#Cassian? better off with Rhys dead

[flowerflamestars]

Fix-it fic snippet

“Faebane,” Nesta purred, stepping into the room, “Doesn’t work on us.”   Morrigan hands- empty- pressed flat to the desk. “I didn’t do this.”   “No,” Nesta agreed, easily, enough so that Morrigan’s head shot up, incredulous face stark in the light melting on to purple. “But it happened in your territory.”   Morrigan tossed her head, showy enough the ends of her hair whipped past the purple light into green. “What do you want? Compensation? Blood, now that you’re Autumn? Will the heads of whoever was stupid enough to attack you work?”   “I took their hearts,” Nesta said, “Actually.”   Burnt from the inside out, obliterated by the same eternal thing as Cauldron water, sparked back to life by Eris.   She saw the exact moment Morrigan paid enough attention to note the Illyrian blood. Reeking despair, Eris’s cruel, maintained cunning, and pain. Fear. They’d called her a witch and tried to kill her husband- they had only been tools, but Nesta didn’t have it in her to regret their terror either.   Fury left no room.   Morrigan leant into the light, shutting her eyes for a single, vulnerable moment. Pink, purple, green, blue- the color sang from her pale, pale hair, no glamour wrought to make the gold sun bright here, in the middle of the night.   “Can I get a drink?” Morrigan snapped, stress suddenly present. “Or are you going to rip out my heart, if I move?”   Nesta rolled her eyes. “Why would I want it?”   Answer was Morrigan pushing off the ridiculous desk, storming to a dark corner of the huge room, where Nesta assumed liquor lived. She could smell it sharp bright sweet, even before Mor, ruddy cheeks visible even in shifting light, stomped back and shoved a glass into her hand. “There,” Morrigan snarled, “Hospitality.”

[acourtofmenandthirst]

The Throne

Cassian x Reader, where your mate shares his insecurities, then fucks the ever loving shit out of you

Warnings: smut, battle (fighting, killing) - I’m bad at writing battle sequences, idk why I wrote one lmao

Word Count: 5.1K

Cassian hadn’t sat atop a throne before. 

He didn’t think he would, quite honestly. He didn’t have a problem with that, either. In his 500 years of living, it was always Rhys who was set to be on the throne, Cassian flanking one side, Azriel the other. 

Cassian didn’t need the power - he had seven siphons for Cauldron’s sake - surely, that was enough. He didn’t want the power, nor the responsibility. He was by far intimidating enough without the status and the crown. His façade was difficult to keep up with just as Rhysand’s General: directing the Illyrians training, acting as courtier, keeping Windhaven in line. Playing politics was never his strong suit and he had his hands plenty full.

But he was a bastard born brute. Many people had reminded him of it - even multiple times in one day. While being told he would amount to nothing his whole life, that he would be better off dead, he always wondered in the back of his mind, what it truly felt like to sit atop that throne and be better than everyone else. 

He felt guilty for just the thought alone. 

It wasn’t something he had intended to share with anyone. That little tiny insecurity of his - that somehow turned out to be not so tiny, and now, not so secret. 

It was only in finding his equal did he finally allow someone into the deepest darkest depths of his mind. Cassian knew he was an open book - he didn’t inherently try to be, and Rhys had warned him about it before. Of course, he’d had these types of conversations with his brothers. But hell, even Eris could see his insecurities as if he were waving them across the room on a flag. 

It was with you, however, that Cassian had been free to speak to you about this. It wasn’t that Cassian had wanted to be perceived better than anyone else exactly, but to hold that authority over someone… he had power, that was the thing. 

But he was still Rhysand’s dog. 

It was the respect he wanted. 

It came after being holed up in Windhaven for months. He had come home to you in an altered state. Depressed, utterly exhausted after being beat down day after day. No respect: every order was challenged, all his subordinates untrusting of him after the last war.

Cassian had found you, nearly crushing you in the bear hug he swept you up into upon his arrival. His wings wrapped around you both, cocooning you in his safety, as if he would shield any outside intrusion so as not to disturb this moment. 

You felt ice radiating off his wings and skin, his flight home not only bitterly cold, but also hurried, the fast winds whipping around him harsher as he bolted home as quickly as his wings would carry him. And when he arrived home, you were so warm. Warmer than he remembered, in fact. His hands ran across the skin of your back, shoved under your thick sweater, to feel you against his hands. 

After days of fucking, not leaving the bed - save for a few baths and, of course, making love against the wall, on the desk, on the floor in front of the fireplace - he finally calmed enough to discuss his months away. You could tell something was weighing him down, that his mind had been pulling itself in a thousand different directions - but he was so relieved to be out of there, to be home with you, to be home in you. 

“I don’t like going back there,” he breathed, mouth brushing against the top of your head, words stirring your hair. It wasn’t something he said often, or at all, really. It was known that Azriel had strong distaste for both camps, but it was expected to be more of Cassian’s realm. He was afraid to let Rhys know his true distaste for staying there because he knows this is his job. He needed to stay there to earn the trust of his men, to keep everyone in line, to make sure they were trained. They were his responsibility, their lives were in his hands - quite literally. “I know I have to, but I just can’t help…” he trailed off, arms wrapping tighter across your back and shoulders. “I don’t know.” He huffed a breath of frustration. 

You pressed a kiss to his pectoral, where your cheek was currently nuzzled against, listening to his heartbeat thrum softly deep in his chest. You hummed quietly, an acknowledgement that you were listening, giving him time to find the right words to continue. 

He sat quietly for many moments, letting his thoughts pass as he searched for the right one. You almost shut your eyes, barely able to keep them open in such late hours of the night. “I’m so powerless there.” 

You turned up to face him, propping your elbow on the mattress beside him, staring into his hazel eyes. You wanted to tell him he was wrong. He was the most powerful Illyrian, most accomplished General in Night Court history. He has earned the respect of this Court and those beyond, he fought with his men, and had honored those who had fallen - whether they were his soldiers or not. You’d seen him in battle, seen him stand in front of his warriors, leading them, never faltering. But he continued, and you knew he needed to vent. “They don’t see me as anything beyond the bastard I was thrown in as. General or not, I have no true hold in those lands.” 

Not like Rhys. 

It had remained unspoken, the both of you knew what was implied. There was no inherent respect given to the High Lord’s two friends. They’d earned it all. Fought and bled and killed for it - for their rightful places along Rhysand. 

But no matter how much Cassian proved himself, time and time again, he wasn’t the High Lord. He was appointed by the High Lord to lead his armies. 

When Rhys commanded armies, there were no questions. No snarky remarks or questioning looks. 

Rhys exuded power. 

Cassian did not wear a crown. He did not sit atop a throne. He did not have the Court of Nightmares bowing at his feet. 

He didn’t want that. 

“I just want… respect.”

And that hurt. To hear the warlord’s voice just barely a whisper, afraid. By no means was he power hungry. The male had fought and sacrificed alongside his men and had his wings torn to shreds on what seemed to be a regular basis. It seemed to go unnoticed, under appreciated. Not that he ever wanted any praise for his sacrifice, perhaps a younger bigger-headed Cassian once did, but not now - now all he wanted was some gods-damned thanks.

“You have an impossibly hard job, Cass.” The proper words seemed to fail you at that moment. Cassian was not normally so vocal about his insecurities or about his challenges at work. The latter was usually saved for private meetings with his brothers, the former topic meant only for his mate’s pointed ears. 

“It’s a frustrating job,” he corrected, head falling back against the pillow. He huffed out a sigh and curled his arm around your back, holding you tighter to his side. You hooked a leg over his, settling again beside him. “One that I’m due back at tomorrow.” 

You giggled at the absolute dread in his tone. “But I get to come with you this time,” you hummed.

He grumbled a response, obviously displeased - he had fought with Rhysand (with words and fists) for you to stay out of tomorrow’s events. A siege on the nearly destroyed Spring Court. The Court had remained in disarray after the war and the remainder of Hybern’s army intended to make a move on the lands to use as a camp. Azriel had picked up word that Tamlin’s castle was still a wreck, unguarded and half-standing; making it the perfect place for some haphazard lodging before the next attack. 

Cassian made it very clear he didn’t want you there - he didn’t want any of them there, in fact. But there were still many innocent Fae in Spring; Rhys had agreed to help - perhaps in return for Tamlin saving his life. While it was expected to be just as dangerous as the first battles of the war, Cassian was still dreading seeing Kier and Devlin, and many of the higher ranking officers that had developed a need to disrespect the General. It was those comments and questioning that set a bad example for the other soldiers that could lead to distrust amongst the warriors. “So you’ll see it first hand then.” 

You pinched his hip. “You want me to beat up the big bad males who sass you?”

He stifled a laugh, rolling his eyes to himself. This is why you’re my mate, he couldn't help but think to himself. Always knew how to make him laugh when he was down, but he knew you were also dead serious - and you would be able to kick their asses, too. “You’ll have your work cut out for you then,” he whispered. Cassian pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled the heavy blanket further up over your shoulders and back. “Get some rest, my love. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

________________________________________________________________

And how busy it was. 

Turned out the Hybern’s soldiers had already infiltrated the Spring Court, setting up camp throughout Tamlin’s whole estate. It was a battle from start to finish - the moment you’d all crossed the border, the opposing army, while not expecting you, still attacked on sight. They had not been able to get word sent for back-up quickly enough, which led to a swift assault on the remainder of the army.

The Inner Circle had split up in pairs, Cassian and yourself in charge of the East Wing. The halls were eerily empty, wide and gilded in gold. Mud covered the ornate carpets, flecks of brown dirt and red blood flecked the marble and walls. You both held your swords at the ready, Cassian held an Illyrian shield in the other, walking a half step behind you, allowing himself to track your movement. He kept you in his peripheral vision, noting how you fiddled with the string of the Illyrian bow strung across your back, waiting for any surprise attack. He carefully inspected each hall and doorway, ensuring neither of you missed any hidden warriors.

But at the end of the hall, the large golden doors swung open, and soldiers poured out. With a shout, Cassian lunged ahead, sword clashing with those who ran towards you; the males gilded in armor swung at your mate. Metal met metal with a large clash, and you sprinted up behind Cassian to cover his back as the warrior attempted to surround him. 

But he was too fast - he was too fast and they were too slow, still worn from the previous battle. Without a true leader they had lost their conditioning, it seemed as though some had lost sight of why they were fighting. Either that, or coming face to face with the General of the Night Court Armies indeed made their blood run cold. A handful of males gave up on the fight, seeing how Cassian’s sword cut cleanly through the male that challenged him, and ran past you down the hall. While you had half a mind to sink arrows deep in their backs - repayment for what they had done to your friends and family throughout the war - you let the cowards run; Rhys and Amren would deal with them later. 

Not lost in thought for too long, your sword met another, one carried by a large soldier who - smartly - maneuvered past Cassian and toward you. You worked quickly to bring him to his knees, slashing at his lower body, before finishing the job. You pulled your bow free from over your shoulder before sheathing your blade down your back. Pulling an arrow free, you began working on the males pouring from the entryway before you, who all had their sights on your mate. 

One by one they fell, your arrows flying true through their necks or unhelmeted heads. It never ceased to amaze you: how Cassian could fight off three men at once with just one sword in his hand. He moved swiftly, something surprising for how built that male truly was - must be due to all that gods-damned stretching he was always doing. You would never be able to grasp how any male would be ballsy enough to challenge him. He oozed power and strength - his reputation alone was enough to have these soldiers running away from him. But you didn’t have much time to spend gawking at him, surely you could watch him sword fight with his brothers later. 

You advanced to meet him, still shooting arrows at the males who advanced toward Cassian. You stepped between fallen bodies, grabbing arrows sticking out from the bodies on the ground, only to shoot them farther down the hall a few steps later. The last males trickled out the door - easily dropped to the ground by Cassian - before the entryway was slammed shut. 

Cassian took a sideways glance at you, before plucking the remaining arrows from the other males around him. He handed them to you, the siphon atop his hand glowing bright red in the dimly lit hall. He looked down at you, flecks of blood painted his grey helmet, his olive skin dotted with sweat. Those hazel eyes roamed over your body, while asking gruffly: “You okay?”

You nodded, rolling your shoulders to disperse the burning. It had been a few weeks since you had practiced with your bow, and the taught Illyrian string was not easy to pull. You’d need an ice bath if you had any hope of saving your shoulders. That would come later, though. You tucked the sticky, bloody arrows back in your holster, and rubbed your palms on your leathers, ridding them of the slick blood and sweat. 

“They’re barricading the door,” he huffed, mimicking your action and shrugging his own shoulders in preparation. You readied yourself with an arrow, sliding it between your fingers and pulling your shoulders taught. You stepped back and gave him a stiff nod, one that he mirrored as he dropped into his stance. 

Cassian lurched forward, slamming his armored shoulder against that golden door. It heaved open with a grunt, and before he could even rise to his full height, you released your arrow directly through the face of the warrior before him. His sword fell with a loud crash and he slumped to the ground, along with the male behind him, whose skull now bore the arrow. 

Your mate rose, towering over most of the remaining soldiers flocking toward him as he worked away, movements so fluid as evidence of 500 years of the strictest training. He slashed and slayed away at the crowd, ruby red syphons glaring, near blinding, as he worked his way through the males. 

You carved yourself a path forward, literally cutting down the soldiers in your path. It seemed two more took his place. 

Willfully though, you made it to your mate, relishing the sight as his back met eyeline. You turned backwards toward him, throwing a few daggers in the males that made for a surprise attack against Cassian. 

Darkness entered the room, blinding you. 

You felt the cool tendrils of shadow curl against your cheek, and instinctively backed up against Cassian. His wings settled as bodies next to you dropped. You shifted backwards until you felt the curve of his back against your shoulder blades, brushing against the underside of his wings. 

His breath settled as the males around you dropped their weapons, surrendering. The few that remained were walked out - dragged out - by Azriel’s shadows and Rhys orders. As the room cleared, Cassian joined his brothers in taking the prisoners to gods knew where. You surveyed the perimeter of the room, collecting your arrows and inspecting their forgotten swords. 

Your mate joined you eventually, wandering his own way through the mess of casualties. 

But the Lord of Bloodshed stood atop the platform, shoulders heaving, helmet tucked underneath his arm. His armor felt heavy, chest tight in the onset of soreness from wielding the heavy Illyrian sword. He turned his back on the scene before him, slain bodies littering the grand space; the spared soldiers had already moved the wounded, leaving a sea of weapons and spilt blood. 

He stood face to face with the golden throne, plush red fabric adorning the seat, embellished with the finest Spring jewels. 

You gave up on surveying the surroundings, kicking the boxes of supplies to the ground before making your way across the room. He heard you approach, yet instead of turning around, he took one step forward and sat atop the throne, his bright eyes flitted up to you only a moment later. His helmet was long forgotten beside him, his legs spread slightly outward, his impossibly large frame filling the throne perfectly. 

Your steps slowed, heavy boots now nearly soundless as you reached your endgame, stopping just short in front of the platform. There was something primal that battle and pure bloodshed brought out in the Illyrian male. You’d noticed it with all the Illyrian men - it seemed all logic could be thrown out the window, replaced with adrenaline, bloodlust, and need. Pure, utter, need. 

Cassian raised a hand to you, beckoning you over with a curl of his finger; he lifted his hips, pushing them forward on the chair, slouching further. The scent of his arousal filled the room and as you dropped your eyes from his, you saw the evidence pressing up against his tight leathers. 

You clenched your own legs together at the sight. His dark hair clung to his temples and fell in waves at his shoulders. His strong jaw was tipped downward at you, gazing at you from under his brow with half lidded eyes. Despite you climbing the platform, now standing before him sat on that gods-forsaken throne, he exuded power over you. 

You sucked in a breath and sank to your knees before your mate. 

His chest heaved, releasing a baited breath as your hand fumbled with the ties of his pants, fingertips fumbling around, grazing over the bulge before you. You bit your bottom lip, feeling how hard he was against your touch, maybe taking a bit longer than normal to undo it. Once fully unlaced, you moved his leathers just enough to pull his cock out, taking him firmly in your hand and admiring it with a loving stroke. 

He hissed behind his teeth, staring down at you with what could almost be a scowl - his dark brows furrowed, cheeks hollowed, and jaw set. He clenched his teeth as your hand moved up and down his dick, gathering the precum from his tip and spreading it all the way down the length of him, all the way down to the curly hairs at the base. His eyes narrowed down at you as you smiled up at him, toying with your mate, making him wait for something he so clearly needed.

