Andthis scenein ACOSF:

Feyre and Rhys took their thrones, and Nesta and Elain came to stand at the foot of the dais, between him and Azriel.

Feel like foreshadowing of the hopeful future that begins to bloom at the end of ACOSF:

Spring bloomed fully around Velaris, and Feyre and Nyx were finally well enough to leave the house each day, going on walks that often lasted hours thanks to the well-wishers who longed to see the child.

A future where Nesta stands beside her mate, Cassian, and has a home to call her own:

But all that mattered, she realized, wasthe male who would bestandingwithher, first as they swore their vows, then as they offered each other food, and then as their friends and family bound their hands together with a length of black ribbon, to remain until the mating was consummated.

And so, naturally, we might expect the next stage of this future will include Elain, and themale who will stand with her:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her.StandingbeforeDeath,shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder.Lightanddark,the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

Mates or not, Elain and Azriel can change fate and forge their own path in perfect harmony.

More theories about fate, Elain, Azriel, and her sisters below:

• A perfect blend
• Elain’s murky realm
• Forbidden secrets
• Hope shining through the Void
• Shifting forms of fate

silverdreamscapes:

shadowsandbloom:

If a male mc doesn’t voice concern over his love interest putting herself in danger, he sucks. I don’t want to read about someone like this. Thank god, me and Sjm are on the same page on this. Y’all can read your flavourless girlboss books elsewhere, cause Acotar ain’t for you, if you think like this, babes.

Azriel not being concerned or worried about Gw*n being kidnapped isn’t the serve some people think it is lol.

These are alpha males. They’re supposed to be concerned about the safety and well being of their love interest. This isn’t anything new in romance or for this series.

We get not one. Not two. But three different instances of Azriel being concerned for Elain. When she offers to look for the DT. When Nesta called her boring. And when Cassian tells him Elain and Nesta got into a fight. To the point where Azriel even has trouble calming down.

Meanwhile, Azriel when Gw*n is taken:

nikethestatue:

Azriel willingly weakened and disarmed himself for the sake of Elain, and her survival. He give up his magical dagger which comes with a lifetime guarantee of always ‘striking true’ and gave it to her. Knowing that his wings were messed up, he couldn’t really fly, he just came back from a serious fight, he was injured, and still potentially had to fight in a huge battle. And at that moment, he still decided to arm Elain–this girl who never held a dagger before. He could’ve given her any other knife, and she wouldn’t have known the difference. But the man is so concerned about her, her well-being, her safety, her survival that he willingly gave up something so precious to him, and something that could’ve definitely protected him during the battle. 

He could’ve offered her ‘quiet encouragement’. He could’ve ran to Feyre and demanded that Elain be sitting in some wagon, surrounded by armed guards at all times. 

He didn’t do any of it. He offered her practical means to defend herself, believing in her and her abilities. When push came to shove, Azriel knew that she’d come through and she did. He believed in her from the get-go, and she did not disappoint.

elriell:

I wanted to close out the month how we started it with a magical Elriel MerMay piece! I hope you all enjoy this version as I am in complete awe <3
A huge thank you to @luxury_banshee for accepting the commission and absolutely breaking me with the result. The details are *chefs kiss*

What a wonderful and incredible month it has been and such a pleasure to share it with you all! I have so much love for this community
Unfortunetly due to delays I missed a week of Elriel month, though the piece will still come at a later date ✨And there are plenty more INSANE pieces to come in June … and some collabs with @captnswreads 

Characters belong to @therealsjmaas
No hate will be tolerated on any art. Please do NOTrepost.

offtorivendell:

Did Azriel feel the echo of a bond when he met Elain?

Elriel Month, Week 4: Choice, True Mates & Balance.

This is obviously stretching what is written, and is definitely a crack theory, but consider the following:

ACOWAR

This has been analysed before, in terms of Elain’s whispering cobalt dress and its parallels to Azriel’s siphons and shadows, but what if that’s not all?

