#Azriel x original female character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluetimeombre · 7 months

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either part 2

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[thank you for the love on part one, I’m so happy Azriel is getting the love he deserves!!!! This is another long one, another 6k. But I’ve learnt a new love for writing about him and i have so many ideas. This is a continuation and final part, part one here. Enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

The third time Azriel almost lost you, he was pretty sure he lost a part of himself.

They'd all gone into battle, knowing that Hybern had the numbers to match and the advantage. But they'd all gone to fight in spite of that.

It had took some time for you to get the boys to agree to let you fight- you'd trained and grew up with all three of them but this was fighting on another scale. Although, if they were going, there really wasn't much they could say to get you to stay.

You were clad in Illyrian leathers just like them, armed with weapons and power.

The first battle was over quicker than you'd anticipated. Hybern soldiers surrendered, Tarquin drowned them on land. You'd suffered little, only falling on bed exhausted by the end of the day. Sadly, you were sharing a tent with Cassian and Azriel. It was like you were young again, all sleeping in the same room. It was a habit you'd done when you were young- all looking out and protecting each other.

The only difference was that Cassian snored as he got older.

But the next battle was worse.

It was bigger than last. Hybern's forces had doubled, seemingly at of nowhere, cutting their forces apart.

It was chaos, everywhere. Every corner there was fighting and bleeding and dying. There was pain all around you. Pain you felt like it was your own.

You used all your power, as much as you could to kill and protect. From the corner of your eyes you could see Azriel fight. Your Azriel, weaving in and out of people. Your mate. He was alive. And that was all you cared about.

But you didn't realise how much you'd been pushing herself and draining your power. Every time you stopped, you swayed on your feet, stumbling.

One of Hyberns men came for you as you were crouched and you barley blocked with your sword, rolling onto your back and slashing his arm off.

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

It had been deep burning and you yelled, yanking it out. Even with the wound, you kept fighting and fighting your way through until you saw a blaze of red and a familiar cry.

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

It was easy to push past exhaustion and winnow to his side, killing the man who'd been near him and any others that had been close enough. You fall to your knees next to him. 'Cassian, you prick.'

'You kiss your mate with that mouth,' he gasped. He was the only one who knew about Az and the bond. The only one you'd allow to make jokes.

You look down to his wound and gaged. Mother above, his guts were hanging out. 'No, no, no, come on, big guy, you have to stand.'

He groaned. 'Yea, don't think I can do that, sweetheart,' his eyes, lulled back.

You slap him in the face. Perhaps you wouldn't have felt guilt if it weren't for the way his eyes widened. 'You know I hate being called that.'

He laughed as his stomach and all its contents heaved out. Ignoring the pain in you, you hold his stomach, keeping him together. 'I promised Nesta i'd look after her,' he said. 'Please look after her.'

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

Finally, Azriel came to your side and picked Cassian up like it was nothing, flying him to the tents. If only you still had your wings, you could have done it, saved him quicker.

Then, you were thrown back into the battle. Covered in his blood and yours, you fought through them all, slashing and killing like it was nothing. Like you had no reason to bat an eyelash at anything happening.

Eventually, it ended, but you couldn't even concentrate on who won or how much you'd lost. Your head ached, your leg was tied up in a bloody bandage ripped from your clothes. But none of that mattered.

Cassian was in bed, healing slowly. But he would live, everyone could tell. Especially with the way he picked fights. He argued with Rhys about throwing himself into danger, him and Nesta appeared to be having words with their eyes. Even Mor and Feyre argued. You were the only one silent with Azriel in the back. Too exhausted to even open your mouth.

That night, you tied up your wounds and fell asleep without changing.

It only got worse.

Elain- Feyre's sister and the most precious- was stolen from Hybern. You had only agreed to go and save her with a few selected others because your mate was in that few selective others.

It hadn't escaped your notice how he looked at her, was watchful over her like he once was with you. You saw the tick in his jaw at the news she was gone. You knew that this was the reason you hadn't told him. Knowing that he deserved someone like her, better than you. Kind and hopeful. You weren't. So the only thing you could do was watch your mate find love in someone else.

And you'd do it grudgingly but happy for him.

Azriel had took of with her. You and your high lady fought, fought through ash arrows and everything.

'You should get out of her, y/n,' said Feyre.

You groaned as an arrow skimmed your shoulder. Another had already got your hip. 'If you try to order me out of here, i'll be really pissed off at you.'

'I don't care if it gets you out!' she snapped, arguing like a real sister would.

'Yea, well- I was never one to listen to Rhys either.'

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

You and Feyre ran, ran even as Tamlin defended you, ran until-

An arrow hit you in the back, straight to one of your old wing scars.

You tumbled, rolling on the ground as it broke and imbedded in your back. You screamed, in spite of yourself.

'You have to fly,' someone was telling you. Or saying it in general, frankly you had no idea what was going on. 'You have to take her.'

You rolled onto your stomach, groaning and trying to get yourself up. There was blood running down your arm, how did that get there?

'Y'n.'

You groaned, 'Azriel. I can't fly.'

'I know, I know- i've got you.' He picked you up, arm under your legs and around your shoulders.

'Elian, Azriel-'

'Feyre has her,' he told you. He sounded angry. Or afraid. Somehow his emotions were very easy to mix up.

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

'I don't give a fuck about Elian right now, y'n.'

Just like that, he took off with you in his arms and your blood raining down on the camp of Hybern. You could barley hear anything over the wind... but you could feel it.

Something had tugged painfully at the bond, throwing you into a scream. Something had happened to Azriel. You twisted in his arms, finding gashing claw marks in his back from one of the hounds that had chased them down. His face was bleached white in pain, his hold on you tight.

Glancing around, you could just see Feyre in a blur of people.

'Azriel-' you gasped. He was in pain, so much pain.

He didn't say anything, just squeezed you tighter and looking ahead, barking orders as Feyre flew for the first time in need, in desperation. You remembered what that was like, trusting your life in them. But Azriel's wings, they were bleeding out. You remembered the pain. You'd go through it every day to spare him a minute of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You and Azriel landed back in the camp in a blur of pain.

Even with him leaving a trail of blood, he managed to set you down like you were porcelain. You didn't cry out. You didn't yell for help. You threw his arm over your shoulder and supported him.

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

Azriel moved from you, checking on Elian. You only managed to watch them as she kissed his cheek.

The pain came to you then. Your head, shoulder, back. You turned from the crowd of family. Elain moved to hug her sister, Rhys stayed at Feyre's side.

Thesan, someone you barley knew as more than a healer, came to you first but you pushed him away, pushed him to Azriel. 'His wings. Heal him, or i'll rip you to pieces.'

He didn't have to be told twice.

You stumbled your way to camp, to your little tent. You didn't share it with Cassian anymore as he was still healing and Azriel would be a while- needing healing of your own.

You collapsed on the bed, promising to look after yourself- just after your nap.

You were so fast asleep you didn’t even hear Azriel come in and sigh at the sight of you…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was fighting when it happened. Specifically, when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No, he wasn't completely healed. But he had to fight. He wouldn't push himself, he knew that would be stupid. But he wouldn't watch as everyone fought. As you fought. He'd hardly seen you. He knew your back would be in pain. He knew you'd be in pain and you were still fighting, so far from him and out of reach.

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

And the first thing he felt over the bond wasn't happiness or love. It was pain. It was death.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

In spite of the pain in his wings, how he'd been told not to fly, he did. He jumped into the skies, soaring over armies and dead to find you. He followed that pain, he followed the bond until he found you.

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

He fell next to you, his power eradicating anywhere near you. They dissovled, the ground cracked under him and his syphons shone in raw power.

'y/n?' he held your body, shaking you. Blood, so much. A sword had torn through your gut. 'Don't do this to me.'

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You cough, a thin stream of blood rolling from your lips. 'Azriel?'

'You're mine,' it was the first thing he could bring himself to say. 'You're my mate. Y/n. You have to hold on, ok? I'm gonna-gonna get you to safety.'

Something like a laugh escaped you, your body wracking with it. 'Of course, finally snaps for you as i'm dying.'

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

She knows, his shadows sung. She's known.

Azriel called out to Rhys in every way he could. 'We're gonna be fine. We're gonna be mates, y/n. You have to live, you understand?'

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

'What's happened?' Rhysand landed next to him, blanking when he saw you in Azriel's arms, bleeding to death. How many times did this have to happen? How many times would you throw yourself into danger?

'She's my mate,' Azriel repeated. He tested it out loud, speaking it to the mother. How cruel was she? to give him this then try to take her away. Well, the mother wouldn't get that chance. Azriel would fight her if she tried to lay a hand on your life.

'What?' said Rhys.

'My mate,' he all but growled as Rhys got closer.

He put a hand on the back of Azriels neck, a hand on your head. 'We have to save her, Az.' he knew all about mating of course, knew that Azriel wanted nobody around her. But this was too save her. 'She's my sister too, the last sister I have. I care about her to.'

Azriel wanted to throw a thousand insults his way but refrained. If not because he was high lord, but also because you were dying.

They got you to safety, Azriel carrying you through to a tent.

'Y/n?!' Cassian rushed over, seeing you in his brothers arms, bleeding out and unresponsive.

Azriel pushed past him, setting you down on the bed. 'Get everyone, every healer now.' He had no idea who he was trying to demand, but he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see you in.

You were still in your bed. Behind him, Feyre rushed to her mate, wrapping her arms around his torso as your brother stared at you in muted horror.

Azriel was leaning over you, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s my mate.'

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

Azriel felt the world stop around him. Not did you know about the bond and hadn’t told him, you’d told someone else? Cassian? His hand stilled in brushing your hair back, his shadows coaxing you instead.

Rhysand spoke what Azriel wanted to scream. 'You knew?'

'She-She told me,'

Azriel had always had an iron fist control on his emotions, as relied on to be spy master, he had to. But his patience was hanging on by a thread. You were still bleeding out and nobody had come and Cassian knew. Cassian knew about his mate before he did.

His shadows caressed you and, leaving you in the coolness of their touch, he leapt up, marching around the bed toward him.

Rhys was quicker, a hand on Azriels chest to stop him. 'Calm, brother.'

'Calm?' He seethed. 'When-how long have you known?' He shouted.

Cassian breathed out, pushing his hair back . His wings were tucked in behind him. 'She told me, before she went under the mountain.'

Even Rhysand let him go, blowing out air and throwing his arms over his head as Feyre gasped.

Azriel stumbled, a hand to his chest. His shadows were divided between him and caring for you. 'Fifty years,' he gasped.

You’d known for fifty years- possibly longer and hadn’t said a word.

He was panicking, his breath escaping him. His shadows settled uneasy around him. And the only person who was capable of calming him was laying unconscious.

Thesan burst in, knowing the injured already and working on you quickly.

Azriel almost launched at him, just for touching you. The reasonable part of him knew he needed to touch to heal, but the part that was your mate wanted him dead.

Cassian held him back, physically.

Azriel glowered at him. 'I wouldn’t touch me if i were you, brother,' he practically spat the words.

Rhysand left Feyre with a kiss on her cheek, coming to Azriel who was looking over you on the other side. 'Az, you need to rest-you’re hurt, too, remember?'

He shook his head, staring down at you. Mother above you were pale, so pale. 'I-I can’t feel anything Rhys, I can’t feel her through the bond.'

'My sister is a fighter, she’ll make it through.'

Azriel scoffed. His shadows were caressing up and down your arm. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared about her like a brother.'

Rhysand inhaled sharply. This was just fear, he told himself. 'Azriel.'

'No,' he said, his finger brushing back your hair. 'You only care about her when she’s dying and all y/n does is worship you- ever since you were children.'

Cassian tried to advance, 'Azriel, you wouldn’t be saying any of this if y/n wasn’t hurt.'

He laughed, bitterly. 'No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to. I’d bite my tongue. But your sister is dying and the last time you cared was the last time she almost died- it killed her to lose her wings and you were never there! And you teach your mate to fly right in front of her!'

Rhys growled. ‘Don’t bring my mate into this!'

‘You’ve brought mine into this!' He yelled. 'Everything she does is for you. Working for you. My mate followed you down to the mountain even when you didn’t care.'

'Of course I cared.'

'Then why did she feel so alone down there!'

‘How would you know, Azriel? You weren’t there!'

'Because I know her, bond or not. And you’ve been otherwise occupied.'

Cassian moved between the two, holding them apart. 'None of this matters to y/n does it.'

Azriel blankes them all, settling next to you. He vaguely heard Cassian send Rhysand and Feyre away. He felt him longer before he felt him leave.

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You felt pain first. The steady thumping of it through your body. It started in your leg, numbing it. Then, her back ached- a familiar pain you'd felt before. It sent panic through you before you realised they can't take your wings twice.

Then, it was in your gut, stinging. Just the thought of moving was hurting- aching.

There was a coldness around you, draped over like shadows. Shadows...

That's when you felt the tug that you'd neglected to feel for more than half a century.

The bond. There was finally something tied to the other end.

The shadows around you must've known you were awake as they grew frantic around you.

You opened your eyes, slowly, afraid to what you may see. Afraid to the eyes you'll have to meet.

Azriel was sat on a chair next to you, bare chested with only bandages around him. Immediately, you were at a disadvantage. He was looking at you, dark eyes pouring into yours as his hands curled around shadows.

'What happened?' you asked.

'You were run through,' he said, voice wavering.

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

Your eyes flickered away, staring at your tent. 'Oh.'

'That's it?' he whispered. There was some heart-break tainting his voice. 'You're not gonna say something?'

You pulled the blanket over you, daring to move to sit up. He shifted, but his shadows helped you. 'What do you want me to say, Az?'

'Why did you tell Cassian and not me?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me, for fifty years?'

'It's-it's not a big deal.'

'Not a big deal?' he all but seethed. 'I'd say finding your mate is a pretty big thing, y/n. It's the person to spend the rest of your life with.'

'Can we not, do this now?' you winced, as the words left your mouth.

'You're right, maybe we should wait another fifty years to bring it up when you're dying.' you've never heard him be so cruel, you'd never even argued with him before this.

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

He scoffed. 'You had an infected wound in your leg that you didn't tell anyone about. An ash arrow was imbedded in your back. Imbedded! You didn't see anyone about it and then- you run into battle and get yourself stabbed.'

'I didn't get myself stabbed!' you argued, your temper rising above all other judgment. 'I didn't rush out in there, wanting to die!'

'I held you as you bled out!' he yelled, standing up from his seat. You were swinging your legs over the bed, ignoring every twinge in your body. 'Do you have any idea what that's like? Not even to hold you as you die in my arms the first time but the second. And to know this time, I was holding my mate?'

You bit down on your lip. He had to use the word with such care and love even when angry. You could feel it. For once, guessing his emotions wasn't needed as you felt it all. The taunt anger in him, the pull of anxiety and above all else, the weight of his love.

Azriel walked around you. 'Please, you have to tell me. Why didn't you say something to me? Why wouldn't you tell me you're my mate? Am I that repulsive to you?'

'What?'

He gulped.

You shook your head as he knelt in front of you, shadows pooled around the two of you, as if they were trying to hold the two of you together. You took his hands, holding them and let something like love flow down the bond. 'You are the most beautiful thing in this world. Something better than me. I wouldn't burden you with that.'

He rose his gaze to you. 'Burden me?'

'Do you think i've enjoyed lying to you?' you ask, finally finding your words. 'Do you think I've liked being your mate and never being with you? That I left you for fifty years and thought of you every moment of every day, all day long. That when I come back I wonder if you or Mor had grown closer? Or if Elian would finally tell you how much she loves you? It's been eating me alive. But it's a small price to pay.'

Azriel grasped at his words, chocking on them. 'Elian is nothing to me, nothing.'

You pushed yourself up, using his shoulder to steady yourself before you move around him. 'Why? Have you only just decided that because I’m your mate? That’s not how it should go, Azriel.'

He was following you around your tent as you slipped on armour and leathers over your night dress. ‘I want you, only you.'

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

'If we’d talked about this maybe fifty years ago you’d know that!'

You shook your head. Perhaps a part of you didn't want to believe him and all those wasted years at your fault, but you didn't want to believe his words either. Because what did that mean? That he loved you and wanted you. But that seemed just as impossible to you. How could he want someone so wrecked who'd done nothing but run away from her feelings and does nothing to make anyone happy?

'I don't want you to feel like that,' said Azriel, approaching her. She thought she'd spoken aloud before she realised he could feel everything that was hers. She'd only ever had to shield her thoughts from her brother- and he rarely sort her thoughts. 'Please, please-' he took your shoulders, turning you around and gently resting his head on yours.

You could feel his warm breath over your lips. You almost lost all resolve, with him that close. You'd never been so close to him, close enough to touch. To kiss. To know finally what it mean to have that deep connection that everyone was meant for.

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

'Whatever you're thinking about yourself, i've thought about me a thousand times. And ever since we were kids you've always stopped me from thinking that. You've always told me what I was worth,' he whispered. His hands were wondering down your arms, sending shivers down you. He could've been doing it on purpose, distracting you. 'Why won't you accept it for yourself?'

You gulped down every uneasy thought. 'Because you're good, Az and i'm-'

'You're everything.'

'I'm not,' you look up at him, his own face blurry from your tears unwilling to fall. 'I'm not a fighter, i'm afraid of pain. And I could never be a leader, because i'm scared of losing people. I'm terrified about it half the time. Why do you think I followed Rhys down to that stupid party that I knew I wouldn't come back from? Because he'd do the same for me? We both know he wouldn't. But what would losing him mean for you? or Cass, or Mor? I was a coward and I wanted to hide from all the pain his leaving would have caused.'

Azriel shook his head, words sinking in. You were comparing yourself, to warriors like him and Cass, to the high lord- your own brother. 'It was unbearable without you. Maybe if it was just Rhysand i'd have still been able to be spymaster, because that's what he needed. But when I realised you'd gone to, it ruined me,' he admitted. 'I didn't care what you would've wanted, because you weren't here to tell me.'

You rub at your forehead, the tension creating a pain in your already aching body.

'And to anyone who made you feel inferior or worthless, i'll kill them,' he said. It was a shine of the real Azriel. The one who made a promise and never broke it.

You smirk. 'Can't kill the high lord.'

'No,' huffed Azriel, like it was a mild inconvenience. 'But I sure can punch him in the face.'

You laughed at that and Azriel smiled. He'd cracked you.

But your amusement dropped quickly, he felt it like a penny dropping. He let go of you as you turned away, wiping at your eyes. He didn't want to see you cry, didn't want to be the one to make you upset. He only wanted to make you feel loved.

'This isn't how I wanted this to go.'

Azriel suddenly felt conscious of himself. Maybe this wasn't so much about what you felt, maybe it was more about what you felt toward him. 'You really hate the mating bond that much?'

You look over to him. 'Being your mate is my greatest honour. But I don't want you to love me just because you have to.'

'It's not that-'

'And I know you're gonna keep saying that.'

'Until you believe me,' he assured her. 'Even if I have to tell you every day until I die.'

'I can't ask you to do that.'

He smiled at you, a heart-breaking smile of love. 'You haven't.'

You open your mouth to say something, but you're interrupted by Cassain poking his head through the tent flaps. The rest of his whole body was hidden, only showing his bronze face and hair framing him. There was a sheepish smile on his lips.

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

'What? It didn't sound like much love making going on.'

'Mother above,' you sighed.

'What?' whined Cassian. 'I'm just saying, didn't sound like I was interrupting anything.'

'Personally I didn't know he was capable of saying that many words,' said another voice, familiar and dull. Nesta.

You frown. 'I'm sorry, is the whole camp out there.' You storm out, without Azriel to stop you.

He let you get away, again, and now there was no way he'd get you to accept the bond until the battle was done.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time you and Azriel spoke, the war was over.

Elian had stabbed Hybern, Nesta had delivered the killing blow, to the head. And your brother had died.

For those few minutes of his death you wanted Feyre weep for him as you stood paralyzed, unable to move. This was the brother you worshiped, the one you’d follow to the end of the world. Did he know that when he went where you could not follow?

Feyre had done everything she could, she begged for his life back. And when her wish was granted, you were collapsing on his other side. Tears of joy in your eyes that Rhys wiped away.

Your family, safe.

Everyone seemed happy to return to Velaris. Home. Scars were left over everyone, fears and pains. Some wore them better than others.

You'd thrown yourself into life. And avoiding Azriel. Suddenly there were many friends you'd neglected that you needed to take dinner with, or so many spontaneous Rita nights with Nesta.

And none of it escaped his notice. The steady thump of the bond still thrived inside of you, his shadows followed everywhere you went, even loitering in your room.

If he was doing it in an attempt to annoy you, then you weren't gonna break first.

After a particularly harrowing Rita's night, the only thing you wanted to do was sleep in for the rest of the day, hide away from everyone and everything. Call it your coping mechanism.

Alas, there was no peace as your curtains were thrown open, light spilling in and burning through your eyelids.

'Knock it off!' the shadows had never bothered with waking you up before- it seemed they'd picked the worst time to start.

'We need to talk,' said a voice that certainly wasn't a shadow.

Rhysand.

You groan, rolling over. 'Can't you talk to me when i'm not hungover.'

'And when would that be, sister? you're getting as bad as Nesta.'

You throw your pillow off and at him, but he dodged it easily and with a smug smile. 'I hate it when you call me that.'

'What? When I compare you to Nesta? Clean up your act then.' He stood over your bed, his arms folded over his chest.

You glare at him. 'I meant sister.' You shuffled up, brushing your hair back.

Rhysand frowned and perched himself on the edge of your bed. There was something he wasn't saying, and you watched it weight heavy on his shoulders. 'You know the last time I was in your room you were throwing glasses at me and yelling at me to get out.'

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

His lips curled into a smile of amusement before he turned solemn again. 'Do you love me, y/n?'

You hadn't expected that. Your hangover could only get worse, your head swimming with possibilities as to why he was asking. And nervous, you were nervous. Maybe you'd never said you loved him out loud but surely your actions were enough of a tell. 'You're my high lord and my brother, of course.' you shrug it off, as if it was nothing.

The shadows trailed up the bed, as if sensing your anxiety.

Rhysand glanced over at you. 'Do you think I don't love you?'

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

'Because I do. I do love you. You're my little sister, how can I not?' he muttered. 'And I didn't know you felt like that.'

'It was just sort of... obvious,' you said. 'I was never your sister, not really. I always knew that. You'd never see me like that so, I gave up thinking you would. But you're the only family I have.'

'No, I'm not,' he denied. 'Y/n, everyone in this house loves you. They're your family. And i'm sorry- i'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you think different.'

'Why now?' you ask, eyes screwed up looking at him. 'Why are you saying all this now, what's changed?'

He shook his head, strands of his hair- the same as yours- falling over his eyes. 'You almost died, died on that battlefield and I-I wasn't the first one there. Granted, it was your mate that reached you first but I, I wasn't there quick enough.'

You meet his gaze, his purple eyes sad in a way you'd only ever seen under the mountain. 'You died.'

'And as I was dying one of my deepest regrets was not calling you sister enough,' he shifted closer, taking your head in his hands as if you were a little kid. 'You are my sister. Full flesh and blood. Full love of mine. You are my family. After everything you've done for me. You were right, I needed you under there, when there was nothing good to keep me grounded, but you. My little sister.'

You were sure you were tearing up in front of him.

'You'll always be my sister.'

You laugh. 'Maybe I should get stabbed more often.'

'No,' he said seriously. 'I don't think Azriel would like that very much.'

The mention of him changed the tone in conversation, changed the very beating of your heart.

'What's going on with you two?'

'Oh, I see,' you tease, 'talk to me above sister and brotherly relations just to get in my love life. Not a good look on you high lord.'

He laughed. 'No, it's not that. I just care about the two of you, a lot. And you both deserve to be happy. And I think you'd be happiest with each other.'

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

'Would it be so bad to try to love him?'

You shake your head, smiling as a tear rolls down your cheek. 'I don't even have to try. Feels like i've loved him forever.' his shadows climbed up your arm, leaving Rhysand to smile at the affection.

'You'll work it out,' said Rhys, leaning over and kissing the crown of your head.

Your door was thrown open, startling the two of you.

Azriel stood there. For his entrance, he didn't at all seem that confident when he stood in front of the two of you. His hands didn't know how to hold themselves in front of him.

Your brows rose. 'Were you listening at the door?'

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

'Get dressed,' he said simply to you. 'There's something you need to see.'

Without much room for argument, you kicked them both out and dressed.

You'd grudgingly let Azriel hold your hand as he led you through the woods. You'd winnowed in at an illyrian camp before he took you through it and into the woods close by.

It was the same camp you'd first met Azriel in. The oldest where you'd all become friends. You'd asked what you were doing there, but he was quiet as he led you through, helping you over roots or breaking twigs from the trees so they didn't hit you.

'Azriel, to any other girl, you leading her silently through a woods without saying anything would be a bit suspicious,' you tell him. His shadows trailed behind the two of you and his hand was secure in yours. You knew not to be scared, but you were still cautious.

'I wouldn't show any girl this,' he said.

After another half hour of walking, the two of you stumbled across a small hut. It was a tiny thing really, made out of twigs and sticks, hay and mud. It looked like something a child was capable of making.

Azriel paused in front of it. He let go of you hand and reached for the door. He was as tall as it and his wings had to tuck in tightly behind him.

Hesitantly, you followed in.

It was just as small as it looked and dirty, like it hadn't been touched in years. Cobwebs hung low (his shadows quickly tried to bat them all away for you) there was dirt and hay all over the floor. Glasses were dust filled and left around with a hundred other things. Some looked new, others old.

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

You looked back at him. He was hunched over a large box that was overflowing with things. 'You?'