“You can do better than that.” His voice was gruff, darker than you had heard it before. 

“You just feel so good,” you murmured, so low you weren't quite sure if he heard you. You brought your other hand up, wrapping your fingers around his thick base as the other worked at the tip, moving up and down and twisting just how he liked. 

“Taste better,” he huffed, fists clenched atop the golden arms of the throne. 

You smirked up at him, licking his tip and placing a kiss right under. His hips jerked, almost as though he’d never been touched like that before. Adrenaline still surged through his veins; his heart hadn’t stopped racing since you all had crossed into Spring. He’d take this over allergies any day.

You took him in your mouth, hands still twisting what you couldn’t take all the way in, and sucked, bobbing your head up and down. He dropped his head against the throne, sighing a breath of relief as you worked your way farther and farther down his cock. You moved up and down, up and down, until your nose brushed the dark hair at the base.

You released him with a sudden pop and smiled up at him, eyes bright, spit running down your chin. 

His heart swelled at the sight before him. His heart swelled and his cock twitched.

“Fuck, you’re not done yet, baby.”

You smiled wider at Cassian above you, opening your mouth and sliding your tongue up his shaft, holding his gaze as you made it to the tip. “More, Cassian,” you breathed. His name on your tongue always did something to him - he didn’t know what it was. It fell so perfectly from your lips. 

With a smirk, his hand snaked down to your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek briefly, before he pressed it against your wet lips. You sucked it into your mouth, dragging your tongue against the pad of his thumb before he pulled it from your mouth and dragged it against your lower lip. You followed his lead, and as he moved his hand to the back of your neck, your mouth returned to his dick, sucking the head between your lips, offering a lick as you just did to his thumb. 

His fingers snaked through your hair and he applied pressure to the back of your head, pushing you farther down on his cock. “You take me so well,” he crooned, nudging his hips upward slightly. He hit the back of your throat, and you hummed in response, the vibrations tickling the tip of his dick. He released you slightly and you brought your head up, still sucking at the tip, taking a deep breath through your nose. 

As you moved back down, so did Cassian’s hand as he pressed you against him once again, this time lifting his hips once, twice, three times. You lifted up again, taking another breath before allowing him free reign to fuck your face.

And, boy, did he. 

Lewd sounds filled the room, spit collected around your mouth and at the base of his dick. Your throat burned, trying not to choke but also having to force air through your nose. His fingers curled in your hair as he kept your head still, hips lifting quickly from the soft - ruined - fabric of the chair. 

His fist clenched; you could tell he refrained from cumming down your throat as he pulled your head up gently. 

With a cough - one that you failed to suppress - you blinked your tears away and stared up at Cassian, something that looked damn close to pride lacing his features. He hinged forward, grabbing your face with both his hands and smashed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You yelped in surprise, but grabbed him back, hands finding either side of his head, angling it sideways for a deeper kiss. He gradually began leaning back, not releasing you, though, so you rose from your knees, only to plant your legs on either side of his frame, sitting atop his spread thighs. 

Fuck, he was overheating. He dropped your face and quickly peeled the leathers off his torso, tossing them beside the throne in a heap atop his helmet. He made quick work on you, nearly ripping your top off, attacking your breasts with kisses and licks, nips and bites, before the garment even hit the ground. His hand came to your chest, squeezing and pinching at your hardened nipple, as the other found his cock between your legs. He rubbed the tip between your folds, groaning at how wet your pussy was already from sucking him off. 

You gasped as his head ran across your clit, gripping both his shoulders to steady yourself as he held his dick to your slit, guiding you downward on his glorious cock. You both moaned in unison, Cassian reveling in how tight you were around him - how tight you always were around him - and you at how he stretched you. You lowered yourself down on him, nearly wincing as he bottomed out inside you. 

With a steading sigh, you lifted yourself off him - if only an inch - and sank back down on him. Little by little, you worked your way up to moving closer to the tip, just to settle back down against his thighs. After a few minutes of bouncing, you found your rhythm, rising until his tip nearly fell from your folds before dropping your ass down again, squeezing his cock as you met his hips. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), you always ride me so good,” he mumbled, more to himself than you, hands finding your hips and moving you faster against him. 

Your legs burned, thighs and hips already turning sore as his grip tightened around you. He thrust his hips upward, jaw unhinged, his stare animalistic as he bottomed out inside of you, his hips slamming harshly against yours, throwing off your rhythm. You fell forward, hands splaying on his chest to keep yourself on your toes. 

He seized his opportunity, hands holding your hips still in the air as he pressed his boots to the floor and back to the throne, hips snapping up in the air to meet yours. Your legs trembled, unable to hold yourself up much longer, each thrust nearly lifting you off your feet. But he reached so far into you, so far that it almost hurt. 

It took him a moment to realize; he snapped himself out of his trance, blinking and shaking his head slightly, mouth closing, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. His hands found your hips, calluses rubbing over your sides, massaging the smooth skin. You settle on your knees, fully sinking onto him, your eyes meeting his bright hazel gaze. 

His eyes were blown wide as you remained still, clenching around him, letting him fill you fully while you massage his cock. 

Your hands palmed at his chest, now coated with a sheen layer of sweat. Blood trailed down his shoulders, mixing with the ends of his hair; you weren’t sure if it was his or his enemy’s, but as your hands snaked up his neck, burying themselves in his hair, you found him in perfect health. 

You continued your ride, slowly moving up and down, curving your back slightly to take the full length of him inside you. At your new pace, he dropped his head back against the plush throne, shutting his eyes and breathing out a heavy sigh. He stifled a moan deep in the back of his throat - not well, as you lurched forward at the sound, kissing up his neck and sucking purple marks at the column of his throat. 

His hands met your plump ass, squeezing harshly at your soft skin as you picked up your pace. Your legs burned, along with your shoulders and chest as you forced breath in your lungs. Cassian’s breath lurched in his throat as you felt his thighs tense up beneath you. You picked your head up, gazing lovingly down at him from underneath your eyelashes, brows furrowed, hard at work riding. 

He peered up at you with those beautiful hazel eyes, and he noted that, in that moment, covered in blood and sweat, this was his favorite view. 

Your hands slid over his shoulders, gripping tightly at the coiled muscles, before roaming back more, your index finger drawing a featherlight touch along his wingbone. He shuddered, brows drawn together in a mix between pain and pleasure, as his hand snaked behind your neck and he pulled your mouth to his, kissing you harder than ever before. 

Cassian’s other hand found its way between your bodies, circling at your sensitive clit as you bounced on his cock. You were both so tired, so sore, that neither of you could last much longer. Your hand traced along where his wing met his skin, muscle bounding his back. He broke your kiss with a groan - a break for air - before he pressed his lips against yours again, more loving this time, but no time or effort for tongues and dancing around. 

Your hips faltered as he pressed against your clit, unable to stop yourself from clenching around him as your hips bucked, riding out your high while Cassian matched your climax, jutting his hips upward, filling you deep. 

You fell forward on your knees, boots now dangling off the edge of the seat, Cassian’s dick still inside you as you fell against his chest. His hands roamed up and down your back, as he caught his own breath. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head - despite your sweaty helmet hair - and grabbed your hips, holding you sturdily against him as he stood. You wrapped your shaky legs around his thick muscled waist, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. 

He laughed to himself, turning around, and lifting you off him, only to place you down on the throne before him. You groaned at the loss of him, ready to fight him for breaking your embrace. But Cassian knelt, staring up at you with the most lust-filled expression you’d seen - one to rival the look he gave you at your mating ceremony. His hazel eyes were blown wide, completely in awe of his mate, sitting before him. 

He leaned up to kiss you, his one hand finding its way to cup your jaw, fingers tangling in the tendrils of your loose hair. He licked your bottom lip, and instead of meeting yours, which you gladly opened your mouth to allow him into, he made his way down your jaw, a devilish glint in his eye as he hooked his hands around your thigh and pulled your ass to the edge of the throne. He pressed a kiss to your tender clit, earning a soft yelp from you. He smiled before licking a broad stripe across your pussy, licking up the mixture of your cum. 

He hummed in approval, going back for another lick and a kiss. “(Y/N),” he murmured, peering up at you from his spot kneeling before you between your legs. “My queen.” 

[azsazz]

Ringside (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Az, Rhys, and Cass watching you, Feyre, and Nesta spar.

Warnings: Fighting.

Word Count: 674

___________________________________________

“Do you yield?” the High Lady growls, knife pointed into the hallow of your throat. If she leaned any further into you your neck would be sliced clean open. 

You wish you could say you didn’t know how you ended up in this position, but newly mated, Azriel was more of a distraction than not, even when it was something as simple as showing up for training. He’d left late last night for a mission, returning shortly after you and Feyre had started sparring, and the presence of his return had left your guard down.

Rule number one: Don’t let anything distract you.

It had been him that had taught you that, when you were new to fighting. He’d put you on your ass more times than you could count, each time you found your eyes trailing over the rippling muscles under his skin. 

When the bond snapped between the two of you, it had only gotten worse.

“You’ll never be able to fight in a war if you keep letting him distract you,” Cassian scolded. It was a rare occurrence that he was so serious, but if you worried about your mate all of the time, letting anything and everything he did take control of your focus, you’d be dead in a heartbeat.

“No,” you grunt, bucking your hips, “I don’t yield.” Wrapping your legs around her shoulders and using your strength to slam her back onto the mat, the knife loosening in her grip with surprise, you were able to pry it out of her fingers fairly easily. Pressing the knife to the underneath of her chin instead, the High Lady was unable to hide the surprised look on her face.

Sometimes you could use it to your advantage.

Cassian's grunt was all of the acknowledgement you needed, a smirk on your lips. A tingle of pride was sent down the bond and you looked up just in time to see Nesta running towards you, knives drawn.

“Fuck,” you mutter, rolling off of Feyre as her sister launches, narrowly missing her slashing blade. Continuing your momentum you spring into a crouch, knife ready to strike, eyes flicking back and forth between the two Acherons. 

From the side of your eye you notice the three Illyrians have stopped their conversation, watching the three of you like wild animals. 

Slowly, Feyre steps the opposite way Nesta does. You immediately know that they’re trying to surround you, two-on-one. When you move your gaze from one sister to the other you pass over the stare of your lover, a subtle nod directed towards you.

You strike first, lunging forward. As expected, Nesta, behind you, follows, thinking she's going to catch you off guard. Feyre braces for your attack but you twist out of the way at the last moment, her eyes widening, not expecting that. Her older sister however, is quick on her feet, Feyre her new target, following through with her plan of attack. 

Your grin is feline as you watch the two sisters tear into each other. 

Fists flying, the two tumble around in the center of the ring. In a matter of seconds it really does become a fight of two sisters, complete with hair pulling and yelling, weapons discarded in favor of clawing at each other with their nails.

A tug on the bond has you swinging your head around, grinning wide at your mate. He’s standing a step behind his brothers who are intently watching the brawl beside you. His shadows swirl around him, concealing his lower half, and the look in his eyes makes your heart race.

Dropping the knife into the sand, you race towards him, Cassian teasing as you pass, himself and Rhys already heading to tear the two ladies apart. “I better not hear you complaining about sore muscles at training tomorrow.”

You laugh over your shoulder, stride not faltering, “I probably won’t show Cass. Won’t be able to get out of bed!”

Azriel chokes, catches you around the waist and winnows you back to your bedroom.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au Acosf - Chapter 86

(the final chapter - hurrah! It's almost 9000 words. There will be a short epilogue coming too)

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

A fierce ache had taken up residence in Nesta’s body. With the absence of the Mother inside of her, she felt cold and hollow like parts of her had been emptied out. Cassian kissed her forehead gently, not caring if the pair were filthy and all eyes were upon them.

‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘So much. So, so much.’

‘You saved me.’

Cassian shook his head and swept her hair from her face with a warm, but bloodied hand. ‘You saved all of us, Nes.’

From the corner of her eye, Nesta saw Mor and Feyre arrive with others. She recognised Madja, their favoured healer from Velaris, along with more who wore similar uniforms. Rhysand must have summoned them the second it was safe to do so.

Although, she wanted to remain in Cassian’s arms, duty called to him. There were bewildered Illyrians and bodies piling up. Her own army – the one of the dead and the dying – had collapsed the moment she took the Mask away. Piles of bones covered the Steppes. He kept his body covering hers, speaking quickly in Illyrian but gesturing to Nesta occasionally then to the Mask at her feet. There were wary faces, some still stark with terror, others were dropping to their knees again murmuring prayers and crossing their hearts at the sight of her.

Roughly, Cassian snatched a sword from the male closest to him and dashed it to the ground. As pained and fatigued as he was, Cassian’s siphons still managed to flare with red light. His wings sprawled out, shielding Nesta entirely. The meaning was clear enough: dare raise a hand to her and Cassian would cut it off.

‘Go,’ Nesta urged Cassian, nodding her head towards the press of Illyrians currently swarming Mor and Rhys, bombarding them with questions. ‘I’ll be fine.’

No sooner had the words left her tongue, was Nesta engulfed in a fierce embrace. Elain’s body crushed against hers, holding her tightly. The sweet scent of jasmine and honey wafted from Elain’s hair. Her body shook against Nesta’s, so she held her younger sister tightly, glad that she could.

‘Rhys showed us what happened. We came as soon as the spell broke,’ Feyre wrung her hands together. The weight of her gaze was heavy as she examined Nesta, searching for injury, searching for a sign that she had been lost to the power of the Dread Trove.

Nesta released one arm from cradling Elain in invitation. Feyre remained on the spot, as if appraising whether the offer was genuine. It fractured part of Nesta’s heart that Feyre doubted she would want her in their embrace.

At the sound of Elain’s crying, their youngest sister joined them. The three sisters stood immobilised for a while, holding onto each other. It had been a difficult road since their mother had died, but now it seemed there was a light in the distance. None of it had been easy, but it could have been better if they’d seen each other as support; if they had held their hands out for each other to help rather than to rot in lonely misery.

‘You’re alright?’

‘All things considered? I will be,’ Nesta decided. She had come too far to break again. ‘We will be.’

Rhys was calling for order, trying to assign healers to those with the gravest injuries. An Illyrian female with thick scars slashing down her wings was being supported by others, so one healer was sent there to tend to her wounds. Baran was calling out for assistance for Lucien although the male tried to wave it away. Eris’ voice, louder and fraught with fear, called for the healer with more urgency.

Nesta’s heart jolted at the sight of Lucien. His skin was ashen, the lower half of the breeches on his left leg was soaked with blood. A deep gash was bleeding too fast. He’d expulsed his magic defending her and Gwyn long before the others had arrived in support.

Before a healer could go to him, Nesta heard the sound of cloth tearing.

Elain was surging forwards, ripping her skirt at the hem. Blood had always made her squeamish. Even a splinter became an ordeal where Elain would wince and yelp before Nesta had even took the tweezers to it. And yet, she pulsed towards Lucien, her gaze never wavering from the wound in his thigh.

She fell to her knees before him. The scrap of material she’d torn from her lavender gown was being wrapped around his leg as tight as she could pull it. Nesta had never seen Elain so determined. She had never seen her sister so unphased by blood before either. Finally, she had a reason to overcome her fear of it.

‘Why isn’t it healing?’ She asked in anguish.

Nesta wondered what Elain could feel down their bond; whether she could feel Lucien fading and the thought of losing him had spurred her into action.

‘My magic is emptied,’ he grimaced as though every word caused him pain – though there was a flicker of mischief returning to his eyes as he watched his mate tending to him. Nesta wondered if Lucien was berating himself for not being injured sooner.

‘Lucien saved my life,’ Nesta said, adding a dash of bravery to his injury. ‘And Azriel’s. Lucien is the hero here.’

‘The healing house. Quickly,’ the healer declared.

Within heartbeats, Mor held onto them both, ready to winnow back to Velaris, but Elain was standing, pulling an arm around Lucien’s back to support him too. Her brown eyes tracked the pain he fought valiantly to hide, the wince with each breath, the way he screwed his eyes shut with each movement.

‘He will be fine,’ Gwyn said, speaking solely to Eris who seemed suddenly bereft without his brother. ‘The healers are very talented. Lucien will be well.’

The Illyrians who were well enough to fly returned themselves to Iron Crest – carrying females with them if they could. Devlon was being summoned from Windhaven to help instil order along with Illyrian healers to help with all minor wounds. They were superstitious about methods that weren’t Illyrian, apparently.