Azriel, canonically, has “stone cold manners,” so why would conversing with Feyre’s sisters - human or not - be any sort of struggle for him, or make him so uncomfortable that he wanted to disappear entirely? Surely he has dealt with far more difficult people, and awkward situations, than two nervous humans who are inviting faeries into their home in order involve themselves with the Night Court’s political machinations?

• It doesn’t make much sense to me, that this would be where he drew the line in terms of what he can bear, so what if - and again, Iknow this is a stretch-Azriel felt the echo of some sort of a bond with Elain when he first met her, though he didn’t know what it meant at the time. He only knew that it was new.
• What if Az (and Elain!) each had a “and there she/he was” moment, but neither understand the significance?*

* Elain not understanding what she felt would have been because she was a human (ie. what even is a “mate”?), and Azriel because he likely doesn’t think he’s worthy of a mate, so he wouldn’t have considered it as a possibility, especially with a human. Feyre and Rhys could have been a fluke, for all we knew (until Nesta and Cassian), but at that time their bond wasn’t known, anyway.

We know from Rhys that faerie-human bonds are muffled, and he wasn’t certain that Feyre was his mate until after she was Made. Could Az have experienced the same thing? He’s been described as an “echo” of Rhys before, in terms of his power, but what if it’s also in terms of being mated to an Archeron sister?

It’s interesting to note that Cassian was grimacing, too, which could obviously be due to Nesta’s blunt words, but again: they are mates, and were drawn to each other from the start. Could Cassian, who - like Azriel - has surely dealt with far “worse” than a human not being a welcoming host (his experiences wouldn’t even be on the same page as Nesta with an attitude), have also felt something at this point?

In comparison, Rhys’ only reaction was to raise his eyebrows.

I don’t know. It could be nothing at all (I could be reading into it way too much), but it could also, potentially, beanother parallel between Azriel and Cassian, and their reactions to Elain and Nesta: like when they both went a bit still at seeing them at breakfast, or when they both reacted before each sister was threatened and thrown into the Cauldron, or when they both wanted to touch and taste and smell them, or when they have both been protective, or when they both made sure their wings were displayed to full effect in front of each sister, or when they both went on “certain death” missions for them, or when neither could stay away…

@elriel-month

Also worth reading: this post, by @merymoonbeam, which ties in really well with this particular crack theory.

My Son

As I write this, it saddens me to know that this is my last @elriel-month fic. This month went by so quickly, and there was such amazing content produced from it. I want to recognize all of the fantastic people who participated in Elriel Month, both in producing content and those who consistently like, comment, reblog, share, etc. the work that is produced. It’s been such a fun month, and a huge thank you to all of those who put it on. A lot of time, effort, and work goes on behind the scenes to keep these appreciation monthsrunning. Y'all are amazing.

Now on to the fic. This is part 2 of Little One. I’ve had this fic written for months and I’m super excited to share it with you. Please let me know your thoughts!

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, some descriptions of canon-typical violence, very minor adult descriptions

Word Count: 4,127

Elain sat at their kitchen table, a gurgling Rosalie tucked in the crook of her arm, Kaden sat across from her munching on some freshly baked pastries, cured meats, and sipping on fruit juice. A cup of tea rested against her palm as she smiled down at her son who happily hummed while eating his breakfast, bare feet kicking under his chair. It was just the three of them this morning, Azriel having been called away by their High Lord for an urgent meeting at nearly the crack of dawn.

He apologized profusely for not only waking her so early but also for having to leave her, to which he made up for with his head between her legs as the sun broke the horizon, casting an orange glow into their bedroom.

“How do you like your pastries, Kaden?” she asked, readjusting her swaddled daughter who had started to fuss in her arms. Though thoroughly sated, once the shadowsinger left their bed this morning, Elain knew she wasn’t going back to sleep and decided to get up and try out a new pastry recipe for breakfast.

The little Illyrian flashed her a big, toothy grin. “I wuv them, momma!” he shouted excitedly, crumbs smeared on his pink lips.

