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.

selillusion:

i can’t be the only one who’s anti gwynriel and elriel i want that man for myself. idc.

snelbz:

Frantic Whispers {NSFW Elriel}

Heyo, it’s another tag team prompt with @tacmc that turned into smut! (How does this keep happening?)

Based on an anonymous prompt:

Elriel. Something wakes Azriel from a nightmare. As he listens, the shadows tell him it’s Elain. He follows the sound of her whispering his name into the dark all the way to her room. As fluffy, angsty or smutty as you please. Or all three! Please and thank you.

The storm that was rolling across the Illyrian mountains was nothing like anything Azriel had ever seen. It was as if he was watching a wall of dark clouds overtake and destroy everything he’d always known, yet despised. He was almost content to turn his back and not intervene, when he saw the two distant figures flying into the darkness.

He yelled, “RHYSAND!” and dove for him, but it was too late. Both he and Cassian were lost to the wind and he wasn’t sure how they would-.

Keep reading

Umm I’m just gonna leave this here you’re welcome

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: some suggestive comments

Note: I’M BACK. To the people who have been waiting a looong time for me to update this fic, thank you for your support and sorry to keep you waiting. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER FIVE

It was eleven fifty-four when a pair of guards showed up to take the next watch. Silently and swiftly, you incapacitated them with your daemati gifts and Az dragged their unconscious bodies away from the castle, deeper into the woods where they would not be found or wake up for hours. But before Azriel carried them off, you studied their features long enough to weave a quick glamour spell to place over yourself and Azriel. 

Your heart pounded as you climbed the steps to the castle’s eastern tower, where the guards from the current shift were waiting. You silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that they wouldn’t notice anything amiss. Earlier when you asked Azriel why you couldn’t just knock these guards out as well, he explained that someone would surely notice their absence in the castle. So, you begrudgingly agreed to his insane plan. 

You let Azriel walk slightly ahead of you as you neared the top of the stairs. Then the most peculiar thing happened, Azriel suddenly changed his walk, favoring his right leg and carrying his weight lower. He wore a bored but content expression that took over his previously grave demeanor. You had to stop yourself from gawking because you were now approaching the other two guards. 

“Davenport. Alston.” He greeted each guard by name with a nod of his head. They returned the nod before walking past to leave us to start the next watch. You waited until you were sure they were gone to drop the glamour and then punched Azriel in the arm. 

“Ow, that hurt.” You were sure it didn’t. In fact, your knuckles were likely suffering much more than his thickly muscled bicep. 

“You should take up acting. I’ve seen theatre performances less convincing than what you just did. And I’m sure everyone would appreciate that face on the stage.” And you did not lie, the shift in physicality was alarming, but very impressive. You could have sworn he blushed at the compliment.

He shrugged it off, “Centuries of sneaking and spying will teach you a few things.” The little smile at the corners of his lips was nearly enough to make you swoon. You even caught a flash of dimples for a split second. But, then his face returned to its grave stoicness. “We should continue.”

You shook off the stupor caused by his unearthly beauty and nodded. This was not the time for swooning. You headed towards the castle and just before entering, you dropped your glamours and Az shrouded you both in his shadows. In the dark and dank castle, you barely saw anyone walking about. And those who you did see paid you no mind, the shadows easily concealed you both in the dimly lit space, and you both made no sound as you slinked through the halls. 

You reached out with your gifts and laid a metaphysical hand on the fortified walls of Azriel’s mind, and then caressed it, running your nails down the surface. You could have sworn his steps faltered for a moment before he let you in.

‘So, what exactly am I looking for here?,’ you spoke in Az’s mind. 

‘I have no idea. But, you should know it when you see it, or rather feel it.’ Your brows furrowed. How the hell were you supposed to find something you didn’t even know what you were looking for? But suddenly, you felt the telltale crackling of magic in the air, it was faint, but you knew what it had to be. You halted your footsteps and Az stopped beside you. You stopped in front of a tapestry, feeling the buzz of magic grow stronger as you approached it. You laid your hand on the intricate designs, it was just an ordinary tapestry, nothing special. You moved it aside and found nothing but a wall behind it. 

Your eyes narrowed on a particular brick in the wall, it was slightly more worn than the rest. Taking a chance, you pushed on the stone, which gave in and sunk a few inches into the wall. A panel slid back with a soft click to reveal a dark hallway.

You and Az shared a wary look before slipping through the opening. Through some sort of mechanism or enchantment, the torches on the walls lit themselves with a soft whoosh, illuminating a long and narrow hall. You and Azriel whirled around as you heard the door behind you close with a soft thud, and upon inspection you couldn’t find any way to get back out. You supposed it didn’t matter since you had to go onward anyway. With a shrug that was much too casual for the situation, Azriel led the way. 

Your steps were the only thing you heard as you treaded down the dark passage. The air was thick with anticipation for the trap that was likely soon to come. 

“Remember what I told you,” Az murmured and you nodded silently. Back at the inn, Azriel told you about what kind of traps to expect. There was one where the ground crumbled beneath your feet, opening to reveal jagged rocks meters below. That would be easy enough to bypass with your wings. There were a few more but even so, the passage that Az infiltrated had since been closed off. Who knew what was waiting for you in this one?

You were drawn out of your thoughts by a soft hissing that filled the air. Before you knew it, a thick fog began to seep through the ridges in the dark brick walls. You both froze. What was this? An attempt to blind you? But then your nostrils were met with the foul, sharp scent of something chemical. Az reached out to touch the fog but then quickly drew back with a hiss, his skin starting to blister.

“Hold your breath!” you managed to shout before holding your own. With your magic, you summoned a current of air to keep the fog away from you and Azriel. As you sprinted further into the tunnel, the whirlwind of air pushed the fog past you and back the way you came. You finally reached an area without toxic fog pumping through the walls and slowed down, releasing your breath. 

“You didn’t tell me about that one,” you said as you huffed for air. 

“I would’ve if I had known,” he replied, though not nearly as winded as you, “Quick thinking by the way, that was a very smart move with the wind magic.”

You tried but failed to not blush under his praise, not meeting his eyes. You felt his hand under your chin, raising your face towards his own. You couldn’t help but swoon a little under his intense gaze. 

“I love to make you blush,” he spoke softly with his lips so close to yours, “And I’ll remember how much you love praise for later.” 

You didn’t know it was possible, but you felt your cheeks grow even warmer. Speechless and most likely gaping like a fish out of water, you backed away from his grasp (even though it was the last thing you wanted to do).

“Not the time, Az.” you murmured and turned on your heel to continue your trudge down the passage, but he easily caught up to you. Damn his long legs. 

“I know,” he said, “that’s why I said I’d remember it for later.” You scoffed in disbelief but before you could retort with a witty comeback, the passage ended. A large wooden and metal door stood in front of you. You knew that if you used force to break it down, the noise would draw attention. So you paced your palm over the lock and used your magic to feel for the mechanism within. Once you figured out how it worked you shifted the pins inside and put your other hand on the knob, which turned with a soft click. 

But before you could push the heavy door open, Az laid a hand over yours, making you pause. He pointed to your forehead and in response, you opened up your mind to him. 

‘I think the beast is behind this door. Let me go in first.’ he said in your mind. You nodded and stepped aside. Soundlessly, you followed him into the large space. It was dark but fairly large and very tall. The underground cavern was lit only by a moderately sized skylight high above the ground. But in the center of the room, lay an enormous sleeping wyvern. It was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Its scales were marred with scars and scratches but sunlight glinted off of its dark black surface. A heavy iron collar was clamped onto its neck and chained the creature to a nearby wall. 

You immediately summoned your magic, manipulating the air around you and Az so that no sound or smells could reach the wyvern, rendering you both invisible in all ways but sight. Skirting around its enormous body, you made your way to the huge door behind it. The door stood at least twice as tall as a normal door and much wider. There must be a serious arsenal of weapons or something on the other side. You soundlessly unlocked this door with magic in the same way as the last one. 

But when you stepped through, what you didn’t expect to be on the other side was another wyvern, only this one was wide awake and glaring at you with bright yellow eyes. You were so shocked that you lost your grip on the air spell, so its snarl was definitely audible to the sleeping wyvern, who promptly shot to its feet in alarm behind you. It let out a deafening roar and then charged towards the door. You had to make a split second decision. Which angry wyvern did you want to deal with first? You decided to take your chances with the seemingly less violent one. You used your magic to slam the huge door shut and lock it just as the huge beast on the other side rammed into the splintering wood. You could hear its muffled growls from the other side and the cavern shook from the force of it trying to break down the door. You could only hope that the door would hold. 

You and Azriel spun around to face the other wyvern in the much smaller space. It was backed against the farthest side of the room, eyeing you with rage and fear. But strangely, it was not trying to attack either of you. 

“Is it injured?” Az asked, “Why isn’t it attacking us?”

“I don’t think it’s hurt.” At least it didn’t seem so. “I think it’s guarding something. But it doesn’t look like any secret weapon could be behind it. Unless it’s a lot smaller than we thought,” you pondered aloud. Hesitantly you took a step towards it. 

Azriel’s hand shot out to seize your wrist. “What are you doing?” he asked bewildered.

“Look at it Az. It’s terrified. I have to try to help it.” You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the creature.

“Help it? It probably wants to eat you. Don’t you remember what it’s friend did to me last time? What it’s trying to do again?”

Of course you couldn’t forget, you healed the consequences of their last encounter yourself and could still feel the ground shaking from it trying to break through the door. But, you pulled away from Az’s grip anyway and warily walked towards the beast.

Another low warning growl rumbled through its chest. You reached out to it with your mind. 

‘Please, we’re trying to help you.’ you tried to reason with it.

‘HELP? ALL HUMANS DO IS CAPTURE AND ENSLAVE US!’ it snarled in your mind.

‘But we’re not human, we’re fae. Please,’ you said, ‘let us help you. You’ve been in the mortal world far too long. Let us take you home. To Prythian.’

The beast paused and cocked its head at that. 

‘PRYTHAN…,’ it purred, ‘I HAVEN’T SEEN PRYTHIAN SINCE WE WERE TAKEN DECADES AGO.’ It paused again. ‘CAN YOU REALLY TAKE US HOME?’ 

‘Yes,’ you assured it, ‘but we need you to show us the weapon you’ve been protecting.’

The beast considered it for a moment, still not knowing if it could trust you. But then you sensed something shift in its mind. It figured that taking this risk with you would be better than staying in this prison as a slave to the humans. It rose from its crouched position against the wall and stepped to the side, revealing a makeshift bed of sorts, made of hay and blankets. No, not a bed, a nest. In the center of which sat three shining onyx eggs. 

Author’s Note: I wrote this chapter in a short lived burst of inspiration and productivity, so it’s unedited oops. And I know this chapter was all plot but I promise there will be more smut to come ;). If you liked this, please show your support by liking, commenting, and reblogging and all that good stuff. If you wanna to be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

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Azriel x Reader

Summary: You find yourself at Feyre’s gallery and you are enamored by a painting of a certain someone…

Warnings:None

Word Count: 551

_________________________________________

You don’t know how you found yourself here, standing in front of the most beautiful painting you’d ever seen: each stroke its own story, the colors of the oil vivid and vibrant. There’s something about it that has goosebumps rising up your arms, the dark onyx contrasting with the bright cobalt swirls, like lightning in a dark sky.

You had been doing some shopping around the Rainbow when you passed by a new gallery with a showing, open for anyone to enjoy. You didn’t hesitate, as a lover of the arts yourself you loved to support other creators within the town. You yearned to be able to paint like this, every illustration so thought out, it was like you were there.

You are completely entranced, scouring over every element. You don’t know why you feel so drawn to this one, as there were a plethora of other gorgeous paintings, but this, the detailing, the dark coloring of the photo, still able to make out the sharp features of the subject, the colored stones shining, casting a blue glow on those broad wings, his hazel eyes staring straight into your soul, devastatingly handsome.

You don’t even notice someone stepping up next to you. He admired his friend’s work, surprised at how he was portrayed in this painting. This was how everyone saw him, a strong and powerful entity, not to be fucked with, but not who he was deep down. No, he craved someone to show his true self to. His friends and family knew a little, but even he hadn’t been able to fully open up to them in the five hundred years he had been alive.

He takes notice – of course he does – his shadows whispering about the pretty female stood next to him. He peeked at you from the corner of his eye and his heart stuttered in his chest. His shadows had never steered him wrong. His hand finds the butt of his knife, an instinct that calms him slightly. He can’t look away from you and you can’t look away from the painting of him, completely entranced by the look in his eyes. If only you would look to your side, so he can see those gorgeous eyes looking so carefully at the painting looking at him.

And the longer you don’t look the more nervous he is, because he wants to talk to you, wants to figure out the unknown draw he feels to you. You are a color he has never seen before, and one that he wants to see everyday, brightening his life in the best possible way.

And a tickle on your neck, hair fluttering in the gentle breeze has you reaching for the strand and tucking it behind your ear as you turn, breath catching in your throat at the sight before you. It’s him, from the painting, looking at you with soft eyes and time seems to still, everyone around you disappearing as a strange feeling tugs at your heart.

You swear you can see it, a tendril of his soul – cobalt blue like the stones adorning his body, exactly like the ones in the painting – reaching out to your own, colliding in a burst of colors more beautiful than any painting in the room.

