multi-fandom-imagines8

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 21

You can read previous chapter here.

Summary: Azriel takes Y/n out of the house, and the two share a few personal moments as he  reveals parts of his past. The next day, Nesta, Y/n, Cassian and Azriel venture into the Bog of Oorid.

WC: 3.5K.

As both sisters walked into the River House, they were greeted by surprised looks from Amren, Feyre, and even Rhys. None of them dared say anything, at least not directly.

Nesta offered Feyre a nod of greeting before taking a seat next to the map.

“Are you sure about this?” Y/n asked, standing a step behind her sister. 

Nesta only nodded, but Y/n sensed there was more to it. She wasn’t doing this just for Elain. There was something different about her this morning. Distraught, but not because of the scrying.

As Nesta took the stones and bones and closed her eyes to focus, silence fell over the room. All eyes locked on her. 

After some time, Nesta’s grip tightened, her knuckles white, and her eyes darted rapidly behind her lids. Rhys tried entering her mind again, but to no avail. This time, she’d put all her shields up. 

Things were getting out of control.

“Get her out. Something is wrong. Get her out now!” Y/n demanded, her voice sharp and filled with panic, but Rhys couldn’t.

“Nesta! Nesta! Please open your eyes!” Y/n dropped to her knees in front of her sister, cupping her cheek with trembling fingers. “Nesta, come back to me,” she whispered desperately. 

Then Cassian echoed her words, whispering something softly into Nesta’s ear. Finally, her eyes snapped open, but she didn’t release the stones and bones. Her gaze was distant, hollow, different, and her skin was cold to the touch. Y/n slowly stood, unease prickling at her spine, as she drew her hand from Nesta’s cheek.

“Nesta?” she said cautiously, searching her sister’s vacant eyes.

Nesta didn’t seem to hear her. Slowly, she turned to face Cassian instead. 

Somehow, he managed to reach her, to ground her, bringing her back with a kiss. Y/n cringed at the sight, but said nothing as Nesta’s fingers finally loosened, the stones and bones clattering onto a place marked on the map: the Bog of Oorid.

Everyone began discussing what that place was and what the next move should be, but Y/n couldn’t hear any of it. Her attention was solely on her sister.

“I thought I lost you for a second,” she whispered hoarsely, leaning in closer.

“It won’t be that easy,” Nesta replied with a weak attempt at a smirk.

The plan was made– Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel would leave the next morning after breakfast to retrieve the first of the Trove: the Mask.

“I’m going with you,” Y/n said firmly. It wasn’t a request but a demand.

“Y/n, it’s too-” Feyre began, but was promptly cut off.

“I’m. Going. With. You,” Y/n repeated, her tone brooking argument as her eyes stayed on Nesta.

“If these two are on good terms again, then Mother help whatever’s in Oorid,” Amren whispered to Feyre, a smirk curling on her lips.

—

Azriel waited until Nesta and Cassian had retired to their rooms before standing and approaching Y/n, who was sipping her evening tea. 

“Ready?” he asked, voice low as he leaned against the doorframe.

“For what?” She blinked at him, completely forgetting about his promise.

“To go out,” he reminded.

“Right... I didn't think you’d actually follow through.”

“You wound me,” he said, placing his hands over his chest and feigning a look of mock pain.

Y/n scoffed, setting her tea down with a smirk tugging at her lips. “Feyre was right.”

“About what?” he asked, straightening with mild suspicion.

“The three of you. You’re Illyrian babies indeed,” she teased.

He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again, clearly not having a comeback.

She chuckled under her breath. “Lead the way, Shadowsinger.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, gently placing a hand on her waist as his shadows danced around her, ready to take off.

“Hewn city,” she deadpanned.

His eyes darkened instantly, and she caught the shift.

“I’m kidding,” she added with a soft laugh. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

“I have a place in mind. Would you prefer flying or winnowing?”

She blinked, surprised. “That’s the first time you’ve asked me that.”

“That’s because we’re usually in a hurry, and winnowing is faster.”

“You did fly me here all the way once, though,” she reminded, her gaze drifting upward as if searching for the memory hidden in the clouds above. Her voice softened unconsciously, the edges of a smile pulling at her lips. That day–the first time they were this close. The day he made something inside her shift.

Azriel glanced at her, noting the way her expression changed. “That day, you wanted to explore the city. I thought you’d enjoy the view from above.”

“I did,” she murmured, her tone almost wistful.

—

They arrived at what looked like a stable nestled against a wide open pasture. The horses roamed freely, untethered and unconfined.

“You brought me to a stable?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“It’s not just a stable,” Azriel replied, walking ahead slowly. “I used to come here before I… before I learned to fly.”

Her eyes darted around the surroundings. “We’re in Illyria?” she asked, frowning slightly at the familiar terrain. 

He nodded, eyes fixed on the horses.

“I thought you hated it here.”

“I do,” he admitted quietly. “But this is one of the few places that I don’t hate.”

“You don’t talk much about it.”

“There’s nothing to say,” he said, almost too quickly.

She let it go. “I get it. Can I ask you something?”

He nodded again, this time meeting her eyes. His expression was unreadable, but softer than usual.

“How did you come to accept what you are?”

“You mean as-”

“As an Illyrian,” she clarified. “You hate your people, your heritage. So how did you come to terms with it?”

A crease formed between his brows. “Who says I have?”

“You… you seem like you have,” she said gently. “The way you dress. The weapons. The power you harness. The way you fight. It’s all Illyrian.”

He looked down for a moment, shadows flickering quietly at his back.“I suppose a part of me has… but I still struggle sometimes with accepting who I am.”

She nodded slowly. “I see.”

After a long pause, he asked carefully, his gaze searching hers. “You’re asking because you still haven’t come to terms with what you are yet, aren’t you?”

She exhaled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, as if shielding herself from the weight of the question. “Yes. I thought if anyone had insight, it’d be you.”

“You don’t have to fully accept it. Just don’t let it define who you are. Being Fae or Illyrian isn’t something you choose, you’re either born or forced to become one... That might be what we are, but it’s not who we are. That, Troublemaker, is something we choose ourselves.”

She nodded slowly. “So who are you? Spymaster? Shadowsinger? Warrior? Or just… you?”

“All of it,” he answered with a small shrug. “Just like you are more than one thing now.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in amusement. “And who might that be?”

“Hmm, let me think.” He rubbed his jaw, playing along. “First and foremost, you are a troublemaker,” he said with a teasing grin.

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms again as her lips twitched. “That’s not entirely true, but proceed.”

“You’re a stormbringer.”

“You’re getting creative with finding nicknames for me.”

“They do suit you. And lastly…” He paused, almost hesitant. “I’m still working on this one. Might not be the final version yet, but… Ice Princess.”

Y/n burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Ice princess? Really? Do I even want to know how you got to that nickname?”

“I told you I’m still working on it.” He gave a small shrug. “But since you asked, it fits. Ice, because you have ice powers, obviously. But also because…”

“Because what?” she asked, eyes narrowing playfully again.

“You can be as cold as ice sometimes,” he said, deadpan. “Figuratively and literally.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll take that.”

“You’re not mad?” His brows lifted slightly, clearly surprised by her relaxed attitude.

“Why would I be? I am cold and that’s just a fact.”

“But you aren’t always,” he added softly, his voice a little more serious now.

“I’m not?”

“No. Take you now, for example.”

She looked away, pretending to focus on something in the distance. She had let her guard down again, she barely noticed it or rather ignored it. Whenever he was around, her walls weakened. She relaxed. Let go of the facade. She enjoyed herself around him. But she shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“I…I do give people a break from time to time,” she muttered. “But that doesn’t mean this is who I am. Don’t let this get to your head.”

He noticed the slight shift in her tone, how defensive she’d gotten. He wanted to point it out, but something in him told him not to. He feared he might ruin this, whatever this was between them now.

“You didn’t ask about the second part,” he prompted after a beat.

“I don’t think I want to know.”

“Come on, ask me,” he coaxed, the corners of his mouth lifting again.

She groaned softly, giving him a sideway glance. “Fine. How did you come up with it?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said, straightening with an overly satisfied grin. “Just don't get defensive.”

“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this…” she muttered under her breath. 

“You act like a spoiled princess sometimes.”

“Me? Spoiled?” she gasped, placing a hand to her chest in exaggerated offense.

“Yes. Hear me out.” His expression turned mock-serious. “But not just that. Something about the way you carry yourself. The way you talk and act. How you never seem to fear anything. How you wouldn’t bow to anyone, no matter how much stronger or more dangerous they are.”

She raised her chin, eyes gleaming with defiance. “Those sound more like the characteristics of a queen, actually.” 

He chuckled under his breath. “True.”

“But since I don’t want that responsibility of ruling over a kingdom, princess will have to do.”

Azriel laughed, the sound rare and warm as he shook his head.

“You still haven’t told me why you chose this place or why you came here in the first place.”

He sighed, glancing up at the sky. “Flying meant freedom,” he began, voice quieter now. “I was the only boy my age who couldn't fly. Even after I left my father’s estate, I still felt trapped, confined and one day I stumbled across this place. I saw how the horses would run and run, how they reigned free. I wanted more than anything to feel that kind of freedom. And so every time I felt trapped, caged, I’d come here. It became a source of comfort but also motivation, that one day, I, too, would achieve that freedom.”

She looked around at the open fields, the quiet peace of the valley washing over her, then back at him. “And now?”

“I still come here for both,” he admitted with a faint nod. “Even though I can fly now, and I’m technically free, I still feel trapped sometimes. Life isn’t always what we expect it to be. This place remained a source of comfort to me. I hoped it could bring you a little bit of both.”

A small smile softened her features. “You always seem to know what I need. Last time I was feeling low, you brought me to a mountain. And now this.”

“I always try to help a friend in need,” he said, looking at her more than the landscape now.

She smirked. “You should be careful. I now know a lot of your hiding places.”

Azriel snorted. “Don’t worry. I still have many more,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

After a beat of silence, she glanced sideways at him. “You said you came here before to motivate yourself, to help you with the flying and freeing yourself... Are you giving me ideas to plot my escape plan?”

“You can try,” he said with a crooked grin. “But there’s nowhere in this world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

She stepped closer, her expression sharpening with mock suspicion. “Are you threatening me, Shadowsinger?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Just stating the facts,” he replied, eyes glinting with that familiar quiet confidence.

She almost forgot he was a spymaster for a second. “Ah, yes. You’re sneaky little shadows. They’re just as insufferable as you are. Maybe that’s why you’re able to command them,” she said with a casual shrug.

“Have you been thinking about me and my shadows a lot lately?” he teased, taking a step toward her.

She matched him, stepping closer enough to feel his breath. Rising to her toes, she leaned in and whispered in his ear, “If anything, it’s to try and find a way to eliminate you. Both… or all of you.” She gave him a mischievous grin.

He chuckled low in his throat. He knew she didn’t mean a word of it, and so did his shadows. They coiled lazily around her back and shoulders, amused by her boldness.

“They like you,” Azriel noted, gesturing slightly with his chin toward the swirling shadows.

“Or maybe it’s just part of your evil plan to make me think that so I don’t pursue the matter.” She gave him a look, eyes narrowing with playful doubt as a sly grin curled her lips.

“Evil?” he echoed with a scoff, one brow rising, amusement tinging his voice. “You’re the one with the violent plan.”

“I thought you enjoyed violence,” she pointed out with a tilt of her head.

“I don’t mind it” he admitted. “But I’d rather not see you anywhere near it. So let’s skip the elimination part and keep things interesting in other ways.”

"You’re worried about me?"she asked, arching a brow as she stepped  even closer.

His expression turned serious, though the ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips "I’d be a fool not to be.”

She laughed under her breath, the sound surprisingly warm. "Well then, I guess I’ll have to find another way to keep you on your toes.”

“Just keep it non-violent,” he teased, despite the faint thread of seriousness woven into his tone.

She nodded, a genuine smile breaking through her teasing demeanor. "For you, I think I can do that.” Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added. "But don't think this means you're off the hook.”

Azriel’s shadows seemed to ripple with silent laughter, and he shook his head, bemused. "I wouldn't dream of it.”

She bumped his shoulder affectionately before stepping back. "Good. Now let’s get back before someone notices you took me out. I’d hate to see anyone else shed your blood.”

He chuckled, his wings twitching slightly. “Now who’s worried about whom?”

“If anything, it’s because you said no violence," she replied, her eyes serious and sharp despite her playful tone. "If your brothers try to give you a hard time for this, I'll fight them myself. If anyone is going to spill your blood, it would only be me.”

His expression softened, touched by her words even if they were wrapped in threat. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

She smiled, the tension easing. "Agreed. But just so you know, I'm serious.”

He nodded, gaze holding hers steadily. "I know. And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

—-

“So, how does it feel to finally carry a sword?” Cassian mocked as they all prepared to head to Oorid. They were fully equipped, armor, weapons, layers of protection. No one knew exactly what they’d be facing.

“Bite me, General,” Y/n muttered, shooting him a sharp glare as she tightened the strap of her leather vambrace.

“I don’t think that’s professional,” he replied, smirking. “Especially now.”

She turned to Azriel, who was sheathing the last blade at his thigh, and pointed toward Cassian. “Can I stab him?”

“You can try,” Cassian challenged, clearly amused.

“Not yet,” Azriel replied dryly. “We still need him. If there’s a monster we can’t fight, you could offer it Cass.”

She grinned. “Good idea.”

“You wound me, brother,” Cassian gasped, dramatically placing a hand on his heart. “Is that what happens to you when you’re in the company of a beautiful female? You’re just going to sacrifice me? After all these years? After everything we’ve been through together?” 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already,” Y/n quipped.

“You’re a wicked witch, Y/n,” Cassian muttered.

“But I am the prettiest,” she replied sweetly, placing her hands under her chin and batting her lashes.

Nesta, fastening the buckles of her leather chest plate, finally cut in. “How can you two be this relaxed when we’re literally about to enter a place no man dares to set foot in?”

Y/n glanced at Cassian, then back at her sister. “I don’t think the General is relaxed. I think he’s distracting himself before he secretly shits himself,” Y/n teased.

“What about you?” Cassian questioned.

“What’s the worst that can happen? They’re gonna kill us?” Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, adjustingher belt. “We’ve been in so many life-threatening situations, I lost count. After the King and the Cauldron, I can face anything. Besides-” she motioned to herself and Nesta. “We have powers. If anything, the monsters should be afraid of us. And we’ve got the two most powerful Illyrian warriors by our side. I think we got this.” She said it all so casually, so calmly, as if this were just another errand.

“I’d like to have your mindset in a battle,” Cassian murmured under his breath, only half-joking.

When they reached the Bog of Oorid, an oppressive stillness greeted them. There was no sign of life, no wind, no rustling leaves. Not even a single sound from the creatures that should’ve inhabited the area. The air was thick, damp, and mist clung to the ground like a living thing. It was unlike anything Y/n or Nesta had ever seen. 

A strange sensation curled in Y/n’s gut, not fear, something worse. It pulled at her like a thread tugging loose from a tightly-woven fabric. She didn’t feel the same uneasiness the others did. If anything, she felt drawn to this place.

“Not one insect. Not one bird” Azriel murmured, scanning the surroundings with sharp eyes.

“Good, I hate insects,” Y/n said dryly, folding her arms. Azriel glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

They continued on, each step deliberate and cautious. No one spoke as they seemed too focused on the road ahead of them. The fog muffled even the sound of their movements, swallowing it whole.

“The silence is nice,” Y/n added lightly, a hint of mischief in her tone. She cast a glance at Azriel, trying to lift the tension. This time, he halted mid-step and turned toward her, studying her with that unreadable face, but didn’t say a word.

“What dwells here?” Nesta asked.

“Things that hunt in the water and feast on flesh,” Azriel replied flatly.

“No one’s seen A Kelpie in a damn long time,” Cassian added grimly.

“What’s a Kelpie? Nesta questioned.

“They’re ancient monsters,” Cassian explained. “They lured people into the water and drowned them. Then feasted on them.”

“Easy. Don’t go in the water,” Y/n shrugged casually..

“You’re seriously telling me this place doesn’t give you the chills?” Cassian looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve seen worse.” To her, nothing would ever be worse than the King of Hybern- who, to this day, still  haunted her dreams.

“What else is there?” Nesta pressed.

“Witches. Not the human kind,” Cassian said, glancing at the fog as if expecting something to appear.

“They don’t sound so bad,” Y/n replied, unfazed.

“They drink young blood to fill the coldness magic left in them,” Cassian added.

Y/n hummed. “Hmm-”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Cassian warned, narrowing her eyes at her.

“What? I didn't say anything.” She widened her eyes in mock innocence.

“You were thinking of finding a way to talk to one,” Cassian accused..

“We could capture one,” Y/n suggested casually, inspecting her nails. “And the Shadowsinger could torture her for any information we need.” 

Azriel turned his head slowly, brow lifting ever so slightly.

“We don’t need information from a witch,” Cassian said flatly. “And you seem too comfortable with torture.”

“I might need some information,” Y/n quipped, flashing them with a devious smile.

Cassian scoffed. “I’m starting to think you really want to become a witch.” 

Azriel didn’t say anything, but a glint of worry sparked in his eyes. His shadows stirred slightly, reacting to the quiet note of unease behind his gaze.

“Would that be such a bad idea?” she asked genuinely, tilting her head.

“Yes. Especially if it’s you,” Cassian replied without hesitation.

“Why?” Her brows drew together, genuinely curious.

“You’d kill us all. And with your temper? I don’t think even the humans would be safe from you.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, glaring. “If I ever become a witch, congratulations you just became the first on my list of people I want to kill.”

Cassian raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Which is exactly why I’d rather kill every witch than see you turn into one.”

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Idk what it is about the song of ice and shadow or if you just happen to always post a new chapter when I’m in a bad mood myself but the entire time I’m just rooting for her to be the biggest bitch possible and call them all out lol. I absolutely live for it!!

I’m glad that you love her character. She’s still gonna be the biggest bitch in future chapters. I just hope that you’ll still like her when she’s being like that towards a certain someone.

And I hope you’re doing better now or that the chapter got you feeling at least a little better 💜

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 20

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: After a dangerous incident, Y/n and Nesta finally reconcile. Y/n is upset with Azriel for something he did.

WC: 2.6K.

Y/n awoke in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling, her chest tightening as if something dark and oppressive was pressing down on her. A second later, a piercing scream shattered the silence. Nesta.

Y/n jumped out of bed, her heart pounding as she bolted down the hallway toward her sister’s room. The door was ajar, Azriel had just let go of Cassian, who rushed inside.

“What’s going on?” Y/n demanded, skidding to a stop at the threshold.

Azriel moved before she could step inside, blocking her path. She shoved against him, panic flashing in her eyes, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he held her tightly, restricting her movement.

“Let go of me, Shadowsinger,” she hissed, struggling in his grip, her nails digging into his arms. 

“Y/n, it’s too dangerous.” His voice was calm and steady, but there was a tightness beneath it, strained, almost pained. He held her firmly, but never aggressively.

His calm tone only fueled her anger. She struggled harder, but he didn’t release her. His jaw clenched, and his shadows twisted restlessly at his shoulders, as if reflecting the war inside him.

He didn’t want to hold her back. But he couldn’t let her get hurt

Her gaze snapped to Rhysand, who stood over Nesta, his expression a cold mask of focus. Power pulsed around him, his magic tangled around Nesta’s mind, his presence burrowed deep into her thoughts. Cassian knelt at her side, his voice hoarse as he called Nesta’s name, trying to wake her. Trying to relinquish the silver flame. 

“DO SOMETHING!” Y/n screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

As the flames began to recede and Nesta’s body relaxed, Azriel slowly released Y/n.

The moment she was free, she shot him a glare, pushed past him and stormed forward, shoving past Cassian and dropping to her knees beside her sister. Her hand grasped Nesta’s tightly, ignoring the males completely. 

As the three males began discussing Nesta’s powers, Y/n overheard something Rhys said, something that made her rage snap.

“You fucking bastards,” she spat, rising to her feet. Her hands shook with fury.

Azriel stiffened slightly, but Rhysand turned toward her, unflinching.

“You’d do anything to get your way, wouldn’t you?” she growled, stepping toward them. “You saw what happened the last time she tried to fucking scry. It opened a door and Elain almost died!”

“Elain is safe and guarded,” Rhys replied smoothly, as if it excused everything.

“Nesta wasn’t!” Y/n’s voice trembled with unrestrained rage. “And don’t think for a second I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re manipulating Nesta with Elain, making her do your dirty work. Fucking selfish assholes.”

Rhysand’s expression remained impassive, but his violet eyes darkened. “Nesta is a grown female. She can make her own choices.” 

Y/n barked a laugh, cold and humorless. “Is that what helps you sleep at night? Pretending you’re not a selfish prick putting her in danger?”

Cassian looked torn, but before he could speak, Y/n rounded on him. “And you,” she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You let it happen.”

Cassian stiffened. He couldn’t even say anything, but guilt flickered in his eyes.

“If something happens to Nesta, I will fucking kill you,” Y/n whispered, every word laced with deadly promise as her gaze flicked to Rhys again. “And I don’t care if I have to release the worst monster in Prythian to do it, because I will,” she threatened, and something in her voice told them she wasn’t bluffing. If Nesta died because of any of them, she’d let the world burn to get her revenge.

Rhys took a slow step towards her, magic coiling behind his eyes, but Azriel stepped between them, silent and steady, blocking Rhys’s path, stopping the tension from escalating. He didn’t speak right away, he just held Rhys’s gaze with quiet intensity. A silent plea. A warning. A reminde. 

“We should let Nesta rest,” he said calmly, his voice low and firm.

Rhysand relented, magic fading as he stepped back, his jaw tight. He glanced at Y/n one last time before turning and leaving the room.

Cassian lingered, but Y/n shot him a glare that made him leave without another word.

Once she was alone with Nesta, the guilt hit her, sharp and immediate. For everything she had said to Nesta, for not speaking to her all that time, for pushing her away when she knew that if anyone could understand even a fraction of what she was going through, it was Nesta.

Y/n sat beside her and didn’t move. She fell asleep in the armchair, her hand loosely curled around her sister’s.

When she stirred, Nesta’s fingers were weakly squeezing her own. Y/n’s eyes snapped open. Nesta’s blue-gray eyes were barely open, exhaustion evident in every inch of her pale face.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted softly, sitting up immediately, her grip tightening slightly.

“Hey,” Nesta echoed in a raspy voice.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Nesta lied.

Y/n sighed. “I- I know this is probably not a good time, but there’s never going to be a better one. And after last night, I can’t let things stay this way between us. I’m sorry I left you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry that I was cruel to you, that I pushed you away, that I-” Her voice wavered, but forced herself to go on. “That I took the guilt you felt and used it against you. I’m sorry for everything, Nesta.”

Nesta blinked slowly. Then, in a voice quieter than Y/n had ever heard from her, she murmured, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to call you a coward. You’re the bravest person I know. And… I didn’t mean what I said about Father.”

Y/n’s chest constricted, her eyes darting away. “That part is true.” 

“It’s not,” Nesta insisted, shaking her head slightly. She braced her hands on either side of the bed, forcing herself to sit up. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.”

“I could have,” Y/n whispered. “If I used my damned powers, they’d still be here.”

Nesta’s face softened. “You couldn’t. You tried. I saw you.” 

Y/n clenched her jaw. “If I had just trained more with-”

“No,” Nesta cut in firmly. “Even Amren didn’t know how to help you. She tried, remember?”

Y/n took a shaky breath, her throat burning. “I just- can we please not talk about that?” she pleaded. “Can you- can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Nesta let out a breath. “Just promise me we won’t fight again.”

Y/n huffed a small laugh. “I promise I’ll try my best.”

Nesta opened her arms and pulled her sister into a tight embrace. Y/n hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her gently. They held onto each other for a long moment- Mother knows they both needed it. A long, comforting hug.

Now that they were back on good terms, neither Cassian nor the world were ready for them. May the mother help him.

Then Nesta sighed. “I’m going to attempt scrying again.”

Y/n pulled back. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Nesta met her gaze. “I know, but I won’t let fear or the Cauldron stop me.” 

“You do know they’re using you, right?” Y/n’s voice was edged with bitterness.

Nesta exhaled. “I know. But if I don’t do it, Elain will.”

“Maybe she should. Why is it always us?”

Nesta’s brows shot up. “What happened to you? This is Elain we’re talking about.”

Y/n laughed bitterly. “Elain is a traitorous bitch. When she saw how comfortable this life could be, when she saw an opportunity to belong here, she took it and turned on us, her own fucking sisters. And for what?” A bitter smirk curled her lips. “A new family? And two new sisters? How fitting.”

“I mean I’m mad at Elain, but you’re-”

“Furious?” Y/n arched a brow. “Disappointed? Shocked? All of the above?”

“And hurt,” Nesta added carefully.

Y/n’s jaw tightened. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m done trying to protect her and she clearly doesn’t need me anymore.”

Nesta was silent for a moment before nudging her playfully. “You said that about me. And now look at us.” 

“That’s because you’re my favorite sister,” Y/n shot back smoothly.

Nesta laughed quietly, shaking her head. “You really have changed. Back then, you’d never admit that out loud.” 

Y/n shrugged. “Well, now I’m free. Unfortunately, not in the physical sense but you get what I mean.”

“Uh oh,” Nesta muttered. “Does that mean you’re going to be an even colder, heartless bitch to everyone now?”

“Already am.” Y/n flipped her hair with mock pride.

“Not to me though.”

“Shh, don’t expose my weakness,” Y/n joked.

“I see you ladies have made up.” Cassian’s voice broke the moment as he stepped into the room, carrying a tray full of food. His eyes flicked between Nesta and Y/n, his usual smug grin in place. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Y/n glared at him, lips pursing slightly before she stood. “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

Although she did not necessarily like Cassian, she knew he cared about Nesta and wanted to give him a moment with her alone, just this once. Little did she know what fate had in store for them next.

Cassian raised a brow at her, as if surprised by her sudden willingness to give him and Nesta a private moment. But he didn’t question it.

Y/n cast one last glance at her sister before stepping out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

—

“I want you with me,” Nesta said, attempting to convince Y/n to accompany her to the River House for an attempt at scrying.

Y/n sighed heavily, arms crossed over her chest. “Fine, I’ll go. If only to support you while being surrounded by those vultures. Just know I still don’t like this idea.”

Going to the house meant Azriel would be the one taking her. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night- the night he held her back when Nesta was in danger. She hadn’t gone to train with him either. 

A part of her knew he had done it because he cared about her. Because he didn’t want her running into something dangerous. But another part, the louder part of her, knew that he stopped her in case Rhysand decided to take drastic measures. And for that, she was angry at him. 

Just because he was their High Lord didn’t mean Rhys was always right. And it certainly didn’t mean they had to stand by him when he was in the wrong… which lately, he often was.

Azriel was waiting on the roof, his wings folded neatly behind him, his expression unreadable as ever. “Ready to go?” he asked, extending his scarred hand to her.

She hesitated, just for a breath, before gripping it. But not before giving him a sharp, sour look.