Elain couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at being called momma by him. It had taken quite a while for Kaden to grow comfortable in his new home. He had been living with them for right around five months now and had only begun calling her “momma” a few weeks ago. He had yet to bless Azriel with a fatherly name, much to his dismay, but they both knew that with Kaden’s early childhood ordeal, his attachment to Illyrian males would be a slow one. It would come, he just needed to be patient she assured him.

They also took introducing Kaden to his new family slowly, only allowing them over one at a time so as to not overwhelm him. Meeting Elain’s sisters and Mor went easily enough, but that wasn’t where they were concerned. Though Rhys was the High Lord and half Illyrian, Kaden was clearly more intimidated by Cassian’s larger stature and permanent presence of wings. The general, hoping to bond with the little one, proceeded to sit on the floor with their son for an hour and played with the stuffed bear he brought with him. It wasn’t until Nesta showed up looking for her husband that Cassian departed, happily receiving a shy hug on his one leg before he left.

“I’m glad, sweetie. Maybe next time I make them, you can help momma? Would you like to do that?”

Little hands hit the table in excitement. “Yes! Yes, pwease momma, can we?”

She smiled down at him with so much love. “Of course, baby.” Elain propped Rosalie on her shoulder, running a soothing hand down her back as the terrace door opened and her husband entered. “Look, Kaden. Daddy’s home. Why don’t you go get dressed now so we can head out soon?”

Despite not calling Azriel “daddy” yet, both he and Elain had decided to refer to each other by paternal names in hopes that it would encourage him to make the connection as to who he was to them, and who they were to him.

He was their son.

And they were his parents.

No matter the blood or lineage, nothing would change that.

“Okay!” He wiggled from his chair and made a mad dash from the table to his bedroom as the shadowsinger approached, a soft smile on his face watching Kaden run from the kitchen.

Azriel dropped a kiss to her lips, and then one to the top of Rosalie’s head, his fingers brushing her rogue wisps of curls. “Good morning, my little love,” he whispered.

She couldn’t help but smile at their daughter’s coo of greeting. “What did Rhys need you for so early this morning?” Elain asked as they began clearing the table of the breakfast spread.

Hazel eyes met her gaze and something twisted in her stomach at the worry she saw there. “There’s been a scuffle at one of the Illyrian camps,” he stated, setting dishes in the sink.

Elain’s brows furrowed. “How bad?”

“Rhys, Cassian, and I are about to head there to handle the situation.”

The inflection of his voice told her that there was information left unsaid. “There’s something else.”

Azriel huffed, leaning back against the counter. His strong arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s the camp that Kaden’s biological father is at.”

The thought of that awful male made Elain want to find her son, cradle him in her lap, and never let go. “Do you think we should be concerned?”

He ran a scarred hand through his inky locks. “He’s a camp Lord and we are within the twenty-four-hour window of the Blood Rite, which means he has magic and can winnow. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Those golden irises blazed in fury.

“Lorenzo didn’t want anything to do with him. Why would he be making a fuss now?” It didn’t make sense. That male lost any right to claim Kaden as his son when he dropped him off at that orphanage and didn’t come back. Elain had later learned that her son had been there going on a year now and the Lord hadn’t made a peep about his child. It was both heartbreak and rage that had warred within her at that knowledge.

The shadowsinger shrugged. “Maybe word got back to him that he was adopted?”

“He left him at an orphanage!” she hissed, patting Rosalie’s back when she started to squirm.

Azriel took a step closer to her, his hand touching the back of his daughter’s head. “I think it could be about who adopted him too,” he said a bit quietly.

Elain’s heart twisted. She knew what he was hinting at. That the camp Lord wouldn’t deem Az worthy enough to raise even a child he gave up. “If he believes you unworthy to love that boy then I’ll kill him myself.”

The corner of his lips turned up briefly. “I will never stop being grateful for your devotion to me, my love.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I know you don’t like to be sidelined and that you can protect yourself, but I think you and the kids should stay away from Illyria today. I just—” a frustrated hand ran through his hair. “I can help but worry that the scuffle at the camp is to pull me away from you three at the orphanage.”