Cassian said over and over that his injuries were minor and wanted to be last on the priorities. Still, he stood keeping a watch on Azriel. The shadows remained cocooning his body, unwilling to let him go yet – despite the Crown’s demise. Talk of locking him in one of the Hewn City’s dungeons never came. Nesta knew that none would ever do that to him – nor would she ever want it either. Her feelings towards the shadowsinger had not changed; she was able to separate Azriel and not-Azriel into two distinct beings. She hoped he wouldn’t carry the burden of what had happened in his heart just as she hoped others would do the same with her, that they’d understand that when she had placed that Mask upon her face, it was to save rather than to damn.

Amongst the chaos of organising the Illyrians and trying to decide what sort of burial should occur to the army of the dead, Nesta had forgotten that Tamlin and Fionn remained a distance away. The general beckoned her over, his blonde hair darkened by sweat.

‘You’ll come to Spring soon?’

‘You want me there?’ Nesta had to ensure that now they had seen her wear that Mask, kill without restraint, that they still wanted to be near her. That she wasn’t to be feared.

‘It would be our pleasure,’ replied Tamlin.

Fionn nodded. ‘Yes. And besides, it’s difficult to find someone to watch the children and you’re great with them.’

‘Oh, so you only want me for my child caring abilities?’

Fionn knocked his elbow into hers, both of them laughing slightly. It would be a joy for Nesta to visit the Spring Court again to see how much Eimear had grown since she last saw the baby and to be chased with frogs by little Nuala. Spring would forever take up space in her heart.

She cleared her throat, cataloguing the injuries carried by the two males. ‘I cannot begin to thank you for coming here. There are no words.’

The rest became lodged in her throat. The events of the morning were beginning to catch up to her and Nesta suppressed her sob.

‘It’s how I feel about all you did for our court. For me. Thank you.’ Tamlin stooped down to place a hesitant kiss on her cheek then Fionn did the same. ‘We’ll take our leave. You can thank Eris for summoning us.’

Fionn chuckled. ‘He’d like to be my namesake one day, I’m sure of it.’

‘Eris Vanserra as high king?’ Tamlin shuddered. ‘I’d prefer Lucien Vans- Spell-Cleaver.’

The two males gave Nesta a further goodbye before winnowing out of sight.

Nesta sought out the High Lady of the Night Court to use her power for her own benefit, for once. ‘Can you take us to the House of Wind?’

The handful of freckles splattered across the bridge of Feyre’s nose stood darker on her pale face. She gave Nesta another sweep with her eyes, mystified how she has escaped with only soot blemishing her skin. Her body had been healed by the power that had swollen inside of her. The deep cuts in her palms that should have shredded tendons had healed entirely without any whisper they had ever happened.

Nesta jerked her chin towards Gwyn. The priestess had been brave for long enough. She had anchored herself to Eris and Adja, using the smokehound as a crutch to navigate this new, frightening world. For her courage to leave the library, for giving Lucien’s story credibility despite how scared she must have been, Nesta would forever be indebted to her.

‘We can return home,’ Nesta said, stroking her hair. Gwyn nodded, her relief easing out with a long exhale.

‘If you wanted, one day, you could visit the Autumn Court with Nesta,’ said Eris. ‘A visit to your paternal lands.’

Gwyn gave a non-committal shrug and stepped closer to Nesta, but her eyes had brightened at the prospect of exploring the world.

‘Eris also has about thirty dogs like Adja to play with if you want better company.’

‘Not thirty.’

‘Not yet.’

Eris laughed, the noise so warm and welcoming, that when he opened his arms, Nesta was happy to sink into them. The pair of them stunk of smoke and sweat, but Nesta did not care. In desperation, she had taken a chance on Eris Vanserra – a snake with no backbone – and it had turned out to be one of the best decisions in her life. Eris had helped to bring her back from the brink with his teasing, his jostling, and his subtle care. He had become a friend, an ally. The Autumn Court was in safe hands with him as its high lord.

‘You will update me on Lucien?’ He murmured against her hair, still holding her tightly.

‘Of course. Perhaps he’d like Elain to tarry a while and tend to his injuries without his brother overseeing.’

‘He’s probably devastated it’s not on his stomach so he can have a reason to be shirtless around her. Still, he can strip off his trousers.’  

‘Careful, that’s my little sister.’

‘And my little brother.’  

From across the Steppes, Nesta could feel Mor’s eyes burning into them, monitoring their entire friendly exchange. There was no future for them – but a conversation still needed to occur. Maybe one day, both Mor and Eris could find closure.

‘You need to teach me that little winnowing skill,’ said Rhysand, appearing beside them, making Gwyn jump. ‘How can you winnow an object?’

‘Autumn Court secret,’ Eris winked. ‘Can’t give away all of our tricks. I’ll teach Gwyn though – us Autumn blooded must stick together.’

‘How did you summon Tamlin so quickly?’

Eris straightened up. He’d removed his armour and it was neatly piled to the side. ‘Lucien shared his doubts and I trusted my brother’s judgement. If he were to winnow me this ring,’ he said, holding out the one Nesta had slipped from Lucien’s finger for him, ‘it was a distress signal. I happened to be meeting Tamlin on the Spring border. You chose an excellent time to be kidnapped, Nesta.’  

Nesta stepped away from the arm slung around her shoulders. ‘Take care, Eris. Thank you for coming. Both of you.’ Baran dipped his chin in answer.

‘What will you do with the shadowsinger?’ At Rhys’ lack of response, Eris continued. ‘I saw him in my woods many times perhaps for Briallyn or her deal with my father. If you could find out, I’d be grateful to know.’

Unable to go yet, Eris pulled Nesta into another embrace. She let her cheek rest upon his shoulder. ‘Stay out of trouble for a while, won’t you? And remember my offer. I’d still like to walk you down the aisle, but if you have a long-dead soldier from a bog who you’d prefer, I suppose I’ll allow it.’

The relief that he still could tease her, that Eris did not fear her, was a rich wave of warmth that spread from her chest through her whole body. Eris had never been afraid of her power. He’d never tried to control it or quench it. He had only ever wanted Nesta to be in control of it. Even seeing her wear the Mask to raise an army and kill an immortal hadn’t altered his view of her.

‘You’d have to wear black.’

Eris winced. ‘Disgusting. Washes out my colour.’

Feyre took Nesta and Gwyn by the hand once the Autumn Court delegate had departed. Rhys had spoken to Eris in private before the latter had winnowed back to the Forest House.

The familiar sight of red stone walls met them. The sconces along the wall flickered upon their arrival as if the house had come alive once it heard the beating of their hearts.

‘I need to go back to Illyria. Will you be-’

‘We can settle ourselves. Please make sure Cassian is seen by a healer. Use your power of high lady if you must.’

They waited until Feyre’s footsteps had faded down the corridor then Gwyn gave a shaky breath. She had spent her life in the confines of a temple then the sanctuary of the library. In her first hours out of it, Lucien had coaxed her to the Illyrian Steppes where she’d witnessed the death of a mortal queen, the demise of an immortal, and saw the Mother take up residence in Nesta’s body as she carved her way through an army – not to mention the numerous new faces she’d been introduced to. All things considered, Gwyn was coping very well.

The priestess’ robes were darkened with soot and a pungent smell of smoke likely rose from both of their garments. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. ‘I should be worried about Azriel – and I am – but I’m exhausted. It’s not even noon and I feel I could sleep until the morning.’

Nesta agreed with that. Her body was flagging more and more. Staying upright was becoming a struggle – something she had to focus on. ‘Would you like to me to walk you back to your rooms?’

The weariness from seeing such terror and being exposed to a life away from the library was etched onto Gwyn’s face. The thought of traipsing down lofty stairwells and through the hushed shelves with curious acolytes watching seemed to drain Gwyn of the last traces of colour.

‘Would you like to rest a while here? There are spare clothes. Baths. Food. It’s only us here.’

When they entered a bedroom, a night gown had already been laid out on the bed for them and Nesta was aware of the faucet turning then the splash of water against the bottom of the basin.  In the room opposite, it was the same. She left Gwyn to wash alone while she went to her bath. For once, Nesta did not fear the bath – she welcomed settling into the hot water, thankful for the heat and comfort it brought to her aching body. Although she had no wounds to speak of, her body still groaned with pleasure as she sank up to her chin.

Nesta managed to summon her strength to walk the few paces across the corridor and drum her knuckles on Gwyneth’s door. The priestess opened it with heavy-lidded eyes and ushered Nesta to the bed. She was sure it had somehow grown larger in size to accommodate them both comfortably, and the house seemed to rumble with pride when Nesta noticed.

It was not at all late in the day. Nesta had many, many things to think about, to worry her and trouble her. But when she settled beside the priestess on the soft mattress, both in fresh nightgowns, their hair damp, her panicking was subdued. A gentle breeze caressed them from the narrow opening of the window. The house seemed to tug one curtain closed to prevent less light spilling in. A sunny day had seized Velaris after such horror. From the heavy breathing of the female whose forehead was inches from her own, Nesta surmised Gwyn had already slipped into sleep. It did not take long for exhaustion to take Nesta either.

***

There would be a time to rest soon, but Illyria needed Cassian. They accepted him more than Mor or even Rhys despite his status.

Only a handful of his people had not yet been returned to Iron Crest. The ones who had died both on the Steppes and in the War Camp would receive a burial by their families. Others were gathered by their tents, healers seeing to injuries, widows had begun cooking over firepits with large, iron pots. Meals were a big part of Illyrian culture; it gave way to healing, to conversation, to gathering together and being one.

It was difficult to see the anguish sweeping across the dull camp. Even the sun breaking through the clouds and bathing them in golden light did nothing to banish the grief settling in. Karius and his son, Kallon, were both deceased. Cassian didn’t know who had killed them, only that their bodies were amongst the piles of the dead. Briallyn and Koschei had swept into Iron Crest – a place that was unsteady and insecure – to seize it for their own. The thought rattled Cassian. The Autumn Court soldiers taken had been a tragedy but not one that he lost sleep over. This was different. This was more personal. They were his people bleeding and weeping for their fallen. His people whose lives had been upturned.

Iron Crest would need a steady hand and constant support, but it meant that there could be a time for change. Hope blossomed in Cassian’s chest like petals unfurling. With the camp lord and his son dead, there was no heir to Iron Crest. A new male would need to be named and perhaps it rang in a dawning of change.

He met Sohail on the fringes of the camp. The male’s wounds had been cleaned either by a healer or his mother. The female was with him, bowing her head slightly at Cassian’s approach but her shrewd eyes had already landed on his weapons, on his limp, the way his hand covered his stomach. The scars slashing through her wings were some of the worst that Cassian had ever seen. They did not solely cut through tendons to suspend flight but through the membrane too from where she had put up a hell of a fight against whichever males had done it to her. There was an unbreakable spirit there that she had likely passed onto her son. When the young male had said that Cassian would not abandon his mother either, Cassian knew then that he was a male worthy of following. He had been glad to fight alongside him that morning.

‘Change is afoot.’

Sohail swallowed. ‘Was it a spell?’

‘Sort of. But it’s over now. Do you have other family here?’

‘Only us.’ The male shifted his body slightly to obscure his mother with his wing.

Cassian nodded. A life not too dissimilar to his own. He hadn’t had a mother, but he’d had Rhysand’s mother who’d treated him as her own.

‘Take care of yourselves. And well done for trusting your instincts.’

Many Illyrians had died that morning, some on the end of his own blade. Others had died when Nesta had placed that Mask on her face. It still did not feel real. Cassian felt as if he’d viewed it through someone else’s eyes. Only the fact that his palm pulsed with pain and his body was heavy as he walked through the camp let him know that it had happened. There would be no repercussions to Nesta. Cassian had ensured that with the feral warning he’d given to his people – Rhys included. If anybody dared put a finger on her, Cassian would chop their hands off. Even now, he wanted to return to Nesta, but she had prioritised his country over her well-being and ushered him back to duty.

Cassian took his time speaking to his people. Listening to their stories of how the Crown had managed to ensnare them all with its trap. It had been a steady-growing web, luring more and more into its thrall. From the sounds of things, Kallon or his father had been one of the first. Perhaps they had been willing, perhaps not. Maybe Azriel, with his unsettled heart, had fallen easily under the Crown’s power. Illyria had been taken advantage of either way. Its people used as pawns for Briallyn’s and Koschei’s games. None of them had memories from the last few weeks. They had lived to serve the Crown and that alone.

‘What the hell are you still doing here?’ Rhys strode forwards, face thunderous. His wings were out, tremoring with each step. ‘You haven’t even seen a healer yet.’

‘I’m alright.’

‘Don’t give me that shit. A strong wind will knock you down. Go to Velaris.’ When Cassian began to argue, Rhys held up a hand. ‘I thought you’d want to be with Nesta. Let’s go back. Madja will try to wake Azriel.’

The shadowsinger had been taken by Madja to the House of Wind where he’d remain unconscious until they knew what to do. Rhys’ words had their desired effect either way. Even if Nesta would wave away his concern, Azriel needed them now too. He’d bear the weight of the Crown heavier than any. The moment Azriel had said he suspected Lucien but had still let him near Nesta, was the moment that Cassian should have realised that it wasn’t his brother. Azriel would never put Nesta in danger. Wouldn’t ever have run the risk of it. Cassian shook his head. They had all failed Azriel by not realising that he wasn’t himself.

‘I’ve summoned Helion to decide what to do with that Mask. He might want to see Lucien too.’

When they returned to the House of Wind, the male was already there listening to Mor and Feyre explain what happened, his eyes agog. Helion had an ankle crossed over his knee, with the Day Court tunic revealing more flesh than Cassian wanted to see. At their arrival, Helion turned. ‘So, Nesta Archeron is a goddess. I’ve always known it.’

Rhys’ face bleached of colour. ‘We don’t know for certain.’

‘Come now, Rhysand. How else would Nesta be able to summon the Mask through wards without ancient blood magic? The Cauldron was the Mother’s long before it passed hands throughout Prythian. The Mother herself created this land and all the life within.’

‘The Dread Trove belongs to the Mother?’

Helion gave a shrug and tipped back against the couch. ‘Everything was created by the Mother’s hand. She exists at creation and destruction. The beginning and the end.’

‘Nesta let a goddess inhabit her body?’

Rhys scrubbed his face with his hands and sat on the arm of the chair. Feyre’s hand moved to caress his back. He replied to Mor, ‘Against an immortal death god, the Mother likely seemed the best choice of attack. What the fuck did she steal from the Cauldron that day?’

‘We thought the Cauldron favoured Elain,’ Mor groaned, ‘and disliked Nesta for what it took. Now it seems, the Mother favours Nesta. My goodness. Remind me never to get on their bad sides.’

‘Our lives haven’t known peace since the Archerons passed over the Wall,’ Helion winked.

There was a cough from the doorway and Madja was peering at them. ‘I’m ready to wake him.’

Helion accompanied them in case his abilities were needed to wake Azriel. Cassian couldn’t help but think his brother would hate waking up to six of them staring at him with wide eyes – especially in his own bedroom. The healer had cleaned his wounds. He was bare from the waist upwards and the inch-deep cut between his shoulder and collar bone was still meshing together, Madja’s magic working to knit the skin. There were shining burns on his body, but the healer assured them they would be gone within a few hours. It appeared that the group on the Steppes had done their best not to harm Azriel at least.

Madja’s magic slithered through the shadows in a shimmer of bronze. One by one, the shadows receded, slipping away from view. It took a handful of minutes for Azriel’s lashes to flutter open. He woke with a bunched brow.

‘Nesta.’

‘Fine. She’s fine.’

His brother’s hazel eyes met his own. It was unusual for Azriel to be so lost for words, but he broke away from their gaze, eyes flickering down to his lap. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No,’ Rhys cut in sharply. ‘You were under the Crown’s power. It was not you, Az.’

‘I don’t know if I’m safe,’ he admitted. ‘Take me to the Hewn-’

‘If you suggest locking yourself in a dungeon, I will throw you off the roof,’ Cassian warned. He would never condemn his brother to a cell.

