hollowember

[hollowember]

Shadows and flame prt. 2// Azriel x female Vanserra OC

The follow on from the part 1 fluff/ come down.. etc etc.

This is probably poorly written and unproofed smut with a long lead up, some Vanserra family content and tension. Also muucchhh longer than prt 1.

---

The grand ball room was decorated in golds, reds, dark greens and browns, typical for the Autumn Court style. But the entire hall was lit by candle light and places were set for a grand court dinner. It was the lead up to Candlemas, a marker of hope in the winter months, from a time before the Courts were established and darkness ruled the winter. The hall was beautiful, despite being filled with Autumn Courtiers, lords and ladies who either adored her father or tolerated him out of fear him or love for their position.

She had never gotten used to being displayed on the dais, along with her brothers, father and mother, they all dined on the dais. The feast on their table was decorated far more extravagantly than the tables below, but eyes rested not on the food but the family of the Autumn Court. 

She was always positioned towards her fathers end of the table, not next to him, never, but always too close to hide. Her mother sat to Beron's left, also displayed but always under his grasp. The chair to her fathers right side was usually reserved for Eris, the Autumn Courts unofficial heir, but it seemed today a lesser lord had taken her father's interest, her brother sat seething between herself and their mother. 

To be honest she was grateful he'd taken the seat usually reserved for the second eldest of their siblings, an awful brute who was more interested in the court ladies and servants than keeping his food in his mouth.

Despite Eris' harshness, she got on better with him over any of her other siblings, besides, it was far more entertaining watching Eris try to regain their father's favour. Each time the lord spoke, Eris would interject with a snarky comment or a smooth counter argument, he was itching to have their fathers ear again. She studied her brothers tight jaw and barely narrowed eyes, hidden well with a relaxed posture and a delicate hand on his wine glass. Briar wondered what was riding on this for him, what the sneaky fox had planned or hidden. 

Only after Briar had counted the courtiers twice over, and had made note of who was there, did she realise her brother had taking to more quiet seething. 

She side glanced Eris, "Maybe he's a better conversationalist." Briar said around her food.

Eris was quite for a beat, inspecting her. "What?" he said flatly.

"Father's new best-friend, better conversationalist than you. More interesting, no doubt."

Eris narrowed his eyes, his wine glass hadn't left his hand most of the night. "Maybe he's got a nasty son that father can sell you off to. Finally get rid of you."

Briar scoffed, hiding how hard those words hit, "Have I wounded you little fox? Is that why you bite?"

Eris kept quiet, drinking deep. She hoped the booze would dull his senses to the new presence in the Forest House. A shadow that made her skin prickle. 

Eris's words were more true than she'd like to admit. Her father was holding out for the best offer, his only daughter wouldn't be given to anyone, they had to have money, influence, land, all of which Beron wasn't able to just take for himself anyway. She was likely to be sold to a neighbouring Court, or maybe even to some Lord on the continent. Briar looked out at the Courtiers, there were many in the hall who would like the power of a Vanserra alliance. Families ran strong in the Autumn Court, the patriarchal family system was all they'd known, and fathers had a nasty habit of surviving in their court.

A featherlight touch brushed against Briar's shin, if she hadn't of known better she would've said it was simply a shadow hound looking for someone to beg food from.

"How long before we're dismissed?" Briar grumbled, anxiety gnawed at her stomach, to her knowledge Azriel had never come this close, not himself anyway.

"We're here to entertain, sister, you know that." Eris grumbles, "Nothing more than painted whores."

Eris gestures to a cupbearer, she fills his cup but before she slinks away Eris catches the cupbearers arm. He chugs the wine cleanly before holding his cup for her to fill again, then gently releases her. The cupbearer disappears in a blink.