“Az,” she breathed, reaching out to grip his forearm, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his tanned, tattooed skin. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.

He ducked his head. “Of course, I’m scared. He’s my son. Our son. I will do anything to protect him, Rosalie, and you.”

Elain nodded in agreement. “We don’t take chances here, not when it comes to our children. If you think there’s a risk with the three of us going to the camps, no matter how small, we won’t go. I won’t put our babies in danger.”

Her husband let out a sigh of relief, tugging her and Rosalie into his arms. He kissed her softly, conveying all his love and emotion for her and their little family from his lips. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Feyre said she has a morning class with some younger children at the studio today and that you’re more than welcome to bring Kaden by to paint.”

“I think he would like that. Maybe we’ll take a stroll through the Rainbow and the park by the Sidra, too.”

It was rare to see the Night Court spymaster drop all his masks and show his true self. A male so full of love, joy, and devotion. But since the birth of Rosalie, and the adoption of Kaden, Elain had seen it more and more on Azriel’s face. It was her favorite look on him, one he tended to wear when he fed and rocked his little girl to sleep, or when he’d peek in on his son as he slept, checking to make sure he was okay. It was the same look he wore now.  

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Padded feet tore down the hallway and slid into the kitchen. Both parents turned to look at a disheveled Kaden.

“Azweel! Can you but-tin my wing slots, pweeze?”

A low chuckle rumbled from Azriel’s chest as he stepped out of her embrace. “Sure buddy, come here.”

Kaden’s undeveloped magic prevented him from being able to button the flaps of his shirt around his wings alone. He’d be able to eventually, but for now, either she or Az would have to help him, not that they minded.

“Wings up,” Azriel said, reaching underneath the membranes to snap the flaps together.

“Where are your shoes?” Elain asked, once his shirt was secured.

Little, tanned toes fluttered on the stone floor. “By the door, momma.”

Her husband helped Kaden tug on his shoes as Elain secured a now sleeping Rosalie to her chest, allowing both her arms to be free. It was a wrap that Feyre swore by when she had Nyx, and Elain was inclined to agree. Having both arms available while she ran errands was indeed a lifesaver.

After explaining the change of plans to Kaden, he reached up and took Azriel’s ring and pinky finger in his small hand. “Are you coming with us?”

Her husband knelt, “Sorry, buddy. Uncle Rhys needs daddy’s help right now.”

Kaden’s lower lip jutted out in a way that Elain knew Azriel struggled to say no to. Even now, she could see the war of his vow to his High Lord and the need to protect his son dance across his face with his desire to stay with them.

He cleared his throat. “Tell you what; as soon as I’m finished with your uncle, I’ll meet up with you guys and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. How does that sound?”

The little Illyrian brightened, and he shouted in glee.

Az tugged him to his chest, kissing him on the top of his black hair. “I’ll see you later, son. I love you.”

“I wuv you too, Azweel.”

He stood, turning back to her.

“Be safe,” Elain said lowly enough to not let Kaden overhear them.

Az nodded. “I will. I’ll come home as soon as I can.” He slid a hand to her jaw to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them, then pecked the top of Rosalie’s head. “I love you,” he whispered to them both, before vanishing into the shadows.

