#A court of thorns and roses fanfiction

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Four to Tango (poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Pairing(s): Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Warnings: foursome, smut, just a reason to create smut where three gorgeous fucking men rearrange your organs, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, never ending orgasms lol, overstimulation, all three of them are utter teases, polyamorous mates, no jealousy, rhys loves to watch his brothers fuck you stupid, my emotional support bat boys, i desperately need them rn, foursomes are hard to write ngl 🫠

Words: 5836

Summary: Three of them at the same time? You may not make it out alive.

Life before your three mates had never consisted with as much sex as it does now. In fact you were a virgin when you met the Illyrian trio. Not for lack of trying to get into a relationship. There were other concerns for you to attend to that distracted you from finding a partner.

Then Azriel literally fell into your lap. Followed by Cassian descending from the sky while laughing at the other who was blushing furiously and trying to scramble off of you with a string of apologies. Rhysand, with a flap of his wings touches down to the ground with an entertained grin. Until his violet eyes noticed you. Really noticed you. Almost reading into your soul.

Had it really been only four months since then?

Thinking about it had you blushing into your pillow. Four months of mind shattering orgasms and lavished with never ending affection. You must have really been good in your past life to receive these three as a reward.

Rhys shifts beside you. Voice husky from sleep but practically purring when he wraps his arms around you. "Seems like its been longer than four months, huh?"

His palms flatten against your midsection. Warmth immediately spreading across the plane of your skin. You wiggle closer to him and in reply, Rhys buries his face in the juncture of your neck. His lips pepper small kisses along the soft skin of your jugular.

He took turns with Cassian and Azriel as to who spent the night with you. It was only fair. You told them that you cared for them all equally and it didn't matter to you. You'd accept whatever they could agree upon without there being any jealousy.

Rotating was tricky in the beginning. Giving them each the same amount of attention to prevent feelings of being left out. And maybe you were starting to get greedy with their love because you couldn't help but feel incomplete without the other two when you were in one's bed.

Your inner musing catches Rhysand's attention; seemingly waking him up. The arm laying on top of you is removed when he sits up. Did you unintentionally offend him with your thoughts?

"Would you be interested in all three of us here?" He questions.

You turn to address the high lord of the Night Court. Beautifully and sinfully sexy the way he leans on his elbow to gaze at you. Tousled black hair shifting across his brow. What an alluring sigh the made. Tattoos and scars marking the smooth surface of his tan skin.

"All three of you in this bed?" It had been done before when you wanted to cuddle with all three of your mates. Rhys' bed nearly broke, not large enough to support two extra heavy frames.

"More than that." Rhysand's thumb brushes a stray hair out of your face. The depth of his tone had a warmth shooting down to your core. Thighs press together, you melt under his attention. "All three of us feasting upon you. At the same time." A growling undertone hits your ears. Your breathing becomes shallow as he holds your gaze.

You gulp, mind already racing when you whimper out "A-All of you?"

Rhys reads each and every one of your dirty thoughts, his lips curling sinisterly. "Can I take that as a 'yes', love?"

A furious blush overheats your cheeks and the tips of your ears. "I-I. . . How would that even work out?"

He leans in and nips at your already burning shell of your ear "You leave that to us."

Ever loving to tease you, he leaves with that promise hanging in the air. Claiming he had work to do but that he'd see you for lunch. For a while you lay in bed, thinking of the dark glint in your mate's eyes.

Surely, all three of them would be way too much for you to handle. Each of them were terrifyingly well-endowed. Especially Azriel. It took several tries to get more than the head of his cock inside of you. In the end he had to ease it in slowly over several dates until you could fully sheath him.

It became your hyperfixation throughout the day. As you went about the House of Wind to when you were out in the town market.

When you bump into Mor back at the townhouse, she manages to make you squeal on what Rhys had brought up earlier that morning.

Mor lets out a low, impressed whistle. "You have got to be the luckiest female in all of Prythian. What are you sweating about?"

"I can barely handle one of them at a time, Mor. I fear they'll kill me. Death by cock. I don't want that on my tombstone."

"Death by cock doesn't sound too bad." she hums but it turns into a snort when she catches your distressed expression. "Quit fretting. They'll take good care of you."

Chewing on your bottom lilp you knew you probably came off as silly to her.

Mor's hand caresses your upper arm. In a short amount of time, Mor had become the big sister you never knew you needed. She became your confidant and would keep all of your secrets; take them to the grave if required. "They're dumb males but they love you. Never in a million years would they ever dream of doing anything to hurt you."

That was clear to you since day one. The Cauldron destined all three of them to be your mates for a reason.

And it could be fun.

Who were you kidding, you knew it would be fun. Having sex with them individually always reduced your bones to pure pudding. They were overly generous lovers. Always making sure you climaxed first. Treating you not like a queen but a divine entity to be worshipped. Their faces, your thrones.

Talking with Mor did you good. You felt absurd at your previous concern. This would be the experience of a lifetime. Getting to love all three of your mates at once had you giddy.

After Mor leaves, you're constantly checking the clock. Almost lunch time. That meant your boys would be home at any minute. Your heart felt like a energetic bird in a cage, banging against its bars in desperation to get out.

You debate going upstairs and changing your underwear to something sexier when you stand to head toward the stairs, that's when the front door opens. Poking your head out from around the corner, you confirm it to be your boys. You were still getting used to the feeling of the mental connection that connected you to your three mates. Cassian and Az are in the middle of a conversation behind Rhysand when the trio walks in. Rhys grins at you before grabbing the attention of the Illyrians who stop their chatter.

Never one to be subtle, Cassian struts past them and pulls you out into the entry hallway. He swoops down to capture your lips with his, picking you off your feet unintentionally. His kisses always took all the air out of you, making your head delightfully light and floating. Cassian's eyes hold specks of glittering gold when he returns you to the ground.

"Welcome home." you breathily greet him. You swear Cassian puffs his chest out like a proud parrot every time he can get your vision to go starry with his kisses.

"You should've moved in a long time ago. I like coming home to you." Cassian's voice is smooth, deep as if purring.

Rhysand chuckles at your swooning thoughts toward the general. "Easy Cass. Get her any more riled up and we may not make it to the bedroom in time."

The cool caress of Azriel's shadows slithering up your legs accelerates the 'lub dub' of your chest.

"Aw, am I exciting you princess?" The general gets an immediate reaction when he picks up the scent of your arousal dripping from between your legs. Dark delight curls Cassian's lips.

Rhysand and Azriel appear to smell you as well. Hunger straightens their backs and their pupils blowing out. Azriel's serpentine shadows squeeze the fat of your upper thigh, another prods curiously at your clothed pussy, asking for permission inside. "Now sweetling, you wouldn't want anyone to come upon us and ruin our fun. Be a good girl and head up those stairs."

"You heard him." Rhysand reinforces Azriel's command when you hesitate, your face beet red. His chin tilts up, gesturing to the staircase on your right.

They looked like three wolves before they pounce on the poor unsuspecting lamb. You go up the stairs on wobbly legs. Every inch of you tingled with anticipation feeling the heat of the boys at your back. They're basically panting behind you, forced to watch the sway of your hips and ass as you go up one step and then another. Its a race to the bedroom door. You're the one to twist the knob, but its the flat of three palms against the door's smooth frame that shove it wide open. Cassian scoops you up, the ground slipping out from under you.

Cassian twirls you around before settling you down on the mattress like the treasure you were. If he possessed a tail, you bet all the riches in Prythian that it would be wagging fast. His lips are placing kisses all along your exposed legs, having flipped your dress skirts up. You uncontrollably giggle when he reaches the upper insides of your thighs, so close to your core.

You catch Rhysand's dark chuckle, the door closing shut follows after.

"Impatient as ever, Cass." Azriel comments and moves to one side of Rhys' bed while Rhysand stalks toward the other.

Hovering over you with his hair tickling your face, Cassian smirks and gifts you one last kiss before allowing you to sit up. With your three mates in front of you, you couldn't help feeling a little shy. Individually, you'd become sexually confident with them. But to have three pairs of lustful eyes all focused in on you. . .

You fidget and squirm, feeling the space between your legs flutter. "S-So. . . how is this going to work?"

"Nervous?" Rhysand reaches his hand out to gently stroke a lock of your hair.

"A little. I mean, to have the Night Court's high lord, general and spymaster all together is a bit intimidating. But I trust all of you." You grip Rhys' hand and move it towards your lips to kiss his knuckles; swearing that you hear him sharply inhale as you do so. You spoke the truth when you said you trusted them. They had you feeling confident and bold with the lavish amounts of love that they bestowed you with each day. How they made you feel like you could take on the very world itself as long as they were by your side.

Letting go of Rhysand's hand, you start to undress; overtly cognizant of their heated stares. Fully naked, you decide that Azriel's been so patient in waiting for attention. He grins when you crawl onto his lap and cup his jaw to pull him into a fervant kiss. His wings twitch and the shadows that perpetually clung to him push you closer against his form. In the background, you hear Rhysand and Cassian shuffle around. You wonder if they'd talked about this often.

"Oh, we have." Rhysand grins. "Many times. Sweetling, you have no idea the of the plans we've devised."

Azriel bites your lip in the moment making you gasp. Those powerful hands of his grip your ass tightly, forcefully moving you in a grinding motion against his hardening cock. Not caring that a smear of your arousal shined on the fabric of his pants.

"All the ways we can absolutely devour you."

Behind you, sharp teeth graze your shoulder making you squirm even more on Azriel's lap.

"The delicious thing that you are, it was necessary to. . . coordinate our moves." They move from your shoulder to your neck.

Your moans are unrestricted, they simply go directly into Az's mouth. He greedily feasts on them, tendrils of shadows softly gliding down your calf and to your ankles.

Now, Az.

You're not spared even a second before you're flipped around. Azriel takes hold of your wrists, splaying you out in front of Rhysand and Cassian. Their tattoos free from the confines of their shirts. And of course their well endowed shafts were already hard.

Rhysand is on his stomache, creeping closer to your pussy lips to brush his mouth against it before nuzzling with the tip of his nose at that little bundle of nerves that had the muscles in your thighs twitching. Teasing at first until his tongue lazily toys with it.

Azriel has you completely restrained. Nowhere for you to run or hide.

Fingers rub along your labia that was coated in your slick. Rhysand uses his fingers to gently pull your lower lips apart.

Your hazy gaze falls on Cassian who is gently stroking himself. He sends you a wolfish grin when he catches you. "Feel good, princess?"

All you can give out in response is a kiltered mewl. Rhysand was making his circles larger and larger around your clit. The tip of his finger starts to tickle at your entrance.

"A-Aahh-" Head lolling back, it falls against Azriel's shoulder. He's kissing the length of your neck, definitely leaving love bites.

Inch by inch, Rhysand inserts his index finger in you and ever so gently begins to curl his finger from inside of you. It's featherlight but enough to send an electric jolt through you and up your throat. Between your legs, Rhysand is constantly changing his speed and pressure. You squirm when Rhysand easily slips another finger inside of you and picks up his tongue speed on your clit.

You're trying your best to gyrate your hips to a near grind against Rhysand's face but Azriel's pesky shadows simply wouldn't allow it.

"Please!" You moan with another pathetic thrust of your hips.

Rhysand's lips smirk against your pussy.

"What do you say, general? Should the high lord let our well mannered lady come?" croons Azriel as he nips at the soft spots on your neck.

The tip of Cassian's cock is blushing with the most perfect bead of precum like a pearl. His lips curl in a smile when he catches your pretty eyes staring at him. He makes a show and swoops his thumb over the tip of his cock, dilated pupils observing how your mouth unconsciously opens with want to take in Cassian's member. And he would love to shove his cock down your throat, but that would have to be another time.

Instead, Cassian chooses to cock his head in scrutiny. "Too soon, don't you think?"

You desperately shake your head in disagreement but behind you Azriel laughs. "You're a cruel bastard aren't you?"

Shrugging indifferently before turning a wicked smirk your way, Rhysand returns to teasingly feasting on you as you squirm to shove your pussy closer to his mouth. He reduced his tongue strocks to pathetic kitten licks that had you wanting more.

Replacing Azriel's hands was the cool grip of his shadows as his hands now grip your tits. Scarred finger pads toy with your nipple until both are erect. Between your legs Rhys continues running the flat of his tongue up and down, dealing little rolls of the tip of his tongue against your clit occasionally. Just enough to keep you on the edge.

You're a whimpering, moaning mess. Half lidded eyes are barely able to make out the now fuzzy image of Cassian as he strolls to your other side. He puts one knee on the bed and leaning on his hands for support, he bites at your free tit that isn't being tortured by Azriel's loving pinches. His mouth latches on instantly.

Focus all over the place, you're lost in your own heady bliss and while you were denied your orgasm, your whole body was trembling from your mates' individual actions.

When Rhysand sits up, you nearly scream in frustration and pull at your shadowy restraints. "No!!"

They laugh at you and the bucking of your hips against empty air. You find yourself being manhandled once again, your tummy pressed against the mattress with your ass high in the air. Instead of Azriel's cock springing in front of your face its' Cass'.

Not needing any instructions, you take him into your mouth. You feel Cassian twitch against your tongue.

"See what a good girl she is, Cass? Come on. She deserves to come." the High Lord runs his hand along your flank, giving the globes of your ass a small squeeze. "Accidentally" slipping his thumb past your pussy lips.

Just to show Cassian what a good girl you were, you swallow more of his girth down your throat and hum. The vibrations that jolt up his cock has Cassian jerking his hips with a groan and threading his fingers into your hair. Rolling his head back, Cassian feels the walls of your throat tighten.

Through the warming of his face, Cassian trains his eyes back on your face.

"I think to sweeten the general up, perhaps our good girl should make the general come." You barely hear Azriel's smooth voice over the pounding of blood vessels in your ears. The entirety of the bottom of your face is covered in your own saliva and Cassian's precum. Your breathing was labored as you even struggled to inhale through your nose. Determination burning you up from the inside as you enjoy Cassian's cacophony of moans. Fueling the inferno in your core that has you wantonly feverish.

Obscenities made up of wet gagging noises coming from you and Cassian's own erratic growls fill Rhysand's master bedroom.

If anyone were to walk by outside-

"Don't think of that." Lightly scolds Rhysand. "There is no world except for the one in this room." His tongue licks from your clit to your perineum making you shiver and moan with your mouth full of Cassian.

There's a tug from Cassian's hand in your hair, pulling you back to the present matter at hand. He grinds his hips against your face. You're more than happy to forget about any sense of decorum or shame.

Your thoughts please Rhysand as he practically purrs against your pussy before he starts a full on make-out session with your lower lips. Your pitiable moans that send pleasurable quivers through Cassian's cock was enough to have his grip tighten in warning before shoving you off. Immediately follows the ribbon of cum shooting from his tip

"F-Fff-Fucking good girl" Cass' tone sounds like a curse but his red cheeks and heaving chest told you plenty. In a appreciative gesture, you run your fingers through the tantalizing streak of his happy trail, skating over the ridge of his cum gutters and up the mountain of abs.

It's all you can do as Rhysand spears that exquisite tongue of into your pussy while also stimulating your clit.

Alright, the general has spoken, sweetling. I'll give you a big reward.

Rhysand makes sure to keep his hands attentive to your messy, wet pussy when he pulls his face away. From the mess you left on his hands, Rhys uses it to coat his cock and and gently taps the tip against your entrance.

All the while Cassian brushes a few strands of hair out of your face before cupping it in his massive, callused hands. He always held you like you were a fragile egg. Intently watching every twitch of your face as Rhysand slowly pushes the blunt end of his cock into you. Inch by inch, he sheathes his member; like a sword with its scabbard. Your mouth parts, forming a soft 'o' shape as you feel your gummy walls accommodate his girth. For even Rhysand its a snug fit but being patient rewards him. Strong hands keep your hips in place.

Need to make sure I stretch you out a little before you take Az.

You're surprised you have a bit of your whits with you as you numbly think Where is Az?

"I'm right here, princess." Azriel sits on the bed once again, this time matching everyone else's nudity.

Again you're taken aback by how truly lucky you are when you gaze at Azriel and Cassian with half-lidded eyes. Cassian was already at half-mast in a matter of seconds thanks to the way your tits bounced when Rhysand fluidly slid his cock in and out. The powerful lines that composed their physique. Each muscle a testament to the trials and tribulations they have survived through. Your mates.

"Yes." He picks up his pace while swiping his thumb over your clit. "We're all your's sweetling." Heat radiating off of Rhysand makes your back start to sweat. Especially when he leans his forehead to press against your shoulder as he nearly folds over you, his thrusts becoming more animalistic as he neared the pinnacle of his own pleasure.

It's ridiculous how hard Rhysand can make you come. Overwhelming that your own small body could hardly contain it in your physical vessel. You can't help the tears that warm the backs of your eyes as you feel a thousand stars burst from inside of you. Stardust blurs your vision as your pussy walls clamp down on Rhysand mercilessly in your orgasm.

You're grateful that Rhysand solely is keeping you up. Your own body fails you as muscles spasm and every bare inch of you grows overly sensitive to Rhys' tightening grip.

Searing heat fills your core. The only sign that Rhysand has reached his climax as well besides the vicious bites he leaves all over your shoulders.

Your boys laugh when you face plant into the mattress, a heaving mess already and Cassian nor Azriel have had their fun yet. You will your arms to lift you up.

Red faced Rhysand takes pity on you and wraps one arm around your midsection to help you at least sit up enough to focus on the other two males whose chest are heaving just as much as yours'. Azriel's pupils have swelled till they took over his natural eye color. They'd look terrifying if it weren't for their raging cocks.

Well. . . the sight of those impressive members were slightly terrifying but also thrilling. Surprised when you felt your sticky pussy clench with need. Spoiled your cunt had become. Utterly spoiled by your three indulgent mates.

Cauldron grant you strength.

"Az and Cass will take care of you while I get you some water." Rhysand breathily tells you as he attempts to catch his own breath. You pout slightly when he moves to leave. He kisses your lips to placate the pout. "I'll be back. You'll be good. Won't you?"

"Always." You beam up at him. It has Rhysand melting, debating on staying and sending for one of the wraiths to fetch you water, but he knew you loathe the idea of anyone hearing your moans besides your mates.

With another promise of being prompt, Rhysand takes a second to at least put some pants on before leaving the room.

That's when Cassian unexpectedly pounces on you, pushing you back down against the mattress as you squeal your surprise. His lips are all over you, nips and kisses alike.

"Remember, we have to wait for Rhys." Azriel pipes up much to Cassian's chagrin as he shoots the spymaster a tampered down glare. While he's not too bothered with waiting, that doesn't mean he wasn't going to play around with you a little bit.

"Yeah yeah I know." Cass grins, his face leans down to hover over your tits before he takes on in his mouth. His teeth gently tug at your nipple making you warble. He hollows out his cheeks to give it a good suckle. "You'd probably do with a good tit sucking, Az." Comments Cassian once he removes his lips with a loud 'pop' noise.

"Then quit hogging them." Grins Azriel and pushes his brother's face away from your chest. Actually he nearly shoves Cassian off of you in his haste to latch his lips around your pert and abused bud. Imprints of Cassian's front teeth could be made out on the delicate skin of your breasts. Cassian doesn't put up a fight and watches Azriel swiftly clamber atop of you.

His giant wings block out the rest of the room, encasing you so that you could only focus on the spymaster.

He slithers down onto his tummy, his face making a slow ascent to your tits. Biting at the undersides, soft and tender and already baring red marks from Cassian's previous nibbling. Azriel's palm goes to cup at your heated pussy, still slick from your orgasm and leaking even more now with their touches.

You grind against his bare hand, absolutely drooling at the deep growl that rolls through him when you do so. Feel your lower lips spread against his palm, Azriel lets out another debauched groan that was now being muffled thanks to your nipple in his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around Azriel's head, you pull him closer to your chest and weave your fingers into his dark hair. In response his suckling becomes louder, the sensation shooting a thrill to your pussy. You coo praises with your head thrown back and your legs wrapping around Azriel's waist.

"Uh-uh sweetheart." Azriel lifts his face when he feels you trying to wiggle onto his cock. "Cassian has to stretch you out next."

"I've taken you before though. I can do it without any prep." Complaining, you're basically whimpering when Azriel peels himself completely off of you. You want to bite your tongue off for even saying anything.

"Looks like she's about to have a tantrum." Teases Rhysand when he opens the bedroom door to slink back in, but it was true. Azriel had worked you back up and now you were in need of another cock inside of you.

At least he's able to stop your pouting when you hands you water. You didn't realize how parched you were until the first splash of cold water hits your tongue. Guzzling it down, you're not paying attention to your bat boys having a silent conversation. One that you were not allowed in on.

Rhysand winks. Distracting you from Cassian sneaking up and lifting you high up onto his shoulders, smashing his face right into your pussy. Your fingers claw at his shoulders for stability as you feel yourself teeter to and fro.

"Cass!" Squealing, you can't enjoy his tongue fucking into you since you're doing your best to not fall.

Doesn't help when you can feel the vibrations of Cassian's low chuckle.

Its hard to forget just how powerful your mates are. Reminded consistently by their massive muscles. Cassian's hands never quivered in holding you up above his face.

You shiver and go slack jawed.

There you go.

Shadows help you to steady yourself on Cassian's hands, giving him your absolute trust.

When he's satisfied with how wet you are, Cassian slowly moves you down onto his lap. Each inch of him you took in, you let out sweet little cries. Lewd squelches emit from your singing pussy, Azriel and Rhysand watch with rapt attention at the general's cock splitting you open.

Your high lord nudges at his spymaster.

Azriel obeys and right in the middle of a cry provoked by a particularly hard thrust on Cassian's end, Azriel shoves his cock into your wide open mouth. The back of your throat is punched by the tip of Azriel's cock, enticing your gag reflex to choke you. Corners of your mouth ache when your lips have to widen even more in order to take Azriel's fat dick. Your eyes burn with dewey tears and a silver string of saliva dribbles down your chin.

Cassian continues to fuck you harder and your muffled cries has Azriel's spine tingling and his cock twitching in your mouth as his hips continue to thrust in and out.

Even with Cassian supporting all of your weight, you find your thighs trembling and hips quaking every smack of Cassian's pelvis meeting your ass.

Surprisingly, Azriel's own rhythm matched that of Cassian's. They really did plan this out. Impressive.

"We had to plan things out. You could get hurt otherwise." Rhysand replies. He couldn't explain the immense arousal it gave him to watch his brothers spitroast you. To watch the veins in your throat bulge and your red face streaked as pleasure induced tears slip down your cheeks. Quite the sight to behold and the most beautiful image in the world to Rhys.

The same time your head was bobbing, so was your ass as Cassian lets out possessive growls that outwardly had him appearing vicious. Cass' grip on your thighs told him otherwise, it was one of assured strength that he would not let you fall.

He knew you always thought yourself to be the lucky one in the relationship. Lucky to brag of your three strong mates that could rule all of Prythian's courts if they developed the taste for it.

In all honesty, they were the ones who felt like the luckiest bastards.

A mate wasn't something they ever thought would be bestowed to them. Blood trailed behind them. Brutal childhood years that physically and mentally scarred them for life.