It was a busy afternoon. Mor and Rhys hurried back to Iron Crest, refusing to listen to Cassian’s insistence that he could help. Feyre darted to Windhaven to bring Zasha then remained at the House of Wind with him while Helion sat at a table in the private library staring the Mask as if he might be able to figure out a way to remove it purely by looking at it. If Nesta could summon it under the Mother’s instruction, there were no wards in the entire world that would stop it. They had to hope that their lives would be peaceful and there would never be a need for it again - although Briallyn was not the only mortal queen who had crossed their path.

The female herself was fast asleep still, curled on her side with an arm around the priestess who slumbered too when Cassian peeked into the bedroom. Shadows were tucked around the copper-haired female, content to be beside her. That was another story to tell. Feyre and he had whispered in the doorway, wondering who she was to Az.

Azriel preferred to be in his room. Madja said it would be good for him to rest though Cassian knew his brother was ashamed and wallowing in heartbreak that he’d succumbed to the Crown’s influence. For once, he didn’t try to push through injuries and support in Illyria. They gave him privacy although Cassian took frequent walks past his door, hoping that the sound of his footsteps might coax Azriel to join them. It didn’t work.

While he and Feyre tried to cook something between them, a tired Mor returned with Elain and Lucien. The male used crutches to support his weight as he crossed the room, but Elain remained attentive to his needs; her hand frequently flitted to his arm or his back to steady him.

‘Rhys will be back soon then we can all eat together,’ Mor suggested. ‘Where’s Az?’

‘Still in his room.’

Mor pursed her lips but remained in the lounge. The females helped Lucien into the chair then Elain ensured his leg was elevated with a pouffe.

‘It was cut as deep as the bone,’ she said, reaching for a blanket to tuck around him. ‘The healer said he’s lucky he didn’t bleed out.’

Nobody dared disturb the moment of Elain not-recoiling from Lucien. Though the male was pale and drawn still, each time Elain turned her face from his, Cassian caught the content smile spreading over his face. Lucien was thoroughly enjoying being tended to by his mate.

‘Hello Lucien.’

Helion had departed from the modest private library and braced himself in the doorway of the lounge. His eyes snagged on the bandage wrapping around his son’s leg. He took a step forwards.

A fist kneaded Cassian’s back. Mor was shoving him and Feyre towards the kitchen, forcing them out of the room. No, Cassian supposed, this was not a conversation that required an audience.

Feyre turned back to the stove where they had successfully burnt every dish while greeting Lucien and Elain. ‘We need Nuala and Cerridwen.’

Summoned by their name, the wraiths appeared and began scraping the charred food from pans and starting anew.

‘Stop listening,’ Mor hissed, and swiped at Cassian’s arm.

He hadn’t been particularly eavesdropping, but he had stood as close as he could to the door just in case any words travelled to him. He did not envy either male for the conversation about to unfold – or Elain who seemed resolute in her decision to stay by Lucien’s side while he was injured.

‘Anybody else have any secrets they’d like to share?’ Feyre joked as she hoisted herself up onto the kitchen side. She rummaged on the highest shelves for something to drink.

Cassian risked a glance to Mor. There was too much written on his face, too much for Mor to read. He hadn’t managed to mask his guilt quick enough. Her own face drained of colour. Yes, he knew she had a mate. Yes, he knew exactly who it was. Mor shook her head slightly, brown eyes welling with tears, begging him not to reveal the secret she’d fought to bury for five centuries. Because he loved her, she could keep the secret – but he wished Mor knew that they loved her no matter what. And part of him wished she understood that Eris had worn his own masks, played his own games, and being his mate was nothing shameful – nor anything Mor could influence. One day, they’d have that conversation.

‘Yes,’ Cassian announced. ‘Rhys keeps his best wine in the library below with Clotho guarding it.’

The brief reprise while Feyre went on a hunt for wine allowed Mor the chance to recover – though she made an excuse to depart from the kitchen. Being privy to Lucien and Helion’s awkward exchange seemed preferable to facing Cassian and speaking about mates.

Lucien spoke cordially to Helion. The latter was sat on the edge of the pouffe, beside his son’s foot, asking general questions about his life in the mortal lands. They had three hundred years of history to catch up on. It wasn’t as hesitant or awkward as Cassian expected; Lucien could make friends wherever he went – and Helion could charm anybody. It was likely a paternal trait.

Elain sat close to Lucien, but not quite touching. However, the female did find reasons to interact with him – to fluff the pillow behind his back, to pass him his drink, to adjust the blanket over his lap.

Once Rhys returned, they gathered in the lounge. Illyria would be fine for a couple of hours, he reassured them.

It had been a strange, drawn-out day. Through Rhys and Feyre’s daemati powers, Lucien turned over his memories that showed Azriel’s slight differences – the ones they had all unfortunately missed – and how he began to suspect the shadow singer. One was of Eris stood in a balcony at the Forest House, peering out towards the trees, stating that he’d found Azriel again in his woods. There had been no order for him to be there and if their courts were not so distrustful of the other then maybe it could have been realised sooner. Another showed Eris in a moment of fury brandishing a bare arm to Lucien, demanding he return to the Night Court and persuade Nesta to make a new deal with him for her protection. The moment Lucien had discovered that Azriel had Nesta in his care, he had acted swiftly, deciding to beg the priestess to come with him rather than forcing the others to listen to his accusation.

‘I won’t comment on who I think she is or what she is to Azriel,’ Lucien said as he crossed towards the table on his crutches, ‘but when Nesta discovered that Azriel wasn’t speaking to Gwyn, she was irate. I’d never seen her speak to gruffly to him, so I surmised she is important to Azriel. I pieced everything together. There was no time to try to persuade everybody here.’

Lucien had done what he believed to be right – and in truth, Cassian likely would have struggled to believe his story. In a subdued silence, they remained at the table. Cassian would never be able to thank Lucien for the risk he took and the protection he gave to Nesta. The priestess too, for leaving her sanctuary and following the shadows to Azriel. There were no words to convey his gratitude that his mate was still here, still safe, thanks to Lucien’s quick thinking.

‘You saved my sister,’ Elain said in awe. Her eyes had been opened today, as if she was seeing Lucien and his goodness for the first time.

‘What do we do with the Mask, Helion?’

The high lord of the Day Court tore his gaze away from his son and pondered the question. ‘If Nesta allows the Mother to inhabit her whenever the goddess sees fit, it doesn’t seem to matter what we do with that Mask – or the Harp. Nesta will always be able to summon it.’ Helion brushed a hand through his dark hair. ‘For now, perhaps the Prison. Separate the two items, Rhysand, I hate to think of them convening with each other.’

‘Let’s hope none of us need divine intervention again,’ Elain said briskly.

When the wraiths had finished cooking, delicious aromas filled the corridors, drawing Nesta from her sleep. Her arrival was announced with a bang of the door against the wall.

‘That is the most annoying dog in history,’ Nesta declared. Her hair was askew, lines creased her face where she’d slept. She didn’t seem to care that she wore a nightgown either. ‘He takes up the whole bed and snores in your ear.’

‘Sounds like Cass,’ Rhys winked.

‘How often have you shared the bed with him?’ Feyre teased.

‘Will you two handsome males indulge me in stories of nights you’ve spent warming each other’s bodies?’

At Helion’s words, Lucien choked on a mouthful of wine. Despite a lack of blood, his cheeks still managed to heat. It wasn’t just three hundred years of Lucien’s life that needed to be catalogued, but Helion’s too.

‘This is Gwyn,’ Nesta explained as the shy priestess peered around the doorway. Zasha was at her side, trying to snap at the shadows that were teasing him. One spiralled around Gwyn’s body then swooped over Zasha’s head.

‘I’m in my nightie,’ she whispered to Nesta.

‘As am I. It’s of no consequence. You need to eat, Gwyneth. We’ve slept the day away.’ Nesta held out a hand for Gwyn which she reluctantly took. Lucien nodded his head in their direction and the priestess smiled softly to him.  

Nesta positioned the acolyte between Lucien and herself, stopping to kiss Cassian’s forehead on the way to the vacant chairs.

A sheet of copper hair fell past her shoulders. She used it to try and hide part of her freckled face. Perhaps noticing the silence or the way everybody had turned to examine Gwyn, Nesta snapped, ‘Will you stop staring at her?’

The irritation laced her tone and Mor braced her hands on the arms of the chair. Even Feyre had taken a sharp inhale. Nesta only glanced around the table.

‘You are all acting as if I am about to smite you.’

‘It’s a possibility now,’ muttered Mor.

Nesta stretched her neck from side to side, easing out the ache from her nap. ‘Then do your best to stay on my good side.’

A long silence was drawn out around the table. Cassian was surprised to see the priestess suppressing a smile.

Rhys clapped his hands together. ‘Well, Nesta. If I wasn’t scared of you before, I’m fucking terrified now.’

Finally, laughter rang out across the table. It was as if the room sighed in relief too, the tension bleeding away. They began helping themselves to the array of dishes laid out on the table and Rhys personally poured wine for all gathered.

‘Where is Azriel?’

‘In his room. He’s quite downcast.’

Nesta narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t leave him alone.’

‘He wants to be alone,’ Cassian clarified.  

‘I don’t care what he wants. I wanted to be left alone – and I was for months at my lowest. Just because you want it, it doesn’t mean you need it or that it’s good for you.’

Nesta’s chair clattered as it fell forwards into the table. She strode like a queen past them all, making a beeline for Azriel’s room down the corridor.

***

Nesta rapped her knuckles hard on the wooden door. She counted to five before repeating her action. Azriel liked privacy. But at this moment, he needed his family and needed to know that he was loved.

The door wasn’t locked. Nesta swung it open, revealing the shadowsinger sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He didn’t turn at her approach, didn’t so much as respond. He likely had tracked all of the noise right from the dining room – he never missed anything.

Nesta took a seat beside him on the bed. Her arm brushed against his.

After the war, she had wanted to be alone. Or at least, she thought she wanted that. She did at first. Then she craved company. Craved someone to love her and protect her, but she was too proud and scared to ask for help. So Nesta had drowned in loneliness and heartbreak until she felt nothing at all. Every night became a challenge of how much she could drink to block out her thoughts, of how many males she could take to her bed and not feel disgusted about how little she cared for herself. Being alone solved nothing. It had made everything worse.

Azriel had not let her be alone. Azriel had found her staggering on the streets of Velaris then taken her to his mother’s house. He had trusted Nesta with the most important female in his life, because he had seen how broken she was.

Her arms slipped around his body, drawing him closer to her.

‘I’m so sorry this happened to you. Nobody is blaming you.’

Azriel remained stiff. ‘I could have killed you.’

‘And I could have died months ago in Velaris without your intervention.’

Nesta lifted his head, forcing the shadowsinger to look at her. There was such hopeless despair rooted in his hazel eyes. Azriel showed his love in deeds, by showing to his family that he was useful. Nesta made him look at her still.

‘The Crown made you do those things, Azriel. It was you who saved me and took me to your mother. You who saved Gwyn in Sangravah. You who rescued Elain from Hybern’s camp. You who have saved so many others.’

‘I don’t remember anything,’ he said, voice fragile. ‘I don’t remember weeks and weeks.’

‘You were fighting to get out,’ she said, still holding on him. ‘You fought against yourself so that you wouldn’t hurt me. Azriel, there is nothing to forgive. It was not you. Please, come and eat with us. Don’t be alone here. No good can come of it.’

The male shook his dark hair and relinquished his hands from her grip.

‘I left the library for you, shadowsinger.’ Gwyn stood in his doorway. Shadows skittered from her towards Azriel with excitement. They were not things he could control, Nesta realised, but creatures whose moods could be read. One shadow ruffled through Azriel’s hair, desperate to be close to him again. ‘The least you could do is eat dinner with us.’

Azriel barely breathed as he gazed upon the pretty priestess stood in the House of Wind. Her nightgown went to her ankles and the sleeves were full. Her copper hair was unbound and shining, her freckles like constellations in a night sky illuminating her large, teal eyes.

Nesta placed a hand on Azriel’s chest. ‘Just so you know, Gwyn loves me more. She stabbed you to save me.’

The priestess blushed. ‘It was only once and not too deep.’

Azriel touched the wound on his shoulder where Truth-Teller had sunk into his skin. ‘Who taught you to use a weapon, Berdara?’

‘Nobody taught me – it’s why you’re still alive.’

Azriel chuckled. The sound of it made Nesta breathe a sigh of relief. His shadows were content to lounge on his shoulder, watching the exchange between the pair of them.

‘Come and eat. Or will you really leave Gwyn to face your family alone? Helion is also here. What did he call you, Gwyn? An absolute delight?’

The shadowsinger shot to his feet suddenly at the mention of Helion. The threat of Helion’s charm worked just as Nesta expected it to.

Nesta departed the bedroom to give them a brief moment of privacy. As she passed, she heard Azriel’s murmur asking if Gwyn was hurt, if he had hurt her. Something swelled in her chest when she saw the joy blooming on both Azriel and Gwyneth’s faces.

For a few days, they remained at the House of Wind. Illyria was in a state of flux that required all hands-on-deck. Nesta was content to lounge around the private library when she was alone or sometimes, she would meet Gwyn in the larger one downstairs just to chat. The priestess had become a friend quickly. Nearly dying together against a mindless army had a way of bonding them.  

Cassian was busy in Iron Crest along with the others. He often took Zasha with him just to give the smokehound a run around on the hills rather than being cooped up on the roof.

Azriel was healing. There were wounds that none could see, but he tried not to default to privacy. Most evenings, he’d descend to the library to talk to Gwyn – sometimes the three of them would sit together in an alcove whispering. Cassian had assured Azriel that he trusted him near Nesta so he had taken Nesta to visit his mother for the dinner they had promised Rovena. With word travelling quickly, she had probed them both on what had happened on the Steppes. They kept his submission to the Crown from their stories, not wanting to horrify Rovena. Small steps would help the male realise that none blamed him, and he hadn’t changed in their view.  

Lucien remained recovering at the river house. Daily, he took a walk in Velaris on crutches with Elain escorting him. Soon, he’d be able to bear weight on the leg again, and Nesta had little doubt that her sister would be with Lucien every step of the way.

A wing was curled around Nesta in bed so she trailed a finger slowly along the bone running through it until Cassian flickered open his eyes.

‘You alright?’

She smoothed a thumb down his cheek. ‘We never went to the hot springs.’

He let out a sleepy chuckle and kissed her neck. His body was delightfully warm and inviting as his arm slunk around her waist. ‘There were other things happening last week, Nes.’

It was still dark outside, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Hues of violet and green were bleeding into the sky as if ink was being washed away from a canvas.

‘Can we go?’

Cassian seemed to realise that Nesta was not in a sleeping mood, so shifted himself onto his side, yawning. ‘Where? The Springs? Now?’

Nesta kissed his forehead, savouring the touch of his skin. ‘We’ve hardly had a minute alone.’

They had both been busy – Cassian more so, with trying to smooth the shaky ground of Iron Crest. Thankfully, others had understood that Briallyn had controlled an entire camp, but the country still felt the wound of losing so many. Relinquishing undeserved siphons seemed to be a big hurdle too. Change always brought about unexpected challenges.

Helion made frequent appearances to speak with Lucien – the male was determined to forge a bond with his son. Lucien had been inundated with lavish gifts and offers of visiting the Day Court, so Nesta had the feeling he would play on his injury a little longer to delay the oncoming change in his own life.

When Helion allowed Lucien out of his sight, he’d quiz Nesta on how it had been to wear the Mask. It seemed that she was the only person who had worn it twice – and lived to tell the tale. The high lord had left no stone unturned, bombarding her with questions that he diligently recorded in a ledger for his vast library. When it came to describing how it felt to be a vessel for the Mother, Nesta’s words came sparsely. It had been an overwhelming feeling of goodness, of being loved and treasured. The Mask had felt possessive, wanting Nesta for its own, but the Mother had cherished her like it did all things she had created.

‘And she gave you a choice?’

‘Yes,’ Nesta said, furrowing her brow. ‘I wanted to continue with the Mask to… to peace and eternity, but Cassian’s voice halted me. She let me choose whether to remain on my path or to return to him.’

The male smiled fondly, recording it all. Perhaps Helion was the most dangerous of all high lords, not for his charm or power, but for the knowledge he amassed.

‘A lucky male.’

‘I’m the lucky one,’ Nesta had countered.

Cassian was gone most days, coming back late and others would always join them for dinner. Sometimes he brought Emerie with him or Balthazar as well. Other times just Feyre and Rhys would make an appearance. Once, Gwyn bolstered her courage and joined the four of them for a quiet dinner where she was mobbed by Zasha and shadows. If Azriel didn’t eat with them then it meant he was still in the library with her.

