#azriel x oc

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 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.

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