jules-writes-stories - Tumblr blog

jules-writes-stories · 3 days

Text

It’s so good. FR. Best Koschei I’ve read, maybe ever. And protective Azriel? Reader fans herself…

Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 9

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: Not really sure how many miles into the continent the lake is, but for this fic just assume its tucked away in a remote location. Just a reminder that I took out the scene from acosf where Cassian and Azriel speak to Koschei. Assume this scene is their first encounter with him. Named one of Eris's brothers Alix. Kinda doing my own thing with Koschei. Did not find him to be very scary in acosf so I'm trying to make him into something entirely different. Just go with it!

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list!

Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Chapter 9:

Azriel drifted between thick, dark clouds, his wings beaded with icy droplets of water from the storm gathering around him. Cassian flew several dozen yards to his left, eyes trained on the terrain far below. Between the gaps in the clouds, miles down, Azriel could make out the dark stretch of water churning and rippling restlessly, like the surface of a vast cauldron. The lake was a brooding, gray expanse, its waters dark and uninviting under the overcast sky. The jagged shoreline was bordered by dense forests and barren stretches of rocky terrain that sloped up into steep cliffs, some partially shrouded in mist.

Eris had alerted him to Beron’s departure only hours ago and Azriel had winnowed himself and Cassian to the edge of the continent. They had been circling for over an hour now, waiting for Beron to appear, but the dark shores of the lake remained empty and desolate.

Two mornings ago Azriel had woken up beside Eris, warm and blissfully happy, more so than he’d been in his entire life. The last thing he’d wanted to do was return to this cursed place.

The cold wind sliced Azriel to the bone, and not even his winter leathers could keep away the chill, or prevent his skin from pebbling uncomfortably under its steady assault. Though it was only partially due to the frigid temperatures. The wrongness of the lake made him uneasy, and reminded him of the ancient magic of the Middle.

As Azriel circled back around from the east, his eyes scanned the small temple situated atop the eddying waves. There was nothing remarkable about it. Smooth, white stone, seemingly untouched by the years it had weathered against wind and rain and snow, sat perched on a slab of glistening black rock. The arched door to the temple was adorned with swirling symbols and markings, all wholly unfamiliar to Azriel. He wondered what Eris would make of it—if it was perhaps one of the languages he had mastered during his tutelage as heir.

The lake’s ominous presence seemed to taunt Azriel. He had sworn he’d heard faint whispering echoing against the cliffs, but whenever he angled his head to listen the wind swept them away.

The last time Azriel had been here he’d been distracted—his mind entirely consumed by thoughts of Eris. Not much had changed on that front, though now he was fully aware of the stakes should something go wrong. He prayed that whatever they learned here today could give Eris the upper hand against his father—and give all of them the upper hand against Koschei.

Azriel had done his best to keep his shadows at bay, tucking them close behind his wings and wrapping himself tightly in a pulsing blue siphon shield that clung to him like a second skin. It was all he could think to do, for his shadows never truly left him. That is, until the last time he’d been here, when they’d seemingly vanished into his skin. He shivered at the memory. Cassian’s presence was a comfort, regardless of the fact that he was hardly speaking to him after his fight with Eris. For now, he had more important things to worry about.

They’d waited long enough.

He gave Cassian the signal and they dove quickly towards the muddy shore on the western side of the lake, wings tucked in tight. Azriel held his breath as his feet hit the damp soil—waited for the assault on his shadows and the screeching in his head to begin. But seconds passed and nothing happened. Azriel examined the stone temple where it rested around a hundred yards from where they’d landed, his Fae eyesight allowing him to see it as if it were mere inches away. He stood silently, eyes focused across the water.

Azriel’s breath curled in the cold air like puffs of smoke. There was no life here. No twittering of birds or chirping of insects. The murky water was black and endless and some primal sense warned Azriel not to touch it—that to do so would be a grave, possibly fatal, mistake. That it might truly drag him under if he got too close. Cassian was motionless beside him as he, too, gazed out across the stretch of gray.

By Rhysand’s orders, they were to get close enough to observe, but nothing more. He had warned them not to approach the temple for any reason, and to only speak if spoken to. And so they waited. Minutes ticked by and the air grew colder. The wind howled eerily across the water and whispered through the branches of the trees behind them, like a desperate song from the souls forever trapped beneath the lake’s surface. Azriel tucked his wings in tighter and rested his hand on the hilt of Truth Teller where it was sheathed at his thigh. His eyes burned from the icy wind that lashed at his face.