Elain’s stomach turned restlessly. Something about the whole situation still didn’t feel right, but she would stay strong for both her husband and her son. Swallowing her nerves, she took Kaden’s hand to make their way into the bustling streets of Velaris.

~~~

The three of them strolled through the park along the glittering waters of the Sidra River having finished their painting session earlier and a delicious lunch at a small café moments ago. Kaden’s painting was sitting at Feyre’s studio, which Elain was to go pick up in a few days once it was dry. It was mostly strokes of colors and handprints, but she still thought it was the most beautiful artwork, biased or not.

Warm rays of the sun beat down on them, bringing about a flush of color on her skin and the golden hues on both of her children’s darker complexions.

Kaden had taken off, chasing after a colorful butterfly.

Elain followed the sounds of his giggles. “Stay close, Kaden!” she called when he got a bit too far for her comfort.

Ever the good listener, he rounded back towards her, stopping to look at a small coping of rose bushes. “Look, momma! Woses!” he shouted, the r sound still coming out like a w. It was something they were working on with him.

“Yes, they are, good job!” she said back, stopping beneath a shaded tree for some much-needed cooling. Kaden had taken to her garden and she took the time to teach him the names of the various plants and flowers she was growing.

Elain placed a hand on the top of Rosalie’s head, feeling the warmth of it. It was an unusually balmy spring day, one that predicted the early onset of summer.

A blip on the horizon caught her eye. She watched it as it came closer, membranous wings flapping to send it hurtling through the sky towards her.

Elain’s head cocked as she studied the movement, so unlike her husband’s elegance, Cassian’s strong presence, or even Rhys’s regal grace. Brown eyes widened as she realized who, exactly, was flying towards her.

Towards her son.

She was moving then. “Kaden!” she screamed, “Kaden, come here, right now!”

At his mother’s distressed voice, he turned, running towards her.

With a hand holding onto the back of Rosalie, Elain cradled Kaden’s head and shoved him behind her just as the Illyrian male slammed into the ground in front of them. She felt the impact through her feet.

The park was fairly empty, but the few fae present took off at the sight of the unknown Illyrian, leaving her utterly alone with him.

Kaden’s fists gripped the skirts of her lilac dress, and though every instinct in her told her never to back down from a threat, she would not risk it with both of her children in the line of fire. Elain stepped back, moving her son with her.

The male, a version of what her son may one day have features of, savagely grinned down at her. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones with a long nose. His hair was worn similar to how Cassian kept his, but a shade or two lighter. He wasn’t as large as her husband, she realized. Az had him beat by several inches and his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. But even with that knowledge, everything about the male in front of her screamed warrior.

Dangerous.

Threat.

Her magic rumbled in her chest in response. The siphon on her ring flared once, throwing up a thin barrier between them and him—Azriel’s magic sealed away for when she needed it. The shadow that adorned her finger as a wedding band vanished.

“So,” he drawled, sounding utterly bored. “I finally get to meet the pretty, little pet that has captured the heart of the bastard-born shadowsinger.”

Elain snarled at the taunt. “Watch your tongue, Lorenzo,” she snapped.

That malicious grin grew. “And you’ve heard of me. Perfect. Hand over my son, and I’ll be on my way.”

She angled herself, shielding Kaden further behind her. “He is not your son. Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you flap your way back to where you came from.”

The smirk faded and something far deadlier took its place. “My blood runs through his veins—”

“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” she spat, vehemently. “You lost your right to claim him when you left him at that orphanage. Kaden is mine and Azriel’s son. Now and forever.”

“If you think I’m going to let you and that pathetic excuse of an Illyrian raise—”

Her blood raged like a weathered storm. One that toppled the largest of ships and swept armies into the depths of the sea. Her magic responded in kind, light bursting out of her and shoving him back a step. His eyes widened at the surprise drop she got on him. “That pathetic excuse of an Illyrian is a thousand times more of a male than you could ever dream of being. And if you say one more thing like that about my husband, I will gut you here in this park.”

The red siphon flickered on his chest in response to her attack. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” he demanded, voice edging dangerously close to levels Elain knew meant he was about to lose his temper.

She curled the corner of her mouth up. “A low-level camp lord with a single siphon? Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” She threw as much disdain in her voice as she could muster. “I think the better question is, do you know who you’re speaking to?” At his silence, she grinned. “Cauldron-blessed Seer. The Mother reincarnated. And what are you here doing? Trying to take a child away from his mother. Believe me when I say I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ll end you and your brat if need be,” he countered, taking a step forward to try and intimidate her.

But Elain had felt another’s presence as he neared. Saw in her peripheral vision the dark swath of shadows above their heads. “You hurt me or my daughter, you take my son, and I can promise you that you won’t make it out of Velaris alive.”

Before he could respond, a solid mass of muscle and wings dropped from the sky, forcing Lorenzo to take a step back lest he wanted to be smashed beneath Azriel’s large frame. Her husband’s knees bent as he landed, absorbing the impact. As he stood to his full height, his wings stretched out, blocking her and their children from the other male’s view.

The ground shook from his landing, and Elain felt Kaden push himself further into her legs. She brushed her thumb over the back of his head, hoping to soothe him with her touch.