'The first time my brothers picked on me, I came to these woods, working on this for days. Every time things got too much back then, i'd come here. I've been coming back for years.' he glanced at you, a sheepish look on his face. 'I've never showed anyone this before.'

You look around the place in new perspectives. The shadows settled around the place. You pictured a little Az, running here and hiding from his brothers. Did he feel alone? Did he feel un-loved? You were so enamoured by it you didn't realise he'd settled on the ground, pulling out things from his box.

'This is your glove, the one's you were wearing when we first met. You took them off to beat up some kid who was being mean to me. You didn't go back for them, you didn't even care.'

He said, pulling out a pair of red wool gloves. In spite of the hut, they were in perfect condition. Pristine. You remembered first meeting him, remembered the little soldier who'd been horrible. Those gloves wouldn't go anywhere near your hand now.

Azriel went in again. 'This is the empty glass jar of the cream you used to help my burns. Here's a book you read to me when I couldn't flip the pages myself. The notes you'd leave when you had to go back to camp. The flowers you picked for me and gave me for my birthday. Dried and stamped from every time you gave them to me.'

You stood, in shock as he kept taking things out.

'A terrible drawing I did of you when I was young. A locket of yours that broke and you never wore again. Stamps from our first theatre trip. Empty bottles from our first night together in Rita's- and Cassian's too. A letter you wrote to me when I was on a mission. A black ribbon from your hair, you used to always wear it with these things. Honestly, the amount I have in here,' and he pulled out several, of varying shades. Black, white, grey, red, dark green. All yours.

Azriel wasn't done. 'A page of annotations you did in one of Rhysand's books. A copy of your favourite poems. A coaster from the first time just you and I went to dinner. Here's some stones from when I first taught you to skim them. A quill that I used to use to write you letters. An old ring of yours is here too. Here's the first dagger you got me. It's too precious to me to be used to kill.'

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you watched him pull them all out and explain them in depth. There was more but the sight of it all was becoming blurred through your tears. The bond felt heavy and beautiful in you.

Azriel finally put the box down and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands came around the back of your thighs, holding you there as his eyes looked up into yours. 'Don't you ever think I don't love you, when I have loved you since we were eleven years old.'

You stutter on you breath. 'H-how?'

He rests his head on your stomach, looking utterly at your will and completely in love. 'How could I not?'

Slowly, as you could not move too fast, you settled down on your knees across from him. His hands moved up to your arms as yours went to his cheeks, brushing back his hair.

'It was always going to be you, wasn't it?' you mumbled. 'How could it be anyone else?'

Azriel kissed you then, finally. His lips were as soft as they'd looked, as you'd always imagined. His hands drifted to your waist, finger tips digging into to hold you close. His hands were strong, but his lips were gentle. He pulled away, only to groan in need before reaching for your lips again, harder, desperate.

His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, tongue sliding in to feel every corner of your mouth as his hands wondered around you, trying to grip onto any bit of you he could. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. Close enough to consume, to breath in.

You pulled back enough to catch your breath, arms still around his shoulders. 'Mother above, am I gonna make you the best meal of your life.'

But that could wait. For now, you'd settle for a dusty floor in the little house in the woods.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @tothestarsandwhateverend @darlingbravebelle @lil-lupa @haileycannotcometothephantom @fairywriter-oracle @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @unleashthelion @naturakaashi @aurora1115 @sirens-and-moonflowers @azriels-shadowsinger @willowpains @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @anuttellaa @wishfulwithwine @one-big-fangirl @harrystylesfan2686 @charlotteintumbleland @mellowarcadefun @starseedsamurai

#azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #azriel x oc #azriel x elain #azriel x female!reader #azriel x original character #swifties

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yiiyiiwrites · 2 months

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🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 4 |

Part 4 [series masterlist]

Summary: you’re a mender from the dawn court specialised in cursed or broken relics. When Azriel enters the dawn court the truth-teller is silent, it’s not till he asks for your help that realises who you are. 2121words [not edited yet] Azriel’s PoV 😌

The first thing Azriel did after under the mountain was take the ancient sword back to Velaris. He knew that Rhys’s order was one to keep him distracted, one to shield him from gazing upon his mate in the arms of a Vanserra.

When he returned to the Dawn court mere seconds later, he’d caught a glimpse of her hands linked to Eris’s. He took one stride forward, halting at his high lords words invading his mind. A command for him to wait for them to leave.

He wondered if she felt the same anger raging through her, his shadows snarling in his ears, urging him to follow.

The little connection she did send down the mating bond subtle, as if he held a seashell against his ear. It calmed him, but he wondered what depths he’d drown in when the bond snapped.

Would she want to tread the choppy waters or sink down?

Azriel squinted in the morning sun, dark wisps hissing around him trying to hide in the shade of his tucked wings.

The dawn court just as beautiful as her, sweet aroma of cherry blossoms, blush pink petals falling from above and he inhaled the scent, the same one that filled his senses whenever she was with him. He caught a few petals in his gloved hand, not as sweet as hers though so he released them.

He leant against the marble balcony, watching the clouds sweep below him. Minutes felt like centuries waiting for her, now that he knew where she was and with who. That smarmy bastard’s touch roaming all over her, the way she looked at him fuelling his anger.

A sudden jolt of pain spread through his chest, he rubbed the spot pausing as he realised it was her anger surging through him. So much rage beneath the calm, but it was gone before he could delve into the bond. He cursed himself for not comforting her, didn’t want to ignite that raw emotion or push her too far.

Murmuring shadows dove from the sanctuary of his wings and danced by his ears. Telling him that Eris wasn’t far, he turned to face the archway. Eris winnowing as soon as he stepped out on the summoning platform. The smirk not playing on his lips, a hard line settling on his forehead.

Cassian and Rhys emerged from the veiled drapes, silent, never a good stance in the face of his shadows. Dark wisps tore towards Cassian, the one that normally folded so easily but he swatted the pesky buggers away.

Before Azriel could ask what happened, she walked out onto the balcony. He could have sworn she commanded the sun, the way it escaped the clouds and laid upon her like a spotlight. Her bronzed skin glimmering, amber eyes of melted honey sliding to meet his hazel ones.

She moved with the wind, sheer cape floating along with her as she let it carry herself towards him. The blood rushed to his ears, thumping of his heartbeat overpowering the dark wisps that murmured around him, they tried to conceal his face but vanished as if scared of her approach.

A hard shove shifted his weight, "I can hear your heartbeat from here brother," he teased, Cassian’s laugh stealing him away from his trance.

So captivating, the way she drew him in.

His hazel eyes flitted back to hers, breath catching in his throat as she stood before him.

Could she feel the thread between them, the tight knot like a game of tug of war. Him trying to lightly pluck it and her straightening it out, only making him want to go closer. He remained in his spot, not wanting to scare her.

“You’ll be travelling with Azriel,” Rhys said, grabbing Cassian’s arm and winnowing away.

Azriel didn’t miss the tremble jutting her chest, the way she looked for someone else. Looked for Eris instead on him. A jolt stabbed his chest, what he’d do for her to search the lands for him.

“Ready,” he said, holding a gloved hand out. She hesitated, small hand taking his much larger one. He hooked his arm under her legs and held her against his chest.

He stepped back into the shadows. Like walking through a black veil, the darkness cool against his skin beckoning them further into the unknown, but he’d mastered it every time. She clutched on to him, eyes squeezed shut and fingers clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. He bit back a groan.

Silvery lights flickered beyond, the night sky appearing through the edges of darkness. The mist of clouds skimmed his cheeks, wind in his wings reminding him to be careful.

As he landed, his eyes fell on the side of her face, the curve of her nose reminding him how close she got to Eris. He couldn’t stop thinking about her with him.

Setting her down on the balcony, one hand on her back steadying her and the other trailing from her shoulder to her wrist. She was quick to slip out of his hold, arms tucked behind her back.

Azriel pushed the disappointment away, he stepped back allowing her more space. The furrow of her brow deepening, she took a hesitant step towards him, but he knew it was just the bond and not her wanting to. He'd wait, wait for her to seek him out when she truly wanted to.

“Welcome to Velaris,” he said, he couldn’t help but smile back at her, the ache of his stretched lips where he’d smiled so much in her presence.

She bowed her head, “thank you,” she said. Hair falling in front of her, a stray shadow escaping her short locks.

The stray shadowy wisp lifted her chin, her lips parting as she looked up at him.

“You do not have to bow to me.”

She swayed at his words, the back of her hand flicking the dark wisp from under her chin, knuckles leaving red marks under her neck as she rubbed the area.

Azriel stilled, the tattoo, one of a bargain. The autumn court tree marred with patches of puckered skin. Scars he too was familiar with.

“So she made a bargain with him?” Azriel paced the floor in front of Rhys’s desk. Wings tucked, hands moving in motion with his words. His shadows swirled around the back of his neck, as if protecting where she’d last touched.

They didn’t speak of the burns on her arm, nor did they ask her.

“Yes,” Rhys nodded, his eyes trailed his friend. “Under the mountain. She hasn’t said what exactly, but there seems to be a strong connection between them.” Feyre perched on his lap, silent as she took all the new information in. She nodded along, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Part of him didn’t want to know what the bargain entailed, the thought alone made his shadows spiral. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the reason out loud yet. He doubted she’d share it with him either.

Cassian had chosen to keep the mender company, the anger still rolling off of him at the mention of Eris. He hadn’t spoken to Azriel since they’d left under the mountain and he knew it best to let him stew, he’d work it out later.

“You think that’s why she’s unsure around me. The bargain confusing the bond between us?” Azriel could sense the confusion, the back and forth reactions that unfolded whenever she was with him. He too, hesitant to reach out or speak first, only following her lead.

“It could be, I suppose only time will tell,” Feyre said, she pushed out of Rhys's arms, her fingers tracing his shoulders as she walked to Azriel.

Everything ached for Azriel, seeing his two brother's with their mates. It had never bothered him before, but seeing them have another person to go home to, someone to hold and talk to it made him want it more too. For centuries he'd thrown himself into his work, convincing himself that he wasn't meant to have a mate, but when he saw her that all came undone. He came undone.

“Tread carefully, we still have work to do. I don’t need the two of you distracted.” Rhys warned him, leaning back in his chair and sifting through the paperwork on his desk.

Azriel nodded, he understood the importance of the work they had to do and was willing to put his own feelings aside in order to get it done. He just hoped the bond didn't snap for her during that time, later on when things were settled and he knew the situation better he'd explore the depths of their bond.

“Maybe spend some time with her, she can get a feel for the energy you both share. Make her comfortable and wait for her to make the first move.” Feyre said, she took up space beside him as they exited Rhys's office and stepped into the hallway.

If he didn't know any better he could have sworn she was enjoying his torment, her words pushing him towards the mender. The exact opposite of Rhys's advice. His shadows murmuring for him to listen to his high lady.

"I can't wait to meet her," Feyre said, turning to him and walking backwards. "Introduce me?" She clasped her hands under her chin as if begging him to do so. She halted, eyes glazing over.

"Loverboy calling you?" Azriel smirked, the slight nod of her head making him chuckle.

Feyre squeezed past him, "you'll understand soon enough, Az," she called over her shoulder. He watched her disappear down the hallway and slip back into the office.

Azriel would thank Rhys later for the lucky escape, not wanting to overwhelm his mate by meeting the whole inner circle at once. He was glad Amren and Mor were busy with other tasks. He wondered what kind of friends she surrounded herself with, if they would welcome him like his friends would her.

As Azriel rounded the corner, he heard the echoes of Cassian's laugh, but it was her hand on his arm that made him stop. Sitting on the small sofa by the fire, her body angled to his and lips curved a smile. Cassian's gaze swept to him, smirking, the bastard knowing full well how he'd feel seeing them so close.

"Oh," she said pushing her back against the arm of the chair to create some distance, hand dropping as if she'd been burnt. "Azriel." Her brows furrowed, it seemed to be something she always did when she noticed him. Her arm tucked behind her back once again, heat darkening her cheeks.

"Az will show you to your room," Cassian stumbled over his words, rushing them out as he stood up. "Nesta sorted your belongings, they'll be waiting for you." A genuine smile plastered on his face at the mention of his mate.

"Thank you," she said, head bowing slightly.

Cassian walked to Azriel, palm slapping his back as he leant in to whisper. "Room opposite yours, Nesta's idea."

Azriel nodded, the glare he gave his brother earning a toothy grin in return. Nesta and her romance books, not a good mix when he's longing for a person he cant really have at the moment. He nudged his head to the hallway, the mender following him in silence.

The silence never used to be a problem for him, he frequently sought it after a long day with the inner circle, but with her he wanted to fill it. Wanted to ask her a million questions, discover what type of person she was and what she liked in others. If she'd like him.

He wondered if she were biting her tongue too.

"This is your room," Azriel said, pushing the door open for her. She entered, gaze flitting back to his as he leant against the doorframe. "My room is opposite if you need anything, but the house is sentient so you can ask it for stuff too."

She walked over to him, hand slipping into his and amber eyes connecting with his. "Thank you, Azriel. I hope we can work well together whilst I'm here."

He patted her hand, unable to say anything before he retreated to his own room. God's it was going to be harder than he thought, he had to leave before he walked into her room and said too much. He collapsed face first into his bed, thinking about her hands in his hair and her breath on the side of his neck. His senses clouded by that cherry blossom scent, that he just wanted to dream about her.

Would she dream of him too? Hopefully they'd meet there, too.

taglist:@rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97, @thecraziestcrayon, @i-am-infinite Thanks for all your lovely comments and for reading, Hope you like this chapter :) Azriel is down baaad - Yiiyii

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slytherin-pen · 3 months

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Season of Shadows

A/N: My first fanfic and specifically my first time writing on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to comment suggestions or recommendations! I wrote this with an OC, but I love x reader fics too so I might give it a try in the future.

Ivy joined the Inner Circle six months ago, just before they went to war with Hybern. Now, a few weeks later, after wounds are healed, the Night Court is ready to celebrate their victory. All but one, one who thought everyone was blind to her fake smiles. She clearly underestimated the ever-observant Spymaster.

warnings: mentions of past death

pairing: azriel x oc

word count: 2.4k

all acotar related credits go to SJM

banner credit to @cafekitsune

The music at Rita’s reverberated in Ivy's ears as she observed her friends on the dance floor. Feyra, Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta moved sensually with their partners, while Mor attracted numerous admirers of both genders.

Ivy remained at their table alone nursing her third glass of wine. She wasn’t much of a drinker but taking a sip seemed to be her nervous tic at this point. Amren was spending the night with Varian, and Elain had stayed home as usual. Azriel had walked off to the bar shortly after the group's arrival. The Inner Circle had endured a lot. After the war with Hybern, several members suffered from significant injuries. Although wings and bones could be mended, the invisible scars often proved more challenging. This was Ivy’s current predicament. No amount of wine could erase the memory of witnessing her childhood best friend perish on the battlefield.

Hybern had infiltrated their village in the Spring Court, demanding the villagers either join them or die. Ivy had already left the village, following her now High Lady during her final escape from Spring. Ivy’s father, a guard for Tamlin, had been left to die for a High Lord who cared little for his people. When Ivy spotted Lucien and Feyra fleeing through the woods, she pleaded to join them, offering her powers in aid. She realized that to help her people, she needed to escape the Spring Court and align with those taking action.

Ivy’s ability to manipulate plants proved invaluable when, minutes after finding Lucien and Feyra, two Hybern soldiers emerged from the trees. Although she was not a fighter, she used the vines on nearby trees to restrain the soldiers, allowing Feyra to finish them off.

Now, as she sat in Rita’s, she reflected on every letter exchanged with Wells during Hybern’s reign over Spring, questioning when exactly she had failed him and her village. Upon joining the Inner Circle, Ivy had hoped to return and help her people, but she had not arrived in time. Wells had joined Hybern, believing it was the only way to save his family, but Hybern did not honor their agreement. Wells became a traitor in many eyes, dying in vain, and now his family and he were both gone.

Ivy could not share her grief openly. Not only was she the only one who knew Wells, but he was also deemed a traitor. Sympathy was scarce for those who had sided with the enemy. Her attempts to speak on his behalf were swiftly dismissed. Most believed that he should have died with honor alongside his family. It wasn’t that simple; he was just a kid, not a soldier. Her efforts felt futile, leaving her to mourn alone, bearing a heavy heart.

She slid out of the booth after finishing her wine. The two couples and Mor continued dancing as she made her way to the back door. She needed a moment to breathe. Being surrounded by joy while she crumbled inside was overwhelming. Stepping into the night, she took a sharp inhale, the chilled air biting her nose and cheeks, flushing her pale skin. A few paces from the bar, she sat on a bench facing a pathway through the town.

Ivy often distracted herself by imagining the lives of strangers based on their appearance. One couple that passed had clearly argued; the female stomped ahead while the male trailed behind, head down like a chastised child. Another woman seemed to have just finished work at a bakery, given her tired demeanor and the white powder on her shirt.

Just as Ivy began to analyze a passing man, she sensed a presence beside her. Azriel sat down, his shadows lingering near his shoulders, with a few tendrils curling around her feet. He remained silent, staring straight ahead. Ivy accepted his company and resumed her people-watching.

A few minutes passed before Azriel spoke. “He’s a farmer.”

Ivy turned towards him. “What?”

Azriel nodded towards an older man with mud-stained knees and a tan stopping at his short sleeves. “That man, I bet he’s a farmer.”

“Oh,” Ivy murmured. “How did you-”

“I’m the Spymaster,” Azriel replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you.”

“Right,” Ivy said, wringing her hands together. Unlike Azriel's leathers, she wore a dress that ended at her knees and a thick wool cardigan. She still wasn’t accustomed to the Night Court’s weather. While it experienced all four seasons, unlike the Seasonal Courts, she thought she’d always miss eternal spring.

“Why are you out here instead of inside with the others?” he asked. His wings were tucked in, and Ivy swore she could see the moonlight streaming through the membrane. This, she thought, is a creature meant for the night.

“I just—” she took a deep breath, “needed a minute. It’s hard to hear your thoughts in there sometimes.”

“I understand,” he said. His hazel eyes searched her face. “Do you want to talk about it? I promise I’m the least likely in the Circle to interrupt you.”

Ivy chuckled at the jab at his more boisterous family members. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it. No one else does.”

A shadow gently pushed strands of her blonde hair behind her pointed ear, giving Azriel a clearer view of her face. “Try me.”

She looked at him through her lashes and sighed. “My friend Wells. I miss him, or who he used to be, I suppose.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as if sifting through his memories. “The friend who joined Hybern?”

“Yes,” she said, a tear sliding down her face. “That friend. And honestly, Azriel, if you’re just going to tell me to forget about him or curse his grave, I really—”

Azriel took her hands, forcing her nails to release the skin they had been piercing in her tight grip. She could still feel the warmth through his leather gloves. “That’s not what I was going to say. Your friend faced a terrible choice. A choice that none of us have faced nor can we predict how we would’ve reacted. He was your friend, and you’re allowed to mourn him as such,” he said softly.

More tears clouded her blue eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she rasped. “I visited our village a few days ago to see how the repairs were coming along.” Her gaze dropped to her hands still held in his, and he gave a comforting squeeze. “They wrote ‘traitors’ on the door in red paint, meant to look like blood, I’m sure. And the looks I got just for being there... I didn’t even dare try to clean any of it up.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You went to Spring? With who?”

Ivy did not look up from their hands and bit her bottom lip instead.

One of Azriel's shadows crept under her chin, tilting her face towards him. His pupils flicked between her eyes before he asked incredulously, “You went alone, didn’t you?”

Ivy nodded, removing one of her hands from his grasp to wipe her tears with her knuckles. “I had no choice. Do you think if I asked, someone would’ve taken me? Your whole family hates the Spring Court.” Azriel clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to correct her. They are her family too now, but her not viewing them as such was just a small piece of the puzzle he planned to solve.

“I would have.” He grabbed her hand again and scooted closer until their thighs touched, the leather of his pants grazing her bare skin. “I would have gone with you. Crossing borders alone is dangerous, no matter who you are. Besides, I would have supported you. You didn’t need to do that alone, emotionally either.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” she sniffled.

“Would you like to go home? To the House of Wind, I mean. Everyone else will stay at the River House tonight. Depending on how you want to spend the rest of your night, we could raid Rhys’ wine cellar or ask the House for tea.”

Ivy smiled slightly at the offer. “I’d like to go home. And have tea. I’m putting on a brave face right now, but I rarely drink, and I am feeling it.”

Azriel chuckled as he stood, gently pulling her up with him. “Would you like to fly or winnow?”

Ivy looked up at the sky and then back to Azriel. “I’ve never flown with you before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he smirked. He guided her arm around his neck before lifting her, one hand looping under her thighs and the other around her torso. “Hold on tight.”

An hour later, Ivy and Azriel finished their second cup of chamomile tea, courtesy of the House. Azriel had changed into a black tunic and sleep pants, while Ivy had replaced her dress with a nightgown under her cardigan.

The fire in the hearth provided some warmth, but Ivy's fingers and toes remained slightly numb from the cold. Lucky Illyrian, she thought. They were built for this climate. Ivy felt like a snake trying to survive in an igloo. She had settled in front of the hearth with a blanket in her lap, while Azriel sat in the armchair to her left. Some of his shadows slithered across the floor, into her lap, and curled around her hands. As she lifted her hands to observe them, she realized they had formed into glove-like shapes over her fingers.

“Are you still cold?” Azriel asked. Ivy had half a mind to tell him he already knew the answer. He didn’t need to be the Spymaster or use his shadows to notice the shivers she was trying to conceal.

Ivy smiled sheepishly. “A little, but it’s alright. I’ve lived here for six months, and hypothermia hasn’t claimed me yet.”

Azriel smiled as he stood before sitting on the floor next to her. “Well, I’d like to keep it that way.” He stretched his legs out alongside hers, pulling some of the blanket over himself before curling his wings around them. “Better?”

The view of the rest of the room was blocked by his wings, trapping the heat from the fire and directing it back toward him and Ivy. She could barely suppress the shudder of pleasure at the newfound warmth. She hadn’t realized how much of it had been wasted filling the rest of the room. “Yes, thank you,” she replied with a small smile.

Azriel put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. “It’s alright to miss your home, you know? Our family might not like Spring, and its High Lord even less, but we understand.”

Ivy sighed and played with a loose thread on the blanket. “I’d just rather not bring it up. Of course, I sympathize with what Feyre went through, not just the day I found her but before too. I just can’t stand to hear how they talk about it. The Spring I grew up in was nothing like she described, and now it’s all destroyed. It’s not like I could take everyone there now and show them how beautiful it was.”

Azriel was silent for a moment, pondering her words. She was right. The Inner Circle would never understand the beauty she claimed for the Spring Court, and with Tamlin as High Lord, they might never see it until someone else took over, which could take a millennium. “Cassian and I get into fights over Illyria sometimes.”

Ivy frowned as she faced the Shadowsinger. “About what?”

He shifted slightly and stared into the fire. “It’s no secret that Cass and I had our…misfortunes in the camps we called home. The difference now is Cassian still sees Illyria as his home. He still has hope it could be a better place someday.”

“And you don’t?”

Shaking his head, “No, I don’t.” Ivy reached over and grabbed his scarred hand, giving it a squeeze as he had for her. “Here is my home now. Rhys and Cass know that if I weren’t the Spymaster with duties requiring me to visit the camps, I’d never set foot in Illyria again. Aside from all the bad memories, the males don’t respect us, and they never will. It’s very difficult to change a place that sees you as dirt under their boots.”

Ivy fiddled with his scarred fingers in her lap. “So you and Cassian fought about what to do with the camps?”

“Not exactly,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “My point is that having disagreements about our homes is nothing new for us. Cassian and I see Illyria differently. Even Mor battles with herself about the Court of Nightmares. She hates her father and Hewn City, but it was still her home. No amount of hatred, even on her end, will change that. The same way none of our opinions about your home will change the fact that you grew up there. It will always have a piece of you.”

Her lips quivered before she turned her head away. “I wish I— I couldn’t help them in time. I left them alone thinking I was going to be some hero, we both did, and we both failed.” The tears rolling down her face reflected the flames in the hearth. “How am I any better than him? We both thought we were doing the right thing.” Instead of a shadow again, it was Azriel’s thumb that wiped her cheeks gently.

“And you weren’t wrong,” he whispered. “Just because things didn’t go as planned doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth trying. I have failed hundreds of missions in my lifetime. I don’t regret all of them. Some just didn’t go my way.”

“I regret this one,” she sobbed. “He’s dead. It’s all my fault!”

Azriel quickly brought her into his lap and tightened his wings around them. He cupped her face with his free hand as he spoke. “Ivy. Ivy, look at me.”

She continued to sob and gasp but looked at him nonetheless.

“It’s not your fault.” He rested his forehead on hers. “It’s not your fault. And I will take you to the Spring Court if that’s what you need. To help with repairs, say goodbye, pack— anything.”

“Thank you,” she rasped. “I appreciate that.” She attempted a small smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

Azriel smiled softly and kissed her head. “Why don’t we get you to bed? You’ll have a busy day tomorrow. You’re planning our itinerary.”

Ivy managed a laugh and nodded. Azriel easily stood with her in his arms and walked toward the stairs. “Thank you, Az. It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he whispered as her head rested against his chest and her eyes closed.

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alyslittlehaven · 2 months

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'Of Shadows And Moonlight'

Azriel x Moonlight Weaver!Oc (AKA Ezme.)

ACT I. 'Wind and Firelight.'

Prologue.

After a long night of going over reports, and making sure all of his spies are right where they need to be. Azriel is summoned to his high lord's study with a special diplomatic mission. To go to the Haven and talk the Lady of Moonlight into an alliance.