And then it all stopped—the water went still as glass and the air seemed to thicken and slow, pressing against his skin and muffling the sounds of the earth around them. All he could hear now was the rapid thump of his racing heart.

He glanced warily at Cassian and by the unnerved look on his brother’s face he knew he’d felt the change as well. Azriel’s breath came faster as the uneasiness within him grew. The water lapped softly against the shore. He was hit with a sudden certainty that they shouldn’t have come here. This place spoke of only death and pain and despair. They needed to leave now, while they still could—

It was like he’d been dropped in a pool of ice cold water. Azriel’s entire body went rigid as some oily, dark power slid across his skin and seized everything that he was. He tried to move, to escape, but his body refused to obey, wholly ensnared by the dark magic that shot across the black water, wrapped itself around him and squeezed. It was as if the very blood in his veins no longer belonged to him.

Azriel’s eyes were wide and unblinking as his vision tunneled—until all he could see was that floating mass of darkness above the water. The shadow warped and twisted and grew until he was looking at a large, cloaked figure, draped in black so dark it was painful to behold. The figure spoke in a low, slithering hiss, cold and ancient and horrible.

“I’ve seen your heart, shadowsinger.” The voice snaked along his bones and echoed loudly in his ears. “I’ve felt it burn.”

Koschei’s face was hidden beneath a black hood and his shapeless, cloaked body hovered eerily above the lake. Inky shadows frothed and writhed around him like crashing water. Azriel stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, at the death-lord who now held him in his grasp.

Koschei's voice dripped with sinister amusement as he spoke again. "The shadows whisper many secrets, Azriel. Even those hidden in the most forbidden places find their way to my ears. Did you think you were the only one who spoke their language?” His laugh was a chilling, hollow sound that echoed out of the darkness and skated painfully along Azriel’s bones. “How does it feel, Prince of Darkness, to play with fire?"

In that moment, time seemed to stretch, every second a lifetime of terror as his mind reeled at the meaning behind the words. Eris. Somehow this death-lord had been watching them—had been listening, even confined to this remote and forgotten corner of the continent. How? How had he seen?

Koschei sniffed, and the air around him hissed and warped in response. The death-lord’s laugh felt like sharp claws against his spine. “I can smell the ancient past on your skin. How long I have waited.” The figure shivered in excitement. “Tell me, shadowsinger. What would he do to keep you?”

Azriel stood frozen to the spot, fear a tightening noose around his neck. The creature lifted its head and the hood shifted. Where Koschei’s face should have been, there was only infinite darkness—a yawning abyss that devoured all light and warmth. The void seemed to pull Azriel in, and he would have screamed in terror if he had control of his tongue. The scene in front of him disappeared.

He wasn't seeing Koschei or the lake at all, but fire—vast, unearthly, world-ending fire that tore across the land, consuming everything in its wake. Screams echoed through the inferno—pained, wretched screaming that seemed to come from every direction. Azriel watched as the sky was ripped apart and darkness spilled in through the cracks, unleashing horrors beyond anything he could ever imagine. Masses of teeth and claws and scales—shadows and inky darkness. Wide, lidless blue eyes bored into him hungrily. Prythian burned—the world burned, as war raged around him. Excruciating pain tore through him as Fae, human, and animal alike turned to ash. And then he saw Autumn ablaze with that unearthly fire. The rivers ran red with with blood and all the while, a slithering, hissing laugh echoed loudly in his ears, drowning out the chaos and searing itself into his mind—

Then it all stopped, like a tether between them had snapped. Azriel was sucked back into his own body once more and collapsed to his knees. His stomach heaved and he wretched into the damp soil, his body trembling with horror at what he had seen—real?

“I’ll see you both soon,” the voice hissed, edged with horrible, wicked delight.

The last thing Azriel saw was Cassian’s terrified face before the darkness consumed him and everything went black.

***

Azriel sat limply in one of the plush armchairs in the living room of the river manor and stared vacantly at the floor. Cassian had flown with him on his back until they were within range of Rhys, who had winnowed them both directly to his estate.

Now, Rhys leaned against the fireplace, stone-faced and wary, while Amren paced in front of it, pausing occasionally to glance at Azriel skeptically. Feyre sat in the chair beside him, brows furrowed in concern. Cassian had been the one to relay Koschei’s words, as Azriel was too disturbed to speak.