By the time Nesta and Cassian slipped into bed most nights, they were too exhausted to speak let alone touch each other.

Nesta did not think Cassian would ever deny her anything. A soft smile or a delicate caress and he’d change the world for her. Despite his eyes still being heavy and the sheets warm and welcoming, Cassian tossed back the covers then swung his legs onto the floor.

‘You’ll run the risk of being spotted naked in the day light,’ he warned.

‘I have a big bat to shield me,’ she murmured, kissing him.

Cassian leapt off the roof, clinging to Nesta tightly as her stomach dropped from the plummet, then his wings spread out and they soared towards Illyria. It was still something magnificent to behold how Cassian was able to fly without a map as if Illyria always beckoned him home. Nesta was itching to be back in their cabin too. She missed being able to walk to the village and see the children or to languish in Emerie’s store together. Velaris was fine. Fine for a day or two. There were too many people, too much noise and bustle. Nesta missed the call of the mountains, the wind that rattled through them. She missed the narrow streams that weaved through the bracken-covered hills.

The gathering light filtered across the springs. They were nothing like Nesta expected. She imagined something similar to the Day Court oasis; a sole pool shrouded by stone or sand. They had flown to the northern-most coast of Illyria where shelves were cut into the white stone mountain. Brilliant blue pools gathered on different levels with steam rising from each. It almost looked frozen, the white stone was so pure. Nesta’s breath caught in her chest when Cassian set her down.

‘It’s beautiful.’

Cassian smiled sheepishly. ‘The camp I was born in is a stone’s throw from here.’

‘You’re a northern boy.’

‘They say Illyrians from the north have the hardest armour and the warmest hearts – because it gets so cold in winter.’

Nesta agreed with that statement. She settled their bag down on a dry edge, still utterly struck by the beauty of the springs. She tugged the hem of Cassian’s shirt. ‘You go first to check it’s safe. And because you have no qualms about getting naked in public.’

Cassian shucked off his boots first then his shirt on top in a rough pile. ‘By the time I was a century old, I think everybody in Velaris had seen me naked. We did a lot of stupid dares when we were younger.’

‘And you flashed people?’

‘No!’ He protested, offended by the accusation. ‘Just had to fly to Illyria and back in the nude.’

‘Well, that’s far more reasonable.’  

Only a pale scar remained on his stomach from the injury received in Iron Crest. His palms still had deep-set scars too, but healers said in a few weeks the injuries would be gone. Nesta knew it was the truth; half of his innards had been spilling out from battle before but there was no mark upon his body now.

Appreciatively, she watched as his strong body sunk into the water. Standing, the water level was slightly higher than his naval. Cassian’s wings stretched out and he let out a low groan of satisfaction with the movement.

The sun was rising, casting the steaming water in golden light as if it were aflame. It was a good decision to come here today – to be with Cassian to watch a sunrise.

‘You coming in?’

‘A moment,’ she asked.

Her hands had begun to tremble as she unbuckled their bag. Yesterday had been spent preparing for today. It was why she had barely slept a moment.

She laid out two towels for when they had finished in the water then slowly removed her clothes. To keep her hands busy, Nesta folded them neatly then did the same to Cassian’s heap.

‘Nes, you alright?’

The beat of her heart shook her whole body. Nesta slipped into the water, ensuring the carefully wrapped package in her hand didn’t receive a soaking. It had been a combination of trial and error during times when she was home alone. Rovena’s advice had saved her; she’d practised them in the kitchen with her on the night Azriel had taken her there for dinner. Azriel hadn’t said anything about it, but she knew he had an inkling of Nesta’s plan.

Nesta presented Cassian with a package.

‘What’s this?’

‘Open it.’

Beneath the paper was a number of pastries formed into triangular shapes. The pastry was flaky – and the hardest bit to master. It needed to be worked quickly and kneaded until it was paper-thin. Much of it had been thrown in the bin in anger. Some of the pastries contained simple combinations of spinach and creamed cheese. Others had seasoned lamb and potatoes. It was an Illyrian staple with no real recipe; a food all females were taught to make by their mothers or grandmothers.

‘Who made these? Rovena?’

Nesta shook her head. ‘I made them. For you.’ She took a long, steadying breath. Cassian was cradling the food in his hands like it was a baby. ‘I want to be your wife, but I also want to be your mate. Officially.’

‘My mate,’ he whispered.

‘We could combine a wedding with a mating ceremony. My tradition and yours tied together.’

Nesta held her breath as Cassian took a bite of the first. Although it was the symbolic act of presenting food that was most important, she still hoped they at least were edible. His face broke into a wide grin then he devoured one then another.

‘Best breakfast I’ve ever had,’ he declared, reaching for another.

They stood together in the water as the sun continued to rise further into the sky. In the distance was the remnants of a previous camp. Nesta traced the tattoos carved into Cassian’s skin, golden-brown in the morning sun. For a little, unwanted boy who came from that camp, he had achieved incredible things, lived a life one could only dream of. And the next chapter was beginning. Nesta would be by his side through it all.

‘Do you want a forever with me?’

Cassian kissed her slowly. It was a kiss that unravelled Nesta, so full of love and desire. She would never doubt his heart.

‘Nes, I don’t think forever will even be enough time with you.’

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me pt 2 | Feysand

Part 1 ** Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

I’ve been moved into the Velaris block for all of an hour before Tamlin finds me. I haven’t even unpacked yet; boxes of clothes are still sitting on the bedroom floor next to the pieces of a dismantled bed frame.

I’m just standing in shock, not knowing whether to be mad at Lucien for ratting me out, or guilty that that information got him beaten black and blue by the man who terrorises both our lives. I guess that's a pretty accurate summary of my relationship with Lucien, though.

The world moves around me, and within five minutes, Lucien is gone, I’ve been bundled into Rhys’s apartment, and Cassian and Azriel are prowling the walkways waiting for his approach. Mor is with me, and Rhys is in my apartment. When Tamlin arrives, I can hear him through the door.

“Where is she?” he snarls, and Mor puts her arms around me.

“None of your business,” Rhys snarls back. The urge to go to the window is overwhelming.

As if reading my mind- or maybe just following the line of my gaze, Mor shakes her head. She points to the door instead, and I see that there is a peephole there I could look through without being seen.

“Tell me where you’ve fucking taken her,” Tamlin spits, and I almost don’t go. But I force myself to stand, silently, and cross the room.

“I didn’t take her, she left. Just like they all eventually do, you stupid thug.”

Tamlin is standing in the walkway, and Rhys is leaning casually against a railing. Cassian and Azriel stand by him, not so casually.

“Lucien says this her new address. There’s no reason she’d voluntarily downgrade to a shithole like this.”

“This isn’t Feyre’s address, this is my place.” Rhys is lying for me, now.

“Then let me in and prove she’s not here.”

“Like hell I will.” The words rip from his throat, and the nonchalance is gone.

“Maybe I’ll just bust down every door until I find her then.”

Tamlin’s threat has me backing away from the door in a hurry. I hit the couch and nearly fall but Mor steadies me.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. So softly, at my ear. “You’re okay. Rhys won’t let anything happen to you.”

“He’s going to get punched,” I whisper. The fear is a taste in the back of my throat.

“He can handle himself.”

“Why though? Why doesn’t he just Tamlin come get me?”

"Because he's not an asshole." I just give her a look, and after a moment she goes on. “His dad was like this,” she says quietly. “Rhys used to try stand up for his mum and get thrown aside like a ragdoll. I saw it happen a few times.”

I process this, and tune back into the conversation beyond the door. There’s the sound of scuffling, and then Tamlin swearing.

“You try that again and you’ll go over the railing.” That’s Cassian now. Tamlin huffs out a laugh.

“Rhys,” he says. “Call off the dogs. I’m just here to get what’s mine.”

“There’s nothing here that belongs to you.” That’s Rhys again. In the ensuing silence, I’m picturing the way Tamlin’s face darkens as he gets into one of his dangerous moods. I’m twisted up with guilt that people might get hurt because of me, but I’m too chicken to go out there and face him myself. Not now. Not while I’m so close to being free of him.

“Fine.” I’m surprised to hear this. Tamlin’s backing off? “But I’ll be back for her and you’d better not be in my way again.”

“You’ll be back here over my dead body,” Rhys bites back.

“That can be arranged, you know,” Tamlin says coolly. But then he walks off and after a minute, the door opens.

“Cassian, Az, go make sure none of his henchmen are lurking around here will you?”

“Henchmen?” Mor asks, raising an eyebrow. Rhys ignores this.

“Mor can you call the police and let them know Tamlin’s been making death threats around here again?”

"Wait," I bleat. "He's really gone? That's it?"

“Okay but they’re not going to do anything,” Mor grumbles, and gets off the couch. Rhys takes her place once she’s walked off, and sits down next to me.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” I whisper back. “Are you?” Rhys snorts.

“Of course I am. I’m not afraid of Tamlin.”

“I am,” I confess. And Rhys’s eyes melt a little before he tugs me into his side. I put my face against his chest and try hard not to cry.

"Gods I hate that guy." I belatedly realise that Rhys is... vibrating under me.

"Rhys?"

He looks down. "Sorry," he says. "This is just another day I have to convince myself not to go after him. That if I do, I'm just as bad as he is..."

"Do you want me to distract you?"

Rhys looks down at me in surprise. He huffs a laugh, and his shoulders relax a fraction. "It's not your job to diffuse angry men," he tells me, and I think about what Mor said about his father. He sighs and the hug squeezes. “I’m sorry this is happening to you,” he says into my hair.

"Will he come back?"

Rhys doesn't answer that question. Instead, he says, “You can always, always call me if you feel unsafe and I’ll come find you.”

I nod into the warmth of him, and feel embarrassed by how hard I’m clinging on.

"You want to stay here for a bit?”

I do, but I force myself to let go of him. “No, I really need to unpack. Thank you so much. For out there, for getting me here…”

“You’re welcome,” Rhys says. “But no more of that. We’d protect anyone in Velaris who needed it, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, and then stand up to go. My hand shakes on the door handle, and Rhys sees it.

“Do you want me to hang out in your apartment for a while?”

“Yes please,” I say quietly. Rhys comes up behind me.

“Alright. Come on then.” He squeezes my shoulder, grabs a rusty tin off his kitchen bench and then opens the door. I trot out after him and I have to say, I do feel much safer with him leading the way. Even if it is only to the next door.

“I’m going to make us some tea, what are you unpacking now?”

“My clothes,” I say. “And then I’ll have to put the bed together but I don’t even know what it looked like assembled.” I try for a laugh but it comes out brittle.

“No worries,” Rhys says. “I happen to be an expert in puzzles. I’ll be there in a bit.” He wriggles the tin at me and I realise he’s brought tea from his house. He bustles around the small kitchen, finding mugs and a kettle amongst my meagre belongings, and I leave him to it.

In the bedroom, I open up the wardrobe that Mor and the boys got for me. I push it further along the wall to my liking and wonder how Cassian carried it in here because the thing weighs a ton. There’s hanging space in one side and drawers in the other.

I’ve filled the top drawer by the time Rhys comes in bearing steaming mugs.

“My mother was Irish,” he tells me. “And she used to get this stuff imported because she always said she didn’t like the tea over here. My aunt used to send it over by the crate.”

I take my mug and blow gently on the top before taking a sip. The taste is rich bittersweet, and I do feel calmer when I swallow. I breathe in the curling steam, and when I look up Rhys is watching me. He clears his throat.

“Alright do you have a screwdriver?” Rhys asks.

“No,” I say. Rhys gives me a look. He pops back to his house for a minute, and returns with a shoebox containing two screwdrivers, a hammer, and an adjustable wrench. “You gotta have a basic toolbox,” he says.

“I did at home,” I say wryly. “Didn’t think to pack it when I moved into Tamlin’s.”

“Ah, fair. Well hold onto these at least.”

With that, he sits down and starts inspecting the pieces of the frame.

For a while, we work in companionable silence. I fold away the rest of my clothes, and then start helping Rhys find the right screws out of the sandwich bag-full of them that came with the frame. Rhys has started humming under his breath, and I’m content to sit and listen until Rhys notices that I’m listening, and smiles at me. He sings a bit clearer for me to hear.

“So softly she came that her feet made no din/ She stepped up to me and this did she say/ It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.”

I hand him a screw. “That’s lovely,” I say. “What is it?”

Rhys holds the screw straight while he turns the phillips head. “It’s an Irish folk song that my mother used to sing,” he says. “It’s about a woman who dies before her wedding, but comes back to see her lover in a dream.”

“Oh,” I pick up the next screw. “That’s why it sounds so sad.”

“Yes well,” Rhys holds his hand out for my screw. “My mother sang a lot of songs. Would you like a happier one?”

I smile and nod, and Rhys launches into a merry tune about a man who only loves a woman named Nora.

“Wait,” I say, half way through. “I know this one. I think it was an American song first, but it wasn’t Nora it was Maggie. And I’m pretty sure Maggie dies young, too.”

“Oh.” Rhys scratches his chin with the screwdriver. “Alright well how about this one.”

His next song is positively filthy and suddenly I think I would have liked his mother. Rhys sings a few verses, full of innuendo and I end up laughing so hard I knock over his half-empty mug of tea, causing him to jump up.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” I say. I realise I have no tea towels, or bath towels for that matter, and Rhys seems to realise this too because he pulls off his shirt and throws it over the puddle.

“This is why I always wear black,” he grins. I put my hands over my face and groan.

“You’ve done so much for me and all I do is ruin your clothing.”

But Rhys kneels down in front of me and tugs my hands down.

“Hey,” he says softly. “None of that, remember? No more worrying about people doing things for you. Plus I have a closet full of identical black t-shirts, you're fine.”

I look up, my fingers still in his, and grimace. But the look on his face is so sincere that I make an effort to shake it off.

“I’m not used to it. I’m… not good at letting people help me,” I confess.

“I know,” Rhys says.

This close to me, I suddenly notice the swirling black tattoos that flow over his chest and shoulders. I also notice the deep grooves between the muscles all over his abdomen, the warm brown of his skin stretched taut over the expanse.

I blush slightly and pull my hands back.

“So that’s the tattoo you got the same day as me?” I nod to the freshly inked section on his left forearm. It’s a continuation of the style that’s on the rest of him, but I focus on that stark black section rather than the smooth, worn lines across his pecs.

“Oh yeah.” He peers down at himself, but doesn’t move away from me. “How’s yours healing up?”

I wince and rub my wrist. “So, so itchy.” Rhys laughs.

“Yeah don’t let it dry out. What are you putting on it?”

“Umm just this antiseptic cream?”

“Okay you should try this salve I have.”

He gets to his feet and runs next door again, this time returning with a small, round container. I hear him washing his hands in the kitchen sink before he returns.

“May I?”

I roll my sleeve up and frown and the cracked surface of the artwork. Rhys carefully rubs the salve all over it, until I can see the image again. I worry that he’ll think it’s gross, but I guess he has enough tattoos that he’s not surprised. His fingers are hot on my skin, and I look at the details on his rings.

“Feel better?”

“It really does.”

“This stuff is oily so it doesn’t dry out as fast as other creams. I have a friend who makes it, so you can keep this tub.” He sets it down on my night stand, then picks his wet shirt up off the ground and wipes his hands on it. “Try to slap it instead of scratching, that’s what I do.”

“I’ve been icing it to try get it to calm down.”

“Yeah that’s a good option, my freezer's been broekn for a month. I like the design, by the way. It’s not usually Amren’s style but she did a great job.”

I debate telling him, for a minute.

“It’s not her style because… I drew it. I showed it to her during our consult and she said she’d be happy to tattoo it. Said she wished everyone came with half the work already done.”

Rhys looks at me, then at my wrist, and back up again.

“Feyre, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks, it’s just a little thing.”

“I fucking love it. Is that what you do for work, you’re an artist?”

I laugh. “One day, hopefully. I work in the art store, it pays shit but I get discounted supplies.”

“Would you do a commission piece?”

“Uh, sure I guess.”

“Have you got some stuff I can see?”

I fumble for my phone and show him my Instagram, scrolling because his hands are in his wet shirt.

“Holy shit, Feyre,” he says. “You are amazing.” He looks at me, and gives me a toothy grin. “Paint me something,” he says. “Three by two feet, anything you want.”

