#cassian mating bond

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years. 

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?” 

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table. 

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks. 

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.  

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting. 

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked. 

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort. 

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone. 

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight. 

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys. 

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.” 

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you. 

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience. 

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him. 

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit. 

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board. 

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps. 

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance.  “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to. 

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say. 

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.” 

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it. 

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots. 

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered. 

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding. 

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust. 

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back. 

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to. 

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started. 

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue. 

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.” 

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past. 

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer. 

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords. 

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her. 

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones. 

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness. 

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways. 

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth. 

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black. 

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep. 

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris. 

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them. 

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home. 

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter. 

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly. 

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly. 

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.” 

Rhys quirked his brow. 

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.” 

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle. 

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.” 

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first. 

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him. 

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within. 

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords. 

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle. 

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.  

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell. 

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own. 

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon. 

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most. 

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew. 

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.  

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it. 

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer. 

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing. 

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.” 

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father. 

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open. 

“I merely want to break your bond.” 

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust. 

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️  Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️ 

[dustbuniesworld]

Unfaltering

Part I < Masterlist > Part II

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Summary: After you are defended by the Shadowsinger and the mate bond snaps into place a conversation must be had.

Warnings: Angst, talk of violence, fluff

Your POV

2 hours ago ~

You held your reddened cheek in disbelief, Nolan had struck you. In front of Azriel no less. Azriel your best friend, the shadowsinger of the Night court, who had pounced on Nolan immediately after you were struck. Frozen in place you could only watch as Azriel brutalized Nolan, blood began to leak from his nose as he took the full force of the spymaster’s punches. Rhysand and Cassian pushed past you and grabbed Azriel under his arms and pulled him away from Nolan.

While he was being dragged across the bar her pointed a finger at Nolan and said “Don’t you ever touch her again” through gritted teeth. You stood there and looked down at Nolan, who groaned as he tried to get up, he looked at you and reached out a hand. You scoffed. “We’re over Nolan. I don’t like males who hit females, but can’t take on another male”. Turning you walked toward where the three brothers stood and locked eyes with a pair of hazel ones. In that same moment as your eyes met Azriel’s the mating bond snapped into place.

Present~

At the House of Wind you stood in you en suite bathroom and examined your face in the mirror. An angry hand print was still present on your face, you didn’t realize the force Nolan had used when he slapped you until now. Your examination was interrupted by yelling in the hall. You moved from the bathroom to your door and swung it open not caring if the boys saw you listening in or not. After all you were the wronged party in this. “The bastard hit her, what was I supposed to do”, Azriel yelled incredulously. Rhysand sighed pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “Az, I’m not saying that hitting him back was wrong, I would have done the same in your position, but you didn’t have to take it that far”.

Cassian walked up the hallway and stopped next to the High Lord, “Just received word from Madja’s apprentice, Nolan is fine, he’s in recovery”, he spoke bitterly. Azriel looked to Rhys, gesturing toward his other brother with one hand, “See the little worm survived”. You giggled quietly at the expression on Rhysand’s face. Azriel was giving him a run for his money with this bar room brawl in my honor. “Azriel, you still didn’t need to be as brutal”, Az interrupted him, “You don’t understand she is my mate I reacted out of instinct”. Cassian looked at Azriel in surprise, “Our Flower is your mate” he asked, the brightest smile breaking out on his face. Azriel smiled back at his brother and nodded. Rhysand couldn’t help his own smile, his earlier frustration disappearing, “How long have you known, does she know” he questioned.

The dim hallway seemed to become shorter, bring you closer to him, Azriel knew you were his mate. You kept quiet in the shadows of the hall, waiting for your moment to present itself. Azriel spoke once more to his brothers, “It happened just tonight, and I don’t think that she knows. Let alone that she will speak to me ever again. I did turn her boyfriend’s face into soup”. A laughed escaped you before you could stop it, and all three male’s turned to look at you surprise written into their faces, and it only made you laugh harder. You couldn’t help it, they all looked so ridiculous. “We’ll leave you alone”, Rhysand said, grabbing Cassian by the collar and leading him away from you and your mate. “Azriel, thank you”, you spoke softly, looking up at the male and moving from your bedroom door to his. “For defending me, I didn’t think that he would’ve actually hit me, let alone in front of you, but hindsight is 20/20” you said again, letting your words wipe the confusion from eyes. Azriel cleared his throat and shifted slightly, so slight it was almost unnoticeable. You noticed though, “Az, are you nervous”, you asked humor lacing your voice, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Azriel let a breath loose, and looked down at you “How much did you hear”, he asked. You could tell he was bracing himself for rejection, poor Azriel had a habit of thinking himself unloveable. You searched inside yourself, reaching for the thread connecting your souls together and pulled hard as you whispered “Everything”. A gasp left the shadowsinger’s lips and his eyes filled with surprise and joy. A smile laced his lips and he said quietly, “You feel it”, you smiled back at him “of course I do Az, you’re my mate” you replied. The warmth of the moment faded a little, “You don’t have to accept the bond if you don’t want too, I understand that you are in a relationship”, Azriel spoke softly, his words carefully chosen. You looked at him, letting the shock and disbelief show in your eyes. How could he think that you wouldn’t accept the bond, you had been longing for him for decades. You only entertained this relationship with Nolan because you thought you would never have a chance with Azriel and you decided to try and move on. Looking at him, Azriel stood tall but his shoulders slouched and there was sadness in his eyes. He must have thought his fate was already decided you guessed.

Shaking your head you looked up at him, stepping closer and placing a hand flat against his chest, you said, “I couldn’t be happier to know that you are my mate, in fact come on”. Grabbing his hand you led him to the dinning room and pushed him into a chair. Heading into the kitchen you began opening cabinets, grabbing ingredients you thought were best. The recipe came natural to you, just as your mother told you it would. It was an old family recipe you had made it before but this was a special occasion. Making the food didn’t take long, and when it was finished you smiled to yourself. Plating the meal you brought it out to Azriel and set it on the table in front of him, the male looked up at you in disbelief. “Eat”, you said smiling. Not having to be told twice Azriel picked up his fork and began eating, savoring each bite. His eyes brimming with tears as he finished, he wiped his mouth as he stood and turned to you. Smiling the brightest you have ever seen him, he picked you up and spun you around the dining room. Muffled whoops and cheers made you both stop to look out the window and you saw Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta. All smiling and cheering for you and Azriel. Your mate turned to you, “I have waiting centuries for you Flower, now you are bound to me forever”. The happiness in his voice evident, and infectious.

[soulessjourney]

Shattered Bonds

A/N: I'm back after a very much long needed break! Between starting a new job and graduating, things have been super hectic. So, why not come back with an angsty fanfic with Azriel? I also may or may not be working on the long-awaited part 2 of 'Exile'.

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After being injured in battle, Azriel is consumed by guilt. But when you finally wake, you're confronted with the harsh reality that perhaps you were always replaceable.

Warnings: Violence, Language, hurt no comfort, Azriel lowkey is a dick, Injured Reader, Angst, Duel(ish) POV, Mentions of pregnancy

Death and smoke fill your lungs. A sticky substance clings to your skin, though at this point, you're unsure if it’s yours or someone else’s. Metal clashes against metal, and your hands sting from both the vibration and the rawness caused by gripping the sword's hilt. You pivot on your foot, turning quickly to keep up with your opponent, your blades moving at lightning speed. Then, you feel a foot slam into your stomach, sending you flying backward across the rough brick ground. The surface tears into your skin like tiny knives, shredding your clothes in the process.

You scramble to your feet, your eyes darting around for your attacker. Instead, they land on a blue glow and dark hair. Azriel. But before you can process this, a sharp pain stabs your side. Gasping, you turn and plunge your sword into your attacker, your eyes blazing with fury. You lock onto the wide eyes of your victim just as another sharp pain strikes your stomach. Looking down, you see something silver protruding from your abdomen.

Green wisps shoot out from you, your lip curling as blood dribbles from the corner of your mouth. You drive the sword deeper into him as he begins to gag, foam forming at the edges of his mouth. You watch as he collapses to the ground, clawing at his neck before eventually falling still. Staggering back, you wince at the ever-growing burn in your abdomen, the green wisps swirling as if seeking something.

You fall back against the crumbling building behind you, sliding down the wall as you tilt your head back, feeling the weight of your exhaustion. Your vision blurs, your mind hazy, as you clutch your stomach, finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. A red glow catches your attention, and someone sprints toward you, dropping to their knees, unsure hands hovering over your wound.

“Cassian?” Your voice is frail, barely a whisper. If your mother could hear you now, she’d be laughing in pure disappointment.

Cassian smiles down at you and gently brushes the hair from your face. “Hey there, Bug. Hang on for me, alright? Azriel is coming.” You smile at the nickname he gave you when you were younger, back when you had an obsession with ladybugs.

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean into him. “It hurts, Cass,” you mumble, wincing as you shift, trying to find some comfort.

“I know, I know. But you did such a good job,” he whispers, combing your hair back before pressing his hands firmly against your wound to stem the bleeding.

The world around you seems to darken, and you glance up to meet the eyes of your mate. Smiling weakly, you reach out to him. “Hey, Az,” you whisper as your eyes flutter closed. His horrified expression tells you everything—the wound isn’t something that can be easily fixed. In other words, it’s a "you might die" kind of wound. Joy.

Azriel looked pale, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened. He gently pulls you toward him, holding you close as his thumb strokes softly across your cheek. His gaze darts around frantically before locking onto Cassian.

“We need to get her back. She’s not going to survive. Let Rhys and the others know,” he says, urgency clear in his voice.

Leaning into him, you feel the comforting embrace of his shadows surrounding you. Your eyes grow heavy, and before long, sleep overtakes you.

Azriel paced around the room as you lay motionless in the bed. Every glance at you gnawed at his heart, guilt consuming him. His shadows hadn't left your side, hovering as if trying to heal you somehow. His pacing came to an abrupt stop when his brothers and Madja entered the room. Azriel didn’t miss the more somber expressions they wore, and even Madja's eyes seemed duller than before.

He turned to them, desperation shining in his gaze. “Well? What did Madja say?” he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a look, as if communicating silently. Cassian nodded, then pursed his lips before facing Azriel.

“Well, there’s a chance Y/N could make it,” Cassian said gently.

Azriel felt as though his ears were ringing. A chance. Just a chance that you might wake up and survive. It wasn't a guarantee, only a possibility. His frustration boiled over. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Can’t we do something to wake her? If not, why did we even bring her back?” he spat, his shadows retracting toward him, draping over his shoulders like a dark cape.

Madja shook her head as she finished changing the dressing on your wounds. “We’ve done all we can, boy. It's her fight now. I suggest you stay here—if she wakes, the first thing she’ll want is her mate,” Madja said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You need to be there for her, as she has been for you countless times.”

With that, she nodded to the brothers and quietly left the room, the door clicking softly behind her.

Azriel clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the ground. Cassian, already knowing what his brother was about to say, gently gripped his shoulder. “It’s not—”

“But it is my fault," Azriel snapped. "She wanted to stay behind and protect Feyre and the others, and I convinced her to come because I couldn’t bear to be away from her for so long. She was unsure of her skills, and I talked her into it. I’m to blame for all of this. I almost got my mate killed.” He spun, his gaze shifting between his brothers and you.

Rhysand sighed, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against. “Az, Cassian’s right. You can’t blame yourself for this. Y/N was already set on coming. She talked to me about it—she was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you stranded in battle while she stayed behind.”

Azriel let out a low growl, his siphons flashing, causing Cassian to tense. “Either way, I couldn’t protect her. And now look at her—she’s fighting for her life, and I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up.” He stepped closer to you, sinking into the chair beside your bed and gently taking your hand. “Just give me some time alone. I need to think while still being here for her,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on your chest, searching for any sign of your shallow breathing.

Cassian opened his mouth to respond, but Rhysand placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently, Cassian closed his mouth, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, Rhysand following close behind. The door clicked shut, leaving Azriel alone in the deafening silence.

Azriel let his eyes trace over your face, as if committing every feature, every imperfection to memory. Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stayed by your side, like you asked. I shouldn’t have fought with you about it. You needed me, and I turned my back on you, and this is the result.”

He felt like a danger to you. Even if you survived, he believed he would only continue to put you in harm's way. You could never have a peaceful life with him. All he wanted was for you to be safe and happy, but he’d failed when it mattered most. You were his entire universe, and yet he couldn’t protect you. He had convinced himself that by staying by his side, you would never be safe—that he didn’t deserve you, not if it meant you ended up like this.

The door creaked open, and Elain poked her head in, glancing around. Stepping in, she cleared her throat softly. “Oh, Azriel, I didn’t realize you’d be here. I thought you were still with Madja and the others,” she said gently. Noticing his gaze on the moon lilies, she smiled and approached the table next to your bed. “Moon lilies. They were her favorite. For a while, I thought she was going to take over the whole garden with them. Luckily, I talked her into taking over the area by the pond. It’s beautiful with the flowers there,” Elain said, smiling down at you.