“Are you going to tell us what this all means?” Cassian demanded. Beneath the anger, Azriel saw his own fear mirrored back at him on his brother’s pale face. Cassian had beheld the cloaked figure, had felt the air warp and freeze, and had listened to the words that slithered out from beneath that black hood. But his brother had not been snared by that dark, otherworldly power. No, only Azriel had been affected, had fallen into some kind of trance—one he couldn’t break free from until Koschei had released him. Cassian had been unable to do anything but stand there uselessly.

Azriel averted his gaze and kept his mouth shut, in part to avoid answering their questions, but mostly to prevent himself from emptying his stomach onto the rich carpet beneath his boots. Rhys mercifully spoke up instead.

“It would seem that Koschei is now well aware of our alliance with Eris,” Rhys said smoothly. Azriel could’ve kissed him for redirecting the conversation. “What he intends to do with that information will likely not be good for any of us, especially Eris,” he continued darkly. Azriel’s stomach clenched with dread. How does it feel to play with fire? He closed his eyes and swallowed his nausea, but the image of Autumn burning was like a brand on the insides of his eyelids.

“Then we have to warn him,” Feyre said firmly. “He said it himself that Beron’s been paranoid. Koschei’s likely the one who’s been whispering in his ear all this time.” Her voice was tight as she addressed them all.

Azriel could only nod. He sensed he was missing something crucial, but couldn’t put a finger on what exactly that was. All he knew was that he needed to see for himself that Eris was safe before panic smothered him entirely.

“If Koschei is aware of Eris’s betrayal, and informs Beron, what exactly can we do to protect him? Are we prepared to go after Beron ourselves?” Cassian asked with a glance at Azriel. “Is Eris worth the risk of stirring up the other courts and potentially igniting another war?” Though Azriel knew the questions were fair, each one only added to his mounting horror and he wanted to roar at his brother for daring to ask them. Instead, he remained silent and kept his eyes on the flickering fire so as to hide how close he was to falling apart completely.

“That remains to be seen,” Rhys said evenly. “But he’s risked a great deal in allying with us. As Feyre said, the least we can do is warn him.”

Azriel nodded again, still beyond words. He accepted the glass of liquor Cassian handed him but didn’t take a sip.

“What about the vision?” His own voice sounded gravelly and foreign in his ears. When no one responded he dragged his gaze away from the flames. They were all looking at him with varying degrees of alarm.

“What vision?” Cassian asked, brows drawn together in confusion.

“You didn’t see it?” Azriel rasped. Had Koschei shown it only to him?

“See what?” Cassian demanded at the same time Rhys said, “Show me.” Azriel’s stomach rebelled at the idea of recalling the images he’d been forced to witness, but when he felt that dark, silken hand brush against his mind in request, he relented and dropped his shields.

Azriel watched the blood drain from Rhysand’s face until his skin was the color of ash. Rhys looked at Azriel with such terror in his eyes that he felt guilty for opening his mouth in the first place. His brother had only just recovered from the recent horror of nearly losing his mate and son, and now they were all in severe danger once again. Feyre stood and walked to Rhys, wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Show me?” A silent conversation passed between them and seconds later Feyre whispered that she needed to be with Nyx and left the room. Rhys watched her go, his normally bright eyes dark and pained.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Cassian ground out. Amren stepped forward as well. They both went still as they, too, watched Koschei’s vision unfold. Amren cursed viciously.

“This is a clear warning,” Amren said to all of them. “Of the devastation he intends to unleash when he is free to roam the world once more.” Cassian shivered at the ominous words. The conversation continued on but Azriel could barely hear it over the memory of those agonized screams echoing loudly in his head.

It had been a very long time since Azriel had been afraid of the dark. He’d long since learned to thrive in it, to speak its language, until the shadows had become a comforting embrace. But when he thought of the darkness beneath that hood—that yawning chasm of endless black and despair—fear unsheathed its claws, wrapped them slowly around his neck and squeezed. Death-lord indeed. He shivered and tossed back the liquid, savoring the burn as it went down.

***

It was over an hour before everyone left, until only Azriel and Rhysand remained in the darkened sitting room. Amren and Rhys had debated back and forth as to how Koschei might free himself and open what Amren described as a rip in the fabric of the world, with Cassian occasionally chiming in with his own thoughts. Azriel hadn’t spoken a word. Couldn’t speak. He needed to get up, but his legs felt like lead and he knew he owed Rhys an explanation for his behavior.