“You know it’s harder to come up with ideas when you have no parameters,” I tell him.

“I did give you parameters, I want a big ass canvas.”

I laugh. “Okay, fair. When do you want this by?”

“No time limit. And I’ll pay you upfront.”

“Rhys, you don’t have to pay. You’ve done enough…” But Rhys cuts me off.

“What did I say about that?”

“Fine. Fifty dollars.”

“Pssh. You sold that one for three hundred and it’s half the size I asked for.”

I quickly put my phone down. “Alright, three hundred then.”

“Five hundred.”

“What is this, reverse haggling?”

“Five fifty, final offer.”

I give him a look, but he just grins like a maniac.

“Fine,” I say.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Rhys tips and imaginary hat. “I’m going to wash up. Come with me and take some of my extra pillows and blankets.”

It had not even occurred to me that I needed them- the studio I had been renting was fully furnished, so the sheets were mine but the bedding was not. I guess it's obvious now that the empty bed is in the middle of the room.

“I can run over to the store,” I protest.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you my dead mother’s pillows or anything.”

“What?! I wasn’t-"

“I know I’m messing with you. Come on.”

We trudge back into Rhys’s apartment, and he dumps his shirt in the bathroom sink on the way through. His place is bigger than mine, it’s a two-bedroom that I recall he shared with both his mother and Mor years ago. There’s a well-stocked linen cupboard, where Rhys sources two pillows and a spare comforter.

“You have sheets?” he asks.

“I have sheets.”

“Okay, anything else you need?”

“No?”

“Towels. Here.” He’s still shirtless, so I can’t argue there. He adds two to the pile in my arms. “Okay, if you need anything else just give me a shout.”

“Okay.”

He looks at me seriously. “Do you feel safe on your own in there?”

The image of Tamlin outside my door flashes before my eyes, but I swallow and nod anyway. I have no desire to let that man intimidate me anymore.

“Alright,” Rhys says. “Are you working tomorrow?”

Another nod.

“Well, if you get bored in the evening, there’s usually at least one other person hanging around my house so you’re welcome any time.” He leans in conspiratorially. “It’s because I won’t give out my Netflix password, so they just barge in and watch on my TV.” I laugh at that.

“You never kick them out?”

Rhys shrugs. “They started doing it when I was a kid, my ma used to grouse about it but I think she secretly liked it. So now if I tell them to leave they just say ‘ma said we could’ and then don’t move.” I laugh again.

“Okay well I’ll keep that in mind.” I head for the door.

“Night, Feyre,”

“Night, Rhys.”

When I’m back in my own apartment, I put the bed things down on the mattress and hug a pillow to my chest. I realise then that despite everything that's happened, I’ve laughed more today than I have in months.

***

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira@live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher@sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @themoonthestarsthesuriel @rarephloxes @timesconvert

[talkfantasytome]

Me: Cassian is just a giant teddy bear, a big ball of fluff, a puppy who follows Nesta around.

ACOWAR, Chapter 56:

Mud and blood splattered Cassian’s dark helmet, his armor.

He ditched his tall shield for a round one strapped across his back, crafted from the same ebony metal.

And then he launched into a run.

I could have sworn even Rhys paused on the other end of the battlefield to watch as Cassian cut his way through those enemy soldiers, aiming for the mounted Hybern commander. Who realized what and who was coming for him and started to search for a better weapon.

Cassian had been born for this—these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.

He didn’t stop moving, seemed to know where every opponent fought both ahead and behind, seemed to breathe in the flow of the battle around him. He even let his Siphons’ shield drop—to get close, to feel the impact of the arrows that he took in that ebony shield. If he slammed that shield into a soldier, his other arm was already swinging his sword at the next opponent.

I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance.

I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, “For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.”

Her eyes did not stray from Cassian’s death-dance.

Three soldiers were brave or stupid enough to try to charge him. Cassian had them down and dying with four maneuvers.

“Holy Mother,” I breathed.

That was who had been training me.

Why Fae trembled at his name. Why the high-born Illyrian warriors had been jealous enough to want him dead.

But there Cassian was, no one between him and the commander.

The commander had found a discarded spear. He threw it.

Fast and sure, I skipped a heartbeat as it spiraled for Cassian.

His knees bent, wings tucked in tight, shield twisting—

He took the spear in the shield with an impact I could have sworn I heard, then sliced off the shaft and kept running.

Within a heartbeat, Cassian had sheathed both shield and sword across his back.

And I would have asked why but he’d already picked up another fallen spear.

Already hurled it, his entire body going into the throw, the movement so perfect that I knew I’d one day paint it.

Both armies seemed to stop at the throw.

Even with the distance, Cassian’s spear hit home.

It went right through the commander’s chest, so hard it knocked the male clean off his horse.

By the time he was done falling, Cassian was there.

His sword caught the sunlight as it lifted and plunged down.

Cassian had picked his mark well. Hybern fled now. Outright turned and fled for the river.

Oh, right....

[bloodycassian]

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt: 

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will)  and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone.  He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it.  They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. +  The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy. 

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands. 

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.  

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?" 

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps. 

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate." 

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came. 

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached.  The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage.  --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him.  Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though.  As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again.  + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel.  "We need to make sure she's okay before we move."  Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened.  You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw.  Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-"  "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice.  Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring.  Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother.  +  "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better."  Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him.  "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards. 

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand.  Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way. 

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin. 

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow. 

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now.  "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared. 

[heartofbooksandtea]

Gwyn and Az go Solstice tree shopping

“This is it. This is the one,” Gwyn whispered. She turned to Azriel with a sparkle in her eyes he so rarely saw these days. He took a few more moments to stare into her teal eyes before turning to the tree she was talking about. If one could even call it that.

The sad little tree that had the priestess enamored stood at no more than three feet tall with its needles falling off and browning. Definitely not what one thought of when picturing a Solstice tree.

“Gwyn,” Azriel chuckled. “As much as I would love to see the look on Rhys’ face when he realizes that he should never again put us in charge of tree duty, I don’t think it would be appreciated right now.” Indeed, with strained court relations and another impending war, Rhys had seen better days. They all had. “Let’s cut him a break and maybe we can prank him next year.”

“Prank him? That was not my goal, Shadowsinger. This is truly the one I want.” Gwyn rasied her chin and arched an auburn brow as if challenging him to question her. Tucking his wings tightly behind him, Azriel prepared for battle. He gently took one of her gloved hands into his scarred one and placed a kiss upon the top.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that outfit, Berdara?” Indeed, she was bundled up in a long coat, hat, and gloves that had him fighting the urge to unwrap her like an early Solstice present right then and there. By the glare she shot him he didn’t think that was a possibility anyway.

“Don’t try to distract me, Shadowsinger. It won’t work. You know how stubborn I am.” Cauldron, did he ever. It was an aspect that came in handy in bed. He took his lower lip between his teeth as she crossed her arms over her chest. His attention apparently shifted, for she jokingly barked, “My eyes are up here, bat boy. Now tell me what you think is wrong with this tree.” She tapped her foot impatiently.

“Well, Gwyn, look at it. It’s… well…”

“It’s what? Imperfect? Flawed? Broken?” The last word was a whisper on her lips. “And yet it still stands. It may be all those things and more, Shadowsinger, but it has not let those characteristics and people like you wither it down to nothing.” With a poke to his chest, Gwyn stared past his eyes and right into his soul. And suddenly he understood. Realized why this broken little tree, always looked at but never truly seen, was so important to her. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and wrapped her in his arms. Careful of his wings, she squeezed him back tightly.

Azriel turned his head and whispered in her ear, “I’m proud of you, Gwyneth. For everything you have survived and continue to face every day. I see you and there is not a part of you I do not love with every piece of my healing soul. A soul that you have been putting back together with your stubborn and fierce heart.” With a final kiss on her cheek, Azriel pulled back to find tears in the Valkyrie’s ocean eyes.

Gwyn cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes before the tears had a chance to fall. “Don’t let Cassian hear you talk like that. He’ll never let you live it down,” she said softly, that prideful gleam slowly returning. Azriel chuckled as his shadows let out what felt like a collective breath of relief at seeing their priestess’s smile return.

With a sigh, Gwyn turned to the little tree once more. Azriel stepped up behind her and placed a kiss on top of her head before resting his chin on it. He wrapped his arms around her and kept quiet as she gathered her thoughts.

After some rumination, Gwyn finally placed her gloved hands over his own. “Perhaps you’re right. Rhys and Feyre have enough to deal with without me bringing them some stupid deformed tree.” Though he could see the words hurt her, she continued. “They deserved a beautiful Solstice with a beautiful tree and we are going to give it to them.” With a final glance at her little friend, Gwyn straightened her shoulders and set off to find a larger tree.

Azriel knew that the tears would return later, in the dead of night. They always did. And he never failed to hold her as sobs wracked her trembling body. If the shadowsinger’s only purpose in this life was to run his fingers through his brave Valkyrie’s hair and support her through her horrors, he would die a happy male.

He also knew that Gwyn’s tears would not be the result of sadness tonight. With a smile on his face, he strolled after his mate as he tucked away his plan. While the river estate was no place for the stubborn green fighter that captured Gwyn’s heart, Azriel thought there was no better place for it than their own home.

And Azriel had learned long ago that he would do anything to make Gwyneth Berdara the happiest female in all of Prythian.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

��If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?”

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

*

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

*

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.

[moodymelanist]

POV : THE GIRLS GETTING DRUNK AND GETTING THE BAT BOYS' AND MORRIGAN'S TATTOO ON THEIR... well Nesta might get it on her boob, emerie on her thigh and Gwyn on her stomach. Feyre would probably get it on the bottom of her foot for some reason.

OR

THe other way around. I don't mind....

okay imma go with Cassian getting Nesta’s name tatted because he’s the most likely to do something like that 😭😭😭

Nesta was only ten pages from the end of her book when Rhys and Azriel called her in a state of panic.

“Nesta you have to get down here right now,” Azriel said. She’d never heard her friend so alarmed and immediately sat up from where she’d been lounging on her bed.

“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked. Worst case scenarios raced through her mind — Cassian getting lost, Cassian seriously injured, Cassian dead.

“Cassian is doing something really fucking stupid,” Rhys said, his voice slurred.

Nesta took a deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm herself down. “Cassian does a lot of stupid things.”

“Yeah, but this one is really stupid,” Rhys insisted.

The last time Nesta had seen her boyfriend had been several hours ago. He’d gone out to celebrate being done with the school year with his friends, and had promised her that he wouldn’t do anything exceptionally stupid. She loved the man to pieces, but a part of her had known there was no way he would stick to that promise.

“Just tell me what he’s doing,” she said. “And why aren’t the two of you stopping him?”

“Because we’re drunk too,” Azriel replied. He let out a little snicker and Nesta sighed as she mentally added calling Gwyn to her to-do list. “Just come down here. You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later, Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn found themselves outside of what looked like a tattoo parlor. Emerie had insisted on tagging along, claiming she wanted to see the spectacle for herself, and Nesta was glad she had both of her best friends by her side. The three of them exchanged worried glances as they walked up to the door and Nesta knocked hard on the glass. She wasn’t sure how reputable a tattoo parlor open after midnight was, but whatever was going on, she hoped the answers would be found here.

A gorgeous blonde woman came to the front, looking the three of them over before she opened the door. “Is one of you Nesta?”

“Whatever he did, I’ll pay for it,” Nesta said, sighing.

“There’s nothing for you to pay for, but you have one hell of a boyfriend. He wouldn’t shut up about you,” the other woman said. She diverted her attention to Emerie, who Nesta knew was already staring, and smirked. “And I’m really hoping you don’t have one hell of a girlfriend.”

“No girlfriend,” Emerie replied. Gwyn let out a little laugh before the three of them walked inside Velaris Tattoos, going up a set of stairs before they saw any familiar faces.

Rhys was dozing on Azriel’s shoulder but immediately perked up when he saw Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn approaching. “You came!”

“Of course I did,” Nesta said. She looked around but didn’t see her boyfriend anywhere and her nerves returned in waves. “Where’s Cassian?”

“I’m back here, Nes!” he called out loudly. She followed the sound of his voice and saw him examining his right hand in the mirror above a sink. He turned to her with a wide grin and open arms and she couldn’t help but fall right into them.

“You’re not allowed to freak me out like that ever again,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I thought something was wrong with you!”

“Sorry,” he replied, his voice a little slurred. “I didn’t tell them to call you.”

“That’s your excuse?” Nesta looked up at him in disbelief. “What the hell are we even doing in a tattoo parlor, anyway? I thought I told you not to do anything stupid!”

“You said not to do anything exceptionally stupid,” Cassian pointed out. “But my love for you isn’t stupid.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, confused.

“I love you, Nesta Archeron,” he exclaimed. His voice boomed through the tattoo parlor and she fought the urge to call out an apology. “My love for you is never ending and officially permanent.”

She stared in disbelief as he flipped her off. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Look at my finger,” he insisted. She studied his hand and realized his middle finger was redder than normal and then she was reading her own name tattooed delicately across his skin.

“Oh my God,” she said, completely shocked. “Cassian.”

“What?” he asked. His smile shrank as he realized she wasn’t saying anything. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s not about whether I like it,” she hissed. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten her name on him permanently — what if he’d jinxed their relationship? “It’s just… permanent.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “That’s why I got it.”

“But what if we break up? What if you just jinxed us? What if—”

Cassian cupped his face in his hands, his callouses gently rubbing against her cheeks. “Sweetheart. I already told you I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you don’t know that,” Nesta insisted.

“Yeah, I do,” he said confidently. “I knew you were the woman for me the moment I met you. One of these days I’m going to make you my wife. Mark my words.”

“You’re just drunk,” she said, even though she was fighting a blush. He was so sweet without even trying and she loved that about him, almost as much as she wanted to throttle him for getting her name tattooed on him.

“You’re not marking my words,” he said. He gave her a stern look, but the effect was lost considering that he smelled like tequila. “And even if we break up — which we won’t — I think having your name on my middle finger will add that extra oomph when I tell people to fuck off.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh at his drunk logic, which made Cassian’s smile return in full force.

“God, you’re an idiot,” she said, smiling. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he’d gotten her name on his skin. She’d always been worried that he’d find someone better than her, but he clearly believed he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was time for her to actually believe it, too.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Her heart swelled as he leaned in to press a kiss to her nose. “But I’m your idiot.”

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 2

A fic where Gwyn strikes a deal with Azriel, but neither are ready to deal with the consequences. 

This is a long finale, so buckle up and get ready. Also, the formatting will most definitely be better on Ao3. In my experience, tumblr struggles with anything over 20k words, and this well and truely goes over that. Happy reading!

Part 1 Masterlist Ao3

***

PART 2

The days blurred together for him. He stood there well after she had gone. Long enough that Cassian came to find him, leading him back into the House. Azriel knew Cassian was talking, expressing concern to him, but every time he tried to open his mouth no words came out. Nesta saw him, fear in her eyes, and she rushed away to find Gwyn.

Rhys came at some point, but Azriel ignored him. He didn’t blame Rhys for what had happened between him and Gwyn, but there was a traitorous part of him that couldn’t help but see the look of utter disgust on Rhys’ face when he saw first-hand how much Azriel wanted her and whispered even your brother knows you shouldn’t have her.

Everything was monotonous after that in a way he never could have anticipated. The only time he ever truly felt anything was when he saw Gwyn during training, but she avoided him and he respected her wishes. She must hate him, surely, for rejecting her so callously. Especially when they were so close to sleeping together.

Azriel would happily never touch a woman again if it meant they could just go back to how they were before. The casual kisses, the spooning in bed, the waking up to her teal eyes piercing right through him.

“You have a letter,” Cassian said one day, thwacking the letter onto the table in front of him. “Picked it up in Illyria.”

There was only one person who sent him letters from Illyria, and he eagerly opened the paper to see what was written.

Dear Azriel,

It has been too long, and I miss you dearly. I’ve arranged to come to Velaris to see you for a week next month.

All the love I’ve ever had,

Your mother.

***

“I can only masturbate so much, Emerie!”

“Well then don’t.” She smirked. “Find someone pretty to do it for you. Might I suggest Azriel?”

Both Nesta and Gwyn threw their pillows at her head. “That’s over. Destroyed. Dead. And! Might I add! I’m still very horny!”

They all burst out laughing, which only intensified when Emerie rolled off the bed.