Azriel looked up at Elain, his expression unreadable. Letting go of your hand, he stood and cleared his throat. “Speaking of the flowers, I saw you loading the cart earlier. I assume you’re making rounds around Velaris to hand them out. Would you like some help?” he asked, his voice even.

Their eyes met, and Elain studied him for a moment, as if searching for the intent behind his offer. After a brief hesitation, she nodded and motioned toward the door.

You pace around the room, your leathers hugging you tightly. Nesta had spent hours wrestling with your hair, her shaky hands finally managing to braid it back. She’d have a fit if she saw the strands that had already fallen loose. Chewing on your nail, your gaze snaps to Azriel, who watches you from the bed. “I don’t know about this, Az. We still don’t know what I’m capable of. What if I hurt the wrong person?” you ask, your pacing quickening slightly.

Azriel huffs as he continues sharpening Truth-Teller. “Stop worrying so much. It’s war, Y/N. Accidents are going to happen. You can’t always prevent them. One day, you’ll have to face the reality of what you can do and accept it. I can’t always be there to shield you from the harsh truths.” His tone is sharp, and it brings you to an abrupt halt.

“I’m not asking you to shield me, Azriel. I’m asking you to be there if I lose control,” you push back, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel tenses at the use of his full name.

Setting the dagger in his lap, he turns to face you. “And I can’t do that. My place is by Rhysand’s side, and you know that. I can’t abandon him just to keep you safe all the time. This is your chance to learn how to handle things on your own for once.”

A dry laugh escapes you, and you throw your hands up in frustration. “I never asked you to abandon him, Azriel! You were the one who insisted I come with you—especially when we don’t know what I’m capable of or that I can’t control these abilities yet. So, I’m sorry if I’m a little scared,” you say, your voice catching.

Azriel scoffs as he stands, gathering his things. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Y/N. And if not, just don’t die. We don’t need more problems weighing down the court.” His words hit you like a blow, leaving you speechless, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Taking your silence as an answer, Azriel turns his back and walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, staring at the door.

Your eyes snap open as a rush of air fills your lungs. Choking, you cough violently, feeling a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. Your body tenses at the unfamiliar touch, and you instinctively jerk back, putting distance between yourself and the unknown figure.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s okay,” a familiar voice reassures. As your vision clears, you find yourself face to face with Cassian, his frown deepening at your reaction.

Relaxing slightly, you offer him a small smile and shift back into your original position. “Where’s Azriel?” you ask, noticing something flicker in his eyes, though you can’t quite identify the emotion. Maybe you weren’t fully awake enough to process it. Glancing around the room, you spot a few vases of dead flowers and a subtle change in the decor. Confusion clouds your face. “Cassian, how long have I been asleep?”

Cassian clears his throat, looking away as he gathers his thoughts. “It’s been about ten months,” he finally says.

It feels like a jolt of electricity surges through you. Ignoring his protests, you slide out of bed and limp toward the window. “Ten months? How—what—there’s no way,” you mutter, staring at your reflection in the glass. You turn your head from side to side, inspecting your appearance. Your face had slimmed significantly, and your eyes were slightly sunken. You still looked like yourself, but there was something off, something different. “Cassian, where is Azriel? Is he on a mission?”

Cassian sighs, running a hand over his face as he averts his gaze once again. “It’s better if I show you rather than tell you,” he mutters, glaring toward the door. “Get cleaned up, and once you’re ready, we’ll head downstairs,” he says, moving to sit on one of the couches. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.”

Nodding slowly, you turn toward the bathroom and walk in to bathe. You were somewhat clean, but it was clear they had only managed to wash the areas they could reach with a small towel. At least they had taken care of you, in some way. Stepping into the bath, you sink into the water, staring blankly at the wall. Ten months. You had been in that state for ten months, leaving your family to wait and worry.

Your thoughts drift to Azriel. Why hadn’t he been there when you woke? Why did the other end of the bond feel so empty and cold?

Sucking in a deep breath, you tug on the bond, holding it tight as you wait for a response. But when none comes, your heart clenches. Panic sets in as you hurriedly finish bathing and dressing. Throwing the door open, you face Cassian. “Has something happened to Azriel? Is he alright?”

Cassian lets out a dry snort and stands. “Yeah, something happened,” he mutters, offering you his arm. Taking it, you shoot him a confused look as the two of you walk together. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”

As you and Cassian descend the stairs, the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and silverware fill the air. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you step into the room. Mor is the first to notice you, her eyes brimming with tears as she suddenly stands and rushes toward you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Please don’t tell me this is a dream,” she rasps, clinging to you.

You and Mor had always been like sisters. Growing up surrounded by the boys, her arrival in your life had been a blessing.

“It’s not a dream,” you whisper, hugging her back just as tightly. But after a few moments, you feel Mor tense, as if she suddenly remembered something. She pulls away, giving you a sad smile that only deepens your confusion. As you look around the room, everyone avoids your gaze, though a palpable tension hangs in the air, laced with something like anger.

Your eyes shift between them, trying to understand, until they finally land on Azriel. He sits frozen, fork midair, eyes wide, body rigid. Next to him, Elaine quickly looks away, nervously biting her lip—a habit she had whenever she felt guilty about something.

“Azriel?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name seems to snap him out of his stupor, and he drops his fork, spilling his drink onto Elaine’s lap.

Elaine stands abruptly, and your eyes widen in shock. Before you, a very pregnant Elaine rises, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. Your gaze travels downward, catching the glint of a ring on her finger. “You and Lucien finally made it official?” you ask, a smile breaking across your face. “I’m so happy for you!” You laugh, but the sound dies quickly when you notice everyone else’s glances shifting toward Azriel.

That’s when you see it—something you had somehow missed before. On his finger, where he once wore the engagement ring meant for you, sits a wedding band, one that matches Elaine’s.

A chill runs down your spine as your eyes snap back to his. The room feels suddenly colder, and you feel the ground give way beneath you.

“No…” you whisper, your vision blurring as the weight of it all crashes down on you.

The ring on your finger suddenly felt like it was searing into your skin, and you blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling. "This is a joke, right? Some sick prank you both decided to pull?" When silence met your words, the rage inside you began to swell, and your breathing quickened. "So you’re telling me that while I was fighting for my life, you were out here screwing Elain, and somewhere along the way, you got married—and the best part? She’s pregnant?"

Something snapped inside you, and from the corner of your eye, you saw green wisps materialize, curling around you like tendrils of raw power.

Rhysand stood abruptly, and Cassian shifted closer to Nesta, instinctively protective. “Y/N, you need to breathe. I understand you're angry, but this isn’t the place to test your abilities after being asleep for ten months,” Rhysand said, trying to calm you.

You shook your head, fists clenched. “You want me to calm down? My supposed mate left me to rot in that room, just so he could chase after Elain. He abandoned me and every promise he made! I didn’t ask to be in that room—I didn’t ask to get hurt. So why should I bow down to your request when the real traitor is right here in front of all of you!”

With a final burst of fury, a smoky green tendril shot out, aimed directly at Azriel and Elain. His shadows barely blocked the blow. Elain screamed, curling in on herself to protect her stomach, while Azriel staggered back, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through the bond. The betrayal, the hurt, the rage—all of it hit him like a wave, causing him to drop to his knees, gasping for breath.

You stepped closer, looming over him, and pulled the ring from your finger, letting it fall to the ground in front of him. Azriel picked it up without hesitation, his eyes wide with guilt.

"Don’t look at me like that, Azriel. It makes you look pathetic," you spat. "You chose this the moment you left me in that room to chase after Elain. After 200 years together, I was never going to compare to her, even as your mate. You’ve made it clear, Azriel—I’m replaceable."

You took a step back, but Azriel’s hand shot out, catching yours in desperation. “Y/N, you don’t understand—you can’t do this. Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his voice broken, his face twisted with regret.

Seeing him on his knees, begging—it made you feel sick.

You pulled your hand away, standing tall as the green tendrils swirled and coiled around you, making you seem larger than life. "I can, because you left me to die the moment you chose Elain over me. You made your bed, Azriel—now lie in it. Don’t bother looking for me, because if you do, I’ll do everything in my power to destroy you."

With those final words, you turned and walked out, leaving behind your family, your home, and every happy memory you once held dear. All that was left was anger and a thirst for vengeance.

A/N: I do hope you guys enjoyed! It may not be the best after a long time away, but I figured it was a great way to finally make my comeback after so long!

[knifedippedinichor]

A Court of Thorns and Roses / A Court of Wings and Ruin: ..And they held on to dear life...

[thelov3lybookworm]

Rewrite Fate

Summary: He does not care what the fans say, and so shouldn't she

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Word Count: 1390 (including comments and captions <3)

Warnings: a bit of agst and a tinyyy tiny argument but cass is adorable teehee 😋

A/n: ughh i love cassian hes so a ASDJAFKSHKJHDJKHS🥹

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

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cassian_winkwink

liked by rhysand-thegreat, gwynshusband, gwyn-the-berdara and 490,559 others

cassian_winkwink new song on repeat, guess which one 💪🏻lets see who guesses it 🥳

view all comments

gwyn-the-berdara hmmmmmm idk twinkle twinkle little star?

rhysand-thegreat i think its baby shark this time

gwyn-the-berdara aah i see i see 🤭

cassian_winkwink you two are so annoying gosh

imjustagirl1995 strangle me daddy 🤤💦

getsunghoonedloser girl u crazyyy

y/nislovesickgirl rewrite the stars?

cassian_winkwink correctttt 🥳🥳🥳

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Soft sunlight penetrated Y/n’s slumber, letting her know it was far past the time for her to wake up.

But she didn’t want to, especially as the warm weight resting on her body refused to budge at her stirring.

Y/n blinked her eyes open, instantly finding the beautiful face of her beloved. His eyes were still closed, his lashes fluttering. Y/n wondered if he was dreaming, wondered what he was dreaming about. She raised her hand to touch his unbound hair lightly, feeling the strands sifting through her fingers and focusing on the feeling of warmth it induced in her chest instead of the coiling pit of sadness in her stomach.

Cassian’s brows furrowed, and he shifted to snuggle deeper into her chest. It made Y/n smile, and she dug her fingers deeper into his scalp, massaging gently.

"Y/n?" His voice was soft and rough as he peered up at her, his eyes narrowed to get adjusted at the sudden light assaulting his senses. She offered him a smile.

"Hello."

He smiled back sleepily, sighing as he leaned up and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Hey."

"Sleep well?"

She felt him smile against her skin. "Baby, sleeping next to you? I always have the best sleep."

She giggled, drawing circles on his shoulder. "I see."

He pulled away. "You’re supposed to say it back. Say, ‘oh same! I love sleeping next to you too Cassian’."

Y/n rolled her eyes, moving to push off the covers from her body, her heart beating gently in her chest at the softness of the morning. But he didn’t let her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her body, caging her in like his life depended on it.

Considering it was Cassian, he probably would claim it did.

"Cass, we need to get up." Y/n turned her head to search for her phone, trying to grab it from the nightstand, but Cassian’s hand snatched it from her before she could check the time.

"Nope. I deserve some love. Say it."

She shot him an incredulous look, but relented, speaking with exaggerated movements and a high pitched voice. "Oh Cassian! I love waking up next to you!"

He grinned, the lopsided tilt making his dimple peek out from his cheek. "Not the same words, but I can work with that."

Y/n hit him on the shoulder, sitting up.  He moved back to sit too, then scooted closer so one of his folded legs rested on her lap.

"So, what are the plans for today?"

Y/n raised a brow, her hands wandering to rest on his thighs involuntarily. "The plan is that you sneak out, go home, then go about your day. Or get yelled at by your manager. Pick what you want."

Cassian’s smile instantly was replaced by a scowl. "No. I said what are the plans for today, and that means what are our plans for today."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her eyes, knowing what conversation was coming and having had it far too many times by now. "Cass, you know we can’t be seen together-"

"Y/n I don’t see the problem in it! Who is anyone to tell me- or you- who to date?"

"You have a fanbase to appeal to and a reputation to uphold Cassian, and they won’t like it, you know that."

He released a frustrated breath. "Y/n, I really, really do not care what any of them think. Not if it means I have to hide my love for you and act like we have nothing going on."

"Your manager agrees we should keep it under wraps for now, Cass."

"You know I want you. You’re not a secret I want to hide. And you know you want me too, so please stop saying our hands are tied."

Y/n sighed, pushing off the urge to giggle as Cassian effortlessly slipped into his newest role of being the flirty character who’s too poetic for the sanity of the girls around him.

"Cass, you know the fans will get upset. They will do their best to break us up."

"And we won’t, because we’re stronger than that."

Y/n paused, staring deep into his eyes, the hazel that she had been intrigued by even the first time she saw them, before he even noticed her in class. They were so pretty, she could die staring at them and not complain.

They brought her peace, they showered her with the love she always craved.

"Cass, they will think I’m a gold digger, only after your fame and money."

"Are you, though?"

Y/n blinked, surprised. "What?"

"You said they’d think you are a gold digger. Are you?"

She wondered if he’d finally lost his mind. "No, Cass."