As they took off into the brisk air, Azriel held her close, ensuring she wouldn’t slip from his grip as they soared high above Velaris. Halfway through the flight, his low voice cut through the wind.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Can we just fly in silence?” Her voice was flat.

Azriel, however, wasn’t deterred. “But I want to talk to you.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away, refusing to meet his gaze.

Azriel leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear. “You know, when someone is holding your life in their hands, it’s not the best time to provoke them,” he teased.

Y/n arched a brow, pulling back slightly to glare at him. “So you’re going to drop me if I do?” 

Azriel smirked faintly. “Possibly.” 

Her expression didn’t waver. “Then do it, I don’t care.”

He stared at her, clearly unimpressed by her challenge. He only slightly loosened his grip on her, but she didn’t flinch. Somehow, she knew he’d never put her in harm’s way, no matter what she said or did.

“You seem to be struggling. Need some assistance?” she quipped, pressing her palms against his chest in an attempt to push herself away from him. He instantly tightened his hold around her waist, pulling her even closer.

“Are you really this mad at me, you’d rather fall than talk to me?” 

“At least the fall would be more pleasant,” she shot back with a bitter smile.

Azriel let out a quiet exhale, shaking his head. His voice returned to that cool, neutral tone. “I assure you, it would not.”

When they finally flew past the ward line, he winnowed them to the River House. They arrived before Cassian and Nesta, though Azriel could’ve brought all of them at once. Cassian had insisted on flying Nesta, probably for the sake of a few extra quiet moments alone.

Y/n stepped away from Azriel the second they landed, dusting off her clothes as if trying to rid herself of his touch.

Azriel noted it, but said nothing. Instead, he simply walked toward the door. But when he reached the knob, he paused, glancing back to see she hadn’t moved.

“You’re not coming in?”

Her eyes glittered with something cold. “And be alone in the same room with the judgemental pricks you call friends?” she scoffed. “No thanks. I’ll wait for Nesta. She’s the only reason I’m here.” 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair before turning to face her fully. “So… you finally made up?” he asked, already knowing the answer but still attempting to keep the conversation going.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “As if you didn’t know that.” She gestured vaguely at him. “I know your shadows keep you updated on everything. Those little busybodies.” 

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “It is their job… and mine.”

“Yes, yes, Spymaster and all. Blah, blah, blah,” she muttered bitterly.

He hesitated before speaking again, “If this is about what happened the night Nesta-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His lips pressed together, but he didn’t push. Instead, he exhaled through his nose. “Then what can I do to make you talk to me again?”

Y/n arched a brow at him, tilting her head slightly. “Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And maybe I never want to talk to you again.”

Azriel’s expression remained unreadable. “You’re talking to me now.”

She glared at him and turned away, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

A long pause. Then, softer this time, he pleaded, “Come on. Tell me how to make it up to you. Anything you want.”

Her brow rose. “Anything?” 

“Anything,” he confirmed.

“Are you sure?” she mused, a smirk playing at her lips.

He simply nodded.

“I want to get out of the house,” she finally said. “And not to another one of your High Lord’s fancy estates.”

He nodded once more. “Alright. I’ll take you out tonight, but you can’t tell anyone.” 

Her smirk widened into a grin. “Oh? Would you be breaking the rules?” 

Azriel gave her a warning look. “I would. And I’d get in trouble if we’re caught.” 

Her grin turned wicked. But before she could respond, he added, catching the gleam in her eyes and the grin, “Don’t get any ideas. I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It is,” she said. “But I’m still debating what would be more fun; a bit of freedom… or watching you get in trouble.” She tapped a finger to her chin, feigning deep thought.

Azriel studied her for a moment,then shook his head. “You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?” 

She shrugged, that mischievous glint still dancing in her eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes. This female was really going to get him in trouble, and this wasn’t just about today. But she was the only kind of trouble he didn’t mind.

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 19

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Azriel continues to care for Y/n as she recovers from her first cycle. Later, her second power manifests, revealing an ability she never knew she had. 

Word Count: 2.6K.

Just when Y/n had settled down and thought the cramps had finally subdued, another wave of pain shot through her. Right on cue, Azriel returned, another cup of tea in hand. He knocked softly before stepping inside, his shadows slithering along the floor beside him. He found her lying on her side, face half-buried in her pillow, eyes barely open.

He winced internally at the sight of her pale complexion, the exhaustion weighing heavy in her features. “How are you holding up?” 

Y/n let out a slow exhale, shifting slightly as she cracked open an eye to look at him. “I feel like I’ve been stabbed repeatedly…then set on fire.”

Azrie set the tea down beside her bed and crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “I’m assuming that means you want another cup?”

She groaned, rolling onto her back, flinging an arm over her eyes. “I swear, if I have to drink more of that bitter crap-”

“You’ll feel better,” he interrupted smoothly, already reaching for the cup. He handed it to her, and when she hesitated, his brow lifted. “What’s worse? The pain or the tea?”

She sighed heavily, glaring at the cup like it had personally offended her. “They’re equally awful.”

Azriel huffed a quiet chuckle, not letting her see how much it pained him to see her like this. “Drink,” he said, voice firm but not unkind. “Or do you need me to make you?”

She blinked, momentarily taken aback by his words. He never used that tone with her- authoritative yet teasing, like he wasn’t above following through on his threat. Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t reply. He just held her gaze, his expression unreadable, though there was the faintest flick of amusement in his hazel eyes.

Y/n huffed in defeat and snatched the cup from his hands, muttering, “Sadist,” before taking a reluctant sip. The bitter taste made her grimace, but she swallowed it anyway. 

Had it been anyone else speaking that way, she’d have argued and thrown a fit, never yielding or giving them the satisfaction. But since it was him, and she knew he only wanted what’s best for her, and though his tone was authoritative it never came off as disrespectful or forceful, she found herself complying.

Azriel leaned against the edge of the bed, watching her. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

She shot him a sour look. “Remind me to poison your drink next time.”

He let out a silent chuckle. There was silence between them for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you need anything else?”

“A new body,” she muttered through gritted teeth, shifting in bed in a futile attempt to find a more comfortable position.

His lips twitched, but his amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. He hated seeing her like this, yet he forced himself to keep his tone light. “I’ll put in a request.”

—-- 

Y/n had finally managed to get out of bed and shuffle to the armchair by the window. She sat there with a blanket draped over her shoulders, her hands wrapped around another mug of tea Azriel had left for her. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from the oil she’d used earlier.

A knock sounded on her door, but this time it was quieter, more hesitant.

“Come in,” she called, her voice raspier than usual.

Azriel stepped inside, his movements as quiet as his shadows. He carried another small vial in his hand, as if he knew she’d just used the last of the oil. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” she replied bluntly, though there was a flicker of dry amusement in her tone. “But…better. Thanks to the tea. And the oil.”

He nodded, stepping closer and placing the vial on the nightstand. “Good. I brought more, just in case.”

“Of course you did,” she muttered, glancing at him, noticing the way he lingered by the nightstand, his fingers resting lightly on its edge as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave. “I thought I told you to stop spying on me.”

He tilted his head, confused. “I wasn’t.”

She gave him a knowing look. “You’re not subtle, you know? You brought me another vial of oil just when I happened to use the last of the one you gave me.”

He sighed, finally moving from the nightstand and taking a step closer to her. “I wasn’t. A few shadows wanted to stay here and keep an eye on you. They only informed me when you were in pain again.”

“Ah, so that’s why the tea was always on time, huh?” she teased, lifting a brow.

“I promise I wasn’t spying. They only ever informed me when you were experiencing discomfort, that’s all,” he tried to defend himself, his voice still calm but firm.

A faint smile appeared on her lips. “I know. I was just messing with you.”

He exhaled slightly, shoulders relaxing. Sometimes, he didn’t know if she was serious or not. She kept him on his toes more than anyone else ever had, despite his centuries as a spymaster.

—

By the time Y/n was well enough to return to training, she was more than ready to move again, despite still feeling a bit drained.

As she descended the stairs the next morning, she was met with Cassian’s all too cheerful voice. “Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us.”

Y/n scowled. “Bite me, General.”

He grinned. “Gladly. Just say when and where.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t seem fazed. “Feeling better?”

“If by ‘better’ you mean I no longer feel like I’m being stabbed repeatedly, then sure.”

Azriel, already seated at the dining table, lifted his teacup, hiding the amused smile tugging at his lips.

Cassian chuckled, setting his fork down. “Good. Because today, we’re pushing you harder than ever,” he half-joked.

Y/n groaned dramatically. “Why did I come downstairs?”

“You could always go back to bed,” Azriel replied, and Cassian gave him a look.

She turned her attention to Azriel. “And let your brother’s smug ass win? Not a chance.”

—-

After a long time, Y/n had finally gone back down to the library. She was in her usual spot, immersed in a book, when she was interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Wow, haven’t seen Fae power like that before,” Gwyn remarked.

“Hello to you too,” Y/n greeted before following Gwyn’s gaze. There was ice surrounding the armchair where she sat, frost curling off her free hand.

“I-uh, that’s new.” Y/n’s brows knitted together, clearly confused.

“You didn’t know you could do that?” Gwyn asked as she approached slowly.

“No, but after the week I had, nothing surprises me anymore.”

Gwyn tilted her head, her curiosity evident. “What happened?”

Y/n sighed, shifting in her seat, flexing her fingers as she studied the lingering frost. “I got my cycle for the first time since turning, and Mother above, does it hurt like a bitch.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened in realization before she chuckled softly. “Welcome to adulthood.”

Y/n shot her a dry look. “Very funny. How do you endure it?”

Gwyn shrugged, perching herself on the edge of the nearest table. “If I said you’ll get used to it, I’d be lying. You just have to go through it. There are some herbs that can help with the pain, but not completely.”

“Yeah, I tried some tea and oils.” Y/n grimaced, recalling the awful taste of Azriel’s concoction.

“I haven’t seen you around much. And before you say it’s because of your period, it’s been that way even before this week,” Gwyn pointed out, crossing her arms.

Y/n exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’ve been busy training at night. And if I’m being honest with you, training leaves me so sore that taking all these steps to come down here is a pain.”

Gwyn hummed in understanding.“I see.” 

“How have you been?” Y/n found herself asking the young priestess.

“Good actually. I’ve been training too, with Nesta and Cassian.”

Y/n’s lips twitched slightly. “And how are you finding that arrogant prick?”

Gwyn blinked at her choice of words. “Cassian? I- he’s been nothing but good and kind to us.”

Y/n nodded. “Of course he has. I wouldn’t expect any less.” 

“But you don’t like him?” Gwyn asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Y/n smiled slightly. “Let’s just say we have a strange relationship. He gets on my nerves a lot, and the bastard enjoys taunting me.”

Gwyn tilted her head again. “Yet you train with him?” 

“I do, but only basic muscle-building exercises. I believe what Nesta is doing is swordplay, right?”

“Yes. We’re also working on our stances and endurance.” Gwyn then sighed dramatically. “But I think he’s getting annoyed with us after Emerie joined. We… chat a lot.”

Y/n’s brows rose in interest. “Who?”

“Oh, right. I forgot to mention, Emerie is an Illyrian female, a friend of Nesta’s.”

Y/n’s lips parted slightly in genuine intrigue. “An Illyrian female? Huh. I’m yet to meet one.��� Then, something Gwyn said earlier caught her attention. “Wait, you said he’s getting annoyed because you chat a lot?”

“Yes, why?”

Y/n smirked. “Keep doing that. He deserves to be annoyed.” 

“But he’s our mentor,” Gwyn protested half-heartedly.

Y/n snorted. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a giant teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

Gwyn gasped in mock scandal. “You mean the great General of the Night Court isn’t a ruthless warrior?”

Y/n chuckled. “Oh, he is. But he’s also a dramatic little shit, and the more you annoy him, the funnier it gets.”

Gwyn was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Between us, sometimes it is fun to annoy him.”

Y/n gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Ooh, Berdara! I didn’t take you for a naughty female.”

—

Y/n was halfway through her morning exercises with Cassian when he noticed ice beginning to form around her, coating the ground in a thin layer of frost.

His brows knitted together as he gestured to it. “Y/n, are you doing this?” 

She halted mid-movement, following his gaze. A faint crease appeared between her brows. “This is the second time it’s happened. I don’t know why, or how, let alone that I had this power. Her voice was casual, but the confusion laced within was unmistakable.

Cassian’s expression sharpened. “Wait, it happened before? Did you try to summon or control it?”

“No. But this seems different from lightning. According to your brother, it only happens when I’m feeling a strong emotion. But this… I don’t know.” She flexed her fingers, staring at them as if expecting the ice to return on command.

Cassian exhaled through his nose, clearly thinking. “I’ll talk to him and the others. Maybe they’ll know something.”

Her head snapped up at that. “Listen, if you’re gonna tell the Shadowsinger, that’s fine. But do not talk to the others.” Her tone sharpened, a clear warning in her voice. “I don’t want them meddling in my business.”

“They could help y-”

“I said no,” she cut him off, her voice leaving no room for argument.

—-

In the evening, as Cassian and Azriel were eating dinner, Y/n finally joined them. 

“There you are. I was just telling Az about our little problem,” Cassian announced, setting down his fork as he leaned back in his chair.

Azriel, already watching her, turned briefly to Cassian before speaking, cutting her off before she could respond. “I wouldn’t call it a problem.” His voice was low, expression unreadable as always. Then, his sharp gaze flicked back to her. “And this isn’t the second time it’s happened.”

Y/n stilled slightly, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?” she asked, lowering herself into the chair beside Cassian.

Azriel leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he clarified. “I suspected it for a while, but there wasn’t enough evidence.”

“When?” Y/n demanded, her spine stiffening.

Azriel didn’t hesitate. “Every time you used your other power. The first time you truly let go and fell unconscious… When I carried you, you-” His jaw clenched. “You were so cold, I thought you were dead. I didn't give it a thought back then.”

Y/n stared at him, blinking once.

“The second time,” he continued, his voice careful, “when you- with Hybern, the same thing happened. I dismissed it because you were actually dying. Then, one day it snowed in Velaris, and when I returned, I heard you used your powers. And that night when you tried again…” He exhaled, his gaze holding hers. “The temperature in your room dropped-”

Cassian’s head snapped toward his brother. “You practiced in her room?” he cut in, crossing his arms. 

Y/n gave him a deadpan look before turning back to Azriel, who paid Cassian no attention.

“Back then, it was subtle. I don’t know if it happened simply because you got your-” Azriel hesitated briefly, “cycle for the first time and that triggered it, or something else. But it would make sense, seeing as you started manifesting this power after this week.” 

Y/n frowned deeply. “But why ice, though?” 

Cassian shrugged, picking up his fork again. “Maybe your powers are weather related.” 

Azriel, however, disagreed. “I don’t think so. Nesta has similar powers, but hers manifest as silver flames.”

Y/n tapped her fingers against the table, contemplating. “But why do they appear without me even feeling anything now?” 

“Another good question,” Azriel murmured, his hazel eyes sharp with thought.

Cassian cleared his throat. ‘“Y/n I think we should tell the other.” 

Her head snapped toward him. “NO.” Her voice was firm, almost lethal.

Cassian held up his hands in surrender, though his gaze remained steady.

Azriel, however, ignored the tension and simply asked, “could you try to summon it?” 

Y/n exhaled softly, crossing her arms. “Are you going to provoke me again to test a theory?” she asked, remembering all too well how he’d done it with her other power.

Azriel met her gaze evenly. “No. I don’t think it’s needed this time.” His voice remained neutral, but something in the way he said it made her narrow her eyes at him. 

She held his gaze a moment longer before relenting. With a slow inhale, she closed her eyes and focused, reaching inside herself. And just like that, ice formed at her fingertips, spreading across the dining table in a thin layer of frost.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “Huh.”

Azriel remained impassive, but his voice carried a note of quiet satisfaction. “It’s safe to say that you are able to harness ice without needing anything.”

Y/n flexed her fingers, staring at the frost-covered table. “It feels… different. It just came naturally to me. I didn’t even have to try hard.”

Azriel gave a small nod. “Can you try to form a shape in your hand?” 

She exhaled, focusing again. “I can try.” This time, when she opened her palm, an arrow tip made of ice rested against her skin.

Azriel studied it before nodding slightly. “And now you can make weapons out of ice. Congratulations.” His tone remained neutral, yet something in his tone made it feel like a quiet acknowledgment- an unspoken approval.

Y/n rolled the arrow between her fingers, watching the frost glisten before letting it melt away. A small, satisfied smile flickered on her. “It feels good to finally have control over something,” she admitted.

Cassian smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

Y/n arched a brow. “Oh, you should've learned that a long time ago.”

Azriel huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for his tea. But beneath the amusement, he knew this was only the beginning.

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Lovers' Day

A/N: This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would celebrate Valentine's Day with their S/O. Enjoy!

Azriel

Azriel didn’t need words to show love. He never had. 

He let his actions speak for him, the way he always seemed to be there, anticipating your needs before you voiced them.

So when you woke up on Lovers’ morning, you didn;t think much of it. It was just another day. Azriel never made a fuss about things like this, and honestly, you had completely forgotten.

But Azriel, well, he never forgot anything when it came to you. And this time, he had planned ahead, with a little help from Rhys.

A week prior, Rhysand had informed you about an incoming mission. A simple infiltration, something requiring subtlety and mingling. The only strange thing was that Rhys had specifically told you to wear something nice, to blend in. It had seemed odd at the time, but you had dismissed it and agreed without question. 

Now, standing on the roof of the House of Wind, you found Azriel waiting for you, arms crossed, face unreadable. But instead of his usual Illyrian leathers, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

You blinked. “Oh, you’re also going to blend in tonight? Not staying in the Shadows as always?” 

His lips twitched slightly, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. “Something like that.” 

There was a subtle smile tugging at his lips, but he said nothing more as he extended a hand to you. You took it gladly, intertwining your fingers with his scared ones.

The familiar pull of winnowing wrapped around you, and when the world settled again, you found yourself atop one of the highest rooftops in Velaris. The city stretched out below like a sea of stars, the Sidra reflecting the soft glow of faelights. 

And in front of you-

A single candlelit table, dinner spread out with  precision only he could manage. Your favorite cuisine, appetizers, carefully arranged, two glasses of Rhysand’s most expensive wine waiting to be poured.

But that wasn’t all. On the ground beside the table lay a large, thick blanket, with two more folded ones resting at the side. A woven basket sat nearby, promising more hidden surprises.

You turned to face him, and he was already watching you standing so close his hands easily found your waist. He still hadn’t spoken much, letting the weight of the moment settle between you.

“Az…” Your voice was soft, uncertain. “What’s this?”

His thumb brushed over your hip, his gaze never leaving yours. “Do you like it?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You looked at the table again, at the small details that spoke volumes, how much he had thought about this, how much he knew you. “Th- this is for me?” Your brows furrowed in confusion as your mind caught up. “I thought we were supposed to be- wait, what about the mission?”

He shook his head, a small secretive smile playing on his lips. “There’s no mission, baby.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “Then what about Rhy- Oh. Oh!” You turned back to him, realization dawning. “You planned this with him, didn’t you?”

His lips parted slightly, watching the way your face lit up in understanding. He nodded, his smile growing when he saw yours. “I wanted to do something for you.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. Without thinking, you closed the small space between you, stepping onto your toes as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s perfect,” you whispered against him.

His shadows curled around your wrist, a silent response, as he intertwined his fingers with your and led you toward the table. 

You glanced toward the blankets, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “What’re those for?” 

Azriel pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before settling in across from you. “I thought we could watch the stars together after dinner,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “The blankets are just in case it gets cold.”

You smiled, warmth radiating through you, not from the candlelight or the wine, but from the male sitting in front of you, the one who loved you in the quietest, most breathtaking ways.

Cassian

Cassian wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, or throwing surprises. He was too impatient for that. 

So on Lovers’ Day, he burst into your room at the crack of dawn, grinning like a fool. “I challenge you,” he announced.

You groaned, barely awake, propping yourself up on your elbows as you blinked blearily at him. “Cassian,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes, “What in the Mother’s name are you on about? A challenge to what?” 

He folded his arms over his broad chest, expression smug. “An arm-wrestling match.”

You snorted. “Oh?” You raised a brow, an amused smile curving your lips. “Or…you could just tell me what you want, since we both know that you’d win.”

His grin widened as he sank onto the edge of the bed, looming over you. “A kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “You get kisses every day, Cass. Come on, tell me what you really want.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “I want to take you out for breakfast.” His fingers brushed along your arm, making your skin prickle. “And then, I have a little gift for you.” His grin turned downright wicked as he added, “As for my gift…I want you.” 

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, low, certain, possessive. But before you could respond, he continued, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation build. “Lying in bed tonight,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “with nothing on but a ribbon…while you wait for me.”

Your jaw dropped. Then, without hesitation, you grabbed the nearest pillow and  threw it at him. Cassian caught it with ease, laughing as he tackled you onto the mattress, pinning you beneath him. His hands pressed into the sheets beside your head. “Happy Lovers’ Day, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing over the curve of your neck. 

And judging by the way his body pressed against yours, you knew he wasn’t going to let you leave this bed anytime soon.

Rhysand

Rhysand had been smirking all evening.

He had something planned. He always did, but you weren’t sure what, and that was what made you suspicious.

The two of you sat comfortably in the living room, a deck of cards between you, glasses of expensive wine half-full. Rhys dealt the next round, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief.

“If you win,” he mused, “I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you desire.”

You arched a brow. “And if you win?”

His smirk widened. “You’ll have to find out.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined to beat him at his own game. But always, Rhys played dirty. Lingering touches, whispered words in your mind, distractions that made your thoughts fog over.

When he laid down his winning hand, you groaned, glaring at him. “Fine. What do you want?”

Rhys leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear, his voice a slow, sinful purr. “You. Every second of tonight, in whatever way I please.”

Your heart skipped a beat, throat tightening. Not that you were complaining. Or that he didn’t already have you however he pleased often. You swallowed hard, shrugging in what you hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “Fine.”

Before you could blink, darkness surrounded you, and the next thing you knew, you were standing on a balcony overlooking Velaris, the city glowing beneath the moonlight. Rhys stood behind you, his hands sliding to your waist as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “Open your eyes.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the anticipation. Rhys always found a way to surprise you, ways to keep you on your toes. And you never knew whether the night would be one of slow seduction or raw passion.

Your lips parted in surprise as you took in the sight before you. “Oh.”

The bastard smirked. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

You turned to him, mock glaring. “In my defense, you were insinuating something else.”

“You have a dirty mind, darling,” he teased, his grin widening as your glare deepened. 

Before you could retort, he leaned down again, his voice brushing against your skin like silk. “Don’t worry, you weren’t wrong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before lowering his lips to your ear once more, drawing out every word, slow and deliberate. “But first, dinner.” A pause, then, just as your breath caught- “I’m feeding you before I feast on you.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks as you smacked his chest. “Rhys!”

He chuckled, catching your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Come on, darling,” he murmured, tugging you inside.

Lucien

Lucien was a hopeless romantic. He spoiled you every day and every night. But today, he was determined to spoil you even more. 

You woke to the softest of touches, featherlight kisses pressed to your face, the warmth of his lips trailing along your jaw. A gentle hum rumbled in his chest, the only indication of his presence as he continued his slow, unhurried worship.

It was only when you stirred, a sleepy murmur escaping your lips, that he finally spoke, his voice low and affectionate. 

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned softly, your voice husky with sleep. “Mm, morning.”

Lucien chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up. “Come on, wake up. I’ve planned a lot today, starting with breakfast.”

When you finally opened, you saw a beautifully arranged tray sitting on the bedside table. Your favorite fruits and pastries, along with a delicate teapot filled with your preferred brew Everything meticulously placed, because of course Lucien would make sure the presentation was just as perfect as the taste. 

“Lucien,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the effort he had put into this. “You shouldn’t have.”

He only smiled, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “Of course, I should. You deserve nothing less.”

After breakfast, he led you outside, winnowing the two of you to the Dawn Court.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the golden hues of the rising sun reflecting off the crystal clear lakes, soft melodies of birdsong filling the air. Everything about the Dawn Court was serene, ethereal, and today, he had planned the most romantic day imaginable.

The day unfolded like a dream. Horseback riding through rolling meadows, Lucien effortlessly guiding the reigns with one hand while keeping you steady with the other. Then, a private boat ride on the lake, where he reclined lazily, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand trailing absentmindedly through the water as you talked about everything and nothing at all.

As the day faded into twilight, Lucien winnowed you both to a quiet hilltop overlooking the sunset. The sky was a masterpiece of oranges and violets, the cool breeze tangling your hair as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close against his chest. His chin rested atop your head, his heartbeat steady against your back.

That night, after winnowing back home, he sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled a folded letter from his pocket. His amber eye flickered with emotion as he met your gaze. “I wrote this before we were together,” he admitted, handing it to you. “I never had the courage to send it.”

You carefully unfolded the paper, your breath catching as you read the words, his confession, his longing, the love he had harbored in silence for so long. The ink was slightly smudged, as if he had gone over the words countless times, his heart laid bare on the page.

When you finished, your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Lucien…”

But before you could say anything more, he reached for another paper,  his lips quirking into a shy smile. “That was then. But now…” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. 

And then, he recited a poem. A poem he had written just for you. His voice was deep, smooth, steady, filled with adoration and reverence. Every line a promise, every syllable laced with love, By the time he finished, your heart was a mess of warmth and something else. You didn’t hesitate before launching yourself into his arms, kissing him deeply, hungrily, whispering his name like a vow.  Lucien chuckled against your lips, holding you tight, as if he never planned to let go.

“You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered, and you knew, he meant every word.

Eris

Eris did not do romance. 

He scoffed at the very idea of Lovers’ Day, calling it foolish, a ridiculous excuse for people to parade their affection like desperate fools. 

And yet- he still sent for you.

Later that evening, you arrive at your usual meeting point between your two courts. Eris was already there, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his face carefully impassive.

He was fiddling with something- a small box, rolling it between his fingers.

 When he saw you approaching, he straightened forcing himself into stillness, his voice carefully nonchalant. “You came.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said it was urgent. What’s wrong this time?” 

His smirk was slow, calculated. “It was urgent. I needed to see you.” He pushed off the tree, approaching you with lazy, confident steps, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed something deeper. He stopped just in front of you, holding out the small box. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You raised a brow but took it anyway, fingers brushing over the carefully wrapped edges. “I thought you didn’t believe in this holiday?”

He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t. I just…” His jaw ticked as he glanced away. “Wanted to get you something.”

A smirk curled on your lips. “Ah, and it just happens to be on this specific day?”

His eyes snapped back to you, sharp as embers. “Don’t push your luck.” 

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You really called me all the way here for this? You’re starting to make a habit out of it. Next time, I might not-”

You didn’t get to finish the sentence. Because in a single, swift movement, Eris closed the distance, grasped your face, and crashed his lips against yours.

The heat of him was blistering, unbearable- yet you couldn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. 

The kiss was measured yet scorching, each calculated movement knocking the breath from your lungs. His mouth moved with slow precision, as if he were branding himself into you, as if he hated how much he wanted this but couldn’t stop himself.