Poor female was terrified, the Vanserra name tarnished with underhanded brutality. Briar had learnt to be sharp but not yet cruel. Maybe that would come, maybe the affect their father had had on her brothers would soon engulf her too. Maybe she would become cruel, maybe that was the only way to survive, to shut out everything else. She'd somewhat mastered the mask, uncaring and cold. It was hard to keep it from seeping in to her actual emotions. To stay warm and caring. To say there were some things that she still cared about.

Briar held out her glass to the cupbearer then tipped it towards Eris. "If we're here to entertain, might as well enjoy it."

A smirk pulled at her brothers serpentine lips, his brows low on his ember warm eyes, and he clinked his glass with hers.

The lights and the music slowly came to life, finally the party was interesting. She still laughed at Eris' attempts to gain space in their father's conversation, only his approach became more brutal, dry, and clipped. Her laughter became louder and more open.

"What loud children you have Beron." Lord Farley rose his voice, making sure it wasn't only the head table that could hear but the tables below the dais probably could make out the noise he made.

He caught the attention of her siblings, all the way to the end of the table, some leaned in to listen, others sneered, eyes rolled but unrest settled over the table. She knew her siblings were all carefully aware of their father's gaze, movements, words when he said:

"Some more than others."

Eris with some great deal of arrogance stared right at their father, head titled back slightly to rest against the chair.

"I had hoped to make a proposal with your family soon," Briar's blood turned to ice, a shiver danced across her skin, she forced herself to remain still, to not swallow a gulp, "Now I'm not so sure."

"Oh good, we'll be spared from the Autumn troops leftovers." Eris scoffed. It didn't quite get a rise out of Farley, his jaw clenched but he kept his gaze on Beron, Eris bit down harder. "Poor girl has had more cock than there are leaves on Autumn's floor." The male went red, that didn't stop Eris who leaned it with a bite in his laugh, "Why do you think the training grounds are so close to your lands?"

"Enough, boy!" Farley had a fat finger pointed at Eris, his breath heaving through the holes in his plump face. "I'll not have you speak about my daughter in such away."

Briar's lip twitched, it was remarkable how someone could change colours in such a way. She felt the silence across the table. For once her awful brothers had fallen silent, watching.

Beron stayed quiet, waiting.

A test, it was always a test. Eris was unnamed heir to Autumn, perhaps he always would be; it didn't stop the need to prove himself anyway.

Eris hummed, "Maybe we'll move the base, the men are bored. Thimley has need of more troops in the south. Your daughter and niece will make good entertainment for them on the journey down there I suppose." Her brother shrugged and took another deep drink. "Or perhaps your brother is more capable of handling your lands, surely better at keeping his tongue."

Eris sat back in his seat, waiting for something more from the fat lord. Farley stared a Beron incredulously, Briar wished she'd heard what outlandish nonsense he would have spewed next had an awful sound not erupted from his mouth. A choked scream came from Farley, who opened his mouth to show a severely blistered tongued.

He whined some injured noises looking between Eris and Beron frantically.

Beron frowned at him, with a hint of confusion, "Clearly you've been dismissed." He sneered, looking at Farley dripping sweat.

The male left grumbling and whining, nearly falling off the dais. Beron's gaze remained on Eris, completely unreadable before he scoffed, "Was a chair really worth the drama, boy?"

Eris didn't look like a victor, his face stayed impassive, "Yes, father."

---

Briar's evening, after enough wine to fill a bath, was wonderful. She managed to slip off the dais for a moment to dance, remembering to put a show on for the Courtiers, but she had danced alone. Not gripped in the arms of some lords son.

She's sure her father would have some creative punishment for having embarrassed him waiting for her tomorrow, but right now she didn't care. No, Briar couldn't find an ounce of remorse as she stumbled down the halls, a guard following to make sure she didn't end up spending the night in a corridor instead of her rooms.

The guards were all spies for her father. She liked to think her charm had won over a few, but the threat of her fathers wrath was probably more convincing to them. Like Ronen, the guard walking her back now, he was often posted to her rooms or to shadow her movements on hunts. She had no doubt her father had his claws deep in him and he'd give up any information on her at his command. That was a fraction of the reason why, when they reached her rooms, she paused at the door, leaning back against it letting a deep silence rest between them.