He shrugged, taking her hands into his larger ones, enveloping them completely. "Then what’s the problem? Let them think whatever they want to. I know you’re not only with me for superficial reasons, and you know that too. It is only us and our thoughts that matter."

Y/n felt her eyes go wet, but she smiled and shoved his shoulder. "I don’t know what they feed you at the set. Is it some sort of drug that isn’t getting off? Why are you being so cheesy?"

She blinked away the tears forming and found him grinning at her, his head cocked and gaze fixated on her. He looked almost… lovesick.

"I have to be cheesy, after all I play the role of the silly one in this relationship, no?"

Y/n sniffled, looking away for a moment. "And yet you’re the intelligent one."

Cassian gently tugged on her hands, making her meet his gaze. "Rhys and Az would laugh if you said that, you know."

Y/n’s brows furrowed. "You’re always happy doesn’t mean you are dumb, Cass."

His eyes softened. "I know, baby."

She huffed, pulling her hands away from his hold and wiggling out from under him. He watched her intently, his hands hovering around her as she crawled into his lap before wrapping them around her.

"You’re very smart, Cass."

He laughed, hugging her tighter as she placed her head in his neck. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded quietly, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"So? Do we agree that we should let everyone know?" He mumbled, one of his hands rubbing her back.

"Cass, are you sure?"

"I’ve been sure since day one, sweetheart. You are the only one I want, as a girlfriend, as a wife, as the mother of my kids. It will always be you. The opinions of a select few fans will not change that. And if they don’t like it, I can always stop acting. I mean, you matter to me more than anything."

She peered up at him, feeling tears gather at her waterline again. "I love you so much, Cass. And you don’t have to do that."

He smiled down at her, his eyes warm and soft as he moved to peck her forehead. "I love you too, Y/n. And I will if they’re too mean to you."

Y/n could predict his next actions as he began kissing her cheek, the nose. Before he could touch his lips to hers, she slapped him on the bicep.

"Brush your teeth first, asshole."

He laughed, nuzzling into her cheek again. "As my love wishes."

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y/nislovesickgirl

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y/nislovesickgirl soft launch? hard launch? you pick teehee @ cassian_winkwink

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rhysand-thegreat finally!! they're public yayy 🥳

cassian_winkwink it took some persuasion but here we are 🥹

feyre-archer-on omg im so happy for you two girly 🥹

y/nislovesickgirl 🥹❣️

imjustagirl1995 O.M.G.???????? CASSIAN HAS A GIRL????

cassian_winkwink since i was in uni 😏

getsunghoonedloser OH MY GOSH WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS 😦

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[hyacinthoideshispanica]

Rhys: The mating bond is rare! Only if you're very lucky and blessed by the Mother, will you have one.

Rhysand's parents = Mates

Tamlin's parents = Mates

Kallias and Viviane = Mates

LoA and Helion = Possibly mates

Rhys and Feyre = Mates

Nesta and Cassian = Mates

Elain and Lucien = Mates

Me: 5 of these 7 couples/potential couples only met because they traveled out of their home court. So, are mates actually rare, or do they just seem rare because of the lack of movement and interaction between the various Courts and the human lands?

[daughter-of-lethe]

Art: @knifedippedinichor

Feysand

Nessian

Elucien

[sideb-alicenchanted]

I love your Taryn series so much. I have a request you're free to reject. Would you do Nyx being outright rejected by his mate, completely refusing to give him a chance (Elucien style but unlike Elain, no trauma reasoning is involved) and the IC discussing it? He could potentially go insane over this so I am really curious about whether they would meddle. You could make her anyone at all, just not directly approachable so some High Lord's daughter, maybe Eris?

Lords of Choice, Part 1

Eris Vanserra’s Daughter X Nyx Archeron

Summary: Eris Vanserra's daughter Enid attends the Winter Solstice revel in the Hewn City to show respect to the Night Court. After finding out her mate is Nyx Archeron, she finds her respect slowly running dry. Her attempts to reject the bond spark concerns amongst the Courts, and their leaders most of all.

Pairings: Broken Mating Bond!! Nyx x Vanserra!OC, Feyre x Rhysand, Nesta x Cassian, Elain x Azriel

Word Count: 5,652

Warnings: mentions of groping, but nothing really terrible

Author's Note: Hello guys! This was my very first request so I hope I did it justice!! I absolutely loved taking this prompt, thank you so much lovely anon. I wanted to post the first bit so you don’t think I forgot about you bc this is lowkey getting long. Enid Vanserra is an original character. She and Nyx are both adults in this fic, which probably means second century of life? Idk Fae math. Also, I typically favor Elucien, but Elriel just worked too well for this fic... but no spoilers for part two. This is a little indulgent and slice of life-y but i couldn't help myself oops

Also, here is a little drawing I did of Enid

Read on Ao3

“Agh, not so tight, Dad-” 

Eris clicked his tongue at the grumble. “Hush now, it's almost perfect. And remember, you call me ‘father’ once we’re in the Court of Nightmares. ” He teased the strands of deep red hair atop Enid’s head into an elegant knot. She would need it out of the way at a revel, not swishing down past her waist with every twirl. Her hair gleamed, coated in some kind of pomade that smelled like nutmeg and horribly burnt herbs. “There… beautiful.”

“Thank you, father.”

“Better.” He smiled, his expression fond for only a moment, before dropping into a cool indifference. Enid wouldn’t- couldn’t- blame him for the distance her father had to keep from her. The Night Court could see her as his weakness. 

Snow billowed outside the window of the Autumn Court’s manor as Enid made the necessary last minute fixes. Her dress, a satin burnt umber, made her look pale. That was the beauty standard in the Hewn City, where Night fae hated the complexions of those allowed outside the cavernous mountain. Her hair was perfect, pinned with brass leaves and chips of ruby. It was the Winter Solstice, but she felt proud to be a child of Autumn. Eris had an eye for this sort of thing. Elsewhere, it was a mother’s job to prepare a daughter for a gala. Enid did not know her mother, and did not need to. 

Her father was very honest with her about her birth. Her mother was a high fae from the Autumn Court. Enid’s grandfather, the late Beron Vanserra, had coerced her into carrying Eris’s heir. Eris had many brothers, her Uncle Lucien was her favorite, but many of them were forced into the position of soldiers as soon as Eris’s strength gestured to his eventual lordship. A few of his brothers had died on the front lines in the war against Koschei almost a century ago, and the need for Eris to have an heir became urgent.

Not having a mother around didn’t really make a difference in her life, Enid felt. Whatever protective instinct that existed innately for a mother, Eris had ten fold. He was as doting as a hen… aside from the Court revels. 

“Don’t wear those shoes,” Eris scolded, passing into Enid’s bedroom to chide her. “You’ll look like a fool. Wear these.” He held out a pair of slippers. “They’re enchanted,” he said proudly, a smug grin on his face that told her he knew exactly how perfect they were.

As she slid them on, she watched the color change, slowly darkening from a simple brown into the exact same shade of cinnamon as her dress. Enid’s eyes lit up at the sight, and she hugged her father tightly. Eris only indulged her embrace for a minute, but it was enough for her. She cleared her throat and stood up straight. “Thank you, father.”

He smiled, “You’re most welcome, Lady Vanserra.”

She did not bristle at the title, though it felt strange. Would it be High Lady, one day? The idea of leadership plagued her mind as Eris held her arm, winnowing them both to one of the entrances to the Hewn City. 

They stepped through that invisible path through space, entering a snowy grove. Enid watched the white, grassy path in front of them fade into dull rock as they began the descent into the ground. Flickering sconces of cold, bright faelight flickered to life, guiding them into the mountain’s heart. She looked up at her dad- father, but he stared ahead, his eyes trained on the ballroom ahead of them. Eris was a picture of unyielding strength, everything she herself wanted to be when- if- she were one day High Lady. 

As of right now, there was only one High Lady in the seven courts of Prythian. Enid made eye contact with her as they entered the ballroom. Feyre Archeron. She sat atop a throne of onyx, equally as impressive as the High Lord of Night’s throne. The High Lady held Enid’s gaze for a few moments, and she smiled just a little when Enid didn’t back down. And then the Lady’s gaze was elsewhere, searching through the crowd for someone else to torment with her stare. 

Enid felt her father stiffen. It would be imperceptible to the crowd, but not to her. They walked carefully, neatly up a velvet carpet. She had practiced this moment. Eris halted at the end, standing before the Lord and Lady’s thrones. He dipped his chin, a show of respect to his equals, but only Lord Rhysand returned the gesture.  Enid followed suit, curtseying as low as she could without faltering, a gesture proper for her own station. Everything about these ‘revels’ was rigorous social play. Calling it a party, or a festival, was so generous it became a lie. 

Enid watched the entourage of fae behind Rhysand, the Inner Circle. According to her lessons, they would also be required to bow. Eris’s position trumped their own, even if the festival was hosted by their court. Only one did, though. A female that looked similar to Feyre, though much duller in Night Court black. Enid recognized her as her Uncle Lucien’s mate. They had never sealed the bond, though she wasn’t privy to the reason. The Morrigan did not look at Eris, nor did she look at Enid, and she felt her fire rise up in anger. 

But she had practiced this, too. She took a breath as her father pivoted, leading her to the edges of the ballroom, and she let the fire inside her bank into smoke as she exhaled. 

“Make sure you say hello to Lord Keir. I must keep up the pretense of alliship with him, he’s an important asset to Autumn.”

Enid tilted her head in a subtle nod. It was impolite to whisper, but more importantly, Eris didn’t want anyone thinking that their whispers were important. The man to Rhysand’s left… his shadows were spies. They coiled around his broad, scarred wings, searching without eyes. They frightened her. Eris followed her line of sight. He had put distance between them, playing the part of a bored, heartless father who was cursed to have a little brat instead of a son. Despite the distance, he still whispered, “Fire is the greatest fear of those who dwell in darkness, daughter.”

It was the reassurance she needed. She brightened, her spine straightening with pride. They would not dare touch her here. 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･

There was something wrong inside the ballroom. Magic. The sharp tang of it filled Nyx Archeron’s nose, and he ducked behind the face of an elegant column. He had a gift for that sort of thing. Wrongness. He was a product of it, after all. Were it not for the Cauldron, he and his mother, his father too, they would have died. Nyx was the product of a bargain, and that made the circumstances of his life wrong. 

He felt a sharp tapping against the bone white shields of his mind. He hated when Feyre used her magic on him. Pulling magical rank on family should have been outlawed centuries ago. 

Nyx reinforced his shields, keeping her out. A few moments later, a dark, shadowy presence tried again. His father, too? How was he supposed to do anything with them breathing down his mind? 

Something was wrong. He felt it pulling in his gut. Tugging at him. He tilted his head around the column, glancing at his parents. They were still atop the dais, but the rest of their Circle had moved into the crowd. They must not have felt it.

It moved. Rather, someone moved. The source of the tugging was across the ballroom, flitting back and forth, weaving through the crowd. It felt dangerous, it felt… hot. Burning. But it wasn’t the kind of burning that ate and ate until everything was gone. It was low and slow, something that would survive on scraps of whatever it could find. Somehow, he felt that kind of fire was more dangerous. 

He joined the revelry, taking the hand of some nameless high fae. Nyx felt the presence of his parents fade from his mind, a great sigh of power. He must be in the sights of Feyre, or one of his aunts, and thus safe. 

The female in front of him smiled, as flirtatious a look as she could give to someone like him. Nyx smiled back, the dimple in his cheek flashing as he pulled her in by the waist. Whatever it was, the wrongness, someone was carrying it with them on the floor. Nyx slid his hands along the fae’s back, down to her full hips. No secret trove, no deadly artifact or enchanted vials beneath the tulle. He spun her into the arms of another before moving on. 

A lesser fae now. Gauzy wings draped down her back like sparkling cobwebs. She wore a dress that was certainly too scandalous for the Winter Solstice, but it worked in his favor this time. Nyx grazed her small thigh, his hand slipping under the skirt of her slip briefly. She cawed in delight as his fingers met her bare skin. No deadly ash weapons.  She attempted to run her nails across the sensitive membrane of his wings before he shoved her off, moving to the next. The nerve.

He turned about the room with fae after fae, carefully groping for whatever it was that felt so strange. Nothing.

This wasn’t working. It was time to do what he should have done in the first place, let the High Lord and Lady deal with it.  Nyx was weaving through the throng of fae, crawling back to his parents like a fool, when he bumped straight into Eris. The tugging feeling in his gut grew unbearably hot, and then it simmered out. Wait- that wasn’t Eris, it was a girl. Sometimes Eris looked like a girl from the back, but that was definitely not him. She was too young, too short.

Nyx pushed aside the people around him, keeping his eyes set on her as she moved. He was grateful that the crowd parted for him like water. He didn’t want to use his skills as a daemati right now. It would draw too much attention.

He found the Autumn fae, snatching her wrist up with a firm grip. “Where is it?” 

She looked up at him with momentary shock before her face turned to steel. It reminded him of his Aunt Nesta. The look was cool. She was calculating him. 

“Where is what?” She looked at him as if his title was the only reason she bothered answering. Prince of Night. It had its perks. 