Your mate. He is your mate.

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris finds you and Azriel in a compromising position before the High Lord’s meeting…or maybe he was asked to find you.

Warnings: SMUT! Threesome.

Word Count:1,684

_________________________________________

Youdefinitely didn’t have time for this.

But was that going to stop you and Azriel?

Absolutely not.

An important meeting with all of the High Lord’s was due to start in an hour’s time and your mate – sneaky thing he is – had seduced you easily, claiming that it was your fault for looking so devastatingly good all dressed up for the gathering.

He smirks as he hears footsteps headed your way, a familiar arrogant stalk through the halls. He had sent word for the male to come early, to speak of the alliance shared between the two courts. 

Your legs are wrapped around Azriel’s trim waist as he pushes in agonizingly slowly, causing you to arch off of the hardwood desk, head falling lax over the edge, throat exposed to your mate who takes advantage of the unmarked skin, nipping and sucking his name into your neck. Your moan is absolutely sinful and it rings through the newcomer’s ears, his bones rattling with it as he halts in place, at the sight of you and the spymaster in this compromising position.

Azriel lifts his head from your throat, his harsh breath sending shivers across your wet skin. His eyes are filled with arousal, pupils blown wide as he smirks up at the autumn princeling. His fingertips dig into your hips harsher, your legs clenching tighter around him, each digit forming bruises in their wake. 

The shadowsinger could admit to the obvious beauty of the autumn native, with his silky auburn hair, styled to perfection atop his head, his angular features, perfectly proportional on his face, pink lips and rosy cheeks like the winter wind of the Night Court was a touch too harsh for his delicate porcelain skin.

Azriel has to bite back the wicked grin tugging at his lips as he sees Eris not as that arrogant, cocky, purebred royal, but as a stunned, confused, and aroused heir to the throne.

You seemed to have that effect on lots of males.

Your prolonged keen ends, plunging the room into silence. Azriel’s not moving and you’ll be damned if he’s on another one of his edging sprees. You don’t have the time, the meeting with all of the High Lords will be starting soon. 

Opening your mouth to complain to your mate you swear instead, peeking your eyes open only to catch sight of Eris Vanserra, eyes glued to the scene before him, his cock throbbing in his tight riding pants.

You swing your head up, glaring at Azriel, about to reprimand him but a quick jerk of his hips has you melting back into the desk, eyes rolling back in your head, mouth open in a quiet gasp.

He looks down at you, kissing you to draw your attention back to him, a silent question in his eyes, whether this is something you want to do or not. A single bob of your head and his gaze darkens. His lips drag down your body as he stands to his full height, commanding your attention as he speaks, “I don’t want to hear another males name out of your pretty fucking mouth except for mine, you hear?” 

Your pussy throbs at the sheer assertiveness in his voice and you exhale harshly, “Yes.”

The shadowsinger looks down to the male standing stock still in the doorway. “It seems like my mate needs her mouth full,” Az says, a slight smirk on his face as he watches Eris with a predatory glint in his eyes. His delicate touch snakes up your torso, tweaking one of your nipples as he speaks and your mouth opens with an inviting gasp.

The early morning autumn frost in Eris’ amber eyes melts away into fiery desire as he stalks closer, joining you and your mate near the desk. He can’t stop looking at your parted lips, mouth open in a perfect ‘o,’ waiting for him to stick his cock into.

He glances at the shadowsinger once more, an unsure look in his eyes. But you have made up your mind and your mate will respect that, nodding slightly to the lordling. You watch upside down as he unbuckles his pants hastily, fingers fumbling with the brass clasp. Az starts moving, agonizingly slowly, pulling out and then pushing back in. The drag of his cock is incredible and you hum in approval, eyes fluttering shut.

Azriels hips stutter when Eris unsheathes his impressive cock from his trousers. You jolt as he presses the tip against your lips, sweeping across your mouth until you poke your tongue out, getting your first taste of him.

Eris releases a shaky exhale as you tongue over his slit. He’s already hard and throbbing, the sight of the stunning mate of the shadowsinger arched so beautifully, your sounds like a symphony of euphoria. 

“Open up,” Azriel croons, hazel eyes lit with intrigue. He’s burning with envy as your mouth falls open, accepting the autumn males cock like you were made for it, Eris’ grunt ignites something within him. He’s a jealous male through and through, but for you, he’d do anything.

So he busies himself by making you feel good the way he knows how. He fucks into you, hands gripping you like a lifeline, the sound of you choking on Eris’ cock spurring him to move faster.

Your guest seems to be in a trance, looking down at you like a deity brought to his doorstep. He licks his lips as you work, skilled tongue swirling around his prick sensually. All he wants to do is grab your head in his hands a fuck into your mouth with abandon, the urge like lightening underneath his skin.

Azriel’s answering growl has you shuddering against the table, walls clenching tighter around him, cutting his warning off with a hiss instead, pulling you further onto his cock. His shadows snake around Eris’ wrists as he moves to grasp your throat, pinning them harshly to the desk, keeping them away from you. 

Each thrust from your mate sends you further up the shaft of the Autumn heir. His balls slap against your face and it’s arousing to feel that heavy weight in your mouth and pounding into you at the same time. Choking on his length, your gurgling and gagging has him nearing his edge.

Eris is stuck watching how well you take his cock, his hands chained to the desk. He glares up at the shadowsinger, eyes hungry and wild with annoyance, but he exhales sharply when you do something wicked with your tongue, head hanging between his lithe shoulders as his abdomen contorts with pleasure, trying to hold himself back as long as he can.

The pure machismo in the air is electrifying and it makes you throb with pleasure, the feeling licking up your spine as you writhe, clenching around your mates prick while you mouth at Eris’ cock, gasping for a half-breath when he pulls out far enough. You claw at the desk in pleasure, wishing it were one of their flesh instead, the smooth surface unsatisfying to your scrambling fingers.

Azriel lifts one of your legs upwards, sinking in deeper and the new position has that familiar fire in your abdomen raging hot like you’re branding both males. Your mate feels your pleasure, a warm glow coiling in his own gut, and his wings flare wide as he tosses his head back, biting back all of the sounds he wants to make because he doesn’t want the son of a Lord of a different court hearing him at his weakest.

He lasts longer than Eris, who burns through Azriel’s shadows with ease, the smell of burned wood hitting the back of your throat before he does one last time, pulling out of your mouth and wrapping a hand around himself. He comes with a grunt, ribbons of his orgasm painting across your mouth, chin, dancing down the column of your throat. Your lips are red and swollen and you look every bit of well fucked as you come undone yourself, your moan ragged as your orgasm ripps through your body, clenching around your mate, pushing him into the brink of climax.

Heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. You whine when Azriel slowly pulls out, but then he’s leaning over you and tenderly swiping up some of Eris’ come with his tongue, then presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Then he’s back to his act of the spymaster of the Night Court, all mighty and powerful as he straightens, wings flaring in warning as he stares down the Autumn male with a glare.

“Get yourself cleaned up Eris,” Azriel says to the dazed male, sated with his orgasm. “And stop looking at my mate like that.”

__________

You’d barely made it to the meeting. Az had fucked you again in the washing room after Eris had left, as he wanted no trace of the Autumn Court male left on you when he was finished, lest someone scent him on you at the meeting. You could only grin to yourself at his response, your jealous mate would always remind you who fucked you better.

You slip into your seat next to Cassian while avoiding all eye contact with the autumn royal who just had his cock stuffed down your throat. 

The general is about to greet you when he catches a whiff of your scent, choking on a laugh as he leans forward to look around you to Azriel who is sitting on your other side. The spymaster  growls low in warning and Cassian puts his hands up in surrender, a feline smile pulling at his mouth as he leans back into his seat.

Your cheeks burn and you slouch slightly in your seat before remembering who you serve. Straightening your posture one of Azreil’s shadows swirls around your ear, carrying whispers of reassurance and affirmations that make you relax slightly.

Until Cassian leans down close to you as Beron starts his speech, mumbling amusedly in your ear, “We might just be able to sway the Autumn Court yet, (Y/N).”

Truth-Teller and Soul-Stealer

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Um….I don’t want to give any thing away, so I’m not writing a summary for this one.

Warnings:None.

Word Count: 6,342

Notes: Well, I said it once but I’ll say it again: TYSM for 1,000 followers! I love every second of this blog. This one is dedicated to each and every single one of you! 

P.S. This is my FAVORITE fic I’ve written so far. It is immaculate. I surprised even myself :)

_________________________________________

Your body falls lax against the chair. The iron chains won’t budge as you give up trying to tear your arms free, sweat dripping down your neck into the collar of your torn shirt. The metal bites at your raw wrists: stinging, bloody, and mangled from trying to pry them off.

Their startling iciness had been part of the reason that kept you awake since you had been captured. And since there were no windows, you were unsure of just how long you’d been in there. From the utter exhaustion you felt, it had to be more than a few days.

Every time you wanted to sleep, you were jolted awake by that feeling you had become accustomed to during your time here: claws scraping against your mental shields like nails on a chalkboard, shaking you to your very core.

But you would not yield, no matter what.

Chest heaving with effort, you squint around the cell again although you’re sure you’ve looked for every possible escape, for anything that could give you leverage against your Night Court captors.

Nothing. Not a damn thing in this room that looks as if it is carved out of a mountain. You had no idea where you were, a blindfold having been tied around your eyes after a fairly equal fight, only hours after you crossed into Night Court territory.

They were quick, sending out a winged male to come capture you, an easy smile on his face when he saw you, thinking you posed no threat.

He’d clearly been wrong.

You’d been able to keep up with him, his red stones blazing bright in the night, that and the shining moon the only light. You hadn’t even had to tap into your own powers; he was so unskilled in comparison. You were so occupied blocking and countering his every move that you didn’t even notice the shadows of midnight slithering around until you were bound by blue magic.

Eyes covered and cradled to a strong chest you struggled the best you could, smirking to yourself, but tied tightly with that power rendered you useless and you swore you were up in the air, the wind whipping across your skin.

They had restrained you to a hard chair, not one whisper uttered between any of you. You refused to speak, refused to let anything into your mind. You had created such an intricate puzzle inside of there in the time you had been alive it was utterly impossible to break through your walls.

As soon as they had left you had ripped the blindfold off, the only thing you could manage to do, your wrists catching on the harsh metal, drinking in the sight of the room you were being kept in. 

There wasn’t much to look at.

You had had just enough food and water to keep you alive, your stomach trying to eat itself and your throat was like a desert, tongue uncomfortably dry and heavy in your mouth. Your first form of torture.

It had been so long but so short, losing all track of time. You didn’t know if they had fed you in hours or days, when your last sip of water was. But you kept quiet and kept your mind well guarded, it would not be so easy to break you.

Examining the metal cuffs you bore, you recognized the wards carved into its shiny surface, chuckling to yourself as you read them.

Silly males.

You knew they were coming, could feel their power rumbling through the mountain like a storm, and there they were. Door opening and darkness rolling in like dark clouds, the room nearly black as you squint against it. The air is thick and damp, stifling.

It’s as if the darkness is coming from him, seeping through his pores as he enters the room, standing with wings, leathery, membranous things tucked menacingly behind him, the clawed edges arching over his head like a halo of terror. The only light comes from his blue siphons, causing his face to appear sharper, meaner.

A true angel of death.

Loud, thunderous laughter rolls in next, booming against the walls, causing you to flinch in your seat at the sound. Another of his kind, a menacing smile pulling at his mouth. He’s just as handsome as the first, muscles taut with centuries of practice. Noticing the red stones glowing in the dark room you recognize him, the one you had fought against in the woods. And you would have won, if not for the male next to him.

You would smirk if your lips weren’t cracked and bleeding, dry beyond belief. He looked exactly like the sort of male that would cry for a millennia if he were to be bested by a female in battle. 

Perhaps that is why the other warrior had stepped in.

Finally, lightning embodied follows, his violet eyes nearly glowing in the dark. You can feel the power radiating off of him as he stalks casually in the door, curiously scenting your blood mixed with the tang of metal.

You can easily tell that he is the one in charge, that sly smile on his lips, silver-tongued as he says his first words to you.

“Speak.” His tone is every bit as arrogant and authoritative as he looks, standing tall and playing with the cusp of his shirt, unbuttoning the sleeves to roll them in perfect folds to his elbows, his strong tattooed forearms flexing in the light from the warriors’ siphons, the red and blue mixing to create an ominous purple the color of his eyes.

“Fuck you.”

He releases an amused puff of air. “My apologies,” he purrs, “I should have been more clear. Who are you and what are you doing on my lands?”

The two winged warriors flank you on either side – their presence noted and ignored – but your eyes stay locked on the male in charge. You keep your mouth shut, jaw set as he circles you like a predator would its prey. His dark gaze claws up and down your body, taking you all in.

“My name does not need to be learned by you,” your voice is a rasp, the threat catching in your dry throat.

“I don’t believe I gave you the option to refuse,” he responds, giving a shallow nod to the cobalt-stoned warrior. Immediately he moves in closer and you watch the ease of the male as his hand moves to his holster, plucking out his blade in one swift motion and pressing the tip of it into the vein in your throat.