She studied his face, sharp pointed features of a thoroughbred High Fae family, a typical choice of her father, the lesser fae stayed away from The House. She wondered what made him significant in her fathers eyes, why he was chosen, entrusted, to keep her from wandering the halls drunk as a clurichaun.

She had to fight for his eye contact, watching his face, his jaw tight, shoulders set and eyes firmly on the door behind her. A game of patience, Briar wasn't afraid to remain in silence, wait out her foes. It took more than a minute before his stare broke, and his eyes flicked to her then back to the door.

"Ronen." Just above a whisper but he tensed, her head tilted.

Ronen cleared his throat, "Lady Vanserra."

He was handsome in a conventional manner, strong jaw, sandy blond hair, solid shoulders, and a decent reputation, not yet blooded but he was young, a fresh recruit to replace those lost in the war. "Care for a drink?" She asked in a sweet, gentle voice.

The guard flushed, "I don't think you should drink anymore, my lady."

Briar raised an eyebrow, pushing off the door keeping her hands clasped behind her back. "Is that your opinion, Ronen?" She challenged moving closer to him, still untouching but his stance opened up to her ever so slightly. She went close enough that she had to tilt her chin slightly to meet his eyes, and watch blood seep into his cheeks.

Usually the guard would dip his head, apologise and keep his stare fixed on anything else. Her father wanted it that way, the guards to be afraid to even look at her or her mother, his looming presence always there.

That's what Briar expected, for the young male to get flustered, but much to her surprise Ronen looked at her openly, maybe for the first time in her life had a guard looked at her like that. A smirk danced on her lips as she backed against the wall next to her door, more to steady her swaying than to put distance between them. The alcohol in her blood put fuel to the fire, her skin burning.

Briar kept her eyes on her guard. Her dress was simple with its fastenings, she hated being dressed by servants so she had the seamstresses make gowns she could manage herself. She found the knot holding her skirts to her waist, and Ronen watched the movement but stayed cemented in place. Beron would kill him, if he found out. She pulled at the knot, Ronen's eyes snapping to hers when the skirts dropped. She was still covered, an under skirt, bodice, corset, some fabric, but this was more than any guard had seen. Especially one working for her father.

The bodice was buttoned up the back, but her magic wove in and out, unfastening each button until the bodice slipped down between them. She kept quiet, kept her eyes on him, not dropping their eye contact to see if he'd meet her challenge, play her game. 

Ronen moved then, slow calculated steps, kicking the fabric on the floor aside.

They'd never been so close, she could see the dimples in his skin, his leafy green eyes that reminded her of the Spring Courts flora, and his hard set brows that had finally relaxed as he looked her over.

He leaned in closer still untouching but finally looking her at her without apprehension. His gaze travelled over her as he leant to her side, chest brushing her arm, before he opened the door to her rooms.

"I'll take a drink." He said lowly. Briar cracked the door she kept her magic hidden behind, letting it seep out the cracks, exposing it like a nerve in a wound, feeling what he felt, seeing her through his eyes. Lust, anxiety, desire, fear. She leant in closer, brushing her nose up the column of his neck, just under his neck, up to his ear as he braced a hand above her head. She could hear the whispers of his thoughts, all of them eager to hide their actions in the confines of her rooms. 

Briar bit the lobe of his ear as she felt the male breathe in her scent, "Kiss me here." She challenged, pulling back to rest her head against the wall, watching the cogs turn in his mind, feeling his confusion wash over her skin. 

Ronen didn't move, his expression grew confused, he threw a look over his shoulder to the empty corridor beyond then flicked his gaze between her and the door. 

He made no move to kiss her, no move to touch her. Briar hummed, with a snap of her fingers the fabrics on the floor disappeared into a fold in reality. She dipped under his arm and disappeared into her rooms without him. 