He grabbed her by the waist, skimming his fingers along her ribs. Daggers could be hidden in the boning of a corset. It was a trick the females of his court often employed. He felt proud to know such a secret.

The Autumn fae grabbed his hand, yanking it away from her body. He felt a searing pain bubble beneath his skin. Dim red flame skittered across his wrist, grazing the edge of his sleeve in warning. He snatched his hand back, biting his tongue to keep from bringing attention to it. 

“Give it to me, and I won’t have you executed for treason.”

“Treason? I would have to be a member of your court for that to be my crime.” Whatever- it didn’t even matter what the technical term for it was. He’d have her head on a spike if anyone saw her embarrass him. It was a very beautiful head, though. Stunning, really. He liked her long red hair, the elegant curve of her face. Her eyes…

 He watched those beady black eyes narrow. They were as sharp as coals, but not as sharp as her tone. “I have nothing to give you, run along.”

Who did she think she was? She was younger than him by at least half a century.

“You do realize I’m Crown Prince, right?”

“Do you take me for a fool, Nyx?” The posh apathy in her voice slipped. Fiery. He liked that.

“You’re a fool to lie to me,” he said, dropping his voice the same way his father did when he was threatening someone.

“You’re right about that. And I am not a fool.”

He took a breath, focusing on that feeling deep in his gut. It felt like a natal cord, like something forged along his soul. He gripped it with a shadowy hand. He pulled. The girl flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You do have it!” A few eyes turned his way, and he lowered his voice. He shouldn’t be excited about an assassination attempt on his parents, but maybe they would finally trust him enough to send him out on real work.

He watched the girl clench her fists, grunting in anger at being caught. “I have nothing. What am I supposed to have?”

Nyx clicked his tongue. Each lie would only dig her into a deeper hole, but she didn’t seem to understand that. “If you keep denying it I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

Her brows crinkled in disgust. “Are you going to search me?”

“What? No.” He looked disgusted for a moment. “I would never do that.” He wouldn’t tell her about how he had been doing exactly that only a few moments ago. “I wouldn’t. Not when I can do this…” Nyx brushed against her mind, scaly darkness overtaking it. 

The girl had shields. Thick ones, actually. Surprising. He pushed against them harder, slithered between the thick, ashen brambles until he felt her go still. He must have been improving with his daemati skills. A sudden wave of fear hit her. It was so strong that he somehow felt it, too. Deep in his gut. 

I won’t hurt you, just confess.

A flickering ember billowed into shape, looking more and more like a figure, the girl, with each crackle of light. Nyx watched her soul take shape. This had never really happened before. Not when he practiced on Uncle Cassian, or Morrigan. He was definitely improving, then.

He could see only the vague details of her body, but he did not miss her glaring black eyes. She was remarkably stupid not to be afraid of him. That bothered him for some reason. 

What’s your name?

That’s what you’re going to ask? She looked at him as if he were the stupid one, and he bristled. His shape here was strange. Some kind of beast, black and shiny, scaly but winged. He stretched his wings. They felt far bigger than usual. If you’re going to admire yourself, can you do that outside of my mind?

He rolled his eyes. The spectral ones. He wasn’t even sure what was happening to the real ones right now. 

He turned away from her brightness, looking for her thoughts. Somehow, he couldn’t find the access point. That library full of memories was not reachable from where he was. It was a different space entirely. He could only talk.

He tried to play it cool. She didn’t need to know how royally he was fucking this up. You won’t even tell me your name? That sounds suspicious. I should just hand you over to the High Lord.

Do it.  

Dammit. She wasn’t supposed to call his bluff. Why won’t you just cooperate…

Enid He blinked. The Autumn Court specialized in strange names, then. Something in his core sparked, turning warm again. She shivered a bit, cupping her abdomen. My name is Enid Vanserra. Now will you stop doing that? It’s making me sick. 

Nyx left her mind, drawing back through flame and ember until he was looking at Enid. They were close, nearly shoved together by the press of bodies around them. The music had grown louder, the revel in full swing. Nyx grabbed her by the hips before she could get any ideas about slipping away. “Vanserra?”

“Don’t you know your noble families?”

“Of course I do,” he said flatly. “It’s not my fault you breed like rabbits. There are a million of you. Which Vanserra sired you?”

“Eris,” she said, almost smugly. She was the High Lord’s little brat then. Everyone knew how much Eris hated her. Nyx almost couldn’t blame him. She certainly enjoyed making things difficult. Now nothing made sense, though. Eris was an ally to the Night Court. Even the Court of Nightmares. She would never get away with disturbing the delicate balance of alliship. 

Nyx reached deep inside himself again. That wrongness, it was a cord of pure light. It was easy to find, still remarkably present. He pulled on it again.

Enid gasped, made a small sound that had a blush rising beneath his tanned skin.“Is this some sort of strange trick to make me talk?” she grumbled. 

“You feel that?” He pulled again and she leaned into him, bracing her hands on his shoulders in a mockery of a waltz.

“Yes.” She sent another glowering look his way. “If it’s supposed to hurt, you’re not doing it right.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed. “I’m taking you to see my pa- The High Lord and Lady.” He wound his fingers around Enid’s wrist, dragging her through the crowd and toward the dais. She didn’t fight him, and he became less and less confident in the idea that she was up to something.

As they approached, he felt her straighten, almost instantly forging herself into fae nobility. Nyx followed a moment later, lifting his wings tight and straight. 

His mother looked at him with a tinge of worry, though only amusement glimmered in his father’s eyes. “Nyx,” Rhysand said. “Lady Vanserra, to what do we owe the pleasure.”

Nyx spoke before she had the chance to, brushing back his dark hair until it was neat. “She has given me reason to be suspicious.”

Enid looked bored. Her gaze was trained on Mor, almost as if playing a game of chicken. Enid was winning. 

“Suspicious?” Feyre said warily. 

Nyx nodded. Now wasn’t the time to be uncertain. “Yes. I can feel the mark of the Cauldron on her. She has something dangerous, maybe something Made.” It sounded better than ‘I don't know exactly but there’s something wrong with her.’ It was a good guess. ‘Wrongness’ was usually the Cauldron’s doing.

Feyre looked to Aunt Nesta, who nodded. Nesta approached Enid carefully, her eyes flickering with liquid silver. Nyx felt a phantom flame breathe in his soul, an echo of the instinctual fire that rose to life in Enid. It was a strange feeling. Wrong. Rhysand watched carefully.

Nesta shook her head a moment later. “I sense nothing Made.” His mother nodded, pleased, but the look on Rhysand’s face was… delighted. Shocked, but delighted. Nyx could almost see the gears winding up in his father’s mind. 

“Mates,” Rhysand breathed.

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“What?” The High Lady of the Night Court sat up in her seat. Enid watched her nostrils flare, scenting the air. She swore, biting at a perfectly manicured nail.

Anxiety rose in her stomach, but she wasn’t sure now if it was her own, or if it belonged to the prince beside her. Nyx Archeron was her mate.

Enid felt the booming footsteps of her father echoing behind her. Eris marched his way up the dais, coming to a halt a few feet behind Enid, though he did not look at her. “Is something wrong, High Lord? Lady?”

“High Lady,” Rhysand corrected. His voice was tight, but she could see the glitter of stars in his eyes. His face smoothed into an almost cocky grin. “Welcome to the family, Eris.” 

Prick… but Enid stayed quiet. She watched her father’s already rigid frame go still, like a petrified tree in an ancient forest. “What do you mean?” Eris said. He sounded calm, but Enid knew he was anything but. 

“Your precious, darling girl is my son’s mate.” Rhysand crooned. “Will we be expecting you at family dinners from now on?” He was deliberately taunting her father, she knew. It was a cover for whatever plans had set themselves into motion behind his eyes.

“No,” the words left Enid’s mouth before she could stop them. It was impolite, but she found herself unable to care. Her father finally looked at her, one eyebrow lifting at the interruption.

She turned back to the High Lord and Lady. Feyre was smiling at her, looking at Enid like she was a little girl that had gotten lost in the woods.“Our families are allies, Enid, and we would be happy to see our courts united,” Feyre said softly, politely.

“No,” Enid repeated. The thought of being anywhere near them… she did not like it. She did not like that they played games with their allies, forcing Eris to stick his neck out at the risk of her Grandfather’s wrath many years ago. She did not like that their women were either caged or turned into weapons. She did not like that their kindness was just as lethal as their rage.

Nyx’s wings flared, the look on his face petulantly irritated. It seemed as though he wanted to speak, but wouldn’t dare interrupt the back and forth taking place in the minds of his parents. 

After a few full seconds of silence, Rhysand propped his arm against the throne, resuming his apathetic surveillance of the crowd. “Enjoy the revel, we’ll be in touch.”

Enid looked at her father. The muscles of his jaw were clenched, though he said nothing. He put a hand on Enid’s shoulder, guiding her off of the dais with a light pressure, but a tight grip.

From behind her, she heard the High Lady mutter, “Stay.” The hesitant rustle of wings told Enid that Nyx had listened. 

Eris led her straight out of the mountain. She felt herself finally able to breathe as they veered onto the rocky path. She wasn’t sure if the pause in her breath was because of her nervousness, or simply the dense air that swelled in the cavernous ballroom. Her father gripped her arm, winnowing them back to the Autumn Court as soon as they were past the mountain’s wards.

“Explain,” was all he said as they tunneled into the den. Fires crackled to life in the hearths of the Vanserra manor. It kept out the cold, but that was only an indirect effect. The hearths were black with soot and ash from every time Eris had needed an outlet for the magic building inside him.

Enid sat down in one of the plush armchairs, sinking into the archaic upholstery. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know.”

Enid just looked at him. She didn’t really know what to say.  

“I suppose this could work for us…” Eris said as he began to pace. He had trained himself on stillness in front of rivals, but in the safety of their home he couldn’t keep himself from muttering. “Hmm, and then they wouldn’t involve themselves… might need to use my bloodhounds… trust her with information.”

She was only able to catch snippets of his whispers, but she quickly grew queasy with the thought of being sent to the Night Court. “Will I have to live there?”

Her father paused, turning to look at her. “Once you are mated you’ll never want to be apart.” He said it so openly, so matter-of-fact. It was as if the Cauldron had already tipped, its rough waters etching her future into stone. 

“I thought we were already mates.” Maybe they were wrong, then? She wasn't at all looking forward to meeting Nyx again.

“Nyx is your mate, yes, but you still have to accept the mating bond.”

“I have to accept it?”

“You don’t want to accept it?” Her father looked at her curiously. 

In all of Enid’s lessons, she hadn’t really been schooled much on mating bonds. She was taught the basics of court partnerships and romantic etiquette, but Eris had made sure to instill a sense of independence in her. He did not want her to be reliant on a male when so many of them were fools. He knew that from personal experience, of course. 

“I don’t know,” Enid said, her voice coming out as a warbled murmur. She had never given thought to finding her mate. She knew one existed for her, as there was for all fae, but finding one’s mate in the vastness of Prythian- let alone all the other fae realms- seemed impossible. 

Eris continued. “Different courts have different traditions regarding the acceptance of the mating bond. The Autumn Court’s tradition is… very dramatic.” He winced a little at the thought. “It’s called the Burning. The female is tied to an oak of the same age as her. She uses her magic to light the tree on fire, and the male must brave her flames to untie her. True mates cannot hurt each other, so if the male comes out unharmed and with his bride in hand, the bond has been accepted.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Enid asked as neutrally as possible, but she swore amusement flashed in her father’s eyes. 

“If the female freely rejects the bond, the protection from her magic fades, and the male will likely run screaming.” His eyes softened, the corner of his lips quirked in a small smile of understanding. “I suppose it would be unwise to have Nyx attempt the Burning?”

Enid trained her eyes on her shoes. She didn’t want to be the cause of ruined relations between courts. The Night Court was often unpredictable, and her rejection could be seen as an insult. After all, she had allowed Nyx no grace period, nor the benefit of slow courtship. She had simply said no, and left.

Eris sat beside her, the fires in the blackened hearths having cooled. “I would never be upset with you for denying a male. The Night Court is known for treating mating bonds as… Cauldron-given rights,” his lip curled, “not that the Autumn Court was any better under my father. Beron’s roots run deep, and our traditions hold fast.” He turned to face Enid. “You are free to make your own decisions. However, I would ask you to consider. You are your own person, but you are also an extension of my court. Unfortunately, I cannot only back your decisions as your father, I must also support them as High Lord, which is far more difficult.” He stood, bending down to press a kiss to her hair. “Take your time, Enid. And rest. The answer will come to you with some reflection. Do not let the flame of your whims guide you, as the Vanserra’s too often do.” He squeezed her shoulder, then left the den. 

The hearths turned to ash.

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Please, Enid

No

Can I at least come to visit? You won’t even give me a chance…

Nyx watched her fiery form, the image of her along the bond, flicker and sputter out. A pang echoed across the tether of light, twisting in his gut. Enid would not be talking any more today. 

Cassian snapped his fingers in front of Nyx’s face in annoyance, startling him out of that dream-like state. “It’s your turn. Nesta is creaming us, dude.” 