It’s as if the weapon awakens in his hand, a horridly sweet song filling your ears, something you never thought you would hear again. You make to look at the weapon as best you can, carefully avoiding nicking your neck, and your breath catches. It has a stone set in the hilt, the runes engraved are the ones you’ve been searching for, and the smell hasn’t been washed away from the blood, oil, and whatever other substances have covered it throughout its time since you had last seen it.

“Where did you get that sword?” You hiss, thrashing in your seat as the three males still, sharing a look. His grip tightens around the blade though he draws it away slightly as if you’ll grab for it with your teeth. The swords song falters, screeching like you’re already too far away from its glinting metal.

“Give it back. It does not belong to you,” you fight against the restraints, standing from your seat and following the knife’s path as far as you can, body leaning towards it, arms secured to the chair behind your back. The shadowmaster yields a step backwards in surprise.

The three winged males watch curiously as you yank on the restraints, full of adrenaline like when they had first brought you in. None of them hear anything other than your frantic anger as Azriel sheaths the weapon back in its rightful spot, snug against his thigh, your wild eyes following its every movement. The shadowsingers hand stays wrapped around it’s hilt protectively.

“And how would you know that it isn’t his?” Cassian dares to question first.

“Does it sing?” you cock your head to the side tauntingly as you fall back into your seat, eyebrows raised in defiance. The song is muffled now that it’s away and you can focus better on the conversation, knowing that you’ve just shown your hand to these males: that you know something about this knife that they don’t seem to understand.

The shadowsinger reveals nothing, only answering your question.

“It is mine. For I was there when it was forged. It sings to me, a beautifully horrible tune,” you tell them, eyes cast to the blade tucked away once more, like just thinking about it will remove the warrior’s grip and send the knife flying back to your hand where it belongs.

“What the hell are you?” he breathes, staring at you with wide eyes as your iris’ flash black as night, darkness swirling in your gaze when Azriel thumbs over the stone settled in the butt of the knife.

“I am something far worse than any of your nightmares could conjure,” you glare up at them all in turn, a slight smirk curled on your lips as a new feeling enters the room, darker and more dangerous than the High Lords, a void of darkness with no beginning and no end, shifting the world on its axis.

With half a thought it was gone and the males felt like they could breathe again. It was a darkness so cold Azriel could see his own breath when he released a surprised exhale.

__________

Cassian asks the question that they’re all thinking. “Do you think the wards will hold?”

“They’ll hold,” Rhysand replies, too quickly to be true, a pause in his step to glare at his brother before he continues his anxious strides, pacing the length of his desk with his hands clenched tightly together behind his back.

Azriel watches the city out the window, waiting for the skies to darken and crackle with the buzz of their prisoners’ powers.

His hand hasn’t left the hilt of his beloved blade since they’d left you in the cell with no other parting remarks, warding the door four times over after leaving the room. No one could get in, not even Rhysand alone, the three of them needed to be there together to unlock the wards and release you.

He could understand the draw Truth-Teller felt, wanting to yield to you like the blade strapped to his thigh, a beautiful, powerful, commanding female. He itched beneath the surface of his skin, something thrumming through his blood, like your power had cursed him…or awakened something within him. He pushed the thought from his mind, turning his attention to the other Illyrians.

This was a kind of power none of them had ever encountered before, as if you were the cauldron incarnate, fueled only by wreaking havoc wherever you went.

But why did you need Truth-Teller?

The tea sits untouched on the desk, his hands too shaky to even pour himself a glass after what he’d just witnessed. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold the delicate cup without spilling.

“You keep that knife away from her, Az,” Rhys demands, and for a moment he wonders if this is the only thing his High Lord could think of, “And that’s an order.”

__________

He couldn’t ignore the draw.

Azriel’s entire body itched with the need to go to the Hewn City where you were being held, not only to see if you had broken free from the heavy wards trapping you, but there was something else…a raw and indescribable feeling, like there was that untamed beast prowling beneath his skin, thrashing to get out. It roared within him and would not be silenced, no matter how hard he tried. His shoulders tense with unease.

He’d never felt like this before. It was like he was trapped again, when he was young, even though he reminded himself he wasn’t there. Would never be back there again.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling.

It almost…interestedhim.

Was he feeling your exact emotions? Were you still trying to get yourself undone from the cuffs biting into your wrists? He had smelled your blood, a tang unlike any fae he’d encountered before. That power was boiling deep within him, excited and angry, ready to take on whatever stood in his way.

You had awakened this within him, somehow.

And how did you know of Truth-Teller? And does the blade truly sing to you?

There were so many unanswered questions swimming through his mind that he did not dare lie in his bed. It was futile at this point, instead the shadowsinger threw open his balcony doors, inhaling a deep breath of the crisp Velaris air, not quite settling him the way your power had.

He looks down at his beloved knife, tracing the symbols carved into the handle, the metal gleaming brightly in the faelight. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes flashed complete onyx, what he felt was his first breath of fresh air as your power swam through the room, a comforting, familiar hand caressing him.

It terrified him.

But even if he felt the pull to seek you out and get more information, no matter how badly he wanted to do it, he couldn’t. Not with the wards he and his brothers had put on the cell. It would take all three of them together to unlock the spell Rhys had cast, using their combined powers to secure the cell further.

Or could he?

His shadows swirled and purred in his ears, do it. It was not their usual voice, no, it was a wicked whisper of the wind from deep beneath the Hewn City, under the red rocks of the mountain, the raunchy streets of the sub-court below.

Yours.

I know you hear me, spymaster, your voice crowed. You feel it, don’t you? Your potential?

How were you doing this? He shuddered at your words, or because the beast he kept well locked down reacted to your soothing voice, calming for a moment as you spoke, and then when you stopped, it roared to be let out, to meet its old friend.

He needed to get away. Far, far, far away from you before it was too late.

__________

“This isn’t right. Az should be here,” Cassian says as he perches himself on the sofa in front of his brother’s desk, a full cup of bitter drink in his hand, the strongest they have.

“He might be part of the problem,” Rhys sighs, hating to admit it aloud. He had seen the way his spymaster looked at you with such intrigue. Could feel his brother’s own power awakening within him, as he was the only other one in the room familiar with it, having had a taste of Azriel’s true powers buried beneath his skin. He saw the way his shadows skittered with excitement, twining with the invisible power that was your own coiled through the room.

It rivaled his own.

“I’m afraid of what they could become together,” Rhys shudders from his spot by the window, his own glass clenched tightly in a white-knuckled grip. He had watched Azriel flee the House of Wind hours ago, and it hadn’t sat right with him, only furthering his suspicion that he could hardly control himself. He turned slightly to glance over his shoulder with sad eyes to Cassian, abnormally silent as he took a long sip of the amber liquor in his cup.

And the brute had not been naive to it all in the cell. He had his own feelings regarding the situation, some that aligned with the thoughts of his brother. “We could use a weapon like that,” he responds eventually, his glass drained and standing from his seat to pour another, “Someone or someone’s to stop wars before they can even start.”

And Rhys wished that were true. He knows together you and the shadowsinger would have the ability to stop battles before a casualty was made, but he’s not sure of your intentions. With his court or his brother.

“You felt her power,” the hair rises on his arms at the thought of your miniscule display of your abilities. Had his father still been alive you’d be the greatest weapon in his arsenal and he would have forced you to help make him High Lord of all of the courts, and used for breeding his powerful heirs. Rhys shudders at the thought. “That is the darkest magic that I’ve ever seen. And if they teamed up…” he braces himself against his desk, eyes shining with fear, not a star in sight, “I don’t think we’d be able to stop them.”

__________

He needed to see you.

Azriel hadn’t slept in days, tossed and turned all night. Truth-Teller never farther than arms length from him as he tried to calm his mind, that thing slithering beneath his skin. His mind reeled no matter how many mind-stilling techniques he tried, no matter how far he winnowed or flew, even to complete exhaustion, he could not rest.

Was this how you were feeling? Those uncomfortable chains wrapped around your wrists, the icy metal keeping you awake? Or was it Rhys trying to tear his way into your mind? Or the pull from the knife he kept close to his side, its haunted singing still ringing in your ears?

Your whispers only aided his lack of sleep, keeping him company with promises of newfound power and strength, something that his own shadows couldn’t keep at bay.

And it wasn’t swaying him, perhaps, more like your words were driving him crazier the longer they went on with the less amount of sleep he got.

He had devised a plan to convince his brothers to take him to you, long and thought out. Azriel knew that they were weary of him, had an inkling as to what he was feeling, as meals were tense and battle plans were scarcely spoken of. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to put his plan into action. Rhys and Cassian had mentioned briefly over the breakfast he barely touched that the three of them would be giving you a visit, to see if you wanted to talk more. 

Azriel didn’t care about the plotting looks in their eyes, for he was finally going to get some answers of his own out of you.

__________

Choking down his meal hadn’t been easy, but with the promise of seeing you he managed.

The closer the Illyrians strode, the less constricted he felt in the confines of his own skin. His chest didn’t feel as tight and his grip on Truth-Teller relaxed, a complete opposite reaction to his brothers, who were tense as ever, shooting each other weary glances.

The three of them removed the wards and the door swung open, the darkness of your powers wafting out into the hallway, a welcome feeling for the shadowsinger as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out his wings.

He dared not speak as your gaze caught his for only a moment before settling on the knife holstered to his side. You seemed to sag with relief at the sight.

Rhysand had tried to get him to leave it above, but it wasn’t something he agreed with, countering his brother’s argument with the idea that if they brought it, you’d be more trusting in them, hopefully answering their questions.

You looked worse than the last time. It would have been obvious that you hadn’t been sleeping or eating well either, even if they hadn’t been the ones who instructed the guards to only give you what was survivable. 

But your power remained as strong as ever, a comfort to the shadowsingers as his own – albeit mostly hidden within him – was soothing to you.

You watched the High Lord of the Night Court kneel to your height, drawing your attention from the weapon already singing to you, ready to use his commanding voice.

“Answer our questions and you will get a full meal.”

You scoff. You had gone much longer with much less, and you’d spit at his feet if you could, instead, letting more of your power leak out, a warning not to offend you again.

“Your little display of power does not bother me,” Rhys muses, that irritating smirk appearing on his face as he stands to his full height, brushing out the wrinkles in his trousers, “Especially since you are still tethered to a simple house chair.”

“If I am still chained,” you counter, purring up at the high lord, “It is not because of your doing.”

A loaded admission from you, your eyes feline as his spine straightens. If it isn’t his powers keeping you where you were then what could it be?

It’s as if they all realize it at once, two pairs of eyes looking at their brother, who has stayed too silent and still. His cobalt siphons flare in defense, his grip once again white-knuckled on his weapon as you release a dry chuckle.

__________

“She deserves to be under the prison.”

The shadowsinger stills at his brother’s words and it’s all he can do not to growl in protest. His shadows thicken, curling tighter around himself as his eyes meet the shining violet of his High Lord, the threat in his tone as clear as the starless night in his eyes.

His natural response shocked even himself, as Rhys watched his spymaster’s stoic hazel eyes flicker with hatred, a shadow slinking up to his ear with a whisper of something that couldn’t be heard.

Azriel didn’t react, holding the gaze of his brother as your message was delivered, a murmur in his ear, a silky invitation, Come to me, shadowsinger, and I shall show you what you truly are.

Even Cassian tensed, stepping slightly in front of Rhys, as if Az was the enemy, ready to protect his High Lord. It shook something within the shadowsinger. Not once in his entire existence had he seen his brothers look at him like this, untrusting and ready to stop him by any means necessary.

It hurt, he could admit that to himself. 

“She could help us.”

“Help us how, Azriel?” Rhysand explodes, his power rumbling through the house, rattling the paintings on the walls. The window panes shake, a half-full teacup spills over the edge of his desk, the ruddy liquid seeping into the floorboards. “You’ve seen her, heard her speak, threaten my court, and you think she’s willing to help us? Do not be so blind, brother.”

Azriel stiffens at the clear distrust in his High Lord’s eyes. His brothers had always trusted him, and had always given him room to speak. Disagreeing was rare for the three Illyrians, and it was shaken off easily (or after a long brawl) had they not agreed. He can feel his shadows winding around his hands, hiding his curled fists. A quick glance at Cassian – who is avoiding his eyes – is enough.

He wasn’t trying to defend you, no, it seemed as though your powers were enough to level all of the Night Court if you wished. Azriel had simply meant that if they could get you to trust them, it might play well in their favor. Maybe you could teach him about the simmering power locked inside of him, ready to be unleashed.

He would show them that you were not what your powers demonstrated.

And Rhys can see it in the shadowsingers raging hazel eyes, the urge to prove him wrong. He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. He’d never spoken to Azriel like that, either one of them, and Cassian now looked torn, wanting to hear the blue siphoned brother out, but sticking by his High Lord’s side, as he vowed to do.

“Az,” Rhys starts, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal, his voice a soothing mask of silky dusk that only ruffles his brother further. He needs to disarm the Illyrian in front of him and ward the knife before things could really go south. But the spymaster’s mind is made up, “Give me the knife.”

Now.

His shadows swirl around him, a tornado of darkness that carries him to you, to the cells of the Hewn City. As soon as he appears, heavy magic in the air secures the wards you’d been preparing, chained or not. He strides quickly to the prison you are in, the mountain thrumming with Rhysand’s power, raging against your own.