You were their reward for all those horrible years.

And he couldn't imagine sharing you with anyone else but his lifelong friends that were basically brothers to him.

You're slapped across the face as another climax seizes control of your limbs. Spasming against Cassian's face that was now utterly demolished by your slick that gave his lips a shiny glaze.

You don't give Azriel an opportunity to pull his member out of your mouth before he too is creaming against your tongue. Thick, long ropes that coats your esophagus.

Abruptly, Azriel rips his cock out of your mouth as Cassian flips you onto your back and with one hand, holds your knee ditch in place and truly pounds into your pussy that had your tits bouncing uncontrollably from the velocity. He's smacking your wet, overly sensitive clit using the flat of his fingers. You shriek, feeling your back swallowed up by the mattress below you. Cassian could crush all of your bones and you wouldn't give a flying fuck in that minute.

With one last, devastating thrust, Cassian spills his warmth into you.

Giving yourselves extra time to come down from yet another post-coital high, Cassian slips out from you and gently places your legs back down. He pats your flank like you're a brood mare. "Atta girl."

Unable to conjure the energy to laugh, instead you wheeze out a scoff and half-heartedly swat at his arm.

He casts Rhysand and Azriel a teasing grin. "She's ready."

Azriel, your usually sweet and gentle Azriel suddenly has a predatory glint in his eyes. "Spread her."

Working together, Rhysand and Cassian grab hold of one leg each; parting them so Azriel can lewdly examine his prey.

"Look at this." Azriel hums and swipes his finger along the slit of your pussy, collecting a bit of Cassian's cum on his index finger. "Already stuffed. I wonder if my cock can even fit in there with both Rhys' and Cass' cum."

Despite your heated blush that made you dizzy, your lips quirk up. "The only way to find out is to try."

With all of the mixed liquids coating your cunt, it was pretty easy for Azriel to slide half of his cock into you. The rest he eased in with a few rocks of his hips. A growl that comes from the pit of his stomach is ripped out of Azriel, his wings flaring out when he takes you. His brothers continue to possess a secure hold on your thighs as their eyes focus in on the contorting features of your face.

The pressure of his cock is enough to pin you down. Overwhelming even but you'd taken his shaft before and you were determined to do it again.

In order to do so, you will your body into complete, ragdoll obedience that relaxes your entire body; even the death grip the walls of your cunt had on Azriel. It garnered him more wiggle room to start bullying his cock further into you.

Rhys actually breathes out a soft laugh "Wow. . . is that what being 'cock drunk' looks like?"

Cassian groans and using his free hand begins to fist his dick. "Cock drunk on Az's cock, princess?"

Unable to laugh, instead Az's lips twitched into a grin; one of his hands roam to stroke your cheek. You're thoughtlessly nodding along to whatever Cassian was saying. All you understood were the two words "Az's" and "cock".

For a second, you really do fear that Azriel will split you in half when his length pushes past the sensitive roof of your pussy and rams its head against your cervix.

Each love tap had your toes curling inward and your eyes rolling back.

Another?

Greedy girl. Do you even know how many times you've come?

You squeal, hips meeting Azriel's in perfect synchronicity. They can taunt you all they wanted. As much as they made you cock drunk, the three of them were completely pussy whipped.

In retaliation Rhysand gives your nipple a harsh tug. "You'll pay for that later, sweetling."

Exhausted was an understatement.

All four of you lay in a disgusting heap of limbs and collective sweat. Half of Cassian's body hung off the edge of the bed. He didn't mind. At least he was able to cool off even his foot was basically touching the ground and put a few inches between himself and Azriel. You lay between the spymaster and the high lord. Waters were retrieved after the fun was officially over.

Now you lay with your mates sated and unspeakably happy.

Your inner musings have Rhysand smiling. He turns your face toward him using but his fingers on your chin. "We live to make you happy." Rhysand languidly kisses you, enjoying the flavor upon your lips. A combination of everyone's juices. They would help you get to the bath. Eventually.

"I'm taking it the princess was satisfied?" Cheekily grinned Cassian.

You laugh though it costs your body to wince in slight discomfort. "Yes. If you didn't notice, I quite enjoyed myself."

Azriel nuzzles his nose along the length of your neck. Mentally you make a note that you'd have to visit the dressmaker so that they could alter your gowns to make them cover your neck and chest. Without context, many would assume the red marks all over your body was a sign of disease. Showing up to a professional meeting with hickeys all over your body wouldn't bode well either.

"Lets try double penetration next time!" Chimes Cassian.

Mother be good, these boys were certainly going to be the death of you.

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @a-courtof-azriel

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Never Yours

NEVER YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve known Azriel was your mate for a long time, but you never enlightened him to the fact. When you find him kissing someone else you decide to take a trip to the Illyrian war camps to take your mind off of the shadowsinger. But the thing about shadows – they always follow.

WARNINGS: Angst. Swearing, mentions of blood and injuries, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions properly. Illyrian males are sexist and pieces of shit (not our batboys tho<3). Azriel is a mean but it’s kinda justified if you think about… 

WORDS: 5.4K

I’m thinking of writing a part two where everything is sorted out. Let me know if that’s something you guys would like :))

“He’s supposed to be my mate,” you whispered, voice cracking, echoing that of your heart.

“I know,” Mor murmured, one hand stroking through your hair, the other rubbing your back comfortingly, careful to avoid your wings. There was nothing else to be said.

A choked cry left your throat. You had thought that maybe, maybe Azriel had known. Maybe he looked at you and felt the connection – felt the bond that tied your souls together. You had thought that those long looks and small smirks he sent your way meant something more than friendship.

But when you’d walked in on him kissing Elain… it was like the world had stopped. They hadn’t even noticed you. Granted, you’d been in the room for a second and then rushed out as soon as your brain actually registered what you were seeing… But he had chosen someone else. You had waited too long to tell him, and now… now you had lost him.

“I have to go,” you hiccupped, rising out of Mor’s embrace. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you later.”

“Are you sure?” Mor asked, worry and concern visible on her face as she stood up as well. “You can stay here, if you’d like.”

You looked around at Mor’s apartment in Velaris, the one she stayed at when she needed time to herself. Everyone had their own home in the city, because while everyone loved the inner court dearly, sometimes everyone could get on each others’ nerves.

You shook your head at Mor’s offer. “No, thanks,” you mumbled. “I just… I just want to be alone right now.”

Mor pursed her lips but did not argue. She gave you a tight hug before you left, making you promise not to do anything stupid, and to get home safe. 

As you walked through Velaris, you could have sworn that the stars didn’t shine as bright, that the music wasn’t as loud, that the laughter was less frequent. It was as if your city knew the way your heart ached and ached, and was trying to reflect that. You hated the way it felt, the way your soul cried and wept, screaming at the Mother for giving you a mate that would not love you back.

You should have told him when you first realised. When he grabbed your hand to help him up after he’d bested you in training (a rare occurrence, as you were both pretty evenly matched and most duels ended in a draw), and when it snapped into place for you. You’d looked into his hazel eyes and felt like you were home, felt like all of your problems could melt away if you just got lost in them. You’d felt like a fool not realising, like the bond was always there, but now a veil had been lifted and you could see it clearly. Azriel hadn’t noticed anything, and so you pretended that you hadn’t, either. Because Elain had already arrived, and you could tell that there was already something between them. And having the mating bond rejected – well, that wasn’t something you thought you’d survive.

You had only told Mor. The thought of telling anyone felt wrong if it wasn’t Azriel, but Mor was your dearest friend, and she had trusted you with her deepest secret, so you could trust her with yours. You insisted every day that you should tell him, always nagging and never relenting, but you couldn’t. Not when he got closer to Elain and you could see the way his eyes lit up whenever she entered the room, the way his shadows would fade away when she came near.

You needed to get away. You’d have to see either one of them tomorrow, one way or another. If you stayed at the River House then you were bound to see Elain, and if you stayed at the House of Wind, then you’d definitely see Azriel. You both lived there, after all, and he was in every hallway you turned down, every room you walked into. You couldn’t bear seeing either one of them, not for a while. You had to leave.

You flew straight to the River House with a plan forming in your mind and entered without knocking, stalking straight to Rhys’s office. He was sitting at his desk, a pen in his hand, and his head raised as you entered.

“You know, most people would knock–” he started, but you interrupted.

“Send me on a mission.”

Rhys looked taken aback. “What?”

“Send me on a mission,” you repeated. Rhys looked at you questioningly, and talons delicately scraped down your mental shields in a silent request. Always a request, never a demand from him, but you shook your head and made sure your mental defences were as strong as possible. “Stop prying.”

It wasn’t a nice thing to say – Rhys only wanted to help you. You’d known him for over five hundred years, and you knew that while, yes, he and the other two Illyrians were huge busybodies, if you had something going on, he wouldn’t ‘pry’. He’d try to help in any way possible.

Rhys could clearly sense your bad mood. You weren’t exactly hiding it. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“If I wanted to talk about it, then I would have come in here and started talking about it,” you retorted.

Rhys’s lips pursed. “Is this about Azriel?”

You scowled and snapped, “That’s none of your business.”

“You know, I’m sure if you just spoke to him–”

“It doesn’t matter,” you spat. “Either you send me on a mission, or I’m taking my vacation leave.”

Rhys sighed, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. Sending you away would only fuel your unhealthy coping mechanisms, but forcing you to stay… well, he didn’t want to hurt you like that.

“Fine,” he relented. “There’s an Illyrian War camp that needs… overseeing. They say they’re training the females, but every time I receive information from… other… sources, they say otherwise.”

You wondered if this ‘other’ source was the shadowsinger that you were currently trying not to think about.

“So you want me to get them to train the females properly?” you asked, and Rhys nodded.

That would get you maybe two or three days away from Velaris, possibly four or five if you played your cards right. Maybe by then you would have calmed down and been able to come up with a plan as to where to go from there. How to survive the crushing of your heart; of your soul.

“I’ll leave tonight,” you decided, but Rhys levelled you with a hard stare.

“Y/n, it’s already late,” he scolded. “Just wait until morning. You need rest.”

You were tempted to retort, tempted to tell him that you weren’t a baby and could take care of yourself… but he was right. You needed your strength for the Illyrian camps. The males tended not to take nicely to female warriors, and seeing as you had escaped the clippings in your childhood, they’d more than likely strike if you were tired.

“Fine,” you muttered, relenting only because it was logical.

Rhys studied you, his eyes watching you closely. Even though he generally relied on being able to look into someone’s mind to discern their thoughts, Rhys was pretty good at reading people and their body language. It was part of being a soldier, being a leader.

“You know, anything said here will stay between us,” he murmured.

For some reason, you had a feeling that he knew. Maybe you hadn’t been careful enough at hiding it in your mind, burying it beneath thoughts of your duties and upcoming birthdays and celebrations and whatever else you could come up with to hide it all.

But you didn’t want to talk about it. That was why you were here, after all – you were running from… everything.

“Thanks,” you uttered before leaving.

You could have sworn you heard Rhys sigh as you closed his office door.

With the luck of the Mother or Fate, Azriel wasn’t at the House of Wind when you arrived that night, nor was he present when you left the next morning at dawn.

The flight to the Illyrian mountains was a long one. You could have easily winnowed to the Illyrian camps, but you wanted to drag this trip out as long as possible. Besides, flying meant planning time, and planning meant that you’d be able to tackle this situation at the war camp more efficiently.

You arrived at the camp just before sundown, touching on the ground in front of the camp warlord and eight of his shoulders. Rhys had told them beforehand that you were coming, but they were obviously infuriated that a girl was going to tell them what to do.

“Devlon,” you greeted.

The warlord had his arms crossed and a frown on his face, causing a small grin to tug at your mouth. Whenever you came to one of the war camps, usually one of the bat-boys would accompany you to make sure they didn’t miss out on you burning it to the ground if you decided to. But now that they were training the females, you’d felt less inclined to do so, even if only slightly.

“So, the High Lord decided to send you to make sure we’re completing our duties,” he sneered.

You raised your chin slightly, the smug grin on your face growing a little bit. “Indeed he did.”

You looked around at the fighting rings, seeing (as you had been expecting) only men fighting and training. The wind pushed against them and they pushed back just as hard, swords clashing against each other, steel shining in the light of the setting sun, dimmed only by the clouds passing overhead.

“We do not need you to oversee us,” one of his men said, stepping forward and flashing his teeth at you.

It was a threat, the way he stood and the way he spoke to you. You could tell he was itching for a fight, and, luckily for him, you were, too.

“You clearly do,” you chided. “I don’t see any females in the rings.”

“Why don’t you get in there, then?” he snapped, rage practically wafting off of him. “Why don’t we see if you’ve really got what it takes, huh?”

You smirked to yourself, pleased with the way this was going. You’d been training and fighting for over five centuries with the best warriors Prythian and the lands beyond had ever seen. This male here was either unaware or too arrogant to realise he would not leave the ring a winner.

“Alright,” you agreed. “Weapons, or fists?”

“Fists,” the male growled.

You walked with him to the ring, eyeing the males who stopped what they were doing to watch. You peered over the edge and down into the valley below, the sheer drop making you want to snap your wings out just in case.

“If, and when, I win this fight,” you began, “you will begin to train the females following the schedule that your High Lord gave to you.”

The male before you grunted, his eyes full of rage. “And when I win, I will send you back to the High Lord in pieces,” he spat.

You simply rolled your eyes, enraging the male even more. Devlon stood outside the ring, his arms crossed and eyes watching you. Was it childish, this behaviour? Accepting a challenge from an Illyrian brute? Absolutely, it was. But you didn’t care. You had to do something to take the edge off, to make you forget the way Elain’s hand rested on your mate’s chest as she kissed him, the way your mate’s hand settled on her waist.

“You know the rules,” Devlon commanded. “No weapons, just your bodies and your wits.”

You grinned at the male, and before you knew it, the fight began. The two of you circled each other slowly, carefully, trying to gauge the other’s weakness. This one, he favoured his left side, which would be useful for you to know for when you were ready to end this. But for now? You just wanted a fight.

The male lunged at you while your back was at the ledge, just as you’d expected him to. He was hoping for a clean win, shoving you into the valley below, but you knew when he was going to strike. The slight shift in his weight as he leaned back told you that he was about to pounce and you side stepped easily, watching as the warrior turned back around in an instant.

This Illyrian was big, as most were, but you’d been fighting against a bunch of big idiots (namely Cassian, Rhysand, and the other one you didn’t want to think about), so you knew how to use your speed, and how to use their own strength against them. 

He lunged again, and this time you came to meet him. You blocked his attack and threw a punch, but he dodged it and grabbed your arm, flipping you onto your back. After a quick manoeuvre you had his legs trapped within yours and you pushed, dragging him to the floor. All of this happened within the span of seconds, and then the two of you were back in defensive positions, circling each other once again. As the sun sank beyond the horizon, fires were lit. You could see the flames’ light washing over your opponent, painting him orange and gold.

This time, you took the offence, throwing punches and kicks his way, fierce and unrelenting. He blocked all of your attacks before you feinted left and struck right. You hit his side as hard as you could, before punching him square in the nose.

You felt no little amount of glee as you heard and felt his nose crunch under the force of your hit. Blood gushed down his face and onto his training leathers and you danced back, prompting him to try to land a hit on you. His eyes were filled with a fiery wrath at being bested, and by a female at that. That was why he had challenged you in the first place – he didn’t believe that a female could beat him, let alone hold her own against him. And here you were, proving him wrong.

You could end it. Right now, you could end this fight, have this male’s face in the mud and the girls training. But you wanted to prolong this, wanted to feel every hit he struck, feel everything before you tired him out.

So you continued the fight, and you even allowed him to get a few good hits in. He got your jaw at one point and you felt your lip split – and yet you continued. You were going to be covered in bruises tomorrow, but it wouldn’t matter. No one in this camp would challenge you again, and you’d be able to lose yourself in the battle.

As the fight wore on, you began to notice the shadows flickering in the darkness. You tried to convince yourself that it was just the fire, the wind and flames messing with your mind, but… you felt him. You felt Azriel in those shadows, watching and waiting.

Unfortunately, while you were concentrating on those shadows, your attacks became sloppy. You struck at the male with your fist and had to hold back a wince as he hit your wrist and got you in the stomach, partially knocking the air out of you.

Voices arose after the blow, and the male turned his head to the crowd which contained males and females alike. But what captured everyone’s attention was the shadowsinger standing at the edge of the ring, fists and jaw clenched and looking like he was planning all the ways he could rip this male’s skin from his body. Shadows curled around him, whispering in his ear and sliding over his wings and body.

Azriel’s hazel eyes slid to yours and you looked away, and back to the male. You should end this. Your lip was still bleeding, as well as a cut on your eyebrow. Your wrist was most definitely sprained, and you were sure you had at least a few bruised, if not broken ribs.

But you wanted to continue. You weren’t done yet, especially not with him here, knowing that you flew all the way out here just to get into a boxing match. It wasn’t fair that he was here, that he was ruining this. It wasn’t fair that he distracted you with his shadows, it wasn’t fair that he distracted you with his mere presence. It wasn’t fair that he kissed Elain even though he was your mate, even though you’d loved him in secret for at least twenty of her lifetimes. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair.

But… you knew you had to end it. If it went on any longer, you’d only tire yourself out and give the male more of a chance at winning. So you sighed deeply before pelting him with attacks, not giving him a moment to recover. You secured your hands on his shoulders before hoisting your body up and around, wrapping your thighs around his neck and pulling him to the ground. You squeezed your legs tightly, cutting off the airflow to his lungs. He flailed about a bit, trying to escape, and a few seconds before he lost consciousness, he tapped your leg three times, encouraging you to let go and stand up.

“Well, that was fun,” you exhaled. “Let’s not do it again anytime soon.” You turned your gaze to Devlon, his eyes shining with hatred. “The girls start their proper training tomorrow. I’ll be overseeing it, watching what you teach them and how you teach them. Understood?”

Devlon just grunted and left, his gang of males following him. You turned to the house that used to be Rhys’s mother’s and stalked towards it, sensing Azriel follow behind. You were furious that he was here – you’d come to the Illyrian war camps to escape him, and yet he’d followed you here. Had Rhys told him that you’d be here? Had Rhys sent him after you to make sure you didn’t fail? Or had your high lord sent him because he knew that Azriel was the source of your whirlwind of emotions?

The thoughts swirled around your mind as you opened the door. You were tempted to shut it in Azriel’s face, to force him to find somewhere else to sleep, but… he hated these war camps as much as you did. This house, it was a sort of refuge here, somewhere the two of you could feel safe out in Illyria. It was the essence of Rhys’s mother that gave you comfort, you knew. The woman who was more of a mother to you than your own was, the woman who protected your wings and made sure her son and his friends trained you in self defence. The woman who took you, Cass, an Az in, who gave them a home.

So you left the door open for him to follow, and he entered the home. It was just as you had left it the last time you were here; the hallway to the bedrooms that no longer smelled like Rhys’s mother; the small table next to the even smaller kitchen; the dishes that were clean thanks to the shadowsinger behind you, because the rest of you hated cleaning up.

You opened some of the cupboards, looking for the first aid kit. You found it shoved behind a mace and grabbed it, placing it on the table and opening it. You looked inside for the mirror but found it missing, and you sighed through your nose. Cleaning up your lip and eyebrow was going to be difficult now, but you’d figure it out. 

You sat on one of the wooden chairs and assessed your injuries. Split lip and eyebrow – those would need cleaning and bandaids. You assumed you wouldn’t need stitches as it didn’t feel deep, nor did it sting in the way it would if you did require stitches. Your knuckles were split, and your wrist was sprained. Those would require bandages, which you luckily had lots of. There wasn’t much you could do about the ribs – maybe you could get Madja to do a look over once you returned to Velaris.

“Why are you here?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You’d almost forgotten he was here – almost, only because you could feel the string that tied you together. In a crowded street you’d be able to find him, you knew it. If you tugged on it (which you’d never done) you knew he’d be able to find you, too.

“Rhys sent me on a mission,” you replied nonchalantly.

While you had come here to escape him, it didn’t mean you had to be rude and ignore him, but you could speak as little as necessary. Azriel stayed silent and watched as you struggled to clean your wounds. He sighed and walked over, kneeling between your legs and taking the cloth from your hand, dabbing at your eyebrow. You tensed under his touch and he raised an eyebrow, pausing his actions. He’d done this too many times to count – patching you up after a fight. You all helped each other after a battle with whatever was needed, but this time, it felt… different.

“Why did you follow me?” you asked.

“Why did you start a fight?” he responded.

You glowered at him and a small smile lifted the corner of his lips. He continued to wipe the blood away, and you two sat in silence as he worked. He pulled a bandaid out of the kit and with featherlight fingers, pressed it to the cut on your head. He smoothed it out gently, and the sting was barely noticeable.

“Are you going to answer my question?” he asked, grabbing the cloth again and rinsing it before moving it to your lip.

“Are you going to answer mine?” you retorted.

Azriel chuckled lightly and placed the cloth against your mouth. You hissed as it stung, and the shadowsinger pulled back with a murmured apology. He returned to his task, dabbing lightly and carefully wiping away blood. With his hands practically on your mouth, you could barely think. All you could feel was the cloth on your bottom lip, your mouth separated from the pads of his fingers only by the material.

“You weren’t in the house,” Azriel finally answered as he moved away from your lip and rummaged around the kit for a bandage. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving, so I asked Rhys where you were.”

So Rhys did sell you out. You frowned at the thought, disgruntled by the fact that he sent Azriel after you. Noticing the look on your face, Azriel added, “It took a while for him to tell me, you know. He didn’t tell me what camp you were going to, so I found you myself.”

You scowled at him. “I can take care of myself, Azriel.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he questioned, ignoring your statement and reaching for your hand to start the bandaging.

Your scowl deepened, and you pulled your arm away from his grasp. “You’re not my keeper, Azriel. I don’t need to tell you anything.”

Azriel eyed you for a moment, clearly seeing that something was bothering you, and trying to figure out what it was. You didn’t normally talk to him like this. Of course, he and the other two Illyrians could be overprotective mother-hens, and you would remind them that you were a warrior, just like them, but your words never had as much venom behind them as they did tonight.

“If this is about my confidence in you,” Azriel began, “I do believe you can carry out this mission on your own. I just…” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face as if he was considering his next words. “I just wanted to be here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. ��You hate it here.”

“So do you,” he retorted. “And yet you asked Rhys to send you here.”

“I asked Rhys to send me on a mission, not here specifically,” you countered.

At the glint in Azriel’s eyes, you realised you’d been trapped.

“Why did you ask him to send you on a mission?” he queried.

You scoffed, “None of your business.”

You snatched the bandages from his beautiful, scarred hands and stood up. The shadowsinger rose to his feet as well, towering over you. You took a step to brush past him, intending on wrapping your wrist and hands in one of the bedrooms, when his wing snapped out, blocking your way. You glared at the male, and his eyes held concern.

“Are you avoiding me?” he questioned. 

“No,” you lied, trying to push past him again, only for his arm to stop you this time.