Rhys didn’t waste any time. “What is going on between you and Eris?”

The last thing Azriel wanted to do was talk about his feelings, but the secrecy had been weighing on him heavily, and now that Eris’s life was in danger, even more so than usual…hiding in the shadows no longer mattered. Not here, at least.

“We’re…together,” Azriel said lamely. That was about all of the detail he was inclined to offer.

“Together how?” Azriel leveled Rhys with an icy look. Rhysand ducked his head but not before Azriel saw the small smile on his face, and his temper rose sharply.

“Is something funny?” The words were a soft snarl.

Rhys snapped his head up, eyes wide with alarm at Azriel’s dark tone. “No. No, Az, I’m not—it’s just amusing how things work out. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Azriel relaxed at the sincerity he beheld on his brother’s face. Rhys went on, “So this was a warning for all of us, but more specifically for you. That he knows about the two of you. And you’re worried he means to tell Beron.” Azriel nodded, jaw clenched too tightly to speak.

“Do the other words mean anything to you? ‘The ancient past’? The vision?” Rhys pressed him.

“No,” Azriel bit out. He was currently being eaten alive by his fear for Eris. He needed to contact him immediately, and said as much to Rhys.

“Fine, go, warn him. Just be careful,” Rhys said warily. “We’re not done discussing this.” He looked like he wanted to add more, but held his tongue. Azriel was out the door and traveling across Velaris before Rhys could bid him farewell.

***

A full day had passed and Azriel had still not heard from Eris. Yes, he had warned Azriel that he’d have to be more discreet, so the delayed response wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but Azriel was itching to do something, anything, to make sure he was okay. He’d give him one more day, and then…he’d decide what to do. One more day.

He was going out of his mind with worry, living in a constant state of terror that something horrible had happened to him and that Azriel would never know. Or maybe Eris was being hurt right now, and Azriel was sitting on his ass uselessly.

The thought had him on his feet, desperate for a distraction from the gnawing dread. Azriel flew up to the House and landed on the edge of the sparring ring that had become a permanent fixture over the last few months. Nesta and Cassian were in the ring while Gwyn and Emerie watched on with interest. Their eyes all found Azriel as he stepped out of the shadows. Nesta and Cassian paused their sparring to greet him.

“Finally tired of being out of shape?” Cassian taunted. “When’s the last time you trained?” The words were meant as a dig, but they held a degree of truth. It had been a while. Nesta eyed him knowingly and Azriel stared back at her. Her hair, damp with sweat, curled at the nape of her neck, and her cheeks were flushed from exertion. She looked much better than the last time he’d seen her, and Azriel’s chest lightened ever so slightly at the realization.

“I need a break,” Nesta announced and walked out of the ring to the water station beside her friends, seemingly aware that Azriel needed to work off some steam and that Cassian was the only opponent who could match his skill.

Cassian’s face was guarded, and Azriel’s usual guilt returned and settled like a rock in his stomach. He’d been unfair to Cassian—shutting him out completely, making little to no attempts to bridge the gap that had formed between them since Azriel began spending all of his spare time with Eris.

Cassian had been spooked by Azriel’s reaction to Koschei and it hadn’t helped that he’d refused to elaborate on any of it. The tense set of his shoulders said as much. He wondered if it was now clear to Cassian that what Azriel and Eris had was more than friendship. He didn’t ask.

Azriel stepped into the chalk-lined circle, rolling his neck and stretching out the tightness in his shoulders. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, striding to the middle of the ring and stopping a few feet from Cassian. He took up a fighting stance and Azriel mimicked him.

At Cassian’s nod, they began. Azriel kept his eyes on his brother as they slowly circled one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Azriel’s thoughts quieted and he let himself slip into the focused calm he always found when sparring. He desperately needed this release, and Cassian was happy to provide it.

“Well?” Cassian needled. “Feeling a little rusty?” Azriel didn’t take the bait and kept his attention focused.

A second later, Cassian lunged. Azriel blocked the fist that flew at his face and returned with a jab to Cassian’s stomach. He dodged the hit and aimed a punch at Azriel’s ribs and their dance began. Azriel tried to get lost in the movements, tried to maintain the calm silence in his head as he ducked and weaved around Cassian’s assault. He scored a lucky blow to his brother’s ribs and turned at the last second to avoid a punch to the mouth. They were both panting and glistening with sweat as they moved. Their bodies were honed into fierce weapons only centuries of training could achieve. They each knew the other’s weaknesses well and were evenly matched. Kick, punch, hit, step—the maneuvers were as natural to them as breathing.