When he finally pulled back, you smirked against his lips, murmuring, “Next time, lead with that.”

His grip tightened slightly on your chin, his thumb brushing over your jaw in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, before tilting your head up and kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier, as if he were making damn sure you’d never forget the way he tasted- like fire and temptation, like something dangerous you’d willingly burn for.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 18

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Azriel and Y/n engage in an intense sparring session. Later, she experiences her first period since turning, with Azriel and Cassian stepping in to help.

Warnings: mild mention of blood and slight violence.

Word Count: 4.3 K

That night, Azriel stood in the middle of the fighting ring, his wings tucked neatly behind him, when Y/n approached him, dressed in Illyrian leathers. Fortunately, he had kept his shirt on this time. Otherwise, she doubted she’d be able to focus on their training. Their gazes met briefly as they greeted each other before beginning basic stretches in silence. 

Azriel’s sharp hazel eyes observed her intently, noting the fluidity in her movements. When they finished, they took their fighting positions. The tension in the air was palpable, an unspoken challenge exchanged between them.

“Want me to say a few words before we start?” Azriel asked, his tone neutral but with a hint of teasing.

“Depends on these words,” Y/n quipped, a brow raised.

“I don’t know how you trained back in the mortal lands or which techniques you learned, so I’ll just say this: remember, it’s about balance and control. Don’t let your emotions dictate your actions.”

“Are you worried lightning is going to erupt from me?” she shot back, smirking faintly.

“No,” he replied smoothly. “But emotions tend to get the best of people when sparring. Want to strike first?”

“I’d rather if you did.”

 He nodded before they began sparring lightly. Azriel’s movements were smooth and controlled, while Y/n’s were sharp and precise. Each strike and block was executed with a blend of aggression and restraint, their bodies moving in a synchronized dance of combat.

“You’re holding back,” Y/n said between breaths, her voice laced with both challenge and frustration.

“You want me to go harder?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his lips curving in the faintest of smiles.

“I heard training with you is ruthless. I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“As you wish.” Azriel lunged forward, striking rapidly. Y/n deflected, her movements quick but not quick enough to completely avoid his calculated blows. Their bodies moved so close at times their breaths mingled. When Y/n attempted to sweep his legs, Azriel anticipated it and countered, knocking her off balance.

“Still want me to go further?” he asked, extending his hand to help her up.

“I know you haven’t even started,” she replied, taking his hand. 

As she jumped to her feet, she inadvertently closed the distance between them, their faces mere inches apart. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. Azriel’s shadows coiled lazily around his neck as his hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse. 

Y/n’s eyes flickered for a split second to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Come on, Shadowsinger, don’t be afraid to show me what you’ve got.”

He released her wrist with deliberate slowness, stepping back. “Afraid?” he chuckled, amusement in his voice as he spoke, “Alright. Let’s go again.”

They resumed sparring, but with every movement, every touch, their unspoken attraction simmered just beneath the surface. Although Y/n’s strikes became more aggressive, there was a softness in her gaze that belied her sharp moves. At one point, Azriel managed to pin her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. They paused, both breathing heavily as their hearts pounded. 

“You’re distracting me,” he muttered, his tone almost accusing.

“Is that what you tell your opponents on the battlefield?” she asked, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I wouldn’t say anything. They'd already be dead” he said coolly with confidence.

“Then how is it that you still haven’t managed to land a single blow?” 

Before he could speak, Y/n twisted out of his hold, catching him off guard and flipping him onto the ground. She straddled him, pinning his wrists above his head. He could’ve easily broken free, but something held him back- something about the fire in her eyes, the way her chest heaved with exertion.

“Guess I should’ve seen that coming,” he grinned up at her, his tone both impressed and amused.

Frustrated by his restraint, she punched him somewhat harder than necessary in the gut before standing, earning a groan from him.

Although this was a nice change, one she might have enjoyed under different circumstances, she wanted the pain, not the pleasure.

Azriel propped himself up on his elbows as she stood over him. The blow had clearly taken him by surprise, but there was also a spark of something else in his eyes- something that made her heart skip a beat.

He lifted his hand, silently asking for her help to get up. Without a second thought, she grasped it. But the second she did, he moved, swiftly and decisively, reversing their positions in one seamless motion. A startled gasp escaped her lips as her back met the floor in a controlled, almost gentle landing, his grip steady, ensuring she barely felt the impact. His weight pressed just enough to keep her pinned, his body hovering over hers, his shadows coiling lazily in the air between them. 

“That’s cheating,” she protested, eyes narrowing at him as she swallowed hard.

“Tell that to your opponents on the battlefield,” Azriel murmured, throwing her own words back at her.

“I wouldn’t extend my hand to my enemy,” she shot back, “but I’d drive a knife through their head.” She managed to wriggle one arm free, just enough to grab Truth-teller, the dark blade sheathed at his side, and pointed it at his throat.

“That’s cheating,” he repeated her words back to her again, a grin spreading across his lips. 

Y/n lingered, her grip on the dagger firm. She nudged the blade closer to his skin, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Azriel’s gaze remained steady, unfazed, as if he was daring her to go further. “Do you enjoy the sight of blood?” he asked, shadows curling subtly around his shoulders.

“You have no idea,” she murmured teasingly.

In one swift movement, Azriel grabbed her wrist, disarming her and tossing the blade across the floor. However, she didn’t give him time to think; she kneed him sharply in the abdomen, forcing him to move just enough for her to slip out from under him and jump to her feet again.

“I’m starting to think you’re not as strong as everyone says you are,” she taunted, breathing heavily.

Azriel’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening as a grin curved his lips. “Fine, you want to play? Let’s play.” He got back into his fighting stance, a determined glint in his eyes. He’d warned her but she wanted violence.” That was just a warm-up.”

He moved swiftly, striking with a quick jab aimed at her midsection. Y/n blocked it but felt the force of his strength reverberate through her arms. She countered with a kick to his thigh, which landed solidly, eliciting a grunt from Azriel. But he was relentless, retaliating with a series of rapid punches, one of which finally connected with her shoulder and knocked her off balance. She staggered back, the impact making her wince slightly. That was going to leave a bruise. 

Azriel immediately hesitated. He’d never hit a female before, and he sure as hell hadn’t meant to strike her that hard. His eyes flickered with worry and fear, a rare flash of uncertainty breaking through his usal control. And she caught it. Saw it.

She rolled her shoulder, masking the ache with a smirk. “Not bad, but you’ll have to do better than that. I’m not convinced yet.” The words weren’t just a taunt. They were meant for him. A silent reassurance. A reminder that she could take it. That she wasn’t fragile. That she was alright. 

She lunged at him, landing a few hits that barely fazed him. But she was beginning to tire; the constant barrage of blocks and counterattacks were wearing her down. Azriel, on the other hand, seemed to have a boundless well of stamina. She could feel the exhaustion creeping into her muscles, slowing her movements.

She tried to go for his rib, but he was faster and dodged every strike with ease. Then, in one swift maneuver, he landed a punch that sent her sprawling to the ground. Y/n hit the mat hard, the force knocking the breath from her lungs.

For a moment, she lay there, blinking up at the night sky, her chest rising and falling as she fought to gather her strength. 

Azriel flinched as soon as his punch hit its mark. Regret flashed across his face. He was at her side in an instant, about to extend his hand, but before he could, she pushed herself up quickly, shaking off the pain. Determination burned in her eyes, outshining the exhaustion laced in her voice.. “Is that all you’ve got?” 

His jaw tightened. He knew he’d hurt her, and he hated himself for it. But the way she got back up, the fire in her gaze, it made it easier to swallow down the self-loathing. He forced himself to stay composed. “Not even close.”

After an hour, they were circling each other again, both showing signs of the intense fight, her more than him, given that she lacked his years of practice, his raw strength. But she was still standing, still fighting.

Azriel moved in with a flurry of punches, each one landing solidly, forcing her further anf further back. She tried to block and counter, but his strength and speed overwhelmed her. Then, one particularly hard, unintended punch sent her reeling. She dropped to one knee, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.

Azriel stilled, his expression shifting. “You’ve had enough yet?” His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern beneath it. 

He extended his hand to her, which she gladly took, gripping hard, using his strength to pull herself up.

Teeth gritted, she exhaled through the burn in her limbs. “Never,” she rasped, though her voice was hoarse, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

They resumed circling each other, but Azriel could see it, the way her limbs trembled slightly, the faint hitch in her breath, the way she forced herself to keep going despite her body screaming at her to stop. She was pushing herself too far. 

So he eased up again, letting her block the weak strikes he threw her way, knowing she wouldn’t stop otherwise. But she wasn’t blind. 

After some time, he knew she wouldn’t stop, so he made a decision. If she wanted to keep going, he wasn’t going to let her land a single blow. She was already exhausted, her movements slowing, her breath coming in sharp bursts, She wouldn’t last much longer.

“Want to stop?” he asked, stepping back to give her a moment to recover. 

She shook her head, unable to speak, swatting at the air in front of her, a feeble attempt to show she wasn’t done. But her punches were losing strength, her swings clumsy with fatigue. Azriel barely had to move to dodge them now.

“You’re going easy on me again,” she bit out, frustration tightening her features, her voice raw with exertion. Despite everything, the ache in very muscle, the bruises already forming, she refused to yield. 

Azriel exhaled quietly, observing her determined eyes. She wasn’t going to back down. No matter how exhausted, no matter how much her body protested, she would keep going until she collapsed.

He finally spoke again,  his voice firm but gentle. “You’ve had enough.”A beat of silence. “I’m sure the blows I landed are going to leave bruises all over your body. We can continue this another time.”

“Fine,” she relented, finally bending over, hands braced on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt utterly drained, her muscles and lungs burning with exhaustion. 

Azriel approached her with a cup of water, offering it to her. “Drink up,” he said, a faint smile softening his usually stoic expression. “You need to stay hydrated.”

Y/n took the cup, gulping the water down in one swift motion.

“Are you alright?” he asked, watching her closely, arms crossed.

“Never better,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual edge.

Azriel chuckled softly. “You know, if this is how you fight on your first day, I wonder what you have in store for me when you build up your muscles and stamina.”

“Just wait and see,” she replied, though the thought of more intense training sessions made her wince inwardly.

The next morning, every muscle in her body protested as she dragged herself to the dining room. Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel were already there, eating breakfast. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” Cassian greeted and she nodded. He gave her a curious look, noticing her slow movement and discomfort.. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just sore” she replied, wincing slightly as she took a seat. Azriel glanced at her, a knowing look passing over his face before he returned to his cup of tea.

“Why? We haven't practiced for two days,” Cassian noted, confused.

“I may have practiced without you,” Y/n said, keeping her eyes on her plate. She wasn’t about to  tell him she’d been training with Azriel, so that one day she might defeat him. No, she did not want him to be ready for her. No need to give him ideas- or any advantage.

Cassian placed a hand over his chest in mock offense.“I feel hurt.”

“Well, get over it,” she retorted, shrugging.

Azriel let out a quiet chuckle, drawing Cassian’s attention. His brows knitted as he zeroed in on something. “What happened to you?” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed in confusion before Cassian clarified, “There’s a cut on your throat.”

Azriel only shrugged. “It’s nothing-”

“Don’t you always have cuts and bruises all over your body?” Y/n interrupted, quickly deflecting attention. “I assumed as warriors, you did.”

Cassian supposed they did, but squinted at her, not understanding her sudden interference. Suspicion crept into his expression. Unless-

—-

Y/n was seated in her armchair, the fresh night breeze playing with the loosened strands of her braid, moonlight casting a soft glow around her as she knitted a scarf. A knock sounded at her door. She knew who it was and just hoped he wouldn’t ask her to train tonight. 

Sighing, she took a deep breath before opening the door.

Azriel stood there, his shadows subtly shifting behind him. “You’re awake?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “Were you hoping I wasn’t?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “No- I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be here to train with you for the next few days.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You’re not running away from me, are you?”

Another quiet chuckle. “No. I wouldn’t dream about it. Something came up.”

Y/n gave him a knowing look. “I understand. Happy spying.” 

“Good luck with Cass.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why?”

Azriel smirked. “I might have heard he’s going to give you a hard time tomorrow.”

She groaned. “That arrogant asshole.”

His smirk widened slightly. “I’ll see you around.”

—-

Y/n gritted her teeth as she dropped to one knee, panting heavily. “Alright, I admit, I need to work on my stamina, but you don’t have to go this hard on me.” 

Cassian barely looked winded. He smirked, stretching his arms. “We haven’t even started yet.”

She scowled as he effortlessly demonstrated another set of grueling exercises.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You’re a big, muscled warrior and this is nothing to you… showoff.” She sneered, standing up with a groan.

Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying her struggle. “I’m glad you think so.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Are you punishing me for skipping yesterday’s exercises?”

Cassian’s smirk turned wicked. “Possibly.”

Suspicion flickered across her face. “Wait… don’t tell me it’s because I actually trained without you.”

“I’ll stop this torture if you agree to spar with me once.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “Ah, so you can beat my ass and never let me hear the end of it? No thanks.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

She snorted. “That’s even worse. But mark my words, the day I spar with you, I’m going to defeat you.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Confidence, I like that.”

“And your arrogance is going to be the reason you will lose to me.” She winked at him.

He barked out a laugh. “We’ll see.”

—

“How’s Cassian treating you?” Azriel asked, watching her carefully.

Y/n wiped the sweat from her brow. “He’s being the usual prick he is.”

His lips twitched. “I see. But at least your stamina is better. You lasted longer than last time.” 

She shot him a glare.

“Can I ask you something without you getting defensive?”

She hesitated. “Depends on the question.”

Azriel shrugged. “Then never mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Shoot.”

“What happened between you and Nesta?”

Her body stiffened slightly. “Well, that’s an unexpected question. Why do you ask?”

He raised a brow. “You’re getting defensive.”

She sighed heavily. “We had a fight.”

“And? This isn’t the first time you’ve fought with your sisters.”

She swallowed, looking away. “I said some mean things to her that I didn’t mean. I have this… toxic trait where I use the other person’s insecurities and weaknesses against them, just to push them away. I walked away from her when she needed me the most.” Guilt weighed heavily in her voice.

Azriel studied her, his expression unreadable. “Did you tell her that?” 

Y/n just gave him a look that clearly said, what do you think?

“You could try talking to her soon,” he said after a moment. “You live in the same house now, and I believe she misses you. She still cares about you.”

Her jaw tightened. “I know.”

He took a step closer. “Then why?”

She exhaled slowly. “It’s better this way.”

His gaze darkened slightly. “Do you enjoy making yourself suffer?”

Y/n turned to him, an almost bitter smirk forming. “You’re talking too much, Shadowsinger. Get back in position.”

Azriel chuckled softly. “So you haven’t had enough of me kicking your ass?”

She rolled her shoulders, stepping back into a defensive stance. “You wish.”

—

The next morning, Y/n woke up to an unbearable pain radiating through her abdomen. She barely managed to stumble into her bathing chamber before realizing she had just gotten her period. 

She had forgotten about all this. Feyre told her about how painful it would be, but she hadn’t experienced it when her sisters had, so she assumed she never would, since it had been over a year since she’d turned. But she was wrong. She didn’t know how and why it happened or rather why it didn’t come earlier. Why now? Was it hormones? Stress? Anxiety? Or was it something else- something to do with being Cauldron-made? She didn’t know.

When she didn’t appear for practice, Cassian went to find her. 

“Go away, I’m not feeling well,” she muttered from behind the door.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked.

Y/n gritted her teeth, gripping her sheets so hard, her knuckles turned while. “Just leave, please.” She could barely move, let alone walk downstairs for food, a warm compress, or anything that might ease the pain. 

Cassian hesitated. “I’m coming in.” 

Before she could protest, the door opened, and Cassian was at her side in an instant when he saw the state she was in. His expression shifted to concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She groaned, curling further into herself. “I can’t- it’s too much.”

Cassian crouched beside her, brows furrowed. “What is?”

“The pain.” Her voice was strained.  “I just got my period for the first time- my fae period.”

Cassian blinked. “Oh? Oh! I- uh- I can get Feyre. She’ll know what to do.”

“NO!”

Cassian held up his hands. “Okay, okay! What do you need?”

“Something for the fucking pain.”

Cassian was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. She did not want Feyre’s help, and he wasn’t exactly an expert in this department. The only other female he could think of was Mor, and he was pretty sure Y/n wouldn’t want her involved either. He didn’t know whether he should go to Feyre for advice despite her clear refusal, or stay and try to figure something himself.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Stay here. I’ll try to find something.”

She glared at him. “Does it look like I can go anywhere?”

Cassian winced. “Sorry.”

Luckily, he found Azriel in the hallway. After a brief exchange, they decided that Azriel would talk to Feyre, while Cassian fetched a warm compress.

When Cassian returned, Y/n was curled up tightly, arms wrapped around herself.

“I got you this. I hope it helps.” He handed her the compress, his face full of sympathy. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

Y/n groaned. “You lucky bastards. How do your females endure this?”

Cassian shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Y/n huffed. “Add this to the list of reasons I hate Fae-kind.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No. Just go.”

“Alright, if you need anything just shout, I’ll be down the hall.”

Azriel returned not long after, knocking softly on her door before stepping inside. He was holding a steaming cup in one hand and a small glass vial in the other. Feyre had insisted on coming with him. She had tried, more than once, but Azriel stood firm. He’d stood against his High Lady and told her that Y/n didn’t wish to see her. Feyre had reluctantly stopped pushing, knowing he was right. Instead, she gave him instructions and some ingredients before letting him go.

“Hey,” his voice was gentler than usual as he approached her bedside. “Drink this. It’ll help with the cramps.”

Y/n eyes the cup suspiciously. “What is it, and how do you know?” 

But before he could answer, she grabbed the cup and took a cautious sip, then immediately grimaced. “Ugh. That’s awful.”

Azriel smiled slightly. “It’s chamomile, ginger, a bit of willow bark, and other herbs. Feyre said it would ease your pain.”

Her entire body tensed at the mention of her sister. “You talked to Feyre?” Even through pain, her eyes darkened with irritation.

Azriel exhaled, unfazed by her glare. “What else was I supposed to do? Cassian and I aren’t exactly experts on this.”

She scowled but reluctantly took another sip. “Fine, I got it. You can leave now.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he held up the small vial. “I’m supposed to rub this between my palms and massage your lower abdomen.” 

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s lavender oil mixed with other herbs. It’ll relax the muscles and help relieve the pain.”

She blinked, staring at the vial, then at him, as if trying to determine if he was serious. “I can do it on my own,” she muttered, reaching for it.

He hesitated for a bear before handing it to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She waved him off, her voice clipped. “You can leave now. Thank you.”

He nodded but lingered for a moment. “When the effects start to wear off, I’ll bring you another cup of tea.”

Y/n didn’t respond, already focused on the vial in her hand. As the door closed behind him, she let out a slow breath, her body still wracked with discomfort.

That day and the next few days were absolute hell, but at least the tea Azriel prepared for her helped a little.

His knock became a regular sound. Always soft, always followed by his quiet presence. He didn’t hover too much, but he was there when it counted, slipping into the room with another mug of tea or a fresh compress as if he’d memorized when she needed them most. He didn’t ask unnecessary questions, didn’t try to push her into talking, but his gaze was always watchful, always reading her in ways that made her feel exposed.

“Hey,” he said gently, knocking again on the third morning before stepping inside with another steaming cup. His shadows curled faintly around him before extending to her.

She glanced at him from her spot on the bed, her face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “I’m not dying.” 

She hated asking for help, hated relying on someone else, hated being taken care of. She wasn’t used to any of it, and she sure as hell didn’t want anyone, especially him to see her as weak. But the cramps were too much for her to even think about leaving the bed.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, studying her with those piercing hazel eyes. “You sure about that?” His tone was light, laced with dry humor, as he set the tea down on the nightstand.

She managed a faint glare, though it was undermined by the way her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the cup. “I’m sure.” The bitter taste made her grimace, but she forced it down, knowing it was helping even if she didn’t want to admit it.

Azriel pulled the armchair from the corner and settled into it with a quiet sigh, his wings shifting as he leaned back.

She tried to sit up, watching him warily. “What are you doing? I don’t need you to babysit me, you know.”

“I’m not babysitting.” His voice was calm, unwavering. “I’m just… making sure you’re not suffering alone.”

She  scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Is that what my sister told you to say?”

He held her gaze, his expression unreadable. “No. It’s what I decided.”

Something in his tone made her pause, her chest tightening slightly. Damn him. She hated how easily he could disarm her, how his presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort. She hated that she didn’t hate it as much as she knew she should.

She exhaled, closing her eyes again. “Well, congratulations, Shadowsinger. Mission accomplished.” Her voice was edged with dry amusement. “I’m still suffering, but I’m not alone.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, though his chest twisted at the sight of her in pain. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345 @fan-of-many-bands @freefalls06-blog @yesiamthatwierd @ms-dont-care

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

I love how you write y/n‘s character.

She’s angry, prideful, caring, intelligent…

And the way she interacts with her family 🤌🏻 especially with Feyre after the whole shitshow. I am the same in her regard and cut people off or ignore them after they’ve done similar shit. Thank you for representing people like us 😂

Aww, thank you! 💜 I’m so glad that Y/n’s personality and journey so far resonate with you. It really means a lot to know that her ‘complicated’ emotions feel relatable. I just hope you keep feeling that way in the future when she’s being really ‘cold’ or ‘difficult’ to someone who might not actually deserve it…*cough* *cough*.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 17

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n and Nesta’s presence is required at the River House, where two important announcements are made. This time, Y/n decides to not interfere with the dangerous choices her sisters are making. Later, a sparring session between Azriel and Cassian sparks an idea in Y/n.

WC: 2.8K.

There were two kinds of people after a fight. Those who let everything out before exhaustion took over and those who resorted to… other ways. After Elain’s visit, Y/n and Nesta were clearly upset. While Azriel stayed and listened to Y/n pour her heart out, unmoving as she tried to make him leave, Nesta and Cassian chose to resolve their feelings through other, more physical means, further complicating their relationship instead of resolving it.

At breakfast, Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were seated at the dining table when Y/n entered. Today, she had no energy at all. She didn’t care that Nesta was in the room and just took a seat silently. Azriel was mid-question when she sat down. “Did something happen that I, as your chaperone, should know about?”

Y/n glanced between her sister and Cassian, and then it hit her. Cassian’s scent still carried traces of arousal. It was no secret that he was pinning after Nesta, but today something had shifted.

Azriel informed them that the three of them were to head to the River House. He hadn’t told Y/n that night before- granted, it hadn’t been the right moment, but still, this sudden summons felt overwhelming. She was not ready to face her family again, especially not after yesterday.

“Is it necessary?” Y/n asked, trying not to think about how vulnerable she’d been in front of Azriel less than a day ago. 

“Yes. Rhys requires everyone there.”

When they arrived, everyone was already gathered, except for Elain and Mor. Cassian went to kiss Feyre’s cheek, but a shield encased her. 

Azriel updated them on what he’d discovered. The mortal queen, Briallyn- the one who’d emerged old and cruel after leaping into the Cauldron, the one who wanted Y/n and Nesta dead, was after the Dread Trove: the three powerful, dark objects capable of granting their wielder unparalleled power. Y/n had never bothered to learn her name until today. 

Briallyn’s pursuit of the Trove signaled that the threat of war was once again looming. Ever since Feyre had been turned Fae, it felt as though war and ruin constantly lurked on the horizon. Y/n was sick of it- all of it.

Y/n remained silent throughout the meeting, while Nesta asked questions about these objects. 

When they discussed warning the other Courts, they decided against it. Despite claiming to want peace, they never acted like it. Y/n wondered how they’d feel if another court came across this information and withheld it from them. 

Their plan was to track the three objects now and then Elain appeared, peering in from the doorway. “Use me,” she said. 

Nesta shot to her feet, instantly protesting. Y/n remained silent. If Elain wanted to risk herself, then so be it. She wasn’t going to meddle in their lives anymore. 

The two sisters argued until Amren suggested Nesta search for it instead. Y/n wondered if that was all a trap to get her or Nesta to do their dirty work, sparing Elain in the process. The two sisters exchanged some hurtful words and Y/n remained standing like a stone, even when Nesta glanced at her multiple times, a silent plea for help.

“It wasn’t an easy choice for me to ask Elain to endanger herself like that,” Feyre admitted. 

And there it was, she might not have said it directly, but everyone would prefer if Y/n or Nesta endangered themselves instead of Elain.

“Why can’t you do it? You’re made and you have all this magic,” Nesta snapped. 

Feyre exchanged a look with Rhys before answering. “I can’t risk it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” Feyre broke the news. 

So it was true. For her new family, she’d forsake the old- or so Y/n thought.

Everyone rushed to congratulate the couple. Even Nesta muttered a quiet “Congratulations.” But Y/n was still standing there, almost forgotten as she was lost in her own thoughts. The room blurred around her as they discussed the Trove again, and Nesta finally agreed to help.

Rhys had wanted to discuss some things with Cassian and Azriel before they left, so Y/n had managed to slip off the back door quietly. Moments later, Feyre found her.

“Here you are.” Feyre’s voice was cautious as she stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “I was looking for you. You didn’t say anything back there, I thought you’d-”

“You are always expecting things from me,” Y/n spun around to face her, eyes flashing. “Sorry to disappoint.” Her words snapped through the air like a whip.

Feyre flinched slightly but didn’t back down. “Y/n- that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw tight. “What do you want?”

“I want us to be a family again.” Feyre’s voice softened, a raw plea in her tone.

Y/n let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and cutting. “A bit too late for that, don’t you think?”

Feyre’s brows knit together, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Is that what you really believe?”

Y/n’s eyes met hers again, hard as stone. “It doesn’t matter what I believe- it is what it is.”

Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, trying to bridge the emotional chasm between them. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” Y/n replied sharply.

Feyre took in a slow breath, steadying herself. “Is that what you want? To push me and everyone else who cares about you away?”

“If I said yes, what are you going to do about it? Will you finally leave me alone?”

Feyre’s throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. “I see training hasn’t helped.”

Y/n’s bitter laugh returned, sharper this time. “You can’t have everything your way, Feyre. You can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.”

“Father wouldn’t want you to-”

“Don’t mention him.” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, but she straightened her spine, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Ever.”

Feyre winced as if Y/n’s words had physically struck her. “Is that what this is about?” Her voice dropped, her features softening with quiet grief. “Because there was nothing you could’ve done.”

“I said don’t.” Y/n’s voice was low, trembling with restrained power. “You are pregnant and I can barely contain my powers, so please don’t push my boundaries.”

Feyre hesitated, her mouth tightening as she tried to hold back her response.

She finally spoke again, softer this time. “I have something I want to share with you and Nesta. Can you remain civil, or is that out of your control, too?”

“I can try, but I can’t promise you anything.”

As Feyre led her inside, Nesta was waiting in the hallway. It appeared that they’d already had a conversation before Feyre went out to talk to Y/n.

“Since Elain found out I was pregnant, I wanted you both to know first- it’s a boy,” Feyre informed them.