You took a deep breath in through your nose, staring daggers at Azriel. Azriel, who was supposed to be your mate, your other half. Azriel, who was looking down at you with pain in his eyes. Azriel, whose dreams you sometimes saw through the bond, the dreams of his past which pained you whenever you thought of it. Azriel, whose pain you could feel now, running down the bond as you tried to leave him behind.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Azriel reminded you. You opened your mouth, but he continued, “I answered yours, so you answer mine.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, suppressing a wince as your wrist moved wrong. It was starting to swell, and if you didn’t bandage it soon, the others would never let you hear the end of it. It would be, “you need to take care of your injuries, Y/n” and, “you know better than to leave a wound unattended.” You’d be driven mad, because they would never let it go.

“Why did you start a fight?’ Azriel asked again, quietly and gently.

You let out a breath. “Beating that male would assert my dominance, something that you males are always doing.”

Azriel frowned slightly, and you wanted nothing more than to smooth the wrinkles in his forehead away and assure him that everything was fine.

“You could have ended the fight the second you entered the ring,” he stated. “Why didn’t you?”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. You couldn’t tell him. He wanted Elain; sweet, beautiful Elain who could be the perfect wife. Elain, who was soft and gentle, Elain who liked to bake and garden. Elain, whose skin was porcelain and unmarred, whose hands were calloused by tending to her garden. Elain, the woman who spoke eloquently and politely, who was able to get him to smile so easily with simply her presence. Elain, the one who made his shadows disappear entirely.

Not you, the Illyrian female whose hands were calloused by weapons and centuries of training. Not you, the female whose physical scars reflected those of her inner scars. Not you, the female who was rough and sharp, with jagged and brittle edges, the female who had been shaped by battles and wars, the female who had witnessed and brought death to many. Not you, the female who his shadows danced around, as if they could sense the darkness within.

You didn’t answer, instead deciding to refuse to meet his gaze and looking around the house, which you now realised felt too small with the two of you in it. A hand rested underneath your chin and forced you to look up and into his hazel eyes.

“Please, tell me what I did,” he begged. “I hate… I hate this. I hate you not talking to me.”

Your breathing hitched as he stared at you, his eyes conveying the hurt that you could feel pulsing down the bond, even if he was unaware of it.

“You kissed Elain,” came out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Azriel froze, and you wished you could have just kept your stupid mouth shut. “That’s it? That’s why you’re upset with me?”

It sounded so silly. You knew it sounded worse to him, because he didn’t know. He didn’t know that he was your mate, that you’d been in love with him ever since you’d learned his name. You didn’t own him, anyway – he had his own free will, and he could kiss whoever he wanted to. But it didn’t stop the ache in your heart whenever you thought of him with someone else.

When you didn’t respond, Azriel took a step back, his hand leaving your chin. You looked down in shame, feeling Azriel pull away.

“I can kiss who I want, Y/n,” Azriel said.

“I know that,” you insisted, looking up, “but–”

“There is no ‘but’, Y/n,” he argued. “You can’t get upset if I’m with someone else. Why do you even care?”

He spat the last word and you felt anger bubbling up at him and his tone. You could care if he was seeing someone. You had the right to give a fuck about his love life.

“You don’t know how much it fucking kills me, Az!” you snapped loudly. “You don’t know what it’s like, being in love with you for practically my whole life and thinking that maybe, maybe you felt the same, and then having the bond snap in place, and feeling like it was always supposed to be like that, like the Mother or the Cauldron or Fate or whatever thought that I was enough for you…”

You trailed off, breathing heavily and feeling guilt and embarrassment spread through you. You weren’t supposed to tell him like that – you weren’t supposed to lose your cool and yell at him that you loved him and… and reveal that he was your mate.

“The… the bond?” he repeated slowly, the only time you’d ever actually heard him stumble over his words. “Y/n, what do you mean, ‘the bond’?”

You sighed and rubbed your arm, once again looking away. “The mating bond. You’re my mate, Azriel.”

He was silent, and you made no attempt to change that. This was it, the moment where he accepted or rejected the bond, the moment where he either made your heart and soul feel whole, or he ripped your heart out of your chest and crushed it.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Your head snapped up at his words, at the icy rage dripping from them. Azriel’s eyes were hard and dark, staring into you and your soul. You saw him searching through every feeling, every connection to you that he could find.

And then you felt it. The tug on the string that tied your souls together, pulling you towards him. His eyes widened slightly, and his lip curled up into a snarl. “You lied to me.”

“Omitting the truth isn’t lying,” you retorted.

“I had a right to know,” he hissed, and you took a step back.

He shook his head, scoffing at you and your choices, making you feel small and inferior. You hated how easily he could do that, how easily he could make you feel irrelevant and insignificant. It reminded you of how the other Illyrian males tried to do so, not that they ever could. But Azriel had your heart and soul, and everything he said or did affected you in some way or another.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your mission,” he fumed, the cold fury still clouding his eyes. 

Before you could say anything he disappeared into his shadows, leaving you alone in the house as if he had never been there in the first place. For the second time in two days you felt a crushing feeling in your chest, a physical pain that made it hard to breathe. You felt empty, like a part of your soul was missing. 

And it was. Azriel, the other half to your soul, he was gone. And you knew you’d always be able to feel that emptiness, that hole that was so Azriel-shaped it hurt. You were going to feel it forever, no matter how far you went or how long you didn’t see him. It wouldn’t matter if you crossed oceans and lands and skies – you would always feel like you wanted to rip your heart out, if only to ease the pain.

You would always miss what was never yours.

[xxvalkyriesxx]

The Blood on Your Hands

Summary: Cassian's had enough of Rhysand threatening his mate. He's decided to show his High Lord what happens when he threatens her for a second time.

This is pure smut. The first half is somewhat violet as a heads up. Also warning, there's slight HOFAS spoilers but I made it vague enough that it doesn't go into much detail. This isn't an anti Rhys train, I was just mad at his reaction.

Additional Tags: I was mad once again at HOFAS / Mainly the BAM bonus chapter / Cassian is crazy in this / 1000% alphahole / But I love him / Possessive Cassian / Mating bonds / Its pure filth in the second half / Smut / Praise kink /Not really blood play but blood is kinda there 

Read on AO3 or below

Tag list: @separatist-apologist

There was so much red, Cassian couldn’t see his siphons anymore. His hands were coated in blood, his blood. The male who was his brother, his friend, his High Lord.

Rhys would heal.

That was his only reassurance as he punched his face again. His fist connected to Rhys’ mouth once more. From the hit, he spit out the mixture of saliva and blood and tears.

“We’re Ilyrian. So today we will follow their laws.” Cassian growled, his teeth baring at Rhysand. Rhysand was smart not to say anything. His breathing was heavy as he gasped for air.

Rhysand was high lord but he was no Lord of Bloodshed. He could fight his way through a battle with strategy, but when it came down to physical strength, that’s where Cassian had him. But Cassian had another factor in his anger. Something ancient and holy that not even the Illyrians would deny.

His hazel eyes met her silvery blue ones. Her face remained stoic, not a single wince of fear in sight. Yanking the High Lord by his hair, Cassian dragged Rhysand to Nesta’s boots. She wore Illyrian leathers, just like the two of them. An Illyrian in mind and soul.

“Apologize.” Cassian demanded. Rhysand mumbled something but Cassian decided that wasn’t good enough. He pulled on Rhysand’s hair, making him look up at Nesta.

“Apologize to her. Now. Be clear with your words. I will not ask again.” The High Lord gulped as more blood left his mouth. His entire face was bruised in shades of blues and purple. Ironically it complimented his violet irises.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Rhysand spoke. Cassian sneered. “For what?” Rhysand coughed more of his blood.

“For threatening to kill you, Nesta…For a second time.” Cassian roared at the apology, his hand finally letting go of Rhysand’s head. He marched forward until he stood behind Nesta, his mate.

Silence from Nesta amplified Rhysand’s gasps and coughing fits. Still standing without so much of any emotion. The queen of queens her mother projected her to be, and today she was.

“Rhysand.” Nesta spoke. Her voice firm with her silver flame eyes.

“You will never threaten me, or my loved ones again. I did what anyone with a human heart would have done. That includes my sister. The very sister you’re mated too. There are concepts that even century old fae like yourself cannot understand. I hope after this, you understand my actions. You do not have to agree, but respect is something of mutual value.”

She offered her hand to him. “You’re high lord, which is why Cassian decided to do this in the training yard and not in Illyria. We need to be strong and unified against the ones who cause unjust rebellions. So let this be a one time moment. A learning moment if you will.”

Rhys looked up at Nesta. “Never fuck with Cassian’s mate again?” Nesta smirked. “You’re a fast learner.”

She grabbed his hand and helped him up. Together they brought him inside where Feyre was sipping her tea. Looking up, she grimaced.

“Jeez Cass, did you have to go that far?” Cassian glared at her in reply. She rolled her eyes.

“Has everyone learned their lessons?” Feyre asked. Rhys and Nesta looked at each other then nodded.

“Good. Cassian, put him down over there. I’m going to make his favorite tea and then I’ll start healing.” Cassian did as the High Lady instructed. He graciously placed the High Lord down on the sofa. All three of them heard her mumble about ‘big Ilyrian babies’ as she walked to the kitchen.

“Brother.” Cassian said, firm but gently. Rhys kept his eyes closed, but he spoke softly. “I would’ve done the same thing to you, you piece of shit.” And for the first time that evening, Cassian laughed. He bumped his fist on Rhys’ shoulder who hissed in pain. “You did that on purpose.” “Just a love tap, brother.”

Cassian walked over to Nesta who stood with her arms crossed, watching the whole scene. “Ready, Sweetheart?” A crack in Nesta’s steel armor appeared. A soft smile welcomed his question. “Always.”

The General of the Night Court swooped his mate into his arms and disappeared to their room.

The second Cassian closed their bedroom door, Nesta quietly asked the House for a sound barrier under her breath. The House created a barrier as asked, keeping everything inside their room private. Cassian looked over to Nesta and as he started to approach her, she backed him up against the door.

His eyes widened for a split second before he could smell it. Her yearning. Her need. Her desire. She placed a hand on his cock, feeling it grow hard through the leathers. A breath left him as her lips connected to his neck. She nipped and sucked at him, their desire growing.

“Never have I ever been turned on by a brutish fight.” She mumbled into his skin. “Good to know what gets you off, Sweetheart.” Cassian replied.

Her hands ran to his leathers, slowly undoing the armor letting it fall to the floor. Eventually as she reached his pants, they dropped down along with her knees. Nesta didn’t even flinch at the impact, as it just made her more turned on. His cock, thick, long, and throbbing to be inside sprung out. Quickly she took her hand and started to pump. Her lips found his head, licking his slit before putting his length in her mouth.

Cassian moaned, grabbing Nesta’s hair, pushing his cock deep inside her throat. She gagged as tears sprang into her eyes. A throbbing need matched at the apex of her thighs.

“Look at you. Taking my cock so well, Sweetheart. You didn’t let me clean up first. Does beating the shit out of someone do it for you? Do you want me to fuck you with their blood on my hands?” In response Nesta moaned, picturing the thought in her head.

“You’re filthy, Sweetheart.” The humiliation burned her desire great as she squeezed his cock harder. Cassian hissed, fucking her throat. He pulled her mouth almost fully off before entering her mouth again, letting a slip of air come in.

“If you don’t stop, Sweetheart, I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that? You want my cum everywhere, don’t you?” Nesta’s tears splattered on her face as Cassian yelled, his hot finish releasing. Nesta pulled her lips off, drooling.

“Your beauty will end me and all our enemies. They will fall to their knees looking upon you.” Cassian fell to his own knees, pushing Nesta down on the wooden floor. He quickly removed her leathers, wanting every piece of her. In seconds Nesta was bare before him, her arousal coating her inner thighs. A smirk fell to his lips.

“All of this, for me?” Nesta whimpered, her hips bucking wanting to be touched.

“Answer me, Nes.” Cassian ordered. “All of it. All of this. It’s for you, Cassian. Now please fuck me!”

“Or do I have to get your other brother involved to finish the job?” Nesta taunted.

Immediately Cassian wrapped a hand around her throat squeezing. His teeth bared as he growled. “You will involve no one else but me inside you, Nesta.” He squeezed harder. “Understand?”

Nesta’s eyes fluttered, air being trivial at this point. But she nodded to his command. Gently his hand left her neck. And right as she gasped for her air, Cassian put his mouth on her clit. Nesta swore so loudly as she saw stars appear in her vision. He sucked on her before his lips left, dragging his tongue everywhere. The taste of her consuming him to no end.

His mouth traveled from there to her inner thighs, biting the soft skin, claiming every part of her. Nesta gasped as her hands pulled at his hair. His lips found her clit again and with a tiny nip of his teeth, she came. He pulled away, keeping her legs spread apart, watching her cunt clutch at nothing.

“Please, Cassian. I want your hands, your cock. Please. Please fill me until your cum is slipping out of my cunt.” Her face flushed at her own words.

Cassian growled and let go of her legs before grabbing her cheeks. “Get on the bed. Choose whatever position you want, Sweetheart.” He let go and watched her scramble to their bed. Her arms down on the blankets with her ass up. Mother above he could die just by that view.

“I’m going to wash my hands and then I’ll be back, Sweetheart.” Nesta whined, stomping her feet the best she could in that position. Cassian strolled over, yanking her hair so her upper body came up. “I would rather chew my hand off, then have another male’s blood inside you, Nesta.” The way he growled her name made her desire leak onto the bed.

He slapped her ass hard, catching Nesta off guard. She gasped at the impact, the upper half of her body dropping back down when he let go of her hair. The red handprint on her ass was divine as he walked away. As he got into the bathroom connected to their room, he kept an eye on her.

“Touch yourself, Nes. I want you to get yourself ready for me.” Cassian called out.

Slowly Nesta brought her arm in between her legs immediately sinking three fingers inside herself. Cassian and Nesta moaned in unison. Quickly Cassian washed his hands, the blood leaving a pink faded trail behind. In mere seconds he walked out to the bed, putting two of his own fingers inside Nesta, joining her own. She squealed at the tightness of having five fingers inside her.

“You can take it, Sweetheart. You take my cock and my whole fist. You were made for me. Just as I was made for you.” He whispered into her ear. The action of their hands thrusting faster and faster made Nesta gasp as she came. Cassian licked his lips.

“I love it when you do that.” Nesta huffed a breath. “I could have gotten myself off three times by now.” “You sure you want to be a brat today?” Nesta shaked her ass in response. Cassian growled. He took her hips into his hands and thrusted his cock into her. They moaned at the sensation as it been days since they last fucked.

“I don’t have the patience for discipline tonight. So you’ll get it rough and learn your lesson later.” Cassian shouted, his hips slamming into her. His cock thrusted in her cunt as Nesta held onto the bedspread for deer life. He grabbed a hold of her neck again, pushed her body flat against his, her back on his chest.

“What do you want? Tell me, Nesta.” “Want you. Fuck me. Make me cum.” “Not what I’m looking for, Nes.”

She screamed as his pace slowed into a taunt. So slow that his cock left her except for his tip.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Nesta screamed in agony. “Please, Cassian. Fuck me. MATE. My Mate. PLEASE.” Then he found himself back inside her, pounding into her. They moaned and screamed as their desires finished, coating her walls. They breathed heavily as she dropped back down to the bed, his cock leaving her.

Cassian watched the cum leave only for it to be pushed back in. Nesta moaned at the sensitivity of the area. She gasped for him to be gentle. He noticed the bloody fingerprints over her thighs making he purr at the sight.

“I will mate. Now before we take a bath, let me clean you up.” He flipped her onto her back before he walked off and wetted a clean washcloth with warm water. He came back and gently began cleaning her thighs and in between.

“Should I beat up more people around you, Nes?” Cassian looked down at her. “Maybe I should join you and Azriel in your interrogations.” A feline grin on her face. “Perhaps, if you’re good.” He teased before he threw the cloth into the hamper. He picked her up in his arms, and off the two went to bathe.

[captainsophiestark]

Come Here Often?

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Everyone in the Inner Circle knows Cassian and Y/N have feelings for each other, except the two idiots in question. Thankfully, the IC's not known for minding their own business, especially in matters like this.

Word Count: 1,772

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see a show at the Ampitheater tonight?" I asked, trying to give Mor a guilt trip with no more than a look as we carried bags towards the river house. She just scoffed at my attempt.

"I already told you, I can't. I wish I could, but our lovely High Lord has me doing work all night tonight."

I huffed. "Fine. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the work, since I'm losing my theater buddy."

Mor shot me a grin. "I'm sure you could find somebody to replace me if you really wanted to."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew what she wasn't saying: that I should invite Cassian. To do something, if not to go to the amphitheater. I regretted ever telling her I'd caught feelings for the Illyrian general.

"Whatever, Mor," I scoffed, failing to come up with a better comeback. She grinned, clearly sensing her victory, but luckily for me I'd reached my room. "Enjoy all that work you have to do tonight!"

I didn't wait for her response before ducking through the door and shutting it behind me. I could hear her laughing as she continued down the hallway to her own room, but I did my best to block it out as I dropped my bags.

I hovered a little longer in my room, taking my time putting away the things we'd brought back from the market, until I heard Mor leave to go do whatever work Rhys had her doing. I checked both ways in the hallway when I finally emerged before heading down to the kitchen.

All of my friends had been hounding me about Cassian lately, and as much as I loved them, if I heard another word from anyone trying to nudge me into asking him out or whatever, I was going to lose it.

I made my way towards the kitchen, intending to make myself a snack before figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening, but I stopped short at the sound of harsh whispers coming from within. It sounded like somebody was having a heated conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt anything. But then my stomach rumbled, and I decided to go in anyway.

I cleared my throat and made as much noise as possible so I wouldn't interrupt any Inner Circle members in the middle of something serious. When I rounded the corner, I found Cassian and Azriel sitting at the table in the middle of the space, leaned back in their chairs and trying way too hard to look casual.

"Hey guys..." I said, eyeing them both suspiciously as I slowly moved further into the room. Az gave me a little nod, and Cassian gave me a smile that looked more than a little forced. "What, uh... what are you both up to?"

"Rhys needs my help with something," Azriel said, standing abruptly. I narrowed my eyes at him, but of course his expression gave away nothing as he headed for the door. "I'll see you both later."

I watched him go, then turned my gaze to Cassian once Az was gone. His back was to me, so I couldn't read his expression, but his shoulders were tensed and he hadn't turned from the doorway Az had disappeared through.

"Okay..." I said, deciding to just move past it as I turned to the counter to start making myself a snack. "What about you, Cass, you got anything going on tonight?"

Cassian cleared his throat. "Me? Nope."

I heard him shifting in his chair behind me, and a moment later he was standing at my side. I prayed he couldn't hear my heart racing faster at his proximity as I tried to keep my focus on the fresh fruit in front of me.

"So, uh, you..." Cassian's wings rustled behind him, usually a sign of nerves. I frowned. "You come here often?"

I paused, setting the knife down and opting to slowly turn to face Cassian, one eyebrow raised. He fidgeted as he stared back at me, and I caught him forcing a grimace off his face in favor of a small smile. I'd never seen him look so nervous before.

"I... Cass, we both live here."

The grimace returned in full force, and I couldn't help smiling as Cassian brought a hand to his forehead.

"That's not what I meant to ask you," he said, shaking his head and meeting my eyes again. "What I meant was, uh... do you have a bandage?"

"A bandage? Did something happen? Did you get hit-"

"Dammit! No, I'm fine. Never mind, I need to go find Az-"

He started to push off the counter, but on a reflex, I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me, and my heart almost stopped in my chest at the intensity of his gaze.

I quickly pushed down the butterflies in my stomach to give Cassian a once-over. No matter what he said, he clearly was not fine. I didn't see any obvious physical injury, but a hard hit to the head would definitely explain some things, and when I met his eyes again he had a weird look in them.

"Cassian, are you sure you're okay? What's going on?"

He took a deep breath and then hesitated, his eyes darting over my face and his brow furrowed. Then, he sighed, his face and shoulders relaxing with him.

"I'm sorry, I just... I was trying to ask you out." My eyebrows shot up, but Cassian continued before I could muster a coherent response. "I've been wanting to do it for a while now, but I lost a bet to Az last week and my 'punishment' that I finally had to go through with it. I've been trying to figure out the best way to do it, but... I guess that wasn't it."

Cassian huffed a little laugh at himself, his expression drooping as he stared at the ground. I just blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to process everything he'd just told me.

"Hold on... you're asking me out because you lost a bet to Az?"

"Not just for that," Cassian assured me quickly, looking worried. "Or, I guess, if you're not into it, then maybe yes?"

I just laughed, which didn't seem to make him feel better. I felt guilty, but I also just couldn't help it. My heart leapt as I put a hand on Cassian's shoulder and his eyes snapped to mine again.

"Cass... I barely escaped that exact same bet with Mor last week."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little. I couldn't quite help it. Cassian apparently felt the same way about me as I did about him, as evidenced by our friends' ridiculous tactics. My heart soared, and I stepped a little closer to him. "I cheated a little to get out of losing, but she's been pressuring me to ask you out somewhere anyway for the last week and a half."

"Because... you like me?"

"Yeah. A lot."

The frown finally lifted from his face, replaced with a beaming grin that made my heart race. Slowly, he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, pulling me a little closer to him. I let one hand rest against his chest, and Cassian's lopsided smirk almost made me faint.

"Our friends are going to be rubbing this in for a long time, but I can't make myself care," he said, voice low. I bit my lip and smiled up at him.

"Same. Especially since I think they're all out of the house right now on a fake assignment for Rhys."

"That's definitely a perk of all their bullshit."

"So... what now?"

Cassian's eyes flashed as he leaned forward, pulling me flush against his chest. He dropped his mouth towards mine until they were barely inches apart, then met my eyes. Based on his grin, I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

"I have a few ideas," he breathed.

A heartbeat later, his lips were on mine, and fireworks exploded in my chest. Being with Cassian like this just felt right, and now that we were finally together, I never wanted to let him go.

I wasn't sure who initiated it, but we deepened the kiss as Cassian's grip tightened on my waist. I let my hands wander over his chest, to his shoulders and arms, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a disgusted scoff from behind me.

Cassian and I broke apart, arms still around each other, and turned towards the door to find our friends standing there, staring at us with their hands on their hips.

"Well, I guess this is what we wanted," said Mor with a shrug.

"Pretty sure I told him to ask her out, not make out with her in the kitchen," Az chimed in from beside her. Rhys and Feyre just grinned at us, while Amren stared, clearly unimpressed.

"Do you all mind?" Cassian ground out, his hands tightening a little more around my waist. Mor just grinned and skipped into the kitchen completely undisturbed, heading for my unfinished fruit platter.

"Not at all," she said. Cassian sighed, but I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Our friends were absolutely ridiculous, but I loved them dearly. And Cassian and I had just made out in the kitchen, so I really don't think much in this world could've ruined my mood.

"Why don't the two of you go see a show or something?" Feyre suggested, following Mor into the kitchen, the other batboys following behind her. Cassian narrowed his eyes at his brothers, but I just smiled, at last stepping out of his grasp and taking his hand.

"That's a great idea, Feyre. Cass? What do you think?"

His expression softened the minute his gaze shifted to me. My heart melted.