The thought of Eris sparring flitted across Azriel’s mind and he wondered if the male would be able to hold his own in a fight. The brief distraction cost him as Cassian drove his fist straight into Azriel’s gut. The air left him in a whoosh and he staggered, wheezing painfully.

“Something on your mind, Az?” Cassian’s teeth were bared in a vicious grin. Azriel snarled as he righted himself and charged. Cassian ducked under his arm and returned with a counterattack. Their dance picked up speed, the blows coming harder and with greater force as they each tried to gain the upper hand. “Talking might help,” Cassian panted as he sidestepped the sweep of Azriel’s leg.

“I’m fine,” Az ground out. His fist snapped out in a blur that would’ve put lesser males on the ground, but Cassian blocked it easily.

“Spare me the bullshit, Az,” Cassian shot back as his arm swung wide in an attempt to clap Azriel on the side of the head. He ducked and drove his fist up and it finally connected with Cassian’s ribs. He grunted in pain but didn’t slow. On and on it went until Azriel’s breath was sawing out of him. Cassian feinted left and then drove his elbow up into Azriel’s face. He turned his head at the last second to avoid a broken nose, but in the same breath Cassian hooked a leg around his ankle and jerked his leg back.

Azriel landed on his back with a thud and his body bleated in pain. He groaned and wiped the sweat from his eyes, the bright sun near blinding as it beat down on him. And then a shadow blocked the light and he met Cassian’s hazel eyes, lit with amusement.

“When you decide to trust me again, I’m here,” he said, quietly enough that only Azriel could hear. Azriel dropped his gaze, shame pooling in his gut. But when Cassian held out his hand, Azriel grasped it and let himself be hauled to his feet. His entire body ached.

“My turn,” Nesta called from behind him and Azriel turned to face her. Her smile was bright and her eyes glittered with excitement and challenge.

He could use a few more hours of distraction, he supposed. He grinned back at Nesta and took up the fighting stance once more.

***

The respite offered by the sparring lasted all of one minute upon returning to his apartment. Alone with his thoughts once more, the fear and dread slowly crept back up like twisting vines curling around his limbs and choking off his air supply.

He tossed and turned all night, only managing a few minutes of sleep despite his exhaustion. The following day passed in a blur and by the late afternoon he had little memory of anything he’d done since he’d left his apartment that morning.

It had now been two full days since Azriel had contacted Eris and all he’d received in return was deafening silence. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he could barely breathe, and he was damn near close to pulling his own hair out. He needed to do something.

Seconds later, Azriel took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway of Rhys’s large office. He found his brother kneeling before a bookcase in the corner of the room.

“I need to talk to you,” Azriel said forcibly. Rhys jumped at the sound, banging his head loudly on a shelf in the process. He turned to Azriel with a glare.

“Gods Azriel, don’t do that. Have you ever heard of knocking?” Rhys complained, rubbing the top of his head gingerly as he stood. “This is going to bruise,” he grumbled.

Azriel ignored him and stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. Rhys took in the frantic look on Azriel’s face and sobered up immediately.

“What happened?” Azriel swallowed once. Twice. Dragged his hands through his hair and sat in the chair before Rhys’s desk.

“Nothing. I’ve heard nothing,” Azriel rasped. “I think he’s in trouble. I’m only here to tell you I’m going after him.” Rhys’s eyes flared with shock and his mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Are you out of your mind?” Rhys asked incredulously. Azriel didn’t respond and Rhys paled at whatever he saw in his face. “Tell me you’re not that stupid,” he said darkly. Azriel ground his teeth together to prevent the retort from slipping out. Rhys held his stare, those violet eyes flickering with fury as he realized Azriel was indeed serious. “Let me make this very clear,” he snarled softly. “Under no circumstances are you to step one foot into Autumn. Not even a shadow will cross that border.” His High Lord’s rage was palpable, the gleam in his eyes one of pure threat as he willed Azriel to obey.

Azriel was relieved to be sitting as that volatile power rippled through the room like a dark cloud and settled on his shoulders. He was certain his knees would’ve given out if he’d been standing. He said nothing.