“The baby?” Nesta asked.

 The two sisters had a brief conversation. Feyre hoped Y/n would at least try- say anything but she didn’t. There had only been one time only when Y/n was extremely mad at Feyre when they were younger, but it had never been this bad. Y/n had quarreled with all her sisters over the years, but it never escalated to this point. Feyre wondered if it was because of the heightened emotions Fae-kind experienced compared to humans or if it was because of the trauma Y/n had experienced during the war. 

When their mother died, Y/n became cold and distant, but never like this. Even a few years later, when Y/n came home one day and pushed everyone away for over a month, it was never this bad. It was after that month that Y/n had gone to look for her biological father and secure some work. When she came to visit a few months later, she was softer, but it never occurred to Feyre what might have happened if Y/n hadn’t left after that month. Would she still have pushed them away? Stayed cold and distant? 

The sisters had asked her a couple of times what had happened that day when she’d returned, shaking, but they never got an answer. It was something Y/n carried with her to this day, something she’d tried burying deep inside. Time had dulled the pains lightly, but it never healed her. She had stayed too busy to think about anything else back then- always moving, always occupied.

But ever since becoming Fae, time felt endless. And when those feelings crept up on her, she’d thrown herself  into the war, thinking it would be enough to drown everything out. And after they’d won, she numbed the pain in other ways. Now, with no distractions left, it all resurfaced, rising like waves trying to pull her under. She was slowly breaking apart. 

Years of trauma were creeping to the surface. She’d never dealt with any of it- just ran from it, always running from her problems.

She hadn’t realized that one day, it would all catch up to her and there would be no more escaping them. 

One of her greatest struggles wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was that she cared too much. So much that it consumed her, filling every bone, every muscle, every vein with the weight of her emotions. She didn’t know how to deal with that, let alone talk to someone about it. 

Since she had always run from her problems, pushing everyone away felt easier. It was painful, yes- but in a very twisted way, it was also more comfortable.

“Ready?” Azriel’s voice broke through the haze, pulling her back to reality.

She blinked and realized they were standing at the front door with Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. Cassian had already flown off with Nesta moments ago.

“I hope you get through whatever you’re going through,” Feyre said softly.

Y/n hesitated for a moment before taking Azriel’s extended hand. As she prepared to leave, she finally muttered, “Congratulations, Feyre. I hope you’re happy.”

The next day as Y/n was heading to the dining room, she met Azriel halfway down the stairs. Ever since that night when she bared her soul to him, she had barely spoken to him. Avoiding him completely was impossible, so she opted for the second best option- minimal interaction.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Azrile greeted, his tone quiet yet warm.

“Shadowsinger.”

He opened his mouth as though to say something else, but Y/n quickened her steps, gaining a few strides on him. He got the message: she did not want to talk to him. 

When she reached the dining room, Cassian was already sitting in his usual place, and Nesta had just arrived a few moments earlier. Y/n took a seat, followed by Azriel. 

Cassian raised a brow at his brother, his expression suspicious. “Morning, Az. Y/n.” Then he turned to Nesta with a smirk. “Nes. How’d you sleep?”

Something was definitely going on between them. Y/n’s gaze flicked between the two of them before settling on Azriel, who only shrugged.

“Like a babe,” Nesta replied smoothly.

“I’ll be doing some training today before heading out,” Azriel informed Cassian. “I hope I won’t be interrupting anything.” 

“Not at all. We’ll be starting hand-to-hand combat,” Cassian said with a grin. 

Y/n perked up slightly- she had some experience in that area.

“My least favorite,” Azriel remarked as he grabbed a piece of fruit.

“Why?” Nesta asked, curious.

Azriel’s hazel eyes gleamed as he cast a brief glance at Y/n before returning to Nesta. “I like swordplay…Hand-to-hand is too close for my taste.” 

Interesting. Was he hinting at something? Or teasing a certain someone?

“He doesn’t like getting a face full of someone’s armpit sweat,” Cassian joked, biting into his bread.

“Show me how you two fight,” Nesta demanded.

Azriel blinked, caught off guard. 

Nesta continued. “I want to know what I’m up against.”

Y/n slurped her coffee, raising her eyes slightly to look at the two warriors.

As the three of them headed for the fighting ring, Cassian paused. “would you like to join us, Y/n?” 

Good thing he asked, because if he didn’t, she was planning to watch anyway. It was a sight she didn’t want to miss.

“You want to do a little sparring? It’s been a while since I wiped the floor with you,” Cassian taunted, his grin cocky as always.

Azriel was calm as he took off his jacket and shirt, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen. Cassian did the same. 

Y/n leaned against the wall near the water station, watching with mild amusement. She only glanced at Nesta once or twice without exchanging any words.

Cassian flexed his stomach muscles, earning him a disapproving look from Azriel,  who muttered, “Pathetic, Cass.” 

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, unable to help herself.

Noticing Azriel’s equally muscled form, Cassian asked, “Where the hell are you training these days?” 

Azriel answered nonchalantly, “Here- at night.” 

Cassian frowned. “Trouble sleeping?”

The Shadowsinger’s gaze flicked briefly toward Y/n before he muttered, “Something like that.”

Even that quick glance didn’t escape Cassian’s notice. His eyes trailed to where Azriel had been looking moments ago. He wondered if there was something going on between them. He hadn’t detected any scent of arousal from either of them-  but then again, Azriel had his ways of hiding things. 

The two Illyrians circled each other before beginning their sparring. 

“Come on, show me what you’ve been practicing all night long,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel only smiled in response.

Nesta raised a brow. “Is this how you usually fight? By circling and taunting each other?”

Before she could finish her thought, the brothers began exchanging blows. Each punch was blocked and countered with precision. Some hits found their targets, but the brothers did not use their full strength- otherwise, they’d have been dragging each other to the healer with broken bones. 

Y/n found herself enjoying this far more than swordplay, for the simple fact that here, blood could be shed, and punches would hurt. In swordplay, she couldn’t draw blood unless it was a real battle. Sparring with blades was just a contest to see who could disarm their opponent faster with a few precise moves. Hand to hand combat, though exhausting, demanded more. It required more- was raw, more violent- even in practice.

After a while, even though both warriors could go for hours, Cassian decided to wrap it up, seeing  had an actual lesson to teach. “Whoever lands the next blow wins,” he declared.

Azriel scowled. “That’s ridiculous. We go until one of us eats dirt.”

He was competitive, and Y/n was just discovering this side of him. Unlike Cassian, who was arrogant and boastful, Azriel was always the quiet, sneaky, calculating one- always outsmarting his brothers at every turn. It’s why, over the centuries, he’d won more often than either of them in whatever games they played.

Azriel managed to trick Cassian by widening his eyes at Nesta as though something was wrong. When Cassian followed his gaze, Azriel’s fist shot out and landed a solid punch to his brother’s jaw. Cassian stumbled back, rubbing his chin.

Azriel smirked as he walked to the water station. Y/n was already there, handing him a cup of water. 

“For someone who hates hand-to-hand combat, you’re pretty good at it,” she remarked, tilting her head as she studied him, still leaning against the wall. 

He gave a slight nod, his lips quirking as he took the cup from her hand.

She hesitated before asking. “Will you be back tonight?”

He met her gaze. “Do you want me to be?

She rolled her eyes. “Will you, or will you not?”

“Ever so impatient, Y/n.” His eyes softened. “Yes, I will be back.” 

The truth was, he wasn’t planning to. But seeing that unspoken plea in her eyes changed his mind. He knew she’d never ask outright- so he’d come.

“I want to train with you,” she admitted suddenly.

Azriel blinked. “I thought you-”

“In hand-to-hand combat,” she clarified.

He crossed his arms. “Why the sudden change?”

Her eyes flicked toward Cassian. “Let’s just say there’s a certain grin on someone’s face I’d like to erase.”

Azriel followed her gaze and gave a knowing nod. “That’s going to take more time than you think and… it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t want easy,” Y/n replied with a smirk. “And the longer it takes, the sweeter the taste of victory.”

And the longer it took, the more time she’d spend with Azriel- the more excuses for physical contact they’d have. And to touch those muscles- nope, that was definitely not why she wanted to train with him.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345 @fan-of-many-bands @freefalls06-blog @yesiamthatwierd @ms-dont-care

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 16

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: An unexpected visit from Elain triggers Y/n, leading her to push everyone away again, but Azriel sees through her defenses. She begins to gain partial control over her powers after an emotional outburst and testing a new theory.

Warnings: angst, mention of death, and despair.

WC: 4.2K

The next time Y/n trained with Cassian, her demeanor was colder than usual. She didn’t even greet him, didn’t acknowledge him, she simply resumed her position without a word.

“You’re mad at me?” Cassian asked, his brows drawing together.

“I don’t care about you enough to be mad,” she snapped, glaring at him before returning to her exercise.

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Let’s just train,” she replied curtly, shutting him down. And back to the beginning they went.

Y/n was already in a foul mood that morning, but when Elain came uninvited, it tipped her over the edge. First, she had spoken to Nesta, and that had gone as poorly as expected. Hoping for a better outcome, Elain turned to Y/n. But she was wrong. 

When Y/n entered her room and found Elain seated in her armchair, her mood soured further.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp. There were no greetings, no pleasantries, no trace of affection for her younger sister. Y/n saw Elain’s actions when she packed her belongings as a betrayal.

“I came to see you,” Elain said softly.

“Bold of you to assume I want anything to do with you,” Y/n shot back, her tone cutting.

“Y/n, don’t be like that.”

“You’re a traitorous bitch,” Y/n spat. “Nesta and I sat by your side for weeks while you refused to eat or drink. We didn’t interfere. We let you grieve. Gave you all the time you needed. No one seemed to have a problem with that.”

“You and Nesta were indulging in dangerous activities,” Elain argued, her tone hesitant but firm.

“Not eating and drinking are dangerous too,” Y/n retorted. “I just can’t believe you of all people would turn out to be a treacherous snake. All for what? So you can join Feyre’s little circle of clowns who think themselves better than everyone else?”

“You know that’s not true,” Elain protested, tears welling in her eyes.

“Isn’t it? Because the way I see it, the minute you got the opportunity to switch sides, you took it.”

“There are no sides, Y/n. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“My sister died a long time ago,” Y/n said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She was killed by the King of Hybern when he threw her into that damned Cauldron.” Angry words, full of hurt. Whether she meant them or not, it didn't matter, they already struck their target. 

“I-” Elain’s sucked in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “If you thought so, why did you stay by my side after?”

“Because I thought there was a part of my sister left in you. But I was wrong,” Y/n said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “You’re just like the rest of them now. A High Fae, the very kind I despise.” More poisoned arrows, her tone dripping with hatred. If Elain didn’t leave soon, she didn’t know if she could stop herself.

“You don’t mean that,” Elain whispered, her voice breaking.

“I.mean.every.word,” Y/n enunciated harshly.

“You and Nesta are the same.”

“I’m worse,” Y/n said darkly. “Now leave, I don’t want to see you again.”

Cassian had barely managed to calm Rhys down after Elain stormed out, tears streaming down her face, telling him her sisters weren’t improving, weren’t even trying. She’d spent less than five minutes with either of them and had concluded that. After Rhys and Elain left, Cassian didn’t know where to start and who to talk to first.

From her room, Y/n heard the heated argument between Cassian and Nesta. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. Tiny beads of blood welled up, leaving faint red streaks on her hands.

Unable to stand the confines of her room any longer, she headed to the roof for fresh air. Minutes later, Cassian followed her, his steps heavy with frustration. 

“What the fuck happened with Elain?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he crossed his arms.

Y/n didn’t even turn to look at him. “You couldn’t get an answer from Nesta, so now you’re coming after me?”

“They think neither of you are improving.”

“Ah,” Y/n said bitterly, her tone dripping with mockery. “So this was an evaluation of our progress?”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? And the best part? I don't care. I don’t care what Elain thinks of me, what Feyre, your High Lord, or anyone else does.”

Cassian frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. “You used to go head-to-head with anyone who dared look at your sisters the wrong way. And now this?”

“Things change,” she said coolly. “People change. And it’s not always for the better.”

“Not you,” he insisted, his voice softening. “Not this. There was nothing that could make you turn your back on your sisters.”

“They made their choice. And I made mine.”

“So, what?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Now you’re just going to push everyone away like Nesta? Pretend you don’t care?”

“I SAID STOP COMPARING ME TO HER!” Y/n’s voice thundered, and with it, the sky answered. Lightning rippled through the clouds, illuminating the roof as rain began to fall. 

Cassian’s eyes widened a bit, his shoulders stiffening. “So you still have your powers?”

“Get out of here, General,” she muttered, her voice eerily calm. “Before I hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” she warned, her eyes glowing faintly as the storm above intensified. “I’m barely containing myself. I need you to leave before I lose control.”

Cassian studied her for a moment longer, his expression torn between concern and reluctant understanding. He realized she wasn’t threatening him but trying to contain the rest of her powers so she wouldn’t hurt him. She was holding back, but the effort wouldn’t last. If she continued suppressing it, she would explode, and he’d be caught in the aftermath. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and left, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Once he was gone, Y/n exhaled shakily, her fists still clenched at her sides. The storm above rumbled, the rain coming down harder now. She tilted her head back, letting the cold drops hit her face. And then, she let go.

The sky erupted. Lightning flashed across the dark clouds in jagged streaks, illuminating the heavens as thunder cracked violently around her. Y/n stood still, unflinching, as the tempest mirrored the chaos within. For the first time, she didn’t fight it, didn’t try to rein it in. She let her powers surge outward, merging with the storm above.

The release was almost euphoric. The rage, the pain, the frustration, it all poured out of her, feeding the storm. For once, she didn’t fear her power. She embraced it- owned it. She felt untouchable, invincible, as the rain drenched her to the bone, her heart pounding in her chest and her breaths coming fast and shallow. 

This power- it was something she had never viewed this way before. No longer something to be restrained or feared, it was a force to wield, to command. It was freeing, exhilarating. Now she finally understood- it was something to die for, and it was all hers.

When the tempest began to wane, her breaths steadied, and the rain slowed, turning into delicate snowflakes. 

This time, she did not faint. She had braced herself. She exhaled deeply, the last of her energy ebbing away, leaving her drained but at peace.

That night, as she prepared to sleep, a knock sounded at her door. She groaned softly, tugging her robe tighter around her as she moved to answer. To her surprise, Azriel stood on the other side, his wings tucked neatly behind him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone neutral. Her long braid was half undone, and her transparent robe revealed the nightgown beneath it.

Azriel’s eyes flicked downward for the briefest moment before meeting hers again. “May I come in?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening on the door. After a moment, she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find him standing closer than she expected. She took an instinctive step back as his breath brushed her skin, her pulse quickening despite herself.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.

“I heard about what happened today,” he said, his tone soft.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“I haven’t come to argue with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I came to check on you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “See how you were feeling.”

Her lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “Magnificent.”

“I’m serious,” Azriel said, his voice dropping a notch.

“So am I,” she countered. “I no longer fear my powers. I fully embraced them today, and it felt amazing. Freeing.”

A faint line appeared on his forehead as his eyebrows pinched. “So the thunderstorm was all you?”

She raised a brow. “Do you have them here often?”

He shook his head.

“Then you have your answer.”

“Do you know what triggered it?” he asked, his tone careful, measured.

Y/n’s expression shifted, “Rage, I think. This time it was rage. The other time- times, it was a mix of different emotions. The first time, it was fear. The second, pain. And now, rage.” She paused, meeting his gaze. “But every time, it happened when my emotions were…amplified.” 

She hesitated before continuing. “Today, after I let go, I felt in control. At first, I couldn’t stop it, but as it poured out of me, I realized I didn’t want it to stop. The power, it was alluring.”

Azriel studied her carefully, his shadows swirling faintly at his shoulders. “You weren’t scared?”

“Not one bit.”

“Can you summon it now?” he asked after a pause.

She blinked, taken aback by the question. “I…I don’t know.”

“Could you try?” he pressed.

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to know if you can harness it any time you want?” he countered.

Y/n’s expression darkened, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. “Is that all? Or do you want to see if I am a danger to the people around me?”

“If you were, I wouldn’t ask you to try,” he replied calmly.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered almost bitterly. “You have your shields and shadows.”

His gaze softened. “I know you wouldn’t hurt the people you care about.”

“That’s not true,” she mumbled sourly.

“Physically, I mean,” he clarified. “Now, could you please show me?”

“But I’m not feeling anything right now,” she admitted, her voice softer.

“Does it matter which emotion it is?”

“I don’t know. So far, it’s been different each time.”

“May I try something?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Like what?” she asked warily, eyeing him.

“Close your eyes,” Azriel instructed and she raised a skeptical brow.

“Just trust me on this,” he said, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/n sighed but complied, closing her eyes reluctantly. 

He moved closer, his hand brushing hers before taking it gently in his grasp. She flinched at the contact, but he tightened his hold just enough to stop her from pulling away. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, opening her eyes. 

“Just trust me,” he repeated, his voice a murmur. “Close your eyes.”

She huffed, her skepticism plain. “I don’t think I can do that while you're holding my hand hostage.”

He snorted at her choice of words, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes but closed them again, letting out a resigned sigh. “Alright, you have one chance.” Why she agreed and listened to his instructions, she couldn’t quite explain.

His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over the back of her hand as he stepped behind her. His other hand gently lifted the braid that rested over her neck, letting it fall to one side. The soft brush of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.

“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She tried to glance over her shoulder, but he stilled her with a quiet word.

“Now,” he said gently, “picture the most beautiful place you can think of.”

She frowned mildly but followed his instruction. “Alright. Now what?”

“Think of someone you love,” he said quietly.

Her brows knitted together, her expression tightening. “You’re aiming for the wrong emotion,” she said bluntly. “My feelings are… very complicated right now. I don’t even know if I’m capable of love anymore.” 

“You are,” he replied firmly, his grip on her hand steady. “I’ve seen it– in the way you love your sisters, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now.”

Y/n said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Azriel’s tone softened as he added, “But that’s not what I was aiming for. I meant something- someone… more intimate.”

“Like a lover?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You’re asking me to think about someone I love,” she began, frowning again, “but if I presumably loved someone in the past and we’re not together anymore, it means I don’t love them anymore. So this doesn’t make sense.” 

She opened her eyes and turned to face him, her brows furrowing as she questioned his logic. The motion brought their faces closer than she’d realized, the tip of her nose brushing against his. The unintended closeness startled her, her breath hitching as a rush of heat surged through her. Her heart skipped a beat, the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filling the small space between them. Her pulse quickened, and she struggled to ignore the pull she felt, the way her body seemed to react on its own.

In that fleeting moment, a jolt of energy sparked between them, crackling at her fingertips and sending a faint shiver up her spine.

Azriel’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable as the faint crackle of electricity escaped from her fingertips. A flicker of lightning danced across the sky outside, its glow briefly illuminating the room.

“There,” he murmured as he gestured toward the window behind her.

Y/n blinked, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. Her heart raced as she turned her face away from him to check. He hadn’t let go of her hand, not that either of them seemed to notice in the moment. 

“What did you think of just now?” he asked, his tone careful, though his gaze remained fixed on her.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry. A simple question, yet it felt impossible to answer. What could she say? That it had been him? That the proximity, his presence, had been enough to shatter her defenses and ignite her power? Her pulse roared in her ears, she couldn’t lie to him, but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. So she settled on deflection. 

She closed her eyes again, forcing her focus on that feeling, that ripple of power coursing through her. No storm this time, but lightning struck and struck, sharp and controlled. Azriel watched intently as she concentrated, her face set with determination. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, an eerie calm settling over them.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly. “You seem to be able to summon it at will.” He let out a condensed breath, his shadows flickering subtly around him.

She finally opened her eyes, and the lightning ceased. “I might be able to control it once it’s started,” she admitted, her voice edged with a trace of frustration, “but I didn’t summon it. It just… happened and that’s the part I need to master.”

“Well I am no expert, but I know someone who could help you,” he offered carefully.

“No.” Her reply was immediate and sharp. She stepped back from him, her hand slipping out of his grasp as she put distance between them. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“How do you even know who I was going to suggest?” Azriel asked, his tone even but curious.

“You were going to say your High Lord’s second-in-command,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I won’t see her or anyone from your little circle of friends. It’s enough that I’m training with your brother. Don’t push my limits.”

Azriel sighed, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I wasn’t going to. It was just a suggestion.”

“One you knew I’d never agree to,” she countered, her voice thick with irritation. “Yet you still brought it up… you should leave.”

His expression tightened, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. “Are you always so easily irritable?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I am trying my best to be civil, but you lot don’t make it easy.”

“Is that why you surrounded yourself with all those drug addicts?” Azriel blurted. “Because they couldn’t form two sentences? Couldn’t get to know you?”

Her eyes flashed with anger as she met his gaze. “I surrounded myself with them because they’re as miserable as I am,” she snapped. “We understood each other. And we didn’t need to talk about our feelings. There’s a bliss in forgetting, and all you lot want to do is shove me into a world where everyone is happy and perfect, I despise it- despise them.”

Azriel didn’t interrupt, his face still unreadable as she continued.

“At least with them,” she went on, her voice taut with frustration, ”being around those people you so disapprove of did not make me feel like shit. They didn’t judge me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I cannot say the same about your friends.” Her gaze narrowed, anger and vulnerability flashing in equal measure. “And don’t tell me what you’re doing is because you care about me, and that I’m going down the wrong path, and that it’s for my best, blah, blah, blah. I’m not stupid, Shadowsinger. I know what I’m doing.” Her voice broke a bit as she finished, barely above a whisper. “I just don’t have the will to live anymore.” 

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Y/n’s chest heaved with the weight of her confession, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. She refused to meet his gaze, hating how her voice had betrayed her, as her carefully constructed walls crumbled under his quiet presence. She hated it all, every part of it- the way he seemed to see through her, the way he refused to leave, the way he always managed to slip past the barriers she worked so hard to maintain. The way he made her heart soften at times, despite her best efforts. The way, even after she’d pushed him away, he always found a way back it

This day had been long and horrible. She’d just shown Azriel a side of herself that she’d never shown anyone, confessed something she hadn’t even dared to voice aloud before. 

“That’s a lie,” Azriel said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking, but firm, yet gentle. “If that were true, you would’ve ended your life.”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged, a long, broken sigh escaping her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. If I did, everything would stop. I don’t deserve a quick and painless ending.” Her voice cracked once again, and she hated herself for it.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she push him away this time? Why was she confessing all of this? Stop- she needed to stop.

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows tightening around him. “So you’re punishing yourself?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. “I said enough,” she whispered, a faint tremor in her tone.

Azriel didn’t push further, sensing the thin thread of control she clung to. Instead, he shifted the subject suddenly. “Your theory was right.” 

“What?” She blinked in confusion.

“Your powers,” he explained, gesturing toward the window where another crack of lightning lit up the sky. “They’re connected to how you feel. When your emotions are heightened, they manifest.” Her eyes followed his gesture for a moment, her expression hardening slightly as the realization sank in. She hadn’t even noticed this time as the storm raged outside.

She turned her glare on him, her frustration mounting once more. “You did all of this just to test a theory?”

“Not intentionally,” he admitted. “But when I mentioned Amren and saw how irritable you became, I noticed how your powers responded almost immediately. How your body reacted. How your powers slipped past you so easily.”

Her glare sharpened. “So you let me ramble just to see what might happen?”

“No,” he replied immediately, his voice resolute. “You needed to let all of that out. I hope you feel better now.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.

“I’m not your enemy, Y/n,” he spoke softly, his tone unshaken, almost gentle, as he let out a faint exhale.

“You’re not my friend either,” She shot back, the words biting.

“You’re upset,” Azriel acknowledged calmly. “I’ll take my leave, then.” With his hands buried in his pockets and his head dipping slightly, he took a couple of tentative steps backward before turning toward the door. 

“So you’re just going to run away?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Azriel stilled mid-step, then turned back to face her. “I’m not... Do- do you want me to stay? If you need someone to yell at, to vent to, I’ll stay.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair as she began pacing the room. Her frustration was growing with every passing second.

He watched her carefully, his sharp gaze noticing every subtle shift- the way her body tensed, the reluctance to let him in, the struggle within between pushing him away and letting him in, the confusion, and the exhaustion. 

“Take a deep breath, Y/n,” he instructed calmly.

He considered reaching out to her but held back, knowing that in her current state, she likely wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. Even though what she probably needed most at that moment was a hug.

She spun on her heel to glare at him again. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she barked.

“Alright,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll just sit here till you’ve calmed down.”

“You’re going to be sitting there a long time,” she hissed, each answer like a snake spitting venom on its prey, her eyes burning with barely contained fury as he nails dug into her palms. 

But Azriel did not flinch. He did not move, did not budge. His calm presence was infuriating, steady against the storm she tried to unleash on him, as if daring her to throw everything she had his way. 

“That’s fine,” he replied evenly, settling himself in a chair.

Y/n stared at him, her breathing uneven. She wanted to scream at him, shove him out, anything to make him leave. But the fight drained out of her with every breath. “No it’s not. I need you to leave.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because I don’t want you here.” She tried to keep herself composed, but the crack in her voice deepened.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her as it broke entirely.

“You do.”

“Stop- please just leave.” Her words were softer now, her pacing slowing, her body sagging under the weight of her emotions. She was tired. Too tired to fight, to talk, to pretend. Too tired to do anything.

“I will, once I make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though even she didn’t believe the words.

“You’re far from it, but that’s alright,” Azriel said gently.

Y/n let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she finally stilled. “I don’t have the energy to fight you anymore,” she admitted, her tone weary, defeated.

“Then don’t,” Azriel said simply. “Just get some rest.” 

How could he be so composed, so calm? She did not let herself think about anything- she could not.  Too drained to argue, too exhausted to pretend any longer, Y/n climbed into her bed. Her body felt heavy as she closed her eyes, hoping all of this was just a bad dream. 

Azriel stayed, his shadows curling protectively around her as he watched her, almost as if they’re trying to soothe or comfort her. He waited until her breathing evened out and the tension in her features melted away as she slipped into sleep.

The temperature in the room had dropped drastically, the cold biting at his skin. Moving quietly, he crossed to the windows and closed them. Luckily, the house responded, lighting a fire in her room.

“Sweet dreams, Stormbringer,” he murmured, pulling her blanket up to tuck her in with gentle care.

For a moment, he lingered, his gaze fixed on her now-peaceful form. A hint of a smile crossed his face. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned and slipped out of the room, his shadows following in his wake.

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Solstice Gifts

A/N: Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄✨ This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would give the reader a gift during Solstice. I originally planned to write for all the High Lords, but I ran out of time (and ideas). Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Azriel

Being Feyre’s younger sister, you were new to Rhys’s inner circle and Azriel wasn’t sure if you would accept a gift from him, or if it would even be appropriate. So when the time came for exchanging presents, he didn't immediately hand you his.

As a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster, he had observed what you liked and wanted. So when he decided to get you a gift, he let his shadows quietly place it in your room, unwilling to cross that boundary himself.