"Sure. How about we go to Rita's after, too? Do some dancing?"

"Sounds like a plan. Just let me go get changed."

"I'll meet you back down here."

We shared a smile, and I leaned up to give Cassian one last quick kiss before turning on my heel to go get ready. Rhys and Az both smiled at me as I left the room, and I shot them a wink as I left. I would've preferred it if they'd all given Cassian and I our space tonight, but at the end of the day, we wouldn't have admitted our feelings for each other without our nosy, pushy friends. So I couldn't exactly stay mad at them, at least not this time.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[positivelyruined]

Venture back into Prythian with me tonight | chapter four of A Ballad of Thorns and Roses has been posted.

links: Ao3 | subscribe to the story to receive email notifications for updates and subscribe to my user for notification on any work I post

As always, big thank you to all of my betas, who sometimes read four different versions of these scenes before convincing me that it is good enough to move on. Bless them for joining a discord, dealing with my endless spam of questions, and continued fascination with this character and his haunting narrative. Betas: @ennawrite & @wingsdippedingold 👏👏👏

Big shoutout to both the besties who remain half the reason of why this story keeps going and one hundred percent the reason why I am brave enough to publish it. @shadowqueenjude & @sonics-atelier

my dearest, gentle readers

Tag List (1/2)

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Let me know about the interest level.

[mommyofkittens]

Masterlist

A Court of Fallen Heroes ( Azriel FanFiction )

𓆩✴𓆪 Summary 𓆩✴𓆪

It was a well known fact: the veil between the worlds grew thinner and thinner, so the possibility of a crashing was already a certainty. The rumours started a long time ago, but no one did anything to stop it. Luckily, time has passed, we went through wars and race eradications, but Faerie Realms and Mortal Lands stayed almost the same, some richer and some poorer.

Nobody was talking about the fallen, untill now, when the fates started working their old, wicked magic and gave us an early Summer Soltice gift: an unprepared girl who was sent tumbling from the sky.

Tumultuous and dangerous,

Bitter and heartbreaking.

This is the story of the Evening star.

About the young woman who holds the Sun as her weapon,

And the Moon as an ornament.

About the Cursed Crown, who chooses its own master

And about the man in the shadows, irreversibly bound to her, by the tongue of death.

And, after all, about us, the nothingness who catches a goal.

I am the Bloody Blade, former leader of the first legion, last of my kind, banished and tormented by dark memories and here is the beginning of our story.

Read on Ao3. 𓆩✴𓆪

Read on Wattpad. 𓆩✴𓆪

𓆩✴𓆪 Playlist

𓆩✴𓆪 Prologue

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 1: 3:33

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 2: " God Forbid... "

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 3: The Waking World

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 4: The Countess

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 5: Haunted

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 6: Decisions. Part I.

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 6: Decisions. Part II.

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 7: A Tale of Time

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 8: Jane Doe 𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 9: The Third One 𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 10: The Bloody Blade

𓆩✴𓆪 Chapter 11: The Vespertus

Hello, everyone! I am new to the writing experince and also English is not my first language. Hopefully, this won't interfere with my work too much. I am sorry if there are mistakes, I'll try to correct them. I didn't give up on this work, but writing one chapter is taking quite some time considering the fact that I always have to check my grammar and if the phrases make sense or if they're too long. Sometimes, when inspiration doesn't come, I write them in my own language and then translate and it takes a while too.

Also, I have exams untill mid July. Med school it's time consuming as hell. 🥲

You can also find me on Ao3 and Wattpad, I always keep my chapters updated and corrected there because it's easier to read them.

Hope you like my work! Have a great day, babes!

[theladyofdeath]

The Holiday {5}

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: We're halfway there! Thank you all for reading! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

Nesta was curled up on the couch, burger half-eaten on the coffee table, proofreading the chapter she’d been working on, when she heard a knock on the front door. She snapped her laptop closed, as she always did when she was writing, and froze. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was after eleven.

Fear shot through her for a split second until realized who it likely was.

Getting to her feet, Nesta felt the bottle of wine she’d drank in the two hours she’d been home. It may not have been the best idea to edit while drinking, but she’d go back over it in the morning.

Hugging the sweater she was wearing tighter around herself, Nesta headed for the door, murmuring something about egotistical assholes under her breath.

Before opening the door, she rose up on her toes to look through the peephole, confirming her suspicions. With a sigh, she turned the lock and braced herself for the winter night.

Cassian was standing on the top step, his arms tucked underneath each other to fend off the cold.

“It’s late,” Nesta said, before realizing it was not the best version of hello.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, although he didn’t look sorry at all. He held up a scarf that Nesta found familiar. “You left this at the bar. I told Gwyn and Em I’d get it back to you.”

“And it couldn’t wait until morning?” Nesta asked, brow arched.

“I’d probably forget by then,” he confessed with a grin. “Honestly I’m surprised you’re still up.”

Nesta scoffed. “Why? It’s eleven. Surely I don’t seem that boring.”

She didn’t bother to mention that she was usually in bed at such an hour, but judging from the gleam in Cassian’s eyes, he already knew as much. 

“Forgive my assumptions,” he said, and his tone was aggravatingly mocking. He held her scarf out once more and Nesta snatched it. “So what did you think?”

Nesta blinked. “About what?”

“Tonight,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “My set.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so direct, which was ridiculous, considering who she was talking to. Crossing her arms, Nesta shrugged. She could snap and bite, but she would never intentionally downplay someone’s talent. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was talented. “It was pretty good.”

Cassian rocked back on his heels, eyes going wide. “Was that an actual compliment?”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned, ready to close the door in his face, but he caught it. 

“Wait, wait,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

She longed to go back inside, to reclaim her cozy spot by the fire, but there was something about his warm, hazel eyes that captivated her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to stay here and verbally spar with him…and that scared the shit out of her. The whole point of this vacation was to get a break from men. This trip was about her.

But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. “Why don’t you play more of your own songs?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Drunk people don’t want to hear my originals. They want to hear Wonderwall and Freefallin’.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “Which are the opposites of all the songs us sober people want to hear.”

Cassian chuckled. “Pretty sure I saw you down a drink or two.”

“Yes, but I can hold my liquor,” Nesta crooned, eyes narrowing. It was so easy with him, this quick witted banter.

“I respect that,” Cassian said, and there was something in his eyes, something in his tone that made her toes curl and her stomach fill with anxious nausea. 

Nesta cleared her throat. She was caught somewhere between wanting to invite him in and wanting to tell him to get the hell out of her sight. She did neither. Instead, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”

That little sensual grin on his lips faltered. “For what?”

“Threatening to beat you with a frying pan,” she said, quietly. 

The laughter that tumbled out of the man before her was glorious. “It’s enlightening to find a woman who can protect herself. No apology necessary.” Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, a chill swept over her body and she shivered.

Cassian caught the motion. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. It’s late. Goodnight, Nesta.”

Nesta nodded, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “Yeah, goodnight.” He had barely made it down the front porch steps before Nesta called out, “Hey, about those originals.”

Cassian stopped to look over his shoulder.

“Who cares what the audience wants to hear,” Nesta said, keeping her eyes on the falling snow instead of Cassian’s intense gaze. “You should play them anyways. I have no doubt they’ll continue to show up to watch you play whether you’re playing the world’s most overplayed songs or not.”

His eyes softened and he smiled. “And what do I have to play to convince you to come back?”

She was sure there was a similar smile on her own face. “You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”

Before he could say anything else, she closed the door and made her way to bed, proofreading and edits long forgotten.

<.><.><.><.><.><.>

Bored.

Aelin was so very bored. She’d looked through Nesta’s bookshelves, finding quite a few books from her favorite author, but she’d read them all before. There were only so many times she could refresh Facebook before she felt like she was going crazy and Nesta’s movie collection was embarrassingly slim.

So Aelin was bored.

The sun was starting to set and not only was Aelin bored, she was hungry.

She could go for another burger, maybe a plate of onion rings, and there was a certain someone she wouldn’t mind splitting that plate of onion rings with.

But when she scrolled through her text messages, looking for the contact she’d saved as Delivery Boy, she couldn’t find it.

She couldn’t find any of her recent text messages she realized. It was like her phone had reverted back to a previous backup.

With a sigh, she tossed her phone aside. He had told her to let him know if she wanted company, and now she couldn’t even do that. Nesta’s note with his number on it had gone out in the trash the day before, and she wasn’t desperate enough to go dumpster diving.

She didn’t mind a little hunt, though. 

This town was tiny and someone who was out and about had to know where he was. Maybe she would still find him at the tree lot or maybe he was already sitting alone at the diner. There were only so many places to go in the little town and with the heaps of snow falling from the sky, she couldn’t imagine that he would leave the town limits. 

After hopping in Nesta’s car, Aelin drove at an alarmingly slow rate to the town’s heart, but when she pulled up in front of the tree lot, it was closed.

It wasn’t even 6:30, but Aelin had a feeling that things didn’t stay open as late here as they did in the city.

Her next stop was the diner, and although it was busy and full of life, there was no Rowan. Aelin sat down at the counter and ordered a grilled cheese and a cup of soup with another delicious chocolate milkshake. 

The same server from before was waiting on her and when she stopped to drop off a few extra napkins, Aelin asked, “Do you know how I can get in touch with Rowan?”

The woman lifted a brow, her eyes bright. “May I ask why?”

Aelin felt her cheeks burn. “I had his number but lost it. I was…hoping to get more firewood delivered. You know, so I don’t freeze to death.”

Her server chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t have his number. But I do know where he lives.”

Aelin blinked, eyebrows raising. “O…kay?”

The woman, more than a few years her senior, read the expression on her face and howled with laughter. “Oh, honey, nothing like that. He’s far too pretty for my taste. This is a small town, remember? He lives a few minutes up the mountain from my cousin.”

Aelin nodded, chuckling to herself, though she didn’t disagree that Rowan was pretty. “Great, could you tell me his address?”

“Don’t have that either,” she said, heading for the counter where a customer was waiting to pay. “Just look for the house with green shutters about halfway up the mountain.”

Before Aelin could thank the woman, she was greeting the father and his son and asking how their meal was. Finishing up her own meal, she glanced at the check and left cash on the table, with plenty left over for a tip. With a wave to the helpful server, she was out into the snowy Orynth night.

It wasn’t until she had passed Nesta’s cottage and continued up the mountain that she realized the unexpected flaw in her grand plan of hunting down Rowan. What if he wasn’t home? What if he was busy? Or out on a date? He hadn’t been very forthcoming when they’d talked about relationships. She hoped she wasn’t reading into things too far, but at this point, she was approaching stalker territory as she tracked him down, so she decided to see it through to the end.

However it ended.

Her nerves increased as she drove a mile, then one more, before spotting a white, two story house with green shutters. She wasn’t sure how popular green shutters were, but it wouldn’t hurt to ring the doorbell.

Aelin cut the engine and trekked through the snow. She peeked into the garage off to the side and saw Rowan’s truck. Good, she had the right place and it looked like he was home. 

With a deep breath, she ascended the stairs and rang the doorbell. When no one came, she knocked.

This time, she caught a tall shadow through the glass window and before she could form a complete, rational thought, the door was opening.

It looked like Rowan had been in the middle of laughing but when he spotted her, his smile faded into surprise. “Oh, Aelin. Hi.”

She wasn’t sure how he would respond to seeing her, but her heart sank. Feeling foolish, she said, “Hey. I’m…sorry to bother you. I just…I lost your number and the server at the diner told me—“

Rowan stepped out onto the porch and cracked the door behind him. “No, no, it’s fine. Is everything okay?” 

Aelin nodded, trying her best to come up with a random excuse. “Firewood.”

Rowan arched a brow. “Firewood?”

“I need more firewood.”

“You already went through that entire pile? It was supposed to last until you left.”

“Yes, well, I like to be warm.”

The sound of glasses clinking came from inside and it was then that Aelin realized soft music was playing, too.

Foolish.

She was so damn foolish.

“Oh, gods, you have a date,” Aelin said, backing back down the stairs. “I am so sorry.”

“No—”

“Don’t worry about the wood,” she rambled. “I’ll manage.”

“Aelin—”

“Have a good night, Rowan.” With shaking knees and cheeks that felt like they were on fire, Aelin stepped off the bottom step and into the snow with a crunch.

She had just turned her back to him when she heard, “Dad?”

Aelin froze before slowly turning back around. Behind Rowan in the now open doorway was his spitting image in leggings and a high ponytail. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and Aelin suddenly felt even more foolish as the child’s green, curious eyes studied her.

Rowan had hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at Aelin with a breathy laugh. “You, uh…caught us during our tea party.”

Aelin was stunned. Shocked. Honestly, she’d expected literally anything but this.

Rowan turned back towards the door. “Sutton, why don’t you grab us a couple more snacks from the kitchen and I’ll be right back in, yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes still on Aelin, but did as she was told. The door clicked shut and Aelin could have sworn it was the loudest noise in the world.

Rowan’s hands were shoved in his pockets and he cleared his throat. “So…”

“You have a daughter,” she said, slowly.

“I do,” he said, his voice suddenly guarded.

She took a step back towards the house and then ascended the steps again. “You never mentioned you had a daughter.” She paused as she reached the top, pausing in front of him. “You also never mentioned you had a wife.”

“I don’t,” he replied, and she immediately picked up on the note of grief she could hear in his voice. “I’m a widower. She died when Sutton was two. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” Aelin breathed, wanting to reach out and take his hand. She didn’t though, she just stood there looking up at him.

This night had taken a turn she wasn’t expecting. Not that she had a crazy amount of expectations, she really was looking for someone to spend some time with. The cottage down the mountain was cozy as could be, but she’d realized how lonely she’d been feeling.

The shrug he gave her was irreverent. “Like I said, it’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry for intruding on your night, I just thought— nevermind, it doesn’t matter.” Aelin turned, hurrying down the porch stairs again. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

“You’re leaving?”

Once again, she froze. His voice sent chills down her body as she turned to meet his gaze and that humor that had returned to his eyes. Aelin blinked. 

“At least tell me why you really came before you go,” he said, and his tone had gone quieter. 

Aelin hesitated. 

“Because we both know you have plenty of firewood,” he went on. Gods, he was taunting her. With a chuckle, he opened his mouth to say something else, to surely pick on her some more, but the front door slowly inched open again. Sutton gave Aelin a shy look before motioning for Rowan to bend down. He did, and she whispered something into his ear. 

They both looked at Aelin, who rocked back on her heels, and Rowan whispered something into his daughter’s ear.

It was clear they were talking about Aelin, and she didn’t like it one bit. But, after a minute had passed of them going back and forth, Rowan rose to full height and Sutton asked, “We’re just about to make dinner. Do you like pizza? We’re making our own and you can make one too, if you want.”

Aelin started. Once again, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but that wasn’t it. 

Aelin looked to Rowan who was watching her with a small smile. He mouthed, Sorry. You can say no. 

But Aelin took a step forward and ascended the stairs, once again. “I love homemade pizza.”

Rowan opened the door wider and beckoned her forward. “But first we have to finish our tea party.”

Sutton was hilarious. She may have looked like her father, with her green eyes and silver hair, but her bright laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, Aelin could see hints of someone else.

She found herself wondering about Rowan’s late wife as he and Sutton closed out their tea party and then they all three made their way into the kitchen. Even as Sutton bombarded her with questions about who she was and why she was here and Does the sky really sparkle in Velaris, Aelin kept thinking about Rowan’s nameless wife.

“I think that’s enough cheese,” Rowan said, raising an eyebrow as Sutton added a fourth handful to her pizza.

“You’re making yours and I’m making mine.” Her sweet voice was full of sass and Aelin already adored the little girl after spending only about an hour with her. “And mine is a cheeeeese pizza.”

Aelin met Rowan’s gaze just as he sighed, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. The smile on his lips gave him away. “Why don’t we compromise and put half of the cheese back and add something green?”

Scrunching her nose, Sutton shook her head. “Gross. Just cheese.”

“Miss Aelin has peppers and olives on her pizza,” he said, gesturing to where Aelin was assembling her own dinner. “If Miss Aelin is eating it, I bet it’s really good.”

With a wary expression, Sutton looked over at Aelin’s pizza. “Are the peppers hot?”

“Nope,” Aelin replied, popping a slice of raw bell pepper into her mouth. “They’re actually kind of sweet. Want to try?”

The little girl pursed her lips before stretching out her hand. Aelin placed a small piece into her hand and she examined it. Looking between her father and Aelin, she asked, “You promise it isn’t spicy?”

Aelin squatted down so she was on the same level where she sat at the kitchen table. “I pinky promise.”

She held out her fist to Sutton, pinky extended, and held her breath. After a moment, Sutton reached out and wrapped her pinky around Aelin’s, then she popped the pepper into her mouth.

After chewing for a minute, she made a face. “It’s not spicy but I don’t want it on my pizza.”

“You gave it a shot and that’s all that matters,” Aelin smiled, holding out her hand for a high five. “Good job.”

Sutton smacked her hand in a high five and then looked at her father. “Can I go play with my dragons, daddy?”

He ran his fingers through the length of her long ponytail. “Of course, sweetheart, I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

She bounded away and Aelin couldn’t help her chuckle. “She’s feisty, but adorable.”

He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “You’re telling me. The teenage years are going to be horrible.”

Aelin groaned, too. “Being a teenage girl…” She shook her head. “You couldn’t pay me enough to relive that.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “May the gods help me.”

Aelin laughed and watched as Rowan put all three perfectly made pizzas into the oven. She continued to watch as he closed the oven and slowly turned back to face her. He leaned back against the counter and said, softly, “I’m glad you stayed. We don’t get a lot of new people around here and Sutton has never been so intrigued with a stranger. I’m sorry if you thought the offer was weird.”

“I didn’t think it was weird,” Aelin said, stepping toward him. “And I’m glad I stayed too.”

Rowan’s eyes flickered down the hall before remeeting Aelin’s gaze. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you randomly showed up on my porch?”

“I—”

“If you lie about firewood one more time…”

Aelin huffed a laugh. “I think you already know the answer.”

“Maybe,” he confessed, “but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it.”

Aelin sighed then shrugged. Her heart was racing and a nausea that she didn’t seem to hate was filling her stomach. “I guess I wanted to see you.”

His smile was something to behold as he said, “I wanted to see you, too.”

“You did?” Her voice was high and breathy, but as he pushed off the counter and approached her, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“I was actually planning to call you tomorrow,” he said, pausing in front of her.

She squeaked. “You were?” Apparently, she was unable to speak more than two words at a time.

“I was.” He looked down the hall again, listening for approaching footsteps. “Sutton is staying the night with her grandma tomorrow night. I know you’re having dinner with me tonight, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Like a date?” Aelin asked, breathless.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah, like a date.”

Aelin swallowed. “You do realize that I’m only here for another week, right?”

“I do,” he said, quietly, his head cocked to the side. “And I’d still like to take you out, even if it’s just this once.”

There was something spontaneously romantic about the idea of a one time date, of a night where two people could go all out because they may never see one another again. And this man before her, this gorgeous man who was weakening her knees, could without a doubt give her one hell of a night.

“Pick me up at seven?” She asked, and she had the urge to step close to him, to take his hand, to brush her fingertips along his cheek, but she wouldn’t, not tonight when his daughter was just down the hall.

“Seven,” he breathed and nodded, just as the oven timer went off.

[burningvillage]

THE QUEEN OF SORROWS

To fall is often better than to rise.

Hybern's death has left an empty throne and a widowed Queen Consort. The situation is dire and Rheia's rise to power has her with more questions than answers. Against all better judgement, she sets her sights to strike an alliance with the very same people her late husband fought against. Although her return to Prythian has been a long time coming, it seems her only chance of survival is alligning herself with the most infamous of the Seven Courts.

PAIRING: Azriel x Tamlin's sister!Oc

CW: Politics; Misoginy; Forced Marriage; SMUT

TW: sexual trauma; abuse; self-harming;

Each and every chapter will be properly flagged for any triggering argument treated.

It is expected to be a slow-update fic, since I'm a uni student and have to proof-read everything myself. I'm working to get at least five chapters ready before starting to post officially.

I'm more used to Ao3 so the format could be weird! Hopefully I'll learn in a few.

I'll see you soon.

[ursulanoodles]

🦇Wings and Shadows🦇

In case anyone is interested, I uh... wrote a porny ACOTAR Azriel/OC one-shot. It's not super fleshed out or anything (heh heh), but it was just a fun little thing I wanted to get out of my head. It was nice to step out of SDV for a minute.

I might honestly do an Az/Rhys/Cass/OC for even more funsies at some point, but I'll definitely make that more graphic and put more thought into it because uhhhhh reasons lol.

Is it hot in here? No? Just me? 😳

[folklorianhaze]

elevator buttons & evening air

Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand (Feysand)

Rating: T

Tags: One Shot, Alternate Universe — Modern Setting, Rivals to Lovers, Flirting, might turn this into a longfic later, Banter, Claustrophobia, Feyre suffers from millenial ennui, Unresolved Romantic Tension

Word Count: 5291

Summary: Meet Feyre — an exhausted, overworked attorney working for Vanserra and Co. Law Offices. She wants nothing more than to prove herself, but in the past year that she's been working here, she can't help but feel underestimated and talked down to by her boss, Beron, and her coworkers.

All of them are just the worst, she thinks, but she might hate Rhysand more than any of them. Maybe it's because of the way he looks at her sometimes from across the room, like he can actually see her, like he knows exactly what she's thinking and knows that she's settling for far less than she deserves. She hates it when he gets smug like that.

So, of course, fate has them getting stuck in an elevator together as they're both trying to leave work one evening.

Well, Feyre guesses she might as well get cozy.

Read it on AO3 here!

Feyre Archeron stared at her computer monitor and tried to convince herself that her eyes weren’t, in fact, actually literally bleeding from how many times they’d scanned over the same words over the past few hours.

She blinked, as if finally remembering that such a thing was indeed a function of her body, and sighed as she leaned back in her swivel chair. Her back made several resounding popping noises that weren’t entirely unpleasant. With a grimace, she massaged a searing tightness in her left shoulder, and cursed herself for once again forgetting her posture. She slouched badly when distracted — and well, it was hard to remain exactly riveted when one had to review the same case file with a fine-toothed comb over and over again ad nauseam.

Feyre pushed her chair back farther from her desk and treated herself to a quick stretch. Still seated, leaning her back as far into the chair as she thought she could go without risking it tipping over. (Not that it had ever happened before. Of course not.) She even dared to bring her arms over her head and let the muscles in her shoulders stretch themselves out. Imagined herself as a vine reaching for a few precious rays of sunlight.

The chair creaked pathetically beneath her movements. Like most of the furniture that decorated the glorified supply closet she called her office, it was sad, cheap, and sagging. And gray. This was a very gray space, despite her feeble attempts to give the room a little color so she wouldn’t go insane in here. But when she’d accepted this position, she’d only had enough money on hand to cover purchasing a new, more professional wardrobe for herself, and had promised herself she’d make do furnishing the space they’d given her with whatever chairs and futons she’d had leftover from her law school-era apartment. Clearly, it hadn’t worked, and the result was ramshackle and stripped of identity. Anyone could occupy this space, and you’d have no idea who they were just from looking around at it. 