Azriel can’t stop himself, too overwhelmed with betrayal from his brothers and the intrigue of the female behind the door, what his abilities could become.

The magic surrounding your cell doors is beyond something he’d ever conjured himself, remembering that utter drain he felt as he and his brothers locked you inside. He placed his hands against the thick invisible wards, his mind spinning, trying to figure out how he’d be able to set you free.

What do I do? 

You release the beast.

His heart races as he thinks of what he’s about to do. He’s already betrayed his High Lord, worse yet, his brothers, by coming down here to help you escape. He’s never felt so selfish, the curiosity of your promises getting the best of him, your cool caress of smooth darkness, a lullaby in his ear.

Shutting his eyes he takes a shaky breath, and when he opens them he is already changed. Azriel stares down at the siphons on the back of each of his hands, gleaming with contained power. Seven of them he has, and not all of them can tame the thing prowling beneath his skin.

Why do you think they gave you those stones? You question mockingly, sensing his hesitation. Because they are afraid of what you are.

The two stones clang to the floor, each one a kiss goodbye. To Rhys, to Cassian. Another, from his left shoulder, the Night Court, the right, the Hewn City. Each one he rips away from his armor feels like a breath of fresh air. He can feel his powers surging already, and he wonders why they had made him contain these wonderful gifts with the blue gems. 

Rhys’ own abilities are cracking through your wards, not quickly enough for it to matter, as Azriel only has one siphon left to rid himself of, the one placed in the center of his chest. 

The last kiss goodbye of the stone is for you, his scarred fingers ripping the jewel harshly from its home, a war cry as it clangs to the ground with the rest of them.

It’s like the world stills but he does not notice as he is surging with newfound power, confused and amazed and scared. His eyes are wild as he looks between the cobalt gems laying dark on the dusty ground. He could pick them back up if he wanted, put them back on, help Rhys undo the wards you’ve created to keep them out.

But the pull in his chest from the other side of the door is too great. He has to see what could come from this.

Azriel places his hands on the door once more, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He aims the energy coursing through his veins and it shoots from his hands. The doors burst open like a paper split in two, splintering and revealing you sitting in your chair, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Welcome, shadowsinger,” you greet, and his eyes gleam with excitement, his own smile razor sharp as he steps in fully, stopping in front of you. Looking up at him, standing taller, more confident, his shadows perched behind him, better controlled by the unleashed power. He is every bit of death incarnate, a truly beautiful male getting on his knees in front of you. 

You could get used to this.

“How do you feel?”

Your voice is softer than he anticipated from the venomous tones he’d heard since you’d been captured. This, a seemingly genuine question. He gazes at you for a long moment, eyebrows furrowed. He can feel Rhys’ power, Cassian’s, Feyre’s, and Amren’s too, as they all try to undo your strong spell.

And you look breathtaking to him, as if you have nothing but all of the time in the world, bloodied wrists and chapped lips, four powerful beings using their magic against yours is easy for you to handle. And he truly sees what he can become with a little help from you.

“Show me what this is,” he nearly begs, staring down at his marred hands, dark mist like black flame sprouting from his fingertips.

You hush him, “The knife,” you tell him softly, “Use it to release me.”

He nods numbly, removing the knife slowly from its holster at his side. The gleaming blade sings once more, crying to be in your possession. 

Truth-Teller feels all wrong in his hands, like his newly released power didn’t match the one coursing through the weapon. For the first time, he doesn’t want the knife anywhere near him.

Azriel grits his teeth as he works, tempted to surrender the blade to you immediately, let you get yourself out. But he bears the strange feeling, his hands moving like he’s done this exact thing before, helping you out of the chains.

He recognizes the runes carved into the cuffs though he hadn’t when they’d first locked you up. 

“It is an ancient magic,” was all Amren had said, “impossible to get off.”

But here they were, the metal melting like ice against the sharp edge of his knife. He watched in the most fascinated way, your smile growing wider and wider the closer you got to your freedom. 

You were sure he was going to be a tough one to crack, but when you had seen him for the first time, haunted eyes and trapping his true self deep within, you knew it would be easy to convince the shadowsinger to join you.

You hiss at your free wrists, dried blood coating them and sore from your constant tearing.

In spite of that you are free, he’s freed you, and you can’t help but grin, holding out your hand to him in a silent offer.

Azriel looks at it for a moment, then into your entrapping eyes, shining with welcome, a soft smile on your pretty pink lips. 

He swears he can hear the screams of his family on the other side of the wards, feel Rhysand in his head, like he’s running full speed and throwing all of his strength behind his shoulder as he tries to break through the barriers of his mind.

If he does this, there is really no going back.

His fingers slide between yours, his ragged skin soft and tentative. He releases a quiet breath, everything about this feels as it should – better even – like he’s finally found home as his grip tightens on yours. You give his hand a gentle squeeze and a nod of your head, reassuring him that he’s doing the right thing.

__________

Winnowing felt different with you. For Azriel, it had always been his shadows carrying him, slipping through the realms of time on a twilight cast breeze. But this…he could feel your power in his own heart, and moving across lands with you was like riding on a wave of midnight.

“Where are we?” he breathes into the pitch darkness.

“Somewhere between worlds,” you respond, voice echoing off of what he doesn’t know, he can’t see a thing no matter how hard he squints. His hand clutches yours tighter as you begin to walk, stumbling behind you. “Somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” he questions, his stomach coiling with unease as he follows you blindly, his free hand clutching Truth-Teller tightly, its stone not even shining a tiniest amount of light.

He can’t even see his shadows, feel them slide against his skin and his heart stammers, wondering if they are lost.

But not once does the thought that you could be betraying him, taking him somewhere to kill him, cross his mind. He trusts you. Fully and completely.

“We won’t be here long,” you murmur in the darkness. You can feel his presence behind you, towering over you, running a gentle thumb across his scarred skin. It feels like you are caressing his bones, his soul, and it causes the shadowsinger to shudder, his wings flaring out, a release of pent up magic.

He doesn’t speak again, your touch grounding and confident as you stalk through this new realm.

Azriel doesn’t know how long the two of you have been walking for but his power has seemed to level slightly, and the void of black is making him too relaxed. He hasn’t slept in days, and he shuts his eyes, feeling like he could fall into sleep in the next step.

Until he hears it.

His hazel eyes shoot open, zeroing in on the first source of light since you’d arrived. It’s not far off now, the glowing pool of white that grows brighter and brighter the nearer you get.

But it’s the sound that has him picking up his pace slightly, tugging you further until the both of you are in a flat out run, his wings itching for him to take flight.

It’s a glorious harmony, a sweet song, one he hasn’t heard in a long long time, calling him home.

And it’s too dim for him to see the dark light spilling from Truth-Teller, still held in a tight grip by his side.

He looks to you as the both of you halt in front of the glowing pool of clear blue waters. Peering into the pond, his eyes catch on what is giving the liquid its glow.

He cannot believe it, sucking in a sharp breath and looking at you with wide eyes. You can only beam at him, as he seems to finally be putting the pieces he can back together.

“What is that?” he whispers in awe.

“Why do you think you feel so connected to it? To the blade in your hand and the one at the bottom of the pool.” You ask, ignoring his question, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. “It is because you and I are made of it.”

He tries to catch you as you let yourself fall backwards into the pool, his fingers unable to grasp onto the fabric of your shirt. He’s frozen to his spot as he watches you through the clear pond, diving deeper and deeper to retrieve the weapon lying on the floor of the water for safety.

You’ve done this before, when you had created this place for yourself, to keep the weapon safe. You couldn’t stand the tune of its singing, like a grating voice, a constant from where it was strapped across your back. 

You understood that the fae you were traveling to were aware of the weapon, about its counterpart kept by the spymaster. If you were to bring the twin sword with you, you’re sure it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Wrapping your hand around the sword’s heavy hilt, you push up from the bottom of the pool, shooting straight upwards. When you break the surface Azriel’s hand wraps around your arm, hauling you out of the water.

And you release his hand as he kneels in front of you once more, head bowed as he holds Truth–Teller up to you, resting in both of his palms. You grin widely, the blade’s own voice harmonizes with the weapon in your hand, crowing a sultry melody.

Together at last.

“You remember it, don’t you?” you ask softly, and his head turns up to look at you. He’s gorgeous in the white light emitting from the sword, all sharp angles and bright eyes. The black glow from the blade in his own hands casting perfect shadows across his face.

And he doesn’t remember it, but he stands as you offer him the sword calling out to him. His gaze flicks from the hilt of the saber to yours, swallowing harshly like he can’t quite believe what is real. In your hands, the twin to his own knife–

“Gwydion?”

“Soul–Stealer,” you confirm the weapon’s nickname with a nod.

His hand lands on the handle of the ancient sword at the same time yours touches Truth–Tellers and it’s as if time goes completely still. His eyes glow hot white and yours surge with black as the power of the weapons and yourselves all become one once more.

The magic rushing between all of you, conduits for the cauldron itself, doesn’t hurt in the slightest. It’s the easiest he’s ever breathed, most relaxed he’d ever been, beaming at you with the widest grin he’s ever smiled.

He feels good.

He twirls the sword around once, a familiar weight in his scarred hand. 

And all this time when he had been feeling like something had been missing from him his entire life, but he wouldn’t dare speak a word to his family, who would think him crazy for such a thing. But the darkness shifted, filled when they had brought you in, and now, with this weapon in his hand, shining brightly and chirping a serene melody, he realizes that it is you, and always has been.

Your voice is that of his blades, and his low chorus singing true from Truth-Teller, the void is full.

He looks to you, eyes brimming with unshed tears, a wobbly smile on his face, waiting for you to continue.

And all you can do is give him a look of understanding, a real smile, and a playful tug on that bond as you speak, “Different bodies, different lives, but we were together.”

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You want to get Az something special for Starfall so you enlist the help of Cassian (heavy Cass x reader friendship).

Warnings:None

Word Count: 3,157

_________________________________________

“Hey Cass, can I talk to you for a second?”

“You can do anything you want for any number of seconds,” the warlord gives you a devious smirk and you smack him on the arm, face going hot as you notice Azriel watching your encounter with his brother. The shadowsingers face in unreadable as usual, but you’ve known him long enough – have paid maybe toomuch attention to the warrior – to know his tells.

His brows give a nearly unnoticeable twitch and by the way that eyes glint and narrow just slightly, you know he’s heard Cassian’s comment.

“Shut up,” you mutter, ushering him away from the intense gaze of the spymaster. You consider yourself lucky that Cassian doesn’t make another snide remark as he follows you from the room, because you know for a fact that there are at least three different things he could have said to make this situation look worse.

You take a sip of your drink, shuddering at the bitter alcohol that there’s too much of. You grimace into your glass before deciding to set it atop of the fireplace. You’ll never let Mor mix you another cocktail again.

“Hey now,” Cassian tuts, reaching for the cup you’ve just set down, “Don’t be wasteful (Y/N).” You roll your eyes as the Illyrian tips the liquid back, taking it down in a few swallows. He splutters on the last of the liquid and you glare, wiping a few droplets from your cheek. “What the fuck is this? Pure gasoline?”

“Don’t ask,” you wave your hand, looking near the door to see if the shadowsinger is nearby. “Mor just handed it to me.”

“Well I think she’s actually trying to kill you (Y/N),” he smacks his lips together with a frown, abandoning the glass on the hearth once more, “I’d stay away from her if I were you.”

“Anyway,” you respond impatiently. Azriel could walk into the room at any moment. Hell, he could already be in here, hiding in his shadows like the sneaky and nosy male he is. “I wanted to ask you for some help.”

“Oh,” he grins his vexing smile, and you already are regretting this, “This should be good.”

“I want to get Az something for Starfall,” you mumble, keeping your attention on the siphon in the middle of his chest instead of his face. You hope to the mother that the red glow coming from the stone masks the crimson color of your cheeks.

“As you should,” the warlord hums, “You should also get me something for Starfall.”

“Cassian,” you groan, crossing your arms over your fluttering stomach. “I mean, not in a friend kind of way…”

You had liked Az for as long as you could remember. You’d always found the shadowsinger incredibly beautiful, but were much too nervous to do anything other than try and gain his trust, be someone that he could see as a good friend, or family once you were invited to join the Inner Circle.

It took time and a lot of patience for you to become as close as a friend as he was with other members and you’d always had a sweet spot for him, hoping that someday you wouldn’t be too nervous to put your feelings out in the ether.

But you were. You didn’t want to fuck anything up with him. Your relationship was amazing how it is, and if he didn’t want the same things that you wanted, it would be catastrophic to your soul to not have him as a friend any longer.

“I knew it,” Cassian nearly bellows and you scramble, clawing at his arms and looking over your shoulder frantically for any sign of life, pleading for him to be quiet. “I knew you were into Az. Rhys owes me thirty gold marks.”

“Would you please–wait, you two were betting on this?”

“Ow,would you stop that?” he bats your hands away from him where you’re trying to grab at his arms. “We are actually betting on if Az is into you, but it has yet to be confirmed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echo, mind reeling at his words. If he and Rhys are betting on you and Az’s feelings for one another, then there must be something that they’re picking up on in regards to his side of your relationship. Or that you are being way too obvious with your feelings.