When you returned that evening, you found it waiting for you, simply wrapped with a small card in his neat handwriting: For you. From Azriel.

The simple words made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest. But your surprise only grew when you unwrapped the gift and found the very thing you’ve been quietly wanting for so long.

Later that night, you made your way to his room, your nerves making you knock so soft you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it. But his sharp senses caught it anyway, and when he opened the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of you standing there.

You stammered a little before managing to thank him, your cheeks warm. He dipped his head slightly, his voice low as he replied, “I wanted you to have something that mattered, something that you truly wanted.”

On impulse, you stepped onto your toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again, before pulling back and reluctantly walking back to your room.

His heart skipped a beat, shadows curling around his shoulders as he watched you go. Part of him wanted to call after you, to say something to make you stay, but he held back. It wasn’t the right time…not yet.

Cassian

Unlike Azriel, Cassian was anything but subtle. When you joined Rhys’s inner circle, he couldn’t resist flirting with you at every opportunity. Your friendship quickly became filled with playful banter, though you almost always dismissed his shameless remarks with an eye roll or a sharp retort.

On Winter Solstice evening, as everyone exchanged presents, he plopped down beside you on the couch, his thigh pressing comfortably against yours. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “What do you want?” you asked, half exasperated, half amused.

“I want nothing,” he said, grinning as he handed you a small box. The wrapping was so crumpled it looked as though he’d wrestled it into submission. You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head as you opened it.

Inside was a stunning necklace with a rare gemstone. For a moment, you were speechless. His taste had completely taken you by surprise, you hadn’t thought a warrior like Cassian would pick out something so elegant. “This is…beautiful,” you said softly, unsure of what else to say as you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in thanks.

When you pulled back, his grin widened, and you knew what was coming even before he opened his mouth. “I thought about how good that stone would look between your breasts and couldn’t resist getting it,” he muttered, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

Your jaw dropped, your face heating as you stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then, you elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “You’re absolutely shameless.” Though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Cassian only laughed, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Rhysand

Rhys whisks you away to the top of the House of Wind, Velaris glittering below you. With a wave of his hand, a small box appears in his grasp. “Go on, open it,” he urges, his violet eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You do as he says, carefully unwrapping the box to reveal a pendant with a tiny glowing star encased within. “Rhys, you shouldn’t have,” you murmur, awe and gratitude flooding your voice.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before replying with a smirk and a wink. “Oh, that’s nothing…wait till you see what I’ve got planned for you in the bedroom.”

You give him a pointed look before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he quips, his smirk widening. “And I don’t just mean in the bedroom. There are more gifts waiting for you there. Come on, let’s go.” He takes your hand and begins leading you downstairs, his excitement barely contained.

“Rhysss!” you groan, pouting slightly as he tugs you along. “I told you, I don’t need gifts. Having you is enough.”

He pauses mid-step, turning to cup your cheek and pinch it playfully. “I know, darling,” he says softly. “But I can’t help it. I want to shower you with gifts and spoil you like you deserve. After all, you are my greatest gift, and there’s nothing I can do that could ever compare.”

Lucien

Feyre had invited Lucien to this year’s Winter Solstice, and although his duties kept him busy, he had agreed to come, if only for the chance to spend more time with you, his mate. Though you hadn’t accepted the bond yet, you hadn’t rejected it either. This was all new to you, and Lucien had resolved to give you as much time and space as you needed, not wanting to push or make you uncomfortable in the slightest.

He had missed you. It had been months since he last saw you, back in the summer. So when you descended the stairs that evening, his heart drummed wildly in his chest. His amber eye and russet gaze tracked your every step until your eyes met his. You greeted him with a polite nod, and he returned it, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, he lingered on the edge of the festivities, watching you from afar as the others exchanged gifts, laughed, and drank. Finally, mustering his courage, he approached you, his palms damp with nervousness.

“I came across this during my travels,” he muttered softly, handing you a small package wrapped in elegant paper. “I thought you might like it.” Curiosity piqued, you unwrapped the gift, revealing a vintage wooden box. Inside lay a pair of earrings, their intricate design unlike anything you’d ever seen. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the kind of artistry that carried stories within its details.

When you looked up, you found him watching you intently, his gaze warm but hesitant. “It’s nothing compared to what you deserve,” he murmured in a low tone. “But…it’s from the heart.” A small, almost shy smile curved his lips. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “I have a small gift for you too.”

His brows furrowed in confusion as you disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, you returned, holding a single cupcake on a small plate. Handing it to him, you said softly, “I hope you like chocolate. I baked it myself.”

At first, Lucien didn't react. Then realization dawned on his face. “Oh. OH!” His voice rose slightly as the significance of your gesture hit him. “Is this wh- are you aware of what this means in fae tradition?”

You nodded, a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

His breath hitched. “Are you sure?” He searched your gaze for any hesitation. But when you smiled and nodded again, his resolve melted.

Lucien carefully picked up the cupcake, taking a deliberate bite. His eyes closed briefly as he savored it before opening again, now glowing with warmth and joy. “It’s delicious,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as he stressed the word. “Thank you.”

Setting the cupcake aside, he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “May I?” he whispered.

When you nodded again, he closed the small distance between you, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and full of longing it stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a promise, a declaration, and the sealing of the bond he had waited so long for.

Eris

Being Rhysand’s sister and Eris being Beron’s son made your relationship…complicated, to say the least. Some days, you couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Other days, the tension simmered so hot it was impossible to think of anything but dragging each other to the nearest bed…or any available surface to fuck.

Eris, of course, would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was in love with you.

On Winter Solstice, he sent an urgent message demanding you meet him halfway between your courts, in a clearing deep in the forest. His tone had been curt, and you’d feared the worst as you rushed to the meeting spot.

When you arrived, he stepped out of the shadows with his usual smirk. Before you could say a word, he tossed something at you. “Catch.”

Instinct kicked in, and you lunged to catch the small package before it hit the ground. Straightening, you narrowed your eyes at him, holding the elaborately wrapped gift in your hands. “This was the ‘urgent’ matter?” Eris shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His gaze flickered to the horizon, refusing to meet yours. “It’s nothing big. Don’t read too much into it. Just…open it.” His voice was smooth, nonchalant, but you could sense the tension beneath it. He stood rooted in place, his head tilted as though he wasn’t watching you, but you could feel the weight of his focus. A part of him feared you’d hate it. Another part clung to the hope that you’d like it, that your eyes would sparkle and you’d smile, that rare, genuine smile he secretly craved.

Slowly, you unwrapped the package. Inside was a bracelet, simple yet elegant, crafted with the kind of skill only found in the Autumn Court. The small fire-red gemstone set into it caught the light like a glowing ember, warm and alive.

And there it was…that flicker of surprise, the soft curve of your lips, the quiet joy in your eyes. He’d found what he was looking for, and it was enough. That moment was his true gift this Solstice.

But when you glance up to thank him, he was already turning away. “Happy Solstice,” he murmured, his voice cool and distant, as though the gift hadn’t taken him weeks to choose.

Before you could respond, he winnowed out, disappearing into the night without a backward glance. Because if he’d stayed, if he’d looked into your eyes again, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 15

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n slowly begins to recover, gradually warming up to Azriel and Cassian again. She agrees to train with Cassian but only under a few conditions.

A/N: As promised, here’s the next chapter with more Az interaction. Enjoy!

WC: 4.8K.

As days went by, Y/n’s nightmares became less frequent. Cassian only spoke a few words to her whenever they crossed paths, mostly greetings, casual questions about her day, how she’s doing, and nothing more. No snarky comments, no mention of training.

She hadn’t seen Azriel for a while either. He was mostly on missions, ones she knew nothing about, and when he was back, he either stayed locked in his room or left just before she arrived.

Somehow, whenever she’d enter the dining room, she’d catch the lingering trail of shadows and find a half-empty plate or cup. He always seemed to know when she’d come and left before she could ignore him or say something to hurt him. It was almost like he was avoiding her just as much as she was avoiding him.

She began to miss him, and that was dangerous.

But at least her life had improved. She was eating again, going to the library, chatting with Gwyn occasionally, and knitting. Being left alone had softened her, just a little, though she wouldn't admit it to herself.

On one of those nights, she had finished a book that left her feeling content for once. The idea of sleep didn’t appeal to her yet, so she headed to the roof for some peace, fresh air, and a view of the slumbering city below.

She did not notice Azriel training in the corner of the roof at first. As usual he was as slick and silent as the shadows, his form blending into the dark. This time, his shadows did not inform him of her arrival. When he saw her, he moved slightly, making an accidental noise that earned her attention.

“I didn’t know you were back,” she remarked, her voice softer than usual, though her brows rose in faint surprise.

Azriel paused, lowering his weapon. “Only for the night.” His body remained tense, debating whether to leave to stay.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” she asked, stepping further into the open air.

“I do when I need one,” he answered simply.

“You’re going to work yourself to death.” Her gaze flicked over him, taking in the weariness etched into his features. “You look like hell. You should get some rest.”

It was her way of not being cold to him, and they both knew it.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you cared.” Though low, his tone carried a faint chill, guarded as ever.

“I- it was just a suggestion,” she clarified quickly, glancing away. “If whatever you’re doing is important, you need to take a step back and rest. If your head isn’t in the game, it’ll cost you a lot. And I know you don’t like to disappoint your High Lord.”

“I’ll rest when I feel the need to,” he insisted, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer. Then he added, almost too softly. “Thank you for your advice.”

She didn’t know if he was being sincere or mocking her; his face betrayed nothing.

Y/n shifted on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. Just as she turned to leave, she noticed his shadows sneaking toward her.

Her gaze followed them instinctively, and her lips quirked slightly. She had missed them too. Noticing his shadows and her focus, Azriel sighed before speaking again. “This had nothing to do with me. Sometimes they act on their own.”

“Relax, Shadowsinger. It’s fine,” she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

At that, his shoulders eased a fraction. He studied her for a moment, his hazel eyes searching her face. Something about her was different, her voice, her behavior towards him, the way she seemed healthier. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied lightly, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve.

“How are things?” he asked, careful and hesitant, as though afraid she might retreat behind her usual defenses.

“Not bad,” she said simply, her gaze drifting out over the city.

“But not good?”

“I’m still a prisoner,” she quipped, a faint edge to her tone.

“Be glad you’re not one of my prisoners,” he countered, softening a bit with a faint smirk, attempting to joke.

“Right. I almost forgot. You’re supposed to be ruthless with all the torturing you do.” Her lips curved upward, though she bit her lower lip to suppress the full smile.

“I’m glad you remembered,” he replied, his tone mock-serious. His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. “But even if you were the most wicked High Fae alive, I promise you’re safe from me.”

“Hmm, even if I became a witch?” she questioned, her voice playful.

“Are you planning on becoming one?” he asked, raising a brow.

“I am,” she teased, shrugging. “But I still need someone to teach me how to channel that much power.”

He didn’t know if she was being serious or joking. “Just give me a heads-up when you do.”

“Why? So you could lock me up?” She couldn’t hide her amused smile anymore.

“I told you, you’re safe from me,” he repeated firmly. “But Spymaster, remember? It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I were the last to know.”

“Fine,” she relented, amused. “If I become a witch, you’ll be the first one to know, I promise. Happy now?”

“Very,” he said, an actual smile, soft and rare pulling at his lips.

Her own faded, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She missed that smile. She missed him, their little talks. For a moment, her expression faltered.

“What is it?” Azriel asked, noticing the shift.

“Nothing,” she murmured. “I should go. I have a long day tomorrow, and so do you. Good night, Shadowsinger.”

Of course, she’d pull away, run away from him the minute she started feeling something. The minute she felt her walls cracking.

“Good night, Troublemaker,” he whispered, though she was already gone.

The next morning, Azriel was gone again. But Y/n found herself in a rare good mood. She’d finally decided to train with Cassian.

This time, she arrived at the training ring dressed in Illyrian leathers, though not the ones she’d worn during the war. She’d burned those custom-made leathers after the war, unable to even look at them without being reminded of all she’d lost. If they hadn’t been custom, she wasn’t sure she could handle seeing others wearing the standard ones.

Cassian, shirtless and already wielding a sword, stood in his usual spot. When he noticed her approach, his brows shot up in surprise. He didn’t want to get his hopes up yet, so he asked, “Here to watch, or to join?”

“I’ve come to play,” she replied, heading for the weapon rack.

His surprise turned into an amused chuckle. “We should practice your movements before you go anywhere near a sword.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she quipped, ignoring his comment as her fingers skimmed over the handles of various blades before selecting the lightest one. If she was going to wield one in front of him for the first time, she wasn’t about to embarrass herself. She knew she needed to work on her arm strength, but she could manage for now.

Cassian grinned, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “It’s for your own safety, but go ahead.”

Sword in hand, Y/n dragged the blade slightly along the ground as she stepped up to him. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are,” he said with a confident smirk, lowering into a defensive stance.

She did not give him a chance to prepare. In one swift motion, she disarmed him, the tip of her blade hovering just below his throat.

Cassian blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Impressive. Let’s go again. I wasn’t prepared.”

“I thought you said you were ‘whenever I was’,” she replied, feigning innocence as she shrugged.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to admit, I was taken by surprise.”

“In battle, your opponent won’t wait for you to get ready. I might not be the strongest or the fastest, but if and when it comes down to a fight, I can hold my own,” she said, lowering the blade.

Cassian retrieved his sword, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful as he studied her. “I see you know some moves. Let’s go again.”

“I’m not a fool. I know I can’t defeat you,” she admitted. “I’ve seen the way you fight. I just took advantage of the situation.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” Cassian said, his tone carrying a hint of respect. “I failed at that, I admit. Where did you learn to do that?”

She ran her fingers along the blade’s edge, inspecting it. “I took self-defense classes a long time ago. And a few sword-fighting lessons too. I practiced from time to time.”

His brows furrowed as he considered her answer. “Why did you let me mock you all this time? Let me believe you couldn’t fight?”

She gave him a cool look. “You never asked. You presumed, just like everyone else.”

His gaze softened, a note of guilt creeping into his voice. “I apologize for that.” His voice was surprisingly serious. “Does anyone else know you can fight?”

“A few Illyrians,” she replied,her tone casual as she inspected the hilt of the sword. “And I believe your Shadowsinger does.”

Cassian’s expression darkened slightly. “Is that why Devlon warned me to keep you away from his warriors? You beat them up?”

“I didn’t beat them up,” Y/n corrected, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say they tried to show me some moves, and I showed them a few of my own.”

Cassian let out a hearty laugh, though his curiosity wasn’t fully satisfied. “Wait- your sisters don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“That is none of your business.”

He sighed but didn’t press. “So, why do you refuse to train then? If you know how to fight?” If he wasn’t intrigued before, he was now.

“That’s also none of your business.”

Cassian snorted, clearly exasperated. “If you hate me and can’t stand to train with me, you could always train with Az or Mor.”

“No.” Her reply was quick, sharp, leaving no room for debate. “Listen, I don’t hate you, but I just don’t like training.”

Cassian crossed his arms, his grin returning. “Is that you complimenting me?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” she shot back, rolling her eyes again. “Although I don’t necessarily hate you, training with you would be unbearable.”

“Is it because you wouldn’t be able to focus on training and rather be too distracted by my handsome face and impressive physique?” Cassian teased, flexing his arms playfully.

“In your dreams,” she retorted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Engaging in conversation with you is frustrating enough. You’re just insufferable. You emanate this… bright aura around you. Your view on life is just-“

“Positive?” Cassian supplied, amused.

“Exactly.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “How do you manage to turn every positive trait into a negative one?” He couldn’t fathom how her mind worked.

“The same way you turn negative ones into positives.”

“Why, though?” he pressed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“None of your business.”

“Is that your answer to everything, anyone asking you a personal question?”

“None- possibly..”

“I can already bet on the answer to this one, but why? Why don’t you want people to know you?”

“And that conversation has already been too much for my brain to handle in one day. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the door but halted, glancing back over her shoulder. “Because I’m in a good mood today, I’ll say something nice to you. Even though training with you would be unbearable, having your body on full display would make it slightly less unpleasant.” She shrugged.

Cassian froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and delight. Then he grinned like a fool. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The next day, when Y/n arrived at the training ring again, Cassian was already there waiting for her, his arms crossed and a curious glint in his eyes. As she approached, he tilted his head, studying her. “So,” he began as she stopped a few paces away, “How do you want to do this?”

“First,” she said, holding up a finger, “I’ll only do basic muscle training. No sparring, no fighting exercises.”

“Why not?” he asked, feigning disappointment.

“I don’t like having an audience when I’m showing my moves.”

Cassian frowned, his brows drawing together. “Afraid someone will learn your fighting style and use it against you?”

“No,” she shot back, giving him an exasperated look. “I just don’t take well to certain kinds of criticism when it comes to this.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I won’t judge. If anything, I might offer some advice, but that’s it.”

“Still,” she said firmly, “I don’t feel ready for that yet.”

“Alright, basic exercises it is,” he agreed, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade.

“Second,” she added, “I’d prefer it if we trained in silence.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Way to kill the mood, Y/n.”

“Want me to train with you or not?” she countered, crossing her arms.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll do as you say.”

With that her training journey officially began.

The nights were different. While Cassian trained with her during the day, Y/n would sneak to the rooftop under the cover of darkness. There, with no eyes watching, she practiced her stances, her movements, and her sword work.

It was after a few nights of this routine that Azriel landed silently on the roof after a mission, only to be met with a sight he never expected to see. Azriel wasn’t surprised by many things, but when it came to Y/n, this female never ceased to catch him off guard. He came to find her focused, her attention wholly on the invisible target she struck with her sword.

Not wanting to disturb her or break her concentration, he remained quiet in the shadows.

After a few minutes, she stilled, her instincts sharpening. She could sense something lurking nearby. She reached for a dagger and, without hesitation, flung it towards the shadows. Azriel dodged by mere inches, stepping out into the faint light with his hands raised in surrender.

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, his tone steady as his golden eyes met hers.

Her shoulders relaxed, though her tone remained sharp. “I thought I made it clear I don’t like being watched.”

“I remember,” he replied. “It wasn’t intentional. I just arrived and didn’t want to interrupt. You seemed… focused.”

Y/n eyed him suspiciously but let it slide. “I’ll let it go this time.”

Azriel’s lips twitched faintly, almost teasing. “I didn’t know you could wield a sword.”

“I’m not a professional, if that’s what you think,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I thought you already knew. You made it seem that way when you asked me about the Illyrians.”

“I thought you used your fists,” Azriel replied smoothly. “And your legs.”

“You’re not wrong,” she replied with a small smirk. “Do your shadows really know all that?”

“And more,” he said, a subtle smile playing at his lips.

Y/n tilted her head. “Then, with all your knowledge, I assume a lot of people want you dead?”

“You assume correctly,” Azriel said in his naturally quiet tone, a hint of amusement threading through it.

Silence lingered between them before he gestured to her sword. “Can I give you a suggestion?”

“About what exactly?”

He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “May I?” he asked, nodding toward the weapon in her hand.

After a brief hesitation, she nodded, handing him the sword. His fingers grazed hers as he took it, the fleeting contact sending an odd jolt up her arms. The shadows around him seemed to still, as if observing.

“You’re holding it like this,” he said softly, his hands steady as they demonstrated her current grip along the hilt. “It’s not wrong, but there’s an easier way to balance the weight without tiring your arms.” His movements were fluid, sure, as he adjusted his hold, showcasing a more efficient grip with ease.

When he handed the sword back to her, his scarred fingers brushed hers once more, the touch lingering just a moment too long. The shadows curled subtly between them, as though curious about the interaction.

“Do you want to give it a try?” he asked, stepping back.

“With you watching?” she muttered, hesitating.

Azriel’ tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Yes. Is that a problem? I can leave if you’d prefer.”

“Yes, no-” Y/n stammered, quickly shaking her head. “I just… I never train in front of anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Your brother asked me the same question a few days ago,” she replied, her tone guarded.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I don’t like being criticized when it comes down to this.”

Azriel studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “But that’s not all, is it?”

She didn’t reply, her grip tightening on the sword as she started at the ground. After a moment, she shook her head.

“I won’t ask again,” he said gently. “Not unless you want to talk about it.”

She looked down at the sword, grateful he didn’t push.

“So,” Azriel continued, breaking the silence. “Do you want to try that move, or would you like me to leave?”

“You can stay, Shadowsinger,” she replied, the words slipping out before she could reconsider.

“Thank you for your generosity.” He gave a playful bow, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as a small smile softened her expression.

Adjusting her grip on the sword, she tried the move he’d demonstrated, surprised to find the technique was indeed easier and more natural than before.

Azriel stepped back and unsheathed his own sword, taking a fluid fighting stance.

“What are you doing?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“You forget, I usually train at night,” he said, his smile widening ever so slightly as the faint glow of starlight danced along his blade. “Don’t worry, I won’t spar with you…unless you want to?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly, her voice a little too sharp. Her heart stuttered as heat crept up her neck. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate,” she added, cursing herself for the words as soon as they left her mouth.

A crease formed between his brows as confusion flickered across his face. “Why is that?”

Because my focus would be elsewhere, she thought to herself and was glad he couldn’t read minds. “I haven’t sparred with anyone in a long time,” she said instead, dodging his question. “The last time I did was during my lessons.”

Azriel regarded her for a moment but didn’t push. “The offer still stands. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

She scoffed. “I don’t think so. You’re a hard male to find.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “If you tell Cass or Rhys, I’ll come meet you.”

“For you to leave your all-important work just to come spar with me? I’m honored,” she said, mock-gasping as she placed her free hand over her chest.

“For you, I’d leave anything,” he replied quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Azriel froze, his heart almost stopping as his eyes widened slightly. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

Y/n blinked, her breath catching. She wasn’t sure if she'd heard him correctly, or if she wanted to. Ignoring the comment, she focused on the conversation at hand instead. “I’ll think about your offer.”

Azriel exhaled quietly, relief briefly crossing his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that kind of fear before. What’s going on with me? he thought to himself.

With a nod, he turned back to his training. Y/n did not run away from him like she always did. This time she stayed and they trained in silence.

The sun was already rising by the time they stopped, its first rays spilling across the roof. Y/n groaned softly, lowering her sword and stretching her sore arms.

“I probably won’t be able to train with your brother today. I can’t feel my arms.”

Azriel sheathed his sword, his lips twitching. “I can vouch for you if you want.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’d be weird.”

“How so?”

“Because the General is the General,” she replied, as if it were obvious. “If I go up to him and say I can’t practice today because I’m sore, he’ll ask why. And then you’d show up and say, ‘because we were practicing all night long.’” She arched a brow. “How do you think that would sound to him?”

Azriel’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly and for a moment, he actually looked flustered. “I see how that might sound…” he muttered. “So what are you going to tell him?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’ll probably just tell him I was practicing all night. He doesn’t need to know all the details.”

“Right,” Azriel nodded. “That’s for the best.”

“Besides,” she added, starting to ramble, “I think he’d be a little jealous. Seeing as I told him I wasn’t ready to train with him yet, and then we went and did exactly that.”

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he agreed, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you when I see you.” She turned to leave.

“Good night, Troublemaker,” he murmured, watching her go.

She paused at the doorway, glancing back at him. “Is that your new nickname for me now?”

Azriel smiled faintly, his shadows curling lazily around him. “I’ve had it for a while.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Sweet dreams, Shadowsinger,” she replied softly before slipping out of sight.

Azriel stood there for a moment longer, staring at where she’d disappeared. His hand grazed the hilt of his sword as her parting words echoed in his mind. He let out a slow breath, then finally turned to resume his training.

—

“I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but I have to ask, do you still have your powers?” Cassian asked during one of their sessions.

Y/n’s movements faltered, her brows knitting together. “Why does it matter?”

“Because if you do, it’s dangerous to keep them unchecked.”

She huffed, resuming her stance. “Even if I did still have my powers, which I’m not saying I do, nothing’s happened so far.”

“As you said, so far,” he pressed, his voice firm but not unkind. “But we all know what happens when you’re overwhelmed.”

“Let’s just get back to training,” she snapped, her tone leaving little room for argument.

“Y/n, it’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt.”

“I didn’t say I have powers,” she retorted sharply. “Just drop it.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, his worry clear. “Just promise me, if you feel them coming back, you’ll tell me.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” She halted mid-movement, fixing him with a glare. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be,” she said, her voice colder now. “I’m not a ticking time bomb.”

“That you know of,” he replied, his tone edging toward frustration.

Y/n’s patience snapped. “Seriously, what is your problem?”

“Nesta still has her power,” he admitted quietly.

Her expression darkened, and her voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Of course. Fucking Nesta! Why do you keep thinking that whatever she might do or have, I might as well?”

“Because that’s usually what happens,” Cassian said, pressing further. “You both are hotheaded, with tempers to match. You both took something from the Cauldron. You both have a way of pushing people away and saying hurtful things. Not to mention, you both shared similar bad habits after the war.”

“Do not compare her to me,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s a much better person than I am, and we’re far more different than you think us to be.”

Before Cassian could reply, Y/n stormed off, leaving their session unfinished.

Y/n went straight to the library to unwind, her heart still pounding from the argument. Gwyn greeted her with a warm smile and recommended another book.

It wasn’t long before Y/n seelted into her usual spot, tucked away in the quiet depth of the library— the same place she had first discovered its solace. Bryaxis was no longer there, so that level should be safe, or so she thought.

She was aware Nesta was somewhere nearby, but thankfully, they didn’t cross paths.

She opened the book, letting its pages pull her into another world. But as she read, the quiet began to shift. A voice, faint at first, began to call her name. Again and again, the sound reverberated through the space.

Y/n stilled, shivers crawling up her spine. She tried to ignore it, focus on the words in front of her, but it was as if her body had other plans. Slowly, unwillingly, she stood.

The voice pulled her closer, an invisible string drawing her toward the darkness of the lower levels. Her steps were slow, hesitant, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t resist it. It wasn’t Bryaxis’ voice; she knew that much. This was darker, colder.

She halted just before the staircase. The voice whispered to her still, tempting her forward.

Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around. Her breath caught as she found herself face- to-face with Azriel. Too close. He was too close, his face mere inches from hers. When she took in his features, she realized his breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run all the way to reach her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.

Azriel didn’t answer right away, his shadows swarming protectively around them. His grip on her arm was firm, his other hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side.

“Why were you going down there?” he demanded in his usual subdued voice.

Y/n blinked, the haze that had gripped her moments earlier beginning to fade. “How did you even find- never mind. I already know the answer to that question,” she muttered. “Something was calling to me. Something dark.”

Azriel’s expression turned more serious. “You shouldn’t stay in this part of the library again.”

“Why not?” she asked, her tone curious.

“The darkness is drawn to you like you are to it. Bryaxis might be gone, but there’s still darkness down there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have your shadows follow me?”

“No,” he replied. “It was a mere coincidence.” He glanced around warily. “They’re everywhere, though. And when they felt that darkness, they informed me.”

Y/n’s brows rose in mild disbelief. “You ran here?”

He nodded, reminding her. “We can’t winnow into the library.”

Y/n’s gaze flickered to his hand still wrapped around her arm. “You can let go now.”