Azriel stepped out of his room, the heavy wooden door closing with a soft thud behind him. His brother's voice still echoed in his mind, a mix of authority and urgency. The dimly lit hallway stretched out before him, shadows flickering along the stone walls as torches burned low.

His fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger, a habitual gesture that brought him a measure of comfort. The thought of the meeting ahead made his jaw clench. What could Rhysand possibly want now? He had just spent hours sifting through endless reports, each one more monotonous than the last.

As he walked, his boots barely made a sound on the polished marble floors. The cold air of the castle prickled his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his quarters. He passed by the grand tapestry depicting the Night Court's history, its intricate details almost lost in the dim light.

The scent of lavender from the nearby garden wafted through an open window, a brief respite from the tension coiling in his chest. Azriel took a deep breath, his shadows whispering around him in a restless dance.

He descended a flight of stairs, the stone steps worn smooth by centuries of use. A couple of guards nodded respectfully as he passed, their presence a silent reminder of the constant vigilance required in their world.

Turning a corner, Azriel found himself in front of the double doors leading to Rhysand's study. He paused for a moment, letting his fingers rest on the cool wood. The muffled sounds of conversation seeped through the heavy doors, a sign that the others had already gathered.

With a final, steadying breath, Azriel pushed the doors open and stepped inside, ready to face whatever awaited him.

The air in the study was thick with tension, a palpable anticipation that seemed to hang in the flickering candlelight. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, stood behind his massive ebony desk, his violet eyes sweeping over the assembled members of his inner circle. His cousin Mor lounged in a chair, feigning nonchalance but with a keen edge to her gaze. Cassian, the hulking warrior, stood by the window, arms crossed, his presence like a coiled spring. Feyre, Rhysand's wife, leaned against the mantelpiece, her fingers tracing patterns in the dust. And in the shadowed corner, barely more than a silhouette, stood Azriel.

Azriel's dragon-like wings were folded tightly against his back, his shadows whispering around him in a constant, restless dance. He was quiet as always, the weight of his duties evident in the hard set of his jaw and the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yet, even as the spymaster of the Night Court, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze tonight.

Rhysand's voice broke the silence, low and authoritative. "We have a new mission," he began, his tone brooking no argument. "A delicate matter that requires a very specific touch."

Mor raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Delicate, you say? And who exactly is this mission for?"

Rhysand's gaze shifted to Azriel, the intensity of his stare a silent command. "Azriel," he said, his voice softer now but no less firm. "You are to meet with the Lady of Moonlight."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Cassian's eyes narrowed, and Feyre's lips parted in a silent question. But it was Azriel who spoke, his voice a low, measured rumble. "The Lady of Moonlight? Ezme?"

Rhysand nodded. "Yes. She possesses abilities that could be invaluable to us. But she is… particular about whom she associates with. I believe you, Azriel, might be the only one she will take interest in."

Azriel's shadows seemed to grow darker, more agitated, as he considered the High Lord's words. Ezme. The name alone conjured images of silvery moonlight and haunting beauty. He had heard of her, of course—everyone had. A fae woman of remarkable power, able to turn moonlight into sentient wisps, guiding them with a will of their own. Mysterious, elusive, and reputedly unapproachable.

"Why me?" Azriel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rhysand's smile was enigmatic. "Because, Azriel, you understand the duties that are placed upon someone with status…and she won't speak to anyone that doesn't intrigue her"

The room fell silent once more, each member of the inner circle lost in their thoughts. Azriel felt the weight of their gazes, the unspoken expectations. He was the spymaster, the unseen blade of the Night Court. But this mission felt different, charged with a personal edge he had not anticipated.

As Rhysand laid out the details of the mission, Azriel's thoughts drifted to Ezme. The Lady of Moonlight. He wondered what she was like, this enigmatic fae who commanded the night with such grace. And as the candles burned low, casting long shadows across the room, he felt a strange sense of destiny intertwining with duty, binding him to a path that was as mysterious and uncertain as the moonlit night itself.

Cassian watched the door close behind Rhysand and Feyre, the soft click echoing in the now quiet room. He turned to Azriel, the smug look replaced by genuine concern.

"Are you really okay with this?" Cassian asked, his voice lower, more serious. "I know you're tired."

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair, scattering the remaining donut powder. "It's not like I have a choice. Rhys needs this done, and I’m the best person for the job."

Cassian nodded, his expression softening. "Just be careful. The Lady of Moonlight… she has a reputation for being unpredictable."

"I'll manage," Azriel replied, though he couldn't shake the unease settling in his gut. He had faced countless dangers, but something about this mission felt different, more personal.

Cassian clapped a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring weight. "If anyone can handle it, it's you. Just remember, we're here if you need us."

Azriel managed a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Cass."

With that, Cassian left the room, leaving Azriel alone with his thoughts. He took a moment to gather himself, then turned and headed to his quarters to prepare for the journey ahead. As he walked through the quiet halls, his mind drifted to the Lady of Moonlight. What kind of person was she? Would she be as difficult to deal with as Rhysand feared?

He stepped into his room, the familiar surroundings doing little to ease his mind. His shadows swirled around him, restless and agitated, mirroring his own feelings. Azriel packed a small bag, ensuring he had everything he might need for the weekend mission.

As he finished, he paused by the window, looking out at the night sky. The moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the city. He wondered if the Lady of Moonlight was looking at the same moon, perhaps sensing his impending arrival.

Azriel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He had faced many challenges before, but this one felt different. More than ever, he needed to be at his best, not just for Rhysand, but for the Night Court.

With a final glance around his room, Azriel closed his bag and headed for the door. It was time to face whatever awaited him in the Haven.

#acotar #fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #original character #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #Ezmerela Folorias #fiction #azriel x oc #azriel supremacy #prologue #feyre archeron #azriel x Ezmerela Folorias #original female character #lady of moonlight #of shadows and moonlight

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marvelsmylife · 8 months

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Soul(Mates)

Pairing: Ex! Steve Rogers x OC(Poppy), Azriel x OC(Poppy)

Plot: In a world where everyone was born with their soulmate's name written on their right wrist it would be Poppy’s luck that she was born without a name on said wrist. She thought it was going to be ok, seeing as your boyfriend Steve’s soulmate had already passed. Unfortunately he ends up cheating on her with his soulmates grandniece and ends up going back in time to be with said soulmate. Only for him to come back several months later after his relationship with his soulmate doesn’t work out and wants to get back together. She obviously don’t and actively avoid him until one night after one of Tony’s infamous parties. When Stephen Strange performs a spell to see if she truly are soulmateless but ends up opening a portal to where her soulmate truly is.

a/n I don't know how many chapters this is going to have. Also, let me know if you would like to be tagged in the story.

One

#avengers imagines #acotar imagine #steve rogers imagines #azriel imagine #azriel x original character #steve rogers x original female character #azriel x reader #steve rogers x reader

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yourlittlebunnyy · 19 days

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me when i realise i have ocs and i can make them suffer as much as i please

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aquanova99 · 9 months

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕞

Azriel x OC

Part 3

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➽───────────────❥

Well, that was a dumb idea. Why? Why did she feel the need to do that? Callista’s brows furrowed as her body curled into itself. She hadn’t even asked the young woman if she could use her magic on her. She couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. Sad at the suggestion of flight, but no tears at the long since acceptance of her position, her fate. Callista had to remind herself that she didn’t know these people, she had to remember Azriel’s warnings. If they somehow found her home, would they try and exploit everyone’s gifts? Fight these wars everyone seems on edge about? Part of her was worried it was a dream, and when she woke up she would be back in Luminia, part of her was hopeful she didn’t put everyone at risk by leaving. The light shining through one of the windows caused her eyes to reflectively squeeze even tighter. She forced herself to breathe before trying to open them.

The second he heard her move Azriel was the side of the bed. His wings blocked out the light and her eyes fluttered open. “How long?”

“Why would you do that?” Azriel was suddenly unable to keep the composure he’d been holding in for the past day and a half. “How could you do that? I had no idea what was happening. Your wings—”

“Are fine now.” She sat up and extended them to show the colors back and vibrant as usual, “Now, how long was I out?”

Azriels lips formed a tight line, he forced himself to speak as calmly as he could through clenched teeth, “….About 36 hours.”

“Objectively… that isn’t too bad. I’ve had worse.” She stretched and yawned, still coming to terms about her location, “How’s Emerie?”

“How are you?? How did you do that? Why did you—”

“Fall?” Azriel nodded, “I can heal almost anything but depending on the severity of something it takes a bit of energy out of me. A broken bone…those are usually easily, because every bone is supposed to set in a certain way. But something like a wing, I had to connect the tendon that was snipped. It’s still there just severely damaged. Almost recreating it, then it requires more of me. I had to figure out a lot of things when that fire broke out… but I don’t know everything so a lot of healing depends on magic and what I want to achieve.”

She shrugged as if putting her life in danger was no big deal to her. “It sounds like it could kill you.”

“I guess it could. I just haven’t had to use it in awhile.” Azriels eyes seemed to shine with a fury, she couldn’t quite understand. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Can you heal yourself?” At this point everything was now an interrogation. He would not risk her risking her life again. A protectiveness he had never felt before took over his entire being. He had been crouched next to the bed staring slightly up at Callista as she sat up and answered every question. For a brief moment, he wondered if was pushing her, possibly hindering any healing she was supposed to undergo. His worry won over any possible hesitation. Callista placed her hand on his face ever so gently. Her scars like the roots of an old tree spread down her arms

“I’m fine. Truly.” She looks at the scars trailing down her arm and grimaces at the sight of them. She tries to pull her hand back but fails. Azriel’s hand holds hers in place, she’s been trying to avoid it, but she cant ignore the fury in his eyes.

“You will not do that again.”

…

“I’m serious Callista. That kind of ability could put you in serious danger. Promise me you wont do it again.”

So he wasn’t angry at her. He did have a point. She was being careless. She didn’t know these people, if one of them were put in a difficult situation its hard to say what information they would divulge. Worse, what if they didn’t break? How far would these people go? Would they put their lives on the line to protect a secret that had no need to be shared? Stupid. Her eyes stung as she thought about the danger she put everyone in. She could only nod at Azriel’s request. Shame coursed through her veins.

Azriel softened, he gently brought her hand down to her lap and clasped his other hand around it, “I’m sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry? It was wrong of me to do something like that without even asking. You’re right. I was being selfish. My people, you all…if something happened to you—”

“Me?” Azriel was shocked. He’d been certain he had frightened her by yelling. He had been worried but it was no excuse. Not after what she had done for Emerie. After what she may have risked just coming back with him. He sat next to her, still worried about possibly pushing her away. He wondered if he would ever get over that, still he was intrigued. Why would she be worried about him?

“Couldn’t you get into trouble? For hiding what I can do?”

“I suppose. Being able to avoid detection helps.”

“And your friends?” This got his attention, was she worried they would break? “if they got into trouble I would never forgive myself. And I doubt you would either…”

“You think I would blame you if something happen—”

“I think you would try not to. But emotions are not logical. I don’t suppose your high lord could erase memories.” She laughs regardless of how much she wishes it were so easy.

“He can actually. But none of us would accept that.” Azriel shrugs

“It could keep you safe.”

“…No.”

“No?”

“My dear, our court is hardly in anyone’s good graces. Your abilities wouldn’t be the first thing they would think to torture out of us.” He could immediately see the effect his words had on him. All he was doing was confirming her worst fears. “We’ll be fine, Callista.”

She turned to face him, trying to read his usual unreadable face, hopeful she would be able to tell if he was telling the truth. When she had first met him his face, his body both mentally and physically seemed pained. She now knew what had been on his mind when he pushed his body past exhaustion, but since that first day he’s seemed wary to give any emotion away on his face. Up until now, she had assumed he could care less one way or another about helping her out. Maybe coming back only to prove to himself he could do it, to do something no one had done before. But he seemed genuinely concerned, worried about her own safety over his own.

She could only nod, “How is she?”

“Emerie? She’s terrified. Thinks it’s a spell that will wear off, so she been waiting for you to get better. Make sure she doesn’t get her hopes up. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Everyone was waiting for them in the sitting room. Waiting to ask questions. “Please, sit.” Nesta gestured to a spot next to her, “How are you feeling?”

“Still regaining my energy, it seems. But fine. What would you like to know? Or should I start?”

“Please, go ahead. Better we don’t bombard you with endless questions.” Nesta continued

“I’ve been dealing with this kind of magic for a while. It’s permanent. It always takes some amount of energy but the bigger the issue the more it takes. I cannot heal something from nothing, so if you were to get your wings cut off I wouldn’t be able to make them grow back. Did I miss anything?” She ignores Emerie taking a deep breath

Cassian glances at Azriel who just shrugs. Emerie’s eyes begin to water. Gwyn rubs her back, “We told you.”

“Thank you…” She says through broken sobs.

“Actually, I apologize. I shouldn’t have made an assumption, even then I could have warned you. But I am glad it worked o—” Emery tackled her in a hug and kissed her cheek. Azriel stiffened and forced himself to remember Emerie was not a threat.

“Thank you.” She runs back to grab Nesta and Gwyn. They embrace her and Nesta squeezes Callistas shoulder before running off with her two sisters. All overjoyed to see Emery regain something they all knew had broken something deep inside her long ago. As far as Nesta was concerned, she was indebted to the newcomer.

“Take care of her Az!” Nesta waves as the girls run out the door. Azriel still stunned and conflicted at Emerie’s affection. Cassian tried to stifle the laugh building in his chest.

“Where are you planning on starting?” He asked his friend

“Maybe Dawn, or Summer Court?” Azriel offered

“I want to see where you’re from.” Callista hurried to explain herself as both men froze, “This training camp—it would be interesting to learn a new skill.”

“No.” Azriel couldn’t even begin to fathom her stepping foot there. Too dangerous. He was sure his kind would immediately flock to her. Try and get away with doing some of the worst things imaginable.

“Did you not say my people were unprepared for a fight? I should learn some techniques to take back.”

“Cassian could train you here. Emerie or Nesta could train you here. That camp is the worst part of Prythian.” The things they would do to you…he thought to himself. Callista shrugged in acceptance.

“End with Dawn.” Cassian interjected, “Get spring and fall out of the way. Don’t stick around too long.”

“You both worry too much. But I do want to thank you again for offering up your home.”

“We’ve heard you did the same.” Cassian smiled at Callista then turned serious, “You’re going to need to speak to Rhys soon enough. He is going to want to know how far your gift extends.”

A warning, Callista decided. She could feel Azriels eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. She decides to leave before starting another fracture between his friends, regardless of her opinion of them, they were still all Azriel knew. She nodded at Cassian, fluttering her wings just enough to reach his height and deliver a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you. I’m sure we will return by the days end.”

She ran back the second her feet touched the ground. Grabbing Azriels hand and squeezing it to let him know she was good to go. It only seemed to break his train of thought but he couldn’t help but smile as she beamed at him, he slightly nodded, “Ready?”

➽───────────────❥

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand again. Her skin grew cold as the shadows enveloped her again. She wished she could see how it worked, but she trusted Azriel and didn’t dare break any trust in her. Before she could open her eyes again, she was overwhelmed with the floral perfumes surrounding her. She opened her eyes before Azriel needed to alert her that it was safe. Azriel had chosen a place most likely to be safe but they would not be able to stay here for long, relations with Tamlin and even the spring court were as tense as ever. He didn’t need to give Rhys another reason to worry further.

“What do you think?”

“Its beautiful…If I had your gift I would never stop looking for somewhere new to explore. Is that how you found this place?” She looked back at him, ready to inquire about this clearly secluded area. Flowers she could only imagine and dream of surrounded her, climbing up the trees. Whatever small lake the had arrived at seem clear and bottomless as it glimmered with some kind of magic. Any questions she had would have to wait, she looked at Azriel’s all too serious face. His posture was too similar to the way he seemed at dinner the first day she’d arrived. “Azriel?”

“What? Nothing. Everythings fine.”

“Well that’s good, but it isn’t what I asked.”

“I’m sorry. I must have been distracted. What?”

“I take it we cant stay here long?”

“Unfortunately, not. We aren’t exactly amicable with the spring court.”

“Why not?”

Azriel hesitates. Its not really his story to tell, besides it could get her in trouble if she meets the wrong people. Before he can say anything everything goes silent and his head snaps towards the direction he knows his friend will winnow from. He gets in front of Callista throwing her behind him. Rhys walks out unconcerned.

“Really?”

“What are you doing here?” Azriel spat out

“Besides the fact you shouldn’t risk being in here, I came to speak to your…friend.” He faces her with an expression made of stone, “I found what you came here for.”

Before Azriel could decode what he was talking about Callista stepped out from behind him, “You really must want me gone. Very well. Show me.”

“I assume I’ll see you back in the Night court then? Unless of course, you’d rather come with me?” He smirked, Azriel had never been so ready to fight someone he’d once considered one of his only friends. He felt his arm lift as Callista linked her arms with his.

“No. I’ll pass, thank you.”

Rhysand nods and disappears. Azriel tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. Why hadn’t he helped him before, those were months wasted when he could have been with…or rather could have helped Callista. He knew it was selfish, but he wasn’t ready for her to go. Since his time under the mountain Azriel knew the things Rhysand went through and was forced to comply with were unimaginable. So much so that any shift in his plans drove him crazy. Even more so now that Nyx was around. Everything had to go according to plan, if it didn’t it brought out a side he wasn’t sure he liked. No matter how much he empathized.

“You shouldn’t hold so much resentment for him. As poor as his judgement towards me may be, its clear he cares about you. He is trying to keep those he holds dear close.”

“So its alright he treats you this way?” Azriel shakes his head, “No. He should trust my judgement. I’ve never failed him, theres no reason—” Azriel is silenced by the feeling of her lips, ever light as a feather, graze his cheeks.

“I suppose you’ll have to show me around some other time. Come. We shouldn’t keep your brother waiting,”

Azriel blinks as he tries to regain his train of thought. He ends up only nodding and squeezing her hand tight and she smiles before closing her eyes.

➽───────────────❥

Azriel tries to not be instantly agitated at the sight of Rhysand sitting with his arms behind his head. As if there was nothing amiss. As if he couldn’t have given you this information months ago. He gestures to a book that looked as if it would crumble if it wasn’t handled properly. Callista warily approaches the ancient script. Azriel finally seems to notice that his hand was still intertwined with hers when she finally lets go to more carefully examine what Rhysand has offered her. He hates that he’s so bothered by the ease of which she let go. Has he always been so possessive over his friends? No, never like this. Never like her. She had ingrained herself into him, became a part of him he was terrified would disappear. That was the problem. It was difeerent this time. He could accept that he wasn’t enough for the other, hell he certainly would never be enough for her, but he couldn’t let her go. Not now. A small rational part of his brain told him to go slow. Be wary. He had only known her for a matter of days. Was that all it took to get him to not look back? Had he only latched onto her because he was desperate to have someone? Had he simply fallen for someone no one had any agency over? Was he willing to leave the people he had known his entire life for her? What if she rejected him as well? What would he do then?

Azriel cant make sense of the markings on the page but Callista studies every one intently. As he begins to worry she turns to face him, feeling a kind of shift with shadows that encircle him. The two make eye contact only for a second before Azriel looks away, pain etched deep withing his eyes. Rhysand shifts in his seat and Azriel straightens up, he tells himself to get himself together. Whats one more rejection anyway?

“Find what you’re looking for?” Rhysand asks

“I—I don’t know.”

“Only one way to find out.” He shrugs

“I suppose you’re right… Azriel?” He can only dread whats coming, “You’ll have to forgive me. You’ll have to show me around another time.”

“Whenever you wish.” He smiles and bows his head, “Shall we head back?”

“I will be taking her Az. You’ve done enough traveling?”

“Really?” Callista interjects before Azriel can protest, “I’m surprised you’d be willing to leave your family for so long. And unprotected as well. I’m honored. Do you know where you’re going? Wouldn’t want you to be unable to make it back if the spell doesn’t work.”

“I—”

“Don’t be ridiculous Callista, Azriel can take you. Cant he Rhys?” Feyre steps in and sits on the high lord’s lap who can only take a deep breath and relent. He waves Azriel off, and he nods his head for Callista to follow. He wanted to talk to her before they left. She followed him all the way back to the house of wind.

“So…those markings…they’ll help?”

“Ancient runes, I’ve studied some from the books back home.”

“You remember everything?”

She pulls out her left hand, markings decorating her arm in gold. “If I can figure out how to pronounce everything correctly, I should be able to make it work. Hopefully, Tommin and the rest of the elders aren’t too mad to where they wont help.”

“I think with enough support they’ll whether they want things to change or not.”

“hm. Are you alright?”

“Why would I not be?” Azriel asked

“Well, you didn’t exactly need to bring me all the way here to have that conversation. What is it?”

“I—”

“Azriel?” She places her hand on his shoulder and every worry threatens to spill out

“What happens if this works?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you explore what you can, with them? Or would you…”

“Come back?”

Azriel finally looks at her eyes, “Could you?”

“Would you want me to?” She smiles, Azriel shakes his head chuckling. What was happening? He had never had any issues with anyone. Not at Rita’s, not anywhere, even with Mor as painful as it was he had no difficulty flirting back. But here he was, tongue tied for seemingly the millionth time.

“I—” Azriel looks up and runs his hand through his hair sighing at how complicated this was all getting, “Of course I would.”

“Hmm. And would you want to come back here?” Because frankly you seem miserable, she though to herself. “Are you happy here?”

“I have a duty here.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question…” She tilts her head as she considers his words for a moment more, “Well, I suppose it does actually.”

His name on her lips unsettled him. No one called him by his full name around here. And she said with so much…kindness. Wait, he froze, what exactly did she he was letting her down. Did she mean when she said she understood, he himself didn’t understand what he wanted yet. What he wanted…

“Azriel…” He flinches at her touch, her fingers delicately trace her eyebrows, her hand gently rests on his face, “You really ought to stop worrying so much. If you want to talk you know I’m here. You are free to speak and ask whatever it is that’s worrying you.”

“Stay with me.” He finally says, grasping her hand and finally staring her in the eyes. Afraid to hear her answer but needing to get everything out, “I dont care where you want to go, but stay with me. I know you don’t know me. Not really but—”

Both hands now cup his face as she looks up. Her wings flutter ever so slightly and he feels her lips press against him once more, but the intention feels different. She purposely kisses him in the corner of his mouth, letting him decide whether or not he’d rather push it any further. She lingered for a few seconds, and then whispered, “You still owe me a tour if I remember correctly.”

She floats down, “I don’t plan on traveling alone anytime soon, what fun would that be?”

Azriel looks down at her smirk, her almost all knowing smirk. If she had any idea how he was entirely at her command. He would travel the ends of the universe for the smallest request. He was completely wrapped around her finger. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He needed her. Her company, her presence, her light. A balance to the darkness he seemed to carry around him constantly. She never pushed, and yet he felt like she was the only one that would understand. He grabs her face and kisses her as deeply as he can and hopes he can convey even a fraction of what he’s feeling. Its only when they both need to breath that they step back.

Azriel clears his throat, “Lets get going then, there so much I want you to see. And I can’t wait to get started.”

➽───────────────❥

She nods and grabs his hand. She closes her eyes and waits for the chill to pass. Every trip was exhilarating, literally breathtaking. She would never not be amazed by this ability, amazed and saddened. Calista wondered if he ever thought back to the times he had been scared of the darkness before it embraced, or if it ever still brought him a wave of sadness as he remembered exactly what brought this gift.

“This is wrong.” Azriels words force her eyes open

Callista immediately sees what he is referring to. The trees once green and lush looked dull. As if the life was being sucked out of them. And it was silent. Eerily silent. Callista felt her stomach harden.

“Where—”

Azriel shook his head, he is only whispering to himself but Callista wont accept what comes out of his mouth, “There’s only one?”

Callista refuses to believe it, she releases his hand and begins flitting to and from several different houses. She calls out names getting increasingly more panicked. Her home she once knew like the back of her hand seemed foreign to her now. Azriel could feel the pain in her voice but he was frozen, he caused this, he was sure of it. He should have never returned. No, that isn’t right, maybe he should have waited to hear the Elder’s concerns, pressed for more information. Likewise, Callista knew her absence had something to do with this.

“Azriel!!” She looked to him pleading, he seemed terrified, still he knew exactly what she was asking for, he point in a direction. This person would surely have some answers. Deeper in the woods, closer to the forest floor. Callista dashed off and Azriel snapped out of it enough to follow her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the elder who had protested when Azriel had first returned appeared. But Azriel noticed his aging immediately, Callista was so excited to see anyone she rushed and hugged him. The old man did not return the gesture. “Tommin.”

“So. You finally decided to come back.” He grunts and steps back. Callista seems taken aback by his attitude and finally realizing how different he appeared.

“How long?”

“Several hundred years if I am counting correctly.”

“What? That’s impossible, every other time was maybe a few years at most.”

“Because we had so many returning visitors before that young man. Anyhow, I’m sure you have questions. We don’t have much time.”

Callista shakes her head, refusing to accept what was plain to see. Azriel can only hope its one of two options, “But where is everyone?”

The old man, chuckles. As if he’s been waiting to deliver what hes about to say for years. As if it would make all of it okay…

“Oh child, they’re all long gone.”

➽───────────────❥

Taglist: @bubybubsters @mich0731 @azziessidehoe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nightless @thelov3lybookworm @kemillyfreitas

#azriel acotar imagine #acotar azriel #acotar azriel imagine #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x original character #azriel x female!reader

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mcuamerica · 3 months

Text

Welcome Home | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Cassian x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After seeing how fun you have with Cassian, Azriel decides to test out a form of punishment... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, mean/possessive Azriel (because of a potion), scared by mate (?), alludes to SA, (I honestly don't know what to warn here, read the original request for context), not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

While Azriel was on a mission, you decided to spend time with your best friend and the other deadly warrior of the Inner Circle, Cassian.