“Oh my Gods,” you breathe. Your head is spinning and you grab onto the stone surrounding the hearth, bracing yourself as you struggle for a breath. 

“Woah, (Y/N), are you okay?” Cassian asks and you can hear the worried edge to his voice as he places a hand on your shoulder. You try to speak but end up gasping like a fish. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”

He leads you to one of the soft sofas, hands out and ready to catch you should your wobbly legs give out from under you. Your stomach is in knots. What if Azriel has known how you felt about him this entire time and has chosen not to say anything because he doesn’t want to let you down?

“Does he know?” you wheeze, taking the glass he’s filled from the pitcher that appeared on the small table in front of the couch you are resting on. You hold it tightly in your hands for a moment, letting the cool glass shock you into a better mindspace, taking a long breath before raising the cup to your lips.

“No, not that I know of,” Cassian perches next to you, an apologetic look in his eyes to which you respond with a small smile.

“Okay,” you can breathe easier now. Everything is fine, he doesn’t know a thing, you haven’t wrecked anything yet.

“About that present,” he starts, drawing you from your thoughts once more, “I hear that male lingerie is really coming into style–”

“I actually had something in mind already Cass,” you muse, hiding an entertained smile behind the rim of your cup as you take another drink, “I just need help acquiring it, if you would be so kind.”

His eyes light up at your words, “Oh! Well why didn’t you say something before?” 

You roll your eyes fondly and nudge him with your elbow. The Illyrian slings his arm around your shoulder playfully, pretending to mess up your hair with a fist. You can’t help but laugh with him, trying to shove your way out of his arms.

“Alright, alright, in all seriousness,” you start, and he lets you pull away. His grin falters as he glances over your shoulder and you whip your head around to see Azriel standing in the doorway.

He appears aloof, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, face as stoic as ever. But both you and Cassian can tell by the look in his hazel eyes, how his wings are tucked in too tightly behind him, and his shadows are still, as if frozen in the air, holding their breath, waiting for you and the male on the sofa beside you to move in closer, that he’s not too happy.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks coolly. He’s not fooling anyone.

“Nope,” Cassian responds, popping the ‘p,’ “(Y/N) was just telling me how bad the drink Mor gave her was and asked me to finish it off so Mor doesn’t feel bad. Isn’t that sweet of her?”

Azriel’s eyes flick to the glass atop the hearth then back to the two of you quickly. He’ll leave you alone for now, but he makes it known that he knows his brother is not telling the truth with a twitch of his eyebrows.

He pushes off of the wall, calling over his shoulder as he walks away, “Dinner is ready.”

Cassian releases a deep exhale, sagging into the couch. His head rolls lazily to look at you, “That was a close one.”

“What do you mean a close one?” you exclaim quietly, pushing yourself to your feet, “He clearly knows that you were lying and we’re up to something.”

“Yeah,” the warlord offers you his arm, which you take with a nod in thanks, “But he doesn’t know what we are up to.”

You shake your head, a soft tug pulling at your mouth that you have to bite back.

“Actually, I don’t even know what we’re up to either,” Cassian remarks with furrowed brows.

This time you can’t hold in your laugh.

__________

“Cassian, you and (Y/N) will be heading to the Day Court to check in with Helion and confirm that his armies are prepared for battle.”

You bite your smile back, eyes glittering in thanks to the High Lord across the large table, map sprawled across the middle. You had spoken with Cassian and Rhys while Azriel had been out scouting and this was the plan that the three of you had come up with to retrieve the shadowsinger’s gift from the Day Court.

Speaking of, the Illyrian watches, his shadows skittering around him, halting at Rhys’ words. One whispers in his ear the look you give his High Lord, then the soft knowing smile you give Cassian. He bristles, fists clenching at his sides.

You and Cassian in the Day Court…alone? He was thoroughly confused. He could have sworn that you were at least interested in being something a little more than friends with him, but with the way you and his brother were acting the other night, sitting close to each other on the couch, having a laugh, you leaning slightly into him before he was noticed, and now, with the shared looks and nervous demeanor, you must have been trying to get closer to Cassian this entire time.

He was a fool, he thought to himself, for chasing after you when so clearly it was his brother that you wanted. Always his brothers.

Picking up on his set jaw and shadowed eyes, you furrow your brows, shooting him a silent question. He avoids eye contact with you, staring down at the map on the table instead, rolling his jaw back and forth.

If he is bristling because he knew that the High Lord of the Day Court was going to flirt with you or because it was dangerous and unnecessary to go directly before a war you didn’t know. But you wanted to learn of what was going on in the quietest brother’s mind, wanted to reassure him that the situation wasn’t as he may be reading it as.

“Try not to get banned from this court too, brother,” Rhys comments with his signature smirk, before dismissing the meeting.

Azriel doesn’t wait, his shadows swirling around him like a wildfire of darkness, winnowing away from you as you round the table near him. You curse under your breath, turning to the Illyrians behind you helplessly.

They share twin faces of sympathy, and it’s all you can do not to go hunting for the shadowsinger. Instead you give Cassian a firm nod, ready to head to the Day Court in search of Azriel’s Starfall gift.

__________

You’ve been anxious all night. Not even the nearly empty glass of spirits in your hand aids in calming you down.

The Day Court had been a hit. Helion had been more than happy to help you with your idea for Az’s gift, after he’d made you blush with a few raunchy remmarks. You’d turned him down politely, cheeks burning red as Cassian laughed whole-heartedly at the both of you before telling Helion of your crush on the shadowsinger.

Your gift to him was all wrapped up and ready to be opened, sitting on top of his pile of presents, commanding all of your attention. You couldn’t wait, but a part of you also wanted to snatch it up and hide it, feeling the pressure of giving it to him in front of the rest of the Inner Circle.

And Azriel was naturally a quiet male, but this was another type of silence.

You wring your hands together as he unwraps the present, the last one of the pile though it had been stacked on the top. He flips through the booklet, tabs upon tabs of little papers, enchanted and shimmering with golden light.

You look to Cassian nervously, twisting your hands in your lap. What if he doesn’t like it? The warlord nods his head eagerly, supportively, and you stutter your response.

“They’re ah–” his hazel eyes lift to yours, watching you intently, “It’s for your books. You stick a piece between the pages and it wards the novels from damage like fire or you know…” you trail off, waving a hand dismissively.

Your words strike his heart. Safe from fire, the one thing he detested the most. His beloved novels lining the walls of his room would now be safe from any sort of danger they could face.

“There must be hundreds,” his voice is a whisper of awe, heart fluttering in his chest as he looks back down at the gift he’s cradling in his hands. The rest of the Inner Circle watches, quieting down from their conversations as they feel the shift in the atmosphere, eyes soft as they watch the two of you interact.

You blush, sheepishly retorting, “I know how much you like books.”

And you do. You know he has more novels than you could even count, having to guess the number to tell Helion. Ancient books to new ones, romance novels he knew you and the females loved well hidden in a secret spot by the spymaster himself.

This…this is possibly the best gift he could ever have gotten from someone and his words get stuck as he tries to reply, throat thick with emotion.

His brothers can tell, prompting you all back into conversation, and you look at him for a long second, tracing the cover of the gift with gentle fingers until Mor goads you into opening your own gifts.

Each present you hold near and dear to your heart. Your friends–family know you better than anyone, and you’re impressed with their gift giving skills. Even Cassian – whom you had heard usually gifted lingerie – had gotten you something thoughtful, a particular set of graphite pencils you had been unable to find for months.

There isn’t one from Azriel. But you aren’t upset that he hasn’t gotten you anything, just being near him is enough. The shadowsinger had loosened up since he’d winnowed abruptly from the meeting the other day, drinking and even making a few sly comments with the rest of you, a gorgeous smirk adorning the face you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of.

But Azriel is a sneaky male.

“(Y/N),” he stops you on your way to your room after bidding everyone goodnight, just stepping onto the landing of the second floor, plush carpet cozy beneath your feet.

“Hey, Az,” you greet him with a smile, your stomach fluttering at the sound of his voice.

“I uh, got this for you,” and if it weren’t so dark you might think that he’s blushing. But by the way his shadows are peeking from over the crests of his wings and hiding his hands behind his back after he passes you the velvet box you can tell that he’s nervous.

He holds his breath as you carefully pull the ribbon open, the silky string flutters to the ground as you flip open the top.

And while you studied the blade he studied you. Delicate fingers tracing the intricate swirls carved into the handle, looking so much like those shadows that spiral around him, brushing across the hilt with your thumb like he wants to do with the pretty pink lip you have tucked between your teeth.

He exhales sharply as you look up at him with those big, gorgeous eyes, glittering like the weapon in the dim faelight. He’d always prided himself in figuring people out, but he can’t discern the look on your face as you stare up at him.

“A knife?” you question, and his heart stills for a moment as he thinks you don’t like it, but the upturned corner of your mouth and mirth in your voice tell him otherwise, “Are you flirting with me Azriel?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs bashfully, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you are enjoying every second of this new Azriel, all tender and timid. “Why don’t you look at the other side and find out?”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, pulling the knife out and flipping it over. On this side of the blade, right near the hilt, there’s a collection of stars carved into the metal. “Az, what’s this?”

“That’s what the stars looked like on the night I first met you,” he admits, twisting his hands together. The longer you stare at it the quicker his heart races and the more he wants to winnow away, but instead he can’t control the words tumbling from his mouth in a quiet admission, “I talk to the stars about you.”

Your mouth parts but the words get stuck in your throat. Your heart is bursting in your chest from the utter thoughtfulness of the male before you and your eyes well with tears at his confession. All this time you had thought your feelings were one-sided, that he never would see you as something more than another member of the Inner Circle, and you had no idea he was thinking the same about you.

It’s all you can do, look up at him with your mouth still parted, like the declaration will spill from your lips one way or another, eyes sparkling up at the tender-hearted male before you, his hazel eyes wide and watching. 

He has been the spymaster of the Night Court for many years, but he can’t seem to figure you out.

And it’s nice, the element of surprise on your side as you clutch the box tighter in your hand so it doesn’t slip out when you push up onto your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a desperate kiss, pouring into it all of the times you’d thought of him. 

The things he would do to you, for you, as his hands wind around your waist, the permission to touch you has his hands shaking, his mind in overdrive. Never would he have thought he’d ever have this – you, get to taste you on his tongue, hear the melody of the noises spilling from your mouth as his tongue and hands explore you. 

He cannot wait until he can be pressed bare against you, chest to chest, hearts beating as one.

Azriel thanks the mother when you pull away, lips swollen and eyes lustful, as you take his hand and lead him to your room.

1+1=4 .Chapter Two

(Not my best work. Apologies in advance)

Reader’s POV..

The first thing that you felt as consciousness crawled its way back to you, was how heavy everything felt. The slightest movement made your hands and feet feel like trying to drag mountains along with them. As your vision cleared, you saw why. Your hands and feet were tied in chains, each with a weight attached. Panic surged through you. Where were you? Why were you here? How were you here?

Soon all the memories of the day started coming back to you. You had gone out with Nesta. And someone had attacked you. Or at least kidnapped you. Someone had kidnapped you. In broad daylight. The thought terrified you to no end. How had they gotten through Velaris’s security measures? Rhysand had ensured that the city would be off limits to any threats. So how had they…

Before you could ponder your dilemma any longer, the creaks of a door tore through the silence of the room. Glancing up, you saw that you were faced with a man, with two other flanking him from behind. It didn’t take long for you to figure out just who had been stupid enough to do all this. The scent of bonfires and rich orchards spread. Beron.

“Well, well. The lady finally awakes. I was beginning to think we had gone through all this trouble for nothing if you were just going to spend all your time here sleeping,” the High Lord snarled, a measly grin plastered on his face.

“What do you want Beron?” Genuinely curious as to why he would go to such lengths and risk himself.

“To remind your High Lord and that Spymaster of their place. They’ve begun to think that they can bend the rest of us to their will. Just last week that mate of yours slaughtered our sentries.”

“Sentries that were infiltrating our territory,” You spat back.

“Regardless. I think your head on a platter will do wonderfully won’t it? Remind them to stay in their limits,” Beron said complacently, as if he truly believed this stupid plan would work.

“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I had imagined Beron. Do you really think you can force Rhysand to adhere to your commands? Even if you kill me, but they’ll never bow to you. The only thing you will gain is an early death.”

“You have that right, little bird. You are of no use to me dead,” the bastard rambled on. Your skin crawled at the title he had given you.

“Alive, you can be used as leverage to make the Night Court more amiable to certain agreements. I’m sure your mate would go to any lengths to get you back, no? Although… I need you alive, not unharmed. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a few bruises here and there, a few broken bones perhaps? You know just a little something to… make them more persuasive let’s say,” he declared.

Panic froze your very blood. This child had been a blessing from the Mother. Something you and your mate had cherished. The two of you were happier than you had ever been. Scared but excited beyond belief to finally be starting you own family. You couldn’t lose all that. Not like this. Beron signalled to the two men behind him, both of which made their way over to you. The glint of metal made you realise both of them had weapons in their hands.