“I want to hear you say it. Do not go looking for Eris,” Rhys snarled. Azriel glared back at him, bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood in his mouth. He fought against the raw dominance in the command, threw every ounce of defiance he could muster back at his High Lord even as his shoulders bowed slightly under the force of it. “Azriel.”

“You expect me to do nothing?” he bit out. He gripped the armrests so hard the wood groaned and splintered under his hands.

“You’ll get yourself and Eris killed just by going there! He knew the risks in allying with us.” Azriel jerked back at the words. He didn’t care if they were true, they made him want to tear Rhys apart.

They glowered at each other. “You will remain in Velaris until he contacts you,” Rhys said, the words dangerously soft. “That’s an order. Do you understand?” Azriel stiffened, and sweat beaded on his forehead as he resisted. Finally, Azriel nodded.

“Get out. Go home and stay there,” Rhys snapped.

Azriel left as quickly as he had come, winnowing back to his apartment to begin gathering his weapons, anything he might need to protect himself and Eris once he got to Autumn. He rolled his neck and shook off the lingering effects of Rhysand’s power.

He’d never actually agreed to anything, had only nodded in understanding. His brother could piss off. Not even an order from his High Lord would keep him from Eris.

What if Beron already knew? Eris could be locked in a dungeon somewhere in the Forest House. Or worse. He cut off the thought before it could sprout and grow like poison in his blood. His hands trembled as he grabbed Truth Teller to strap to his back—

As if conjured by Azriel’s panicked thoughts, Eris winnowed directly into Azriel’s living room. Azriel whipped around and choked in relief. He was across the room and hauling Eris against his chest in a blink. He breathed in his intoxicating scent of cider and warm spice and let it wash over him.

“Azriel? What happened?” Azriel didn’t answer. He gripped Eris tighter.

Eris winced. The pained sound had Azriel stiffening instantly. He pulled back to look at Eris’s face and froze.

His beautiful face was marred with purple and black bruises all along his jaw and cheekbones. His right eye was black and so swollen it was nearly sealed shut. Azriel gaped at Eris in shock and fury. A vicious snarl escaped his throat before he could choke it down and his entire body spasmed with rage. Carefully, with a trembling hand, Azriel lifted Eris’s shirt. His blood began roaring in his ears.

Ghastly black and yellow bruises trailed up the right side of Eris’s torso. His ribs had evidently been broken mere hours ago and had only just begun to heal. Azriel couldn’t see or hear over the primal wrath coursing through his veins.

“Who.” The word was low and promised violence. His shadows writhed and skittered around him as he slipped into a cold killing calm.

“Who do you think?” Eris’s tone was light, unconcerned. Azriel stared and stared at those bruises. “Azriel.” Eris said his name softly. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll be healed by tomorrow.” Eris lifted Azriel’s chin with his fingers so their eyes met. That haunted look was back—his amber eyes were shadowed and dull. Azriel let his shirt fall back into place, feeling murderous at the sight of that beautiful skin so harshly marred.

“It’s not nothing, Eris!” Azriel growled. Eris flinched and Azriel’s fury deflated. Gods, he was an idiot. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. What happened?” Azriel tried to slow his heart and took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

“I made the mistake of inquiring after my father's absence from court as of late. He didn't take well to being questioned,” Eris said wryly. At Azriel’s bewildered face, he sniffed and added, “Even I have my moments.”

Azriel could barely see the room around him through the red haze now coating his vision. He wanted to peel the skin from Beron’s bones, slowly, over the course of several weeks so he would be begging for death by the end. He’d snap every bone in his body until he was nothing more than saggy, bruised flesh. Or maybe a death by a thousand well-placed cuts, and then he’d remove his head from his body for good measure. He tried and failed to reign in his low growl.

“Easy,” Eris said. Azriel took another deep breath. He let the violent fantasies soothe him as he unclenched his fists. Eris arched the brow above his uninjured eye. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking about?” he asked dryly. Azriel glared at him, unamused, and slumped onto the couch. Eris sat down beside him.

“Don’t joke about this,” Azriel ground out. “It’s taking all of my self control not to winnow to Autumn right now and slit his throat.” He met Eris’s eyes again and knew instantly that he was holding something back. “What else?” Azriel pressed, more gently this time. Eris glanced down at the floor. He swallowed thickly before speaking, hands trembling as he clenched them tightly in his lap.