Certainly nothing in this room, with its eggshell walls and windows too far up to let in any quantifiable amount of light, could compete with the shiny baubles and fucking velvet chaises decorating her boss, Beron Vanserra’s office. But seeing as he’d owned this firm for twenty years now, Feyre supposed that was to be expected. He’d had time and experience (and certainly, he’d had wealth well before even becoming a lawyer) that had helped him arrive at such a level of comfort.

She’d only been with Vanserra & Co. for about a year now — a shorter time than anyone else here, still the newbie so far. But in that time, she’d only scarcely seen Beron emerge from behind the doors to his office, although she saw various suit-wearing types popping in and out regularly during the weeks for scheduled meetings. Or evil scheming, or whatever it was they all did in there.

Enigmatic figure that he was, it seemed like everyone in the firm was constantly feuding for Beron’s attention. A few months ago, when he’d wanted a younger, fresher face to help handle a particularly time-consuming pharmaceutical company merger, it had been practically a bloodbath. Feyre couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. You would’ve thought he was standing in front of a chocolate factory, waving around a fucking Golden Ticket, she thought, shaking her head. Though it wouldn’t be entirely truthful if she said she hadn’t been interested in the opportunity, too. 

Of course, none of them had been surprised when that had gone to Rhysand. He was one of the best younger hires here, even if it physically pained Feyre to admit it.

Didn’t stop him from being a dickhead, though.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap as her memories traveled inexorably to just a few months ago, to the office holiday party. The glitter of Christmas lights in the background, Frank Sinatra crooning over the speakers, and the look in Rhysand’s eyes as he’d sauntered up to her. She tried not to think of the conversation they’d had that night too often. Tried even harder to ignore the sudden dryness in her throat whenever she remembered what he’d looked like from up close, the way his violet stare had pinned her to the spot.

The way he always seemed to see her. Not through her, but directly into her, as if all her secret vulnerabilities and passions and thoughts were splayed out on an open table for him to observe. But there was never any eagerness in that steady gaze, no — just a curiosity, as if he were patient and content enough to study all of her from afar. As if that were all it would take to parse out the truth of her, because perhaps he already understood it.

She hated him a little bit for that.

Feyre pushed herself out of her seat, needing to banish thoughts of Rhysand as quickly as they’d settled onto her. She hated giving him that power, making him someone that could reduce her to a pacing, fretting thing. She told herself instead that she just needed to stand after hunching over her computer for so long — and anyway, as she glanced at the clock, she realized that it was just about time for her to wrap up here and head home. 

So, as luck would have it, standing was necessary and not at all a byproduct of being hung-up and moony over her obnoxious coworker.

She snatched her coat from where she’d draped it over the futon on her way in this morning — she should probably get a coat rack, would it be more professional to have a coat rack? Pulling it on and gathering her things, she headed for the door and gave the room a final cursory glance. Computer turned off, notes all tucked away and ready to last the weekend in this dark little hole of an office. It was as good as it was ever going to get. Satisfied, Feyre nodded to herself and headed out for the evening, locking the door behind her on the way.

The building was quiet this evening, the assorted desks and sofas and squat little modern chairs casting tall, thin shadows along the walls. Now that she’d stepped out into the common area (which actually had windows, she thought bitterly) she could see it was nearly full dark outside. 

Fuck. Had she really stayed so late? She was lucky the cleaning crew hadn’t locked her in.

Huffing an exasperated sigh, she headed for the elevators, trying her best not to think about how spectacularly creepy this place looked at night. Like a ghost town, or something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. As she reached the elevator doors, she slammed the button, and told herself she wasn’t being frantic, just efficient. She hugged her coat closer to her body and bounced restlessly on the balls of her feet. It seemed chillier in here with all the people gone.

She hardly even noticed anyone was behind her until she heard a familiar voice drawl, “Funny seeing you here, Archeron.”

Well, you know what they say, Feyre, she thought to herself. Speak of the devil . . .

Stomach fluttering, Feyre slowly turned around and came face-to-face with the very man she’d hoped to avoid all day. In all his smirking, arrogant glory.

“Hello, Rhysand,” she sighed, fixing him with a saccharine smile so tight that her teeth ground together. “You do realize I work here too, right?”

He returned her smile with one of his own, something like wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. “And how am I supposed to forget that? I think you’ll find someone as charming as yourself tends to be remembered, whether you want to or not.” Somehow, he made it sound as if it were both a compliment and insult in the same breath.

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks for that, I guess,” she snorted.

“An actual thank you from Feyre Archeron? Oh, day of days!”

She barely managed to reign in an eye-roll at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Still, something lightly teasing in his words tugged at the corners of her lips, made her tempted to crack the barest traces of an amused smirk. She fought it, stifled the instinct to laugh, and instead folded her arms protectively across her chest. He spoke to her like he knew her, like . . . like they were actually friends.

Was that what they were? After that night at the holiday party, were they anything at all anymore? Or were things between them forever destined to just hover in this strange, uncomfortable stagnation, both of them tiptoeing around it?

Feyre cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the elevator. Of course, it had to choose tonight, of all nights, to be so damn slow. When she returned her gaze to Rhysand, though, his expression had relaxed into careful neutrality — as if he were indeed simply waiting for the elevator, just like her, and didn’t intend to cause her any further trouble. In his hands he clutched a sleek black briefcase — which matched his equally-sleek black suit. His raven-feather hair gleamed oily blue-black in the low light.

“Working on something important tonight?” he said at last, making small talk when the silence had drawn on just long enough to edge into discomfort.

Feyre blinked, bemused by the question, then realized. “Oh — oh, no, not really. I mean, yes, I guess it is, but not . . . I don’t know, not important enough for me to have spent this much time on it. I don’t know why I stayed so late tonight. I don’t usually fall into my work like that.”

“You’re meticulous,” he said, and she couldn’t quite determine if it was a simple observation or if he’d intended to flatter her with it. “When you really care about something, that is. You hold yourself to high standards.”

Enough heat rushed to her cheeks that Feyre ducked her head slightly, hoping the curtain of her auburn hair would block him from seeing how deeply his words had resonated. Even if he’d just meant it as a passing detail he’d noticed, it had hit with more certainty than he knew. They’d worked on a few cases together in the past, but she hadn’t really thought he’d even paid attention to anything like that.

At last, the elevator gave a feeble ding to announce its arrival. The doors slid lethargically open, and Feyre tried to ignore their metal whining as she stepped in. Only four floors, and then she’d be out again. She’d always hated elevators, but especially this thing — though the rest of the office was fairly nice and new, this elevator was old and unreliable and finicky. Hopefully the trip to the lobby wouldn’t take as long as it had taken for it to get up here in the first place.

Rhysand trailed in after her, and the doors closed behind his back. Inside the elevator, the lighting was a sallow yellow, a single flickering bulb over their heads. The floors beneath them were fraying carpet, and the walls were plastered with posters advertising all the varied and oh-so-exciting things one could pursue legal action for. Beron Vanserra’s grinning face leered at her from one of them. She tried not to make eye contact with it for too long.

“What about you?” Feyre finally asked. “Were you working on anything, er—” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “—special?”

Rhysand gave a snort of derision. 

“You could say that,” he said. “Although I suspect it serves Beron’s interests more than my own.”

Feyre shrugged, but didn’t bother asking him to elaborate. After all, no one in the office was at all surprised whenever Rhysand got handed these flashy, fancy assignments. In comparison, she supposed her menial work was embarrassing, juvenile. She tried not to bristle at the thought.

Before either of them could say anything else, the elevator gave a shudder beneath their feet. Groaned in protest like some slumbering beast that had woken up to discover them resting in its mouth. There was a piercing clanking noise, the squeal of metal on cables — above them, the light flickered on and off so quickly that it was nearly dizzying — Feyre’s hand shot out to the nearest wall to keep herself steady —

— and with a thud, the elevator came to a grinding halt in the middle of its track, before it could reach the ground floor.

“Shit,” Rhysand cursed colorfully, his voice right by Feyre’s ear, holding her steady as if he’d —

— he’d reached out to keep her from falling or injuring herself.

Feyre opened her mouth, nearly too stunned to speak, but before any words could tumble out, the light overhead flickered one last time.

And then went out entirely.

Their breaths rasped noisily in the heavy darkness, both of them holding as still as possible in case the slightest movement sent them careening out of control again. Rhysand’s hand still pressed against the curve of her waist, holding her steady in the dark. She found herself only dimly aware of the heat of his touch. But at that moment, it wasn’t an entirely unwelcome sensation. In fact, Feyre felt rather grateful someone else was here with her.

Grateful that she wasn’t alone, because . . .

“Oh my god,” she finally breathed, her voice a thin wobble. “Oh my god, we’re stuck in here.”

How had she never noticed what a tight space this was before? And now that it was so dark that she could barely even tell if her eyes were open, now that it was difficult to even see her hands in front of her face . . . her chest tightened, hands shaking at her sides.

“Take a deep breath,” Rhysand told her, his voice carefully smooth, as if he were doing his best to hold back his own worries for her sake. “It’s going to be alright. Hang on just a second, okay, Feyre?”

Feyre nodded, too consumed with the cold creep of anxiety in the pit of her stomach to bother with quipping back at him about whether or not he had the right to boss her around. And slowly, purposefully, she did as he said, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. As she exhaled on a shudder, she found herself still sick with needle-sharp worry, but the sensation had dulled somewhat. As if she could hold it at bay for just a little longer.

She heard rather than saw Rhys fumble in the darkness. Then, in the next instant, a square of light blossomed between them, bathing the elevator car in the white-blue shine of the flashlight on his cell phone. The light cast his features into stark relief, his eyes flashing at her across the distance.

“At least now we can see,” he murmured. “Hold tight. I’m going to try and get the emergency button working, see if we can call anybody with that. I don’t think my phone has enough bars in here on its own.”

Feyre nodded shakily, raking her fingers through her hair. “Fuck,” she exhaled under her breath. Then again, a bit louder: “Fuck! I can’t believe this fucking happened to me!”

From over where he stood fiddling with the elevator buttons, Rhys gave a low chuckle. “Quite a mouth on you,” he said, as if he found this endlessly amusing. “Are you sure that’s workplace appropriate?”

Feyre muttered something darkly under her breath in response that she hoped Rhysand couldn’t hear — something about “working this foot up your ass” that she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate.

Or maybe he would, given how exceedingly funny he’d seemed to find her cursing.

Whatever Rhys did seemed to work, and the elevator filled with the staticky, distinctly pathetic sound of the emergency button dialing rescue services for them. She willed herself to feel at least a little relief to take the edge off those razor-sharp nerves. At least now there would be people who knew they were here, who were coming to get them. 

When someone answered on the other end of the line, he explained to them smoothly, calmly, what had happened. Perhaps Feyre would have felt compelled to interject on her own, but she was still too shaken — too focused on keeping her lunch from earlier down in her stomach where it belonged. On any other occasion, she might have bristled at the idea of letting Rhysand take the reins, but in this case, she didn’t mind relinquishing responsibility. Especially since it was just now starting to feel as if she could breathe normally again.

Of course this would happen with Rhysand, of all people, here with her. Of course he would have to see her like this, so . . . vulnerable. So afraid. Because it wouldn’t have been easier for her at all to have just been able to keep him at a distance, after all this time. No, she couldn’t have that.

“They’ll be on their way soon,” he told her, standing from where he’d crouched near the emergency button and making his way back over to her. “In the meantime . . . I suppose we might as well get comfortable, hm?”

He sighed, then looked up. And, as if noticing her face for the first time:

“Feyre,” he said. “Are you alright?”

Feyre glanced up from where she’d been pointedly studying her shoes, concentrating on anything but the way the world seemed to sway dizzily around her. Rhysand’s eyes searched her face, something she thought looked startlingly close to genuine concern furrowing his brow. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, gave a few stilted little nods. Tried for a wan little smile that even she could tell didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m — yes, I’m fine,” she finally managed. “I just — ah, this is embarrassing . . . I don’t do tight spaces. It, uh, freaks me out a little.”

Something barely perceptible in his expression softened, and Feyre’s stomach twisted. Great. Now she supposed he’d pity her or something. Still, she held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her entirely crumble before him. Help would be on the way soon, as he’d said — she only needed to endure this for a while longer. She could manage that.

She could manage being here with him, all those words unsaid lingering much too heavily in the air between them.

“In that case,” he said, settling into a crouch, and then lowering himself fully into a sitting position on the elevator floor. “Why don’t you take a seat by me? We’ll talk about something else to pass the time. Keep your mind off of it until they get here to let us out.” He patted the empty space beside him. “Unfortunately, this is the one day I neglected to bring snacks with me to work, so . . . we’ll have to go hungry for now, but at least I’m never short on sparkling conversation.” And then he winked at her, a conspirator’s grin on his tan face.

Despite herself, a smile twitched at the edges of Feyre’s mouth, a dry laugh huffing from her almost involuntarily. “I think I have some old Tic-Tacs in the bottom of my purse,” she said. “I guess if we start starving to death in here, we’ll have those to fall back on.”

His laugh in return was surprisingly warm, a richer, freer sound than she’d expected from someone who she’d scarcely ever heard speak about anything other than work. Maybe that alone was enough to convince her — or maybe she was just frightened and desperate for anything to steer her thoughts away from this literal nightmare scenario she’d wandered into. Whatever the reason, Feyre didn’t care to think too deeply on it as she at last relented, and lowered herself onto the floor at Rhysand’s side.

“Even if we are trapped in here,” he sighed when she’d settled into place, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy for the chance to talk to you, anyway. It feels like it’s been forever since . . . since we were able to just talk.” 

She didn’t miss how his eyes found hers towards the end of his sentence, nor the beat of silence that passed between them afterward that felt just a bit too significant and pointed for her to completely ignore. Feyre cleared her throat, swallowed unevenly. Anything to avoid answering, to not think about the last time they’d been so close, the way she’d thought for a moment or two that — that he might have even kissed her —

With a shiver she hoped was too small for Rhysand to see in the dark, she nodded and said, “Yeah. I’ve just been really busy. You know how it is.”

The knowing smile on his face said he didn’t buy it for a second, but he humored her. “Of course. But I don’t want to waste these precious few minutes talking shop with you, Feyre darling. Why don’t you tell me what else has been going on lately?”

“What else?” she repeated blankly.

“Sure,” said Rhys. “You must have what we like to call a life outside of that sad excuse for an office. I’d like to hear about it. Know more about what interests you outside of writing brilliant contracts and reviewing case files.”

She tried to ignore the way the subtle, casual compliment — brilliant contracts, spoken as smoothly as if it were an irrefutable fact. Tried, and failed, to ignore the way it sang all the way through her, resonating to the bone. She’d always thought that her work, her meticulous attention to detail, had gone relatively unnoticed. Why had it never occurred to her that Rhys would have kept a close eye on it — would have not only remembered, but respected, the effort she put into it all?

“Well . . .” she said with a shrug, hating the way her sentence trailed off so sadly. She might as well have had a big, blinking I HAVE NO LIFE OR FRIENDS OUTSIDE OF MY WORKPLACE sign strapped to her forehead. When was the last time she had allowed herself to be truly happy, to lift her nose from her desk and take joy in the world around her? “Um, I went to a painting class a few weeks ago.”

Maybe the answer was embarrassing and stupid, maybe something like that was nothing to be proud of at all. But it was something — more importantly, it was the last time she could remember really caring about something outside of work. The last time she’d really felt free to express the tangled mess of jumbled-up emotion in the pit of her stomach, to get it out onto a blank canvas and leave some sort of indelible mark upon the world. It was no masterpiece, but she’d created it, and that was enough.

Before landing this job — before getting into law school, really — she’d painted almost constantly. Her tiny apartment that had seen her so bravely through all the drama of undergrad had been cluttered nearly to the brim with filled-up canvases and painting supplies, vivid and bursting with color. Ideas had come to her as naturally as breathing, and back then she’d had the time and energy to devote to nurturing them as they came up.

Now, whenever she tried to reach for the part of her that wanted to paint again, it was like reaching down into an empty hole, her fingers digging up nothing but dust. And occasionally there would be a glimmer, the barest hint of inspiration, but work and the obligations of day-to-day life would stifle it. It was always later now, I’ll do it later, paint it later, but when later inevitably rolled around, she was too exhausted or distracted to devote any time to anything beyond surviving.

She missed the feeling that creating had given her. And wanted it back more than anything. But to admit that to Rhys . . . she wasn’t sure if she could yet.

“That’s good,” Rhys said, and he genuinely seemed to mean it. “I remember you mentioned it before — the painting. Making time for things like that is important when you work that hard.” He seemed to think about it for a moment, then added, “What sort of things do you like to paint?”

Feyre blinked, nonplussed. She wasn’t sure if anyone had actually asked her about that before. Most peoples’ eyes tended to start glazing over the minute she started talking about painting.

“Uh, well, I usually like to go for a more impressionistic style. I like the suggestion of something, rather than a realistic interpretation. Like . . . like whatever moment or subject I’m depicting, it isn’t there anymore, and I’m . . . I’m just painting the mark it left behind.” She gave a soft chuckle. “Sorry. That probably sounds confusing and weird and . . .” her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “Sorry.”

“No — please, don’t apologize,” said Rhys. “I mean it. I like hearing about your process. I’m not much of an artist, myself. Creative people fascinate me in that way. My cousin Mor, she designs dresses for a living — talks my ear off about it all the time. I’m sure she’d froth at the mouth to have you as her captive audience,” he laughed.

Feyre couldn’t help it, and smiled at the idea. “She sounds great,” she said. “Especially if she really annoys you as much as it seems.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know you said that.”

“Then by all means, tell her for me.”

They fell into laughter again, the sound soft and quiet in the darkness of the elevator. Feyre found herself surprised by it — the warmth of the moment. The ease and comfort of the two of them sitting together, just talking. Perhaps she’d missed his company these past few months a bit more than she’d initially realized.

And from there, it was as if they’d never had a disagreement before at all. Talking was so easy — so natural — that they fell into conversation without any struggle whatsoever. Just chatting about whatever happened to come to mind: work drama they’d both witnessed from the sidelines, cringe-inducing jokes they’d overheard in the break room, even down to the new television shows they’d been watching. It was pleasant, maybe even something close to fun, though she wasn’t sure if she’d admit that. 

Somehow, it seemed as if she’d known Rhysand for much longer than a year; and even so, she got the sense that there was more to learn. And, in spite of herself, she wanted to know it all. Wanted to take the time to find it all out.

Eventually, their conversation slowed to a natural, comfortable silence. Still, as their laughter died out, something about the air between them became charged. Somehow, she sensed without even asking that his thoughts had traveled to a similar place to her own — and she wasn’t entirely sure if that frightened her or not. Perhaps a small, hidden part of her wanted to know that Rhysand had missed her, delighted in the fact that he, too, seemed to be wondering whether or not this tiptoeing around what they both refused to talk about was worth it. It comforted her, on some strange level, to imagine that the words she so desperately wanted to say were just on the tip of his tongue, too.

It was Rhysand who broke the silence, as if that pressing quiet was too much for him to stand. “I just want you to take care of yourself, Feyre,” he murmured, as if it were some secret confession. “I know I might not always have given you reason to believe that—” here he huffed a laugh, full of irony, “—but it’s true. I just . . . hm. Let’s just say this place would be much too boring without you.”

Feyre looked down at her lap. Carefully studied her interlaced fingers. “Rhys . . .” she whispered, unable to bring herself to say anything else. Unable to trust what might come out if she did.

“Look, just . . . don’t forget to take time to care for yourself, too, okay?” he said at last, his tone lightening a bit. “Work is one thing, but . . . you deserve to do the things that make you happy. Without any guilt or shame for it.”

The smile returned to her face, this time as its own rueful shadow. It was a nice sentiment, to be sure, but . . . “Yeah, well, find me the time and energy to do something more than just work, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Rhys elbowed her, but the movement was gentle, teasing. “Alright, smartass. Maybe I’ll just have to take you to a painting class myself sometime.”

Feyre snorted, her grin becoming more genuine now. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it, Rhysand.”

She could sense him working up a reply, and nearly opened her mouth to interrupt him before he could get it out — but both of them were stunned into silence as the lights flickered overhead, and, miraculously, sprung back on. Feyre squinted, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, even as relief flooded her stomach.

They were getting out — the rescue crew had gotten here, they were finally going to fix this fucking thing!

It was more of an effort than she thought it would be to be happy about it — to not think about the fact that she didn’t know when she’d next get an excuse to talk to Rhysand again. Not just the two of them, like it was tonight.

She didn’t want to think too much about why she even wanted that to begin with. After all, she hated Rhys. Hadn’t she just been thinking earlier about how obnoxious and insufferable he was? No, it certainly wouldn’t be much of a loss.

When at last they’d been pulled from the gaping maw of the elevator, the doors hauled open so they could wriggle their way between them, she made her best effort to avoid direct eye contact with Rhysand. Speaking with him so candidly in the darkness had been one thing, but in the harsh lighting of the now-deserted parking garage, she felt too bare under his gaze. Too raw from everything she’d revealed, embarrassed by the vulnerabilities she’d laid before his feet. They’d gone back into the real world now, and . . . well, she’d have to work hard to draw those lines back again.

Even if she maybe didn’t entirely mind that they’d been crossed.

“Do you need me to walk you to your car?” Rhysand asked, breath fogging out in front of his face. The face that had been, mere minutes ago, so close to hers in the darkness. Feyre shook her head mutely, and he answered, “Alright. Then . . . take care. And if you don’t mind, shoot me a text when you get home safely?”

A card from his pocket, pressed into her hands. His number scrawled on it, the warmth of his hand still bleeding into the paper. Feyre’s fingers curled around it, and she nodded again, pointedly ignoring the heat blazing in her cheeks.

His fingers gave hers one last tiny, barely-there squeeze before he allowed his hand to fall to his side again. “It was good talking to you tonight.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, finally allowing her eyes to meet his. “You too, Rhys. I’ve . . .” Well, she might regret it, but screw it, wasn’t she on some kind of honesty streak, anyway? It would be a shame to break it. “I think I’ve missed you lately.”

Something unreadable flickered in his gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly in its usual crooked grin. This time tinged with something strangely close to sadness, something that made her stomach twist inside her.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Pregnancy (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: none

You’re actually surprised it takes you so long to become pregnant (ya know considering that all three of them just rail into you multiple times a day lol)

When you start feeling like actual shit day in and day out, Rhys had Madja come over to evaluate you

And what do you know! You got a bun in the oven!

Cue your mates happily freaking out that there’s going to be a baby

They don’t even ask or question who the father is in the beginning. It’s too soon to do any paternity tests

Rhysand and Cassian become the nesters; prepping the nursery, hiring a fleet of nannies and guards for the precious heir

There was a dangerous side effect to being pregnant with one of the Bat Boy's babies were the powers it gave you. Hormone induced powers

You were stronger but more cautious around people, even your mates, and easy to snap; all to protect the precious life growing inside you.