His aunt smirked as her ball bounced against the long table, arcing gracefully before plinking into the center goblet. Liquor swished as the ball sank. Azriel gave Nesta a fist bump. 

Cassian groaned. “Azriel is helping you cheat! I see his shadows moving.” Azriel’s shadows wriggled, as if insulted. 

“We don’t need to cheat,” Nesta said smugly as Cassian lifted the goblet, drinking down sharp liquid. “You would think the Night Court’s General would have better aim.”

Cassian grimaced at his mate. “I should’ve thought twice before inviting you to play a drinking game.” He turned to look at Nyx. “What’s wrong with you today, usually we’re at least tied by now.”

Nyx looked down at the table. His Aunt Nesta and Uncle Azriel had only two goblets left to win. He and his Uncle Cassian still had five. Nyx tucked in his wings defensively, taking the ball from Cassian’s hand. “My turn.”

Cassian shrugged, stepping back to watch as Nyx carefully threw the ball into the polished surface of dark oak. His angle was off, and it merely skittered and rolled over the edge. Cassian groaned. “What was that?”

It was hard to focus. When Nyx had first met Enid on Winter Solstice, he had found it impossible to ignore that strange magic between them. Now, after almost two weeks of her refusal to talk, the cord that linked them felt… tight. His Aunt Elain had even caught Nyx pacing the halls of the River House, nearly ready to fly out to the Autumn Court.

Nesta and Azriel put Cassian out of his misery, each of their balls plunking into the final two goblets as they ended the game. “Drink up,” Azriel said, his shadows still tucked away, holding a grudge. 

Nyx lifted one of the goblets, taking the shot as Cassian finished his own. It slid down with a burn. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the burn of Enid’s presence. Cauldron boil him, he was a mess. 

“I’m never playing with you again,” Cassian muttered to Nyx, but Nyx supposed the sentiment was also meant for his Aunt Nesta.

A tinkling sound echoed as the High Lady walked into the room, her silver bangles announcing her presence. “I thought I told you to stay out of the business wing with those games. And stop corrupting my son,” she said snappishly to the Illyrians, but mirth swirled in her eyes as she smiled. This had been his mother’s only dream. A family that stuck together, that truly lived. 

“The tables in the personal wing aren’t as big,” Cassian said with a grin. Azriel grabbed one of Feyre’s fancy hand towels from Cesere, wiping down spatters of alcohol from the glossy table. “And Azriel will gladly clean it all up,” Cassian added cheerfully. 

Feyre only rolled her eyes, turning to Nyx. “Any luck?”

A blush crept across Nyx’s cheeks, his tan skin flushed with rose. His mother had a habit of being nosy. “No,” he said sheepishly. “Not yet.”

Her eyes narrowed as she pulled Nyx into a hug, pushing his face into the shoulder of her soft, cable-knit sweater. “I’ll have Rhys visit the Autumn Court.”

“Not yet,” Nyx insisted. He kept himself from tugging on the bond, from calling to her. It was embarrassing.

“Eris needs to keep that girl in line.” Feyre turned to Nesta, “Or you could go, Nesta.” His mother smirked. “Eris tried to make her his bride once, you know. That would’ve worked out poorly for you, Nyx.”

Nyx stepped back from his mother’s hug with a grimace, but he smiled a little when he saw his Aunt bristle. “If you send me,” Nesta said, “the Autumn Court might declare war.”

Yes, Nyx thought, maybe sending a Valkyrie to his mate’s front door was a bad idea.

Nyx watched Azriel straighten as Elain walked through the door, a smile brushing his lips. Elain glided to his side, and he took one of her hands in his own, the scarred flesh of his fingers gently caressing her knuckles. “Dinner is almost ready,” Elain said. She noticed the charged energy of the room, cocking her head to the side. “Is something the matter?”

Feyre pursed her lips. “The Vanserras. Always causing trouble.” 

Elain nodded, but it was a contemplative gesture, not one of agreement. Nyx had met his Aunt Elain’s mate before. Lucien Vanserra was one of the High Lord’s surviving brothers, and he occasionally came to visit Elain and Feyre. Though Elain had never fallen in love with Lucien, they were friendly with each other, and talked often. 

Nyx waited for Aunt Elain to speak, but she didn’t, only adding after a few minutes that they should all reconvene in the kitchen. 

Rhysand was already seated, nodding his thanks to the disappearing wraiths that had helped Elain cook. “I’ll go tonight, Nyx,” his father said by way of greeting. It seemed Feyre had already filled Rhys in, likely through their mating bond.

This time, Nyx did not object. He gripped his own bond, deep inside himself, wanting to see if Enid would answer. One more chance, he thought. Once his father went, hell would likely be raised by the High Lords. The line inside him was cold, but she couldn’t avoid him forever. Maybe it really was time for the court to intervene.

Rhysand’s brows furrowed as he saw pain flicker in Nyx’s blue eyes. They were soft and gentle, exactly like his mother’s.  “I’m sure this is all due to some misunderstanding. Who knows what kind of vitriol Eris has spewed to her.”

Nyx nodded, settling into one of the plush seats at the dining table. He folded his wings around the back, letting the cartilage rest against the carved wood. “Wings up,” his father chided. “It looks lazy.”

Cassian and Azriel snickered. “You sound just like your mom, Rhys,” Cassian said. Nyx watched his father smirk, chewing thoughtfully on the roast duck carefully plated before him. 

“My mother always knew everything,” Rhysand said proudly. Nyx barely listened, staring at his plate, digging the tongs of his fork into duck meat. It was perfectly cooked, well seasoned, but he couldn’t eat it. His stomach turned.

Azriel nodded to Rhys and Feyre, “As mothers always do.” 

Feyre played with her wedding band, smiling quietly to herself.  She seemed determined to keep their little family together. Perhaps a family was all Enid needed. He hoped that was the case.

Part 2

[acourtofthought]

Elain shrinks into herself when Lucien is around?

This girl gets flashes of the future. You know there's been images of:

Their bodies slick with sweat

His teeth on her inner thighs

His voice moaning her name

His hands tangled in her hair

His mouth on her.... well, everywhere

Her knees on the forest floor looking up at him.

Her crying out his name, again and again

Looking at Lucien would bring those images racing back and we all know that a shift in her scent could be detected, the reddening of her face would easily be spotted.

Elain was raised to behave like a lady.

Lucien brings about very unladylike thoughts.

Hot Mate + Seer Powers = Elain having no need to read a smutty novel for inspiration because she's now already seen things she never realized were a thing and you know she'd be struggling with how much they intrigued her since as Nesta said, humans were taught primness.

It's really that simple. Sarah didn't call Lucien her love then remind us over and over of how hot he is, how Cassian, Amren and the king noted his good looks, how Feyre thought of his warm bare chest, broad hard shoulders and gleaming hair (while already mated to Rhys no less), for one of the daemati twins to tell us all about the bedroom habits of the Autumn Court males only for his own mate not to notice the exact same things.

[lady-embers]

After watching this video, no one can deny the fact Azriel's shadows dancing with some silent music from Gwyn's breathe and them singing back in answer to some faint, beautiful music as he is leaving her presence isn't HUGE foreshadowing for them to be endgame!!!

Also, with this video, the theory Gwyn was luring Azriel by her singing is debunked . Sarah wouldn't use music as a plot device like that. Especially with a SA victim doing said luring. But she will use music as a connection between two people who are meant to be together.

Music =/= bad, it = GOOD! Heck, the same night the Azriel bonus scene takes place, we have Nessian mating bond snapping into place and it being described as the music between their souls.

Azriel Shadowsinger and Gwyneth Berdara WILL be revealed as mates. Mark my words.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 5

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: You wake after succumbing to the mating bond.

Word count: 5.1k

<<&lt; Part 4

Strands of hair tickled your cheeks, a warm, gentle breeze kissing your face as you groggily blinked awake. 

 A spring breeze. 

You jolted upright, urgently scanning around you. It was a lavash guest room, soft white sheets settled over your body, lush pillows piled to have cradled your head. You had no idea who's clothes you wore, but you knew you were at the Spring Manor. 

As if on queue, a house maid opened the doors to your room, behind her a healer. It was the same perky house maid that had greeted you when you first visited Tamlin. 

“Oh good, you’re awake, she pepped. The healer wordlessly approached you, pressing her thumb to your wrist. She gave the maid a quick nod before leaving the room, without having spoken a word. 

“She’s mute,” the maid explained. 

Oh. You stared back at her. So were you, it seemed.

“The High Lord will be eager to hear you are awake. Will you take his visit?”

You nodded silently, unable to form the thousands of questions as your brain came to wake. 

Tamlin was in your room in no less than a few minutes. 

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about that. Looking within yourself, you felt it there, a swollen heart, alive and beating and thriving, but also aching from a deep wound. You were nautious and weak and so gods damned angry. How could the Mother be so cruel?

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just a day.”

You nodded, running your hand through your hair. “And we’re in Spring?”

Tamlin nodded. “Feyre and Rhys winnowed us here.”

You were too tired to gawk, so you blinked instead. “Pardon me?”

“And your… Azriel and Cassian are still here, waiting for you to wake.”

You must still be dreaming. “You opened your home to them?” you croaked.

Tamlin shrugged. “We wanted to bring you to your Uncle’s, but you could see to a healer faster here. Besides, there was no fitting five fae in that cabin, especially two Illyrians.”

“They could have slept outside,” you ground out, and Tamlin chuckled. 

“You do… remember what unfolded at the wedding, don’t you? That Azriel and Cassian are your mates?”

“Do not call them that.” Taming the bite in your tone was beyond you, even for your friend. You had to clench your eyes shut to stop the reel in your vision, your whole body clenching as you remembered that awful, fated moment.

Tamlin didn't falter. Instead he dropped his eyes before reaching for your hand and squeezing it sympathetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“Yes. No. I don't know,” you said plainly, pinching at your nose. It did hurt, this unwanted binding to the two beings you resented most in this world. It hurt to resist them, to resist it. As if there was a home, beckoning you inside to warmth and food and comfort, and instead you stood outside in the hail and cold, despising it for ever being built.

Tamlin’s eyes were soft as he watched you shift uncomfortably. You hated that look too, as if he was sad for you, as if this bond was your fate and you had no say in the matter. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he blinked. 

“As if I’m some mindless female destined to forget and forgive and go running back with a kiss to each of their cheeks.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Because I’m not, and I won’t. I still have my head, and my senses, and some gods-damned self respect.” 

Tamlin sighed then. “No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to Y/N. I won't allow it.”

You cast your eyes to the roof then, blinking away the sting of tears. “And what of us, Tamlin? Suppose I was free to explore a future with you?”

Tamlin moved to hold your one hands in his, running a thumb in your palm. “You are free, sweetheart.”

“And you would court me, knowing I’m cauldron-bound to not just one, but two others?”

His thumb stopped rubbing then, and his lips pressed to a thin line. 

You stared hard at Tamlin, eyes piercing. Don’t lie - that look said - we do not lie to each other. 

And as Tamlin raised green eyes to yours, in their softness you had your answer. 

“Your silence is answer enough,” you bit, letting out a sharp breath as tears slid down your cheeks, snatching your hand from his. 

It had started – your choices, your freedom – fading away already. Curse the Mother.

“Come now Y/N, I will always love you, and we will always have each other, however our relationship might change.”

“Lies, Tamlin. Fucking lies,” your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were flushed with anger then, kicking off the sheets that were now too hot, your skin beginning to tingle. Gods, not now you begged, holding your breath to stifle the sting at your fingertips.

“I do not lie to you, Y/N.” Tamlin said sternly. 

You swung your legs from your bed, standing in a hurry as blood rushed to your head. “You’re just another disappointment,” you said coldly, pacing as you shook your hands to rid of your power. 

Pain flashed in his eyes, and he recoiled slightly before straightening, his eyes hardening. “You’re being unfair.” 

“You males are all the same! You treat females as if they are objects, owned by one male and therefore not to be touched by another. An unspoken exchange, as if I were cattle and not an actual fucking being.” 

Tamlin pinched his nose then, his jaw tightening. “That is not what is happening here. You cannot punish me for not wanting to entangle myself in your mateship, not when I’m doing it out of respect for you.”

You were being unfair, and quite unforgiving, but your words were as unstoppable as your power in this moment, zapping and dancing at your skin. 

“Is that what you define as respect, High Lord? Because despite a year of friendship, all it took was one gods-foresaken moment for you to side with what they want, and start dismissing me. You believe in the bond, and you respect Azriel and Cassian enough to house them, and agree that you won't so much as look at me again. You have chosen them over me, plain and simple.”

Tamlin’s face was grave, and you knew you were twisting an old wound of his. And perhaps you were being rash, but you didn't care. You would shut him out, or anyone who thought they knew what was best for you. 

“I thought I was helping you by allowing them here,” he said defensively. “I thought perhaps you’d feel safe here, but would still want them close, to be able to talk to them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re gods-damned right I want to talk to them! I’ll tell them exactly what I think of this couldren-made-shackle, of what I think of the Mother if they think for one second they can–” You swayed on the spot as you spat a string of curses, vision blurring slightly.