Briar locked the door behind her, Ronen had disappeared the moment she had, almost running from her rooms like a frightened boy. 

She didn't have a heart beat to sigh before she drew her dagger and swung. The blow was blocked, her arm met with a sturdier one. She dropped her dagger catching it in her other hand and angling up towards the males chest. He dodged, then grabbed her arm, twisting the dagger from her grasp and slamming her hard against the wall, her other arm pinned to her side. 

The Shadowsinger's hazel eyes met hers, and in a beat of stillness, their breaths were the only sound. 

Briar sent flames skittering towards him. The Shadowsinger flinched, his shadows retreating, the grasp on Briar's arms dropped. 

He backed away one step, with shadows shrouded around him, Briar found his face impossible to read. But her powers remained loose, hearing the whisper of his shadows, feeling the heat of his desire and excitement, a bubble of anticipation ready to pop in his chest. 

She took a step forward and another until she was, almost, chest to chest with the Illyrian. She pushed him back further with another whisper of flame, again and again, until his thighs hit the bed, his wings flaring to steady himself. 

Briar pushed again, Azriel laid himself back on the mattress, hazel eyes still deathly focused on hers. 

She climbed the bed straddling his thighs, his wings splayed enough so her knees didn't crush the fragile skin, unfastening the laces of his pants. She could feel his arousal beneath the fabric, but she didn't waste time teasing, moving her fingers around him the way she knew he liked. Briar simply freed him enough to gain access, moved her remaining skirts out the way and sank down with a sigh. A deep groan came from the male beneath her and she shuddered at the sound closing her eyes to truly concentrate on feeling him deep within her. 

She started to move, riding back and forth in a way that felt best for her, leaning back to feel him right against that spot. Briar didn't worry about putting on a show, not what her face, hair or breasts looked like, or the sounds she made. Scarred hands gripped her hips, holding the fabric free of their movements, Azriel licked his lips in a way that made Briar think he was about to speak. 

Taking his hands from her hips, Briar pinned them to the bed, leaning in close enough to brush her lips to his. He chased her lips up, attempting to catch them in a kiss, instead she whispered, "Not a word." Softly holding his chin in place to keep his gaze fixed on her. Nodding, Azriel relaxed beneath her, running one hand down her calf, but not holding, not commanding. 

Briar bit back a smile, enjoying the way Azriel shook with restraint as she ran her hands down his neck and chest to his wings. Dancing her fingers over the smooth membrane and hard ridges of muscle and bone. Pleasure sparked through her blood as his body tightened beneath her, a tight growl ripping from his throat as he threw his head back against the sheets and curled his hands into fists, keeping himself from holding her to him and having his own way with her. 

She resumed a growingly relentless pace, leaning her weight against an arm braced on his solid thighs, she lost herself in that pleasure of having him under her, a male she knew and unfortunately trusted, a specimen of power, darkness and death embodied. She rode him like it was the last time she might ever get to have him, kept going until her legs began to tremble and pleasure built a fire in her stomach. 

Under hooded eyes Azriel watched the female above him slowly unravel, coming closer and closer to that pinnacle's edge. His hands moved then, finding that spot between her legs with precise expertise and working the nerves until her body trembled and she tightened suffocatingly around his cock. He rode her through it, pushing himself upright to attack her neck with hot, open mouthed kisses, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her riding him to his own high. Quickly found, once her hands moved from pulling the strands of his dark hair to teasing the skin of his wings, his whole body tensed keeping her firmly in his lap to release deep inside her, shuddering against her body until silence and stillness rested over them. 

Sex with Briar had never been so strange, he daren't move in case she pulled away. They'd never rested in such an intimate position afterward, she cradled his head to her chest with both arms, a hand carting through locks of hair, his own on her back holding her close as they both quietly caught their breaths. 