Outside of the Inner Circle, no one else knows. Your pregnancy is kept secret for the first few months (though Cass wants to shout from the top of the House of Wind that he’s gonna be a daddy)

This is done mainly because you rue when the lords of the Court of Nightmares find out

The rest of the realm may rejoice, but the Court of Nightmares has always sneered your way and thought of you as a glorified whore

You knew they’d insist immediately on a paternity test. They would not bend the knee to a child that was not of Rhysand’s blood. If the father of your first born happened to be Cassian or Azriel, there could be a fight back

Once news of your pregnancy is released, there was a type of press conference below in the nightmare court

Like all of you predicted, they raise a big stink about paternity

A child of the spy master or the general would not be accepted on the throne

A glimpse of Rhysand's beast form shuts them up. Azriel's shadows aid in emphasizing the massive power they had compared to all of the fae in the room

"Fate destined her as our mate. Whoever the child truly belongs to is inconsequential. Any child birthed from her is worthy of the Night Court throne."

When Azriel isn’t doing work for Rhysand, he is glued to your side or has a shadow following you. He’s especially concerned since he heard talk of murdering you and your unborn baby. A threat like that would not be taken lightly.

All three of your mates love placing their hands on your belly, anticipating a reaction from the baby

Cassian is determined to get the baby to kick for him

I think they would just become puddly, mushy, dads to be.

The Bat Boys wish their respective mothers were alive to share in this joy

Because their big boys, unfortunately that means your baby will be a big one if the size of your tummy was any indication

Midnight snackies provided by the Wraiths without prompting. They know all of your favorite foods

Amren bets the baby belongs to Rhys

Mor thinks its Az

You actually bet it’s Cass’ due to how active the baby is. Constantly kicking you and the funny fact that the baby would REFUSE to kick against Cassian’s hand. Az and Rhys have gotten the baby to kick for them

When the baby has grown large enough inside of you, a paternity test is conducted just for the sake of the Inner Circle's curiosity. You don't want to know the results. Besides, once the baby is born, you'll know.

The dreams you'd been having recently were of a small boy, a mix of features that came from each of your mates. Rhysand's eyes. Cassian's unruly, long hair. Azriel's massive wings that had whisps of shadows clinging to them.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin

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[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter One

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

Three years later…

Nesta Archeron made a lot of mistakes in her life. In the seventh grade she accidentally told a secret that wasn’t hers to share. When she did her online classes during high school she had forgotten about an entire English project and simply had to take the failing grade. But this current mistake, as she smelled of cheap beer and liquor. This was by far the worst mistake she’s ever made as she stepped out of the Uber facing the Velaris Courthouse.

Bile rose in her throat, the contents of the alcohol gaining an upperhand. She gulped then massaged her face, putting color into her cheeks. It would all be okay. I’ve been fine in the past. I’ll be fine now.

She climbed the marble steps before entering the courthouse, finding the room her case was assigned too. 

“Where is your client, Mr. Vanserra? I won’t ask again.”

“I’m sorry, your honor. She’ll be here any minute.” 

Ah fucking shit. Eris might just pull out all of his hair for this.

Heads swung as Nesta opened the court door, keeping her head low. She wore an old dress that most definitely had a ripped somewhere and her heels seemed to be wobbly. Or was that herself being wobbly?

Eris greeted her quietly before glaring at her. He pulled his head near her’s.

“Your have to be fucking kidding me right now. Are you actually drunk right now, Nesta?”

Nesta made a motion with her head to show somewhat as an answer. Eris sighed heavily before turning to the judge.

“You honor, my client has appeared now. I think we can start now.”

The judge peered down at Nesta. Her silvery eyes and black hair bob made Nesta squirm slightly.

“Listen young lady. If you’re ever late to court again, there'll be a lot more trouble given to you.” The judge said before continuing.

“You pleaded guilty for driving under the influence and as this would be your second offense, your consequences fit your crime.”

Nesta swayed back and forth, the nerves lingering in her body. She dropped her chin a little and looked over her shoulder. Near the back was her baby sister, Feyre. And at her side was her long-term boyfriend, Rhysand Valyrian. Feyre’s face was written in disappointment while Rhysand shot glares at Nesta.

Better watch out, buddy. Your face might get stuck like that.

“Miss Archeron, did you hear me?” The judge called out.

Nesta jolted, coming back to reality. “I’m sorry, Judge.”

Eris groaned, his hand already in his hair.

“It’s your honor, girl.”

“Yes, your honor.”

The judge began flipping through a packet in front of her.

“I will not be repeating myself after this, Miss Archeron.” She paused before continuing. “As you pleaded guilty this will not be entering an official trial. I would sentence you to the Dusk Court Prison if it was solely up to me Miss Archeron.” 

Nesta’s heart began to speed up. Prison was really on the table this time when she spoke with Eris last; the night she made bail.

The judge sighed. “But after a loved one sent in a letter I’m afraid their decision had swayed me. Nesta Archeron, you will not be sentenced to prison.”

What felt like a collection of relieved sighs happened across the room. However Nesta must have imagined it.

“You will serve three hundred and seventy-five hours of community service while on probation. You will meet with your lawyer and parole officer once a week. If things go over well we can look into extending the meetings every two weeks.” 

“Your license will be suspended for 1 year. You will be attending mandatory Alcoholics Anonymous sessions in the area you’ll be staying in.” 

Nesta gripped her wrist, nails digging into her skin.

“Finally, you will be volunteering at the House of Wind Therapeutic Ranch in Windhaven. You will not be allowed to leave the site unless otherwise approved by the staff or mandated such as the sessions.”

Her stomach dropped. Freezing water dumped over her entire body.

A ranch?

“Your honor, is this a horse ranch?” 

The judge looked down at her with a deadpan stare. “Yes, Miss Archeron. This is a ranch that involves horses. Although there may be other animals there too. Is that a problem?”

Nesta shook her head. No, no, no. This couldn’t be right.

“No, your honor. I’m not qualified to work there. I’ll take the–” but before Nesta could continue, Eris squeezed her shoulder roughly. He glared at her, his rusted color eyes glancing at her silvery blues.

“Your honor, my client doesn’t understand how this is a tremendous opportunity given to her. She will take it. Won’t you, Miss Archeron?” Eris squeezed harder, Nesta wincing. Her breath drew heavier, a faint memory of hands on her before.

There was no escaping. This was her consequence.

“...Yes, your honor. I understand.”

“I’m glad that you do. You’ll be needed at the ranch by nightfall tonight. If you cannot arrange a ride, the court will order one for you. If you break any of these rules, Miss Archeron, the consequences will escalate to a higher degree. Do I make myself clear?”

Nesta nodded. “Yes, your honor.”

The gavel’s sound bounced across the rooms. The sentencing was finished. Dread filled her veins while Eris stepped away from her, packing his things. She looked behind her again to see Feyre standing there, arms crossing over her chest. Rhysand had just walked out the door.

Nightfall came as Nesta sat in the passenger seat of Feyre’s truck. Technically it was their father’s old truck, but he passed it down to her shortly after her high school graduation. The fabric seats were torn with threads peeling and mysterious stains that Nesta didn’t need to know more of.

The car ride was filled with so much silence, it was like a third person was in the truck. Nesta kept picking at the skin, creating bloody hangnails. The radio wasn’t on either. Nesta loved music, but Feyre looked like she wanted silence. Her sister’s eyes kept on the road, both hands on the wheel. Driving through the highways then onto backroads, Feyre and Nesta made their way to the town of Windhaven. Approximately an hour outside Velaris.

There was humid mist in the air as rain drizzled from the sky. The windshield wipers rubbed against the glass. Nesta winced every time the wipers made a sound.

Red lights reflected on the puddles on the two lane road. The car came to a stop. And then Feyre sighed.

“Nesta, I love you. You’re my sister. But I can’t keep doing this.”

“I can’t keep reliving this nightmare of my family dying because of alcohol. Mom and dad died because they drank themselves to death.”

Nesta’s hand curled into her palm. Bitter words were hanging off her tongue and she did nothing to stop them.

“You need to get over dad’s death. It was almost three years ago. And secondly you need to get a new car, Fey.”

Fey was the nickname Nesta and Elain had decided for her when their sister was born. It had been stuck like that since. Feyre winced at her old nickname. The light turned green, and Feyre drove again.

Silence came in between them once more, as Feyre made a turn onto a dirt road. Some of the street lamps were on, illuminating pastures and arenas. Nesta’s stomach turned at the once familiar sight.

“That’s not fair, Nesta.” Feyre counted as she pulled up to a house, putting the old truck in park.

“You’re the one literally dating Daddy Warbucks. He could give you the moon if you wanted. Maybe ask for a new car or some shit.”

“You will leave Rhysand out of this. He has nothing to do with this. And Nesta…IF you don’t change your ways, I will make sure you will not meet my child. I will not have that in their life.” 

Nesta sat stunned in the quietness of the truck. Her gaze went from Feyre’s face to her stomach then back to Feyre.

“I love you, Nesta. But after this, no more. I will not let you be a burden to my life anymore. I will not have my child witness that.”

Nesta’s lip trembled slightly before she roughly opened the door and grabbing her stuff from the back seat. She didn’t look as she marched on forward, her suitcases and backpack in hand trailing behind her. As she climbed the porch to the front door, it suddenly swung open.

A man, a tall man, stood in the doorway. His long hair in a half up half down style as he leaned against the frame. The wheels of the truck became distant as Nesta looked up at him.

“So, Nesta Archeron. We finally meet after all this time. Welcome to your new home.” He stood inside, ushering her in.

“Prison is more like it..” 

“I can get orange jumpsuits if you think that would make you feel better, however I don’t think orange is your color.”

Nesta scuffs, the insult nailing her. She glared daggers at him.

The man moved on, walking down the hall before turning around to face her. “I’m Cassian. Your warren, if we want to stay on the prison theme.” 

“And lucky you. You get the fourth floor all to yourself. Enjoy, Nes.” Then he walked off, not bothering to help Nesta.

“My name is Nesta!” She called out after him followed by mumbling a few curses under her breath. Nesta took her things and began to climb the stairs. Step after step Nesta made her way flight after flight when she finally got to the last step of stairs. A closed door stood on top.

Nesta sighed, her breath heavy and jagged from the climb.

“I never hated a place more than this.”

She grabbed her belongings, dragging the heavy suitcase up the final set of stairs. The wheels rolling off the wooden steps. Once at the top, Nesta opened the door. 

She was greeted with a decent sized room especially for an attic. This had to be the attic after all. There was

 twin bed in the corner near the window with an AC box unit installed.

The suitcase and bags were thrown to the ground as Nesta pulled out a piece of gum. Quickly she began to chew as her stomach hit the bed. Squeals of the bedsprings hit her with force. The spearmint flavor kept her mind at bay, letting the urges stay in the dark.

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows

[captainsophiestark]

The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[secondsineternity]

WHO I WRITE FOR:

Requests are currently open!

Currently Focused On: Katsuki Bakugo, Din Djarin, Steve Harrington, Anthony Lockwood, Eddie Munson, Matt Murdock (send in a request for any of these characters and it will be completed faster!)

Ace Attorney: Athena Cykes, Simon Blackquill, Nahyuta Sahdmahdi, Franziska von Karma

A Court of Thorns and Roses: Elain Archeron, Feyre Archeron, Nesta Archeron, Amren, Azriel, Cassian, Emerie, Gwyneth, Helion, Morrigan, Rhysand, Tamlin, Tarquin, Eris Vanserra, Lucian Vanserra

Camp Half-Blood: Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez

Castlevania: Alucard, Charlotte Aulin, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Jonathan Morris

Crescent City: Hunt Athalar, Lidia Cervos, Ruhn Danaan, Declan Emmett, Danika Fendyr, Tristan Flynn, Ithan Holstrom, Tharion Ketos, Bryce Quinlan

Death Note: L Lawliet, Mihael “Mello” Keehl

Demon Slayer: Hashibira Inosuke, Kyojuro Rengoku

Doctor Who: The Doctor (8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Fugitive), The Master (Gomez & Dhawan), Mel Bush, Jo Grant, Grace Holloway, Martha Jones, Yasmin Khan, Dan Lewis, Ace McShane, Donna Noble, Clara Oswald, Amy Pond, Bill Potts, Liz Shaw, Sarah Jane Smith, River Song, Rose Tyler, Rory Williams

Fate, The Winx Saga: Aisha, Beatrix, Flora, Terra Harvey, Musa, Bloom Peters, Riven, Sky, Stella

Haikyuu!!: Keiji Akaashi, Asahi Azumane, Kotaro Bokuto, Chikara Ennoshita, Lev Haiba, Hajime Iwaizume, Tobio Kageyama, Shinsuke Kita, Kendaro Kyotani, Yu Nishinoya, Kiyomi Sakusa, Tendo Satori, Daichi Sawamura, Kiyoko Shimizu, Koshi Sugawara, Rintaro Suna, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Yuji Terushima, Kei Tsukishima, Keishin Ukai, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Hitoka Yachi, Tadashi Yamaguchi

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo, Toge Inunaki, Kento Nanami, Maki Zen’in

Keeper of the Lost Cities: Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster, Keefe Sencen, Linh Song, Tam Song, Biana Vacker, Fitz Vacker

The Legend of Zelda: Link, Zelda

Lockwood & Co.: Lucy Carlyle, George Cubbins/George Karim, Anthony Lockwood

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ajak, Liz Allan, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter, Katy Chen, Carol Danvers, Layla El-Faouly, Jane Foster, Gamora, Agatha Harkness, Jessica Jones, Scott Lang, Darcy Lewis, Maya Lopez, Mantis, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Karli Morgenthau, Matt Murdock, Namor, Nebula, Hela Odinsdottir, Sylvie Odinsdottir, Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker (Any), Pepper Potts, Peter Quill, Monica Rambeau, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sersi, Marc Spector/Steven Grant, Gwen Stacy, Tony Stark, Ava Starr, Stephen Strange, Thena, Joaquin Torres, T’Challa Udaku, Shuri Udaku, Valkyrie, Hope Van Dyne, Vision, Jennifer Walters, Michelle “MJ” Jones Watson, Sam Wilson, Shang-Chi Xu, Xialing Xu

My Hero Academia: Shota Aizawa, Tamaki Amajiki, Mina Ashido, Tsuyu Asui, Katsuki Bakugo, Jin Bubagawara, Nejire Hado, Tenya Iida, Kyoka Jirou, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Atsuhiro Sako, Hanta Sero, Tomura Shigaraki, Hitoshi Shinso, Mezo Shoji, Keigo Takami, Shoto Todoroki, Toya Todoroki, Himiko Toga, Mirio Togata, Fumikage Tokoyami, Ochako Uraraka, Toshinori Yagi, Momo Yaoyorozu, Hizashi Yamada

Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner

Shatter Me: Kenji Kishimoto, Aaron Warner

Spy X Family: Agent Twilight (“Loid Forger”), Yor Briar

Star Wars: Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron, Din Djarin, Cara Dune, Armitage Hux, Bo-Katan Kryze, Fennec Shand

Stranger Things: Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Joyce Byers, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Donatello, Casey Jones, Leonardo, Michelangelo, April O’Neal, Raphael

Throne of Glass: Aedion Ashryver, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Gavriel Ashryver, Manon Blackbeak-Crochan, Lysandra Ennar, Nesryn Faliq, Dorian Havilliard, Elide Lochan, Fenrys Moonbeam, Lorcan Salvaterre, Yrene Towers, Chaol Westfall, Rowan Whitethorn

Twisted Wonderland: Leona Kingscholar, Jamil Viper

The Umbrella Academy: Number One / Luther Hargreeves, Number Two / Diego Hargreeves, Number Three / Allison Hargreeves, Number Four / Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five, Number Six / Ben Hargreeves, Number Seven / Viktor Hargreeves, Number Five / Sloane Hargreeves

Vampire Academy: Adrian Ivashkov, Dimitri Belikov, Lissa Dragomir, Rose Hathaway, Sydney Sage

Wednesday: Wednesday Addams, Tyler Galpin, Enid Sinclair, Xavier Thorpe, Larissa Weems

Wizarding World: Lorenzo Berkshire, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Ominis Gaunt, Hermione Granger, Queenie Goldstein, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, James Potter, Mattheo Riddle, Sebastian Sallow, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley

a character in italics is a favorite to write for. taking a break from strikethroughed fandoms. list is subject to change.

[mommyofkittens]

A Court of Fallen Heroes: Chapter 11 - END OF PART 1: Pit of Despair

The Vespertus

Author's P.o.V:

          The night wasn't as merciful as Cyan had imagined before the mission started, as she had hoped and as that dreadful feeling of impending doom was settling deep inside her marrow, the only thought she had in mind w9as that someone betrayed them. Someone who played his cards better than her little band of bandits and outwitted them, outfoxed five brains.

           Hypnotized by the moving shadows she imagined, Cyan stared into the pitch-black fog that rose between the scrawny trees. There was only empty silence in her eardrums, broken only by Niven's sharp gasps or Malou's heavy breathing passing by the side of her head. They peered at her from behind those lanky trees, dancing on Kallus' splattered blood, following Cyan's arrythmic heartbeats.

          Someone sold us out. Someone killed Kallus. No. He's not dead. He can't be. But his blood is everywhere. Maybe he fought back, he's really hurt out there in the forest. Of course he fought back, but Malou said there's no trace of his scent anywhere near.

          " We have to keep moving. " Malou gathered her strength, refreshed by the freedom, and watched the brunette, whose name she hadn't quite caught yet. She tried to muster some empathy, some compassion for the faith of the girl's father, for her grief, but these long, never-ending years, the losses she, herself had suffered, left her feelings freeze to death. When no answer came from the one she thought was the leader, she turned to the human who was barely holding Malou on her narrow shoulders.

         Is this the Falling Star  the Old Word spoke of? Malou refrained from showing her distrust and studied the human's gentle profile. Tree digits were imprinted deep in the roundness of her cheek, rosy and anfractuous, murdering that innocent, smooth facade. By their color variation, from pink on the edges and fierce magenta in the center and the way they were perfectly aligned and symmetrical and the vague smell of sulfur, she guessed a creature gifted it to her. A departing memory.

          " The guards will discover us and your plan will fail. " She could feel the heaviness of her eyes settling on Malou's relentless features. This girl's green eyes did not know an easy life, her questioning gaze electrified Malou, somehow ravishing the last remnants of her warrior instincts she burried deeply inside her subconscious. Cyan's eyes reminded her of a long lost partner, of a forgotten devotion she had once bravely held.

          Malou's mouth went into a straight line, building back her strong, garnet walls. Cyan's eyes softened rapidly, letting the fragile side of humanity come back. 

      " You're weak. " Malou felt the need to strike the girl with ferocity, wanting that second of bravery she held moments ago to come back. " This is not a world where pretty eyes and soft souls survive. I can smell your emotions a mile away. Imagine what it feels like when I'm so suffocatingly close to you, girl. Do something and get us moving! "

          Cyan's face fell, her insides twisted once more before she erased those shadows from the corners of her eyes and tried to put her brain to work. It must've been at least twenty minutes since Niven sunk herself to the ground, moving back and forth, trapped in a trance. Her knees were probably frozen, soaked with mud. Cyan grimaced as she heard the ghostly sound of a heart breaking and breaking again and again, washed by the rain that fell more gently, as if taking pity on their misfortune.

           The wind, however, grew wilder, entering the corners of their massive armor, making a home inside their bones. Cyan's jaw started to tremble uncontrollable as she struggled to move Malou inside the carriage, her iron shoes slipping on the mixture of mud and blood. Their only luck tonight was the full moon, which provided enough light for them to see the disaster around them. 

         " I'll lock the door. Don't make a sound. If we lose you too, it will all be for nothing. " Cyan whispered so softly that even Malou's sharp hearing couldn't hear all the words, but she agreed, already reading her intentions to protect her at all costs.

          The old woman gasped, irritated at the way her body had grown heavy and useless. The only things that had remained untouched were her most primitive assets: her sense of smell, her sight, her hearing, even her ingrained instinct to fight. Malou gathered the velvet cushion in her bony fists and repositioned herself on the carriage floor. She sniffed her old woman scent and almost threw up, disgusted by her pathetic condition. But she should be back in shape in less than a day. If she even made it to the next day.

         Mother of all we know, keep my body agile and my soul free. Mother of all we feel, may my blade be sharp and my focus steady. Mother of all we are, let the path be hard and my enemy fierce so I can win my place beside your righteousness.

          Malou's prayer rose to the sky like a chanted spell, soothing the aching pain of the wind. A bandage on a stinging wound.

          Suddenly, she felt wrong as she thought about throwing those hostile words at the girl. A mentor shouldn't be angry and hateful, harsh, yes, but not hateful. She was showing hate towards a woman who came to save their world, who was about to experience the breaking point of her initiation tonight. A fatal heartbreak. Malou knew that the Vespertus could come in all shapes and forms: faes, half-faes, witches, elves, dwarves, even humans. But the latter died more easily during the transformation. The rate of a successful Passing was lower than that of any other species, but the powers they inherited when it was over could destroy this world as easily as they could protect it. Humans fed their fire with ambition and love.

          Malou gathered her palms and prayed again, this time for the girl who was fighting for their lives outside.

           In the middle of the night, Cyan's desperation flooded the area. Her hands shook as if she'd been drinking all night and her steps were hesitant. She felt the guilt eating away at her stomach, her lungs, her voice. In the back of her mind, she had a clue as to who might be the one to drag her through such misery, but she vehemently refused to admit that he was to blame for her failure and that she was guilty through him. She was the one who had betrayed them. 

          " Niven. " She calls for the millionth time, trying to lift the girl's limp body from the ground. How could she be heavier than Malou? '' We have to go, we need to finish the mission, otherwise Kallus's sacrifice will be for nothing. ''

          " I don't care. Soon, I'll be dead too... " 

          " Please, don't say this. You are my hope, Nivy. " The stinging in Cyan's eyes diminished the moment she let those hungry tears eat her face, the string in  her throat grew tighter around her vocal cords. " We have to live! "

          Niven's hollow gaze took in the desperation in Cyan's features, her rich brows now tossed by the helmet, her well-structured nose reddened by the cold air, her parted lips now cracked and bleeding from Cyan's white teeth. Nivy's tearful gaze made Cyan glow in the moonlight like a true goddess in disguise, the planet perfectly aligned with her head. She saw a crown of stars dancing around the redhead's temple, the darkness only helping it to shine brighter. " It's already happening... The Mother of the Helpless. "

          Cyan began to cry harder, sobbing louder as she watched her soul sister slowly lose her mind. She pulled harder, digging her gloves into Niven's shoulder blades, finally lifting her large body.

          Something else made them stop. It seemed like the sound was coming from everywhere, a rhythmic gallop rushing through the night, a terrifying sound when you're left all alone in the woods. Cyan felt an ache deep inside her heart, a warning from her vital organ that it was reaching its endurance limits. She straightened her back and muttered a curse in her native tongue. Niven's bloodshot eyes widened, her posture shifted a fraction, becoming slightly more aggressive, but the fire she held a few hours ago was clearly extinguished, only embers remaining beneath her skin.

          " I'll take care of it. " Niven stumbles on her wobbly legs and raises her palms above her head with her last ounce of strength, bringing a weak, flickering golden halo to life around her wrists. 