“Get back,” Azriel growled, voice colder than what he used as the Night Court spymaster. Shadows skittered out, flitting around her and the kids, searching for any signs of injury. When they finished their assessment, they turned their attention back on Lorenzo, swirling like shards of ice, pushing him back, back, back. “Stay away from myson.”

“He is not your son.”

“We adopted him. We took him into our home. We fed him, and clothed him, and loved him. He is as much our son as our daughter is and nobody is going to take that away from us.” He took several steps forward, forcing the male backward again.

With the added space between them, Elain felt the shield in front of her reinforce itself.

“Momma,” Kaden croaked through the plaits of her skirts. Large tears filled his hazel eyes.

Her hand swept through his hair. “It’s okay, Kaden. You’re safe.” She pulled him closer to her hip, letting her other hand come down to rest protectively on his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over his dark lashes.

Kaden buried his face back into swaths of her dress.

Thunder cracked like two boulders crashing together.

Elain’s head snapped to the side to see Rhys step out of rolling darkness, decked in his full Illyrian leathers. His lack of normal attire told her he had come ready for bloodshed.

“Lorenzo,” the High Lord drawled. “You’re far from home.”

The other Illyrian, seeing he was now outnumbered, grew even more furious. “I came to take what was is mine,” he fumed, reaching back for the sword sheathed across his back.

“He is not some object for you to collect,” Az stated furiously.

“He is mine,” the Lord shot back.

Azriel tensed, glancing back at her and then looking down at Kaden who was peeking at them behind her skirts.

Elain saw his hand twitch for the legendary dagger strapped to his thigh, but he didn’t grab it.

He returned his gaze to Lorenzo. “I’m not going to end your life here, no matter that you deserve it. My son has already seen enough bloodshed in his short life because of you. I won’t add to that.”

The camp Lord just smiled, “Then you’re only going to make him as weak as you are.” And then he struck, the Illyrian metal singing as it aimed for a killing blow—decapitation.

Seven blue siphons flared. Lorenzo went flying backward, his sword ripped from his hand by shadows.

“Daddy!”

“Kaden!” Elain screamed, reaching out to try and stop the little Illyrian from running into the fray, but it was too late.

His little legs carried him fast over the ground and Azriel barely had a chance to whip around before a little body tackled him. “Daddy!” he cried again, clutching at his leathers with small fists.

A blue shield shot up, enclosing her husband and her son in a protective barrier. He wasted no time lifting Kaden into his arms, a scarred hand threading through his black tresses to hold him close.

Tiny arms went around his neck as Kaden pressed his damp face above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpered into his shoulder.

Azriel moved his hand from the back of his head to between his wings, rubbing strokes like he would when his son would wake with nightmares. “You’re not going anywhere, Kaden. Nobody is taking you from us.” He kissed the side of his head, allowing a few minutes to comfort his son.

Elain’s heart ached, wanting to go to them, but also not wanting to let a second child get too close to Lorenzo’s unhinged state again.

Azriel nodded towards her, assuring her that their son was safe.

It sent a wave of relief rushing through her.

He turned, finding Rhys hauling Lorenzo to his feet.

The disgust on the Illyrian male’s face at her husband holding their son made her hackles rise, enough so that her magic rumbled in response. She dampened it, not wanting to wake her daughter that somehow had stayed asleep through everything so far.

The look of the spymaster replaced Az’s hardened features. “I granted you a chance to walk away. I want you to remember that when your High Lord winnows you back to the camp to face him and your general. But if you come after my family again, you even have thoughts about my son, your life is forfeited.” Azriel gave his brother a curt nod, watching as the High Lord and Lorenzo winnowed away.

Shields lowered and both parents were striding for each other. Tears pricked her eyes as her husband embraced her and Rosalie with one arm, still holding Kaden in his other. Scarred fingers found her jaw, tilting her head up to bring their mouths together in a desperate kiss, needing to feel her presence. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes darting to check over their daughter.

“We’re fine,” she breathed, her hand reaching up to lay it on Kaden’s lower back, rubbing it. She glanced back up at her husband’s face, seeing a look of awe that had settled there.

He called me daddy, he mouthed at her, silver lining his eyes. He had been waiting for Kaden’s willingness to grace him with that name—had been getting antsy for it.

Elain let out a choked sound, gripping her husband’s wrist with her other hand. I know, she mouthed back.

Kaden twisted his head, propping his cheek on Azriel’s shoulder, his arms were still wrapped around his neck.

The shadowsinger dropped a kiss to his forehead as Elain let her nails scratch at his back. “I was going to suggest we go get a frozen treat after our walk,” she started, catching her son’s eyes. There was a far-off look that she didn’t like seeing. “Does that sound good to you, Kaden?”

The little Illyrian nodded, though he gave no vocal response.

It worried her, his unwillingness to speak. They had broken through so many barriers in getting him to open up after he came home with them—she hated the idea of this setting him back. “Do you want to see if daddy can join us?” she tried, seeing how he clung to his father, though she knew Az had no intentions of leaving them alone.

Not for a while.

She also knew Az was well aware of what she was trying to do too.

Kaden was silent for a moment, but both parents waited patiently, giving him the time to voice his thoughts. “Can you, daddy?” he finally whispered.

The shadowsinger visibly hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Of course, we can,” he choked out. The emotional vulnerability rang clear in his voice. Lifting Kaden higher up on his hip, Azriel took Elain’s hand in his scarred one and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.

Her heart swelled. Resting a hand on the back of a still sleeping Rosalie, the family of four strolled through the park and spent the rest of the day enjoying treats and each other’s company.