You were having a fun time with him, running around with some odd game he had created. Cassian, seemingly, kept changing the rules. You popped up behind a shrub of the garden, jumping on his back. "Mr. Illyrian Warrior, sir, you cannot keep changing the rules to make yourself win." You giggled.

"Foul! No jumping on the backs of winged faeries!" He called out, trying to shake you off. You giggled even more, dropping down onto the floor.

"Cass, seriously," you scorned, crossing your arms. "Tell me the actual rules of the game so we can properly play!"

You felt like a child pouting next to her older brother, but sometimes it was all you needed to let go a little bit. Forget the wars and politics that plagued the Inner Circle of the Night Court for just half an hour and play a stupid game, which involved you chasing Cassian around the garden. To what end? He still hadn't told you.

Cassian was the first one you met from the IC. He found you in the outskirts of Velaris, shivering at the end of a very small stream. In the middle of winter. You had been thrown out of your home by your father. You were trying to make it to Velaris when you encountered an incredibly vicious male who only wanted one thing from you.

Luckily, you fought him off and ran away, but not without falling down a rocky hill and cracking your ribs. That was when Cassian found you, patrolling the forest for a few run away soldiers. You were scared by him at first, not letting him anywhere near you.

But when he lowered and tucked in his wings, crouched down to be even lower than you, you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. The kindness in his eyes spoke enough.

So you let him take you in his arms and fly you into the city, settling with Madja to take care of you. For a week he sat by your side, wanting nothing other than to make sure you were okay, after he found the male that had hurt you... and sent Rhys to deal with your family.

After that, you showed your knowledge of spell cleaving, your mother a strong female from the Day Court, and became a quick member of the Inner Circle. After years of working and getting to know each member, you quickly fell in love and mated with Azriel. Your official acceptance of the bond was just about a year ago, meaning you were still learning a lot of new and exciting ways to make your lives even richer in love.

"Cassian!" You yelled as he picked you up and set you on top of a bench, peering down at him.

"You stay there for five seconds, eyes closed, and you have to catch me somewhere in the garden." He said.

"And what do I win if I do?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Extra dessert?" He teased and you narrowed your eyes.

"Deal." You said, closing your eyes and counting to five.

You opened your eyes and instead found your mate, peering up at you. With a look of lust and desire on his face, but something else tugged at the bond. Was that jealousy? You couldn't tell nor did you have time to decipher it because the next thing you knew, Azriel was carrying you up to your bedroom. He didn't even take the stairs, instead winnowing up to the room. Before you were even orientated, he was setting you on the bed and immediately pinning you down.

You quickly became overwhelmed by not only the change of scenery so quickly, but the scent that leaked from your mate. And the anger in his eyes. Did you do something wrong?

You let out a squeak when Azriel trailed his hand up your loose fitting shirt, grabbing hold before tearing it in half. "Azriel! What are you doing?" You managed to say, trying to scoot back from his grasp, your breath quickening. Azriel must have been so devoured by lust, or whatever it was, that he didn't hear you. Or.. didn't care?

"You are mine, understand? No one else's." He growled. Not a sensual one that drove you crazy most of a time, but more crazed. More desperate. "And I'm going to show you exactly how much you belong to me."

Your past, with the cruel male in the forest, flashed through your mind. You begged down the bond for him to stop. You shook your head again, eyes widened when he leaned back.

You took the opportunity and scrambled away, almost tripping over your feet as you ran from the bedroom. You ran down the stairs, hearing Azriel call your name. You whimpered, looking back to see him slowly stalking towards you. You made your way back to the garden, only to run into a hard wall. No, not a hard wall, Cassian.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your missing shirt, the silver lining your eyes, and your quick breathing.

"He- I don't know. Cass please make him stop." You said and wrapped your arms around his waist. He quickly looked up, noticing the stalking male now seething at the sight of his mate and his brother embracing.

Cassian soothed you, pulling you behind him. "Azriel... you need to stop." He said firmly, going into the protective warrior mode. Why was Azriel acting like this?

"Get away from my mate." He growled. There it was again. That crazed tone.

Then it his him. Cassian smelled the potion on him as he closed the gap between them, meaning to knock Cassian to the ground. "Azriel, this isn't you." He said, gripping his shoulders. Azriel's eyes darkened, moving to hit Cassian again. Cassian was faster, knocking him unconscious with a quick knock to the head. He stood for a moment, making sure that Azriel was indeed not waking up before he called for Rhys to get Madja here as soon as possible. Then he turned to you.

You were still shaking, arms wrapped around yourself as you cowered against the wall. You were never like this anymore. You were strong and independent and didn't need help from any of the warriors you called your family. Not after you learned to defend yourself.

But everyone was so overwhelming, you forgot all that training. You felt like the fragile female on that river bank again.

Cassian slowly approached you, again tucking in his eyes and bowing below your eye level. "Hey," his voice was barely above a whisper, "can I take you to your room?" He asked and you quickly shook your head, not wanting to go where Azriel had taken you. "My room?" He offered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around Cassian's neck as he picked you up carefully and took you to his room. He made sure you settled down, bringing you tea and your favorite comfort snack. Once you had eaten and stopped shaking, he lulled you to sleep with some very off key humming. Nothing like Azriel normally did when nightmares awoke you. Either way, by night fall, you were tucked into what was Cassian and Nesta's bed, sound asleep. No stutter of breath or shift in movement.

Cassian walked out of the room and crossed his arms when he found Madja and Azriel in the living room.

"I didn't even know it until I drank it... it smelled normal." Azriel finished saying, his eyes clear.

Cassian stalked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What in the Cauldron did you do to her?" He growled.

"Cassian! Get off of him." Madja said and swatted at his arm. Cassian quickly let go of his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed. "He had a jealousy potion in his system. One that, from the sounds of it, makes mates even more possessive of their partners. And will drive them to the brink of madness if anyone even looks at their mate."

"He hurt her." Cassian seethed.

Azriel's eyes flashed with hurt. He looked like he had been through hell. Good, Cassian thought, let him rot there a little longer.

"Cass, you know I would never hurt her intentionally." He said, frowning.

"You better talk to her in the morning.. but leave her alone tonight." Cassian demanded, not even wanting to talk with his brother right now. Rhys, who had been standing in the corner this whole time, decided not to chip in. While he was close to you, he wasn't nearly as must of a friend to you as Cassian was. He knew Cass would defend you no matter what, he saw you as a little sister. And if Cassian deemed that you needed space from Azriel, your mate, right now, he was probably right.

"I will..."

You were groggy when you woke up the next morning, not recognizing the scent of your mate or the feeling of the sheets. The events from the past day came back to you and you frowned.

It was then that you realized Azriel sat next to the bed, sleeping in a chair tucked in the corner.

You tentatively sat up, knowing there had to be an explanation of what he did. He had never acted like that with you before. Even when you were trying new things in the bedroom, he was always slow and considerate.

"Azriel..." You whispered, your timid voice betraying the courage you worked up in your mind. You reached for the glass of water next to the bed, slowly drinking as Azriel shot up in the chair.

"(Y/N)... sweetheart, I am so sorry." He said, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed. You pulled back from his touch, tucking in the glass of water against your chest. "It's not an excuse, but I was under the influence of a potion. If I had known the effects, I would have gone as far away from you as possible. But it didn't kick in until I saw you with Cassian and I was so jealous of the two of you all of the sudden and-"

"Az. You're ranting." You said, a small smile coming to your lips. As soon as he mentioned the potion, you remembered the strange smell that coated his scent. It wasn't like anything you had scented on him before, and you were glad it was just a potion and you wouldn't again.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, eyes pleading you to understand him. You slowly set the glass down on the nightstand, resting your hand over one of his.

"Promise you will never do that again?" You asked quietly.

He let out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. "Yes, I swear on my life I will never do what I did to you yesterday. Never again." He said and shook his head.

You brought your other hand up to cup his cheek. "Well then..." you trailed off, leaning forward. "Welcome home." You sealed the statement with a soft, sweet kiss.

A/N: Okay, hope you enjoyed! I had a hard time thinking of any reason that Azriel would intentionally harm/force himself on his mate, so hopefully this makes sense!

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emilystheories · 9 months

Text

The Bryce and Azriel theory.

Matching weapons, ancient prophecies, dusk, and true equals.

Before you scroll away or block (which I totally understand if you do anyway - you are entitled to curate your own experience on here!), please note that I am not trying to convert anyone to this ship. I am fully aware that most people in the fandom are in favour of Gwynriel, Elriel, Elucien, and/or Quinlar, and I 100% respect those preferences.

I am also not saying this is canon, or will be canon - it's a theory. However, I very rarely (if ever) see people correctly talk about the actual evidence for the Bryce x Az pairing, especially when they're mocking it as nothing more than a 'crackship.' Given the sheer size of this post (and the fact that it took me weeks to put together), it's no surprise that I disagree with such a sentiment.

Feel free to form your own opinion on the matter; I only ask that you keep an open mind. And if that's not possible, then at the very least, I hope this is still an entertaining read, as it breaks down a sizeable chunk of the SJM multiverse.

(So, evidently: SJM universe spoilers ahead).

[art by Gabrielle Ragusi].

To begin: Bryce's connections to dusk.

Throughout both Crescent City books, Bryce is repeatedly connected to dusk. For example:

Bryce's scent is of dusk.

One of the first things Hunt notices about Bryce is that her scent is of the "first stars at nightfall." Nightfall is another word for dusk. This is important, as SJM often uses scent to foreshadow a character's true home (e.g. Rowan's scent being of Terrasen).

"She's here," Hunt said. The scent of her still lingering on the sidewalk, lilac and nutmeg and something he couldn't quite place - like the gleam of the first stars at nightfall."

Bryce is repeatedly associated with dusk imagery.

For example, Bryce often has her nails painted in "twilight" colours (again, another word for dusk), and even her damn nipples are described as being "dusk rose."

"She examined her nails, now painted in some sort of color gradient that went from pink to periwinkle tips. Like the sky at twilight."

Bryce is obsessed with pegasuses and unicorns (which originated from the Dusk Court).

Bryce has been obsessed with pegasus dolls (i.e. Jelly Jubilee!) since book 1; they are iconic to her character. In fact, there is a unicorn-pegasus hidden on the cover of every Crescent City book (see image below).

It's then no coincidence that the pegasuses in Prythian came from the Prison Island... the Dusk Court.

"According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon—"

"Dusk's Truth"

The entirety of Crescent City 2 centred around "Dusk's Truth," which was confirmed to be about the Dusk Court. This logically implies that dusk (and the Dusk Court) is a pivotal aspect of Bryce's storyline.

This is also why I believe that Bryce's entrance into Prythian isn't just a fun cameo, nor a brief, temporary visit (as many seem to believe) -- instead, all roads point to dusk.

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae … A land of Dusk." “Dusk’s Truth,” Bryce breathed. It wasn’t just the name of this room that Danika had been talking about with Sofie."

Bryce is also connected to Prythian.

As much as people try to deny this (for reasons I still don't understand), Bryce is strongly connected to the ACOTAR world, and this has been heavily foreshadowed all along. For example:

Bryce is the true owner of Gwydion; the High King of Prythian's sword.

Crescent City 2 makes clear that Bryce is the true owner of the Starsword (or Gwydion, as it is known in the ACOTAR world).

"He snarled. "The sword belongs to Theia's female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line."

But, this isn't just any sword - it's the sword of the first and only High King of Prythian.

In ACOSF, Amren states that Rhys could use Nesta's "made" swords to set himself up as High King. So, what does that mean for Bryce, who owns the real deal?

“But you, Rhysand, are not.” Amren nodded to the still-rotating weapons. “With these three blades, you could make yourself High King.”

Bryce literally glows for Prythian.

Bryce possesses a star on her chest that is a "beacon" to Prythian; its purpose is to guide people home to the ACOTAR world.

As such, Bryce literally glows and lights up for Prythian. Not Midgard. Prythian.

"The star on your chest - do you know what that is?" "Let's assume I know nothing," Bryce said grimly. Rigelus inclined his head. "It's a beacon to the world from which the Fae originally came."

Bryce possesses the exact starlight of Theia; the rightful queen of the Starborn fae in Prythian.

The star inside of Bryce's chest is that of Queen Theia's. Bryce's starlight is Theia's starlight. It's even suggested that Bryce possesses the same powers that Theia once did (though, she hasn't yet accessed said powers). It's for this reason that many believe that Bryce is the reincarnation of Queen Theia.

“I thought Theia’s light was forever extinguished.” “So did I. I thought they’d made sure she and her power died on that last battlefield under Prince Pelias’s blade.” His eyes glowed with ancient rage. “But Bryce Quinlan bears her light.”

But Theia wasn't just any old queen. Instead, she was the queen of the Starborn fae in Prythian (with it being hinted that she once ruled the Dusk Court).

As such, I find it hard to believe that the land (and the Cauldron) won't recognise this; that Theia (Bryce) has come home at last.

“I remember the last Starborn Queen, Theia, and her powers.” He seemed to shudder."

[art by AnaSebag].

Putting two and two together; Bryce is likely the future High Lady of the Dusk Court.

At the end of CC2, Rigelus confirmed that Bryce's bloodline - the Starborn fae - not only originated from Prythian, but specifically lived in a "land of dusk."

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae... A land of Dusk."

Putting all the clues together across both the ACOTAR and CC books, this is likely in reference to the Dusk Court. ACOTAR readers will know this as the Prison Island (which was suggested to be the "eighth court").

"Rhys told me once that this island might have even been an eighth court.”

In linking with this, when Nesta visits the Prison Island (Dusk Court) in ACOSF, she senses that "something great" had once existed here, but seemingly vanished. However, she then states that the land "still waited for it to return." Many agree that this is in reference to Bryce and the Starborn fae.

"The very land seemed abandoned. Like something great had once existed here and then vanished. Like the land still waited for it to return."

However, now that Bryce has indeed returned to the Dusk Court (or is about to in CC3); I believe that her presence will awaken the Dusk Court once more, and what was vanished, will return.

As foreshadowing of this, recall this scene in CC1:

"The gentle illumination danced on Bryce’s hair as she ambled down the stone path, night-blooming flowers opening around her. Jasmine lay heavy in the twilight air, sweet and beckoning." "Bryce didn’t flinch as he dropped into step beside her. “I wanted some fresh air.” She admired an unfurling fern, its fronds lit from within to illuminate every vein." "She continued past beds of night crocuses, their purple petals shimmering amid the vibrant moss. The garden seemed to awaken for her, welcome her."

Bryce is walking through a garden. As she continues walking, flowers open around her, and ferns unfurl in her presence. Hunt remarks that it's as if the garden "seemed to awaken" for Bryce.

And the kicker is; as this was happening, Bryce was walking though the "twilight air." This scene occurred during dusk.

Let's also not forget that the star on Bryce's chest is that of an eight-pointed star; the symbol of the Starborn fae (the same symbol engraved on the Prison Island floor, as shown in ACOSF). As a comparison, that's like Rhys having the Night Court insignia branded on his chest... it's rather overt foreshadowing.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s new.” Indeed, just visible down the V-neck of her T-shirt, a white splotch—an eight-pointed star—now scarred the place between her breasts."

Combined with the fact that Bryce is the heir to the Starborn fae, that she possesses Queen Theia's starlight, that she glows for Prythian, and that even her scent is of dusk... there's no one better suited (and heavily foreshadowed) to rule the Dusk Court, than Bryce Quinlan.

"Homecoming."

As we know, Bryce has now just arrived in the true home world of her people: Prythian.

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae... A land of Dusk."

The instance of returning back home is known as a "homecoming."

"Homecoming" [noun]: an instance of returning home. (e.g. "she spent most of the day preparing for her husband's homecoming.")

And, that's exactly what SJM (curiously) labelled this image on her Pinterest board for Bryce.

Many believe this image to look like Bryce and Azriel (especially when SJM could have labelled it "Bryce and Hunt," which she happily did for the other photos on her CC Pinterest board...), and thus, the Bryce x Azriel theory begins.

The knife and the sword.

In the first Crescent City book, we are told of an ancient fae prophecy; "when knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be."

"It's another of the Fae's countless inane prophecies," Bryce muttered. "When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be." "It's literally carved above the Fae Archives entrance - whatever the fuck it means," Ruhn said."

We now know that this prophecy is referring to Azriel's knife (Truth-Teller) and Bryce's sword (the Starsword). Keep in mind that SJM could have connected this prophecy to any number of characters, but she specifically chose Bryce and Azriel.

Additionally, we are also told that the knife and sword need to stay together in order to activate their full powers. Given the importance of these weapons in defeating the Asteri/Daglan, this suggests that Bryce and Azriel will also need to stay together in some capacity.

"Ruhn shook his head. "The sword doesn't work like that. Aside from being picky about who draws it, the sword has no power without the knife."

[art by itswibell_art]

Azriel as Starborn.

The Starsword (Gwydion) is a Starborn weapon, as only those with enough Starborn blood can wield it.

"Ruhn shook his head. "The sword doesn't work like that. Aside from being picky about who draws it, the sword has no power without the knife."

Given that Truth-Teller is the twin to the Starsword, this suggests that the knife is also a Starborn weapon. And, the fact that Azriel can wield it, implies that he too is Starborn (or at least connected in some capacity).

This is further substantiated in CC2, in which we learn that the Starborn fae aren't just those with starlight powers, but shadow powers too. This was confirmed by Cormac, who stated that the ability to wield shadows (and teleport through them) was once a gift of the Starborn fae.

"But Hunt didn't so much as sniff as he asked Cormac, "Where did you inherit the ability from?" Cormac squared his shoulders, ever inch the proud prince as he said, "It was once a gift of the Starborn. It was the reason I became so... focused on attaining the Starsword."

In fact, Cormac believed that because he could teleport using his shadows, this was an indication that the Starborn bloodline had resurfaced in him. However, this wasn't true; he had "some Starborn blood," but not enough to be "worthy of the blade."

"I thought my ability to teleport meant that the bloodline had resurfaced in me, as I've never met anyone else who can do it." His eyes guttered as he added, "As you know, I was wrong. Some Starborn blood, apparently, but not enough to be worthy of the blade."

But, do you know who can also use their shadows to teleport...? Azriel.

And, do you know who else has been "deemed worthy" and can wield a "Starborn blade" (i.e. Truth-Teller)? Azriel.

[art by cludi_a_]

Bryce + Azriel = Dusk Court.

The crux of this theory is that with their matching weapons and connections to the Starborn narrative, Bryce and Azriel represent the two halves of the Dusk Court.

This is because dusk is the crossover between the light and the dark.

This is further exemplified by SJM's own definition of dusk, as seen in Throne of Glass:

"Nightfall. That was when Maeve had told Erawan to meet. That liminal space between light and dark, when one force yielded to another."

As such, Bryce is light, and Azriel is dark. This is evidenced by their powers:

Bryce's power is pure starlight.

Azriel's power is pure shadows (in comparison to other characters, who have shadow powers + something else).

Further, and perhaps most importantly; Bryce and Azriel's weapons also symbolise this same dusk imagery:

Bryce's sword (the Starsword), glows with a GLITTERING, WHITE LIGHT (as if symbolising starlight).

Azriel's knife (Truth-Teller), glows with a DARK LIGHT (as if symbolising shadows).

"It was its twin. The Starsword began to hum within its sheath, glittering white light leaking from where leather met the dark hilt. The dagger - The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light."

Bryce (starlight) + Azriel (shadows) = Dusk.

And I mean, look at that dusk imagery on the CC3 cover (when the previous two covers were just solid red and black...).

(I'll also point out that the sword and knife are featured on this cover, with the knife right over the woman's heart...)

Alpha and Omega.

Further, Bryce's sword and Azriel's knife - together - is described as "Alpha and Omega."

"The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer. Alpha and Omega."

This term means "the beginning and the end."

"Alpha and Omega" [noun]: "the beginning and ending."

Which, is also a term that SJM often uses to describe love, or mated couples. For example, Feyre and Rhys:

"and saw and smelled that bond between us, until our scents merged, and I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and the middle and the end."

And this quote here, from Throne of Glass:

"She would find that love again—one day. And it would be deep and unrelenting and unexpected, the beginning and the end and eternity, the kind that could change history, change the world."

Additionally, when the weapons are finally together at the end of CC2, it's said that Azriel's knife glowed "in answer" to Bryce's sword.

"The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer."

They are matching halves.

Bryce and Azriel as rulers.

Given everything mentioned thus far, I believe that Bryce and Azriel are destined to become the High Lady and High Lord of the Dusk Court.

But, I actually think it goes one step further than this, and it has to do with Bryce's likely rule as High Queen of Prythian. As proof of this:

SJM is drawing from Arthurian mythology, and Bryce is King Arthur.

Throughout both Crescent City books, there are a number of nods to Arthurian mythology. Most obviously is Avallen Island (where Cormac lives), which is likely inspired by the renowned Avalon Island.

In fact, Ruhn retrieving the Starsword from the Avallen caves (and being "deemed worthy" to "pull the sword from its sheath") seemingly parallels King Arthur being deemed worthy of the famous sword, Excalibur, and thus being able to pull the sword from the stone.

"That your son, not you, stood among the long-dead Starborn Princes asleep in their sarcophagi and was deemed worthy to pull the sword from its sheath."

However, as mentioned previously; CC2 makes very clear that the Starsword belongs to Theia's "female heir." The Starsword belongs to Bryce.

As such, I believe that in this series, King Arthur is actually represented by Bryce. And, as further proof of this, consider Rigelus's words at the end of CC2; that Bryce's star glows for those she chooses as her "knights."

"It also glows for those who you choose as your loyal companions. Knights."

Just like King Arthur's own knights; the famed Knights of the Round Table.

King Arthur was the High King of Great Britain. And, Prythian is in the shape of Great Britain.

Putting two and two together, could this suggest that Bryce will become the High Queen of Prythian?

2. Bryce has the High King's sword.

As mentioned previously, Bryce is the true owner of the Starsword (Gwydion). The same sword that the High King of Prythian once wielded long ago. That alone is heavy foreshadowing.

3. Bryce is repeatedly foreshadowed as a queen.

For example, Hunt often notices Bryce's queenly demeanour:

"She spoke with the imperiousness of a queen. Hunt could only rise with her."

And even the contact name for Bryce in Hunt's phone is "Bryce Is a Queen."

Ruhn also implores Bryce to become queen:

"But you have to live, Bryce. You have to be queen."

To which Cormac agrees, stating that the decision to lead their people forward, will be up to Bryce:

"But after today..." Cormac's words grew heavy. Weary. "I think the choice about whether to lead our people forward will be up to you now."

Additionally, SJM often uses the phrase "lifted their chin" when someone is signifying their authority (e.g. "she lifted her chin, every inch the queen"). Then when Bryce meets Feyre and Rhys, the same term is used:

"So Bryce addressed the two of them as she lifted her chin. “My name is Bryce Quinlan.”

And most of all, is Ruhn's final words to Bryce:

"Her brother pulled away. And Ruhn said, shining with pride, “Long live the queen.”

(Speaking of Ruhn, recall his prophecy from the Oracle; that the royal bloodline ends with him. Considering that he is connected to both the Valbaran and Avallen royal houses, this suggests that there won't be any 'queen positions' left for Bryce to take in Midgard. But, there might be in Prythian...)

4. Bryce has Queen Theia's starlight (and likely her same powers).

Again, as mentioned previously, Theia ruled in Prythian (with some even believing that she was High Queen).

If it's bloodline alone that determines who would be High King/Queen (as Amren appears to suggest in ACOSF), then again, as Bryce is the true heir to the Starborn fae, placing her at spot #1.

5. Bryce glows for the ACOTAR world.

The star in Bryce's chest glows for Prythian. She is a beacon for Prythian. That's queen symbolism right there.

6. Bryce is a main character.

It is a well-known fact that all of SJM's leading ladies rise to power; Aelin as Queen of Terrasen, and Feyre as High Lady of the Night Court.

And, although I have heard some solid theories suggesting that Rhys or Lucien may become High King... it's also a well-known fact that SJM loves a female ruler (especially when Prythian is already so overly patriarchal).

Bryce, however, would be perfect.

[art by Gabrielle Ragusi]

7. Lastly, and perhaps the most important of all: Bryce is foreshadowed to unite the worlds.

Notably, the last High King (Fionn) rose to power because he united the people of Prythian.

"A millennium of peace followed, and the lands were divided into rough territories that were the precursors to the courts—but at the end of those thousand years, they were at each other’s throats, on the brink of war.” His face tightened. “Fionn unified them and set himself above them as High King. The first and only High King this land has ever had.”

Bryce is foreshadowed to do the same, as per that same ancient fae prophecy; "when knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be" (and, this is where Azriel comes in).

Although this prophecy can be interpreted in a variety of ways, I believe it to mean that Bryce and Azriel will reunite the Starborn fae, lost across two worlds (Midgard and Prythian). A unification of people... just as Fionn once achieved.

Now, it is theorised that Bryce and Azriel will continue this legacy, as High Queen and High King. In doing so:

Bryce will represent the Midgardian fae, Azriel will represent the Prythian fae.

Bryce will represent starlight, Azriel will represent shadows. Light and dark. Dusk.

Together, Bryce and Azriel are two halves of whole. Alongside their weapons - which are also matching halves - you can't get anymore equal than that.

As mates are supposed to be.