Azriel blinked as though realizing it for the first time. He released her quickly, stepping back slightly, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Do you still have your powers?”

Her eyes sharpened at the question, a defensive edge creeping into her posture as she created a distance between them. “Did you talk to the General?”

“No, why?”

She let out a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms. “He asked me the same thing less than an hour ago.”

“I have reasons to believe the darkness was drawn to you because of your powers,” he explained, his eyes scanning her face for answers.“You should be careful.”

“You’re not going to tell me I should learn how to control it or keep it in check or whatever?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“No,” he replied simply. “I learned not to tell you what to do.”

She blinked again, caught off guard by his honesty. “At least one of you finally got the message.”

“Cassian means well,” Azriel said softly, though his tone held a hint of exasperation.

She scoffed. “He has a way of showing the opposite.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “The same way you do when you care about someone?”

Y/n froze, the words landing with more weight than she wanted to admit. She said nothing, just stared at him, the silence between them thick and charged.

Azriel didn’t push further. He simply watched her for a moment longer before his shadows receded slightly, their tension easing. “Stay away from the lower levels,” he said at last. “Promise me that.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Azriel took her silence as agreement.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he spoke softly before stepping back and turning on his heel.

Y/n remained rooted to the spot, staring at the place where he’d disappeared. Somehow, buried deep beneath her defenses, was the unsettling warmth of Azriel’s concern. Not that she’d ever acknowledge it, or admit how much it lingered.

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 14

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Cassian attempts to convince Y/n to train with him, but her stubbornness proves unshakable. However, when he leaves her with unexpected words, she finds herself grappling with an internal struggle over what to do next.

A/N: Hello! So this chapter took me much longer to update than anticipated. I'll try to have the next chapter out by the end of next week.

This chapter focuses more on Y/n and Cassian's relationship, so there aren't many interactions between Y/n and Azriel this time, though there's a 'soft' moment. But I promise, the next chapter has plenty more interactions between them.

WC: 6.5 K.

Luckily, when Cassian was done with Nesta, it was already lunchtime. By the time he finished, however, Y/n was nowhere to be found. He went to her room and knocked a couple of times.

“Tell you’re not still sleeping?” he called out. When she didn’t answer, he sighed before pounding harder on the door.

She eventually opened it, still in her nightgown and robe, her eyes half- closed and her hair disheveled. “What?” she asked groggily.

“You cannot be serious right now. Tell me you did not just wake up.”

“What do you want, asshole?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

“We have a training lesson, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

“I’m not hungry, and I told you I’m not training in that hellhole.”

Cassian exhaled sharply, clearly running out of patience. “I don’t have time for this. Meet me upstairs in ten minutes. If you’re not ready, I’ll take you in your sleeping attire. Your choice, Y/n.”

“I hate you,” she snapped before slamming the door in his face.

True to her defiant nature, Y/n ignored Cassian’s instructions and dressed in the practical gown she had worn the first time she stepped foot in the Illyrian camps. Her long braid reached the middle of her back, swinging slightly as she moved. When Cassian saw her, he raised a brow.

“Interesting choice,” he remarked, smirking. But she didn’t bother responding, brushing past him without a word.

When they arrived in Windhaven, Devlon snickered as he caught sight of her.

“Are you going to bring all our High Lady’s sisters here?” he taunted. “Or are you hoping this one won’t turn out to be a failure like the other one?”

Cassian opened his mouth to retort, but Y/n stepped forward first, her expression could have sliced through stone. “Delan, was it? I suggest you keep your remarks to yourself  if you like having a tongue.” She took a step forward, but Cassian’s arm shot out to halt her.

Devlon sneered, undeterred. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“How you choose to perceive my words is your business,” she said evenly, her voice low and calm. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before Devlon could retort, Cassian interjected, his tone a quiet warning. “I’d remind you that she’s the one who severed the King of Hybern’s head from his body… Let’s go, Y/n.” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the empty training area.

“I had that handled,” she muttered as they walked, brushing his hand off her shoulder.

“I know,” Cassian replied with a shrug. “But I didn’t want to see bloodshed yet. Besides, if you want to defeat him, you need to train.”

A few Illyrian males lingered nearby, watching them curiously as Cassian began his usual training routine. Y/n, however, ignored him entirely, sitting on the nearest rock.

Cassian frowned, pausing mid-motion. “Are you just going to sit there and watch like your sister?”

“Are you ever going to stop mentioning her whenever you’re talking to me? I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with her,” Y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

She wavered dismissively at the Illyrians who were staring at her. “There won’t be a show today, boys. You can scatter now.” They glared at her but eventually walked away, muttering among themselves.

She closed her eyes, intending to block out the world, and almost fell asleep before Casian’s voice dragged her back. “Don’t think I‘ve given up on you. Same time tomorrow. And eat something before training.”

“Not yet,” was all she said, her voice soft in a way.

“Not yet?” Cassian repeated, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“You haven’t given up on me yet, but you will.” she said, her tone detached, as if stating a fact. 

He shook his head, exhaling in frustration. “We’ll see.”

That night was no better than the one before. The nightmares returned, relentless and vivid, dragging her through the same torment. She woke up drenched in sweat, her father’s name echoing in her mind. Unable to fall back asleep, she waited for the sun to rise, staring blankly at the ceiling.

By the time Cassian came pounding on her door again, she looked worse than the day before. Her face pale, her eyes hollow. She opened the door, leaning against the frame.

“Let me guess. You’ll give me ten minutes to get ready?” she muttered hoarsely.

Cassian glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Meet me in the dining area,” was all he said before turning away.

When she finally emerged, Cassian was seated at the table, his arms crossed. He’d already eaten lunch, but he needed her to eat something. If she continued at this rate, she was going to collapse.

“Sit” he ordered.

“I’m not eating with you,” she said, arms crossing tightly as she hovered by the doorway.

“You barely have the energy to stand. Please sit,” he pleaded, changing his tone.

Reluctantly, she slid into the chair at the far end of the table. A bowl of her favorite fruits and porridge appeared in front of her the moment she sat down. How the house knew what she liked, she still didn’t know. She eyed the porridge with disdain. “I’m not eating that.” 

“You need to eat something. How else will you have the energy to argue with me?” Cassian quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t need energy for that. I’m.Not.Eating.That,” she repeated slowly, her tone biting.

“Do not make me force-feed you,” Cassian warned, his eyes narrowing.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She glared at him.

“If you won’t eat, I will. You look like crap and you’re barely functioning. I know you didn’t sleep last night. I heard your screams.”

Her gaze snapped to him at those words, but she said nothing, instead picking at the fruit in front of her. Slowly, she ate, if only to avoid continuing the conversation.

“Here,” she said after a few bites, pushing the bowl away. “I’m done. But I’m not touching that porridge.”

“Fine,” Cassian said with a sigh of resignation. “You should consider going to the library once we’re done with training.” 

“Ah, the sanctuary for broken souls,” she replied dryly, a mocking smile tugging at her lips. “No, thank you.”

Training went about as well as Cassian had expected, which was to say, not at all. Y/n remained rooted in her stubbornness, refusing to do anything beyond watching him train. Poor Cassian now found himself juggling two sisters whose tempers were as sharp as their tongues. Both equally unyielding. Both unwilling to cooperate. And worse still, he had to fly to Windhaven twice a day, only to find himself humiliated further when his efforts came to nothing.

By the third day, after another failed training session, Y/n decided to try descending the ten thousand steps. She made it  one hundred steps before her legs gave out. Faced with the choice of resting and returning to the top or continuing down, she chose the latter. 

Although it was unrealistic she’d make it to the bottom, she refused to waste her remaining strength retracing her steps. She wasn’t even thinking as she hauled herself upright again and pressed forward, step by agonizing step, driven by nothing but sheer determination, and perhaps a desire to avoid admitting defeat. 

An hour later, she was panting and trembling as she reached the two hundredth step. Her body screamed in protest, but she refused to turn back. Instead, she slumped down on the stone stair, leaning against the wall with her head tilted back. The cold air stung her skin, but she welcomed it, letting it numb the ache in her limbs. 

When Azriel returned from one of his missions, he immediately felt her absence from the house. Concern tightened his chest, and he sent his shadows to search for her. It didn’t take long for them to locate her and inform him. 

He found her slumped against the stone wall of the staircase, fast asleep. Strands of her hair had fallen across her face, softening her features despite the discomfort of her position. Her breathing was steady, peaceful even, though the setting was anything but.

Azriel’s throat tightened at the sight. She looked so fragile, her usual sharp edges dulled by exhaustion. He hesitated for a moment, afraid to disturb her. But the thought of leaving her there was unbearable. Slowly, carefully, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her as though she might break. Her head lolled against his chest, her breathing deep and even, completely unaware of his presence. If it weren’t for exhaustion, she surely would’ve woken. 

Carrying her back to her room, he lowered her carefully on the bed, mindful of every movement. As he straightened, his fingers lingered just long enough to brush a stray strand of her hair from her face. 

Her skin was still pale, her features drawn tight, as though sleep couldn’t ease the burden she carried. She looked so…empty. A pang of helplessness shot through him. Even his shadows, ever watchful, seemed unsure how to help her. 

Azriel exhaled quietly, a breath laced with frustration and something else- something raw. He just hoped, with every part of him, that tonight would be kinder to her. That for once, sleep would grant her peace instead of the nightmare he couldn’t banish. 

Her eyes opened slowly to see him staring down at her. “Shadowsinger?”

“Go back to sleep, Y/n” he said softly, offering her a faint, sad smile. 

Her eyelids drifted shut again, her mind too clouded with exhaustion to hold onto the moment. She slipped back into sleep, the warmth of his presence lingering longer than any dream ever would.. Azriel stayed for just a moment longer, watching her, her peaceful form, before retreating into the shadows.

The next morning, Y/n managed to wake up before Cassian had the chance to pound on her door. She didn’t dwell on how she’d made it back to her bed or the hazy memory of Azriel’s face- of him standing there. It had to have been a dream.

Instead, she dressed quickly and made her way to the dining room.

A plate of her favorite food appeared on the table as she sat down. It had been so long since she’d had a proper meal, let alone something she truly enjoyed. She stared at it for a moment, her appetite nonexistent, but eventually somehow forced herself to eat. 

Moments later, Cassian and Nesta entered the room, bickering as usual. Their voices cut through the silence, making her head throb. 

“You’re up early,” Cassian remarked, his surprise evident.

“Let’s just go,” she said flatly, her gaze flicking briefly to her sister before returning to him.

“We were just about to eat lunch. Since you’re already eating, let’s join you,” Cassian said, gesturing to the table.

“I’m done eating. Find me when you’re finished,” she replied dryly, standing and leaving the room before either of them could respond.

The next day was worse. Y/n couldn’t sleep, and when breakfast time rolled around, she found herself in the dining room again. This time, Azriel and Nesta were seated at the table too. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate. Nesta, clearly fuming from an argument with Cassian, stormed out moments later, her sharp footsteps echoing behind her. She didn’t spare Y/n so much as a glance.

Cassian arched a brow as he watched Y/n enter. “Even earlier than yesterday,” he remarked with a teasing smirk. “What’s going on? Already falling into good habits?” 

Azriel glanced up at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before he returned back to his tea, his movements smooth, quiet.

“If you call not sleeping at all a good habit, then sure,” Y/n muttered, her gaze flitted to Azriel for a split second before shifting away. “I didn’t think anyone else was here.” She meant Azriel…and Nesta, before she left. 

Y/n turned on her heel to leave, but Cassian’s voice stopped her. 

“I’m done eating. You can stay,” he said, pushing back his chair as he stood. 

Y/n hesitated, her shoulders stiffening. Cassian’s presence didn’t bother her as much as Azriel’s. Who knew time could change so many things? It hadn’t always been like this- Azriel’s presence suffocating her or making her feel uneasy more than comforting.

Reluctantly, she slid into the chair at the farthest end of the table, putting as much distance as possible between them. She could’ve left- almost did, but something in her refused to let him think she was avoiding him. She wouldn’t give him any reason to think her actions had anything to do with him. She could sit here, eat in silence, and prove- if only to herself, that she was unbothered. 

“I’d say good morning, but you didn’t sleep at all,” Azriel said, his tone calm, probing- but not unkind.

Y/n didn’t respond, pretending to  focus on the bowl of oats that had appeared before her.

“What I need is coffee,” she muttered to the house, but when it didn’t appear, she sighed. “Fine!” Begrudgingly, she scooped up a spoonful of oats and forced herself to take a bite. 

Azriel watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “How long are you going to ignore me for?”

“I’m not ignoring you.” At least this time she replied, her tone clipped and defensive.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “What do you call this, then?”

Y/n swallowed hard, keeping her eyes firmly on her bowl. “I just answered you, didn’t I? Or were you expecting a friendly conversation?” 

The words came out sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t stop them. What did he expect? That she’d look at him and pretend things were normal? Pretend she wasn’t trying  desperately to push him away? Every time he looked at her, it chipped away at the walls she’d so carefully rebuilt. And Y/n couldn’t let that happen.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, the flicker of frustration on his face clear before he turned away. He stood abruptly, his movements smooth but tense, and left without another word.

Y/n exhaled shakily, staring at her bowl as the silence returned.

When she finished the last bite, a cup of coffee finally appeared. Y/n huffed a small, bitter laugh. “I get it now,” she muttered, taking a sip. "I eat whatever you give me, and you reward me with whatever I want? Can I get something stronger?” 

Nothing appeared. She shrugged, leaning back in her chair with a faint smirk. “Didn’t think so. Worth a try though.”

—

“You’re going to freeze over there,” Cassian said as he tried to get her up from the rock she usually sat on. “Training will at least warm you up.”

“I prefer the cold, thank you very much,” Y/n replied with a mock smile, her voice dripping with false cheer.

But that day was colder than any other, and her thin dress did little to shield her from the biting wind. By the time they returned, the chill had settled deep in her bones. 

She woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a scratchy throat, her body aching from the cold she had undoubtedly caught. Still, she forced herself out of bed before trudging off with Cassian to Windhaven again. 

Cassian didn’t realize something was wrong until she spoke, her voice hoarse after taunting her.

“Smart move with the coat,” Cassina said, eyeing her bundled form. “But why be so stubborn? Just train with me.”

“I’d rather freeze to death,” she croaked, her voice barely audible.

“You caught a cold, didn’t you?” he tried to hide his smirk.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, though her voice was rough. “I can endure one more hour with you.”

Cassian’s smirk faded as his gaze dropped to her pale face and the bluish tinge to her lips, “I doubt that. Your lips are blue.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity. I was instructed to keep you alive,” he replied, his tone softening despite her defiance.

That day, Cassian ended the ‘lesson’ or whatever that was early, cutting it short when it became clear she wasn’t fit to keep going. Her stubbornness could only carry her so far, and judging by her sister, she was already pushing the limits. 

The next day, Cassian was called away, leaving Y/n to her own devices. He left her with a choice: either brace the cold or spend the day at Rhy’s mother’s house. She chose the latter. 

But boredom crept in quickly, and the walls of the house became suffocating. So she ventured back outside, wandering through Illyria despite the frigid air.

It wasn’t long before trouble found her. Two Illyrian males sneered at her as she passed, their words laced with mockery and insult. She stopped, warning them to watch their tongues. But when they laughed in her face and hurled even sharper insults, she didn’t hold back.

The altercation was brief but decisive. She didn’t tell anyone what had happened, but the next day, Devlon stormed over to Cassian at the training grounds, his tone sharp and accusing. 

“Keep that witch away from my warriors,” Devlon spat, his glare flicking to Y/n.

Cassian frowned, confusion creasing his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Devlon’s lips curled in disdain. “She knows exactly what I mean.”

Y/n stepped forward, her expression cool but her eyes alight with challenge. “Keep speaking to me like that, and you’ll be next.”

A low growl rumbled in Devlon’s throat, but he didn’t press further. With a final glare, he turned and walked away.

Cassian turned to Y/n, crossing his arms. “What did you do, Y/n?” 

She shrugged, inspecting her nails as though bored. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“If it wasn’t worth mentioning, Devlon wouldn’t have brought it up. What is he talking about?”

“Two of his men said something I didn’t like.”

Cassian’s brows snapped together, his voice sharper this time. “When?”

“Yesterday. While you were gone.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You left the house?” The words came out a little too loud, a mix of frustration and worry cutting through.

Y/n’s brows lifted in challenge. “Obviously. I got bored.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose as if trying to calm himself. His voice dropped, tight and edged. “I told you to stay inside, Y/n.” His words held a quiet anger, though underneath it, the weight of responsibility pressed heavy. 

“What exactly did you do?” he asked after a beat, though part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

Y/n shrugged, her tone casual, almost bored. “We had an argument.”

Cassian’s frown deepened, his concern twisting into exasperation. “And?”

“Let’s just say I won.”

Cassian raised a skeptical brow. “And they let you be?” 

Y/n’s lips curled into a faint, pointed smile. “I let them be.”

Cassian stared at her, tension still lining his frame. He didn’t know whether to be impressed, furious, or worried out of his mind. But most of all, he was frustrated- he still didn’t know what exactly she’d done to those males. “You need to be careful around here. You don;t know what these males are capable of.”

Y/n’s gaze met his, cool and unbothered. “I can take care of myself.”

Cassian let out a rough sigh, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “Clearly.”

Later, during training, three Illyrian males stood off to the side, watching and whispering as Cassian worked with Y/n. Their mocking laughter grated on her nerves. Whatever Cassian was saying faded into the background, his voice nothing but a noise as her attention zeroed in on the males. Without a word, she strode toward them, her steps deliberate and steady.

The males stilled as she approached, their sneers faltering when she spoke. “I suppose you haven’t heard about the two males who tried insulting me last time,” she said, her voice low and calm. A wicked grin curled her lips.” If you stay long enough, I can show you.”

The males paled before scattering immediately.

Cassina approached her, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “What did you say to them?” 

Y/n shrugged again, replying nonchalantly. “Nothing important.” With that, she turned and sauntered back to her spot, as if the interaction hadn’t even been worth her time.

That night, as Y/n approached the dining room, she heard raised voices. Cassian stormed out moments later, his face dark with anger. Y/n paused, turning to leave when Nesta exited next, brushing past her without a glance. 

Assuming the dining room was now empty, Y/n stepped inside and dropped into a chair, only to realize Azriel was seated at the far end of the table.

How she always ended up alone in a room with him, she did not know.

Azriel’s gaze lifted from his tea to look at her. “I heard about what happened.” Although his tone was calm, there was a chill to it that made her shift in her seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, leaning back, arms crossed.

“The Illyrians” he clarified.

She exhaled sharply, “The General told you.”

His lips twitched faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You could say that.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Are you going to lecture me about how I should be careful around them too?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and annoyance, masking the spark of unease she felt under his unwavering gaze. 

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his reply still calm and measured. “No.”

The single word surprised her.

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea before continuing. “If anything, they should be careful around you.” 

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected praise- or warning. She searched his face, wondering how much he knew. Did he only know what Cassian had told him? Or had his shadows whispered the whole truth?

His tone was lighter when he spoke again, though it carried that quiet edge he always seemed to have. “Why don’t you train with Cass?”

Y/n scoffed, the tension breaking momentarily. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

Azriel’s brow lifted faintly. “Isn’t he asking nicely?”

Her lips twisted into a faint smirk. “Your brother is anything but nice.”

Azriel’s response was quick, cutting like a blade. “Says you.”

Silence followed, thick and loaded with unspoken meaning.

Y/n’s smirk faltered, her amusement flickering as his words landed. She was no stranger to insults or cold remarks, she had heard far worse, and not once had she cared what others thought of her. Nothing they said could hurt her as much as her own words did. She was always the harshest critic, relentless and unforgiving, and she knew she deserved it. After all, she was just as cold to everyone else. 

But coming from Azriel, it struck something deeper. This was probably the first time he had called her out so bluntly, so sharply. She wasn’t used to him being cold with her. 

For a moment, she stared at him, her feelings tangled into something she couldn’t name. Was she annoyed? Pleased? Somehow, it was both, a strange tug in her chest almost made her want to laugh.

Azriel gave nothing away, his expression calm and unreadable. But his fingers stilled briefly against the teacup. He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to let the sharpness slip, but a part of him believed it, and he knew she did, too.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, settling into it as if perfectly unbothered. A slow, amused smirk crept onto her lips. 

Azriel said nothing more, returning his attention to his tea as if the conversation hadn’t even happened. But Y/n watched him carefully, the smirk lingering.

—

“We’re not going to Windhaven?” Y/n asked the next day as Cassian led her to the training ring on the roof.

“No, we’ll train here today.”

Y/n glanced around. There was no rock for her to sit on this time, no convenient excuse to settle in and watch. So, she remained standing, arms crossed.

Cassian turned to her, his tone softer, almost pleading. “Come on, train with me. Please.”

“No.” Her response was immediate, flat.

Cassian sighed, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I’ll make a bargain with you, like I did with your sister. If you train for an hour, I’ll owe you a favor.”

Y/n’s expression hardened, as she snapped. “I’m not Nesta. I don’t want your favors or bargains. Stop comparing me to her.” 

Cassian blinked at the sudden edge in her voice. 

She hated it- the constant comparison, the expectations he kept throwing at her, the shadow of heer sister always hanging between them.

“What do you want then?” he asked quietly, frustration lacing his voice.

“To stop expecting anything from me. To leave me alone, but you can’t do that, can you?”

Cassian exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He turned from her without another word and began his morning exercises. The usual banter, the coaxing words- gone. Y/n watched for  a moment, surprised by the silence before looking away.

He didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the day.

The following morning, she didn’t see Cassian and assumed she’d finally have a free day. That was until Rhys appeared. 

“You didn’t think we'd let you off that easily, did you?” Rhys said, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the doorway.

Y/n arched a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “Where’s your General? Has he finally given up on me?”

“No,” Rhys replied smoothly, stepping inside. “Something came up. He’s needed elsewhere. So today, I’ll be training with you instead.”

She snorted, disbelief flashed across her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you train.”

Rhys placed a hand over his chest and mock self-deprecation. “I admit, I’ve been slacking. But today, I’m getting back into it.”

“Good luck to you,” she replied flatly, already moving to leave. “I’m not training with you.”

Rhys tilted his head, that familiar mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. “If you train with me today, I’ll let you go into the city. Unsupervised.”

Y/n hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Tempting. But I don’t make bargains with Fae.”

“How about an unofficial deal then?”

Y/n frowned, skepticism etched on her face. “What kind of training are we talking about?”

“Basic exercises,” Rhys replied easily. “Just enough to build your muscles and stamina.”

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

“Thirty minutes,” she countered, her tone sharp.

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, you can last longer. Forty-five minutes.”

A long stare passed between them before she finally relented with a clipped, “Fine.”

And so they began. The exercises were, as promised, basic, but Y/n quickly realized how out of shape she was. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats…each one felt like torture. By the time she reached the third push-up, her arms were shaking, and she collapsed onto the ground, panting. 

Despite her protests, she powered through the session, taking frequent breaks and glaring at Rhysand each time he told her to keep going. Sit-ups were the easiest for her, but even those left her winded.

When the forty-five minutes finally ended, she stood, brushing the dust off her clothes. “When can I go into the city?”

He smiled smugly, far too pleased with himself. “Lesson one, Y/n: if you don’t make an official bargain, it doesn’t count.”

He said it lightly, a teasing joke, but the smile slipped from her face in an instant.Her expression froze, then darkened, her voice dangerously calm. “I see.” 

She clapped slowly, the sound deliberate and mocking as she stepped toward him. “So it was a lie. Well played, High Lord.” 

His smile faltered. “I was joking,” he said quickly, his tone soft.

Y/n turned on her heel, her movements cold and precise. “It doesn’t matter. Lesson learned. Never trust anyone, no matter how ‘self-righteous’ they might seem. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to-”

“Save it,” she snapped, cutting him off without looking back. “I’m not in the mood anymore. And as you said, it wasn’t official, and there were no witnesses. A failure on my part, I’ll admit.” 

With that, she strode off, her footsteps echoing through the silence. Rhys let out a quiet curse, running a hand through his hair as he watched her disappear.

That night, Y/n descended to the library. The last time she’d been here, something about the lower levels- where Bryaxis once resided had drawn her in.

A familiar priestess greeted her, the same one who had offered her assistance before. This time, Y/n knew what she wanted: an escape, something that would pull her far away from where she was- if only in her mind. 

A copper-haired priestess approached, her face visible and her steps light as she came to escort Y/n deeper into the aisles. 

Y/n hesitated before asking, “You’re not wearing the hood?”

The priestess offered a soft smile, her voice warm as she replied, “It’s not mandatory.” 

“And you can speak,” Y/n observed, her lips quirking into a faint smile.

“There are all sorts of females here,” the priestess explained. “I’d recommend this one. She handed Y/n a worn book, its edges frayed with age but well-loved. “It helped me when I wanted to feel like I was somewhere else.” 

Y/n accepted the book, her fingers brushing over the cover. “Thank you.” The words came out easier than she expected. Somehow she found herself being nice to the priestess- something she hadn’t intentionally planned.

The priestess smiled again. “Are you Y/n?” she asked gently.

Y/n tilted her head, a frown tugging at her brows. “You’ve heard of me?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Nesta might have mentioned you once or twice.”

Y/n blinked, surprise flickering across her face. “Ah.” Y/n muttered, covering her uncertainty with a shrug. “You’re familiar with my sister. Whatever bad things she said about me, they’re all true.”

The priestess’s brows furrowed slightly, her expression puzzled. “Why would you think she said anything bad about you?”

Y/n faltered. “She didn’t?”

“No. She only said nice things about you, actually.”

For a moment, Y/n couldn’t hide her surprise. The words struck something deep in her. A flicker of hurt crossed her features before she masked it again, her gaze dropping to the book in her hands. “She did?” 

“She did,” the priestess confirmed. “You seem surprised. I thought you got along.”

“We did. It’s just…we’re in an odd place right now,” Y/n admitted quietly.

“Why?” the priestess tilted her head, curiosity in her expression. But instead of pushing her away or saying it was none of her business, Y/n stayed calm.

Y/n hesitated, tensing slightly, instinctively wanting to brush the question off. Bit for some reason, she didn’t. There was no judgement in the priestess’s voice, no sharp edge or demand. Just quiet patience that made her feel like she could answer- if she wanted to

After a pause, Y/n sighed. “Some words were exchanged. Both parties were hurt.” The admission slipped out. It was the closest she’d come to acknowledging the shame she felt- the regret that had lingered since the last time she spoke to Nesta.

“She didn’t mention that.”

“Well, now you know,” Y/n replied, a small tone of shame creeping into her tone. She forced herself to meet the priestess’s eyes, half-expecting pity or judgment- not that she cared, but she found neither.

The priestess smiled instead. “I’m Gwyneth Berdara, by the way,” the priestess introduced herself. “But most people call me Gwyn.”

“Nice to meet you, Berdara,” Y/n said, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

Y/n ended up falling asleep in the library, the book cradled in her hands. When she woke, it was already the next day. She stretched stiffly, the ache in her neck reminding her she’d slept on a hard surface. 