“No, no, please! Please!” you pleaded, desperate for any way out of this hell. Although your assailants were not affected in the least by your begging. Before they could reach you, as a last resort to save both your lives you screamed,

“No! No! Please! I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant! Please don’t do this!”

A single shout from Beron had the two men halting where they were. Bracing yourself, you moved your arms from where they had been shielding your face and gazed up at Beron. The High Lord was grinning ear to ear, an evil glint in his amber eyes.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise? A lovely one at that. Now there’s nothing we could ask for that the Night Court would deny. After all, Azriel wouldn’t want any harm to come to his child now, would he?”

You had never imagined that Beron of all people would know of your pregnancy before your family. Azriel did. And that’s what mattered. Nesta did too. And that was something that Azriel did not know. The eldest Archeron had always been close to your heart, even when her relations with the rest of the Inner Circle were not that good. She was nothing short of a sister to you. So keeping that in mind, you had told her when you had gone out with her, begging her to not tell anyone, even Cassian. She had begrudgingly agreed, overflowing with excitement. At least now… someone else knew. If she was to die here… at least Az wouldn’t suffer alone. He would have someone who understood his pain of losing the two of them, someone who would hold him together. And she knew Nesta would do it. For her, she would do it.

Beron threw another one of his disgusting glances at you before walking away, him men right behind him. Leaving you all alone in the darkness, wondering how everything had gone wrong so quickly.

……………………………………………………………………………..

Time became a dark, motionless sea. Not moving forwards or backwards. It trudged slowly where it was. The inertia of it all was becoming suffocating. You had no idea just hoe long you had been trapped here. All you knew was that it had been too long. You were ravenous with hunger and each and every muscle in your body was sore.

You had just begun wondering how long you would be able to survive without food now that you were pregnant, when your luck blessed you with company once again. Great. Beron was probably back to gloat or threaten or do whatever the hell the son of a bitch had thought of in that weasel like head of his.

However, as luck would have it, this time Beron had sent his eldest son to talk your head off. Eris. This was good. Eris and Rhysand had long shared an alliance. An unstable, unreliable alliance but a mutually beneficial one nonetheless. Maybe he could get you out of here, if anything just to gain favour with Rhysand. But even that bridge didn’t seem too sturdy. How far would Eris go for his alliance with the Night Court? Would he risk his father’s wrath in his own court, where he could oh so easily get caught.

So you were caught by surprise when you saw that Eris was accompanied by a servant carrying a tray of food, who set it before you in the cell before scurrying away.

“What’s all this?” you asked warily.

“Well I don’t know about the Night Court but we do tend to treat our ladies with respect. Especially pregnant ones. So I figured you might need some sustenance,” the Autumn heir replied.

“How do I know its not poisoned?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to trust me on that darling,” he shot right back.

“Trust you? Well we did and look how that turned out for me? ”you spat back at him, all the distress and tension boiling to the surface.

“I don’t know what you think of me but despite my influence, I cannot control what my mongrel of a father does.”

“Beron’s not really that stupid is he? Does he truly believe this plan of his to pressurise Rhysand is going to work? If anything it’s only going to screw you people over even more. You said it yourself, I’m pregnant. You know what that means doesn’t it? It means my mate will go to any lengths to get me back. He’ll kill you Eris. Azriel will kill you all if anything happens to me. And even Rhysand won’t be able to stop him this time. So please for once in your life, use that head of yours. You claim to be an ally of the Night Court don’t you? So help me, help me get out. You know you’ll be spared if you do, I’ll ensure it.”

Eris gazed at you with his amber eyes. You could see the cogs turning in his head, his eyes flickering as he processed what you said. Finally he straightened himself and said one more thing before leaving,

“Eat. I’ll see what I can do.”

Azriel POV…

Every single part of his being was begging him to go and find whoever had dared to do this, to torment them so bad their next seven generations would remember. It was all his fault. He had been foolish enough to even entertain the idea of a family. Men like him didn’t deserve that. No, they were cursed to suffer alone for eternity. How dare he try to be happy when he had damned countless others? How could he have a child with you when there were so many monsters lurking in this world, aching to get a chance at revenge.

And he had said so. He had voiced his concerns to you, about being a bad father, about being bad for you and the baby. But you, being the kind and loving soul that you were, had assured him that he would be okay. That all of you would be okay. Now… you were gone. You had been stolen from him from your own home. The thought made him want to burn the whole world down.

Nesta had come up empty with any idea about who it had been or even what had happened. The only thing the oldest Archeron had to offer was that she had gone to get the two of you some food and upon returning had found your table empty. He had left soon after that to look for any potential leads, to look for anything that would help him find you.

He had returned empty handed, more frustrated and scared than he had been before he left. If anything happened to you or their child because of his negligence he would never be able to forgive himself.

The worst part was that no one else knew about the pregnancy. So they couldn’t understand his fear, his urgency to get you back. And he didn’t feel like telling them either. Partially because he didn’t have the time nor patience to have that conversation right now, but also because he knew this was a huge deal to you. This wasn’t how you would have liked to tell them all. And God forbid something happened…

He shuddered as he shook the thought from his head. Rhysand’s floor would probably need to be replaced since his pacing had worn it down to nothing. No kind words or reassurances from his family would calm him down. In fact they were making him even more enraged. He had never before felt a stronger urge to murder Rhysand than now. For some godforsaken reason, Rhysand kept preaching at him to take the “diplomatic” route as he put it himself. Like the High Lord expected him to go knocking to every court to ask if they had kidnapped his mate. It pissed him off even more because he knew Rhysand was being a fucking hypocrite, he knew that Rhysand would every single law or rule that there was if it had been Feyre. Yet he was expected to play nice.

“I know that you don’t have that much when it comes to brain capacity, but this is stupid even for you Rhysand! Whoever did this could be torturing my mate and you expect me to stay put!” he spat at him brother. The rest of his family silently watched from the side-lines, knowing better than to try and get between these two.

“I am using my head since it is clear that you can’t right now! You can’t just go on a killing spree in the courts in a blind guess that you’ll find her somewhere. Do you have any idea what you would jeopardise?” This wasn’t his brother speaking. No Azriel knew this was the High Lord of the night court. And it didn’t deter him one bit.

“You’re the one who’s not listening! You want me to risk my mate, my wife’s like for what? For some stupid treaties so that you can go and have tea parties with the other courts!”

The look in Rhysand’ eyes was ice cold. Before the High Lord could reply, Cassian intervened,

“Az, Rhys is right one thing. We need to figure out who did thus first so we can come up with a plan of attack.”

He closed his eyes and took a shuddering deep breath. If only they knew what their mindless bickering was risking. If only they knew how each passing second that you were not by his side was burning his very soul away. That was when it hit him. Burning. Of course it was them. How the fuck had he been so slow?

“Beron. It has to be Beron. No one else would be stupid enough to do this,” he put out.

“We don’t know for sure. We can’t give Autumn any reason to wage a war. We have to be diplomatic about this…” Rhysand started. But Azriel had already made up his mind. He was going to get the two of you back. No matter what he had to risk. What was the worst Rhysand would do? Kill him? At least the two of you would be safe. At least he would die knowing it had been to protect his family.

“You be diplomatic. I’m going to get my wife back,” he said, voice a deadly calm, before disappearing into his shadows. The last thing he heard was Rhysand screaming his name and Mor begging him to stop.

If Rhysand was the High Lord, he was the Shadowsinger, the Night Court’s Spymaster, feared across the seven courts. He didn’t need anyone’s help.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Now that he had a suspect, there was no time to waste. After his departure from the House of Wind, he had gone directly to their home. Cassian was right about one thing, he needed to be prepared.

That was what had preoccupied him right now. He stood in his house’s in built training arena, strapping up all the weapons he could physically carry. Azriel had just put a knife back in his sheath when his shadows alerted him of another’s presence in the house. If Rhysand had come all this way to talk him out of this, he was going to get an earful, and probably a few punches. But he was surprised when Cassian walked in instead and started grabbing weapons as well.

“You know Rhysand’s going to have both our asses for this,” Cass said nonchalantly as Azriel stared on.

“Uhh what are you doing?” Azriel inquired, still confused on his brother’s intentions.

“I’m coming with you. I figured after that lovely conversation with Rhysand there was no way you were going to actually stay put. And someone needs to make sure you stay alive, so I’m coming as well,” Cassian replied. “ And don’t even think of trying to convince me otherwise. Either I’m coming with you or I’m tying you up right now and going to go get Rhysand. Your choice.”

Azriel only took a deep breath and threw another dagger at his brother. The general caught it seamlessly and threw him one of his signature, sly grins. So the two Illyrians snuck out of the house and then the Night Court. It was then that Azriel swore to himself that he would either return with you at his side or not at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Turns out, some deity out there had pity on him and had actually blessed him with good luck. The two didn’t have to do any infiltration themselves. The last person who they had expected to help them had come through at the last second; Eris. The Autumn Court heir had contacted them through one his own sentries and had provided a location to some bunker where you were being held. Whether or not they could trust him was another thing altogether. It was worth a shot. Even if you weren’t there, he would first slaughter everyone in the bunker and then Eris himself. Then he could go and find you.

But as soon as the two of them walked in he knew it was the right place. Your scent was everywhere. God. If there was so much as a single scratch on you, he was going to go and kill Beron himself. Consequences be damned. Alarms were rung as soon as they walked in. About two dozen guards ran towards them. Azriel only turned to Cassian with a smirk of his own. It had been quite a while since the two of them had had fun on the battlefield together. It had started to become quite boring actually. Oh well. These poor guards would make for some excellent entertainment.

They had slaughtered each and every one of them. Not that they had ever stood a chance. The two males were now covered completely in blood, not a drop their own. None of the guards had been good enough to land a blow. After they were disposed of the two split up to look for you.

In the end, it was Azriel who found you. Slumped in the corner of a barren cell, an empty tray of food at your feet. You were sleeping, or unconscious, he did not know. All he knew was that you looked too pale, too weak. As if sensing his presence, you awoke. The familiar light of your eyes soothed his very soul.

You took one glance at him and rushed up, throwing your arms around him. He didn’t know who started sobbing first.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he started murmuring into your hair as he held you to him, basking in your scent that now covered him.

“No, no, Az. It’s not your fault. I should have listened to you. I should have stayed home…” you started rambling but Azriel shut you off with a kiss. It ignited your very soul. All the passion and fear and love and sadness that you had been feeling for the past few days came rushing to the surface. You only tightened your grip and kisses him harder, hoping it would convey your feelings.

“Come on let’s go home,” he whispered against your mouth and took your hand.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The two of you had filled Cassian in on your way back. The general had only then understood his brother’s frustrations. Despite everything, as you had anticipated, Cassian was bursting with excitement. He had thrown his arms around the two of you and gave both of you huge, bear hugs, after which he proceeded to shout,

“I’m going to be an uncle!!!!!” to the city of Velaris.

Azriel had taken you straight home and had sent Cassian to get Madja immediately. Despite trying to assume him that you were fine, you had to admit that the past few days had taken a toll on you, mentally if not physically. You were quite literally drained and that amount of tension and fear couldn’t possibly be good for the baby. But Madja had eased your fears after a long, thorough check up.

The healer had explained that while the past events had not been ideal in the least, it had thankfully not taken any significant toll on you or the baby. Although you needed a strict bed rest for the next few weeks as well as a proper diet, and as Madja had put it,

“No more stress or tension whatsoever. And no more of these foreign excursions to other courts. I mean it. She needs rest without any disturbance, Azriel. Keep your mate happy.”

The healer had departed soon after along side Cassian. Cass looked like he could not contain his happiness and after begging the both of you, had gotten permission to tell everyone else of the pregnancy, on the condition that he would keep all of them at bay for at least a few days so that you could get some proper rest.

“Don’t worry about anything at all. I’ll take care of those psychos. And don’t worry about Rhysand either, Az. I’ll talk to that stingy asshole myself. And yeah.. anything you need just say the word okay? The two of you just stay home and relax.”

After which the general said his farewells and left as well, finally leaving the house to just the two of you. You had taken a long, warm bath after he had left and now sat in your bed, wearing one of your mate’s shirts as he gently brushed your hair. When he was done detangling and braiding your hair, you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck so that you were sitting in his lap. Azriel’s gaze was so tender and loving, his touch so delicate as if you were made of glass. It made you want to cry.

“I thought I lost you. Both of you. I was so scared, I felt like my heart was going to stop, ”Azriel admitted, tears rolling freely down his face.

“I was scared too Az, more than you know. I thought I would never get to see you again. And that thought hurt more than any weapon of theirs ever could,” you whispered back just as softly.

“But you’re here now. And I swear to you, I am going to protect the both of you with my life. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or our baby.”

You only nodded because you knew you need not say anything. It was the truth. You knew Azriel would protect you until his last breath. So you just let your mate wrap his arms around you as he lay down. The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was the feeling of his wings embracing you, shielding you from the world outside, and his shadows running through your hair like silk.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

(Timeskip)

Nine gruelling months later, you lay in bed, covered in sweat and tears. Giving birth to a baby was hard enough. Giving birth to a baby with wings was harder. But giving birth to twins made your body feel like it was going to tear itself apart from the inside out.