She pulled away first a slight frown caught on her brow. Azriel caught her lips before she could speak, savouring the way she tasted and moved her lips against his, gentle and explorative. He cupped her cheek as she pulled away, stroking her smooth, lightly freckled, skin. "Not a word." He whispered, looking into her deep green eyes. 

She nodded, and the pair fell silent as they helped each-other undress, before slipping beneath the covers like it was the norm. Briar didn't freeze as Azriel's shadows cloaked the room, his wing stretched out to cocoon them, she simply fell into a deep restful sleep tucked under his chin, nestled against his warm solid chest. 

[hollowember]

Shadows and flame// Azriel x female Vanserra OC

Fluff, Vanserra OC and Azriel stuck in an enemies to lovers cycle.

This is a prelude to an idea that's been kicking abt in my head for a while...

--

She was worn out, the shadow singer usually put her through her paces but... it had been a while.

His scarred hands brushed over her hair as they both panted for breath. She let herself enjoy the warmth of his bare chest beneath her cheek. Many a time, had they tried to kill one another, the irony lay in how safe she felt against him, cocooned in his arms that cradled her to his chest, his pale, muscle-padded skin.

She peered up at him through hazy eyes. His lips quirked at the corners, but he pushed her head gently back to his chest. "You're so good for me." He whispered.

It was so fucked up. He was insane. She loved him.

She had a duty to her house and court, he was the enemy, his court power-hungry and dangerous.

He scooped her up softly, shadows or wings or some other darkness shielded her from the lights as he carried her through hallways that twisted like a labyrinth. She should count the turns, memorise the path make sure he couldn't trap her here but then shadows whispered around them and a cold breeze pinched her skin and they appeared somewhere new entirely. She didn't have much time to take it in but she knew there was a bed, a soft wide bed that swallowed her whole pulling her into the depths of sleep as the Shadowsinger pressed his body against her back, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

---

Briar woke with a jolt and a gasp. Leaves crunched beneath her yellow, gold, orange and red filled her vision. Not soft, dark bedsheets. Leaves. Rotting leaves. She was back in Autumn.

Her tunic and pants that she had worn before seeing the shadow singer were back on her body, and her heavy deep red velvet cloak was wrapped around her. Briar pushed herself up to sit, leaves crumpled beneath her, and something in her palm crumpled, too.

She unfolded the note left in her hand, it read: Better luck next time, A

Heat filled her cheeks and her chest went tight as she stared at the handwriting. She burnt the note right there in her palm, the ash staining her hand.

She inspected the pack he'd left by her side, some food, water, her dagger, and a change of clothes. She took her dagger and burnt the rest of the pack, kicking the ashes and covering them with dead leaves before stalking into the forest.

She knew this forest, despite how the trees and shrubs would move to create a labyrinth of trickery. She knew the paths to take, knew that while the forest moved with the winds, the streams, rivers, and lakes remained the same.

She found a stream she'd always been fond of and striped down, submerging herself in an icy blue pool that had been created by a short waterfall. 

Briar washed the Shadowsinger off of her. She stole days like these every decade or so, but the last time had been much longer, over half a century had passed from the last time she had seen the Spymaster to now. They had been far too close and with that, too close to being caught. She hadn't risked it since. Her father had only just allowed her on hunts alone again, his suspicions and grudges had held firm for decades, and she'd played the game for long enough in order to get out of the court for a night.

If she'd played well enough, she wouldn't be interrogated, if not...

Briar sighed, rinsing her hair through. Along with being the only female, she was the only sibling who didn't have her mothers fire red hair. No, her hair was dark like her fathers and eyes green like her mothers.

Azriel's hazel eyes were etched into her memory, the ring of pale brown/green closest to his iris was nearly impossible to see last night. She doesn't know how he returned her so soundlessly to Autumn, but she remembered every moment up until sleep took her.

She didn't particularly like the Shadowsinger, but their paths had crossed enough times for them to come to this unspoken arrangement.