Despite the cruel words you had cast his way, Tamlin approached, steadying you by your shoulder’s, biting down on the pain that stung him at his touch. 

“I understand your anger, Y/N, I do. But you’re still unwell, you should rest now and–”

Tamlin should have know better than to test your stubbornness. 

So you marched for the door, flinging it open as you stormed through the manor, using that tether you so loathed to cast out your mates. Tamlin was on your tail, trying to reason to take a moment or calm yourself before doing anything rash. But you didn't turn once as you found the room that beheld your mates, ripping the doors open without so much as a knock. 

They knew you were coming of course. Azriel stood near the bed, and Cassian had just risen from the armchair he sat on in the opposite corner – their faces grave, worried, with a sickening kind of longing. 

It was as if the flesh between your bones went soft, your body begging to give out or give in and relish in the proximity of being close to your mates. But you forced yourself to stay stiff, holding a glare that could cut glass.

“Wipe those looks off your faces,” you bit, stalking into the room.

Azriel cast his eyes to Tamlin who held a look that said I tried to stop her. He knew better than to linger, pulling the doors closed behind you.

“How are you fee–?” Cassian tried, but you raised a hand to silence him. 

They waited in silence, and you darted your eyes between them. 

“You think this means I forgive you?”

They knew better than to answer that. 

“You think this means you can have me, because the Mother wishes to see us mated?” you continued, your voice laced with ice. “Well it doesn’t. I will not head to fate and forsake myself, not even for the cauldron.”

Azriel sighed then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Of course you won’t,” he said plainly. 

You scowled. “Is that sarcasm?” you bit, even though you felt his sincerity creeping through the tether. 

“No. It’s knowing.”

You blinked.

“We know you doll,” Cassian said as he too sat back in the chair, running a strong hand through his hair – a tell sign of stress. “Not because of the bond. But because we’ve loved you for almost a decade now. We know there is not a thing that can set you apart from your principles.”

“And we would never ask that of you,” Azriel added.

You shuffled, your arms crossing defensively. “You won't try to convince me to go back with you?” you asked stiffly.

Cassian shook his head. “No, it was wrong for us to ask that of you in the first place.”

Azriel stood then, moving closer to a settee in the centre of the room. “We do ask that you might let us explain. We have so much we've wanted to tell you, even before you left Velaris. And there is a lot of truth we’ve withheld, things you deserve to know.” He slid his hands behind his back, waiting at the seats – a silent offering to join them, to hear them out. 

It was a temptation you couldn't deny yourself. You moved swiftly, sitting on one side, a low reading table separating you as Cassian took a place next to Azriel. 

“We had suspicions of the bond from when we first began to court you.” Azriel began. “It was so rare for us to long for the same female, but the true hint was in the lack of jealousy we felt between each other.”

Cassian nodded. “We agreed to court you as, well, as partners. It wasn't anything we had explored in our 500 years, but with you, it felt so natural.”

“And your ease too, that was a big sign,” Azriel added. “We half expected you to flee, or never speak to us again.”

“But you were so comfortable, you made it feel… right.”

You were frowning slightly. You didn't remember feeling natural or at ease at all, in fact you were sick to your stomach with nerves when you first began dating. But perhaps they had a point, exploring your first relationship with two males hadn’t added any more challenge than regular dating for you. You had put that down to your friendship of many years. 

“Over the period we dated, and as we fell in love with you, we learned to love each other too. We were brothers, but you showed us how to be more than that, igniting something not even they Cauldron dared show us.”

“We wanted to tell you of our suspicions, but it didn’t feel like the right time. You were so focused on your work, so determined to do well. And I suppose we thought it was a hopeless dream – it didn't feel right to distract you with that.” Cassian explained, leaning into his elbows that rested on his knees.

You weighed up their words, eyes darting between the males. It had never occurred to you that a mating bond was at play. You would have never believed yourself to be cauldron-blessed if they had suggested it – or cauldron-cursed rather.

Azriel cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. “It wasn't until the moment that I killed Alvar, that I felt the bond snap,” he breathed out, his voice husky and his hazel eyes cast downward, grimacing as he recalled the difficult memory. “I watched the life leave his body, and then I heard a snap, a force so strong it made me falter. I was reborn in that moment, my new purpose to solely fill your needs, to care for you, protect you. I could feel your desires overriding mine, and in that your determination and hunger to avenge your sister. And I knew then, that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

There was a downward tug of your lips, your face muscles jerking involuntarily as you tried not to cry, imagining that moment that changed everything for the worse. 

“I have dreams of Alvar, still alive and at the mercy of Trutheller. I dream that I sheath my sword and step away, returning to a world where you are waiting for me at our home. And your embrace is warm and true, because you love us, and we never did a thing to ruin it.” Azriel’s voice broke as he flashed those hazel eyes, lined with tears. 

Two silent tears slid down your cheeks, your chest tight with the shallows breaths you kept to keep yourself from crumbling. You didn't respond – what could you say? Instead, you cleared your throat, grasping the arms of your chair even tighter. “And what of you?” you asked Cassian. 

“It snapped for me in that same moment. But I was journeying home from the northern training camps in Illyria.” 

You blinked in shock. The bond had snapped for the both of them, with that greater distance between them while Azriel was across the sea?

“As I was flying back to Velaris, and I heard the snap in my ears before I felt it course through my veins and wounding my heart. That realisation, that same pain that Azriel described, the devastation at what we had done… it sent me crashing into the thick of forest.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined the great War General, bought to his knees by such a thing. 

“It seems none of us have been welcomed to this mateship gently,” you said tightly. Why had the Mother forsaken so much pain?

“I could hear Az then, speak to him through the bond in the same way Rhys and Feyre speak in  our minds. I could feel his panic too, his fear of having to tell you, to break you in such a way. I calmed him down as best I could, and reassured him that we would do it together, as soon as he returned.”

Your eyes turned cold again. “But that isn’t what happened.”

“It was a cowards choice to ask Rhys to be the one tell you, we know,” Azriel said with dismay. “But the concept of hurting you, of wounding our mate so deeply? It was unfathomable.”

“Its not an excuse,” Cassian added. “But we hope you can understand, there is an instinct there that twists our concept of what is wrong and right. Rhys understood that, it was the same instinct that kept him from telling Feyre about the risk of birthing Nyx. I think that’s why he volunteered to tell you, to protect us from something that would wound us so deeply.”

“We are learning, Y/N, and we are so sorry that we hurt you,” Azriel said, hazel eyes pinning you with their intensity. “But we are trying, and we will do better by you.”

You looked between the two of them, pulling your hands to your lap as your fingers trembled. It was just all so much. 

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to say those words – I forgive you. 

You could see it, relief flooding the bond and breaking those solemn gazes, their embrace and warmth and scent surrounding you, fulfilling your primal desire. Their lips on yours, their hands on your body, yours on theirs, puling each other in and never letting go. There was a thrumming in your heart, a pulsing through your veins. It felt so right. 

But then you thought of the life you had made, the path you were forced to walk by yourself after what they had done. They had broken you completely, and you had put yourself back together, now stronger than ever. Your mission work, your life in Spring, the pain you endured and the scars that remained from doing it alone – it was a part of you now, and you could never let that go. 

You were at a cross roads – one path leading to the overwhelming promise of unconditional love that tempted your heart, the other promising freedom and choice and sense, tempting your head.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked, his voice soft from where he still sat, anxiously fidgeting with his hands. 

You took a deep breath. “That I am overwhelmed.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel watched you before speaking softly. “That is understandable.”

You didn't have an answer for them, not even for yourself. 

“I don't know what to do,” you whispered. 

Cassian continued to nod, casting his eyes down sadly. “Whatever you decide, Y/N, we will do right by you.”

“Of course we dream of you accepting the bond, of becoming our mate, we won't deny that. But we want you to want it,” Azriel added. 

You gulped, anticipating the pain that would come from your next words. “And what if I decide to break the bond?”

Cassian’s head dropped as he let out a wrangled sob. Azriel’s shadows recoiled so fast they disappeared entirely. The latter gripped the chair, his knuckles white as he slipped into that place he so often had to as the Spy Master – a place where nothing could hurt him. “The choice is yours.”

“Please,” Cassian breathed out, tears streaming down his face. It was a plea, even the thought of the bond breaking unbearable to him. 

It unbearable for you too, and fresh tears slid down your face as your arms coiled tighter around the ache in your stomach. It would sicken you, perhaps almost kill the three of you. But it was what they deserved. 

You were exhausted, and keeping that wall up through the bond, stopping their emotions from tampering with your own – that alone had you begging for your bed. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said with a broken voice, guilt slipping through at the sight of the General sobbing before you.

Azriel put an arm around his brother, comforting him as best he could. “We know that, sweetheart. Of course we know that.”

You cast your eyes sideways as you blinked through more tears. “But I don't have an answer for you.”

Cassian nodded, running his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself. “Take your time,” he said after a few moments, his voice shaky and breaths forced. “We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“And you don't need any more bargains from Rhys or Feyre,” Azriel added. “We will respect your privacy Y/N, any and all distance you might need. Let us prove that to you.”

You nodded then, forcing yourself to your knees despite the scream of protests in all of your muscles and joints. Gods, is this how the rest of your life would be, forever fighting a higher cause? Perhaps you’d go mad before you could ever hope to forgive them.

“I will…,” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Good bye, Cassian and Azriel,” you forced out, your voice thick from the cry that begged at your throat. 

Cassian’s lip wobbled, and Azriel’s brow broke upwards as he spoke. “Take good care of yourself, Y/N.” 

Cassian’s head felt to his hands, and you forced yourself to close the doors behind you, quieting the sound of his cries. 

————

You spent three weeks at your Uncle’s cabin – mostly in bed and unspeaking, even to Finbark. He dotted over you, trying to pry you from your room to spend some time outside or eat a full meal. But that familiar pain had returned, that same weight that kept you bed bound for days in your old apartment. It was grief, in all shapes and kinds.

You hadn't broken the bond, but it was rejected good and proper for now. And it hurt so gods damned much. Your waking moments were consumed with the tug and pull of what was right, a constant reeling battle that exhausted you to every extent. 

The mission aid work carried on without you – you had a competent team of friends that you trusted to continue to provide care across Spring Court. You were grateful for their passion and dedication – while your desire to help others was unreachable in those moments, and you felt completely numb to what you once had thought was your life’s calling. You despised the bond for changing you so.

You wondered of the wild Geranium, if it had been harvested yet and if Tamlin or your team had made any progress on bottling its healing pigment. 

And there was pain and guilt when you thought of Tamlin too. You had hurt him – you were malicious in your anger and said so many things you hadn't meant. You weren't angry at him, not really. Your anger lied with the Mother and your mates, and you could not fault him for not wanting to complicate relations and involve himself where he knew he shouldn’t. He was true to his word – he was open and honest with you – and you had punished him for it. 

Tamlin hadn’t sent word, and you knew he was respecting the distance you sought, perhaps even licking his own wounds. So you would start there, apologise to him, and help just one person hurt less from the recoil of your poisonous mating bond. 

You sent word to his Manor, asking him to meet you in three days time. 

————

Tamlin was at the stables, brushing down his steed when you trotted up on Podie. 

He wore his riding pants again, boots to his knees, a shirt tucked in at his tight abdomen, strong forearms moving the brush gently across the horses back. You cursed the Mother that the sight of him didn't have the same effect on you as it had a few months prior – the bond chipping away at what you had once known to desire. 

Your heart did clench at the sight of him in a sorry way, his blond hair pulled back as he worked humbly. You had missed your friend dearly, and even the Mother could not stop you from feeling that.

Tamlin turned, his face neutral as he watched you approach, neither of you speaking. Green eyes followed your dismount, and you lingered for a moment before you rushed at him, wrapping your arms at his waist and burying your face into his chest. The scent of mountain dew and fresh cut grass filled your nose – gods you had missed that.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked before sobs overtook, muffled by his clothing. 

Tamlins arms were still in the air, shocked by your approach. But he loosed a breath, bringing them to hug you, rubbing soft circles on your back. 

Relief found you then, and you melted further into his touch. A sign of truce. “I’m so so sorry Tamlin.”

“Shhh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s alright.”

You shook your head, pulling away and looking up at him. “You were only trying to help, and I was so cruel. The things I said, I–”

Tamlin shook his head gently, hushing you. “I don't understand the instincts of a mating bond, but I do know what it is to say things out of anger.”

“I didn't mean them,” you swallowed with guilt.

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully then, a smirk now on his lips. “I already had.” 

You tried to smile back, but it came out all wobbly, so Tamlin pulled you in again, swaying in a hug as he kissed the top of your head. 

After some lunch and a stroll through the gardens, he watched your carefully as you fingered the roses. 

“Do you know what you’ll do of the bond?”

You stiffened, your eyes not leaving the row of flowers before you. “No, I really don’t,” you said sadly. It was true, you hadn't a clue what to do next. 

Tamlin nodded.

After a deep sigh, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “But I do know what I want for my life. I want to continue my mission work, expand my horizons and work across Prythian. I suppose I need to approach the other High Lords, and harvest the Geranium if you’re still willing?”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes warm as he seemed to find relief. “It’s all yours.”