She didn’t feel like returning upstairs, especially not after what happened with Rhys. So she stayed where she was, the silence of the library a welcome reprieve.

The book in her hands drew her back in, offering her a world far away from her own. For a while, it worked. She lost herself in its pages, her surroundings fading into nothing.

But her peace shattered when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“You’re late for training,” a certain giant brute said.

Y/n’s head snapped up to find Cassian standing there, arms crossed, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going,” she said, her tone defiant. “Unless you plan to make a scene in the library and drag me out of here by my hair, I’m staying right where I am.”

His smirk deepened as he teased. “I didn’t know our little Rhysie hurt your feelings that much.”

“He wishes,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the book in her lap.

“Then why are you hiding here?” he pressed, his tone light, though curiosity flickered in his eyes.

“I’m not hiding,” she replied sharply, flipping a page with deliberate care. “I’m busy. Go away.”

Cassian crossed the room to lean casually against a nearby table. “I wouldn’t exactly call that busy. You’re reading a book.”

“How dare you?” she quipped, mock offense in her tone as she shot him a glare. “These books are worth more than you are.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered. “I didn’t take you for a reader.”

“My entire job revolved around reading,” she muttered, her eyes skimming the lines again as though to ignore him.

“I meant for fun,” he clarified, his brows raised slightly.

“Well, it’s a new hobby of mine,” she said coolly. “Much better than your training.”

“You haven’t even given it a proper try. Now, come on, let’s go,” Cassian urged, standing upright and motioning toward the exit.

“Are you going to offer me another bargain?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. I learned my lesson,” she said flatly, her tone cutting.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, Rhys didn’t mean what he said yesterday,” he began, his voice softening.

“I don’t care what he meant or didn’t mean,” she interrupted, her eyes hardening as she kept them fixed on the page.

Cassian studied her for a moment before speaking again. “Why did you train with him but not with me?”

“Because I felt like it,” she said dismissively, turning another page without looking up.

Cassian frowned, doubt visible on his face. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe it was him. She probably hated his guts, and refusing to train with him was her way of proving she would never give him the satisfaction. So, carefully, he offered, “Would you like to train with him instead?”

“I’d rather break my legs than do that again,” she said, her voice serious.

Cassina’s frown deepened, but he pushed on. “What about Az? You could train with him.” He knew that out of the Inner Circle, he was the one she seemed to tolerate. He seemed to be the one to get through to her, when others couldn’t.

The reaction was immediate. “NO,” she snapped. The words came so quickly, her tone so raw, that Cassian blinked. She added immediately after, her voice steadier now, “If anything, I’d rather watch you train alone than him.”

Cassian’s brows lifted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, for someone who claims nothing happened between the two of you, you’re making a very good point of proving otherwise.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say to that, so she settled for glaring at him before returning her attention to her book and ignoring him.

“Alright,” Cassian said, his tone shifting. “I have a serious question for you.”

She glanced up, her brow arching warily. “What?”

“What would it take to get you to train with me? At least once?”

Y/n considered him for a moment, then replied, “Time and space.”

Cassian nodded, as though weighing her words. “Alright. I’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready. I won’t ask again.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re just going to give up?” “I’m not giving up,” he clarified. “I’m giving you what you asked for. Time and space. I’m putting my faith in you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her defenses wavering. “You’re just going to trust me like that?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll pull the same move your High Lord pulled?” her tone was almost uncertain.

“No. Because you’re not him. And I know for a fact that you keep your word. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“How generous of you,” she said with biting sarcasm. But as Cassian turned to leave, her gaze lingered on his retreating figure. 

Just as he reached the exit, she called after him, “You never said for how long.”

Cassian glanced back, his eyes understanding. “For however long you need,” he said simply. “I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.” 

And with that, he finally walked out, leaving her alone.

Cassian’s words lingered long after he’d gone. He had placed the decision entirely in her hands, a move she hadn’t seen coming. At least before, when he kept pushing and prodding, she’d had an excuse to refuse and resist. Now, the choice was hers- and that left her feeling unsettled. 

She turned back to her book, but the words blurred on the page. Cassian’s quiet faith in her, his patience, had cracked something she wasn’t ready to confront.

It was one thing to push people away when they demanded something from her. It was another thing entirely when they stepped back, when they gave her space and left it up to her to decide.

She had spent days watching Cassian train, scoffing at his persistence, telling herself that her refusal wasn’t her fault- it was his. His constant nagging and teasing. But now that he’d given her exactly what she asked for- time, space, trust, she had nothing left to blame. And that frustrated her.

Because it meant she would either floor through on her word or become like everyone else who made promises they couldn’t- wouldn’t keep. She didn’t know if she could bear to be that person. It wasn’t who she was- or at least, it hadn’t been.

Even though Cassian had said she could take all the time she needed, it still felt like a weight pressing on her shoulders. Faith, she realized, was its own kind of pressure.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Bitches will find a fictional man attractive and then immediately imagine him in situations where he is losing alarming amounts of blood

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 14

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Cassian attempts to convince Y/n to train with him, but her stubbornness proves unshakable. However, when he leaves her with unexpected words, she finds herself grappling with an internal struggle over what to do next.

A/N: Hello! So this chapter took me much longer to update than anticipated. I'll try to have the next chapter out by the end of next week.

This chapter focuses more on Y/n and Cassian's relationship, so there aren't many interactions between Y/n and Azriel this time, though there's a 'soft' moment. But I promise, the next chapter has plenty more interactions between them.

WC: 6.5 K.

Luckily, when Cassian was done with Nesta, it was already lunchtime. By the time he finished, however, Y/n was nowhere to be found. He went to her room and knocked a couple of times.

“Tell you’re not still sleeping?” he called out. When she didn’t answer, he sighed before pounding harder on the door.

She eventually opened it, still in her nightgown and robe, her eyes half- closed and her hair disheveled. “What?” she asked groggily.

“You cannot be serious right now. Tell me you did not just wake up.”

“What do you want, asshole?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

“We have a training lesson, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

“I’m not hungry, and I told you I’m not training in that hellhole.”

Cassian exhaled sharply, clearly running out of patience. “I don’t have time for this. Meet me upstairs in ten minutes. If you’re not ready, I’ll take you in your sleeping attire. Your choice, Y/n.”

“I hate you,” she snapped before slamming the door in his face.

True to her defiant nature, Y/n ignored Cassian’s instructions and dressed in the practical gown she had worn the first time she stepped foot in the Illyrian camps. Her long braid reached the middle of her back, swinging slightly as she moved. When Cassian saw her, he raised a brow.

“Interesting choice,” he remarked, smirking. But she didn’t bother responding, brushing past him without a word.

When they arrived in Windhaven, Devlon snickered as he caught sight of her.

“Are you going to bring all our High Lady’s sisters here?” he taunted. “Or are you hoping this one won’t turn out to be a failure like the other one?”

Cassian opened his mouth to retort, but Y/n stepped forward first, her expression could have sliced through stone. “Delan, was it? I suggest you keep your remarks to yourself  if you like having a tongue.” She took a step forward, but Cassian’s arm shot out to halt her.

Devlon sneered, undeterred. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“How you choose to perceive my words is your business,” she said evenly, her voice low and calm. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before Devlon could retort, Cassian interjected, his tone a quiet warning. “I’d remind you that she’s the one who severed the King of Hybern’s head from his body… Let’s go, Y/n.” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the empty training area.

“I had that handled,” she muttered as they walked, brushing his hand off her shoulder.

“I know,” Cassian replied with a shrug. “But I didn’t want to see bloodshed yet. Besides, if you want to defeat him, you need to train.”

A few Illyrian males lingered nearby, watching them curiously as Cassian began his usual training routine. Y/n, however, ignored him entirely, sitting on the nearest rock.

Cassian frowned, pausing mid-motion. “Are you just going to sit there and watch like your sister?”

“Are you ever going to stop mentioning her whenever you’re talking to me? I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with her,” Y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

She wavered dismissively at the Illyrians who were staring at her. “There won’t be a show today, boys. You can scatter now.” They glared at her but eventually walked away, muttering among themselves.

She closed her eyes, intending to block out the world, and almost fell asleep before Casian’s voice dragged her back. “Don’t think I‘ve given up on you. Same time tomorrow. And eat something before training.”

“Not yet,” was all she said, her voice soft in a way.

“Not yet?” Cassian repeated, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“You haven’t given up on me yet, but you will.” she said, her tone detached, as if stating a fact. 

He shook his head, exhaling in frustration. “We’ll see.”

That night was no better than the one before. The nightmares returned, relentless and vivid, dragging her through the same torment. She woke up drenched in sweat, her father’s name echoing in her mind. Unable to fall back asleep, she waited for the sun to rise, staring blankly at the ceiling.

By the time Cassian came pounding on her door again, she looked worse than the day before. Her face pale, her eyes hollow. She opened the door, leaning against the frame.

“Let me guess. You’ll give me ten minutes to get ready?” she muttered hoarsely.

Cassian glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Meet me in the dining area,” was all he said before turning away.

When she finally emerged, Cassian was seated at the table, his arms crossed. He’d already eaten lunch, but he needed her to eat something. If she continued at this rate, she was going to collapse.

“Sit” he ordered.

“I’m not eating with you,” she said, arms crossing tightly as she hovered by the doorway.

“You barely have the energy to stand. Please sit,” he pleaded, changing his tone.

Reluctantly, she slid into the chair at the far end of the table. A bowl of her favorite fruits and porridge appeared in front of her the moment she sat down. How the house knew what she liked, she still didn’t know. She eyed the porridge with disdain. “I’m not eating that.” 

“You need to eat something. How else will you have the energy to argue with me?” Cassian quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t need energy for that. I’m.Not.Eating.That,” she repeated slowly, her tone biting.

“Do not make me force-feed you,” Cassian warned, his eyes narrowing.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She glared at him.

“If you won’t eat, I will. You look like crap and you’re barely functioning. I know you didn’t sleep last night. I heard your screams.”

Her gaze snapped to him at those words, but she said nothing, instead picking at the fruit in front of her. Slowly, she ate, if only to avoid continuing the conversation.

“Here,” she said after a few bites, pushing the bowl away. “I’m done. But I’m not touching that porridge.”

“Fine,” Cassian said with a sigh of resignation. “You should consider going to the library once we’re done with training.” 

“Ah, the sanctuary for broken souls,” she replied dryly, a mocking smile tugging at her lips. “No, thank you.”

Training went about as well as Cassian had expected, which was to say, not at all. Y/n remained rooted in her stubbornness, refusing to do anything beyond watching him train. Poor Cassian now found himself juggling two sisters whose tempers were as sharp as their tongues. Both equally unyielding. Both unwilling to cooperate. And worse still, he had to fly to Windhaven twice a day, only to find himself humiliated further when his efforts came to nothing.

By the third day, after another failed training session, Y/n decided to try descending the ten thousand steps. She made it  one hundred steps before her legs gave out. Faced with the choice of resting and returning to the top or continuing down, she chose the latter. 

Although it was unrealistic she’d make it to the bottom, she refused to waste her remaining strength retracing her steps. She wasn’t even thinking as she hauled herself upright again and pressed forward, step by agonizing step, driven by nothing but sheer determination, and perhaps a desire to avoid admitting defeat. 

An hour later, she was panting and trembling as she reached the two hundredth step. Her body screamed in protest, but she refused to turn back. Instead, she slumped down on the stone stair, leaning against the wall with her head tilted back. The cold air stung her skin, but she welcomed it, letting it numb the ache in her limbs. 

When Azriel returned from one of his missions, he immediately felt her absence from the house. Concern tightened his chest, and he sent his shadows to search for her. It didn’t take long for them to locate her and inform him. 

He found her slumped against the stone wall of the staircase, fast asleep. Strands of her hair had fallen across her face, softening her features despite the discomfort of her position. Her breathing was steady, peaceful even, though the setting was anything but.

Azriel’s throat tightened at the sight. She looked so fragile, her usual sharp edges dulled by exhaustion. He hesitated for a moment, afraid to disturb her. But the thought of leaving her there was unbearable. Slowly, carefully, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her as though she might break. Her head lolled against his chest, her breathing deep and even, completely unaware of his presence. If it weren’t for exhaustion, she surely would’ve woken. 

Carrying her back to her room, he lowered her carefully on the bed, mindful of every movement. As he straightened, his fingers lingered just long enough to brush a stray strand of her hair from her face. 

Her skin was still pale, her features drawn tight, as though sleep couldn’t ease the burden she carried. She looked so…empty. A pang of helplessness shot through him. Even his shadows, ever watchful, seemed unsure how to help her. 

Azriel exhaled quietly, a breath laced with frustration and something else- something raw. He just hoped, with every part of him, that tonight would be kinder to her. That for once, sleep would grant her peace instead of the nightmare he couldn’t banish. 

Her eyes opened slowly to see him staring down at her. “Shadowsinger?”

“Go back to sleep, Y/n” he said softly, offering her a faint, sad smile. 

Her eyelids drifted shut again, her mind too clouded with exhaustion to hold onto the moment. She slipped back into sleep, the warmth of his presence lingering longer than any dream ever would.. Azriel stayed for just a moment longer, watching her, her peaceful form, before retreating into the shadows.

The next morning, Y/n managed to wake up before Cassian had the chance to pound on her door. She didn’t dwell on how she’d made it back to her bed or the hazy memory of Azriel’s face- of him standing there. It had to have been a dream.

Instead, she dressed quickly and made her way to the dining room.

A plate of her favorite food appeared on the table as she sat down. It had been so long since she’d had a proper meal, let alone something she truly enjoyed. She stared at it for a moment, her appetite nonexistent, but eventually somehow forced herself to eat. 

Moments later, Cassian and Nesta entered the room, bickering as usual. Their voices cut through the silence, making her head throb. 

“You’re up early,” Cassian remarked, his surprise evident.

“Let’s just go,” she said flatly, her gaze flicking briefly to her sister before returning to him.

“We were just about to eat lunch. Since you’re already eating, let’s join you,” Cassian said, gesturing to the table.

“I’m done eating. Find me when you’re finished,” she replied dryly, standing and leaving the room before either of them could respond.

The next day was worse. Y/n couldn’t sleep, and when breakfast time rolled around, she found herself in the dining room again. This time, Azriel and Nesta were seated at the table too. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate. Nesta, clearly fuming from an argument with Cassian, stormed out moments later, her sharp footsteps echoing behind her. She didn’t spare Y/n so much as a glance.

Cassian arched a brow as he watched Y/n enter. “Even earlier than yesterday,” he remarked with a teasing smirk. “What’s going on? Already falling into good habits?” 

Azriel glanced up at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before he returned back to his tea, his movements smooth, quiet.

“If you call not sleeping at all a good habit, then sure,” Y/n muttered, her gaze flitted to Azriel for a split second before shifting away. “I didn’t think anyone else was here.” She meant Azriel…and Nesta, before she left. 

Y/n turned on her heel to leave, but Cassian’s voice stopped her. 

“I’m done eating. You can stay,” he said, pushing back his chair as he stood. 

Y/n hesitated, her shoulders stiffening. Cassian’s presence didn’t bother her as much as Azriel’s. Who knew time could change so many things? It hadn’t always been like this- Azriel’s presence suffocating her or making her feel uneasy more than comforting.

Reluctantly, she slid into the chair at the farthest end of the table, putting as much distance as possible between them. She could’ve left- almost did, but something in her refused to let him think she was avoiding him. She wouldn’t give him any reason to think her actions had anything to do with him. She could sit here, eat in silence, and prove- if only to herself, that she was unbothered. 

“I’d say good morning, but you didn’t sleep at all,” Azriel said, his tone calm, probing- but not unkind.

Y/n didn’t respond, pretending to  focus on the bowl of oats that had appeared before her.

“What I need is coffee,” she muttered to the house, but when it didn’t appear, she sighed. “Fine!” Begrudgingly, she scooped up a spoonful of oats and forced herself to take a bite. 

Azriel watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “How long are you going to ignore me for?”

“I’m not ignoring you.” At least this time she replied, her tone clipped and defensive.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “What do you call this, then?”

Y/n swallowed hard, keeping her eyes firmly on her bowl. “I just answered you, didn’t I? Or were you expecting a friendly conversation?” 

The words came out sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t stop them. What did he expect? That she’d look at him and pretend things were normal? Pretend she wasn’t trying  desperately to push him away? Every time he looked at her, it chipped away at the walls she’d so carefully rebuilt. And Y/n couldn’t let that happen.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, the flicker of frustration on his face clear before he turned away. He stood abruptly, his movements smooth but tense, and left without another word.

Y/n exhaled shakily, staring at her bowl as the silence returned.

When she finished the last bite, a cup of coffee finally appeared. Y/n huffed a small, bitter laugh. “I get it now,” she muttered, taking a sip. "I eat whatever you give me, and you reward me with whatever I want? Can I get something stronger?” 

Nothing appeared. She shrugged, leaning back in her chair with a faint smirk. “Didn’t think so. Worth a try though.”

—

“You’re going to freeze over there,” Cassian said as he tried to get her up from the rock she usually sat on. “Training will at least warm you up.”

“I prefer the cold, thank you very much,” Y/n replied with a mock smile, her voice dripping with false cheer.

But that day was colder than any other, and her thin dress did little to shield her from the biting wind. By the time they returned, the chill had settled deep in her bones. 

She woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a scratchy throat, her body aching from the cold she had undoubtedly caught. Still, she forced herself out of bed before trudging off with Cassian to Windhaven again. 

Cassian didn’t realize something was wrong until she spoke, her voice hoarse after taunting her.

“Smart move with the coat,” Cassina said, eyeing her bundled form. “But why be so stubborn? Just train with me.”

“I’d rather freeze to death,” she croaked, her voice barely audible.

“You caught a cold, didn’t you?” he tried to hide his smirk.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, though her voice was rough. “I can endure one more hour with you.”

Cassian’s smirk faded as his gaze dropped to her pale face and the bluish tinge to her lips, “I doubt that. Your lips are blue.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity. I was instructed to keep you alive,” he replied, his tone softening despite her defiance.

That day, Cassian ended the ‘lesson’ or whatever that was early, cutting it short when it became clear she wasn’t fit to keep going. Her stubbornness could only carry her so far, and judging by her sister, she was already pushing the limits. 

The next day, Cassian was called away, leaving Y/n to her own devices. He left her with a choice: either brace the cold or spend the day at Rhy’s mother’s house. She chose the latter. 

But boredom crept in quickly, and the walls of the house became suffocating. So she ventured back outside, wandering through Illyria despite the frigid air.

It wasn’t long before trouble found her. Two Illyrian males sneered at her as she passed, their words laced with mockery and insult. She stopped, warning them to watch their tongues. But when they laughed in her face and hurled even sharper insults, she didn’t hold back.

The altercation was brief but decisive. She didn’t tell anyone what had happened, but the next day, Devlon stormed over to Cassian at the training grounds, his tone sharp and accusing. 

“Keep that witch away from my warriors,” Devlon spat, his glare flicking to Y/n.

Cassian frowned, confusion creasing his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Devlon’s lips curled in disdain. “She knows exactly what I mean.”

Y/n stepped forward, her expression cool but her eyes alight with challenge. “Keep speaking to me like that, and you’ll be next.”

A low growl rumbled in Devlon’s throat, but he didn’t press further. With a final glare, he turned and walked away.

Cassian turned to Y/n, crossing his arms. “What did you do, Y/n?” 

She shrugged, inspecting her nails as though bored. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“If it wasn’t worth mentioning, Devlon wouldn’t have brought it up. What is he talking about?”

“Two of his men said something I didn’t like.”

Cassian’s brows snapped together, his voice sharper this time. “When?”

“Yesterday. While you were gone.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You left the house?” The words came out a little too loud, a mix of frustration and worry cutting through.

Y/n’s brows lifted in challenge. “Obviously. I got bored.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose as if trying to calm himself. His voice dropped, tight and edged. “I told you to stay inside, Y/n.” His words held a quiet anger, though underneath it, the weight of responsibility pressed heavy. 

“What exactly did you do?” he asked after a beat, though part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

Y/n shrugged, her tone casual, almost bored. “We had an argument.”

Cassian’s frown deepened, his concern twisting into exasperation. “And?”

“Let’s just say I won.”

Cassian raised a skeptical brow. “And they let you be?” 

Y/n’s lips curled into a faint, pointed smile. “I let them be.”

Cassian stared at her, tension still lining his frame. He didn’t know whether to be impressed, furious, or worried out of his mind. But most of all, he was frustrated- he still didn’t know what exactly she’d done to those males. “You need to be careful around here. You don;t know what these males are capable of.”

Y/n’s gaze met his, cool and unbothered. “I can take care of myself.”

Cassian let out a rough sigh, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “Clearly.”

Later, during training, three Illyrian males stood off to the side, watching and whispering as Cassian worked with Y/n. Their mocking laughter grated on her nerves. Whatever Cassian was saying faded into the background, his voice nothing but a noise as her attention zeroed in on the males. Without a word, she strode toward them, her steps deliberate and steady.

The males stilled as she approached, their sneers faltering when she spoke. “I suppose you haven’t heard about the two males who tried insulting me last time,” she said, her voice low and calm. A wicked grin curled her lips.” If you stay long enough, I can show you.”

The males paled before scattering immediately.

Cassina approached her, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “What did you say to them?” 

Y/n shrugged again, replying nonchalantly. “Nothing important.” With that, she turned and sauntered back to her spot, as if the interaction hadn’t even been worth her time.

That night, as Y/n approached the dining room, she heard raised voices. Cassian stormed out moments later, his face dark with anger. Y/n paused, turning to leave when Nesta exited next, brushing past her without a glance. 

Assuming the dining room was now empty, Y/n stepped inside and dropped into a chair, only to realize Azriel was seated at the far end of the table.

How she always ended up alone in a room with him, she did not know.

Azriel’s gaze lifted from his tea to look at her. “I heard about what happened.” Although his tone was calm, there was a chill to it that made her shift in her seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, leaning back, arms crossed.

“The Illyrians” he clarified.

She exhaled sharply, “The General told you.”

His lips twitched faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You could say that.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Are you going to lecture me about how I should be careful around them too?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and annoyance, masking the spark of unease she felt under his unwavering gaze. 

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his reply still calm and measured. “No.”

The single word surprised her.

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea before continuing. “If anything, they should be careful around you.” 

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected praise- or warning. She searched his face, wondering how much he knew. Did he only know what Cassian had told him? Or had his shadows whispered the whole truth?

His tone was lighter when he spoke again, though it carried that quiet edge he always seemed to have. “Why don’t you train with Cass?”

Y/n scoffed, the tension breaking momentarily. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

Azriel’s brow lifted faintly. “Isn’t he asking nicely?”

Her lips twisted into a faint smirk. “Your brother is anything but nice.”

Azriel’s response was quick, cutting like a blade. “Says you.”

Silence followed, thick and loaded with unspoken meaning.

Y/n’s smirk faltered, her amusement flickering as his words landed. She was no stranger to insults or cold remarks, she had heard far worse, and not once had she cared what others thought of her. Nothing they said could hurt her as much as her own words did. She was always the harshest critic, relentless and unforgiving, and she knew she deserved it. After all, she was just as cold to everyone else. 

But coming from Azriel, it struck something deeper. This was probably the first time he had called her out so bluntly, so sharply. She wasn’t used to him being cold with her. 

For a moment, she stared at him, her feelings tangled into something she couldn’t name. Was she annoyed? Pleased? Somehow, it was both, a strange tug in her chest almost made her want to laugh.

Azriel gave nothing away, his expression calm and unreadable. But his fingers stilled briefly against the teacup. He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to let the sharpness slip, but a part of him believed it, and he knew she did, too.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, settling into it as if perfectly unbothered. A slow, amused smirk crept onto her lips. 

Azriel said nothing more, returning his attention to his tea as if the conversation hadn’t even happened. But Y/n watched him carefully, the smirk lingering.

—

“We’re not going to Windhaven?” Y/n asked the next day as Cassian led her to the training ring on the roof.

“No, we’ll train here today.”

Y/n glanced around. There was no rock for her to sit on this time, no convenient excuse to settle in and watch. So, she remained standing, arms crossed.

Cassian turned to her, his tone softer, almost pleading. “Come on, train with me. Please.”

“No.” Her response was immediate, flat.

Cassian sighed, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I’ll make a bargain with you, like I did with your sister. If you train for an hour, I’ll owe you a favor.”

Y/n’s expression hardened, as she snapped. “I’m not Nesta. I don’t want your favors or bargains. Stop comparing me to her.” 

Cassian blinked at the sudden edge in her voice. 

She hated it- the constant comparison, the expectations he kept throwing at her, the shadow of heer sister always hanging between them.

“What do you want then?” he asked quietly, frustration lacing his voice.

“To stop expecting anything from me. To leave me alone, but you can’t do that, can you?”

Cassian exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He turned from her without another word and began his morning exercises. The usual banter, the coaxing words- gone. Y/n watched for  a moment, surprised by the silence before looking away.

He didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the day.

The following morning, she didn’t see Cassian and assumed she’d finally have a free day. That was until Rhys appeared. 

“You didn’t think we'd let you off that easily, did you?” Rhys said, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the doorway.

Y/n arched a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “Where’s your General? Has he finally given up on me?”

“No,” Rhys replied smoothly, stepping inside. “Something came up. He’s needed elsewhere. So today, I’ll be training with you instead.”

She snorted, disbelief flashed across her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you train.”

Rhys placed a hand over his chest and mock self-deprecation. “I admit, I’ve been slacking. But today, I’m getting back into it.”

“Good luck to you,” she replied flatly, already moving to leave. “I’m not training with you.”

Rhys tilted his head, that familiar mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. “If you train with me today, I’ll let you go into the city. Unsupervised.”

Y/n hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Tempting. But I don’t make bargains with Fae.”

“How about an unofficial deal then?”

Y/n frowned, skepticism etched on her face. “What kind of training are we talking about?”

“Basic exercises,” Rhys replied easily. “Just enough to build your muscles and stamina.”

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

“Thirty minutes,” she countered, her tone sharp.

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, you can last longer. Forty-five minutes.”

A long stare passed between them before she finally relented with a clipped, “Fine.”

And so they began. The exercises were, as promised, basic, but Y/n quickly realized how out of shape she was. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats…each one felt like torture. By the time she reached the third push-up, her arms were shaking, and she collapsed onto the ground, panting. 

Despite her protests, she powered through the session, taking frequent breaks and glaring at Rhysand each time he told her to keep going. Sit-ups were the easiest for her, but even those left her winded.

When the forty-five minutes finally ended, she stood, brushing the dust off her clothes. “When can I go into the city?”

He smiled smugly, far too pleased with himself. “Lesson one, Y/n: if you don’t make an official bargain, it doesn’t count.”

He said it lightly, a teasing joke, but the smile slipped from her face in an instant.Her expression froze, then darkened, her voice dangerously calm. “I see.” 

She clapped slowly, the sound deliberate and mocking as she stepped toward him. “So it was a lie. Well played, High Lord.” 