~~~~~

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daisybrekker:

Elriel Comic

Credits to @/bottle_of_rum_art on Instagram

Why Azriel’s shadows vanishing is a good thing

Azriel uses them to hide his emotions, therefore without them, he’s more open:

• Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much.
• In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear.More… human than I had ever seen him.
• The lurking shadows vanished entirely as Azriel’s head dipped a bit – his night-dark hair sliding over his handsome face as if to shield him from that mercilessly beautiful grin.

The shadows mainly show up when Azriel feels negative emotions:

• Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmedhim.
• I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight.
• The shadows coiled around him, snakes ready to strike.
• No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.
• Azriel, his face a mask of beautiful death, silently promised them all endless, unyielding torment, even the shadows shuddering in his wake.

His shadows were born from his trauma as a child, therefore it can be presumed that they’re mostly present as a form of protection so he doesn’t need them around Elain as he feels safe with her:

• His shadows were different. Born in alightless, airless prison meant to break him. Instead, he had learned its language.

The shadows have disappeared when Azriel showed eagerness to spend time with Elain:

• “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand.

A sign of Elain’s happiness lit them up:

• “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room.

Characters with shadow powers from SJM’s other series were shown to be relaxed/comfortable when their shadows vanished:

• Bryce might have replied, but the shadows on Cormac’s arms faded. His broad shoulders relaxed. Then he stalked to the dining table and sat. His eyes were clearer—calmer.
• Every movement was stiff, shadows whispering around him. But the prince exhaled and the shadows, the tension, vanished.

etrefin:

House of Wind in Lunathion Series (1/5)

Agent Azriel, the Shadowsinger

Art by @Artyventurer on twt

Reposts are NOT allowed at all.

Part 2/Part 3

Azriel, getting up from a nap:

Thank you, sleep.

Azriel:

Or as I call you, Death Practice.