“Oh no, your wine!” Gwyn gasped through her giggles. “It’s okay, I have plenty to share.”

Nesta yoinked the bottle from Gwyn’s hand before she had a chance to drink it straight. Either that or pour it into Emerie’s mouth. Gwyn crawled over to her sister, draping herself across Nesta’s lap.

“You’re such a good friend. You’d never let me get too drunk.”

“You’re far past drunk. Luckily for you, I am sober and able to help you through such a time.”

“I’m okay!” Emerie jumped up with her hands in the air. She leaped back onto the bed and joined Gwyn in Nesta’s lap. “Do you want to borrow Mor? She’s very good at getting rid of the horny.” She wiggled her fingers in Gwyn’s face and spread her wings so that they wrapped around Gwyn and Nesta, her legs hanging off the side of Nesta and Cassian’s bed.

“Pimping out Morrigan is probably not a good idea,” Nesta scolded.

“No, not like that!” Emerie pouted. “She is very good though. She does this thing with her tongue that is,” she kissed her fingers like a chef, “amazing.”

Gwyn loved that Emerie was so happy. Approximately a month after the end of her and Azriel, Emerie had sat down her and Nesta and told them she was in love with Mor. Gwyn was elated, and Nesta tried her best to be. It was harder for her. She had such a bitter past with Mor, and Gwyn worried for a moment that Emerie and Mor being together might cause a schism in their group. But to her relief, there was nothing Nesta wouldn’t do for Emerie, and she banished any ghosts between her and Mor. The two were nearly even friends, and it made Cassian’s life easier.

Not that there was any question between who he would choose between. His mate would always win those battles.

Gwyn was also jealous. Not of Mor, but of what Emerie had with Mor. She dreamt of that kind of reciprocated love, of the unrelenting devotion that Mor showed to Emerie.

Gwyn sighed. “Azriel let me sit on his face whenever I wanted. He used to gobble me right up.”

A new round of laughter burst from the group, and Gwyn was happy that she could share this secretive part of her life with them. It had taken her weeks to sit them down and tell them what happened. Or, more accurately, they were so worried about her that they stole her away from the library and begged to know why she was so sad. Nesta had tried in those initial days, but she just waved her off and begged not to ask. Besides, Nesta didn’t need Gwyn to tell her what had happened for her to know. Nesta went from blabbering about them all raising their babies together to watching Gwyn fall apart, Azriel nowhere to be seen.

It had lasted less than two months, yet he felt as much a part of her as her freckles, her hands, her smile.

“Okay okay, I think that’s enough. Bed time for us.” Nesta ushered them off her lap and put their pillows back at the head of the bed. Nesta helped a stumbling Emerie to the bathroom, and Gwyn wiggled into her usual place to wait for her sister to return. Her eyes were already starting to droop, and by the time Nesta and Emerie climbed into bed, she was half-asleep.

Nesta was in the middle, and both Emerie and Gwyn snuggled in close to her. Nesta stroked their hair, willing them to sleep, and Gwyn dozed off with the dream of Nesta and Catrin morphing together.

***

“I just wanted to say goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Gwyn stirred awake, a headache starting to throb. Cassian’s voice woke her, but it was still dark enough that it surely was the middle of the night. He must have been returning from the job Rhys had sent him and Azriel on.

“Goodnight, my love,” Nesta whispered, her voice dripping with unbridled affection.

Half-awake, half-drunk Gwyn was annoyed at the intrusion to their sleep over, and burrowed further into the blankets, her grip on Nesta tightening. She could hear the quiet snore of Emerie from the other side of Nesta, the sound oddly comforting.

“Do they always sleep like that?”

She stiffened at the voice of Azriel. They had barely spoken since their timely demise, and she was still drunk enough to get angry instead of sad at his presence.

“Yes, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Nesta’s arm was around her as Gwyn squished herself into Nesta’s side.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Cassian murmured.

“Don’t do that,” Azriel hissed.

Gwyn was tempted to open her eyes and see what was happening, but she didn’t want to interrupt the moment. She heard feet shuffling, and Azriel’s voice sounder closer when he spoke again.

“Don’t lean over Gwyn like that. You’ll scare her if she wakes up and sees some male standing over her.”

A pause in the room. Gwyn felt Nesta press a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re right. Sorry. Goodnight, Nes.”

“Night Cas. Night Az.”

***

Gwyn left choir practise with her heart feeling heavy. Usually, singing would uplift her more than anything else, but as of late she struggled to do anything but drag her feet from one task to the next.

Nesta was at her side as much as possible and it made Gwyn feel awfully guilty. Gwyn didn’t eat dinner very often at the House anymore in an effort to make Azriel feel comfortable. She knew that they had told each other they were friends, best friends even, but she didn’t want him to feel like she was forcing her presence on him.

She also had not been sleeping well, at all, but she brushed the memories of her dreams aside before they overtook her.

“Gwyn!”

Speaking of Nesta, Gwyn turned to see her friend waving at her from across the library, a cart full of books at her side. Gwyn didn’t realise Nesta was working this evening and went over to help her put the books away.

“How was practise?” she asked.

“It was nice. Lunathina gave out the solos for our next performance. I didn’t get one. She said that my attitude wasn’t right.”

“Oh Gwyn, I’m sorry. I know you really wanted one.”

“Eh, it doesn’t matter. There’s always next time.” Gwyn shrugged and got to work, prearranging the books in the cart and putting them into alphabetical order so that Nesta could put them away as groups.

“I was thinking maybe you would like to come to the House tonight. It misses you.”

That put a small smile on her face. “How do you know?”

“It still sets out a meal for you or gives us an extra drink like you’ll appear to have it. It’s been sad, Azriel banished it from his room so it wants to give everyone else a bit of extra love.”

Gwyn raised a brow. “What do you mean, Azriel banished the House from his room?”

“It’s something we do sometimes, just ask it to leave for a little while so we can have some privacy, and then it’ll come back in the morning to make sure the fires are lit and our rooms are clean. Never for long though, and it’s been weeks for Azriel. Before you ask why, I genuinely don’t know.”

Gwyn bit her lip, contemplating Nesta’s words. She couldn’t help the worry she felt for Azriel, even if it was over something as silly as not having an omnipresent being clean his room for him.  “I only ever see him at training, and we don’t speak. Is he okay?”

Nesta had her back to Gwyn as she put more books on the shelf. “Honestly? I have no idea. Azriel can hide his emotions better than anyone else I know. Cassian is concerned, though. He said it reminds him of how he used to act whenever Mor would sleep with other men to drive him away. But even then he said that usually this mood would only last for a few days before he stopped, and now it’s been over a month.”

Gwyn and Azriel had spoken extensively on his history with Mor – how Azriel had loved her for so long, and it wasn’t until after the war with Hybern that he finally felt like could move on – and now it was evident why she could never love him back. Mor being with Emerie explained something Gwyn could never understand, which is how Mor could possibly not return his love. She understood now that Mor could never hold those romantic feelings for a male, nor spend physical time with Azriel without breaking his fragile heart. It was an awful situation that lasted far longer than it needed to.

Gwyn secretly thought that perhaps Azriel knew deep down Mor would never love him, and that was why he held on so tightly to the idea of her. Maybe, subconsciously, he vied for females he knew ultimately he couldn’t have as a way of protecting himself from having something real – something that could hurt.

Or maybe Gwyn thought that to excuse how she wasn’t enough to make him love her.

“And he hasn’t talked about his feelings to anyone? Not even Cas?”

“Cassian said that Azriel has never really been the one to talk about how he’s feeling. He and Rhys have struggled with it their entire lives. It’s like Az just shuts down and then – wait, oh, Gwyn, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be talking about Az so much.”

Gwyn wanted to hug her for being so considerate. Then hit her over the head for not having better intel on Azriel.

“It’s fine, really.” Gwyn considered Nesta’s words. Gwyn had told Azriel that they were friends, and she felt like an awfully neglectful friend right now. Because the thing was, Gwyn never struggled to get Az to speak about how he was feeling. They were unbelievably honest with each other, and she didn’t think about how her absence might feel if he had no one else to share himself with.

He had trusted her with his heart, and she’d left it on the floor when she’d walked away from him all those nights ago.

“I’ll come to dinner, Nesta.”

***

Azriel flew back to Velaris, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face as he soared through the skies. It was the only time he ever felt at peace. Once, he would say that the sky and his bed were his only refuges, but he had thoroughly managed to taint one of those spaces with his own inferiority and weaknesses.

He had a report to give to Rhys, and he planned on roaming the skies again for a while. He didn’t want to go out for dinner, but he also didn’t want to eat sitting across from Nesta and Cassian as they studied and pitied him.

He let himself into their mansion, following the playful shrieks of Nyx to find his High Lord and Lady. Rhys and Nyx were in Nyx’s designated play room, and Rhys was lying on his back holding Nyx in the air, the baby flapping his little wings and pretending to fly. Feyre was nowhere to be seen, and his shadows informed him that she was napping after Nyx had a bad night’s sleep.

“Look who it is!” Rhys cooed at Nyx. “It’s crabby Uncle Az here to grace us with his presence.” Rhys turned Nyx in Azriel’s direction, and Azriel had to admit, some of the heaviness he’d been feeling dissipated at the sight of Nyx grinning at him. At least someone was happy to see him.

Azriel threw the report haphazardly on a desk and picked Nyx right out of Rhys’ grasp, bringing the boy to his chest. He was a real chuncker, and Azriel would be surprised if he didn’t start walking within a few weeks. Nyx’s little hands grabbed at Azriel’s nose, giggling furiously as he tried to steal it right off Azriel’s face.

“You know, it’s rather rude to steal someone’s child,” Rhys said.

“You’ll live.”

Azriel pressed a quick kiss to Nyx’s forehead and handed him back, feeling surprisingly longing as he looked at Rhys with his child.

He turned to leave, but Rhys’ voice stopped him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Azriel didn’t turn to look at his brother but did stop walking. “I’ve been busy.”

“Not so busy that you haven’t had time to come see us for weeks. Do you want to stay? Feyre misses you.”

“Feyre has a family to keep her occupied.” Azriel turned the knob to the door, and he felt an invisible hand clutch his ankle before he could take another step.

“I thought maybe you would like to talk about things.”

Azriel’s shadows flared around him at the implications. Where they were once silent, they know constantly buzzed with information on her.

She’s barely sleeping. She works from sun up to sun down, and if she’s not in the library she’s training. She only sings if she’s in choir practise, no longer humming as she walks. She only eats one meal a day-

Azriel had to consciously push the information away any time his shadows tried to swarm him with it. He didn’t want to know how much he’d done the one thing he swore he never would – hurt her.

The only thing that stopped him from running to her and begging on his knees for her to give him another chance was the knowledge that, with time, she would heal. And she would give her love to someone far more deserving, someone far better than him.

Fuck. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her so badly and he fucking hated himself for it.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I’m leaving. Nesta and Cassian are expecting me.” The lie came easily.

“Az,” Rhys’ voice was strained, “please stay.”

“Goodbye.”

“I saw how you looked at her at the restaurant. I know you love-”

“Shut up, Rhys,” Azriel snapped. He regretted it the moment he saw how wide Nyx’s eyes went at the sudden loud noise, and his chest filled with pain as the babe’s lower lip jutted out and his mouth started to crinkle the way it would before a cry.

“Nyx, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud.” He looked at Rhys for permission to take Nyx from his arms, grateful when his brother nodded and handed him over.

Nyx was cooing within no time, and Azriel scolded himself for acting in such a way in front of the baby. He cradled Nyx to his chest, and not for the first time, he was nearly overtaken by the envy he had for his brothers. Rhys had a whole family, a mate and child, and he didn’t need anyone else. Cassian had Nesta, and Azriel doubted it would be long before they too split away to make a real family. Even Mor was now with Emerie, and had confided in him that she thought they were mates, she was just waiting for it all to click into place.

The perfect circle that was Azriel’s family was being cut into perfect slices, and soon, he would be on his own.

“I’m sorry I yelled, Nyx,” Azriel said again, hoping the little boy could understand his remorse. He didn’t know if it was a good sign, but Nyx closed his little eyes and started to doze, his fist bunched in Azriel’s flying leathers.

“Azriel.” Rhys came and put a hand on his shoulder, and Azriel had to make a conscious effort not to shake it off. “I said some stuff about Gwyn that I never would have if I had known. I didn’t realise that she was acting different because she was with you, and I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t believe me when I told you to let it go. I know you opened a formal investigation about her behind my back.”

“How did you-”

“Which you did after she came to that restaurant with us. Let’s not pretend that if it hadn’t come up empty you wouldn’t be gloating about being right.” Azriel carefully handed Nyx back, the baby stretching his arms up at the disturbance but staying asleep.

“I had a duty to fulfil, Azriel. Good reasons to check. Now I know there’s no threat, and we can all move on.”

Azriel sighed, pinching his nose. “You can move on. I can clean up the messes you left behind to make sure she never knows about this.”

Azriel later pondered Rhys’ words, wondering how and when the bond with his brother had become less familial and more hierarchical. When he finally flew into the House of Wind, he could hear the gentle voice of Gwyn as she ate with Nesta and Cassian, and Az felt an overwhelming sense of relief that she was back in the House. Not wanting to disturb them, he went to his room, burying himself in his bedding.

***

Azriel waited patiently at the House of Wind, knowing Cassian would arrive with his mother soon. Usually, they would have stayed in the townhouse, but Azriel was feeling petty enough that he didn’t want to reside in something owned by Rhys, nor ask him if he could use it.

Not that that stopped his brother from invading the kitchen. He was stoically standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his usual prim High Lord outfit matching Feyre’s. She was talking with Nesta and Mor, Nyx crawling around their skirts. Even Emerie was here.

One person was notably missing. The one person Azriel truly wanted here.

He heard the familiar sounds of Cassian’s wings beating and a twinkled laughter that could only belong to one. Some of the tension eased in him at the sound, and for the first time in a while, he looked forward to the coming days.

His mother was proper as she walked in, her back straight and shoulders back. She still wore the standard uniform of a maid. It was not the same one he’d grown up seeing her wear. No, she had not donned the dress of his father since Rhys had become High Lord.

Azriel had invited her many times to come live in Velaris, but after constant declines, he learned to stop asking.

Her face became radiant when she saw him and she rushed to his side. She was nearly as tall as him, and she always used it to her advantage to baby him. He happily welcomed it, hugging her tightly as she peppered kisses to his face like he was a toddler.

“Oh baby boy, I missed you.”

Az scrunched his nose, leaning away to inspect her. She looked healthy. She looked happy. That was enough.

Her assessment of him was not so glowing. As she looked over his sunken face and glaring shadows, concern laced itself into her joy. “Have you been eating?” she asked, ever motherly.

“Yes.”

“And sleeping?”

“Yes.”

She turned to Rhys and Cassian. “Is that true?”

Rhys answered yes the same time Cassian said no, and Azriel slid that into his mental notes for later so that he could reprimand Cassian for worrying his mother.

Before his mother could say anything else, he spread his arms to present her to the room. “Mother, I would like to introduce you to High Lady Feyre.”

Feyre stepped forward, excitement glittering all over her. Feyre was eager to meet his mother, wanting to have any shred of past that the Illyrian males she called her family could offer. And after all, she was the only one of their mothers who was still alive.

Azriel’s mother approached her, taking Feyre’s hands in hers. “Hello, sweet one. It is lovely to meet you.”

“And you.” Feyre squeezed her hands back before turning to Nesta and Emerie. “This is my sister Nesta and our friend Emerie-”

“The first females in the Bloodrite, and one of the few winners. How could I not know who you are?” Azriel’s mother beamed at them, and Nesta stepped forward to shake her hand. Azriel thought it rather endearing. Nesta wasn’t the biggest fan of touching unless it was with those whom she loved, and another small part of him eased to see his dear friend making an effort with his mother.

“Welcome to our home,” Nesta said. “Cassian, Azriel and I hope you find it to your liking.”

“In all my years I’ve never made it up to the foreboding mansion of the mountains. I’m excited to see the place that Rhys’ mother spoke so fondly of.” She turned and opened her arms to Cassian and Rhys, the former enthusiastically throwing himself into her arms. If there was one thing you could always count on Cassian for, it was unparalleled affection. Azriel’s mother laughed lightly at his antics. Cassian was acting like he hadn’t just flown her all the way here from Illyria.