His smile faltered. “I was joking,” he said quickly, his tone soft.

Y/n turned on her heel, her movements cold and precise. “It doesn’t matter. Lesson learned. Never trust anyone, no matter how ‘self-righteous’ they might seem. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to-”

“Save it,” she snapped, cutting him off without looking back. “I’m not in the mood anymore. And as you said, it wasn’t official, and there were no witnesses. A failure on my part, I’ll admit.” 

With that, she strode off, her footsteps echoing through the silence. Rhys let out a quiet curse, running a hand through his hair as he watched her disappear.

That night, Y/n descended to the library. The last time she’d been here, something about the lower levels- where Bryaxis once resided had drawn her in.

A familiar priestess greeted her, the same one who had offered her assistance before. This time, Y/n knew what she wanted: an escape, something that would pull her far away from where she was- if only in her mind. 

A copper-haired priestess approached, her face visible and her steps light as she came to escort Y/n deeper into the aisles. 

Y/n hesitated before asking, “You’re not wearing the hood?”

The priestess offered a soft smile, her voice warm as she replied, “It’s not mandatory.” 

“And you can speak,” Y/n observed, her lips quirking into a faint smile.

“There are all sorts of females here,” the priestess explained. “I’d recommend this one. She handed Y/n a worn book, its edges frayed with age but well-loved. “It helped me when I wanted to feel like I was somewhere else.” 

Y/n accepted the book, her fingers brushing over the cover. “Thank you.” The words came out easier than she expected. Somehow she found herself being nice to the priestess- something she hadn’t intentionally planned.

The priestess smiled again. “Are you Y/n?” she asked gently.

Y/n tilted her head, a frown tugging at her brows. “You’ve heard of me?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Nesta might have mentioned you once or twice.”

Y/n blinked, surprise flickering across her face. “Ah.” Y/n muttered, covering her uncertainty with a shrug. “You’re familiar with my sister. Whatever bad things she said about me, they’re all true.”

The priestess’s brows furrowed slightly, her expression puzzled. “Why would you think she said anything bad about you?”

Y/n faltered. “She didn’t?”

“No. She only said nice things about you, actually.”

For a moment, Y/n couldn’t hide her surprise. The words struck something deep in her. A flicker of hurt crossed her features before she masked it again, her gaze dropping to the book in her hands. “She did?” 

“She did,” the priestess confirmed. “You seem surprised. I thought you got along.”

“We did. It’s just…we’re in an odd place right now,” Y/n admitted quietly.

“Why?” the priestess tilted her head, curiosity in her expression. But instead of pushing her away or saying it was none of her business, Y/n stayed calm.

Y/n hesitated, tensing slightly, instinctively wanting to brush the question off. Bit for some reason, she didn’t. There was no judgement in the priestess’s voice, no sharp edge or demand. Just quiet patience that made her feel like she could answer- if she wanted to

After a pause, Y/n sighed. “Some words were exchanged. Both parties were hurt.” The admission slipped out. It was the closest she’d come to acknowledging the shame she felt- the regret that had lingered since the last time she spoke to Nesta.

“She didn’t mention that.”

“Well, now you know,” Y/n replied, a small tone of shame creeping into her tone. She forced herself to meet the priestess’s eyes, half-expecting pity or judgment- not that she cared, but she found neither.

The priestess smiled instead. “I’m Gwyneth Berdara, by the way,” the priestess introduced herself. “But most people call me Gwyn.”

“Nice to meet you, Berdara,” Y/n said, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

Y/n ended up falling asleep in the library, the book cradled in her hands. When she woke, it was already the next day. She stretched stiffly, the ache in her neck reminding her she’d slept on a hard surface. 

She didn’t feel like returning upstairs, especially not after what happened with Rhys. So she stayed where she was, the silence of the library a welcome reprieve.

The book in her hands drew her back in, offering her a world far away from her own. For a while, it worked. She lost herself in its pages, her surroundings fading into nothing.

But her peace shattered when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“You’re late for training,” a certain giant brute said.

Y/n’s head snapped up to find Cassian standing there, arms crossed, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going,” she said, her tone defiant. “Unless you plan to make a scene in the library and drag me out of here by my hair, I’m staying right where I am.”

His smirk deepened as he teased. “I didn’t know our little Rhysie hurt your feelings that much.”

“He wishes,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the book in her lap.

“Then why are you hiding here?” he pressed, his tone light, though curiosity flickered in his eyes.

“I’m not hiding,” she replied sharply, flipping a page with deliberate care. “I’m busy. Go away.”

Cassian crossed the room to lean casually against a nearby table. “I wouldn’t exactly call that busy. You’re reading a book.”

“How dare you?” she quipped, mock offense in her tone as she shot him a glare. “These books are worth more than you are.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered. “I didn’t take you for a reader.”

“My entire job revolved around reading,” she muttered, her eyes skimming the lines again as though to ignore him.

“I meant for fun,” he clarified, his brows raised slightly.

“Well, it’s a new hobby of mine,” she said coolly. “Much better than your training.”

“You haven’t even given it a proper try. Now, come on, let’s go,” Cassian urged, standing upright and motioning toward the exit.

“Are you going to offer me another bargain?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. I learned my lesson,” she said flatly, her tone cutting.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, Rhys didn’t mean what he said yesterday,” he began, his voice softening.

“I don’t care what he meant or didn’t mean,” she interrupted, her eyes hardening as she kept them fixed on the page.

Cassian studied her for a moment before speaking again. “Why did you train with him but not with me?”

“Because I felt like it,” she said dismissively, turning another page without looking up.

Cassian frowned, doubt visible on his face. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe it was him. She probably hated his guts, and refusing to train with him was her way of proving she would never give him the satisfaction. So, carefully, he offered, “Would you like to train with him instead?”

“I’d rather break my legs than do that again,” she said, her voice serious.

Cassina’s frown deepened, but he pushed on. “What about Az? You could train with him.” He knew that out of the Inner Circle, he was the one she seemed to tolerate. He seemed to be the one to get through to her, when others couldn’t.

The reaction was immediate. “NO,” she snapped. The words came so quickly, her tone so raw, that Cassian blinked. She added immediately after, her voice steadier now, “If anything, I’d rather watch you train alone than him.”

Cassian’s brows lifted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, for someone who claims nothing happened between the two of you, you’re making a very good point of proving otherwise.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say to that, so she settled for glaring at him before returning her attention to her book and ignoring him.

“Alright,” Cassian said, his tone shifting. “I have a serious question for you.”

She glanced up, her brow arching warily. “What?”

“What would it take to get you to train with me? At least once?”

Y/n considered him for a moment, then replied, “Time and space.”

Cassian nodded, as though weighing her words. “Alright. I’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready. I won’t ask again.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re just going to give up?” “I’m not giving up,” he clarified. “I’m giving you what you asked for. Time and space. I’m putting my faith in you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her defenses wavering. “You’re just going to trust me like that?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll pull the same move your High Lord pulled?” her tone was almost uncertain.

“No. Because you’re not him. And I know for a fact that you keep your word. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“How generous of you,” she said with biting sarcasm. But as Cassian turned to leave, her gaze lingered on his retreating figure. 

Just as he reached the exit, she called after him, “You never said for how long.”

Cassian glanced back, his eyes understanding. “For however long you need,” he said simply. “I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.” 

And with that, he finally walked out, leaving her alone.

Cassian’s words lingered long after he’d gone. He had placed the decision entirely in her hands, a move she hadn’t seen coming. At least before, when he kept pushing and prodding, she’d had an excuse to refuse and resist. Now, the choice was hers- and that left her feeling unsettled. 

She turned back to her book, but the words blurred on the page. Cassian’s quiet faith in her, his patience, had cracked something she wasn’t ready to confront.

It was one thing to push people away when they demanded something from her. It was another thing entirely when they stepped back, when they gave her space and left it up to her to decide.

She had spent days watching Cassian train, scoffing at his persistence, telling herself that her refusal wasn’t her fault- it was his. His constant nagging and teasing. But now that he’d given her exactly what she asked for- time, space, trust, she had nothing left to blame. And that frustrated her.

Because it meant she would either floor through on her word or become like everyone else who made promises they couldn’t- wouldn’t keep. She didn’t know if she could bear to be that person. It wasn’t who she was- or at least, it hadn’t been.

Even though Cassian had said she could take all the time she needed, it still felt like a weight pressing on her shoulders. Faith, she realized, was its own kind of pressure.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

I need you to know that I read part 13 right before getting on a plane and I literally thought about it the entire flight. The way you write is absolutely amazing

Thank you so much 🥹 You have no idea how much this means to me, and you just made my day 💜

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 13

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: As Y/n spirals out of control, Feyre steps in, forcing a change that leaves the sisters at odds.

Warnings: substance abuse, mention of death, trauma, angst.

WC: 4 K.

A knock sounded on Y/n’s door. Then another, and another, insistent, until she finally opened it. She was high as hell on some new drug when she saw Azriel standing in the hallway. Squinting, she rubbed her eyes. 

“Am I hallucinating, or are you really here?” Her voice was languid, tinged with disbelief.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, scanning her face. “What the hell did you take?”

Y/n shrugged, swaying slightly. “What do you want? I think it’s too early in the morning. I just fell asleep. Come back another time.” She moved to close the door.

A groan sounded from her living room, low and slurred. Azriel’s brow furrowed as he glanced past her. “Who’s in there?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a lazy shrug, her lips curling into a careless smile. “I don’t usually let anyone stay over. I guess whatever I took was good enough to make me forget.” She let out a giggle, her hand hovering over the door as she moved to shut it again. But before she could, Azriel’s foot slipped into the gap, holding the door open. His expression hardened as he stepped inside, casting a critical gaze around the dim room.  This was the first time he’d been here, though there wasn’t much to see.The sparse, cluttered apartment revealed little about her, save for the state of the coffee table, scattered with substances potent enough to kill with a single wrong dose. He wasn’t sure if she was lucky or if she hadn’t taken much, but judging by the state she was in, he guessed it was the former.

On her couch lay a male, barely conscious, his eyes glazed. But one piercing look from Azriel sent him scrambling out the door. Y/n pouted, throwing herself onto the couch where the male had been seconds earlier. 

“Aww, you scared the poor thing,” she murmured with a mock scold. 

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “What the hell is this, Y/n?” He gestured to the array of vials and powders on the table. A flicker of anger shadowed his eyes, tinged with something close to concern. She shrugged.

“Feyre wants you at the house,” he informed her, his voice taut.

“Which one? Doesn’t she, like, own a dozen?” she replied with an eye roll.

“The new one.”

She smirked, “And why send their lap dog? Couldn’t she have come herself?”

His gaze darkened. “Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court. She has more important things to do.”

“Since this is not important, she can come another day. When she’s not so busy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some sleep,” she muttered, closing her eyes and sinking back into the cushions.

“That’s not happening. I was specifically instructed to get you there by nine.”

She cracked one eye open, glancing at him with feigned irritation. “What time is it now?”

“Seven.”

“Then let me sleep for two hours, and then we can go.” She closed her eyes again.

Azriel folded his arms. “You need to look… presentable.”

“Fine. Whatever. Leave, and I’ll be ready by then,” she grumbled, rolling onto her side.

“The moment I leave, you’re going to fall asleep again.”

She huffed, opening her eyes fully to glare at him. “Fine. What will it take for you to stop talking?”

“You need to take a bath,” he replied, his voice still firm, ignoring her question.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Well, I’m not doing that while you’re standing here.”

He sighed, his expression exasperated. “I’ll get you some food. Just be done when I get back.”

When he returned with breakfast, she was nowhere in sight. He assumed she was still in the bathing chamber and set the food on the small table before scanning her chaotic apartment. Fifteen minutes passed, and concern began to cloud his patience. He knocked on the bathing chamber door, once, twice, three times. There was no answer. Then he asked, his voice tinged with worry.  “Y/n, are you in there? I’m coming in.”

She finally spoke, her tone sharp. “Don’t you dare.”

He exhaled, relief barely masking his frustration. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Mother above, I was just relaxing,” came her indignant reply.

“Be out in five minutes,” he ordered.

Her laughter was faintly mocking. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Azriel’s patience thinned, his tone sharpening. He was done playing her little games “Let me make this clear: if you’re not out in five minutes, I will have to come in and get you.”

“You’re such a brute,” she muttered, but after a pause, he heard movement. 

She emerged a few moments later, dressed and looking marginally more awake. He handed her a cup of tea, his expression still neutral.

“Did you put poison in it?” she quipped, an eyebrow raised.

“If I wanted you dead, that wouldn’t be the way I’d go about it,” he replied dryly.

She chuckled, amused. “Oh? And how would you do it? Please, do tell.” 

Azriel’s eyes lingered on her, a brief flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“What’s there left to care about?” she replied, her voice hollow. “And if you say my sisters, I will electrocute you.”

“You still have your powers?” His question was calm, but his eyes searched hers intently.

Her gaze shifted, guarded. “That is none of your business.”

—

The riverfront house loomed before them, its elegant structure casting long shadows under the morning sun. Y/n gazed up at it with a flicker of disdain. She had been here only once before, when Feyre had shown her around during its construction. They even had a room made for her, not that she’d appreciate it.

The rooms had felt cold and empty then, even with her sister’s warmth. Now, they felt like a cage.

Azriel led her inside without a word, his pace brisk and purposeful. The scent of fresh wood and lavender filled the air, but it only heightened her unease. The inside was as pristine and lifeless as she remembered. Her gaze flicked over the walls adorned with portraits, smiling faces of people she knew. But there were none of her, none of Nesta, and none of their mother. She felt the absence like a sharp knife to her chest. 

Y/n loved her mother dearly. With her, she had been different—kind, caring. Everything a mother should be. At least, that’s how Y/n remembered her. She had been four and a half when her mother had Nesta, and even at a young age, Y/n could recall how happy her mother had been before marrying her sisters’ father. He hadn’t been horrible to her; on the contrary, he had given her a luxurious life and loved her deeply. But she did not love him. She had married him for stability, and for Y/n’s sake, and then she had his children.

Although her mother grew colder with time, Y/n never felt the brunt of it. She had been her favorite, her constant, and she knew from a young age that she was destined to grow into a stubborn woman. Her mother had believed Elain would marry for love—she looked like a doll, after all. She trained Nesta to marry a prince and mostly ignored Feyre. Y/n, however, was simply allowed to be. She had been spoiled, indulged, never told no.

She had enjoyed dressing up, but not the attention that came with it. Balls were tolerated, not loved. She would attend one or two with her mother, then leave the rest for Nesta. She even endured dancing and etiquette lessons with her sister but never stayed long enough for them to leave an impression. They just didn’t interest her. What did interest her was adventure—exploring new places, finding hidden corners of their world. She had done that with her childhood friend. But that was a story for another time.

The scent of lavender snapped her back to the present, clashing with the memories that swirled like smoke in her mind. Those fleeting moments of joy and comfort felt so distant now, their warmth overshadowed by the cold reality of the house she now stood in.

Azriel led her into the spacious sitting room, where Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and Cassian were gathered, their expressions expectant. 

Y/n leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

“So, this is what kept you too busy to fetch me yourself?” Her tone was cutting, her gaze flicking to Feyre.

Rhys bristled immediately. “She doesn’t have to answer to you,” he snapped.

Feyre rested a calming hand on his arm, but her gaze remained steady on her sister. “You look like hell. I heard you had a rough night.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smirk widening. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is,” Amren interjected, her voice like steel. “When you spend exorbitant sums on substances and parties...You and your sister.” She shook her head, clearly disappointed.

Y/n scoffed, ignoring her, and flicked her gaze back to Feyre. “Why is she even here?” 

“We’re here to have a discussion with you,” Feyre said evenly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. “We? I don’t want to discuss anything with you.”

“You will sit and listen,” Rhys ordered, his voice cold.

Her posture straightened, her smirk vanishing. “Do not tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you.” Her words were sharp, deliberate, and the tension in the room rose several notches. 

Cassian exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath. “Mother above. You are just like your sister.” 

Y/n turned to glare at him, her voice dripping with venom, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Yet here you are, panting after her like a stray dog.”

“That is enough,” Feyre said sharply, her authority cutting through the brewing argument, before Cassian could respond. She turned to look at Rhys and the others. “I told you to keep out of it. You can either leave or stay and keep your mouths shut.” Then she focused on her sister again. “Y/n, you need to make some changes.”

“Like hell I do,” Y/n shot back.

Feyre softened her tone, standing up and taking a step closer. “Listen, I know you’ve had it rough. I understand how you’re feeling-”

“You understand nothing about how I’m feeling,” Y/n interrupted, her voice rising.

“Then talk to me,” Feyre pleaded. “Tell me.”

“I’d rather drown myself,” Y/n spat, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Feyre’s expression hardened. “And that’s exactly why things are going to have to change. Starting now.”

“Oh?” Y/n arched a brow, her smirk icy. “You think you can do anything about it?” 

Feyre squared her shoulders, her voice steady. “The life you’ve been living the past year is over. You will move to the House of Wind and train with Cassian and Nesta in Windhaven.”

A snort escaped Y/n as she shook her head. “Is this a joke?”

“No,” Feyre said. “Elain is packing your things as we speak. You’ll move in after this meeting.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Amren’s sharp voice cut through. “This is not up for negotiation.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, her defiance unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

“You’ll either go to the House of Wind or back to the mortal lands, Amren replied coldly, offering her the same deal they had offered Nesta.

“That’s not an option,” Feyre clarified quickly, casting a warning glance at Amren. Apparently, they forgot to mention to Amren that Y/n is not like Nesta. When it came to her pride, Y/n’s was a fortress, unyielding and absolute; she would sooner die than  allow anyone to tear her down. And seeing as she had wanted to leave long before the war with Hybern, this wasn’t an option. If they thought the threat of the mortal lands would deter her, they were sorely mistaken- she’d choose them in a heartbeat, and Feyre knew that.

Y/n’s grin returned, but it was colder, crueler. “Interesting. It’s like you knew what I’d choose.” She turned her mocking gaze to Feyre. “I’m not going back to that house.”

Feyre faltered for a moment. “Well, you can’t go back to your apartment either. You’ve burned through all your money,” Amren interjected coolly.

“Amren-” Feyre warned, her tone low, but Y/n cut her off.

“That’s fine,” Y/n said with a careless shrug. “There are plenty of ways to make money.”

“Rhys offered you so many positions, and you turned down every single one,” Feyre reminded her, her voice tight with frustration.

“And I never will. I will not work for your mate,” Y/n replied with a sneer.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” Cassian muttered. “Rhys could have every employer in Velaris turn you away with a single word.”

Y/n’s sharp gaze shifted to him, looking him up and down like he was nothing, a dangerous smile tugging at her lips. “And you think that would be a problem for me?” 

“I know it wouldn’t,” Feyre interjected. “And I know you’d rather go back to the mortal lands than face any of us or your problems, which is why that is not an option.”

Y/n’s smirk twisted, colder now. “Well, I’ll just walk there then.”

“Again, not an option,” Feyre repeated.

“So, what? You’re going to drag me to the House of Wind against my will?” Y/n’s voice dripped with mockery., her arms crossing tighter over her chest.

“If that’s what it takes,” Rhys said, his tone calm but his jaw tight with restraint.

“Lo and behold,” Y/n clapped her hands slowly, her smirk sharp. “The people fighting for freedom and free will are the same people who want to lock me up. Magnificent. Could’ve fooled me with that act.”

“Y/n, you’re not well,” Feyre pressed, her voice soft . “We’re not keeping you a prisoner.”

Y/n let out a short, bitter laugh. “Coming from the girl who let her ex lock her up for months and stayed with him? I don’t think you understand the definition of being a prisoner.”

“Do not talk to your sister like that,” Rhys said, his voice lowering as he rose up from his seat and took a step forward, his tone darkening. 

“Oh, so you and your self-righteous clowns are allowed to say and do whatever you like, but when someone else gives you a taste of your own medicine, you can’t handle it?” Y/n’s sharp gaze darted between Rhys and Feyre, her words deliberate.

Feyre took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Y/n, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Y/n shot back, her words biting. “You’d just tell me to move in with that brute and Nesta, that I’d have no say in the matter, and I’d just thank you for it?”

“I- I didn’t want it to come to this,” Feyre stammered, the weight of her words visible in her expression. “But with the amount of money you’ve spent on your nightly activities-”

“Oh! There it is.” Y/n cut her off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You’re saying I owe you, aren’t you?”

Feyre flinched at the accusation but didn’t back down. She didn’t want to say that, but she knew  it was the only way Y/n would stay. If she felt like she owed someone a debt. So, she nodded.

“Because my life wasn’t enough for you. My help wasn’t enough?” Y/n’s said, her voice low, dripping with venom. “Fine, you got what you wanted. I’ll stay until my debt is paid.”

The silence that followed was heavy, every word reverberating in the space between them. Finally, Y/n’s tone dropped further, each word laced with ice. “I’d like a word with your High Lady. Alone.” This was the first time Y/n had called her sister that, the title a deliberate choice. The formality of it created a barrier, a cold, impersonal distance that made it clear just how far apart they had grown.

The others hesitated, exchanging glances, but eventually filed out of the room. Rhys lingered by the doorway, his dark gaze warning, before following the others into the hall. They stayed close to intervene, should things spiral out of control.

When it was just the two of them, Y/n spoke again. “Why the sudden care?”

“I’ve always cared, Y/n” Feyre reached out, her hand brushing her sister’s arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Y/n snapped, stepping back sharpy, her eyes blazing with something Feyre couldn’t quite name.

“Y/n, please. I’m your sister.”

“And you only remembered that now? Because I spent a little bit more than usual?” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, but her expression remained hard.

“A little more than usual?” Feyre’s tone rose slightly, the tension breaking through. “Do you know how much money that was? How embarrassed I was when Rhys got the bill-”

“So that’s what this is about?” Y/n interrupted. “I embarrassed you in front of your new family?... I think you stopped caring about us the moment you became High Fae.”

“You think I stopped caring about you?” Feyre’s voice trembled, and for a moment, the hurt in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “If I did, would I allow you to stay here, disrespect everyone, spend our money recklessly, and destroy yourself?”

“We are here because of you!” Y/n shouted, the words spilling out in anger. “Sometimes, I wonder what our lives would’ve been like if you had stayed dead.” The words left her mouth faster than she could stop them. So cold, and sharper than any blade. It was the last thing she wanted to say to her sister, but now it hung in the air, irreversible. Feyre’s face crumpled, the weight of the statement hitting her like a blow. 

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, her voice barely audible. “I guess we’ll never know.” 

Y/n turned her gaze away, her expression unreadable, but her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “Once the debt is paid,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “I want to leave. And I never want to see you again.” 

Feyre blinked, struggling to hold back tears. “Y/n, please-”

“No,” Y/n cut her off, her tone final. “We’re done.”

Y/n had perfected this- pushing away anyone who dared to show they cared about her. With those chilling words, she turned on her heel, striding to the door. She yanked it open and stepped into the hall, where the others stood waiting. Azriel’s heart ached at the sight of her in this state. He had stayed silent through it all, unable to find the right words or intervene in the confrontation. When she stepped out of the room, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of his silence pressing heavily on him.

To Cassian’s surprise, Y/n didn’t say anything when he flew her to the house. The flight was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic beat of his wings and the rush of the wind. She stared right ahead, her posture tense but her face carefully blank.

They made sure to place Nesta and Y/n on two separate floors, seeing as they weren’t on speaking terms. No one knew why, and they didn’t dare ask. Feyre hoped they’d at least train together, but Y/n made it clear that she doesn’t wish to be in the same room as her sister. 

When they landed, Cassian let her step down before speaking. “You still have your Illyrian leathers from the war? You’ll need them tomorrow,” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I’m never wearing that thing again,” Y/n replied, her tone icy.

“It’s going to be cold. You’ll need them.” He hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“You’ll be on your own floor. Nesta has settled in her old room. Mine is a level above, and Az’s is just down the hall from me,” Cassian informed her, his tone soft and cautious, despite the tension between them.

Y/n glanced around the sprawling House, her expression still unreadable. “He’ll stay here with us?” she asked flatly, her gaze flicking to the horizon.

“When he’s in Velaris, yes,” he replied, watching her closely. “Don’t worry, though. You won’t see him much.”

“Good.” Her voice was clipped, her eyes fixed on the mountains in the distance. But beneath her detached tone, a storm churned. The mention of Azriel, his proximity stirred emotions she couldn’t quite place, ones she had long since tried to bury. She had told herself it didn’t matter, that his presence or absence had no bearing on her. And yet, the idea of him being just down the hall brought with it an uneasy tension, one she refused to examine too closely.

Her gaze remained fixed on the distant peaks as though they could steady her. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray, couldn’t afford to acknowledge the flicker of something unfamiliar threading through her otherwise rigid defenses. It was nothing, she told herself firmly, Just an echo of some old familiarity. Nothing more.

Cassian tilted his head slightly, studying her before hesitantly asking. “Did something happen between you and Az?” 

Her head snapped toward him. “No. Why would you think that?” she replied dryly, her posture stiffening.

“It’s just… before the war, you two seemed to get closer and now-”

“Your observation is wrong,” she interrupted, her voice flat and dismissive. “There was nothing to begin with.”

“Whatever you say.” Cassian raised his hands slightly, signaling he wouldn’t push further. “You should eat something. You’ll need all the energy you can get for training tomorrow.”

“I’m not training with you. Especially not at that horrible place.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “Don’t you have a debt to repay?”

“I’d rather see that place burned to the ground than train there,” she snapped.

“You sound like Az,” Cassian muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he turned away.

—

That night was a horrible one for Y/n. She had nothing to dull the pain, to quiet the voices in her head, and mostly, to stop the nightmares. She screamed her father’s name in her sleep as she watched his death replay over and over again in her mind. 

Azriel had just returned from wherever he had been, and the sound of her screaming pulled him toward her room like a magnet. He stopped just outside her door, hesitating. He knew she didn’t want him there, or around, she had made that clear. She didn’t want his help, didn't want his presence, didn’t want anything to do with him since the war. But the sound of her suffering clawed at him, each scream like a blade twisting in his chest, a cruel reminder of how powerless he felt to reach her.

He debated whether to go in and wake her or just stand there and wait for the nightmare to pass. As another anguished cry shattered the silence, he decided to go with the former as he couldn’t just stand by and listen. He reached for the door, his resolve firm, until his shadows whispered, informing him that she had just woken up. 

His hand froze, hovering over the handle. Relief flooded him, but so did disappointment. He stood there, torn. He wanted to hold her, help her, tell her it would be okay, to be the comfort she wouldn’t let herself have. But he knew better. She would never let him in, not in that way- not now, not ever.

Inside, Y/n sat upright in the bed, her breathing ragged. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the lingering images of her father’s death. The nightmares had been worse than usual, sharper, more vivid, without anything to dull the edges. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself.

Azriel lingered outside her door for a moment longer, his shadows brushing against the wood like a quiet offering of solace. When the silence in her room stretched, he finally turned and walked away, his footsteps silent as he made his way to his own quarters.

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Had to make a meme to describe me currently