A common rebuttal to this theory, however, is the belief that Azriel "doesn't have what it takes" to become a High Lord or a High King -- that he is inferior to other contenders (such as the likes of Feyre and Rhys).

Yet, I'd argue that the one character who could match up to Feyre and Rhys (and has foreshadowing hinting as such; power-wise)... would be Azriel. For example:

With Feyre (ACOSF):

“Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

With Rhys (ACOFAS):

“And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?” Az didn’t answer. I held his gaze, though. Held that ice-cold stare that still sometimes scared the shit out of me."

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.” I straightened at the pure order in the words."

Az nodded knowingly. He’d always understood me best—more than the others. Save my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I’d never learned.

With Rhys (ACOSF; the bonus chapter):

"Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it."

Similarly, it is also argued that Azriel would "never leave the Night Court." Yet, take it from Azriel himself; that he too is not sure where he truly fits in.

"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore,” I admitted, perhaps only because the wind was screeching around us and Rhys had already winnowed ahead to where Cassian’s dark form flew—beyond the wall. “I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I’m not sure of that, either,” Azriel said."

Combined with Azriel's disdain for the Illyrians and their culture (and the fact that when Az refers to the Illyrians, he will often say "they/them" as opposed to "we/us"...) could it be that something else is in store for Azriel's future?

Especially when we know Azriel has always been so curious about what lies beyond...

"At the far end of the room, a little dais led into a broad raised alcove flanked by more books—and in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it, and some other fancy things that had been explained to Cassian once before he deemed them boring and proceeded to ignore them completely. Az, of course, had been fascinated."

Bryce and Azriel's beast forms.

If Bryce and Azriel are indeed set to become High Lady and High Lord of the Dusk Court, then they will presumably possess beast forms.

To expand on this, in a recent Marie Claire interview (August 2023), SJM stated that her favourite place to write is her desk, where she's surrounded by the things that remind her of the current book she's writing.

SJM: "I like to write at my desk, where I'm surrounded by lots of little items that remind me of either the book I'm writing, or things that just make me happy."

SJM then mentioned that when writing House of Flame and Shadow, she kept a vintage My Little Pony pegasus figure that was the inspiration for Jelly Jubilee.

SJM: "While writing House of Flame and Shadow, for instance, I had a vintage My Little Pony figure with me that was the inspiration for Bryce's beloved Jelly Jubilee!"

Then, when SJM announced the title of Crescent City 3, we were offered a glimpse of her desk, and sure enough - that vintage My Little Pony figure is right there.

But most importantly, this tells us that the items featured in this video aren't just random, but are instead (part of) the inspiration for House of Flame and Shadow.

Which then begs the question; what is the Godzilla toy hinting at? Well, the only connection I have been able to make... is to Azriel.

As proof of this, recall that in ACOMAF, Azriel's Siphon is described as being the "great eye" of a "half-slumbering beast" from a "frozen wasteland."

"I watched the light shift inside the sapphire Siphon instead, as if it were the great eye of some half-slumbering beast from a frozen wasteland."

This description matches Godzilla almost perfectly; who is an ancient monster, often slumbering at the bottom of the ocean, and also often frozen within ice.

And, if Azriel's Siphons are supposed to be reminiscent of the "great eye" of this beast, then it's perhaps no coincidence that Godzilla is famed for his blue, glowing eyes.

Similarly, Godzilla's atomic breath manifests as blue fire (which is what you can see coming out of the mouth of SJM's own Godzilla toy).

Coincidentally (or perhaps not), Azriel - and specifically his Siphons - are repeatedly described as blue flame.

"The shadows deepened around Ariel, his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire."

"Azriel caught his eye. Rhys nodded. The Siphons atop his scarred hands flickered like rippling blue fire as he reached for the Attor."

"Illyrian lines buckled. Azriel sailed closer and closer to them, Siphons trailing tendrils of blue flame in his wake."

In linking with this, I have also theorised that Bryce has a beast form, and that hers will be a unicorn-pegasus (as outlandish as that may sound, it's one of my most well-received theories; link here).

Thus, I believe that the pegasus and Godzilla toys on SJM's desk in the CC3 reveal video, are symbolic of Bryce and Azriel.

Bryce and Azriel meeting for the first time.

When CC2 first came out, people started shipping Bryce and Azriel based on their first interaction alone. Some even noted that Azriel acted in a particularly uncharacteristic manner towards Bryce; he touched her repeatedly, and seemingly showed more emotion (or rather, a lack of composure) than what is usual. For example:

"He hissed, and then a strong hand clamped on her shoulder, hauling her up and twisting her to face him."

"The male’s hands were gentle but thorough as he fitted it tightly over her eyes."

"He set her down, taking her by the hand."

"He caught her, and sighed. She could have sworn he sounded … exasperated. He gave no warning as he hauled her over a shoulder and tromped down a set of stairs."

(It is argued that this is because Bryce is a danger/threat; but if that was true, then why would Azriel take Bryce to the townhouse?)

To me, the last line is the most significant. Azriel is usually calm and collected. He is polite and respectful towards women. Yet within only a couple of minutes, he is already frustrated and "exasperated" with Bryce, and he immediately chucks her over his shoulder.

[art by Paint Faery]

And speaking of parallels to other couples, Azriel and Bryce meeting for the first time seemingly shares many parallels with Feyre and Rhys meeting for this first time:

As well as parallels to Elide and Lorcan meeting for the first time:

And although this is more of a fun tidbit (one I acknowledge is definitely a reach), it's interesting that in ACOSF, we are told that mating ceremonies are commemorated using black ribbons.

"But all that mattered, she realized, was the male who would be standing with her, first as they swore their vows, then as they offered each other food, and then as their friends and family bound their hands together with a length of black ribbon, to remain until the mating was consummated.

Then, this is what Azriel does as soon as he meets Bryce...

[art by witchlingsart]

It's also interesting to note that when SJM was asked about her "favourite part" of HOSAB (in an interview with Entertainment Today), she answered the "penultimate chapter," where "a lot of major things come together for Bryce."

Interviewer: "What is your favorite part of House of Sky and Breath?" SJM: "The penultimate chapter - where a lot of major things come together for Bryce!"

SJM is referring to the very chapter mentioned above; when Bryce meets Azriel and the Inner Circle.

Bryce was "yanked" into Prythian.

Speaking of the penultimate chapter of HOSAB (and the events leading up to it), we know that Bryce originally intended to travel to Hel. However, her journey to the underworld was interrupted, as Bryce was instead "yank[ed]" into Prythian.

"It was the last sound Bryce heard as the darkness within the Gate swallowed her whole. She fell, slowly and without end—and sideways. Not a plunge down, but a yank across."

The definition of "yank," is pull, or tug. And, it is a word frequently used when SJM is describing the mating bond. For example, with Feyre and Rhys:

"No sign of him. No pound of beating wings. But the tug yanked again in my mind, my gut - a summoning. Like some servant's bell."

As such, fans of the Bryce x Az ship often speculate that Bryce was "yanked" into Prythian, right at Azriel's feet, because of their (yet to be discovered) mating bond.

Mor and Azriel = Bryce and Azriel.

It is widely accepted in the fandom that SJM initially intended for Mor and Azriel to be endgame (before changing this in ACOWAR). Not only is this because of the way Mor and Azriel interact in ACOMAF, but SJM's Pinterest board also strongly hinted at their pairing, for example:

With this in mind, consider that whenever Azriel's shadows were around Mor in ACOMAF (when they were likely supposed to be endgame), they lightened and faded in her presence.

"It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor's body."

"Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her presence."

Curiously, in the final chapter of CC2, Bryce doesn't mention Azriel's shadows once (when in comparison, she always noticed Ruhn and Cormac's shadows...). As such, could it be that Azriel's shadows lighten and fade in Bryce's presence?

Consider also these points connecting Mor/Azriel to Bryce/Azriel:

In ACOMAF, it's mentioned that Mor's family once ruled the Prison Island. However, we now know that the Prison Island is most strongly connected to Bryce; the Dusk Court.

In ACOMAF, we learn that Azriel's knife is called "Truth-Teller." Many speculate that this was also evidence of Mor and Azriel being endgame (as his knife was "Truth-Teller," and Mor has the power of "Truth"). However, now Truth-Teller is connected to Bryce and the Starsword.

Additionally, if we know that SJM once believed Mor and Azriel to be compatible, then it's worth noting how similar Mor and Bryce are:

Both Mor and Bryce have very similar personalities. In fact, if you're into MBTI (and are familiar with Personality Database), you'll note that both Mor and Bryce are said have the ESFP personality type.

Both Mor and Bryce are physically described in the exact same way. An example of this is outlined below:

"[Mor] wore a gown of pure white, little more than a slip of silk that showed off her generous curves. Indeed, a glance over her shoulder revealed Azriel staring blatantly at the back view of it, Cassian and the stranger already too deep in conversation to notice what had drawn the spymaster's attention. For a moment, the ravenous hunger on Azriel's face made my stomach tighten."

"Bryce Quinlan leaned against the large ironwood desk in the center of the space, her snow-white dress clinging to every generous curve and dip."

Although these comparisons in itself aren't a slam dunk of any sort (as evidently, Azriel is attracted to lots of different body types/people/personalities), I just can't help but wonder if SJM did a copy + paste with Mor and Bryce for this very reason...?

[art by mftfernandez and wictorian_art]

Speaking of personalities...

Although Bryce and Azriel have only interacted for a single chapter (yet are already causing waves with that alone!), some readers have been contemplating their (potential) compatibility.

More specifically, it appears that Bryce frequently mirrors Azriel's dark and cold demeanour. For example:

"The sprite crawled off her arm and floated in front of her, arms wrapping across her round belly. "You can be cold as a Reaper, Bryce."

"Bryce said quietly, her amber eyes full of cold fire, "I'll find them." She met the Archangel's gaze. "And then I want you to wipe them off the fucking planet."

"Bryce's face remained cold as stone. Colder. Males approached, saw that expression, and didn't venture closer."

"The last gift of the synth before it destroyed her. Yet in her eyes. ... he saw no haze of insanity, of self-destructive frenzy. Only cold, glittering vengeance."

"That icy look—their father’s look—passed over her face. The sort of look that told him there was a wild, wicked storm raging beneath that cold exterior. And the power and thrill for both father and daughter lay not in sheer force, but in the control over the self, over those impulses. The outside world saw his sister as reckless, unchecked—but he knew she’d been the master of her fate since before he’d met her."

In line with this, there have been frequent discussions within the fandom that Azriel needs "healing" or "curing" from his darkness; that he needs to "change his ways." But, what if instead, Azriel needs someone who can match, and embrace his darkness?

And what if that person is Bryce?

(Speaking of 'embracing the darkness,' I find it interesting that Azriel "is a freak," as confirmed by SJM herself. With that in mind, let me remind you that upon first meeting Bryce, Azriel put a knife to her throat and then blindfolded her...).

[art by brielyasmin]

The Little Mermaid: a hint to Bryce and Az?

I know this is a popular Gwynriel theory (with extremely valid evidence to support it!), which is exactly why I haven't spoken about this connection before, as I don't want to offend anyone.

However, I am going to briefly mention it (only once) right now, and suggest that The Little Mermaid retelling SJM has alluded to, may in fact be Bryce and Azriel.

To first demonstrate this: there are several similarities between Bryce and Ariel (the mermaid).

Bryce and Ariel both have red hair (in comparison, Gwyn is canonically more of a brunette, with "coppery-brown" hair).

Ariel's story is about her journey from life underwater, to life in the human lands (where she meets Eric). Bryce's story involves her journey from Midgard, to Prythian (where she meets Azriel).

However, upon arriving in the human lands, Ariel's voice has been stolen; she cannot communicate with Eric. Similarly, Bryce arrives in Prythian and does not speak their language; she cannot communicate with Azriel.

In Ariel's story, the main antagonist is Ursula, a witch. Bryce also knows (a rather suspicious) witch... Jesiba.

[art by Morgana0anagrom]

Further, many in the fandom have already pointed out that SJM saved a variety of 'The Little Mermaid' inspired photos to her Pinterest. However, SJM specifically saved these photos under a Pinterest board titled "Story Kernels," meaning that we have no idea whether it's in reference to ACOTAR, CC or both (or neither!)

Some believe these photos to be reminiscent of Gwyn, but, when you compare these photos to the Pinterest images SJM saved of Bryce... the resemblance is most certainly there as well.

However, some may argue that "Bryce has no real link to mermaids" (in comparison to Gwyn, who has water-nymph heritage; though, that's different from being a mermaid as well).

But I disagree. Recall that in CC2, Bryce seems to rely on other people to "charge up" her power (such as Hunt and Hypaxia). However, I don't believe that is the true manifestation of her abilities. Instead, Bryce hints that she can feel a "giant cloud" of power inside her, one that she can't yet access.

"Bryce sucked in a sharp breath. “I can feel it—like, this giant cloud of power right there.” She ran a finger over the eight-pointed star scarred between her breasts. Starlight pulsed at her fingertip. Like an answering heartbeat. “But I can’t access it.”

The bulk of Bryce's power came from the Gates in Lunathion. Power that was donated by thousands (perhaps even hundreds of thousands) of different beings every time they touched the Gates. And given that the civilians of Midgard herald from different worlds... the variety of this power is staggering.

And it's exactly this power that I believe Bryce can feel (as the "giant cloud") but can't yet access. The evidence for this is engraved into the Gates themselves; "the power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city." Just as Bryce did.

"The quartz Gates were memorials, though she didn’t know for which conflict or war. But each bore the same plaque: The power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city."

As such, I believe Bryce's true power is that of the four houses of Midgard; she is Earth & Blood, Sky & Breath, Flame & Shadow, and Many Waters. It's similar to Feyre's power (but x 100).

(And, look again at the cover of CC3 and tell me it doesn't align perfectly with this...)

We even see this in canon when Bryce is making the Drop (after obtaining the power from the Gates):

"But his princess fought for every bit of progress upward, her power shifting, traces of everyone who’d given it to her coming through: mer, shifter, draki, human, angel, sprite, Fae."

"She was sea and sky and stone and blood and wings and earth and stars and darkness and light and bone and flame."

Thus, I believe a good chunk of Bryce's arc in CC3 will be about unlocking this power. And when she does... she will have access to the power of House of Many Waters (the highlighted quotes above emphasise this).

There's even a section of Bryce's ascent (during the Drop) where she thrusts upwards with a "mighty tail." I believe this is a mermaid tail.

"Her power shifted, dancing between forms and gifts. She thrust upward with a push of a mighty tail. Twisted and rose with a sweep of vast wings. She was all things—and yet herself."

And to tie the 'Little Mermaid = Bryce x Az' connections together even further; what's the likely title of the next Crescent City book?

House of Many Waters.

(And as a bonus fun fact: recall that the items on SJM's desk seemingly hint to the inspiration behind HOFAS? Zoom in and you'll see a Little Mermaid cup...).

Hades and Persephone too!

If you scroll back up to the Pinterest photo SJM saved as Mor and Az and reverse-image search it, you'll discover that it's actually an image of Hades and Persephone.

(So no, Feyre and Rhys weren't the only couple inspired by Hades and Persephone).

Similarly, the above Little Mermaid inspired photo that SJM saved (top left)? Also of Hades and Persephone.

The story of Persephone is that of a woman who once lived on Earth and was taken to the underworld. There, she eventually fell in love with Hades, the ruler of the underworld.

[Hades and Persephone art by oblivionsdream; it's giving Bryce and Az...]

Similarly, the final chapters of CC2 detailed Bryce's decision to use the Horn, and travel to Hel; the underworld. In doing so, she was taken to Azriel; someone who is heavily theorised to be a Prince of Hel (or connected to Hel, at the very least). As evidence of this:

The Princes of Hel are repeatedly connected to the cold. For example, when Apollion reaches out to touch Bryce, it's said that his touch was like "ice so cold it ached."

"[Apollion] reached out a hand, and Bryce flinched as it touched her. Truly touched her, ice so cold it ached."

Then Feyre touches Azriel for the first time, it's said that his skin was like "pure ice." (The similarities are uncanny!).

"But my attention drifted to Azriel, who took my still-offered hand and rose. The scars were rough against my fingers, but his skin was like ice. Pure ice."

However, this isn't the only instance. Instead, Azriel is repeatedly and consistently linked to being cold/icy/frozen. For example:

"I took Azriel’s hand, and his rough fingers squeezed mine. His skin was as cold as his face."

"There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw."

"Azriel’s dark breeze was different from Rhys’s. Colder. Sharper

"Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him."

We also know that Azriel is "different," and that even Rhys has "no explanation" for Azriel's shadowsinger abilities.

"Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning.

"Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from."

Thus, if Azriel is indeed connected to Hel (a storyline far more prevalent in the Crescent City series than the ACOTAR series, by the way), then one could logically assume that his mate will also be someone connected to Hel.

Who do Hel's armies strike for? Bryce.

“Hel’s armies shall strike at your command, Bryce Quinlan.”

Who has Aidas (the 5th Prince of Hel) been watching over? Bryce.

"The cat’s whiskers twitched. I told you. Come find me. Her eyelids drooped—a final descent toward sleep. Why? The cat angled its head. So we can finish this."

Who is Apollion's (the 7th Prince of Hel) "greatest opponent?" Bryce.

I also find it interesting that when they meet, Apollion refers to Bryce as "Princess," and Bryce refers to Apollion as "Prince." I understand that Bryce is the Princess of the Valbaran fae, but the way they spoke in this scene felt more like Apollion and Bryce were on equal footing...

“Princess.” The voice was like Hel embodied: dark and icy and smooth.” “Prince.” Her voice shook.”

Many people in the fandom have been theorising that Prythian (and the broader ACOTAR world) is a layer of Hel. Could it be a missing 8th layer?

And if so, if Bryce and Azriel are set to rule Prythian (as High Queen and High King, as per this theory), wouldn't this make them both also Princess and Prince of the 8th layer of Hel? Ruling from the Dusk Court... the 8th court? Signified by an 8-pointed star?

(This is ultimately why I ship Bryce and Azriel: their epic story potential is unlike anything we've seen before).

As further proof of this, recall the connections between Bryce and Theia (with many believing that Bryce is a reincarnation of Theia). Although Theia's backstory is still shrouded in mystery, at present we can deduce that:

Theia lived in Prythian, and had two daughters with an unknown man.

She then travelled to another world; Midgard (unwillingly), and allied with the Princes of Hel.

She was then said to have a relationship with Aidas, a Prince of Hel (as she was said to be Aidas's "great love").

(Fun fact: Aidas is another name for Hades).

Compare to Bryce:

Bryce lives in Midgard, and is currently with Hunt.

She then travels to another world; Prythian (unwillingly), in search of the Princes of Hel.

As per this theory, she will have a relationship with Azriel, a (theorised) Prince of Hel.

History is repeating. Rigelus even notes the similarities himself:

"Rigelus sighed dramatically at their stunned silence. “This all seems very familiar, doesn’t it? A Starborn queen who allied with a Prince of Hel."

Twilight of the Gods: SJM's multiverse series?

"But Bryce won't forget about Hunt!"

"She's not going to skip off into the sunset with Azriel in just one book! All of this is too much!"

I agree. I don't believe any huge shipping revelations will be made in CC3.

Instead, things will be much more tame to begin with. Perhaps Az will be the one to guide Bryce around Prythian (and they'll figure out their matching weapons, and the origins of the Dusk Court - both together, and alongside other pivotal ACOTAR characters). I believe Bryce and Az will develop a friendship, and that will be all (sort of like Aelin and Rowan, and their dynamic in Heir of Fire).

(That's not to diminish the significance of their interactions, though. If this theory is correct, then Bryce's POV may be the first to include Azriel at the forefront - no other character within the Azriel ship wars has had this opportunity yet).

Then, if Bryce and Azriel are indeed true mates and endgame, then I think that will be explored further down the line in what I predict will be SJM's multiverse series; Twilight of the Gods (which, as per the latest SJM publishing news, seems to be looking veryyyy likely; more information here).

"Twilight" is also another name for DUSK. Given everything I have already discussed, I am sure you can see how I believe that Bryce and Azriel's story (if they are indeed endgame) will be explored in this series - Twilight of the Gods (if it does indeed come to fruition).

Interestingly, both the Crescent City and Twilight of the Gods Pinterest boards are full of Sailor Moon imagery, and it appears as if Bryce (and her powers) have also been modelled after Sailor Moon herself. Knowing this, this image (which was also found in the Twilight of the Gods Pinterest board) is particularly interesting...

The sword? The multiverse-esque aesthetic?

This is fundamentally what the Bryce x Azriel ship comes down to: the promise and intrigue of a multiversal romance.

And don't you think SJM has considered this too? I find it hard to believe that SJM (the queen of fantasy romance) spent 5+ years planning out a crossover between her worlds, and didn't once stop to think about the possibility of a multiversal romantic pairing.

I mean, even back in 2015 SJM admitted to thinking about "crossover fanfic" with her own characters...

Moderator: "So, speaking of fandoms, different fandoms, um obviously you have ACOTAR, which is different from the TOG series. If both worlds could collide, which two characters would get on really well?"

SJM: <giggling>

Moderator: "Get on really well, not get it on really well" (laughs).

SJM: (laughs) "In my head I already have like, crossover fanfic (laughs). Like, is it fanfic if I'm writing it, or is it ultimate universe, canon things?

So, knowing all of this... why pair Bryce and Azriel together?

Most people in the fandom agree that Bryce and Azriel are connected in some way. I'm hoping that this post has made clear this connection even further.

But here's the thing: if we can all agree that Bryce and Azriel are connected, then why? What's the reason? And why not connect Bryce with other characters instead? Why Azriel specifically?

The two explanations I have heard are:

"Bryce and Azriel are cousins/related."

We already have the Ruhn and Rhys reveal, so why add another? I also don't see how Azriel could be related to Ember Quinlan or the Autumn King... (I also feel like Bryce's descriptions of Azriel's "tall, muscled body" and "gentle but thorough hands" is a lil weird for cousins...)

"Bryce and Azriel will be just friends."

Whilst I don't deny the likelihood of this, I also think that Bryce has the potential to become close friends with Nesta, Rhys, Feyre, Mor, Cassian (and many of the other characters). "Just friends" still wouldn't explain why SJM chose Azriel over everyone else (for example; why not make the prophecy around the Horn in Bryce's back and the remaining 3 Dread Trove items that Nesta can wield...?)

Instead, whenever there has been this much build-up or this much foreshadowing of a pairing... it's usually a sign that they are something special. Something more akin to mates - endgame.

[art by m_bohnet]

After all, consider things from Azriel's POV.

Sure, he has been busy with Mor and Elain and Gwyn (as people often tell me in response to this theory), but what happens when a beautiful woman from another world shows up, carrying the matching sword to his most prized knife? What happens when these weapons start glowing for one another in unison?

Don't you think Azriel would think something of this?

And, don't you think that if Elain or Gwyn had a sword that was the matching half to Azriel's knife (and a significant prophecy to boot!), it would be used as irrefutable evidence that their ship is endgame...?

But what about Hunt?

It's an opinion that earns me no favours in the fandom; but despite liking Hunt, I have always been sceptical about his relationship with Bryce (and am not yet convinced that they'll be endgame). This scepticism predates CC2 (and isn't just a feeling I conjured up in the hope that Bryce x Az will be endgame, as certain people assume).

For starters, both the Asteri and Apollion need Hunt and Bryce together to operate the Horn, and this is concerning.

To put it simply, Hunt was bred (for reasons we still don't yet know). However, as a result of Hunt's breeding, he possesses power that works with the Horn. In fact, CC2 makes clear that Hunt's lightning is the best source of power to "charge up" Bryce (and more specifically, the Horn).

“Your teleporting works when your power gets charged up by energy—considering what I heard about how quickly you ran out of steam with Hypaxia, Hunt’s is the best form of it.”

Bryce has the Horn in her back.

“Don’t think for one moment that Aidas and the Prince of the Pit have forgotten the Horn in your back. That Thanatos didn’t have it in mind when you spoke to him.”

To explain it in simple math terms:

Bryce + Hunt = fully operational Horn (they are like lock + key).

Apollion + Rigelus = both really want the Horn.

Apollion + Rigelus NEED Bryce + Hunt if they want a fully operational Horn.

In fact, we see Apollion egging Bryce and Hunt on to explore their powers more, and Rigelus fully admits to luring Bryce and Hunt to the Asteri palace at the end of CC2.

"Hunt’s blood iced over. “That was why you lured us here?” he found himself demanding of the Asteri, even as he roared with outrage at Bryce’s offer. Rigelus said, “I couldn’t very well snatch you off the streets. Not such notorious, public figures."

What's more, Bryce killed Micah, and Hunt killed Sandriel. The Asteri have punished (and killed) civilians for far less than that, but not only do the Asteri keep Bryce and Hunt alive, but they actively encourage their relationship together (and no one really questions that...).

"We also trust that this favor will serve as a reminder for you and Hunt Athalar. It is our deepest wish that you remain in the city, and live out your days in peace and contentment." "Fear gleamed in Hunt’s eyes. In her own, too, Bryce was sure. Nothing was ever this easy—this simple. There had to be a catch."

I just can't help but think of Maeve. She used her power to manipulate fate, leading Rowan to believe that Lyria was his mate instead of Aelin (for her own selfish gain).

Could it be possible that the Asteri, just like Maeve, have been... meddling with mating bonds for their own agenda - to use Bryce and Hunt for the Horn?

(Recall that in her latest interview, when asked if Bryce and Hunt's mating bond was the same as Feyre and Rhys's, SJM said "pass").

This leads to my second point.

The mating bond is a little strange between Bryce and Hunt.