After a seemingly, never ending labor, you now sat leaning against the bed, watching your mate swaddle your babies with Madja’s guidance. The sight made your heart feel full. You had found out only last minute that the two of you were having twins and the panic had driven the two of you up the wall. This was not what you had prepared for. Even all the stuff you has accumulated over the nine months was only for one baby. The two of you still needed to get a new crib, a cot, clothes and Cauldron knows what else. But Cassian and Rhysand had eased your worries in a heartbeat, assuring the two of you that they would take care of everything, ever the doting uncles.

Amidst your pondering, you hadn’t noticed that Madja had left. Azriel made his way over to you, each arm carrying a baby. A boy and a girl. Perfect. Just like you had thought they would be.

You took your son in your arms while Azriel sat beside you with you daughter. Annalise and Mikhail. These were the names the two of you had decided after countless nights of debate and discussion. Azriel had chosen Anna’s name so it had only been fair that you get to name your son. But Azriel had loved the name. Loved that it was of Illyrian heritage and signified and what it meant as well. Your children were truly nothing more than a gift from the Mother, a blessing bestowed that the two of you would cherish your entire lives.

As luck would have it, despite bearing them in your womb for nine months and going through excruciating labor, both the children looked exactly like their father. Annalise was his clone copy. She bore his dark, raven hair and glistening hazel eyes. Her features were just like his as well. Intense and like they had beauty built into every inch of them. Mikhail was no less. He had his father’s dark hair and handsome looks, but he had your eyes. You had that at least.

As you gazed at your mate and your children, you still couldn’t believe it was real, that you were really here. That you had survived Beron and labour and everything else life seemed to throw at you. And you voiced these concerns to Azriel. He moved to kiss your forehead, then of your son’s and daughter’s before saying,

“I will be eternally grateful for what you have blesses me with. What you have gone through to bear our children is no small feat. But I promise I will always love and cherish you for it. And Annalise and Mikhail as well. I will love you all with everything I have as long as I live and I never let anyone hurt them. I swear it.”

“I know you won’t Azriel. And I swear I will do the same for you. I love you Always and Forever.” Your mate smiled at you as his eyes shined with tears. With the window open and the slight breeze blowing, he seemed to whisper back to the very stars themselves,

“I love you too. All three of you. Always and Forever.“

…………………………………………………………………………………

Taglist:@mooncleaver@cheshmetkoshgele@elegantranchcowboytree@bibliophilelife124

1+1=4

Summary: You find out that you and Azriel are about to have a baby. The two of you were happier than ever since this was nothing short of a blessing considering how rare children are amongst Fae. But what will happen when both your careers get in the way?

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Fainting, sickness(nausea)

Being the mate of the night court’s spymaster came with many benefits. You got to spend your long life with the most beautiful, loving male in existence and along with him you got an equally adoring family who had taken you in you in as one of their own. It was an honour and a privilege to be part of the high lord’s inner circle and you were extremely grateful for it as well, even if they did get really annoying and loud sometimes. But hey, what family isn’t like that?

But it was smaller moments like this that made your heart grow ten times its size. The first inkling of dawn had started showing in the sky, endless black giving way to brilliant, serene blues. You and Azriel were wrapped up in each other, limbs entangled in the soft silk sheets. A night full of roaming hands and breathless cries had reduced you both to a limbless mess that breathed in tandem, trying to get some rest after spending the entire night awake.

Azriel’s head was tucked into your neck. He lay on top with both his arms wrapped around you. Your hands made slow, comforting passes in his hair and back, careful to avoid his wings, wanting to give the poor male a break after the night’s frenzy.

It way almost ten when you awoke. Unsurprisingly, your mate’s side of the bed was already made up, and cold. Azriel had obviously woken up long before you to go about his daily tasks. That man and his routine. Even a century hadn’t been enough for you to change that. However the absolutely mouth watering smells coming from the kitchen told you that your mate was busy preparing breakfast. Your heart swelled. It never failed to make your heart melt how considerate Azriel was. The little things he did for you made you love the man even more.

Pulling on his shirt from last night, you walked out of your room to the kitchen below. And low and behold, there he stood. Your mate was clad in nothing but loose trousers, chest laid bare for you to stare at. His hair was all ruffled up, partially due to your roaming hands from last night, but it only seemed to make him even more adorable. He didn’t turn to you but you knew he was aware of your presence due to the small shadow that raced out to wrap itself around your wrist.

You walked over to hug your mate from behind. His soothing scent instantly calmed your very being.

“Look who finally woke up,” he remarked. It was a testament to the fact that you knew him so well, you could feel the smile blooming on his face without even opening your eyes.

“Well I was getting rather hungry in bed. And my mate is just such a talented cook, all these aromas are making my mouth water.”

“Is that all I am good for?” he snapped back, a mock frown on his face. Eyebrows furrowing in a way that you had always found cute.

“Hmmm there’s that handsome, handsome face of yours as well,” you started but were interrupted by your own shriek as Azriel turned around and picked you up.

“You naughty, naughty little minx. Why must you always be like this?” he said as he put you down on the counter. Despite his remarks, smiled down at you fondly. Cupping your face in his hands, he kissed your forehead and your heart exploded. It always did whenever Azriel did this. With everyone else he was always so reserved and quiet but with you he was so open and expressive. He always wore his heart on his sleeve and his glistening, gold-hazel eyes always held such love and adoration whenever he looked at you.

The two of you spent the morning just like that; wrapped up in each other, enjoying the delicious arrays of food your mate had prepared. No matter how much you would have loved to spend the entire day with your mate in bed, you knew the two of you had to leave for the House of Wind soon. Cassian would have both your asses if you didn’t show again, especially yours, since he thought you were mostly to blame for keeping Az away from the training ring. If only he knew of his brother’s greedy hands and even naughtier shadows.

Nonetheless you both got ready after a long, long shower. This time however you were truly to blame. Azriel’s glorious body laid bare before you was just too much temptation for you to ignore. Now you sat on the bed, braiding your hair as Az strapped up all his knives. You were too clad in your own leathers and stood to join him when a sudden wave of nausea rolled over you.

At first you thought your head must be spinning because of getting up too fast but then the wave returned once again, ten times stronger now. All of a sudden you had the urge to throw up all your breakfast. Before you could so all over your bedroom floor, you rushed to the bathroom. You had barely reached the toilet when your body decided to hurl your guts out. Everything you had ate came rushing out as you threw up with your head in the toilet seat. A second later you felt your mate’s steady arms around you, his hands gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

After what seemed like ages, you stopped throwing up. Although the sick, nauseous feeling didn’t pass so you lingered there some while more, in case you threw up again. You got up, with Azriel’s arms wrapped around you because you were sure you would fall if you tried to stand on your own.

He sat you down on the bed and kneeled before you, running his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

“Hey, are you okay? What happened?” Az inquired, concern etched across his face. Great. You hated it when he worried so much, about you or anyone else. Leave it you to ruin last night’s good mood.

“I don’t know Az. It just… came over me all of a sudden,” you replied slowly, not having the energy to even form full sentences.

Your head was spinning so bad. Everything was blurred. Putting your feet up, you laid back on the pillow and closed your eyes, trying to appease your aching head. When it didn’t work, you turned to your mate. Azriel was still kneeling in his previous position, the worry flowing from him through the bond melted your heart. Knowing Azriel, he would make you stay in bed all day just so he could take care of you and make sure you were okay. And while that thought was extremely endearing, you were also aware of your mate’s innate anxiousness. He would worry himself a fever of his own if he stayed home all day. So you sat up and got ready to leave once again,

“Well whatever it was, I’m fine now. Let’s go. We’re late already and you know Cassian’s going to start whining if we’re not there soon.”

But Azriel grabbed your arm before you had even gotten up fully and instead started reprimanding you,

“There is no way you’re going to train today. You’re sick, you should rest. I’ll go get Madja as well.”

You knew this would happen. And you also knew that convincing Azriel would be a nightmare. But you truly wanted to go to training today. You missed training with the Valkyries, despite Cassian’s incessant whining.

“Az, I’m fine. I swear. It was just morning sickness, probably because of something I ate..”

Instantly Azriel’s eyes widened. It took you to a second to realize just what you had said, and before you could take back your words, Azriel shot out, voice laced in panic,

“Are you saying the food I made, made you sick?! But… I ate it as well…Everything was fresh..”

“No, no, no. Azriel, baby that’s not what I meant. There was nothing wrong with breakfast alright? It was delicious. If anything I probably ate too much of those heavenly waffles of yours,” you tried to convince him.

“So let me go and get Madja. She’ll tell us for sure what happened,” he repeated.

“Azriel, I promise I’m fine. Truly. Come on, let’s go.”

Azriel didn’t say anything but his eyes showed crystal clear just how much he wanted to protest. At this moment, concern was ebbed into every inch of his beautiful face. And you hated it.

“Az, please. I know you’re worried, but I am completely okay. Whatever that was, it’s gone now. And training is only going to make me feel better. You know how Cassian always says, being active is always the best cure.”

“So you’re quoting Cassian now? I never thought I would see this day,” Azriel taunted.

“Ugh, I am using Cassian’s lines aren’t I? Please don’t tell him. He would never let me live it down,” you begged. You knew Cassian’s ego would become bigger than the mountains around Velaris. Azriel sighed,

“You’re such a hypocrite you know? If I was sick you would have locked me up at home and forced me to rest.”

“That’s because you always push yourself beyond your limits and burn yourself out. I, on the other hand, am perfectly rested and just threw up once,” you tried to reason. Azriel took a minute before asking,

“You promise you’ll take it easy? And you’ll let me know if you get tired?”

“Yes. Yes. I swear.”

Azriel took your hands in his before kissing them both and stood to winnow the two of you to the House of Wind.

………………………………………………………………………………………

As you had expected, Cassian had started yelling as soon as the two of you walked in.

“You know I can’t really think of anything that was so important that you two had to show up an hour late,” the general barked out.

In response you only smirked and replied,

“I can think of a few things, but I can imagine why you can’t.”

Nesta and the others snickered in the corner and so did Azriel before Cassian told you to go warm up. He was deciding what to practice today with Azriel in a corner while you stretched with the girls. All the while you could feel your mate’s watchful gaze. Rolling your eyes, you turned to yet again reassure him that you were fine when you saw his expression turn sour, before he said something to Cassian who only nodded and moved over to the girls waiting. Curious, you walked over to Azriel to ask why he wasn’t joining you guys for training today,

“Everything alright?”

“It’s Rhys. He wants me to go to Ironcrest with him for a meeting,” Az replied dismally. You were well aware of your mate’s aversion of the Illyrian camps and had even worked with him to get over that strong hate of his. And he seemed to be getting over it slowly as well so this moodiness really confused you.

“It’s only for a day, Az. You’ll be fine you big bat,” you joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not that…” If it wasn’t the Illyrians bothering him, then what was…Oh.

“Azriel, darling. How many times do I have to tell you, I am fine. Do you want me to write it down for you?”

Azriel shot you a glare at your words. You knew he was worried but going to Ironcrest might actually be good for him. If anything it would take his mind off of what happened this morning.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Truly?” he asked slowly. You only nodded.

“And you’ll tell me if you feel sick again?”

“Yes, Azriel. Now go work you overbearing bat!” you answered.

Azriel kissed you one last time before winnowing away. You slowly walked over to the others when Cassian remarked,

“The two of you are really useless whenever you’re together, just like a bunch of horny teenagers!”

Feeling particularly snarky, you shot back,

“Why must you take your frustrations out on the rest of us just because you don’t get any action Cassian.”

Later you would find that perhaps you should have kept your mouth shut. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taunted your general and trainer so much. As it turns out Cassian’s response to your jokes would not be another taunt, no, no. That sadistic son of a bitch made all of you train five times harder than you usually did. More laps to be run, more obstacle courses, basically more of everything.

Everyone was getting tired and you could feel some of the priestesses throw you some nasty glares, probably because they blamed you for today’s extra work. Even Gwyn and Nesta, the ones with the biggest mouths, had said,

“You just couldn’t keep quite could you.” As a response, you had only shrugged and continued your exercise.

Now Cassian was having all of you run laps around the training arena, which seemed to expand after every lap. Your legs started to numb and you were becoming more light headed by the second. And you had promised Azriel to take it easy today. Maybe the Shadowsinger was right. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted to take care of yourself.

So after what seemed like your hundredth lap around the arena, you walked over to Cassian. The task difficult in and of itself. By now you were sweating buckets and you could swear your vision was blurring.

“C'mon Cass. I’m sorry okay? We’ve had enough for the day, everyone’s tired. We can train more tomorrow,” you tried to reason with the general.

“You should of thought of that before running your mouth,” he snapped.

“Then let us take a break…”

“Nope. And last I checked you still have ten laps left,” Cassian threw back without remorse.

“Cass I’m serious. I’m really tired. At least let me get some water,” you cried.

“Like I said, ten more laps. Then you can get your water,” Cassian said shortly. Frustrated and tired, you merely flipped him off before running to join the others.

You had managed only one more lap when it happened. Everything was blurred all of a sudden, the voices around you too muffled to comprehend. Your legs numb, too weak to hold up your weight. Darkness started creeping up in the corners of your vision. A sharp pain pierced through your abdomen and you hit the ground.

Nesta had been the one closest to you and had just turned around to make a joke about your slow speed when she saw you crumple to the floor. Yelling your name, she ran to your side.