          Cyan lifted the spear from the ground, trying her best to concentrate on the sound and where it came from. She watched as it's sharp end glowed with yellow and white light coming from Nivy's moving fingers, reflecting her blossoming powers. The mixture of black wood and metal slid under Cyan's sweaty palms, shaking like a candlelight in the wind. Remnants of someone's blood got caught under her nails, raising the bile in her throat.

          The earth shakes beneath their feet, cracking and releasing thick tree roots, monstrous and twisted by time. Moles flee from under the ground, frightened by the sudden earthquake, and hide in the depths of the eerie forest. Wolves howl in the distance and birds of the night fill the sky, trying to escape. The redhead stares in awe as pure magic erupts from Niven's body, yellow as a sunny day, illuminating half the forest. A strong smell of freshly dug earth fills her nostrils, and she glances around, noticing the branches squeak as they are finally allowed to move, guided by the golden mist.

          By the second the sounds grew louder and closer, a shield had already formed around them.

          " Wait! Wait!..." Cyan cries, throwing down the spear. A familiar horse whine rises through the night, like a triumphant trumpet announcing victory. The girl almost kneels in relief, her nerves already stretched thin. " How is this possible? "

          The horse rose on her hind legs, as if to signal that she was no danger to them, and then, as she slowly approached them, another pair of small eyes came into view.

          Niven's hands remain suspended in the air as bewitched as her companion was, mouth slightly agape. " Did mom send you? "

          A small piece of content filled their hearts, knowing there was still a way out of this forest, a chance to find Kallus. Cyan rushes through the branches, not thinking clearly, and runs to hug her friends. A few thorns kiss the outside of her face, but she doesn't seem to feel anything as she presses her forehead against the horse's to show her appreciation. " Misty... What happened to the farm? " She asks, raising her palm to touch the cat's wet hair. " We have to go back!  "

𓆩✴𓆪

         As surprising as it sounded, the Spymaster managed to lose his only suspect faster than he expected. Or rather, faster than his hundreds of years of experience would have allowed. He let the girl go for a single reason: there were more important matters to attend to that required his attention more urgently than a deceptive hunch. Even if his instincts never lied to him, Eris and everything else could wait a little longer.

          By no means did he get rusty or too old. No. He just started the mission on the wrong foot. Everything tasted bitter on the tip of his tongue from the beginning, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had to see it through. Even if they were a family, Rhysand wouldn't allow him to start picking and choosing which missions he wanted to go on. 

          Was this a bad time to consider that his younger brother was pulling rank on him? 

          After that upside down turning stomach of a dinner, the Shadowsinger was led into the chamber that was to be his home. He quickly had his companions search the large, dark room, lit only by a few candles. When no spells or dangers were found, he disappeared, hiding in the dungeons beneath the castle.  

          Azriel felt the dense layer of magic that prevented anyone from teleporting into the prison cells, but his way of traveling through shadows was no simple magic, and there weren't many wards that could prevent him from taking a look inside. After all, everything casted a shadow, from the most mundane objects to the darkest corners of the earth. Well, at least everything that was touched by a soul or had a soul. Wrapped in the compact layer of blackness, he followed the muffled sounds.

          No one was getting killed on his watch.

          With a deft finger, he covered the lower half of his face with his mask and drew two of his daggers from the shadows, ready to strike from the pitch-black corner. Two torches came into view and the other inmates began to shout and bang on the iron bars. The damp atmosphere grew louder with groans and the air became even harder to breathe, full of a fetid and cadaverous odor.  

          A harsh line appeared between Azriel's brows as he finally saw two guards dragging down the chopped stairs the servants from earlier, both half-unconscious. A sense of justice boiled inside his nerves, frigid as a bleak winter. His joints strained under the pressure of his arched stance, like a bow ready to shoot. The Shadowsinger waited no longer, already full of their poor ways of treating women. The hulking men suspected nothing as one of Azriel's daggers sliced through the night, fast and steady, and plunged into one of their throats. Blood splattered everywhere from the small and fatal wound, aided by the gurgling sound of him choking on his own fluids. In the blink of an eye, he was writhing like a fish on dry land, franticly trying to cover his sliced neck. 

          One of the women began to scream as red droplets landed on her uncovered face, waking her from her sleep. Two hands appeared from behind the iron bars, dirty and rat-nicked all over their forearms, and dragged the twitching body close to the cells. Everyone was horrified as another pair of hands emerged from another dark cell and began to rip the guard's skin off in a violent attempt to avenge the years they had been imprisoned down there and the horrors they had endured. Skinned alive, the man endured several minutes of torture, praying loudly to die faster.

          " Show yourself! " The other managed to scream, his black eyes desperately searching the empty halls. He tried to remove what was left of his friend from the cells, but the starving people they threw here were hungry for justice. The torch lay forgotten on the ground, sizzling in the pool of blood that was already forming.

          A riot broke out in the dungeons beneath the castle. Metal cups banged against the walls, people screamed and screamed as they pinned their limbs to the corridor separating the cells. Someone threw fecal matters on the guards armor, disturbing his stance.

          " La la, la la la, Death has come to collect the prize. La la, la la la, and he has you on his file. " A prisoner sings, laughing like a crow. The guard bangs his sword on the iron bars, trying to keep the situation under control, but he has no idea that Azriel could also thrive in chaos.

          The Shadowsinger reveals himself in the dim light, radiating power, terror, and a thirst to kill. His illyrian leathers were his second skin, molding into his muscles, instilling fear in his opponent. The only thing the poor man could see were the Spymaster's eyes, empty and sinister, like a dreadfull story told around a campfire.

          " I knew you were a bad omen. " The man squeaks, shivering.

         There was no point in wasting more time talking and as the man moves to deliver a blow, Azriel spins through the large opening created by the man's raised arms and stabs him between the ribs with lethal grace. The guard howls in agony, the prisoners cheering the pain, but the Shadowsinger has had enough of the show. To end the man's misery swifter, he silently moves behind him and breaks his neck with his bare hands.

          " Please don't hurt us. " The white-haired one speaks, holding the other woman tightly in her arms. " We are innocent, someone set us up... Please... "

          " I know. " Azriel speaks calmly and takes off his masks to ease the tension. All he needed now was to frighten them more than they already were, and he didn't want that. " I'm here to free you. I'll fly you to your homes, but you must leave the city tonight. Are you able to do that? "

          " There is a ship leaving for the continent tonight, but we are too many and I don't know if I can afford the price. " The older woman speaks, caressing the sleeping face of the other.

          There were no words left to say as Azriel places a bag of golden coins inside her fist, then winnows them both outside the castle, as far as possible from any danger. 

          " May the Daughter spare you... " Is all that he hears before he vanishes back to finish his bussiness.

          The Fallen Star to spare him? How many people knew about the existence of this woman? How many people were after her? Funny, The Shadowsinger snorted, I should be the one to show her mercy, not the other way around.

          Well, the man knew that after his little circus trick, he only had a day or two before anyone noticed the real culprit who managed to start a riot in those prison cells. Now he could finally focus on his real mission. Worryingly, the only thing he knew about the girl was the color of her eyes, and frankly, not even that was entirely true. 

          Were they slightly more blue, gray, or more green than usual because of the distance?

           Azriel shakes his head, feeling violated by the unexpeted toughts. Who cares what the girl's eyes looked like? Who cares why she was sent to their lands? Who cares about the girl's destiny as long as she tramples on the lives of others for her own sake? He was beginning to believe that she wasn't as blessed and holy as the pictures in the book made her out to be, how the stories he heard made her sound like a peace bringer. She was a ruthless human and all Azriel wanted was to finish the damn job and hand it over to Rhysand to take care of.

          As Azriel was striding through those empty halls, whispers caught his attention. He puffs, almost amused at how this night was going to unfold for him and anyone involved. He rubs his palms over his tired face, already tasting the last remnants of patience left in him. When was the last time he fucking slept for more than two hours without being disturbed by an emergency? 

          Swallowing his dissatisfaction, he gathers his strength and becomes a shadow. By the Mother, this was going to be a long and tiring mission for him. Azriel hoped to at least get a good night's sleep by the time he returned to the Night Court.

          As he reached the next corridor, the illyrian noticed a slender boy haggling with one of the onyx guards the king always carried for protection. From the look of the wing, luxurious and well-lit with large candles, Azriel guessed that this was Draegan's side of the castle, the one he shared with his accolites and whores. The guard nods and knocks three times on the carved door before slipping his covered head into the chamber.

          The human grows impatient, his raven hair tied in a low ponytail beginning to unravel from his frustrating lack of steadiness. He raises his hands and tries to tighten it a bit. Azriel squints, spoting the drops of blood at the bottom of his blouse and the large stains that cover his pants and shoes. His movements are nervous, his posture tense, as if he had just murdered someone and didn't want anyone to find out. He turns his head from side to side to make sure no one sees him, as if he was about to reveal a life-threatening secret. The Shadowsinger inhales, sniffing his emotions and chokes: panic, hesitation, anger, rage, thirst for vengeance, and guilt, guilt, so much guilt that Azriel nearly drowns from the smell alone.

          " What have you done, boy? " Azriel whispers, detecting the dubious amount of sulfur emanating from the human's body.

         Draegan steps out in the hallway, half naked, and grabs the boy by the collar of his blouse, throwing him against a wall. There's a quick exchange of information that Azriel doesn't hear very well, then he watches the boy stumble backwards, his green eyes wide in shock.

          " Take the Death Patrol, burn the town, burn the farm, burn the whole damn forest if you have to! " Draegan shouts, pushing his guard against the wall as well. " Don't let anyone live. I don't want hostages, I don't want witnesses, I don't want collateral damage. I don't care if you find them. I only want dead bodies! Do you understand?! The Dark One wants answers that I clearly don't have. How did they manage to walk right under my nose?! They want to crown her on my throne! "

           The guard nods almost hysterically as he takes in all of his king's wishes. The green-eyed boy bows his head deeply.

          " I did everything I could to buy some time. I even killed my father, for you, my fierce king! " The boy drops to his knees, kissing Draegan's feet. " She washed their minds, she stole their hearts and eaten their souls! If we get there fast enough, if we manage to end her life before anyone else, there will be a higher chance of turning her into a Tiamat - A Dark Verpertus, a star driven by chaos. "

          Tiamat? The Daughter... The Fallen Star. " Vespertus " Azriel mumbles, coming to the horrible realization that Hybern knew of the comet woman's existence. 

          " What the fuck... '' Draegan suddenly turns blue and places a ringed hand on his torso. Black vomit spews out of his mouth, scattering all over the red walls and blue carpets. " That bi-... Aaah! " The king screams in pain as he falls to the floor, convulsing like a rabid dog. " I can't breathe! Ugh... "

          " Sire! "

          Doors open on both sides of the corridor, and more faes gather around the king, trying to help him to his feet..

           " He's been poisoned! " A Fae shouts, sticking two fingers down Draegan's throat. " Call Nimue! Who was he with in his chamber?! "

         " She's gone, the blonde girl. " Another shouts after checking the bedroom. " You idiots, move faster! The king is dying! "

         " What was he poisoned with? " A white-haired man asks as he pours water on Draegan's twisted face. 

          One of the faes from the dinner table comes out with an empty glass of wine and inspects it. He rubbs his finger on the purple stains and smells them. " Tell that fucking witch to come faster, he's been poisoned with the Night Shade. "

𓆩✴𓆪

          Mother of all we feel, Mother of all we know, Mother of all we are, Mother, Mother...

          Malou's prayer seemed to surround them, to protect them, to purify them, but the Mother vowed never to interfere in human or fae affairs; the Mother bound herself to never be able to touch the material world. The Mother made her fair share of sacrifice when she allowed her only Daughter to be torn apart by the world the Mother's Father had created.

          The Goddess wasn't even able to persuade the Fates as they started to cut string after string that night. One blind, one deaf, one mute. More lives were taken in less than two hours than in a day of war. The blind one chooses the strings so that no one could say her judgment was unjust. The deaf one cuts so that she never hears the pleas. The mute one discards them so that she can never say where the Gardens are hidden.

          The Mother could only watch as Malou took her rigged breath inside the carriage, while Niven rode wildly back to what was left of the farm. The goddess only blew a gentle wind into the mare's hooves, making her faster, swifter, more agile and glued her eyes and prayers to her only child, now left alone in the viper's lair. The Fates could only guide Cyan to her destiny, but they could never warn her about those dangerous steps she was about to take. 

          Cyan hid her cat in her armor, needing the warmth and reassuring touch of her loyal companion, and entered the castle with a dagger in her hand. She left her helmet in those woods, as well as some of her innocence. Her face was dirty with mud and dust, droplets of dried blood were splattered across glher temples and nose. She berated herself for forcing her body through those branches, but the sting of those cuts kept her anchored in reality. The tree claw marks on her cheek turned blood red from the harsh wind they endured with the carriage in pieces to make it easier for the mare to carry all that road.

          Her scalp was itchy, the low bun she had made was disheveled, her eyes were teary and sore and she wanted someone to answer for the loss she had suffered tonight. Cyan kept doing it, losing her mind in that satisfying, grim fantasy: stabbing and stabbing and demanding one life in exchange for Kallus's, thirsty and twitching with anxiety. She could see the sharp blade make a precise incision right in that fae's Adam's apple, stealing his breath and voice forever.

          Brutally, Cyan shoved two fingers into her eyeholes, trying to stay as neuter as possible.

          To her surprise, the castle was... empty. Or at least asleep. Either way: it wasn't a good sign the fact that she could venture head straight into Hybern's heart. Cyan wondered if it wasn't a trap someone had set for her. She would be grateful. Maybe this joke of a life would end sooner than she expected and she could return to the other joke of a life in the other universe. She mustered a smile that she quickly wiped away in pain. Her lips were too chapped and dehydrated and any expression drew blood from her skin.

          " Where the hell am I going? " Cyan wondered, still walking between the corridors.

          Quick footsteps could be heard behind her, and she hid around the corner, ready to pounce on anyone who came her way. Her anger drove her mad and robbed her of her wise decision making. The cat dug her claws into her chest, a warning to be careful. Cyan blew out the candles on the walls and cloaked herself in the darkness, aware that there was someone in this castle who thrived in the shadows and never slept. As soon as the footsteps lined up with her position, she let out an angry moan and knocked one of the people down.

           " Eris?! " The blade nicked his perfect jaw, leaving a path of fresh blood to stain the collar of his green tunic, but she never withdrew the blade. " You betrayed me! "

          Eris Vanserra was as beautiful and graceful as ever, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled from the attack. Cyan nearly lost her grip on the dagger hill, too stunned. The girl opened her mouth to avoid inhaling his scent of leaves and embers, concentrating on the way his firm and narrow hips felt between her thighs. She realized too late that it was the wrong thing to do, shying away and losing her defiant posture.

          " Cyan... " His hands remained glued to the floor, fully aware of the woman's state of shock, and he pleaded with her gently. " I didn't say anything. I swear on my mother. ''

          The man looked a little bored by the situation, but treated Cyan like a porcelain doll as he gently stroked the side of her hip with his slender fingers, trying to bring her to a state of lucidity. He drew his thin brows high on his forehead, bombarding the poor girl with sincere and warm amber eyes.

           " Cyan, what happened to you? " A pale hand reaches for her shoulder and she wips her wild eyes at the woman behind her. " Oh... By the gods... He's telling the truth. "

" I could never do this to you. I promise... "

          Cyan felt a pang of guilt betray her confidence. She remembered from the books that the only person Eris loved most besides himself was his mother, and he had just taken a vow under her name. Her cruel eyes softened as she gazed at an angelic Aoife, barely covered by the horrible nightgown Draegan must have forced her to wear.

          " You managed to escape him... " Cyan muttered, observing a crimson pink blossom on her hollow cheeks. " Did he... "

          " Eris helped me. " Aoife praised Vanserra, staring at him as if he was a prince on a white horse. " Where is everyone else? "

          Aoife immediately regretted her question as she watched Cyan's entire complexion turn from red to white, as if she had seen a ghost.

          " Someone attacked and took Kallus while we were inside the prison. We don't know if he's still alive, but... The amount of blood -... It covered the whole damn place... " Cyan continues, strangling Eris with one shaky hand. She was on top of his large body, trying her best to keep him on the ground with the weight of her body. " Not even the storm was able to wash all that blood. Even the horses were killed. The blood dripped from everywhere - like a sacrifice. You were the only one who knew everything and I gave that information to you so freely! "

         A nerve pumped in her temple, making Cyan dizzy. She knew that Eris could topple her at any moment. He was a fae after all, he was stronger and faster, even smarter. But Cyan had a fierce fire burning in her veins, pumping and roaring. She would give her life to kill Eris if he was the traitor. But that ball of accumulated and trapped emotions made her chest swell, like a balloon ready to burst. 

          All of a sudden she regarded the blood covering her armour, moistening her hair, covering her face and palms like a plague. Kallus's blood was all over her body. Cyan bit her tongue until she felt iron drip down her throat. Tears streamed into her clouded irises as she saw Eris' pitiful face blurry. 

          Aoife covers her mouth with a thin hand and kneels beside their bodies, cupping Cyan's unrecognizable face in her cold palms, " It wasn't him. "

          Misty doesn't linger inside her master's armor and swings a sharp claw at Aoife, trying to protect Cyan from any harm that might come her way. The cat's still wet ears perk up and she hisses, warning Aoife to keep her hands to herself. Her eyes go wide in shock at the so-called ace up Cyan's sleeve. 

          A shudder breaks Cyan from her killing fantasy and she pulls the sharp end of the dagger from Eris' face, waiting. " It's true. " A rough voice finally comes from behind her, warming and cooling her at the same time. " Someone else ruined your plan. " He continues, moving closer to her compromising position.

          Bugs seem to crawl up Cyan's spine as she feels those hate-filled, glowing eyes clawing at her. She pushes her eyes with two fingers, trying to regain control of her toughts, and when Eris finally manages to escape between her legs, she collapses backwards, resting her weight on Azriel's knees. The cat recognizes him and hisses again, growling.

          Cyan lifts her head in time to see the corner of his full mouth move as if he recognized her cat, but his face suddenly changed to greet her with a death stare. " If your mouth runs as easily as your emotions drive you, then I can imagine why your plan went downhill. "

          " Don't be so harsh, Spymaster, not everyone is as perfect as you. " Eris helps Cyan to her shaky feet, trying to put some distance between the girl and the deadly assassin. A bold shadow curls toward them, but Aoife pulls Cyan further away, unsure of the fae's intentions and waves a hand in front of her, thinking that the tongue of darkness could dissipate as easily as smoke would.

          The redhead didn't have a comeback ready, still terrified by the way his form enveloped her in its own shadow, like a gigantic volcano ready to fry everything in its path. His bony, pointed wings rose behind him like two warning signs she was prepared to ignore. She was too exhausted, too traumatized, and too sad to be intimidated by anyone more than she already felt in this world.

          " We should leave, Cyan. " Aoife speaks, her eyes closely glued to Azriel's terrifying aura. She notices the sharp ends of several blades coming out of his pockets and swallows thickly. " I thought you were stripped of them ."

          " I was. " Azriel admits, scorching the green-eyed girl like a pig on a roaster. " Don't you want to find out who ratted you out? I'd be deadly curious. "

          Cyan slowly lifts her eyes and cursed herself for allowing such handsome and grim man to make her want to be small and unseen. She could swear he was jogging with the words in that sentence, but her mind was too foggy to play his game.

          " How do you know who betrayed us? " Cyan found her courage to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. God, that rage really ate her energy.

          Eris places himself strategically in front of the girls, his gold and green suit shinning boldly under the candlelight, " Don't let him fool you, the Shadowsinger always know everything. " Eris rises his chin to Azriel, disposing that charming facade he wore in the last days. 

          The illyrian can't help but chuckle in response to Vanserra's way of playing his cards and bows his head to the left, challenging the other male. He feels his shadows closing in on the redhead, trying to get inside her head. Out of the corner of his eye, Azriel watches the so-called Cyan, noticing her poor appearance. She seems to have been taken out of a book of horrors, the kind he used to read as a child, about witches, curses and deadly battles. From the looks of it, if he moved fast enough he could land a blow to her knees and have her winnowed by the time Eris even had the chance to look behind.

          " Much to your surprise, I don't. A boy came to Draegan's chamber and warned him right after he was poisoned. I don't know who he is. " Azriel gave in, stinging Aoife with an all knowing look. He held no remorse, no accusation against her, only a warning that he knew who did it. 

          " Night Shade. " Cyan lets a breath escape her dry lips, but does not return Aoife's stunned gaze. " But where is everyone else? "

          Azriel places a wide foot to the right, trying to get a better look at his most coveted prize, trying to memorize her features. Or whatever he could make out behind all the dirt and bruises that covered her oval face. " Indeed, it was Night Shade. They left towards the city. I managed to stop some of them, but they are too many and the onyx guards are harder to kill than the simple, fae ones. Who attacked you? "

          He had to admit that he was a little shocked to find himself in front of the comet woman, or The Fallen Star, as everyone preferred to call her, but he was also a little disappointed when he saw her size and the pitiful way she carried herself. How was a human like her going to save their world? Azriel just couldn't see it happen. Cyan was young, weak, and from the looks of it could barely take a few blows. She had no muscular build under that armor and he couldn't sense any type of magic, only sweat and rain. How could someone like her survive such a fall?

          Cyan's eyes were turbid, a mass of blue and green and gold - a chaotic ocean. She looked like she drank all night fae wine and never recovered. " That's none of your bussiness. When did they left? What did the boy look like? "

          " They must've really hit you in the head if you imagine I'll tell you so you can go around looking for him. " The Shadowsinger came closer, ready to snatch her and just leave Hybern behind, but Eris threw a hand in front of Cyan, sensing his intention.

          " She won't. " Vanserra swears, but Azriel could easily spit on any promise the Autumn Court made. " Now indulge the lady and answer! "

          " What do I get in return? "

          " I believe you're here for the same thing everyone is. " Cyan considered, watching Eris swallow his words. " So I'll come with you. "

         Aoife and Cyan stared at the Shadowsinger as he took his eyes off the pray he had finally caught and stabbed Eris with his piercing gaze instead, satisfied with the way everything had suddenly gone his way. " Tempting, but how do I know you're not going with the Autumn Heir? "

          " I'll let one of your shadows come close so it can bind me to you. "

          Soft green and violent amber crash together as Cyan finally finds the courage to set her eyes on Azriel's. Her mouth goes into a straight line letting her guard down, blown away by the power he held only in his gaze. She can see the wheels turning in his head, the barely visible tensed muscle in his fine jaw, the bright glow of victory in his irises. He seemed to have everything under control, calculating every outcome, solving every problem that might arise. Even if she managed to escape him, he would hunt her down on every continent, offended that she had broken her promise.

          Maybe this was her chance to go to Prythian and then back home. But there was no proof that they would help her, there was no proof that things weren't different in reality than in the books. What if they were evil and would do anything to save their world, including willingly letting her die? What if they tortured her to find out how she ended up here?