I know this is a contentious subject, but there are enough people in the fandom who have stated a similar opinion for it to warrant suspicion. No one ever questions Rhys and Feyre's mating bond, nor Nesta or Cassian's, nor Aelin and Rowan's. But many don't buy Bryce and Hunt's mating bond.

In part, this is likely due to the nature of how it was initiated; after only knowing each other for 5 months, Hunt suggested calling each other mates because they couldn't find another term that fits. It happened randomly, and Bryce seemed to come up with a million different excuses initially; it just felt lacklustre in comparison to other mating bond reveals.

(That's not to invalidate Bryce and Hunt's clear affection for each other though - mating bond or not, their love for one another is more than evident).

“I thought that’s what this thing between us is.” “We’ve known each other for, like, five months.” “So?” “My mom will throw a fit. She’ll say we should date for at least two years before calling ourselves mates.”

But for me personally, it comes down to Bryce and Hunt's power (and the Horn). Again, using Throne of Glass as an example, when Maeve messed with Rowan's mating bond, she admitted that she didn't suspect Rowan and Aelin were mates once they met, because their carranam bond (which involves the sharing of power, as Bryce and Hunt do...) was masking the mating bond.

"I’ll admit I did not anticipate it. That I had broken Rowan Whitethorn so thoroughly that he did not recognize his own mate—that you were so broken by your own pain you didn’t notice, either. And when the signs appeared, the carranam bond washed away any suspicion on his part that you might be his."

Instead, the only indication that Aelin and Rowan were mates, was that they could feel each other's pain.

"Maeve ignored her. “Well? When did you know?” “At Temis’s temple,” Aelin admitted, glancing to Manon. “The moment the arrow went through his shoulder. Months ago.”

This is objectively absent in Bryce and Hunt. Not only that, but in the Bone Quarter, Bryce seems to question the validity of the mating bond herself:

"Hunt's lightning had stopped. Where was he? Would a mate know, would a mate feel-"

Which again, you have to wonder; if SJM is trying to sell Bryce x Hunt as endgame to her readers, why include this?

Further, even if Bryce and Hunt are mates, we don't yet know how this works across worlds. Given that the Cauldron (supposedly) assigns mating bonds in Prythian, and Bryce's "true world" is also Prythian, does Bryce have an additional Cauldron-assigned mating bond in that world too...?

Maybe that aligns with this tweet from SJM:

The Oracle.

In CC1, Hunt visits the Oracle, and she tells him to "keep well away from Bryce Quinlan."

"Do yourself a favour, Orion Athalar, and keep well away from Bryce Quinlan."

The Oracle could presumably see into Hunt's future, and could see whether he and Bryce live happily ever after. If this was the case, and the Oracle could indeed see such a happy outcome, then why would the Oracle say such a thing...? Why warn Hunt like that?

Similarly in CC1, Aidas reveals to Bryce that although the Oracle was blinded during her visit all those years ago... he wasn't. Aidas was there too, and he saw Bryce's future.

"Aidas had nearly vanished into nothing when he added, the words a ghost slithering through the room, "The Oracle did not see. But I did."

Yet in that exact same scene, Aidas turns to Hunt and has no idea who he is, asking "who are you?"

Hunt kept perfectly still as Aidas studied her. Then his eyes registered Hunt. He blinked—once. As if he had not really marked his presence until this moment. As if he hadn’t cared to notice, with Bryce before him. Hunt tucked away that fact, just as Aidas murmured, “Who are you.”

Thus, if Aidas has seen Bryce's future, and Bryce and Hunt are indeed endgame (and he is in her future)... then why didn't Aidas recognise Hunt?

Hunt's future.

If this theory is correct, and given that we have two beings with foresight (the Oracle and Aidas) hinting at Bryce and Hunt's ominous future... then what could possibly happen to Hunt

Theory 1) Hunt may die.

This theory has been around even since the HOEAB days, and is well-known by most (so I won't expand on it too much). However, the basic premise of it boils down to Hunt's birth name, Orion, and Orion being famously killed (often by his lover) in mythology. Perhaps this also explains the Oracle's warning to him.

Recall also the quote repeated again and again (often by Hunt);

"Memento Mori. Remember that you will die. They now seemed more of a promise than the mild reminder from the Meat Market."

Similarly, knowing what happened to Sam in Throne of Glass, I find this parallel to Bryce and Hunt a little uncanny (and is exactly what we mean when we talk about death flags...).

[Sam and Aelin]: "I can wait," he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. "We have all the time in the world." Maybe he was right. And spending all the time in the world with Sam ... that was a treasure worth paying anything for."

[Bryce and Hunt]: "Assuming I live through it, you mean." "Assuming you live through taking on the Archangels and Asteri, what then?" "I don't know." He gave her a half smile. "Maybe you and I can figure it out, Quinlan. We'll have centuries to do it."

2. Hunt may become an Asteri weapon; an (unwilling) villain.

In fact, it has recently been theorised (such as in this post here) that Hunt may already have acted as an Asteri weapon in the past, and may have even had a part to play in Danika's death. As unbelievable as this may sound, consider these two quotes.

In HOEAB, Hunt remarks that his victims always said the same words; "please."

“Please.” It was always the same word. The only word people tended to say when the Umbra Mortis stood before them.

Then, this is the only audio we hear of Danika right before she dies:

"And then someone was roaring—a feral wolf’s roar. “Please, please—” The words were cut off. But the hall camera’s audio wasn’t."

To that people would say "Hunt would never!" And rightly so. However, consider that:

Hunt didn't know Bryce when this occurred.

Hunt was already tasked with killing one of Bryce's friends; Fury. Twice. The only reason it didn't happen was because someone higher up halted the orders.

"Micah had even ordered Hunt to kill her. Twice. But she had too many high-powered allies. Some, it was whispered, on the Imperial Senate. So both times, Micah had decided that the fallout over the Umbra Mortis turning Fury Axtar into veritable toast would be more trouble than it was worth."

However, regardless of whether this theory is true or not (as sure, perhaps the wording could be coincidence), one cannot deny the connection between the names of Hunt (Orion) and the Asteri; all named after stars and/or constellations.

In fact, Sirius (the 7th Asteri), is known as Orion's hunting dog in mythology.

And Rigel (as in Rigelus), is the brightest star in the Orion constellation.

Consider also Rigelus's words to Hunt; "I thought we were friends, Orion," and something just seems... off.

(Though, I'd be happy to be proven wrong, as Hunt is one of my favourite SJM males. Just because I think an awful thing could happen, doesn't mean I want it to happen).

What about Gwynriel/Elriel?

Another topic that I won't touch on in too much depth, as I'm sure that most people are already familiar with the points for and against these ships.

The only thing I will say is that things change. What ships appear to be canon or strongly foreshadowed in one book can totally change in the next. SJM has said as much herself (as outlined in the FAQ section on her personal website):

"Will [my favourite couple] be endgame?" "No spoilers! In all seriousness, while I do have ideas for all my currently contracted books, I would never guarantee any plot points or pairings until each book is written. I've been surprised by where characters have taken me before!"

But we also know this is true based on the Throne of Glass ship wars that raged on back in the day. If we were to time-travel back to 2012 and 2013 (when the first two TOG books were released), we'd see people arguing as to whether Aelin (Celeana) would end up with Chaol or Dorian. There was no third option.

And then in the third book, Rowan was introduced. But even then people denied the possibility of his romance with Aelin, instead siding with Chaol, with arguments such as:

"Rowan already has a mate!"

"Rowan and Aelin are probably just related and nothing more!"

"Rowan and Aelin are from two different kingdoms, it would never work. Chaol is back home in Rifthold waiting for her!"

(Sound familiar...?)

It was also argued that Chaol and Aelin would be endgame instead, given the mate-adjacent language that was used between them:

"Far inside of her, she found a golden chain that bound them together."

"The rest of the world quieted... she looked at him and realised she was home."

"She knew his every move and he knew hers, as though they'd been dancing this waltz together all their lives."

"It somehow felt as if it had always been Chaol, even from the beginning, even before they'd ever met."

But nope -- in the third book, Aelin stumbled into a foreign land and came face to face with Rowan; her true, fated mate.

In fact, this speaks to a certain SJM pattern I have noticed:

Aelin is forced to leave Rifthold for Wendlyn (oh no!)... but then she meets Rowan.

Chaol and Nesryn are forced to leave Rifthold for the Southern Continent (oh no!)... but then they meet Yrene and Sartaq.

Feyre is forced to leave the Spring Court for the Night Court (oh no!)... but then she meets Rhys.

Nesta is forced to leave the human lands for the faerie lands (oh no!)... but then she meets Cassian.

Now, Bryce has been forced to leave Midgard for Prythian (oh no!)... and she falls right in front of Azriel. He "gently" blindfolds her, grabs her hand, chucks her over his shoulder, and their matching weapons start glowing "in answer" to each other... and this is supposedly just a crackship?

And I get it; there's already Bryce and Hunt. And Azriel and Gwyn. And Azriel and Elain. However, I do think it's interesting that at present, the two biggest debates within the fandom are:

Are Bryce and Hunt truly mates/endgame?

Will Gwynriel or Elriel be endgame?

If any of these ships were a slam-dunk guarantee... these debates just simply wouldn't exist. Point is, with SJM (and especially with the multiverse opening up)... the possibilities are endless.

And, the promise of Bryce and Azriel is just one of these possibilities, but it's my favourite one of all.

After all, stars cannot shine without darkness.

(P.S. Some of these points were first identified by my friends - so credit and a huge thank you to them! ❤️)

#acotar #crescent city #bryce quinlan #azriel acotar #sjm multiverse #sjm theory #sjm crossover #bryce x azriel #bryceriel

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stormhearty · 8 months

Text

Death's Magic

Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for awhile, though the original idea had a merge with the World of Harry Potter, I thought it might have been better and easier to just keep it in the world of ACOTAR but change up a few things. please do forgive if I have some wrong information, I have only read up to ACOWAR. This scene is based on chapter 58-59 of A Court of Mist and Fury when Velaris was attacked by the Attor-like creatures. Also, I wrote this in Notion and decided to put it in Word to see how long it was — it was 5+ pages and I was like wow.

Summary: When the truth of your powers is revealed to your bonded mates, Eris and Rhysand, and your Court, histories are exposed, insecurities are talked about. But you know… all you know despite the navigating that your mates will always be with you.

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: death, fighting, insecurities

Parings: Eris x Death!Reader x Rhysand (feat. Night Court characters)

“You will never know how that child’s feels…” Armen growled, silver eyes glowing as she glared at the two lords that held her lady. Eyes shifted from the two males, that was bonded to the female that was at the center of everything, those silver eyes shifted from pure anger to something softer — something that was rarely seen with the ancient being. Eris brought you closer to his arms, as he watched Rhysand’s hand gently caress your brows, the two of them hoping you’d wake up to explain what had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

It had been a long day for everyone in that room — the attack on Velaris by the Attor by Hybern, shook everyone to their core. None of them thought that the King would be able to break through the shields that surrounded the city; however, he did and almost plunged their home into destruction. Cassian and Azriel were barely able to winnow to the city on time to try to defend it. Mor had been away on official business while Armen was with Varian at the Autumn Court with Eris to try to convince Eris’ father to fight against Hybern. Velaris’ High Lord was on a search, attempting to find Myriam and Drakon to help with the looming threat that is Hybern. It had left the city vulnerable, the King believing it was an easy attempt to wipe out its growing enemy without its High Lord and protectors. However, it was futile, unaware of the shadow and darkness that lingered there — that you had stayed behind to quietly protect the city.

When you had been introduced by Armen to the Inner Circle, you were a person of mysterious origin — the Inner Circle very wary about you, for a very good reason. The only reason why you were able to stay in Valeris was because of Armen. She was able to find you a place to stay in the outskirts of the city, accompanying you to every Inner Circle meeting and staying by your side while you had adjusted to your new life. Whenever Rhysand had inquired about you — your history, your origin, you in general, Armen had become over-protective — silencing the Night Court Lord with just a glare.

“Her past is something I cannot share. She has her own darkness, that she has to hide to live with us in the light. Do not inquire anymore than you should. She is loyal, that is the only thing you should know about her,” was the only thing that Armen would ever share.

You had accompanied him and the Inner Circle — as the substitute of Armen when the ancient being was busy or reluctant of accompanying the group to another Court. You had been nothing but a whisp of shadow during those times, similar to Azriel, hiding within the shadows, watching over those who lived in the light.

One day when you had accompanied Rhysand to the Autumn Court to visit its High Lord. Another attempt to convince the Vanserra Lord to rally against Hybern. When the two of you had stepped into the massive throne room, you were greeted by the eldest Vanserra son. The three of you looked at one another before you felt a snap against your chest.

You pressed a gloved hand against your chest, it was an unusual feeling for you; however, you watched as the High Lord and the High Lord heir collapse onto their knees, feeling on how strong that snap was against their chest.

Brows furrowed as you watched them in confusion — their panting, and their equal amount of confusion as they looked at each other before turning to you, violet and amber eyes staring at you. Silence surrounded the three of you, and a heartbeat later, the two of them stood up, slowly surrounding you. Tilting your head up to look at the two, confusion still evident in your features, “… Are you two alright?” you voiced.

Apparently you had no idea what had just transpired, and the only thing that had to be said was, “… You are our mate…”

It had been a long, winding road for Eris and Rhysand to accept that they shared a mate. It was difficult… you rarely opened up to either of them, it was a slow tedious thing, and Eris was rarely available to grow the mating bond with you. The three of you had to meet in secret to ensure the safety of this bond. The bond had made both males over protective and Rhysand understood why Armen was so, over you. Both of them could feel the obscurity on your side of the bond, them understand that you had no idea what it had meant to be in a Cauldron-blessed bond. It took a lot on both their end to figure you out, open you up to the point you trusted them, and in turn, trust you.

By the time Rhysand had winnowed to the House of Wind where the Attor had been successful in infiltrating, the High Lord had found you — your delicate stature fighting against the Attor. Magic fighting against magic, anything that Attor tried to use against you would bounce off the glimmering shield of darkness that surrounds you. Rhysand watched you, your movement swift and smooth, much like the creature you fought; as if you were the wind itself, you were shadow itself. He felt the air move around him, feeling his brothers and the rest of the Inner Court arriving, watching the scene fold in front of them. Rhysand watched as Armen arrive with Varian in toe, eyes widening slightly as he saw Eris arrive along with them. Eris moved, fighting against the wind that swirled around the throne room towards the High Lord of Night Court, towards his mate. Eris placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, a movement of support as they locked eyes for a moment before looking back at the fight — back to the third of their mating bond — towards you.

All of them watched as a slender hand reached above, magic pulsating around them as another wind of glimmer and darkness wafted through the air — growing wider and bigger. Rhysand watched as that shield surrounded not only him but his family and soon his whole home. Eyes looking out the window to see a swarm of Attor-like creatures, flying towards the open balcony, attempt to enter the House of Wind, only to be stopped by the barrier. The magic preventing the destruction of his home.

A high shrill scream returned his attention to the action, Rhysand’s body entering into fight mode. Violet eyes looked back at fight, watching as your figure was enshroud by a shadow, one that grew large until it was large enough to reach the ceiling of the throne room. Cloaked in black robes, hood drawn over its head — a creature much like the Attor itself, much like the Suriel, something similar to the Bone Carver in the Prison, to the Weaver in the Middle — but they knew that this creature was nothing like the previous, it was something darker… something more powerful. They watched as the shadow extended its hand, a hand — nothing but bone and tendon exposed, pointing its long bony finger towards the Attor, who had knelt on its knees, bony prominences pressed against the marble floor — panting, blood and sweat clinging onto its cloak as if it was apart of it. When that bony finger touched the top of its head, another scream tore from the Attor’s throat, its body disintegrating into nothing but ash.

The air stilled, and the shadow faded away, leaving your figure in its wake. Time seemed to pause as they watch you tilt your head slightly before turning their direction. When your eyes — dark as the night sky, dark as black locked eyes with him before drifting to Eris’ by his side. You had given them a soft smile, eyes squinting into crescents their names nothing but a whisper against your lips before you body collapsed onto the floor.

Eris was the first one to come out of the stupor, his body immediately running towards yours. He skidded onto his knees as he heaved your body into his arms, a hand against your cheek to try to wake you up. Rhysand was hot on his heels, kneeling on the other side of your figure, sharp talons against you mind, trying to probe through the darkness that had shrouded your mind.

That is where it landed you now. The Inner Court at the Townhouse, your body still in Eris’ arms as both High Lords tried to interrogate the ancient being to tell why you had not woken up. Armen did not tell them anything, her stubbornness tenfold when it came to you; but it was hesitant now, knowing that the males that held you would stop at anything to ensure your safety.

A heartbeat of silence surrounded the room before Armen sighed.

“I pray the Mother would forgive me…” she muttered before she steeled herself against the stares of her family, “(Y/N)… is a God Made into a High Fae. When I had escaped the Prison, she was standing outside, an empty shell. I didn’t know what kind of God she was but she was lost as I and, that, immediately made us stick to each other. I had adapted faster to this world that she did, and so I kept her hidden while I became part of this world — part of your Court. I looked, looked into books, looked into the past, talked with the Gods of Old in the Prison to find out what she was…”

Eyes looked from Rhysand and Eris, to your form that was resting soundly in their arms.

“… She is Death itself. Death reincarnate. The Bone Carver, the Attor, the Suriel all made in her likeness… or what she used to be. The reason why she couldn’t… assimilate easily as I do was because she was never even part of this world originally. And so when that bond snapped between the three of you, I was surprised.”

Rhysand and Eris glanced at each other, remembering that moment when it was revealed to Armen that they were your mates. The surprise and hesitance in her features — it all made sense. You were a God and they were Cauldron-bound to you. You were as old, even older than Prythian itself. And yet you were mated to the two of them.

Armen shrugged, another sigh escaped her lips. Varian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her, “She was like a child, lost in this world. She didn’t know of her powers, it sometimes leaked out of her… You all have seen it.”

And they have, the flittering of shadows and darkness. Everyone had thought originally it was from Azriel — lights flickering when you were angry, shadows and night seeped out of your fingertips when you were training with Cassian. And all unknown to you.

“She has been trying to figure out herself, figure out her powers… She doesn’t know how to use it to her full conscious. Both of us have tried to rein in her powers, make it fully under her control.”

“… So what happened earlier?” Azriel questioned from his position in the corner of the room, his tone tight, “That thing that she had summoned that disintegrated the Attor.” The shadowsinger wasn’t mad, he was more frustrated than anything — they were your family, and yet you hid this part of you from them.

Another shrug from Armen, “I’ve tried to read… read anything concerning her. That thing I am unsure of. All I could think of —”

“The Grim…”

Eyes snapped towards your form, Eris and Rhysand looked down at you as you started to awaken. Apparently, you knew what they were talking about.

“It’s called the Grim…” you opened your eyes, your eye color back to normal — not the black color they had seen after the battle, but your own, ‘…A servant of Death itself.”

“(Y/N), Darling…” Rhysand breathed, as he kneeled in front of you as Eris shifted your form in his arms so that Rhysand could hold your cheeks, assessing you, ensuring you were unharmed. While Eris pressed his lips against the crown of your head, muttering, “Thank the Mother…”

A small smile tugged at your lips, feeling the bond tugged at both ends from your mates, eyes fluttering close as you let a wave of assurance down the bond. It had taken awhile for you to get used to using it to give comfort to both males, and longer for you to accept any sort of feeling from their end.

Once hands were off of you, Eris helped you to sit on the couch, large hands from both of your mates steadying you as you looked back at Armen. Your eyes staring into her silver ones, unvoiced betrayal in your look — Armen had promised to never let anyone know of what you were — and yet here she was, exposing your history. She let out a whimper, her way of apologizing to you before Varian wrapped her in his arms.

Silence again filled the room before the shuffling of feet. You had assumed that Rhysand had asked for everyone to leave, leaving you with your two mates. You took a breath, in and out, trying to rein in whatever you were feeling at the moment — you didn’t know what to feel.

Sure, you were exhausted, the fight with the Attor depleted your magic. You had not only protected yourself but the whole of Velaris with your magic. That you could deal with, but not this raw emotion of betrayal from your friend. Deep down, you knew that Armen only did what was necessary, to ease the tension in the room — to try to explain what had happened with you and the Attor hours before — to prove that you belonged there with them. That you were not a threat, that you were not an enemy to the Night Court. You knew that. You would talk to Armen properly later.

No matter how many centuries had passed, you were still figuring out your powers… still figuring out yourself. Today was another thing you’d have to figure out… and you wondered if, now, you have to figure it out yourself.

A tug at the golden string in your chest made you look up, staring at the violet hues of the third of your mate. Rhysand had looked at you were such worry, brows furrowed as he assessed you, a caress of your mental shields from his end. Another tug at that string made you look up at Eris, a similar look of worry sat on his face. You took another breath, one that shuddered through your figure before you reached out, both hands extended, to your mates only to pause in midair.

They were tainted with black, as if your fingertips were necrotized, as if the darkness lingered on you. A frown tugged on your lips, as you assessed them, retracting them slightly as if afraid to touch your mates with such hands. Hands were immediately on your wrist, your right in Rhysand’s and your left in Eris’, as you watched both of them press your hands against their chest, showing that you weren’t going to hurt them.

“…I’m sorry…” you slowly apologized, not even sure of what you were apologizing about. Was it the fact that you withheld your past from them? Or was it just the need to apologize to them.

You heard twin sighs before you felt identical kisses on the top of your head and that alone wrecked your body into another strong shudder, tears lining your eyes. You didn’t want to not tell them about you, you just… you couldn’t. You didn’t even know what you were, you didn’t know the extent of your powers.

“Is that the reason why you never told us? Even after the bond made itself known?” Rhysand asked, as he pulled away to look at you with a raised brow, “That you were Death? That you didn’t know yourself nor your powers?”

All you could do was nod your head, teeth biting into lower lip, as if you were a child being reprimanded, “… I was trying to figure it out,” you started off, fingers bunching at both of their shirts, to try to ground yourself to at the moment, eyes dimming for a moment before returning to the now, “Trying to figure myself out, my powers, to fit into this world. I just felt so…” a shrug lifted your shoulders, “I’m sure Armen told you… I felt lost, out of control. Like I was not here and here at the same time. That my powers had a mind of their own, controlling themselves through me. I just… didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eris and Rhysand always had seen it, how spaced out you were at times. Even with the bond between the three of you, your bond seemed frazzled, and much longer than the one that had connected the two males. They had worked so hard to get to you, to have you be in the moment with them, to be connected to you. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t doing the same, you worked with them… got used to being part of the Court, to be part of something much bigger than yourself — to be part of them. You had opened up to them, slowly but surely. You accepted the bond with much courting from both of the High Lords — many dates, many stolen kisses, many whispers during the night.

But hearing you, sound more vulnerable than you’ve ever been before, even during those moments at night when both Eris and Rhysand had expressed their darkest fears, their worries to you, they had never seen you more powerless.

Fingers slipped from their grip on their shirts, as you brought them back closer to your body, wringing your fingertips as if an attempt to wash off the stained darkness that lingered on your skin, “I also… didn’t want to scare either of you…” you confessed, almost a whisper, “The bond was formed and you two were almost fighting tooth and nail at each other at times —” a chuckle from both of the males made a small smile tug onto your features, “ — All the while ensuring that this bond was going to work. You guys set a lot of your differences aside to…” tears eventually overflowed, “Make sure that I was okay. And yet…”

You felt choked up. They had worked so hard in this bond, and yet… you didn’t even tell them — about who and what you were, you held the truth from them. Insecurities started to build up in you — that you were not meant for this bond, you didn’t deserve to be part of the Night Court… or any other court in that matter… that you weren’t meant to have such amazing mates — High Lords in the matter of a fact.

Your insecurites zip lined through the bond and it smashed towards Rhysand and Eris, and they couldn't help but tear up as well. Eris gently picked you up and back into his lap, strong, secure arms wrapping around your body, letting the bond open wide to provide you comfort and show how much he had loved you. Rhysand mimicked that, showering you with love and attention; reaching out to hold your hands in his.

“Oh sweetheart…” Eris hummed into your hair, pressing kisses on the top of your head, “… You should never be sorry about anything… It had been hard to understand from our side. We wondered on why you withheld such an important piece of yourself away from us; we had thought it was because you never trusted us fully —”

You were about retort up at him, only to have Eris press a kiss on your lips to silence you. He hummed before pulling back to gaze at you.

“— But, now we understand, and we're not going to reprimand you for it. Just know that we love you and, gosh…” a laugh escaped his chest, causing you to blink up at him in surprised, “You would never scare us away, (Y/N)… Not before finding out what you are, and not now, after finding out your Death reincarnate…”

“And…” you heard Rhysand shuffle into his feet before flopping down next to the both of you, taking your form from Eris’ lap and onto his own. Your two mates situated themselves — you on Rhysand’s lap, while your legs laid on Eris’ thighs.

“The thing with your powers… we can figure them out together. We can go to Day Court, ask Helion if they have any books about you and your powers…” he hummed softly, tilting your head up to press a kiss on your lips, “And even if we don't… All three of us will figure it out together..”

You smiled against his lips, nodding your head.

Eris reached over and gently held your chin to tug your lips towards his way, placing his own kiss.

“Can you imagine, Rhys…” The Autumn Heir murmured against your lips, “That our mate is in history books? Her name written for everyone to remember?” He teased, another kiss on your lips.

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, “Well… she is amazing…”

A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled away from Eris’ lips, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other holding Rhysand’s hand that was around your waist.

“Well…” you whispered as you looked at both of them, their eyes shining as they looked at you, “Your names will be right beside mine then… We’ll ask Helion to fix those books…”

Chuckles escaped all three of you, as you remained in their arms, as you basked in the love and care of your two mates.