Upon reaching you, she saw how drained you looked. Your skin that was always glowing and sun kissed was now too pale to be normal. Despite the scorching heat you were cold to the touch. Fear coursed through her very being as she yelled for Cassian on the other side of the arena. Hearing her anguished cry, Cassian turned to them and his eyes widened at the sight before him. The general had been beside them in an instant and after trying to shake you awake, had picked you up and flew you down to the House to get Madja. The valkyries not far behind him.

All the while, guilt and fear seemed to take turns gnawing at his heart. You had told him you were tired, that you needed a break. He had done this to you. Shit. Azriel was going to kill him. After five centuries he was going to die at his brother’s hand. It wasn’t the worst death possible per se. If Azriel went easy on him, that is. Which he probably wouldn’t.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Azriel knew something was wrong as soon they walked out of the suffocating cabin of the Illyrian lords. An ice cold feeling rushed through him and his heart felt as if it had been stabbed with an ashwood arrow. The feeling nearly making him lose his balance as he grabbed the nearest railing for support. His mind jumped to all the worst conclusions. The bond between him and his mate was pulled tight as if trying to hold itself together. The complete and utter silence from you didn’t help either. He quickly sent a message to Rhys that he was leaving and without waiting for a reply, winnowed back to Velaris.

As soon as he arrived, he rushed to where his shadows told him. Instead of seeing you, he was met with Cassian and Nesta, along with Gwyn and Emerie. Nesta opened her mouth to say something but he beat her to it,

“What happened?” His tone laced with deadly iced, only concerned with the well being of his mate, nothing else. It was Nesta who answered yet again,

“Well we were training and running laps when she fainted. She must have gotten tired…”

Although he interrupted her once again as he turned to Cassian and spat at him,

“Damn it Cassian! I asked one thing from you. One fucking thing. I told you to take it easy on her today!”

The general didn’t even have the courage to look his brother in the eye, knowing full well that it was because of him that the woman, who was by all means his sister, was in this state. Although his silence only seemed to enrage the Shadowsinger even more. Azriel moved to probably punch the shit out of him when the door opened and Madja walked out.

Azriel was by her side in a second, asking a thousand questions. But Madja silenced him by only saying,

“She’s perfectly alright Azriel. Go, she’s waiting for you.”

Madja left soon after ushering the rest of them along, without saying anything more to Azriel, only giving him a kind smile. This confused the male even more. Surely if anything was wrong, the healer would have let him know right? While it should have reassured him, the tension slammed back into him like a tidal wave when he re-entered the room and saw you staring blankly at the wall, your hand bunched up in the sheets. Immediately he was by your side. The anxiousness only increased when he put his hands around your face to get your attention but you still stayed silent.

“Darling what’s wrong?” he asked apprehensively. Silence.

“You’re scaring me, love. What did Madja say? Is everything alright? Do you want to see another healer? I can…”

Your heart had dropped when Madja had given you the news. Although you still hadn’t decided whether it had been in a good way or bad way. It’s not like you didn’t want kids. On the contrary, you loved children and had always wanted some of your own. It was just…honestly you don’t even know what’s bothering you. The war with Hybern had been over for almost ten years now. Prythian has been relishing in hard won peace. Sure there were small conflicts here and there between the courts, but even those were on a diplomatic level.

But still… both your jobs were highly dangerous, especially Azriel’s. It was an honour to work for the High Lord of the Night Court, but it came with an inevitable list of enemies who would go to any length to hurt you or your mate. Was it even safe to have a child in such conditions? Was it even fair considering they could be orphaned any day?

And Azriel…what would he think? Would he want this? The two of you had many conversations about having children but it was always in the distant future, never a set time. Some day. Some year. Never had the two of you actually decided when you would start trying.

“I’m pregnant,” was all you let out, in a whisper so low he almost thought he had imagined it. Almost.

“What?”

“I…I’m pregnant,” you repeated.

It was his turn to go silent now. This was… not what he had been expecting. However his silence seemed to have instilled a certain fear in you as you pulled your hands away from him instantly. God, he was an idiot.

You not only pulled your hand away but physically recoiled as you got up and started pacing the room. He remained still where he was. Pregnant. You were pregnant. His mind was thinking a million different things at the same time, trying to process the news you had just given him. It wasn’t like he was against having children. Not at all. It was just that the news was so sudden and had come out of nowhere. But he soon realised he needed to push his own uncertainty aside as he saw tears making their way down your face.

He was instantly at your side, bringing you once again to sit at the bed.

“Hey, its okay. You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” he tried reassuring you. But as a result you only cried harder.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you not happy? You don’t have to do this if you feel like you’re not ready…”

“What? No! No. I thought you… I thought you weren’t happy because you didn’t say anything,” you cried out.

“Of course I want this. I’ve wanted a family with you ever since we first got together. I was just shocked, that’s it. Of course I’m happy you idiot!” he exclaimed before leaning forward and kissing your forehead. The two of you stayed like that for God knows how long; hands intertwined and foreheads together.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, like a secret. A secret so sacred that the thought of sharing it felt like sacrilege.

“We’re having a baby,” you whispered right back.

………………………………………………………………………………………

While the two of you were happier than you had ever been, and it was increasingly difficult to contain said happiness, you both decided that you would keep this from everyone else. At least for the time being. You had made the excuse that you hadn’t been sleeping well which is why you had passed out from exhaustion. Whether or not they had believed you was another story altogether. Although considering everyone knew of how often you and your mate got busy with your activities, the excuse wasn’t entirely unbelievable.

The two of you stayed home together, too overjoyed and overwhelmed with the news to deal with anyone right now. The brilliant orange and yellow of the sky were giving way to the endless black of the night sky as the stars started to appear from behind the clouds. The two of you simply held each other in bed, trying to process and come to terms with the events of the day.

Bringing a baby into this world was a huge deal… the responsibility, the risks. It was all so much. To say you were terrified would be an understatement. But Azriel wanted this and so did you. After the two of you had processed the initial shock, he had kissed you hard and told you just how happy he was, how he was going to be at your side no matter what. It wasn’t like you were having second thoughts, no, you were just scared and uncertain of your abilities.

You turned to look over at your mate. Even though his eyes were closed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping. The moonlight filtering in from the windows cast an ethereal glow over him and made him look even more beautiful than usual, which you didn’t think was possible. Azriel was perfect, in every way that mattered. Even if he disagreed. To you Azriel was the beauty of angels personified for the world to enjoy.

He slowly opened his eyes and took you in,

“Why aren’t you sleeping my love?,” he asked.

“Just thinking,” you answered, intertwining your hands in his. Running your fingers through the scars and ridges, you brought his hand to your mouth and placed a delicate kiss on his knuckles. Though you didn’t miss the shudder that went through him as you did.

“About what?”

“Everything I guess…”you murmured, “Like how are we going to tell everyone?”

“Cauldron, they’re all going to freak out,” Azriel groaned.

“Especially Cassian and Rhysand. Those two are going to go nuts,” you laughed out, truly amused as you tried to imagine your family’s reaction. You knew the two Illyrians would go ballistic at the thought of becoming uncles. Considering the two of you are the first out of the inner circle to have children, it’s not completely unrealistic that they would all be excited.

“Maybe we should just tell Cassian. He would go crazy over it and go tell everyone else. We wouldn’t even have to do anything,” you offered but were met with only silence.

You turned to your mate and saw all the mirth that was there only a few seconds ago, was gone. Now his eyes looked hollow and deep in thought. Despite him not saying anything, you could practically hear the screws twisting and turning in his head, a tell tale sign that he was overthinking. Not wanting to startle him, you nudged him lightly to get his attention,

“What’s wrong, Az? And don’t say nothing,”

He simply turned to you with his sad gaze. The two of you were now laying on your sides, facing each other. You brought your hand to his cheek to comfort him and were relieved when he leaned into the touch. He simply stared at you, as if trying to peer into your soul. Although he didn’t have to try too hard if he ever wanted to. The mating bond the two of you shared was an ever-growing bridge of light between your very beings. After a moment of silence he spoke up,

“I’m scared, my love.”

“I’m scared too darling but I know we can do this together. We..”

“No, you don’t get it. I have no doubts that you’ll be an amazing mother. You’re brave and kind and intelligent… you’re amazing. I… I’m worried I won’t be a good father,” Azriel stated simply. And it was his resigned tone that worried you. As if he truly believed he would be a bad father.

“Why would you ever think something like that?”

“Well it’s not completely unthinkable now is it?” he put forward dejectedly. “I mean you know how my father was. No matter how much I try to deny it, I am his son aren’t I? Who’s to say I won’t turn out like him?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. It seemed unthinkable yet inevitable that Azriel’s mind would wander down that road of self loathing and doubt. In an instant you removed yourself from his embrace and sat up. Turning to him and taking his hands in yours you said,

“Azriel, listen to me. You are nothing like that man. You never have been and never will be. You’re so kind and brave.”

“But what if I am? You know me, you know the things I’ve done, the things I’ve been seen. What if after everything that I have been through, something has broken inside me? What if I become like him.” Azriel laid out all his worries and fears, and each one ripped your soul to shreds. It pained you to see the man you loved, who you thought to be the Mother’s blessing to you, think of himself as such.

“You’re right Az. I do know you. And it is because I know you that I am saying that you are nothing like that monster. Someone like your father wouldn’t love and care for me as you do, wouldn’t be so devoted and loyal to his family like you. You’re perfect as you are my darling. You are not broken. I can say this without a shadow of a doubt because I know your soul, Azriel. It’s bright and warm and loving, just like you. It may have a few cracks but so does mine and so does everyone else’s. But you know why I’m not afraid of that? Because I know you will be there to hold me together if I ever fall apart, just like I would for you, darling.”

Tears made their way down Az’s face. Adoration and gratitude shining in his eyes. You had been aware of Azriel’s self depreciating tendencies even before the mating bond clicked for the either of you. Even then, when the two of you were nothing more than close friends, you had vowed to yourself that you would help Azriel overcome this pointless hatred and see just how brilliant he was.

“I love you, you know that? I love you, Always and Forever,” Azriel whispered between tears. Your heart swelled as Azriel repeated your mating vow. One that has always been special out of all the others.

“Always and Forever,” you mirrored back against his lips as he pulled you in for another kiss. And just like that Azriel spent the entire night reminding you just how much he loved you, the mating bond between your very souls glowing like a bridge of pure light.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Now when all is said and done, you wished you had listened to Azriel. You wish you had not been so damn stubborn for just once in your life and had stayed home. But no. You just had to be thick headed and difficult. It had been almost a week since the two of you found out about the pregnancy and no one else knew yet, your shields had ensured that. Azriel had been by your side for every second of the day and it had been all the more endearing, seeing him so flustered and concerned. Concerned, but happy. He had also been indirectly putting off any missions outside of Velaris. Between your break from training and his from his work, it had become a running gag between the two of you. At night you would retreat to your home and laugh about how long it would take for your family to figure it out.

You had insisted to go out to Velaris with Nesta. The two of you had been wanting to visit a new bookstore that had just opened in the Rainbow. Rumour has it, it held some of the steamiest romance novels in the city, which had pulled the two of you in like moths to a flame. What you hadn’t been aware was that fire pulled in other things as well. Things one would do anything to avoid.

Having purchased nearly half the store, the two of you were well worn out. Well that and you remembered that you had promised Azriel you would stop if you felt yourself beginning to tire, which is why the two of you stopped at a cafe to have lunch. If Azriel had so much of a speckle of doubt that you were over straining yourself, that fussy mother hen wouldn’t let you go anywhere alone for the next nine months. Perhaps you should have shared his sentiments. Perhaps it was you taking this utter blessing for granted that had led to this.

It all happened so fast that you don’t even recall what exactly did happen. Nesta had gone to order the two of you some ice cream and brownies from the cafe while you sat at the table outside with your books, giving your sore feet some well desired rest. However the heat started getting to your head and the though of the absolutely exquisite, freezing chocolate ice cream felt as relieving as an oasis in a desert. Riddled with impatience, you threw your bag in a corner and stood to follow the brunette into the cafe.

You had taken merely a couple steps from your table when a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your body froze at the intrusion and before you could scream, the instigator clasped their hand over your mouth, rendering you speechless. Thrashing against them proved pointless, not that you wanted it to escalate to a physical fight. Though you would have had no qualms about teaching this bastard a lesson, you knew things were now different. You could not risk your baby no matter what. As a second resort you tried to call on your powers but an ice cold rush of fear went through your body when nothing came. Nothing. You could feel nothing. Not an ounce of that soaring spark you always felt as your power flew to the surface.

Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilizing you; your brain, holding you captive. You were paralysed as you realised you couldn’t escape. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when you and your mate had just gotten this good news.

As a pathetic last resort, you thrashed against the person holding you once again, a cry of panic made its way out but was muffled once again. All of a sudden a piece of cloth was put to your face. Disgusted by the utter stench of it, you tried to recoil but were only pushed further into it. Whatever it was, it was working. In the end you had been right. It really was too dangerous for you and Azriel to have a baby. The two of you had too many enemies, though some distant part of your mind wondered which one you were faced with now, and how they had found out. Your muscles started numbing and your vision darkened.

And everything went black.

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