          In silence, a skilled tongue of smoke curls around Cyan's wrist. holding her in a leash. Goosebumps break out all over her forearm, sliding down to her fingers like a frozen ice cube. Their grip feels like millions of needles were pinching her skin, tight enough to leave a mark behind. She closes and opens her eyes a few times, convincing herself that the deep shadow is indeed alive and flattening around her. Before she can give Eris a sideways glance, Azriel is already blurting out all the information.

          " It was a raven haired boy, slender, not taller than the blonde girl, a pony tail, covered in blood, green eyes. "

          Cyan swallowed, taken aback. It was impossible. 

          " It can't be him. " Aoife spoke to the redhead, still clinging to her left arm. 

          Azriel didn't even notice the short chemise the blonde was wearing, as if she had been caught by the bandits in the middle of the night and barely managed to escape. He watched as Cyan took a deep breath, watched as her world crumbled over her head, as her shoulders slumped and realization took over her foggy mind.

          " We need to go to the farm. Right now. " Cyan announced calmly, feeling everything all at once. Her limbs began to shake violently when she realized that Niven and Malou were riding right into a trap.

          Azriel tsk-tsked in disapproval, ready to remember Cyan that she hadn't mentioned when she was going with him, but his breath was cut short as he watched the blonde draw a dagger from her thigh and gently place it in the redhead's gloved palm. A gift returned in the hope of bringing peace.  " Thank you. It protected me. " The blue stone upon it glowed brightly in the candlelight, blinding the Spymaster with cold rage. He remembered Amren mentioning something about its disappearance, he remembered how he felt that night, the nightmare he'd had, the smell, his agony. Azriel's hunting dagger lay stolen in the palms of the witch who had invaded their home.

        Voices scream in the distance, and Azriel's head whips around at the end of the hallway as he sees a handful of onyx guards running toward them.

          " Hurry! " Eris grabs the girls by their wrists and tries to drag them out of the castle. The Shadowsinger is faster and wraps a strong arm around Cyan's waist, blocking Eris's magic.

          " The witch is coming with me. " His voice thunderes, Truth Teller already dangerously close to Cyan's neck. Shadows rise around them, cocooning them protectively. One of them darts to Eris's feet, trying to drag him by his calves, but he scares it away with a burning orb send for those tongues of darkness.

           " Kill the traitors! Bring their bodies to king Draegan! " The one in the middle commands as one archer prepares to shoot them.

          Eris's fire ignites in his palms, throwing several fireballs at the guards, slowing them down. One of them screeches in pain as the hot armor melts atop his skin. Vanserra's orbs ricochet off Azriel's cobalt shield, bouncing off before hitting the marble on the ground.

          " Don't let him take her! " Aoife cries, throwing a vase in their direction, then another one.

          Digging her digits into the Spymaster's forearms, feeling those rippling muscles ready to suffocate her if need be, Cyan lifted her feet off the ground in an attempt to destabilize Azriel. In vain, his thighs were far stronger than a twenty-year-old girl, with half the weight of the huge man. The Illyrian raises another shield, blocking the Death Patrol a few feet away and hits his boot on the ground, a cobalt sound wave making the walls shake and the windows ring.

        �� A black sword appears in the captain's hands, smoke rising like fumes from the blade, cutting a long gash in Azriel's shield. Eris bends his arms and stirs the candle flames, burning the wooden archway. As it begins to crumble above their heads, shattering their helmets, the captain continues to deliver blow after blow in the Spymaster's flickering magic, creating a round opening in his defenses.

          " Let me go! " Cyan screams, managind to scrape her throat in Azriel's dagger. He doesn't seem to mind that danger was right behind them, less than a few meters away.

          " Witch! You stole from me, you broke into my house. Did you want to kill one of us? Did you want to have some fun by torturing us? I'll make you pay double the price... " He whispers in her ear, shaking her violently, sucking all the air out of her lungs. The scent of amber snickers from beneath her armor, mixed with sweat and mud and rain and blood. The Illyrian male goes wild, seeing black before his eyes as he holds his most coveted prize at his mercy.

          Don't break her neck. The bold shadow recommended, still gripping her left wrist.

          Too caught up in the act, Azriel seemed to forget that she wasn't really alone in that armor. Taking advantage of the proximity, the cat sees her chance for revenge and quickly claws at Azriel's right eye, blinding him for a second. The shadows, mesmerized by the fanged beast, released her and dropped Cyan brutally to the ground. A crack echoes in one of her knees, but she doesn't wait and limps to Eris's side.

          When Azriel is left alone to fight the Death Patrol, he throws Truth Teller after Cyan, assuming the guilt of the fatal blow. But time snaps, everyone seems to move more slowly, as if they had been immersed in tar, and only he and the witch were fully functional. He sees it happen, the black, sharp blade slicing through the air, creating a subtle hum of music as it heads for Cyan's head. 

          Aoife screams, but it's muffled, miles away. She waves her arms desperately, the strings holding her in place like a puppet preventing her from moving any further. Eris tries to launch himself in her direction, ready to be struck in Cyan's place, if only his legs didn't feel so heavy, so pinned to the ground. The redhead turns her face behind and watches as Death finally comes to claim her life. Relief is written all over her complexion, she can already taste the feeling of freedom, but she notices something strange happening in the atmosphere. The Shadowsinger is certain the dagger will land right between her serene eyes, but the Truth Teller's trajectory changes millimeters away from Cyan's forehead.

          And it lands. Right. Next. To. Her. Head.

          The dagger that never misses just missed its first target. 

          Azriel's whiskey eyes widen in awe. Cyan's green ones stare back, alive and unharmed. The contact is painful, and it brings the Shadowsinger a visceral agony as he lets her escape. Even if he has time to catch them, he lets them run to their freedom, his back turned to the danger the Death Patrol brought him.

          Eris winnows them right in the middle of Thaibar where chaos was just beginning to set. Flames as high as the mountains devoured houses and people, creating such blistering air that Cyan's armor instantly started to warm, boiling her inside of it. 

          " This is... devastating. " Eris says as he regains control of his mind and flips his palms. The fire consuming two twin buildings diminishes, absorbed into the fae's body. Cyan runs to the nearest well, only to find it blocked by a bundle of wood thrown into it.

          " They cut off the water supply a few hours ago. " A woman screams, running away with her child in her arms. " Run! Before these devils set you on fire! "

           Eris turns to another set of houses and extinguishes the flames. As sweat begins to dampen his smooth cheeks, a howl of pain erupts from behind them.

          Aoife watches in despair as her home is reduced to ashes and smoldering embers. Her screams echo through the night, joined by hundreds of others. Cyan manages to catch her before she falls to the ground and holds her tight as she screams and screams, mourning the years of hard work just to get her mother the medicine she needs.

          " Mom! Mom, get out! They'll burn you alive! " At the thought of her mother being in that cottage, Aoife chokes on her screams and tries to crawl away from Cyan. " Please don't leave me! "

          " Aoife, please, it's too late. " Cyan pleades, watching the foundation already crumbling to the ground. She closes her eyes tightly, Aoife's mother smiling at her from behind her eyelids. " Her suffering is finally over. "

          " No, no, it can't be!... May the god's fury bury you alive, Draegan! May you never see the light or the green fields! May you rot and writhe in the flames below! " Aoife's curse runs through the sky lit by those horrifying flames.

          Eris dodges an attack from a simple guard and burns him alive, melting his armor around his body. " We have to leave! Even if I estinguish these flames, the arrows keep bringing it back up again. " He announces loudly, his baritone voice barely audible in this hell. His handsome features were already covered in ash, which turned black at the contact with his sweating temples. 

          " Take Aoife to the ship! " Cyan wakes up, suffocating from the hot temperature. " Don't let her come back! Under no circumstances! "

          " What about you? " Vanserra kneels beside Cyan, watching her with his black irises. " I can't leave you here. "

          His burning hot hand cups her broken cheek, and Cyan suddenly feels the need to curl up in his arms and cry. " I'll go to the farm, see if there's anything left to save, then I'll come to the ship. " As Eris's worried gaze seems not to let her go, she continues. " I swear. I'll see you in Prythian. "

          A promise. A promise made in that pit of despair. Eris hesitated, searching a trace of doubt in her red eyes. His hand snakes around the back of her neck and pulls her closer, their foreheads touching. " I'll be waiting for you, remember that. I'll give you a week, then I'll come looking for you... " And in farewell, he places those thin, warm lips on her hair, blessing her, giving her a dose of his own ambition.

          Cyan's cheeks glowed like the flames around her, and she clenches her fist around his.

          " Run! I'll buy you time! " And so he did, grabbing Aoife by the waist and concentrating all his powers to raise a wall of flame that split Thaibar in half, wasting all the fire he had absorbed.

          Cyan began to sprint, her knees aching with each step, her amor heavy upon her body, ringing like cups smashed together. She dodged the corpses that littered the stony streets of Thaibar as best she could, avoiding stepping on and desecrating every unalived human that was scarced like trash. People in flames run around her, trying to keep the fire from burning them alive. Cyan hurriedly threw a blouse she found on a corpe at someone's head, cutting off the oxygen that was feeding the fire. She began to cry as she realized there wasn't much she could do and that it was too late for anyone to survive.

          Her tears stung the cuts and bruises from her face, making it harder to avoid the burning obstacles in her path. A few guards shout in the distance, unleashing a new set of burning arrows across Thaibar. She covers her mouth with her hands and watches as the night sky lits up with thousands of arrows. Her breath gets caught in her throat, her lungs burning from all the smoke and ash she inhaled, but she doesn't care. She prays and prays as she runs up the hill that Eris and Aoife would make it safely to the ship, that Niven and Malou would take Cynthia and make it aboard as well. She prayed that Kallus at least had a quick and painless death.

          A choked sound escapes her body. From pain, from exhaustion, from grief, she didn't know. Misty escapes from under her armor and follows her. The smell of Thaibar's flames traveled even here, in the open meadows.

          But as she got closer to the farm, she realized that the smell of burning bodies and houses was no longer coming from Thaibar. It was the farm. Her home.

          " No, no, no, no. No, please God! " She wheeps and starts running again towards the huge flames that seem to be eating the farm. " Why are you doing this to me?! No, no, no... "

          Cyan was no longer warm, even though the damned armor was almost red from the flames she passed through, she was freezing cold, her teeth trembling in her dry mouth. She couldn't remember how fast she went down the hill, if she fell, if she tripped. Cyan saw red in front of her, the tension restricting the blood flow to her brain. As fast as she could, she opened all the barns and released what was left of her animals. " Niven! " She cries desperately, running to the house where she used to sleep. " Malou! Niven! Please, please answer me! Cynthia! "

         Just as she was about to enter, a huge chunk of wood blocked her way. "Fuck! " The smoke grew thicker and denser, and she could barely see anything less than two meters from her feet.

          " In here... " A muffled voice called from the kitchen and Cyan darted in that direction. 

          " Stay outside, Misty! Run if I don't come out! " Cyan warns her cat, kicking it away with her foot. The cat meows in disapproval, but remains outside, frightened by the amount of smoke coming from the door. As Cyan rushes inside, she quickly covers her mouth and nose with her glove and waves her other hand in the air. Dark fumes bombard her watery eyes, making it almost impossible to see. " Dear God... Is anyone in here? Niven! " The temperature was so high that Cyan's breath burned her throat and lungs, coughing asthmatically.

          Everything was destroyed, the flames were everywhere, the tables were overturned, the chairs were thrown and scattered everywhere. It looked like someone was fighting in here. " Nivy? Cynthia?! "

          The darkest scenarios unfold in her mind, and to her dismay, they all seem true. Cyan screams as she steps on something mushy and feels fragile bones cracking under her foot. She stumbles, mortified, and falls face first, hitting her head hard enough to see stars. Bolts of pain thunder deep inside her skull as blood spurts from her broken nose. Trying to regain her sight, a wail of distress leaves her vocal cords as she's face to face with an eyeless Cynthia, gazing at Cyan with her toothless mouth wide open. Niven's mother, beaten to a pulp and brutally disfigured. The girl writhes in horror, dragging her body backwards, bumping into a pair of hanging legs. Trembling, Cyan turns around. A body is pending from the ceiling, armless and naked from the torso up.

          Drowning in her own tears, she clings to Kallus' feet, trying to lift him up to help him breathe.

          " He's... dead. " Cyan turns, her face baked by the hot temperature inside the kitchen and throws herself on the ground, next to Niven's body. " They were all dead when I got here. "

           " No... I shouldn't... " Cyan tears drop on Niven's dirty face, still as beautfiull as the first day she met her. " I'm so sorry. I sould have gotten here faster... "

          " Don't be. There was nothing you could do. It was our destiny, our only way to wash away our sin. In the time you've been here, we've breathed through you, we've lived through you, we've seen the sun finally rise for us through you.  "

          " Get up, Niven, let's leave while we still can... "

          " Let me finish! I'm not coming anywhere - they smashed my legs from the hips to the toes. I can't feel a damned thing. They're still here, searching... I think they corrupted Shum, the Dark One poisoned his toughts. He's not my brother anymore. Maybe you can save him... " Cyan refuses her request, kissing the palm of her sister that was now carresing her face. " You are the Vespertus, you'll carry on and avenge us. Listen to me!... This was the plan all along! "

           Pain crowns her scalp as she is suddenly yanked away from Niven by her hair. A fist collapses with her left jaw, leaving Cyan nearly unconscious.

         " You are here at last, mighty Daughter... " The reptilian voice laughs out of the smoke and another blow knocks the air out of her lungs as it lands right between her ribs. " I'm tired of waiting and so is the Dark One. Your existence is like mud under my nails. Strike her again! "

          Dizzy and unable to move, she takes the next blow without protesting. Cyan doesn't remember where it landed, fortunately her face was already numb. She watches through nearly closed lids as Draegan's twisted face emerges from the hungry flames, surrounded by six more onyx guards. He looked like he thrived in this chaos, in this misery, fed by their sorrow. Like shadows, his protectors emerge from behind him, swallowed by those hungry flames and drew a circle around them.

          " Take a good look at what you and your filthy bitch have done to me! " He shouts, pushing his face into Cyan's view.

          The girl begins to shake from her joints. She couldn't see much, her face was swollen and the atmosphere was thick with smoke. She prayed that she would pass out from all the pain cursing through her body, but it didn't happen and she had to endure all this torture.

          Cyan could barely make out the left side of Draegan's face staring back at her with crazy, black pupils. Ruined was a soft word to describe it. His expression seemed paralyzed, mauled. His lips were drawn back into his mouth, revealing a few remaining teeth and black gums. Not even his eye could be saved, eaten away by a white void riddled with black arteries.

          " You gave Aoife the Night Shade. You took half of my face. " He concluded, smaking her with his ringed fingers. " So I felt free to take something of yours. "

          Cyan pulled her head away from the guard and spat in Draegan's face with the last of her strength. The guard who was holding her hair punished her and with a quick movement cut off her long strands of red hair and threw them into the fire. Cyan remained face down on the ground, watching as the man behind her removed his ink-black helmet to reveal a painfully familiar face.

         " Shum... I tought- " 

          " I lied. " Shum rasped, his boyish features now morphed by Draegan's magic into a man's. " You stole my familly. You killed them. You are no blessing. "

          " Spit all you want, but tonight your life of eternal darkness begins. " Draegan laughs, letting the spit run down his face. " The Devourer of Worlds spoke in my ear of you, of your powers, of your destiny. Your whore of a mother thought she could shield you from him by hiding you in other constellations, but now you're licking my boots. We are many, many more. Allies from across the continent, ready to end humanity, Prythian, ready to let the Destroyer finally take us into his kingdom. ''

          " Why did you betray us, Shum? " Niven asks, her voice filled with remorse directed to her brother. " You murdered our father and stepped on our family name. "

          Cyan began to crawl beside Niven, her body a mass of painful movements and bloody wounds. Draegan made a sign to keep the guard from laying hands on her again, and left her to be with her sister, enjoying the show.

           " I was tired of waiting for a miracle. We prayed to the Mother for a thousand years and she never answered. She let us disappear one by one, she let our heritage be wasted. I was done the second Cynthia lost her mind because of the visions the Mother kept sending her, driving her crazy with time. She could barely get out of the house. We welcomed hundreds of strangers into our home before this one came. We have been robbed, beaten, captured, enslaved, and your Goddess has done nothing to help us. It took a single prayer to the Dark One to be heard, and then I realized who was truly on my side. "

          " You never understood did you? It was our punishment for letting those races be wiped from history, for losing a kingdom... "

           " I don't care anymore. I am reborn under his oath, I bear his mark. "

          Mercy, Cyan tought, but swallowed her tongue when a knife was thrown in front of her swollen eyes.

          " Enough! Kill her! " Draegan ordered, watching Cyan. " My guards have taken care of you other family members. Watch as your savior, your butcher queen, puts an end to your misery, Benefactor. " Draegan smiled, still shrouded in smoke and protected by flames. " Kill her, your soul sister! "

          " Do... It. " Niven whispers, her doe eyes pleading with Cyan. " Don't let him have my life. "

           " I can't... " She whisperes back, crawling to her knees to hug her inert body. " I can't... I love you... "

          " Please... If you love me, you will kill me! " Niven cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. " He claimed my parents for the Darkness when he took their lives. Spare me and let me go to the Gardens. You are my queen, you are the Daughter, the Blade. You are my saviour. Let my life end at your hands. "

          With trembling hands, Cyan finds the dagger tossed beside her and lifts it over Niven's heart, centimeters away. Still shaking her head in disapproval, she bites her salty lips, trying to gather her courage. With blurred vision, she scanns her surroundings once more, their father hanging from the ceiling, their mother lying on the floor and her sister at her mercy, waiting for her decision. They all planned this. They all watched her in the eyes knowing that they had to die at the end and never told her. 

          " Don't mourn me, Evening Star. Don't falter... You were worth it! " Niven smiles once more as Cyan screams in despair and plunges the dagger right through Niven's beating heart.

          The texture of the blade as it sliced through layer after layer, through skin and muscle and bone, made Cyan lose all control of her body. She could be dead by now, she couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. She killed the last person she loved unconditionally. She was a murderer, a kin slayer. 

          Draegan laughs loudly behind her, the guards lift her by the arms, but Cyan is pudding in their fingers, barely recording the film before her eyes. The Mother weeps above them as the Fates cut a golden strand - Niven's life.

          Everything else comes in waves. She sees the slender boy - Shum, dressed in the onyx uniform worn by Draegan's personal guards. The king whispers in his ears, limbs of darkness now at his control, moving like smoke through Shum's mind, controlling him like a puppet.

          " You betrayed us. " Cyan manages to say before she feels something breaking inside her chest, unraveling in her body from head to toe like a refreshing mist. She must be drowning in the ocean, her vision corrupted by green sparks and flowing waves of white steam. She smells the perfume of her old house, amber and musk. Her limbs begin to sting, as if small jolts of electricity were coursing through her veins, contracting her muscles. Cyan begins to light up, a fiery green light burst from her body.

          " Stop it before she fully Passes! " Someone screams, but there is only music in her ears, harps and violins soothing her toughts.

         Blind rage can be read in Shum's black orbs as he comes up behind her, possessed by whatever power Draegan wielded. He raises a hammer above Cyan's head, but the blow misses, striking and breaking her coxal bone.

          The light becomes unbearable to the eyes, and the force of the explosion throws everyone outside the burning house. The excruciating pain sends her body into an epileptic crisis, and she feels it - the heartbreak ripping through her heart muscles, her vital systems collapse one by one, exploding inside her now twisted body, eating away at her mind, her tissues, her emotions. Fatal for a human. And as she draws her last breath, she sees a man fighting to keep everyone away from her.

          Wings ruffle as Azriel tries to shield himself from the wave, and a mix of rage and cobalt fire rises right next to the burning farm where the Shadowsinger has been fighting to keep far away the black hounds trying to steal Cyan's body. The male is covered in blood and thirsty for more, fueled by a ghostly desire of revenge. His Illyrian blade clashes with an onyx guardian's flaming sword, while Truth Teller blocks the blow of another, aiming straight for his back. His shadows snake around their legs, throwing one to the ground and suffocating him. A dark sword rises to his side, slicing through his Illyrian leather. The sting only adds to the man's rage, which burns cruelly in his chest. The shakles he's been feeling since the witch's visit ring in his ears, vibrate through his body, and in a moment of blind madness, he cuts of the guardian's head from his body by forfecating his sword and Truth Teller, leaving it to roll on the ground.

          Shocked by the mania that has taken hold of him, Azriel steps back and watches as a fleeing Draegan rides back to his castle alongside the ponytail boy. He tries to follow, but an unseen thug holds him back, calling for attention. The barn.

          The Shadowsinger rushes inside, his face covered by his mask, and counts the victims. Checking the pulse of each corpse, he lets the flames carry a prayer to the heavens. A cry for help draws his attention to the one he seeks. An animal cry. Azriel's heart sinks as he sees Cyan's limp body covered by the fire, her furry friend desperately trying to bring her back to life.

          Lifting the cat in one hand and the woman's body on his shoulder, he flies them outside, away from the danger. There's not much he can do when the cat's curls itself on the girl's chest again, crying for him to help her, pleading him with her golden eyes to save her owner. 

          " I can try, but I don't know if it will work. " Azriel explains patiently, touching and examining the cats burned hair for any damage. " Wake up... " He speaks softly, inspecting the woman's severe wounds. Her nose was broken, her face was covered in bruises and various types of blood, her own and others. He felt sorry for her and gently removed the hairs from her temples. Azriel hated her, there was no doubt about it, but seeing her so unrecognizable from the beating she had taken, he couldn't help but feel guilty as well. " I hope your soul goes where it deserves to. "

          The woman was dead. It was easy to conclude. He dragged her into his lap, along with the crying cat and prepared to take them to the Night Court.

          " I'm sorry. " Azriel whispered, caressing her features. He unsheathed his sword as a pair of hooves landed right beside him, taking him by surprise. A mare, ridden by an old woman who looked at him as if she wanted to kill him. The horse was no better, huffing and puffing and baring her healthy teeth at him. " I assume you want the girl. "

          " This is a lost battle, illyrian " The woman nodds, her breathy voice filled with superiority. " Don't strike a wounded warrior. The girl is under my protection from now on. Let us gather our strength and then you can come and fight like a true man for your possesion. Spare us today and you won't regret meeting me next time. " 

          Azriel weighed his options, feeling the woman's cunning way of making him give up. His pointed blade was aimed at the old woman, but he couldn't move fast enough with the corpse on his lap. She was wise enough to speak of the honor of the illyrian race; to strike an already wounded warrior was a disgrace.

          But how can she protect this corpse? Who does she think she is? 

          Already tired from tonight's circus, Azriel takes the easy way out and agrees as he watches the girl's face again. The only victim to escape his dagger. " I'll let her go. " He decides, lifting her body and placing her and her cat on top of the stunning mare. " But I'll come back for her. Dead or alive, she made a promise to me. "

           " We'll be waiting. " The old woman said, leaving Azriel behind.

          You let her escape the second time tonight. The mass of darkness spoke in his ear, recalling his mistake from earlier. You got distracted... the amber...

          It's not in your nature...  The brave shadow curled, smelling the strands of hair Azriel clutched in his fist, collected from the girl's body.

           " Let's hope Amren is useful for something this time. "