Even though you are uncertain about the future, the prospect of navigating your powers, you know at least your family and your mates were there to help you every step of the way.

#( .one-shot : death's magic )#acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #eris x reader #rhysand x you #eris x you #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fluff #acotar angst

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yiiyiiwrites · 2 months

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🗡 | Relics and Ruins | 5 |

Part 5 [series masterlist]

Sweat coated your chest, silk nightgown sticking to you like a second skin. Your fingers twisted in the bed sheets, breathes heavy as you tried to shake the nightmare from your head. The first night you woke in terror, your mind still hazy that you searched the empty bed for Eris, before realising where you were.

The glowing ball of fae light the only comfort to you in the dark. It flared, pulse of light repeating so you could control your breathing once again. Your gaze slid to the door, you wondered if Azriel had heard you stirring.

You don’t know why, but the thought of him being across the hall calmed you. Since your journey back under the mountain, you hadn't been able to sleep a full night. Waking multiple times, covered in sweat and trying to expel the memories before they convinced you that you were still trapped down there.

Staring at the beds draped canopy above, you asked the house to run you a bath. Trickling water filled the silence, the sound taking over from the pounding in your head. You pulled yourself out of the plush bed, bare feet padding against the cold floor.

Steam rose from the tub, oils swirling on top of the water. You peeled off your nightgown and sunk into the bath. The warmth distracting you from the nightmare, the memories. Candles lined the tub, flames igniting the wicks and lighting up the space. You breathed in the soothing lavender scent, thanking the house for calming you once again. It was now routine, the scents and oils ever changing on your needs though.

You didn't get out till the water ran cold, the candles snuffing out as soon as the sun rose. The ball of fae light returned to the locket hanging from your neck, something you always kept close.

True to her word, Nesta had sorted your belongings. Your garments hung in the wardrobe, she'd added some extra pieces for you to brave the cold of winter in Velaris. The sheer layered clothing you owned, did not give you much warmth that you stayed in the house of wind, always sat close to the fire. You plucked out the thickest tunic, sheer panel dropping from the tied waist to skim mid thigh and a pair of trousers.

Slipping your boots on, you willed yourself to open the door. As you stepped out and looked down the hallway, you caught a glimpse of his shadows. You hadn’t seen him for a few days since he’d shown you to your room. Cassian telling you, his friend busy gathering intel.

You skipped breakfast, like every other morning. There’s no point when you could ask the house or the fact that sometimes the house gave you things when you needed without asking. Every day you’d taken up refuge in the library, the ancient sword laid upon the circular table in the centre.

Books covered the table around the relic, parchments marking notes of useful research. You almost dropped the books from your arms, Azriel sitting in the dark corner. Finger tracing the line he read, his shadows peaked over his shoulder at you and a few tore towards you at such speed that it made you jump. Your books fell to the floor with a thud.

Something brushed past you, door gently closing behind you. You’re still staring at Azriel who’s yet to acknowledge you, but he’s too engrossed in the text he’s reading. That or he’s doing a very good job of ignoring you.

You wondered if you’d overstepped, replaying the image of your hand in his whilst he stood in the doorway to your bedroom. Nesta had warned you he kept to himself and not to worry, but you did.

Cassian knelt down collecting your books, “did you sleep any better?” He asked, walking to the table with you. His long hair scraped back and tied at the nape of his neck, a few strands framing his chiseled face.

“Better, thank you,” you lied, voice low so only he could hear. The third night you woke, a scream tore your throat and Cassian in your room, daggers by his side ready to attack. He’d refused your multiple apologies, stating that it was natural and he was hard wired to protect, mentioning that Azriel would do the same for you if he were there.

Talking with Cassian came easy, both of you interested in history. Swapping stories about the ancients and hearing him speak of the Illyrian gods. You definitely miss judged him from your first encounter with him at your studio, smarter which you should have expected from a general.

Azriel on the other hand, you had no idea what he was like or what interested him. You hadn’t held a proper conversation with him yet, though you found yourself wanting to ask him questions.

“Maybe we should just take it out,” Cassian said, his hand on the hilt of the sword.

“No,” you blurted out, “just give me another day. There’s an energy there I can’t decipher. Don’t want a curse ruining a life.”

It had been a few days since you’d arrived, the streams of books at your disposable not offering anything helpful in your search of the relic. Rhys said the sword had only ever been recorded by word of mouth. Tales you tell over campfires, whispers of something not everyone believes, but they listen.

Velaris’s archive lived up to its reputation, you’d copied helpful texts as you went and started to fill up a second notebook. Blue ink stained the side of your hand, you scrubbed it raw trying not to think of him and under the mountain.

Rhys, Amren and Azriel agreed that whatever energy surrounded the relic, chaotic. Unreadable, but the underlining buzz of something burrowed beneath it.

Taking the blade from its sheath without a scrap of knowledge on it was something you were reluctant to do. You’d had fifty years of opening and touching objects that were cursed, warded to inflict pain. You didn’t want to subject anyone else to that, not when there was time to study, your way of protecting.

“If there’s no word from the day courts archivists, we’ll take it out tomorrow,” you said slamming the book shut in your lap. Your one friend in the day court, renowned historian was searching the depths of her library for you, still no word but that was expected when she dove into her research.

Rhys glanced to the sword, Azriel and then to you. His hands in his pockets, "Is there any other energies you feel?"

You shook your head, “the only thing I feel is cold,” you paused, catching Rhys's deep frown. “Its winter here, my dawn clothing is not enough. Still trying to get used it,” you said, rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

“Nesta left some winter garments in your wardrobe, is there anything else you need?” Cassian asked, his face softened and arms dropping to his side making him more approachable. You appreciated how he offered you comfort in the smallest of gestures, even Nesta had been good company between your research.

“Thank you, I don’t need anything else. I just need to get used to feeling the cold in my bones again.” You tried to laugh off the statement, another reminder of under the mountain.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, but Azriel remained in his dark corner. Cassian and Rhys leaving early to spend time with their mates, leaving you with the spymaster. You piled up the books you'd already sifted through, adding a note on top for Nesta to return to library.

You collapsed in the armchair by the fire, fingers tracing the patterned fabric. The flames crackled as the house dropped another log into the hearth, you tapped the scar beneath your long sleeve. The thick material rubbing against it all day had you slapping the spot to stop the ache and itchiness. You normally wore sheer sleeves so that it could breath and not irritate to you, but you didn’t want everyone to see the tattoo. Too many questions and answers you didn’t want to give.

The next day, your friend from the day court notified you of her findings, the missing texts and a whole century of history unreadable thanks to vanishing ink. They'd tried to decipher best they could, but couldn't break whatever ward clung to the yellowing pages.

Cassian, Azriel and you circled the table, ancient sword silent before you as if it knew what you were planning. The small scratching sound that filled the room for days, gone. Although you'd dedicated some time to research, you didn't have enough of it to waste.

“Ok I’ll do it,” Cassian said, hand wrapping around the hilt. He glanced between you and Azriel, brow raised as if waiting for you to protest.

"Maybe we should wait for Rhys?" Azriel was the one to speak, his shadows circling his crossed arms against his chest. He hadn't glanced at you since you'd entered the library or since his return yesterday.

"We've been staring at this for weeks and all we've discovered is how cold you are here," Cassian said, pointing the sheathed sword in your direction.

"I should do it," you said, holding your palm open. "I know how to work a curse, if you guys get one it could manipulate your strength and powers." Cassian gripped the hilt tighter, shaking his head at the offer.

Azriel's deep voice startled you, not expecting his words being directed at you. "No, we promised Thesan to keep you save, Cassian knows what he's doing." He doesn't look at you though, some part of you longing for his hazel eyes to connect with yours.

You nod, stepping back from the two Illyrian warriors. Azriel's dagger grasped in one hand and his shadows twirling around his other.

Cassian pulled the sword from its sheath, nothing. The scratching against metal flooded the room again and he dropped the sheath to the floor with a clang.

A white fog curled out of the ornate metal, moving like lightning. You didn't see the thing before it launched at you, a thousand tiny teeth sinking into your flesh. The force knocked you down and sent you across the room.

Darkness dispersed around you, red and cobalt glows flitting around the room. The small ball of fae light released itself from your locket, yellow hue shining on the worm eating away at you. A hand grabbed the back of your shirt collar, yanking you through the room. You pulled the worm off your thigh and flung it away.

Your back hit the wall in the hallway, library door slamming shut. Cassian knelt down in front you, trembling hands hovering close to the wound on your thigh. He didn't touch it though.

“Fuck, that thing was ancient,” you spat, Cassian chuckled at your outburst. You ripped the sheer long panel from your tunic and tied it around your thigh, knotting it twice and groaning at the tight pull. You peered around Cassian, Azriel nowhere to be seen, a few of his shadows escaping through the gap underneath the door to check on you.

The weight on your necklace light, you touched the open locket wondering why it hadn't returned to you.

"Stay here."

You clutched Cassian's wrist, stopping him before he could open the door. "We need that thing alive," you snarled, nose nearly brushing yours as you pulled him down to you. "It's a flesh eating worm, nasty buggers. Cut it in half and pin it down."

"Let's just hope Az hasn't already slaughtered it on your behalf." He smirked and you almost slid down the wall, long hair falling into his face, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Cassian helped you up from the floor, knowing that you weren't going to sit this one out. He kicked the door in, dragging you back through the mist, his red siphons the only thing you could see of him through the darkness.

The ball of fae light whizzed around at your feet, then twirled back to the centre of the room. A glint of silver glimmered to the left, you flinched as something hit your face and dripped down your cheek. The shadows fell away revealing Cassian and Azriel, chests heaving up and down, the truth-teller pinning the worm to the planks of the wooden floor.

Another dagger pierced the worms tail, its size doubled after feasting on your flesh. You licked your lip regretting it instantly at the coppery tang of blood covering you. The worms blood. You stared at Cassian covered head to toe in blood and slime, he must have been close to it when Azriel cut the creature in half.

You inched closer to the worm, flinching when the tail flicked in your direction. A groan slipped from your lips, thigh throbbing as a streak of pain sent shocks down your leg.

Azriel's arm trailed around your back and under your arm, he lifted you effortless and sat you on the armchair by the fire, the same spot you'd taken everyday. His face hard, eyes narrowed and the tic in his jaw pulsing as he stared at the wound on your thigh.

"I've had way worse, flesh eating worms are the least of my worries," you said trying to lighten the mood, his scowl deepened at your words. "Do you have a healers kit I use?" You tilted your head trying to meet his gaze, but he'd already walked away.

Cassian leaned on the doorframe, wiping the slime from his chin with the back of his hand. "Az will patch you up, I'm going to shower and hope I never see the inside of one them again." You returned his smile, offering a silent thank you.

You sunk back into the soft backing of the armchair, wrists hanging off the armrest as you waited for Azriel to return. He carried a worn leather bag, kneeling down to open it and sort through clinking bottles. He unraveled some bandages and popped the screw from a glass potions bottle.

"You're handling the pain well," Azriel said, he removed his gloves not looking at you. You couldn't take your eyes off the scars littering every inch of them, the same ones marring your arms.

Before you could stop yourself, "were you under the mountain too?"

taglist: @rcarbo1 , @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97 , @thecraziestcrayon , @i-am-infinite , @krowiathemythologynerd @nebarious

Thanks for all your lovely comments and for reading, Hope you like this chapter :)

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel x original character #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel x female!reader #azriel series #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fic

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slytherin-pen · 3 months

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thank you for all the love on Season of Shadows! i honestly thought i’d post my writing, and my blog would just be a digital portfolio that no one noticed. safe to say it was a lovely surprise and has given me more inspiration! these are my current WIPs that i can’t wait to share <3

Cassian x Reader: You and Cassian found yourselves in a rare argument. Despite being mates, there were certain touchy subjects where you both held differing views. Cassian usually kept his composure around you, mindful of not scaring his beloved mate. But on this occasion, emotions ran high and Cassian's usual restraint slipped away. After taking a break to clear his head, Cassian returns to find you in the midst of a panic attack. Determined to comfort you, he pulls out all the stops to show you just how cherished and secure you are in his arms.

Eris x OC!sister: The Vanserra family had a notorious reputation, but Eris was determined to change the narrative. After seizing power as High Lord and enacting long-awaited reforms, tragedy struck when his sister Sienna was kidnapped. Eris wasted no time calling upon his allies in the Inner Circle and his Day Court heir brother for help. As a High Lord, he was prepared to utilize every resource at his disposal to bring his beloved sister back home. In the process, he planned to remind everyone that Hell hath no fury like a Vanserra.

Season of Shadows (2) Azriel x OC: After careful planning by Ivy and reassurance from Azriel that he truly wants to accompany her, Ivy and Azriel make their way to the Spring Court. After a quick tour, she wanted to help with repairs and according to Azriel, he and his shadows were at her beck and call for whatever she needed. Ivy hadn't been expecting a warm welcome if what happened during her last visit was anything to go by. But neither expected they would cross paths with a certain beast or… High Lord.

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thisblogisaboutabook · 9 months

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The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

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marvelsmylife · 5 months

Text

Meet Poppy’s mom (Rhysand’s sister and Thor’s wife) Rebecca

Rebecca and her mother managed to escape the attack by Tamlin’s father and brothers and ended up in another world (Asgard) where she fell in love with Thor and had Poppy centuries later. Rebecca was distraught when Thor was banished to earth and decided to follow him (along with Poppy) while her mother stayed back in Asgard and ended up getting remarried to a kind Asgardian warrior.

Rebecca and Thor have done everything in their power to hide the fact that Poppy is half fae. But it seems the truth is going to be revealed one night when a small spell to locate Poppy’s soulmate brings someone from Rebecca’s past back into her life and she has to explain why she and her mom never returned to Velaris.

Again this is part of my revamped Soul(mate) story. This is a ex! Steve Rogers x OC (Poppy), Azriel x OC (Poppy).

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Soul(Mates)

#acotar imagine #avengers imagines #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #azriel x original character #steve rogers x original female character

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jollyinmadness · 2 months

Text

Of Canopies and Twines: Chapter 1, Solas | Azriel x OFC

Pairing: Azriel x Original Female Character

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Minor Azriel x Elain. References to sexual thoughts. Very vague references to a genocide. Cursing.

Summary:

When an unknown curse starts spreading through the Night Court's lands, the Inner Circle is forced to seek help in the wisdom of Day's vast libraries. Among the dusty tomes, they are met with a mysterious female who wields magic that may yet be the key to their problem.

Kira, one of the few surviving Purifiers, will have to leave her reclusiveness on the shores of the Continent and learn what her ancestor's vow really means.

Azriel will be forced to reconcile his follies, step out from his shadows and push against his shortcoming with nothing but the scarred skin of his hands.

After years of lucky breaks, will the Inner Circle succeed one last time? Or will their fate rest in the hands of an outsider who has more to lose than gain in helping them?

Then again, the Cauldron is forever being stirred by the Mother and no one escapes the yarn on the embroidery of their lives.

Azriel’s hands were hidden under his armpits as he walked the empty streets of Velaris. The faelights in the Palace of Thread and Jewels still shone brightly, though many of the shops had their doors shut and signs turned to say ‘closed.’

He had just left a seamstress’s shop and regretted not accepting a jacket for the suit Rhysand ordered on his behalf. Despite having many in his closet, Rhysand noted that he only owned outdated ones and needed to, quote, freshen up. After a few adjustments, the seamstress had ushered him into the cold street with a smile, saying she was celebrating tonight and needed to get ready too.

During the longest night of the year, even this part of the town closed down, its habitants retiring to dining rooms with their families. As Azriel passed by houses that hadn’t closed their blinds, he dared to peek in if even for the smallest moment. More often than not, he saw children running around a table while the adults prepared utensils and plates, scolding the little ones for not being careful enough. It caused the corners of his mouth to lift, seeing these people so free of worry that they didn’t even care to draw their curtains.

His feet moved on their own accord, walking the familiar paths. Something unsettled and grew restless inside his bones as he thought of the estate he was heading to. This year, his own family was meeting in the River House to celebrate the Winter Solstice and the attendance was bound to be plentiful.

He had already helped Feyre decorate, while Rhysand looked after little Nyx. This year would mark his first Solstice and everyone was eager to make it the most memorable one. Nyx put up the first decoration on the tree but when he was handed a garland from paper, he had torn it in half which elicited a laugh from Azriel and a gentle scolding from both his parents.

Considering he was Rhysand’s son, he was surely going to be a handful once he learned how to talk back and run away.

During it all, Azriel had noted Cassian’s lack of presence, though his brother was most likely hunting down some last-minute gifts before the shops closed for the evening. And last he heard, his mate was up in the House of Wind, preparing with Emerie and Gwyn. Emerie had been spending the last few days with her and Azriel could tell the Illyrian female felt out of place here even after months of daily training. The priestess, on the other hand, had promised Nesta she would spend the dinner with her, before returning to the Library for the evening service.

Gwyn had shown so much growth since her arrival to Velaris and after the Rite, after she cut the ribbon, Azriel noted how she looked to the sky with a renowned longing. Some of the fear and reluctance had fallen off and in its place had grown courage and curiosity. Perhaps her trip to the River House was a stepping stone.

His mind shifted to the rest that were bound to be present and Azriel wondered what Elain was up to. Whether she was trying on dresses and picking out the ones Azriel would love to see on the ground of his private quarters.

He hadn’t seen her since a few days ago when he had walked past the kitchen in the River House and beared witness to her gentle chuckles. Her hands were covered in flour and his two trusted shadow wraiths talked in hushed voices to her. Not even his shadows were quick enough to catch onto what was being said because when the three had noticed him, their words died down just like their laughter.

Cerridwen and Nuala had sketched a quick bow to Azriel, much to his dismay but Elain only stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. It had made the air in the kitchen warmer and as she offered him a soft smile. He had disappeared into the shadows after nodding at her. Nodding.

What a fool he was, pining after a female who was mated to another male, let alone allowing himself such a visceral reaction to simple things like smiles. Foolish, indeed.

Feyre had mentioned in passing that Lucien was bound to make an appearance during the night. He didn’t let himself feel insulted. The voice inside his head was telling him that Feyre could see right through him and thought him fragile. He didn’t need to be notified of guests, especially Lucien.

Azriel sighed, blowing a white cloud into the biting air and hoped Rhysand had enough chairs for everyone.

A shiver ran through him when, at last, the front gate to the River House appeared at the far end of the street. He quickened his pace, hands pushing the gate open. His dress shoes clicked against the stone walkway leading to the front door and before he reached for the knob, he pulled at his suit. His scarred hand ran through his hair, fixing and making sure he looked presentable before tackling the entirety of the Inner Circle.

The shadows curled around his ear, telling him that everyone was already somewhere in the house except for Amren and Varian, who were Mother-knew where and doing Mother-knew what. Azriel didn’t care enough to know.

With one last inhale, he braced himself for an eventful evening and opened the door. He followed the sound of chatter and bottles clinging to the decorated family room where everyone was gathered.

The first person to notice his entrance was Cassian. “Az, brother, there you are!”

He came up to Azriel, stuffing a crystal glass full of aged rum into his hand and wrapping a shoulder around him. Cassian was already inebriated, Azriel could tell as their wings brushed on accident. Nesta sent subtle stares their way from the corner of the room while nursing a cup of grape juice and making sure he was still standing upright. She made some comment to the two Valkyries near her, making them giggle while watching.

Cassian and Nesta were still considered to be newly mated and Azriel avoided the House of Wind with fervor. Especially after Feyre and Rhysand had given it to them as a mating gift. He had been planning on vacating his room and moving to the Townhouse way before that but he dreaded packing all of the trinkets decorating his shelves. He would have missed the silence too hadn’t it been replaced by sounds of rabid fucking. Even the dining table wasn’t safe from their ministrations and a small part of Azriel grew jealous at it.

“You should stop with the drinks if you plan on participating tomorrow,” muttered Azriel, still cheering his glass with Cassian’s.

Cassian laughed, the sound joyous and open. “I will end your winning streak this year, spymaster.”

“No, I think it will mark my two hundredth win,” Azriel remarks absentmindedly, elbow shoving itself into Cassian’s ribs. Cassian didn’t take to that lightly and while balancing his almost empty glass, he put Azriel into a chokehold with a boom of laughter. He ruffled his hair while promising utter devastation come tomorrow morning.

Cassian’s technique wasn’t sloppy despite being drunk but it took one smooth move for Azriel to free himself and knock back the contents of his glass.

“I would save the energy, Cass,” he told him, unfastening the button on his jacket.

Cassian grinned. “Or I can beat you now and eliminate the competition.”

Before they could begin to play-wrestle, Feyre cleared her throat, staring them down. “No fighting in front of Nyx,” she reminded them. “Besides, Az just arrived and you’re already wrinkling his suit! Get off of him, Cassian.”

“A suit I paid good money for,” whispered Rhys from beside his mate, his ankle resting atop his knee. The tips of Azriel’s ears went red and once he pushed Cassian off, he heard a soft, female chuckle behind him.

Without a thought, he turned his head, his shadows scattering at the sight in the doorway. Words escaped him like they always did in Elain’s presence and instead, he stared down at her.

Her hair was done half-up half-down, decorated with little white flowers she was sure were grown by her own gentle hands. Baby breaths, he recalled her saying. As his face traveled from those brown eyes looking at him with mirth, his breath caught somewhere on its way from his lungs and to his mouth. A light pink dress made of the softest fabric adorned her curves, pooling and shimmering around her feet like a waterfall. The color and the design reminded him of that one time he stayed in the Day Court. Sun had just risen and painted the entire sky a brilliant pink and small puffy white clouds dusted the horizon.

At once, he willed his shadows to enshroud him again and stepped from the doorway, his eyes never leaving hers. His only thought was on that necklace in his breast pocket, still undecided on whether he should give it to her or not. Seeing her, he couldn’t help but notice that the little rose pendant would go perfectly with the dress. There and then, his mind was made. He would put the petite box on the pile later once everyone had gone to sleep.

Somebody behind her cleared their throat and it was the only reason Azriel noticed the fire-haired male.

Lucien’s stare softened considerably as the golden eye shifted from Azriel the moment their eyes met. The emissary chose to ignore him, instead put a gentle hand on Elain’s upper back that Azriel traced with his eyes. As they crossed over the threshold, it was all he could do once the scent of their unaccepted mating bond filled the room.

Sometimes, Azriel thought to himself, the Mother had a cruel sense of humor.

Azriel leaned against the wall, letting the murmur of his shadows take the attention from Elain and Lucien. He listened, ignoring questioning stares from Rhysand and focusing on the sauntering female making her way to the family room.

He turned his head just in time to be met with Mor’s profile appearing in the doorway. She was holding a bottle of wine and smiling, love filling her eyes as they went over everyone present. The familiar faces and the new. Azriel noticed how she took a while to look at the Illyrian female next to Nesta and he noticed Emerie staring right back. He bit back the small smirk fighting to be shown. Though once she had her fill, the last person whom she graced with her glance was Azriel.

They shared a knowing look and at last, it was void of any tension or anxiety. “Hey, Az,” she said, a gentle smile on her lips.

He dipped his chin. “Mor.”

He saw a flurry of brown hair before a muffled “Mor!” was exclaimed into the female’s chest. Mor recoiled due to the impact and suddenly, Feyre was hugging the Morrigan, not caring for propriety in front of guests.

Rhysand’s cousin had been spending more time in Vallahan than in the Night Court, forging alliances and still not succeeding in convincing the Queen to sign the peace treaty. She tried to visit as much as she could and sent many letters through Azriel’s spies concerning the foreign kingdom. He worried for her, hearing just how proud the people in Vallahan were and the schemes the court was prone to.

“Feyre, please, don’t crush me before I can make it through the doorway.”

“I’m so glad you could make it for the dinner,” she murmurs into her chest before pulling away and taking in the red gown Mor had put on. It earned a hum of approval from her High Lady and Mor wiggled her eyebrows, whispering something into Feyre’s ear and making her laugh.

Azriel stepped away, moving further inside the room though the wall was his preferred place. Feyre had handed off Nyx to Elain, who was rocking the baby on her hip while conversing with the Valkyries. Gwyn was wearing her usual priestess robes and cooed at the small Illyrian. The middle Archeron sister was smiling unabashedly, sending something warm trickling down Azriel’s chest.

“Brother,” Rhysand greeted, breaking him out of the reverie and lifting a bottle to fill his glass. With a cocked brow, Rhysand poured the liquor and walked away from Azriel without another word, leaving the shadowsinger hanging in the air.

Rhysand stopped in front of his mate, kissing her temple without sparing Azriel another second of his attention after filling his glass. It left an unsure feeling behind but he brushed it off, convincing himself to have misread the slippage of his brother’s mask.

— ✾ —

It was only after an hour filled with Mor’s complaining about being hungry and Cassian’s grunts of approval that Varian and Amren arrived. Azriel knew the moment Rhysand’s second had walked through the front door of the River House and his shadows notified him that Amren’s lipstick was smudged, and Varian was rubbing a handkerchief along his face.

It made Azriel swear up the Cauldron as he began rethinking his decision to come to this particular family dinner. It wasn’t often that he chose to, rather opting for eating by his lonesome in the House of Wind. The smell of people’s scents mixed in the aftermath of sex was something akin to strangulation and Azriel liked to enjoy his meals without the sensation.

Rhysand turned away from Amren and Varian, clasping his hands together and announcing, “It’s time we feast!”

Cassian whooped alongside of Mor, and they were the first ones on Rhysand’s heels. At the left-hand side of the family room were double doors, too, decorated with garlands and ribbons. Rhysand pushed down on each handle, leading the grand entrance to a refurbished dining room.