“Things in Autumn have been…uneasy,” Eris started. “With each passing day Beron grows more paranoid and more violent. He’s convinced there are traitors in his court.” Azriel stiffened at the words, but Eris went on. “He demanded my brothers and I root them out, and deliver them to him for questioning.” His voice wobbled slightly and he paused for several seconds. “I had just gotten back from a hunt with Alix when we were both summoned to the throne room. My father had apprehended two snakes, he’d said. Two lords who have served Autumn for over 100 years. Good males.” Eris’s voice was a hoarse whisper now, and Azriel’s stomach sank as he suspected where this story was headed. “He had me execute one, Alix the other, right there in the throne room for all to bear witness. I did it. I—” He pressed his lips together, unable to continue, and looked away. Azriel reached out and turned his face. His amber eyes were rimmed with tears and the sight of them cracked something in Azriel’s heart.

“You had no choice,” Azriel said, and meant it. To disobey Beron might’ve meant Eris’s own death. Azriel would let a thousand Autumn Court lords die if it ensured Eris’s safety.

“They were good males,” he whispered again, miserably. “And yet all I could think about as I did it was what if it had been you? What if you—” Eris’s voice caught and his eyes were so full of agony and self loathing that Azriel’s heart splintered in his chest. He knew the feeling all too well. He gently pulled Eris against him, mindful of the bruises, and curled a wing around them both. As Eris cried out his anger, and misery, and guilt, perhaps his pain too, Azriel weathered it with him and did not let go.

***

When Eris had finally calmed down, he remembered that Azriel had called him there for something urgent.

“Cassian and I went to the lake as planned. We…saw Koschei. He spoke to me.” And then the words were spilling out of him and Eris listened intently, his face paling further with each word from Azriel’s mouth until his skin was the color of fresh snow. When he spoke of the destruction he’d been shown, the fire that had raged through Autumn, Eris looked like he was going to be sick. When Azriel was finished, neither of them spoke for several minutes.

“You think this was a vision? Of what shall befall us all if Koschei is set free?” Eris asked. Azriel nodded. “The ancient past…” Eris murmured to himself, eyes distant and unfocused. Azriel let him ponder it. If anyone could decipher Koschei’s riddles it would be Eris. “I think…Koschei’s curse is tied to Autumn, but how, I can’t be sure. And I don’t think Beron is aware of it either,” Eris said darkly.

“What does it have to do with us, though?” Azriel asked. Or had Koschei merely been taunting him for his own amusement? “And why does it feel like he’s on the verge of breaking free? What’s changed?”

“I don’t know,” Eris whispered, his eyes fixed on the floor. He reached out and took Azriel’s scarred hand in his, both of them falling silent once again. Azriel was afraid. “I can’t stay long,” Eris sighed. Azriel jerked his head up, hoping he’d misheard him.

“Eris, you can’t go back.” Now it was Eris’s turn to look at him in disbelief.

“I have to. There are people counting on me. People I need to protect.”

“And what about you? Who protects you?” Azriel’s panic was building again. Beron could be informed of Eris’s betrayal at any moment, and then he would be alone to face his father’s wrath. Azriel couldn’t stomach it.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Eris said hoarsely. Azriel ground his teeth in frustration. There was no reason for Eris to waste time worrying about him. After all, he wasn’t the one in constant danger, and he could take care of himself. Eris didn’t seem to notice his anger. His eyes were distant and haunted again, his mind far away.

“I should go.” He made to get up but Azriel wouldn’t release his hand.

“Not yet, please.” He wasn’t above begging at this point. “I thought you were dead. Give me a few minutes to appreciate that you’re not.” Their time together was never enough, and every time Eris left it was like a piece of Azriel went with him.

Eris’s gaze softened and he smiled faintly. Azriel pressed a kiss against that small smile, the touch feather light, and Eris melted into him. He gently guided Eris onto his back and brushed his lips softly against each bruise, willed them to heal quickly so Eris wouldn’t be in pain. And then Azriel worshipped every inch of his body, took him deep in his mouth until he was panting and trembling with pleasure. It wasn’t nearly enough, but he’d take anything Eris would give him.

Hours after he’d left, Azriel could still taste the male on his tongue. He sat alone in the dark gloom of his apartment, his chest empty and hollow. His heart was miles away with Eris. As he laid down for the night and tried to sleep, Azriel sent a silent prayer to the Mother, pleading for Eris’s protection. He hoped with everything he was that it would be enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full Chapter List

Tag list: @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @christeareads @jules-writes-stories

27 notes · View notes