You nodded, smiling back. There was relief for you too – you recognised your old self in those words. Your passion to help others was still alive and strong – and that meant the cauldron hadn’t changed you beyond recognition, and if you fought hard enough, it couldn't if it tried.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Tam,” you confessed, your chest swelling with sincerity.

Tamlin raised his brows in question. 

You gave a half smile. “You make me feel… like myself. No matter the circumstance.”

Tamlin’s face softened in a way that made you wonder how long it was since he was shown a genuine kind of love – especially after what happened with Hybern.

“You are wonderfully you, Y/N, with or without my help.”

“Always the humble High Lord,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “But I would not have made it this far without you. You’re my dearest friend.”

Tamlin reached and squeezed your hand. “You’re dear to me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed back, and you swore to yourself that the bond would not interfere in this friendship ever again. 

————

6 months later

The High Lords meeting was held in Dawn, in an impressive wide cast room, marble sprawled from floor to ceiling, glassless windows arched at every wall. All seven High lords and one High Lady seated at a wide-spanning table, a cartographic map of Prythian etched within the wood. 

Fingers tingling as you shook them out, and skirts kicking at your feet, you paced anxiously on the other side of the double doors to the meeting hall.

Today was the day you would propose your mission to expand refuge aid across the whole of Prythian, asking the High Lords to consider opening their borders and contributing resources and volunteers of their own. 

Your team had worked tirelessly to get to this point – the wild Geranium was now harvested and a new batch was already seeding, and you had worked for months on your proposal, researching natural resources, writing guidance sheets on how to train volunteers, identifying what each court had to contribute and when. 

The challenge that lay ahead of you now was to appeal to spectrum of powerful leaders waiting on the other side of those doors. You knew of their egos, of the rivalry and sensitivities between courts – this was no easy task.  

“Tamlin must certainly be a terrible lover if this is how wound up he leaves you.”

You threw a scowl over your shoulder, knowing that voice and whitewood scent. 

“And what of you, Eris? Waiting for daddy to finish his meeting like the good dog you are?”

Eris gave a half grin, one that didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over, leaning against the wall as he watched you try to calm yourself, delighting in your nerves. “Speaking of dogs, I heard your mates are cooped up at Night Court, the both of them suffering from wounded hearts.”

Your bared your teeth before you could think twice. Eris knowing that both Cassian and Azriel were your mates was dangerous, but the primal snarl had escaped you for that insult alone.

Eris’s eyes danced with satisfaction. “Oh, don't go feral on me now, Y/N. From what I hear, you haven't so much a secured the bond with a fuck.”

“I will–“ your hands curled into fists as you stalked up to the male, overcome with a shaking rage. 

But Eris stayed leaning, cleaning his nails with arrogant nonchalance as he cut you off. “I suppose they’ll have to satisfy each other instead, how sad.”

Your hand was raised, ready to strike, and fire glowed in Eris’s eyes. 

“Try that, girl, and your pathetic mission turns to dust. You can forget any allegiance from Autumn, and it’s likely others will back out too.”

You faltered, your arm swaying slightly. He was right – the prick. A sounding slap was not the way to heed your proposal.

He grinned with smug satisfaction as you lowered your arm and turned away. “Such a violent response from someone who preaches to only want to help others. Perhaps you’re not the peaceful messiah you claim to be, Y/N.”

“I’ve never had a problem defending what is mine,” you threw over your shoulder. “And my aid is offered to those in need, not to arrogant princelings, or lapdogs and the likes.”

A snarl tickled at Eris’s lips, and you were glad to have landed at least one blow, be it verbal. 

“You consider those overgrown bats yours?” he asked with distaste. “So it’s true then, about the bond?”

Blinking, you played back the words that had found you so naturally. Was that how you felt? 

Chewing on your lip, you decided to ignore Eris’s question. You would think of that later – you had a meeting to focus on, and you’d be damned if either the mating bond or Eris distracted you from it. 

You didn’t have time to throw a final insult his way before Thesan pulled the double doors open, eight pairs of eyes now set on you, and Eris no where in sight. 

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You gulped before straightening yourself, stepping into the room and facing the most important moment of your entire existence, whether you were ready or not.

--------

Part 6>>>

AN: SURPRISE guest appearance by Eris ;) ;) ;) Hello hello lovelies, thank you so much for your patience on this part, I know it took a while ❤️  I am so so excited to finally explore a bit of Cazriel's perspective, and get their side to the story. I hope I've done all the characters justice so far! And there's still so much to explore – I am very keen to share the next part and see how this High Lords meeting goes down (let's face it, there will be TEA). As always, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on the fic, so pretty please drop me a comment or ask anytime! Hope you're all well and are taking care of yourselves too. MWAH!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️ 

[kksbookstuff]

When they entered the dining room, Mor was just finishing a story about Rita's, and Feyre was handing Nyx to Rhys, while Nesta ate her pasta quietly, Cassian gazing dreamily at her until Azriel and Kaylin walked in.

Cassian sniffed, "Gods, you guys smell like... each other..."

Azriel's hand tightened in Kaylin's, but she rolled her eyes, knowing that their intimate *activities* would, in fact, lead to them smelling like each other.

"It's actually quite nice," Cassian continued, sniffing dramatically like a connoisseur rating the aroma of a fancy meal, "quite complimentary!"

Azriel suppressed a smirk at Cassian's comment, his grip on Kaylin's hand growing tighter with a possessive instinct. He knew damn well what he and Kaylin had been doing beforehand, and it was clear Cassian could smell it too.

Rhysand chuckled, his gaze shifting to the couple. "Don't be so crude, Cassian," he admonished with a smirk. "We have ladies present, for gods' sake."

Azriel smirked and nodded at Rhys, "thank you." Azriel then turned back to Cassian, *"seven* times," he grinned proudly, letting that sink in to Cassian.

Kaylin's eyes flew wide with an embarrassed gasp and she smacked him in the chest, "Azriel!" She scolded, but couldn't hide the affection in her voice.

"And that was just this morning," Az continued arrogantly, plopping down into a chair, confidently tugging Kaylin right into his lap.

Cassian's eyes widened dramatically, a mix of shock and disbelief playing across his face. "Seven... *in one morning..?"* he sputtered, his gaze flickering between Azriel and Kaylin.

Rhysand chuckled again, his expression turning amused. "Impressive," he said, his voice holding a hint of pride in his brother.

Kaylin's face flushed bright red at Azriel's blatant admission of how many times he had pushed her over the edge, just this morning and she slapped his chest once more, trying to hide her flustered expression. "Stoooppp," she muttered, even as she settled comfortably on his lap.

*"Damn,"* Cassian said, rubbing his beard, "what's the most I've gotten out of you in one sitting, Nes?" He asked unabashedly.

Nesta nearly choked on her food at Cassian's question, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

Rhysand and Feyre just shook their heads in amusement, used to Cassian's lack of tact. "Please, Cassian," Rhysand snorted, his tone both exasperated and amused.

Cassian, as usual, ignored them, his gaze still focused on Nesta as he patiently waited for her answer."Four," Nesta finally answered, her voice barely above a mutter. "Four in a day."

Cassian's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he let out a low whistle. "Four in one day," he mused, "damn, I really need to up my game."

Feyre chuckled softly, her gaze shifting between Cassian and Nesta. "Don't worry, Cassian," she teased, "Quality over quantity, you know?"

Kaylin completely buried her face in Azriel's neck, hiding the blush and shy giggles, though she did quickly murmur, "quantity *and* quality..." she affirmed.

The room filled with a mix of amused chuckles and stifled laughs at Kaylin's comment and Azriel's possessive smirk. Cassian's face turned a bright shade of pink, his ego slightly wounded by the playful jibes.

Rhysand chuckled and shook his head, his gaze shifting to Azriel and Kaylin. "Careful, lovebirds," he admonished lightly. "We don't need to know all the details of your... *activities."*

[nestastits]

Chapter 58 of acosf is literally one of the most beautiful sex/love scenes ever written and I stand by that

[soulessjourney]

Hello love I have a request that I would love you to write!

Cassian or Azriel I am not picky and Y/N

Y/n gets into an argument with Cassian and or Azriel about how they are not attentive, and they’re for them anymore and says that if things don’t change they’re leaving. Things do not change and it is the night that the inner circle goes into Hewn city. at the gala, Eris ask Y/N to dance. And one of the boys is really brooding just standing in a corner just watching YN and Eris dance and then is the part where Taylor goes. “I can see you staring honey like he’s just your understudy like you get your knuckles, bloody for me” I want their eyes to connect from across the dance floor. That would be great. then I am giving you full creative freedom with the undertones of exile by Taylor Swift. give me all the angst you can give the more the better.

I absolutely love this idea! I hope that I live up to your expectations and provided enough angst to feed that burning hunger of yours! Also apologies that it has taken me so long, in all honesty I kept forgetting what I was writing and I wanted it to be PERFECT.

Exile

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Azriel starts to distance himself from you. Fed up with his disappearing acts, you confront him, only for it to end in driving you away entirely.

Warnings: Angst (and lots of it), Fighting, Language, Hurt and comfort (from Mor)

If there was one thing Azriel was known for, it was his dedication to his work and his undying loyalty to Rhysand. He was also your mate, someone who meant the entire world to you. You had met Azriel about two hundred years ago when you started your bakery. He came in after watching you struggle with carrying the large bags of flour, extending a helping hand. Since then, he started coming daily to see what new goods you were cooking up, and that's when he asked you on your first date.

The first date was a bit awkward as he shied away, speaking in such a hushed tone that you had to repeatedly ask him to repeat himself. Despite Azriel's strength, you loved his shy side. There was something so docile and soft about it, and you were the only one who truly got to see that side of him.

When the bond snapped into place, both of you were fighting over who would mix the flour, ending with both of you covered from head to toe. It was when he heard your infectious laugh that he felt it, and it was obvious when you gave him that loving gaze he was drawn to. Your eyes were so soft, and your smile was wide. So, that evening, you made him his favorite treat and offered it to him, which soon led to Azriel making sure Rhysand got it through Cassian’s head that you two were not to be bothered for a few weeks.

Those were the moments you missed more than anything. You missed curling up with Azriel as you read the same book, often sharing your reactions. You missed hiding from him to scare him, only to fail the moment his shadows shot out to greet you after a long day. You missed your mate, and your happy memories felt like a fever dream. He was starting to become a distant memory, and part of you wasn’t even sure if you wanted to put up a fight.

You couldn't recall the last time you had spent more than a few moments with him. Lately, he had been staying at the House of Wind to be closer to Rhysand, ready for any last-minute missions that might arise. Initially, you didn't mind, considering Rhysand's frequent missions, especially when Feyre was pregnant and needed his support. However, what began to trouble you was that he never invited you to join him, nor did he visit your shared home to see you.

Then you heard about the time he started spending with Elain. You weren't bothered by her, as you couldn't blame her for shutting everyone out. Her entire life had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and now she was essentially immortal, with a mate forced upon her. However, understanding also brought weariness. You could sense that she had developed feelings for your mate, and Azriel, being who he is, most likely was unaware of the affection she held towards him. Strangely, this knowledge made you want to be around him more, but you didn't know how to navigate the situation.

Azriel had been a significant presence in your life, and the sensation of him slipping away was something you loathed. At some point, he had closed off the bond, making it nearly impossible to reach out to him through it. Running your hands over your face, you attempted to dispel the exhaustion before deciding to visit the House of Wind to ensure Azriel was at least alive.

Your arrival at the House of Wind did not go unnoticed. Cassian, upon spotting you ascending to the training area, made your presence known. "Y/N! You're here. We've been wondering when you would show up. We were starting to think you didn't like us," he teased, capturing everyone's attention.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile as the breeze tousled your hair. "Yeah, things have been hectic at the bakery. Have you seen Azriel? It's been hard to find him lately," you inquired, noticing Cassian's expression contorting into one of pure confusion.

"What do you mean? He said he was with you this morning," Cassian replied, scrutinizing your every move. Dread began to fill your body as the realization that Azriel had even been deceiving the others dawned on you.

Forcefully laughing, you scratched the back of your head, clearing your throat. "No, he was! By 'lately,' I meant during the day since he's usually all over because of the missions Rhys keeps assigning him," you explained, even your forced smile fading as Cassian's gaze filled with concern and pity.

"Y/N, Rhys hasn't assigned him anything for a while, not after what happened with Feyre and your injury. Rhys wanted him to be around you more because of that close call. Are you telling me you haven't seen him?" Cassian inquired, raising a brow and challenging you to lie. By now, the entire area had cleared out except for Nesta, who stood in the background watching you and Cassian, her jaw tense. She knew something, and you would extract it from her if necessary.

"No, I haven't. I mean, he comes home once in a blue moon, but then he just sleeps in the guest room, and he's gone by the time I wake up," you admitted, your shoulders sagging. "I really miss him, Cass. The nightmares are starting to return. He's not avoiding me because he blames himself for what happened, right?" Just a few months ago, Azriel had angered someone, resulting in a dagger being firmly lodged in your side. Recalling that moment, you realized Azriel wasn't present when Cassian and Feyre found you on the floor of the bakery's kitchen that morning.