Azriel’s shadows skittered around him as they watched everyone enter. In hushed voices, they began counting those walking through the threshold and Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes.

As much as everyone assumed he had complete control over his little shadows, they were sentient creatures fascinated by the simplest things. It wasn’t a coincidence that shadowsingers were oftentimes spies, because while the shadows liked talking, they adored observing and reporting everything to their master whose job was to pick out the important information.

And so, Azriel had to ignore his shadows gushing about a new table that could now fit not ten people but twelve! Once they were sure their master knew of the fact his shadows returned to counting.

There’s four, five, six. Seven. Eight, nine, ten and eleven, and twelve.

Amren had taken the head of the table, leading Varian to sit next to her with their intertwined hands.

Mor chose to be the mediator between Lucien and Elain and ignored all the sideways glances the emissary sent her way as she laid a hand on the back of the chair. The little smile she sent Elain did not escape Azriel either. While everyone had chosen their seats, Azriel entered last, closing the door behind him with his back to the group.

There’s the thirteenth. Such a lucky number.

In all his years spent in Velaris, Azriel failed to remember a time when a dining room was this full. The new table added two extra seats and dwarfed the room in comparison to how it used to be. Everyone made themselves comfortable, shucking off jackets and laying them across the backs of their chairs.

Azriel hadn’t had the chance to pick where he wanted to sit and as he turned to the room, he had come to realize with an odd mix of relief and disdain that his seat was between Nesta and Varian. Pick of the litter, then.

The seats have been specially altered to accommodate winged individuals and while Azriel settled into his chair, he was at least grateful that his closest companions lacked any membranous monstrosities protruding from their backs. Were he sat next to inebriated Cassian, he’d have to focus his attention there and leave his shadows with filling up the blanks.

As food started appearing one plate after another, Azriel took in where the rest of the people were sat. He was facing Feyre and Rhysand, Nyx placed into a tiny chair between theirs. Cassian was occupying the other head of the table and already spoke to Elain in hushed tones to the best of his abilities. To the General’s other side was Gwyn, then Emerie and Nesta. One of his newer shadows notified him that Emerie couldn’t take her eyes from Rhysand’s cousin and that she blushed when their eyes met.

A table of this size offered a lot of variety and where there was space between statement pieces, candelabras and flowers, there was food or drink. Once the sound of cutlery filled the room, the conversation fell off and comments about the food were exchanged. The feast, as Rhysand called it, was truly one for the books.

Oh, the beef. It’s delicious.

Could you hand me more of the potatoes, Lucien?

Is there any more wine on your end of the table?

We should do this more often.

The exchanges appeared awkward to Azriel and the small talk he had to endure from Varian made him want to retreat further into his shadows. All throughout the main course he felt Rhysand’s eyes on him but when he went to meet his High Lord’s stare, he had already turned away.

As the food dwindled and the fae lights dimmed down to a comfortable glow, many different conversations were going on. Feyre talked to Lucien while letting Rhysand feed their son and the Valkyries were explaining their training to Mor, who had been unaware of all the progress the priestesses had made.

Gwyn was in the middle of explaining the new technique that she discovered while helping Merill with her research when she offhandedly mentioned a thing that elicited a groan from Nesta and Emerie.

Cassian, dragged out from his conversation with Elain, drew back. “What? What happened?” he questioned, brows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s the long-lost kingdom again,” explained Nesta and Cassian ah’d with some recognition, nodding along.

Gwyn blushed a deep crimson. "I promised Nesta not to talk about it," she sent a glare to the mentioned female over Emerie's head. "So I won't."

Nesta rolled her eyes but it couldn't be taken seriously because as she looked down, one corner of her mouth was lifted up.

"To talk about what?" asked Feyre from the other end of the table, cutting her conversation with Lucien short. The male was already tilting his body towards the priestess, eyes straying to his mate before focusing wholeheartedly back on Gwyn.

Gwyn met Feyre's kind gaze. "I've finally started my own research and these three hear too much about it."

Something struck Azriel's chest on the left-hand side as he realized he was not included in the explanation. His shadows stilled and watched Gwyn.

"Oh?" mused Feyre back. She settled her chin on the heel of her palm, smiling gently at the priestess. “What is it about?"

Almost taken aback by the attention she was getting from her High Lady, it had taken her a moment to get the words out. "It's this extinct nation– or at least many think it's extinct. They just about fell off the face of this world five hundred years ago."

There were more blank faces around the table as even Amren drew her unsettling gaze to Gwyn. Now, everyone was listening to her and even Elain let her gentle and encouraging eyes rest on her small form.

What a kindness she thinks she’s offering, one shadow hissed and coiled around his ear.

Gwyn’s hand reached up to play with a strand of coppery hair, continuing, "Truly, there are barely any records on its fall, some books on its existence and even less on their emergence."

"You do love a challenge, Gwyn," muttered Nesta, earning a gleaming smile from Gwyn.

"That I do," she responded, almost sheepish. "The last scriptures go back to a few decades before the War. It's unheard of that a kingdom from the continent is not mentioned in writing."

Mor shuffled in her seat, holding the glass of wine in front of her with both hands and offering an inquisitive look to Gwyn. "Is it Severín, by any chance?"

"Yes," she breathed out, the realization that many of them are as old as five hundred dawning over her. "You fought in the War, didn't you?" she asked, this time with more gentleness. She looked to Cassian who was pushing his food around and nodding lightly, the tone of the conversation still easygoing, edging on clinical.

"We all did," stated Mor, her mood growing more serious with each sip she took. "I went there once but decades after it had fallen to aid an old friend."

"You were there for the liberation of Black Land?" she inquired, earning a nod and a small smile from Mor. She had connected the dots fast enough that it pleased her.

"I offered my help to Drakon and Myriam, yes. I would not be wrong to suggest you know who they were."

The use of past tense didn’t escape Azriel.

"Could I—" she started but faltered before she got too ahead of herself. But before she could find better words or consider a better timing, Mor lifted a gentle hand.

"You can ask any questions you want. I'll come to the library tomorrow for a few hours and I'll make sure to find you."

For a moment, Gwyn was left speechless before she stammered out a quick, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she uttered, before looking around the table. "We wouldn't want to bore these people with the recounting of ancient history."

"I, for one," said Feyre pointedly while fixing Nyx's clothes, "would love to hear more about this fallen kingdom. I don't get to read as much anymore."

Nesta bit back a grin, turning to her sister with a goodhearted smile. "Anymore? You were illiterate a few years ago."

A few reluctant giggles escaped the present and even Azriel had to hide his smile. Feyre gasped, resting her palms on the table and looking in feigned disbelief at her oldest sister. Rhysand looked to his wife, a smile splitting his face in half. "And whose fault is that?"

This broke the hesitance, light laughter echoing around the room and even Amren cracked a smirk.

Feyre hummed, letting her chin rest against her palm again. "But about the Black Land... Is it not the same as what Mor said? Severing, or something?"

"Severín, my lady," corrected gently Gwyn, letting Feyre copy the hard r's in her own time. She gave her an encouraging smile once she got it right. "But they're not the same, though they existed in the same place within Rask."

“I think I've seen it on one of the older maps, near where the Wall would be," wondered aloud Feyre and her mate gave her a nod, confirming her guess. "Is it close to that mountain range with a river? The northern one."

"Yes, the Vistula River,” she nodded at Feyre. “There’s a legend involving the Severínians and the river delta. Supposedly, before they ever settled in Rask’s territory, the region was surrounded by a desert and there was no vegetation unless you were close to the seashore. And even then it was only rocky ridges, not fit for cultivating crops.”

“But something changed,” muttered Feyre playfully, enchanted by the story Gwyn was gladly unraveling for her.

“Something did change. ‘When the Severínians finally decided to settle, rivers sprang from the mountains and created a cradle for a new kingdom to rise from.’ It’s a quote from a diary of a Raskan traveler. The name ‘Vistula’ actually means to flow slowly and its roots are in the Severínian language.”

Feyre smiled at the little tidbit of information. “Do we know what urged them to settle there? If there was no life there, it must have been a hard decision to make.”

“I asked myself the same thing! We do know that they were a nomadic people, that their archetypal features were feathered wings. Individuals with pale hair were denoted to have powers. That actually created a new branching in the classification of magic. I saw some scholars give them the title of ‘purifiers.’”

Mor nodded along with the explanation as if everything that came out of Gwyn’s mouth was just confirmation of something she had already known.

“They had a so-called affinity for ‘life’ and it was sought after by many rulers at that time. They could grow crops within a few hours which would otherwise take months under normal circumstances. They made for very good healers and menders and no one had ever described them as violent. Actually, they were quite a docile people. One of their saying was something along the lines of ‘to live is to be gifted and to serve is to protect.’”

“Do you think they had never settled before because someone would have come to take their freedom away—simply because of what they possessed?” asked Feyre again with a thoughtful expression.

“Perhaps,” agreed Gwyn calmly and judging by her change of expression, the silence around the table came to her with a force of a thousand bricks. Alarmed, she looked around at the present and realized that everyone, including Amren, was fully focused on what she was saying. Shadows notified Azriel that Varian on his right had sent Gwyn a smile before saying that he had never known anything about this kingdom.

“Rask had never taken lightly to someone encroaching on their territory. They might be the reason why this kingdom has been ‘wiped’ from the collective memory,” offered Rhysand.

Mor scoffed, agreeing with her cousin. “Especially if they offered refuge to humans who could have been a workforce in their salt mines instead.”

“Refuge?” Feyre turned her attention to Mor, brows furrowed. “What do you mean by refuge?”

The blonde female looked to her High Lady, skillfully avoiding Lucien’s whirring gold eye. “Before their fall and before Rask had turned it into Black Land, they allowed humans to live side by side with them and even earn their keep. It was unheard of at that time since most of the Courts even in Prythian considered humans slaves.”

“The talks of human rights were nothing but murmurs within chosen circles,” concluded Rhysand, swirling the wine in his cup. “Shame, Severín could have made for good allies during the War.”

“They would not have fought,” spoke up Amren all of a sudden, surprising even Rhysand into stumped silence.

He frowned, facing his second and declared, “You are right. They wouldn’t have but they were the only example of Fae and mortals living in peace together. That could have made a difference.”

“The fools were so in love with peace, they wouldn’t have sided with foreigners even if it cost them their lives. Which it did anyway.”

Azriel thought to himself that it was perhaps the biggest reaction Amren had given in the past year and since the day she crawled out of the Cauldron. It wasn’t often that this ancient female chose to speak her mind but something had grated against her at the mention of this long-lost kingdom.

“Rask is a nation of conquerors,” said Amren, her hand playing with a ruby necklace adorning her collarbone. It twinkled in the candlelight of the table and the danger of her eyes. “They wouldn’t have given in where they didn’t have to.”

Mor sucked on the inside of her cheek before responding, “So they chose to sack a peaceful people?”

“Their feud wasn’t just some baseless thing, dusted over by centuries of anger. Those Severínians,” she had spat out the name like spoiled food, “had settled in Raskan territory, knowing damn well where they were.”

“They were the ones who created life there, not Rask,” argued Mor.

Amren’s ageless gaze moved sideways. “So the legend goes.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

She sat up, leaning on her elbows and zeroing in on Mor with a poise of a predator. “What I mean, Morrigan, is that not everything written in those books and scriptures is fact. It takes one desperate generation to rewrite what has truly happened.”

“Are you insinuating that those people deserved getting slaughtered?”

Amren bared her teeth. “All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t let someone with that magic anywhere near me. It’s not of this world and trust my word, I would know.”

Azriel’s shadows had stilled with the exchange, murmurs of questions and curiosity filling his ears. He just watched on as Mor and Amren exchanged heated glances, bared their teeth. Between them, Feyre massaged the space between her brows and when Rhysand laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, she had shook it off.

“Please,” said Feyre, gaze still downturned. “Don’t argue. Not tonight and not over something meaningless.”

Within the plead was hiding something more. It wasn’t often that Feyre could just sit down and dine with all of her close friends. She had a child to take care of, she taught children in the city how to paint and see the beauty of the world through the medium of the brush and when she came home, she was still a mother and a High Lady with obligations. The last thing she wished for was an argument—on her birthday, nonetheless.

On her other side, even Lucien had sent worrying glances her way.

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” murmured Mor, though Amren remained silent. Azriel supposed that it was the biggest apology they would get from her, considering she had never once explained herself to anyone. All she deigned herself to do was meet Feyre’s eyes and nod as if she was heeding a command from her High Lady.

The Inner Circles and the rest had grown quiet, their eyes as if stuck to their plates. Only Azriel was still looking up and around, noticing how awkward it had gotten and wishing it was socially acceptable to winnow from this room.

From the other end of the table, Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Varian, do you think I could visit this summer? I swear not to shatter another building.”

The laugh from Varian was a little choked and aware of the diversion Cassian had tried to make. “I don’t know if my cousin has lifted your ban.”

“Not even after everything?”

“I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “But Cresseida and I will put in good word for you.”

With a wink from Varian, Cassian laughed, exclaiming, “Atta boy!”

Elain, from Cassian’s side, leaned in and asked with a small voice meant for him only, “How did you get banned from the Summer Court?”

Those who already knew laughed along as Cassian dived into a dramatized retelling of that fateful day in Adriata.

— ✾ —

The River House had finally fallen quiet after the eventful Winter Solstice dinner and the following party. The faelights had been dimmed to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadows of the longest night of the year.

Amren, Mor and Varian had finally gone to bed but Azriel found himself still lingering downstairs.

He knew he should get some sleep. He would need it come dawn for the snowball battle at the cabin. After everyone had retired back to the family room, Cassian had mentioned no less than six times that he had a secret plan regarding his so-called impending victory. Azriel had let his brother boast, especially since he had been planning his own win for a year now.

Cassian wouldn’t know what was coming for him. And Azriel planned on capitalizing on the fact that Nesta likely wouldn’t let Cassian sleep much tonight.

Azriel snickered to himself and the ever-restless shadows around him stirred, gazing out to the family room.

Sleep, they had whispered in his ear and a sense of deep-set exhaustion crawled over his bones again.

I wish I could, he comforted them silently. But sleep rarely found him these days.

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated as it pulled taut over his muscles. And so he chose to sleep only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

Azriel surveyed the empty room from the hallway, the presents under the tree and the ribbons littering the furniture. There were two dirty glasses on the mantel of the fireplace, smeared lipstick on one and nothing on the other.

Nesta and Cassian hadn’t reappeared in the house, though that came as no surprise. They were among the first ones to leave and Azriel’s shadows had notified him of his brother carrying Nesta to the House of Wind mere minutes after Rhysand had winnowed her friends out.

He was elated for him and yet Azriel was never able to stop it—the green envy in his chest of Cassian, of Rhys. Cauldron, even of Amren. He knew he would be swallowed by that never-ending despair if he went to his bedroom, and so he chose to remain down here by the dying light in the fireplace.

The room lacked the bustle and laughter it had enshrined for the last couple of hours. Now the silence grew heavy and the stillness of his bedroom began crawling between the walls and into the family room. He clutched his fingers around the jacket on his forearm, letting it dissolve into shadows.

Azriel removed himself from the doorway, entering the hall and walking soundlessly to the foyer.

Soft steps padded from the stair archway and there she was.

The faelights gilded across Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. Again, the image from the Day Court had appeared before his eyes and as she halted, her breath caught in her throat.

“I…” He watched her swallow. She clutched her fingers around a small box. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to put it there earlier.”

A lie. At least the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She had waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she would leave her gift among his other, unopened presents. Subtle and unnoticed, she wanted him to find it in the morning and after the snowball battle. Perhaps she had hoped he would pocket the little box, open it in the privacy of his room and away from the prying eyes of his family.

Elain closed the distance and her breathing quickened as she paused a scant foot away. “No trouble in giving it to you now, I guess. Here.” She extended the wrapped gift, her hand trembling.

Azriel fought hard not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn’t bought her mate a present, he recalled. When his shadows went over the gifts, they had divulged this precious detail to him. He hadn’t gotten one this year nor last but she went through the trouble of buying something for him. She had given Azriel a headache powder a year ago which he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use but just to look at. Something he had done every night he had slept there—or rather attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days. -Elain, and then opened the lid.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..."

He hadn’t had the heart to tell he was going to move from the House soon and so unable to suppress his impulse, he just chuckled. “You wouldn’t want me to open this in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.”

As he closed the box and stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers, he returned her smile. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present…”

He had left the rest unspoken as he reached into his shadows. Her mate was here, sleeping only a level above them and he had been present all throughout the evening, not once leaving the room before Elain had retired for the night. The scent of their mating bond had filled Azriel’s lungs and even if he had positioned himself to a far corner, it would still reach his nostrils, tickling something wicked that called for unfairness.

Though tonight, here in the dark and silence, there was only the two of them and he supposed it was fair at last to give her this one thing. Despite wanting to give much more.

He pulled the velvet box out, letting his shadows open it for her. Once revealed, they scattered to the back of his neck in a moment’s time.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin and his shadow retreated even further, almost completely disappearing. They and their murmurs had always been prone to vanish when she was around and so did his voice of reason.

The golden chain was unremarkable and the amulet tiny enough to be dismissed as an everyday charm. Weeks ago, he had escaped the House of Wind and found himself walking through the Palace of Thread and Jewel. A vendor had waved him over from the crowd, choosing Azriel to present his newest invention. When he told him to hold it up to the sun, Azriel was rendered speechless once the true depth of colors became visible and it reminded him of her. It was a thing of secret, lovely beauty, just like the female before him.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Azriel watched her face tentatively as she lifted the necklace from the box. The fae lights shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm aglow with hues of red, pink, white and green.

Azriel let his shadow swallow the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

The everlasting murmurs in his head slowed to a still. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her neck.

He knew it was wrong but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. He let his scarred fingers touch her unmarred skin, letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took his sweet time fastening the clasp.

Azriel's hand lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch, until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Wrong—it was so wrong. The murmurs returned with fervor but he didn’t care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck felt like. What those lips tasted like, her breasts, her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue—

The fabric of Azriel’s pants began straining against his will. It ached so fiercely he could only pray she didn’t peer down. Pray she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He would only allow himself these thoughts in the dead of night, when everyone had fallen asleep and when no one, not even his shadows, could bear witness to his selfishness.

Elain bit her lower lip and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint not to free it with his own.

“I should go,” Elain said but made no move to leave. She was still peering up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping long strokes along the side of her neck. The gentle brush sent a shiver down Elain’s spine and as her arousal drifted up to him, his eyes nearly fell shut. If he could, he would drop to his knees in front of her, asking her to let him worship her body. But Azriel settled for stroking her neck. For now.

She shuddered, drifting closer. So close, one deep breath would brush up her chest again his upper stomach. She was looking up at him, face so open and unafraid as if he could deliver her to the lands of milk and honey. Azriel wouldn’t put it past himself to try.

Still, her naivety hadn’t escaped those incessant murmurs of his own. They scratched their talons against his reserve, reminding him that the hand brushing her neck had done unspeakable things. Who was he to touch her like this?

It should be a sacrilege for his rough, scarred fingers to rest on her skin, to taint her with his presence.

He could have this, right?

Azriel wouldn’t admit it to anyone ever but he was a selfish bastard and he would allow himself to have this one moment of reverie. If only to drive away his curiosity. But afterward, he promised himself to keep a hold on himself, he would go back to restraint. This single occasion would be it for him. Something to keep, something to remember during those long, dark and lonesome hours.

“Yes," Elain breathed like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission. He nearly sighed in relief as he lowered his head toward hers.

Azriel.

Rhysand’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet and awaiting mouth.

Azriel.

The unrelenting command was an undercurrent to his name and Azriel looked up. Atop the staircase, Rhysand stood with a clenched jaw and a glower pointed at him and only him.

My office. Now.

Rhysand vanished into thin air and Azriel was left standing there, the prickle of being watched and observed still skipping along his skin. Elain who stood before him was still awaiting his lips on hers. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back so their breaths would mix no longer.

He forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.”

Something had his throat in a vice, whether it was a need or the shame at being called on like a dog, he didn’t know. He was only aware of the strained sentence coming out and Elain opening her eyes. They widened, filling with hurt and confusion before she whispered a single, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t– Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize, it’s I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness in her face that he was the reason for. “Goodnight.”

Azriel winnowed himself into shadows before he could hear what she had to say if anything. He appeared only a heartbeat later in front of Rhysand’s study. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain was already retreating upstairs. Shame washed over him and he ran a hand over his face.

He pushed the dark, heavy door to reveal Rhysand at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face.

He asked softly and only once, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel let the door shut behind him and didn’t even think of sitting down in the chair facing the monstrous desk littered with papers and memos. Azriel thinned his mouth at the question. He was always sparse with words and wasn’t going to stop the habit now.

His brother looked at him in exasperation, as if not believing what he was seeing. Upon closer inspection, the lines on Rhysand’s face were longer and shadows lingered in the space below his eyes. But even despite the tired appearance, his power rolled around him like a dark cloud in an ominous reminder.

“I asked you something, Azriel.”

Azriel joined his hands behind his back, saying, “What do you want me to say?”

Rhysand’s frown should have been an answer enough. “I want you to explain why I saw you about to kiss Elain in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger his way. “Including her mate.”

Azriel scoffed. Of course, he would mention Lucien. It wasn’t often that Azriel’s hackles rose and he allowed them to. But when he met his brother’s eyes with rage, he knew Rhysand could match him a thousand times over. His glare had crossed with its violet twin as the air grew heavier and heavier. The siphon on his chest that he kept glamoured vibrated in answer to the challenge.

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

“Don’t talk to me about Mor,” he bit out.

“I’m going to talk to you about whatever I damn wish. Especially if you go about your delusions like that.”

Azriel chose to ignore that last bit if only to keep some of his sanity. This male before him had been his friend for over five centuries. They have bled, cried and laughed beside each other. He would never lie to him and never spare his feelings. And Rhysand was right, after all. The little voice in the back of his mind had always been right too and the way Rhysand was scowling at him was all the confirmation he needed.

He glared at his shadowsinger. “If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend the bond as he sees fit. Including the Blood Duel.”

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.”

The duel had historically been enacted in rare cases and ended only when the other person was dead. There was no yielding, no three taps and out. There were only two fighters and no titles could help once the Blood Duel had been invoked. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he had found Mor all those years ago. He had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris, prepared to kill them or die with them. But it was Mor’s right to claim their heads that had stopped him and he would never do her the dishonor of taking that choice away.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you,” reminded him Rhysand.

“I would win,” he stated, pure conviction lacing every word.

“I know.” It was a bitter sense of acceptance that dawned on Rhysand’s face. “Your doing so would rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court but also the Spring Court. Jurian and Vassa, too.” Rhys looked up from where his hands were joined in front of his face. “You will leave Elain alone.”

Azriel neared one step closer to Rhysand’s desk. “You can’t order me to do that.”

The High Lord took in that step and thinned his lips. “I can and I will. If not to protect you three from a world of hurt, then to protect this Court. I watched you tonight and half the evening you had your eyes glued to Elain and the other half, you were lost in your thoughts. And if I caught onto it, then Lucien did too. You better mind yourself, brother. You’re losing focus.”

Azriel snarled softly against his best judgment.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhysand leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

Rhysand had rarely considered punishment, let alone threatened it. It stunned Azriel enough to knock him out of his rage and into incredulity. His brother avoided his gaze, grabbing a pen and focusing on the papers on his desk. Even as he looked down, his eyes weren’t scanning the words written there. His hand with the wedding ring shook slightly when he ran it through his hair.

“Get out, Az,” he said, more gently under his breath but Azriel heard it all right. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With no further words from Rhysand or himself, Azriel walked out of the study, pushing himself to keep a calm pace, though he wanted to storm out. He tucked in his wings, walked down the stairs and past the spot where his and Elain’s mouth had almost met. His eyes were focused forward, shadows swirling around him and sensing the distress of their master. Once he pushed through the front door and into the frigid air, he let it consume him.

The white clouds escaping his mouth were the only sign he was alive because as he passed the gate, he stood still. Too still. The River House towered behind him and the light in Rhysand’s study went out.

How his brothers used to fear being chained down by the ankles. They had joked with Azriel, saying he would be the first to settle and that their fleeing nature would never allow them to stay still for one female.

But they had grown, changed over time while Azriel stayed behind, hoping that the relationship they shared would remain unchanged.

As Azriel kept standing in the cold, he let it permeate past his suit. Down through his skin and to the marrow of his bones. There was no jacket to ward off the chill—all by his choice. There was no one to run to and Azriel wondered if that was his choice too.

Taglist:

this is being crossposted to ao3 so make sure to show some love there too, if you feel so inclined!

omg hi to whomever is reading this work ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

thank you for taking the time out of your day to sit down with this, be it on your commute, after a long day at school or whatever other downtime you have!! i am very honored and i hope i can entertain.

i'm very pumped to get this out and into the world. this oc has been stuck in my head for like over a year, i swear. maybe even perhaps when the bonus chapter of acosf with azriel first dropped ! the ideas of the plot and scenes just kept coming to me in random moments throughout these last 12 or so months. it felt like i was being shaken by my shoulder and someone was screaming into my face to, "write this one, goddammit!!!!!"

so here i am, appeasing some azriel-obsessed part of me.

since his character is very… open to interpretation due to the utter lack of anything (looking at you, SJM), i'm going to take certain liberties with his personality and motivations. so this might be slightly OOC, but i'll make sure that this is tagged on my ao3.

enjoy, my lovelies. i'll be grateful for any comments, tips or questions. if you think something could have been done differently, don't ever be afraid to comment on it. i am very open to criticism as bettering my craft is one of my biggest goals with this. my inbox is open (i think).

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