You heard Nesta curse before she joined Cassian's side. "I spoke to the idiot already, and I thought I got through to him. He's with Elain in the garden. I saw them just before training started, and considering how often they spend time there, he should still be there," she divulged, her expression shifting from anger to guilt. You wanted to be furious, but part of you couldn't muster the anger towards her. Nesta had tried her best to handle the situation discreetly, but with her knowing, you wondered just how long Azriel had been sneaking around with Elain while deceiving the rest of his family.

You hadn’t heard anything else Nesta had said as your feet carried you through the house. Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a solid chest, causing you to stumble back. Looking up, you sucked in a deep breath as your eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. "Azriel," you breathed, reaching out towards him. Your hand fell to your side when he pulled away from you. "I've missed you. You're never around anymore," your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to say anything beyond the standard 'I miss you'.

Azriel glanced over your shoulder, his expression hardening. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?" His eyes eventually met yours as a scoff escaped your mouth. You hadn’t seen your mate for the past few weeks, and that’s what he had to say to you? That you weren’t supposed to be there, trying to ensure he was alive?

"You're joking, right? Azriel, I haven’t seen you for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? A hello would’ve been nice at least," you snapped, crossing your arms. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "No, you don’t get to walk away from me, Azriel. That’s not fair. You don’t get to pull a disappearing act without some sort of explanation. You don’t get to lie to your family and expect not to get caught," you snapped, following after him. As the two of you entered the dining area, you missed the others sitting at the table, their conversations cut short as you stomped after Azriel.

Azriel stopped and spun towards you, his wings flaring slightly. "My gods, Y/N, can’t you just get off my back? I’m not going to be there every single second of the day with you. You need to learn how to live without me for once in your life." Any sound that filled the room suddenly fell silent as you took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

"Oh, shit." Looking around, you came face to face with your family, all silent as they watched you. Nesta was glaring daggers at Azriel, while Cassian and Rhysand were positioned to intervene if things went south. Mor and Feyre looked at you, their faces filled with guilt. Then there was Elain, sitting there with the audacity to appear clueless about what was happening. Your entire family was there to witness the potential downfall of your relationship with Azriel. Great.

"What's your issue, Y/N? Why are you on my case today? I haven’t done anything to deserve this nagging. Gods, it’s like after you healed, you became an overbearing mess," Nesta slammed her hands down on the table and stood, prompting Cassian to grab hold of her to prevent her from lunging at Azriel across the room.

A dry laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes. “Overbearing? Azriel, you haven’t been around in weeks! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And overbearing? Day to day, I have to deal with the people you anger, and I constantly fear for my life because of your job. I took a damn dagger to the side and almost died because of your job. I’m sorry if accepting you for who you are and your job is overbearing. I’m sorry that worrying for you is just so awful. You’ve changed, Azriel, and I don’t know if it’s because of the damn elephant in the room or if you’ve simply given up. I’m tired of dealing with the nightmares alone, and I want you back by my side when I wake up screaming because I constantly feel that dagger ripping me apart.” Tears streamed down your face as you looked around.

Rhysand had slowly made his way towards you with Mor by his side, the two members of this family, besides Cassian, whom you trusted with your life. Glaring down at the ground, you looked up at Azriel, your face void of any emotion. “If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done.” Azriel froze as a flood of fear slammed into you. He slipped, and you could tell the moment he slammed those walls back up.

“Clean up my act? You’re the one to talk. It’s like ever since you woke up, you became afraid of the world all over again. You shouldn’t need us to walk you to work and back. You shouldn’t need us hanging around the store all day just because you’re scared of someone showing up. I can’t stand to have a mate who is so fearful of the world.” You dropped your shoulders in defeat at his words. It was true; after what happened, you had been terrified of being in that shop, fearing they would come back and finish the job.

Rhysand was next to you in a second, followed by Mor, who caught you as your knees gave out. “That is no way to speak to your mate, Azriel,” Rhysand spat. “You sat around moping because you wanted one. The Mother blesses you with one, and this is how you thank her? Seriously?” Rhysand crossed his arms, the room noticeably darkening.

“Well, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe Y/N isn’t supposed to be my mate. We have nothing in common, meanwhile, Elain and I do.” The moment the words left his mouth, your head snapped in Elain’s direction as you clenched your jaw.

Looking back at Azriel, you shook your head. “I mean it, Azriel. If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done. Don’t bother looking for me until you figure out your mess. I’m done,” you spat, winnowing from your very spot into your room. Grabbing a duffel bag, you began to cram things into it just as you heard footsteps sprinting down the hall towards your door, and the echoes of voices calling out to the owner of those steps.

As Azriel threw open the door, you looked at him as he reached out for you, his mouth opening to say something. Before you could hear what he had to say, you disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of your room.

---

It had been a month since you chose to seclude yourself in Mor's guest bedroom. As the door slowly opened, light flooded into the dark room, and Mor stepped inside. Sitting on the bed, she gently rubbed your back to draw your attention. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's time to get you out of this room. Velaris has started to notice your absence now that the bakery is closed," she said softly, sensing your reluctance. "He still asks about you, but he's also spending more time with her. Rhys has tried talking sense into him, Cassian kicked his ass, and the girls have been giving him the cold shoulder. I'm sorry, my love, but perhaps attending the Gala in Hewn City would do you good," she suggested, brushing your hair away from your face gently.

You nodded and turned onto your side to look at her, a small frown forming on your lips. Mor's gaze softened as she sighed softly. "Come, I want to show you something," she said, gently pulling you out of bed. Standing up, you followed her out of the room toward another one just down the hall. Mor pushed the door open, revealing a mannequin adorned with a stunning deep purple gown featuring delicate beadwork climbing the bodice. The main skirts bore the design of a tree and leaves, with the beads on the skirt representing flowers. It was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen.

"I had it made for you to wear tonight. You deserve to look and feel beautiful. Azriel is taking you for granted. With your beauty and eyes that could bring a man to his knees, this dress is perfect for you," Mor whispered from behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders gently.

A wide smile graced your lips for the first time in a month as you turned to face Mor. "Thank you, Mor. Truly, it means a lot to me that you did this," your words were soft and heartfelt. A sense of brokenness lingered within you, the result of Azriel's neglect over the past month, compounded by the knowledge of his time spent with Elain. Mor guided you to the bathroom, where she helped you into the tub and began to wet and wash your hair.

"You know, we’re all upset with him for treating you like this. Yes, Elain needed help before, but even Nesta started to reprimand him for spending too much time with her. I remember when he first came home after meeting you. He was covered in flowers and had the biggest grin on his face. He couldn't stop talking about you, and Cassian often had to beg him to stop. But then, after one of his missions went awry and you got hurt, everything changed. He refused to see you, or even go near that part of the house. And then he kissed Elain. I thought Nesta was going to tear him to shreds. After that, he began lying to us about spending time with you, even after Rhysand practically forced him out of the garden." Mor's words pierced through you, mentioning the kiss shattered your fragile emotional state.

A wave of despair washed over you. Shoulders slumping, you gazed down at the water surrounding your bare form. "Do you think he still loves me?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Mor took a deep breath, visibly caught off guard by your question. She hummed softly as she poured water over your head, grappling for the right words.

"I'm sure he does. Azriel is complex, we all know that. For centuries, he's prayed to The Mother for a mate. I heard him whispering a prayer every night until he met you. Then it turned into begging her to ensure your safety. Azriel tends to shut down and push away those closest to him when he's struggling to cope. He avoided Rhysand when he returned from Amarantha's clutches. His treatment of you isn't fair, but I genuinely don't know how to reach him anymore." Mor cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "I'll leave you to dry off and get into a robe. When you're ready, come downstairs, and I'll help you dress and do your hair," she offered with a comforting smile, squeezing your shoulder before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for you to exit the tub once the water turned cold. After drying off your body, you slipped on a black silk robe and began to towel dry your hair. As you made your way towards the stairs, you made a mental note to find a way to thank Mor for everything she had done for you. Nearing the bottom of the steps, you froze upon hearing Mor engaged in a conversation with someone. Peeking around the corner, you spotted Azriel standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room, while Mor stared at him with an intense gaze. “She thinks you don’t love her, Azriel. You’ve pushed her to the brink of giving up,” she snapped, causing him to tense at her words.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to say. “I do, I just... I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a month, and I’m starting to go crazy, Mor. I don’t know what to do about it anymore, and it feels like everything I say comes out wrong,” he confessed. You noticed his shadows lurking in the room, beginning to slither their way towards you.

“And what about the kiss, Azriel? You kissed Elain while your own mate was at home, thinking you were off on some mission Rhysand assigned to you,” Mor jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “You gave up, and she kept pushing. This is your doing, and you need to figure it out. She was serious when she told you to clean up your act. Right now, you’re showing her you’ll never change, not after you hadn’t even bothered to come see her for a month knowing she was here. You pushed her aside for Elain. It’s time you finally accept the consequences of your actions, Azriel. If you lose her for good, that’ll be on you.” Before Azriel could respond, he tensed and turned towards you, his eyes widening.

Allowing your gaze to fall into a blank expression, you looked at Mor. “I’m ready,” your voice came out as a whisper, and Mor nodded, shoving past Azriel. You both made your way back up the stairs, leaving Azriel standing alone in the middle of the room. Once again, you were just out of his reach, and once again, he was on the verge of losing you for good.

---

The gala was breathtaking. Witnessing the courts gathering together always brought you immense joy. Tamlin made his way towards you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N! It’s good to see you again. We've been missing your baked goods dearly,” he grinned, prompting a laugh from you. Born in the Spring court, you had grown close to Tamlin, and it was there that you honed your baking skills while growing up. When the time came for you to seek a new path, Tamlin had let you go, assuring you that you would always have a home to return to.

When Azriel pulled his disappearing acts, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you often debated returning to Spring, where you knew you had a family who would welcome you with open arms. “Thank you, Tamlin. If I'm ever permitted, I’ll be sure to bring you some of my cookies that you drooled over,” you teased, brushing a curl away from your shoulder.

Tamlin looked around, a questioning look flashing across his face. “Where’s your mate? The last time you and I talked, he was glued to your side.” Your eyes dulled slightly as you shrugged. You hadn’t seen Azriel all evening, though you knew he was here as you were constantly followed by a shadow.

Before you could respond, Eris made his appearance, as fashionable as ever. “Y/N, you truly outdid yourself this time. You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Shall we have a dance?” Without waiting for your answer, Eris grabbed your hand and led you towards the dance floor, where bodies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. You and Eris fell into an easy rhythm as he looked down at you. “Sorry to drag you away from Tamlin, but I couldn’t help but notice how sad you looked. Is it because of your mate?” His eyes bore into yours as you sucked in a deep breath.

“It would be a mistake to lie to you,” you grumbled, earning a laugh of agreement from him. “Azriel and I haven’t talked for a good while. He’s been busy with other things,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. As you both spun, you caught sight of him standing in the corner of the room, watching you. Your eyes hardened as they locked onto his.

Eris cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “You know, if you need a break from your home, you can stay in my court. We obviously have the room, and I can make sure you get the space you need to think. As much as Morrigan hates me, she’s worried about you to the point where she asked me for help.” Studying his gaze, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was being genuine.

Looking towards Azriel again, you studied him, your eyes narrowing as Elain walked up to him, handing him a glass. Biting back your tears, you let your walls down, throwing every ounce of anger, betrayal, sadness, and fear at him. You watched as he stumbled back slightly, his hand flying up over his chest, his eyes locking onto yours. You watched as Elain reached out to him, running her hand over his arm as she tried to check on him. Eris stopped moving as he stood next to you, watching the interaction between the both of them. “Just say the word, and I can take you away from here,” he whispered.

You waited for him to brush off Elain, but he didn’t. He let her hand rest on his cheek as he kept his eyes on yours, his eyes widening. “He doesn’t care about me anymore, Eris. Take me to your court,” you said, looking up at Eris, who only nodded. You didn’t miss how he glanced at Rhysand and the others, giving them a small nod. You didn’t miss how their shoulders sagged in defeat once they realized you were leaving. You didn’t miss how the crowd began to part as Azriel raced towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. You watched as his body shook with sobs, how he begged you to stay, begged you to stay by his side. “Where were you when I begged The Mother to bring you back to me? Where were you when I was dying on the kitchen floor of my own bakery after taking a knife for you? Where were you when I woke up screaming for you? Go back to Elain, Azriel. You made your decision.” With that, you turned to Eris, giving him a small nod. With that, the both of you walked away, leaving Azriel on the ground sobbing into his hands before he disappeared from your sight as the crowd closed behind you.

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊.

i. ii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.

Word Count: 1.9k

taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.

The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.

There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.

Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.

It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.

It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.

Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.

Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.

And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.

Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.

Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.

She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.

“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.

Before she became this… thing.

“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”

She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.

Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.

The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.

The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.

Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.

To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.

Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.

Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.

A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.

Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.

The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.

Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.

The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.

The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.

Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.

The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.

The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.

The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.

Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.

She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.

Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.

All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.

The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.

A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.

Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.

There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.

Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.

Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.

Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.

And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.

🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You’re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

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