Rhys eased her away from Cassian, giving her a hug of his own. Azriel could hear his mother speaking, “You have made yourself such a beautiful family my dear, congratulations,” but chose to instead turn away and approach Feyre, who had picked up Nyx in the anticipation of shoving him into Azriel’s mother’s arms.

Mor greeted her next, and Azriel ignored their conversation in lieu of brushing non-existent dust off the surfaces in the House. Mor and his mother speaking always made him feel unnerved, like it was two untouchable parts of his life colliding together. There was the childhood part of him – the dark rooms and the pain and the dehumanisation – and then there was the version of himself that he became after his mother made the ultimate sacrifice in sending him away – the cursed warrior with scarred hands but, above all else, power.

“Would you like a tour of the House?” Nesta offered, Cassian walking to her side and putting an arm around her waist. He looked so damn proud of being able to show off his mate that it made Azriel want to dig a very big hole and hide in it, but in the name of his love for them both, he refrained from it.

Feyre had finally squirreled Nyx into his mother’s hands, and she was bumping him up and down to make him laugh.

“Aren’t we waiting?” she asked.

“Waiting for what?” Rhys tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously.

“Waiting for Gwyneth.”

The room went silent, and Azriel hated how all their eyes turned to him. Of course they knew of everything. Cassian, Nesta and Emerie unsurprisingly, not that he would have expected nor wanted anything else, but how could he expect Emerie not to tell Mor now that they were lovers? How could he expect Feyre and Rhys not to whisper amongst themselves at his failures?

“I didn’t know you knew of Gwyn,” Emerie said, her smile welcoming but her eyes wary at the mention of her sister.

“Of course, she won the Bloodrite alongside you.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Emerie tapped her head in embarrassment.

“And Azriel talks about her quite frequently.”

“Really?” Rhys practically squeaked from behind them. The sound of a thwack sounded throughout the room. Feyre stood innocently next to Rhys smiling while he rubbed his back.

“Yes.” Azriel’s mother turned to Emerie. “Azriel writes to me every few weeks. He told me of the training you do here with the females. The Valkyrie were the mightiest of warriors, it’s good to see their memory being upheld.” She moved over to Az and pinched his cheek. The hole looked more and more enticing with every minute passed. “The amount he talks about her, you should have seen her cut the ribbon, she was the first to come train, she’s the bravest warrior I have, it’s very clear he has a bias in his students. She must be your favourite, right Azriel?”

Azriel’s face was red at her words. His favourite student, ha! That was one way to put it.

“I’ve been so excited to meet the young lady, will she be here soon?”

Nesta, who Azriel owed his life to in this moment, answered for him. “Gwyn works in the library, mostly as a research assistant. She’s a very hard worker, and unfortunately won’t be able to make it. Perhaps you could come see us train tomorrow.”

“Won’t she be joining us for dinner?”

“Gwyn prefers to stay in the library or House,” Emerie answered. “As we’ll be going into the city, Gwyn will stay here.”

Azriel’s mother looked disappointed at the news, and he tried to remember all the times he had mentioned Gwyn in his letters since he’d met her. Surely it wasn’t that much. The look on his mother’s face though had him doubting himself, and he made another note to himself not to mention her from this day forward.

Suddenly she clapped, any disappointed erasing from her. “I have an idea, let’s just go to her! We can go find her in the library.”

Bombarding Gwyn with his mother in the library? No, absolutely not.

“That’s not possible I’m afraid. Males can’t just enter the library, there’s steps that need to be followed if we want to go in there. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, mother.” Azriel would have Nesta warn Gwyn tonight.

“Then I’ll go with Nesta while you ready yourself for dinner. You need to take a shower, dear. And some fresh clothes would do you some good.” She patted him on the head as though she hadn’t just implied that he smelt.

Azriel looked to Nesta, willing them to have their first telepathic moment. Before either of them had the chance to say something, Rhys piqued up from behind them.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.”

***

Gwyn willed herself to remember that she liked reading, but by the Cauldron the historical texts in front of her were boring to the point where her eye lids felt heavy. She was slumped over a desk, her head resting in her hand, and her yawns overtook her whole body. Maybe she went a little too hard in training this morning. But she’d heard some of the women whispering about Azriel’s glorious physique, and she’d had to pummel the shit out of a multitude of things to get the picture of Azriel with other females out of her head. She knew nothing would ever happen between him and anyone she knew, but she had to brace herself for the inevitability that he would move on, if he hadn’t already.

“Is that her?”

“Yes.”

The sound of Nesta’s voice revived her, and she blinked heavily as she turned to look for her.

She was not expecting to see Nesta standing next to an Illyrian female she had never seen before.

She had dark hair and amber eyes, a startingly familiar shade, and carried her wings in the same distinct way Emerie did. They’d been clipped then. She was much taller than Gwyn. She was wearing a tan uniform, and Gwyn could see a hint of scars lacing up her wrist and collar. Under her gaze, the female adjusted her clothes, hiding the ghosts of old injuries from Gwyn.

She must be a new recruit. Gwyn remembered how scared she was when she first came to the library, how isolated and despaired she felt. It had taken many warm welcomes and friendly faces for her to adjust, and she hoped she could be that for this Illyrian.

Taking inspiration from Catrin, Nesta and Emerie, she put the brightest, most loving smile she could manage, trying to exude acceptance.

“Hello there,” she said. She stood up, walking over to Nesta and their new friend. “I’m Gwyn, it’s lovely to meet you.”

The woman said her name in a flurry, rushing forward to Gwyn. Gwyn squashed her exclaim when the new woman pulled her into her arms, hugging her tightly. Gwyn, somewhat shocked that a new resident of the library would so immediately want another’s touch, hugged her back, subtly trying to spit out the hair that had made it into her mouth at the sudden movement.

“You are exactly as I pictured,” she said, her eyes alight as she stepped back and looked Gwyn up and down.

“As you pictured…?”

“Yes, yes. After you won the Bloodrite, many Lords tried to keep secret what had happened. But something like that cannot be swept under the rug. There are stories of you three all through the camps. We would tell them in the kitchen, whisper them in empty hallways, any way someone could spread the word that three females, all of different decent, had won the Bloodrite.”

Gwyn didn’t know how to respond to the knowledge of her new-found infamy.

“You should come to dinner tonight, I would love to hear the story from you three ladies first-hand. My baby boy gave me some of the details but bless his heart he isn’t much of a storyteller.”

“You have a son?” An Illyrian son at that. Had he been in the Bloodrite? Had Gwyn faced him without even knowing? And this woman had left him to be here? Gwyn was horrified at what that meant, what awful event must have befallen her for her to need to leave her life and family to reside in the library.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Gwyn,” Nesta thankfully interrupted, “her son is Azriel.”

Gwyn stopped dead. “As in my- as in Azriel, Azriel? Azriel who you live with Azriel?” She’d nearly said my Azriel, but that was as inappropriate as it was inaccurate. Azriel wasn’t her anything. Barely even her friend these days.

“I feel like I already know you,” Azriel’s mother said as though this wasn’t a huge revelation. “He speaks incredibly highly of you.”

Gwyn tried to keep the look of utter shock off her face; she wasn’t sure how successful she was. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognise you, but I’ve heard so much about you too. Azriel and I used to joke that you and my mother would be the greatest of friends.”

“Well, where is she? I would like to make another friend.”

“Oh, she died. Sorry, I now realise that I made it sound like she was still alive-”

“My dear, you never need to apologise to me.” The look she gave Gwyn was motherhood embodied, and it was every expression Gwyn had seen on her own’s mother’s face time and time again.  

“I was hoping you would consider coming to dinner with us tonight. It is of my understanding that you don’t like Velaris very much.”

Gwyn’s breath shuddered, the familiar anxiety at the suggestion of going into the city started to beat through her veins. “It’s not that, I love Velaris. I just – I just, it’s just that.” Nesta looked like she might step in, so Gwyn steeled herself. “Will Azriel be there?” They mightn’t be… whatever the hell they were, but she could do this if he was there.

But what if he didn’t want her there? He might not know his mother was here asking her. What if Gwyn went into the city and needed him and he wouldn’t help her? Ugh, but that was stupid. Of course he would help her. There was not a single part of him that would hesitate if she needed him. But she also didn’t want to take his time away from him. His mother was here after all, and she knew how seldom he saw her.

Azriel’s mother put her fingertips on Gwyn’s temples. “Lots of thoughts going on up here.”

Gwyn nodded.

“I understand your hesitance. There are still places I avoid, even after hundreds of years.”

Gwyn didn’t need to ask why. Azriel had gone into painful detail about his past, and she revered the strength his mother had in the sacrifices she’d made for him, for her endless love for the son she could have dismissed.

“My son will be there. It’s my understanding that the entirety of the group he has for himself will be, including your Nesta and Emerie. But I understand if it’s not the right time.”

Gwyn swallowed hard. “What time should I meet you all at the House?”

***

Azriel knew that the first day or two of his mother’s visit he’d have to share her around, not that he minded. He also knew that, like everyone, she’d gravitate towards Nyx. So, he watched from the sidelines with Cassian as his mother asked Feyre and Rhys every question under the sun. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her about meeting Gwyn, and Nesta hadn’t returned from the library with his mother, so he couldn’t interrogate her either.  

When his shadows finally informed him Nesta was coming back, they conveniently left out the part where Gwyn was with her.

So they were back to playing that game with him.

He lost his ability to breathe when he saw her. She looked the same as she always did – beautiful. Half her hair was braided away from her face, the rest falling down her back. It was the first time he’d seen her outside of training since he’d crushed them.

It took everything in him not to run to her. When he looked into her eyes, he knew she was having the same struggle.

“Gwyn, I’m glad you could make it,” his mother said, approaching her. She patted Gwyn on the arm before addressing the room. “Are we ready to go?”

A chorus of yeses and curious glances followed her question, the latter aimed at Gwyn. She shrugged her shoulders at Emerie and avoided looking at Rhys and Feyre. She must be under the impression that they didn’t like her. Mental note number three, confront them both so that Gwyn doesn’t think she’s not welcome.

“Azriel, be a gentleman and offer to fly with Gwyn,” his mother chastised, moving over to Rhys so they could fly together. Feyre would be taking Nyx, Cassian with Nesta and Emerie, and Mor planned on just jumping off the side of the building until she could winnow – a technique that always made him roll his eyes.

Azriel approached Gwyn. His heart felt like it was full of fireflies and sweat started to coat his hands. Send him to war and he was as steady as a mountain, send him to Gwyn and he was the fitful sea in a storm.

His family departed around them, and soon they were left standing alone. Azriel had no doubt they’d done it intentionally, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful or not.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hey.” He stepped towards her slowly, trying to calm his heartbeat as he did.

“I – I don’t have to come, if it makes you uncomfortable,” she whispered.

“What? No. No, you could never – Gwyn, I would never feel uncomfortable around you.”

She nodded.

“Gwyn-” he said at the same time she said “Az.”

They both laughed lightly. “You first,” she said.

“I’m surprised you’re coming tonight. I hope my mother didn’t pressure you.”

“No, not at all. She just made a rather compelling case.”

“What case would that be?”

“She said you’d be here.” Gwyn swallowed hard.

Azriel nodded, understanding. He might not understand the nuance of how Gwyn was feeling if not for the fact that they had faced this same predicament before. The feeling that settled in his chest knowing that she trusted him so implicitly to go into the city not once, but twice, had him bowing his head before her.

How badly he wanted to touch her – stroke the soft skin on her arms, settle a hand on her back, twine his fingers in her hair.

If he flew her into the city, how could be ever let her go?

She closed the distance between them, her hands tentatively landing on his shoulders. Soon, they would wrap around his neck as he held her like a bride, flying them through the city. But before that, he needed to know he could endure just this touch without breaking apart and begging for her forgiveness.

She came closer, her arms wrapping around him and her body pressing into his. She could surely hear his rapid heartbeat.

“Azriel.”

“Yes, Gywneth?”

“It might be a little hard to fly with me if you don’t touch me.” She tilted her head back to look into his eyes, and he was pained when he saw the hurt there. “Is this too much?” She stepped back from him, but he matched every step, keeping them only inches away from each other.

“It is not too much,” he assured her, voice deep.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

He couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him. He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head towards him. Her eyes met his, and the temptation to kiss her was nearly too much. Instead, he said, “You are my best friend, Gwyneth Berdara. My favourite person. It is not, nor will it ever be, an obligation to spend time with you.”

She sighed softly, and laid her hands over his, linking her fingers. “I’ve missed being friends.”

“Me too.” I’ve missed you, is what he wanted to really say, but that felt like too much pressure to put on her. As much as it pained him to spend even a single second away from her, he knew she made the right decision when telling him they could not just happen once. Azriel would have spent his whole life dedicating himself to her, but it would have been a disservice to her. There was so much in this world that she hadn’t seen, and whoever the person was that would complete her, be her equal, her happiness, was not him. For they were not the same; he could never be as wholly good as her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and this time he did not flinch from the touch. Handling her carefully, he put one hand around her waist while the other picked up her legs. Holding her the way Cassian had held Nesta the day of their wedding ceremony when he’d marched her across the threshold, Azriel spread his wings and flew.

***

A truce had been called, and Gwyn was glad for it.

In Azriel’s arms, everything just seemed so right. She also decided to acquiesce to her trust in him; if Azriel said that she neither made him uncomfortable nor was an obligation, she would believe him. Even if it was just so she could be closer to him.

The way she missed him was unlike any way she had felt before. Like the way she could acknowledge her love for people were different although equal, like the way she loved Emerie and Nesta was different to the way she loved Cassian, which was different to the way she loved her mother, the way she missed Azriel was a feeling she had yet to experience.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what this meant. She had after all read over a hundred romance novels just this year.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Az said, his grip on her tightening.

“I’m just enjoying the view.” She rested her head on his shoulder, the sun set bathing them in a warm, orange light.

“Me too.” But he was looking at her.

***

The restaurant they were in reminded Gwyn of the dining hall her and Catrin frequented at Sangravah’s temple. It was huge, the ceilings high and echo-y, the floor a deep brown with matching wooden tables. Whatever this building was when it had originally been erected, it wasn’t as a restaurant. Towards the back, there was live music playing while people danced, but towards the front of the restaurant, where they were seated, it was nice background noise instead of blaring.

Gwyn sat next to Nesta and Azriel and across from Feyre and Rhys. Gwyn silently wished she’d been closer to Emerie instead of the High Lord and High Lady. She didn’t know why, but they did not seem to like her very much anymore. Was it possible they’d learnt of her deal with Azriel, and their odd looks and side glances were their silent disapproval?

She ignored them by gorging herself on food and chatting with Azriel’s mother. She sat at the head of the table, Azriel was on the end, and was a fascinating person. Sometimes Gwyn forgot that the majority of people at this table were pushing it to their sixth century, and hearing Azriel’s mother speak of her life was enrapturing. Azriel and Rhys occasionally butted in, and poor Az had to endure Gwyn practically sitting in his lap as she leaned over him to better hear his mother. His hand on her lower back to steady her showed her that he didn’t mind, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t taking advantage. She wanted to be close to him.

When the food had been demolished and many stories told, they started taking fruitive looks at the fae dancing to the live music. Feyre and Rhys were the first to go, closely followed by Azriel’s mother, who decided that the giggling Nyx would be the perfect dance partner. Nesta kept sneaking glances at Gwyn, who eventually shooed her away to go dance with her mate.

Then it was just Az, Mor, Emerie and Gwyn, so they shuffled to be closer together. Mor and Emerie’s hands were entwined, and it brought a smile to Gwyn’s face. She had heard many things since they’d announced their love for one another but had yet to see it in action. She was glad to see how content Mor looked, no hesitation to be seen. Good. It was what Emerie deserved.

It also explained the weird looks she used to get from Morrigan, which were now simply hilarious when they used to be unsettling. Mor was jealous of all things, but the thought of Gwyn and Emerie being anything other than sisters was preposterous.

“Why are you squirming like that?” Mor drawled to Azriel, who had been shifting in his seat for the last twenty minutes.

He didn’t answer, just stared at her.

“You okay?” Gwyn asked, resting a hand on his knee.

“Yes.” He paused. “I need to use the bathroom. Will you be okay here?”

Oh Mother, she had nearly forgotten how sweet he was. But it was clear he’d been sitting in discomfort so that he didn’t have to leave her. Gwyn didn’t know if she could bare losing him, not when she’d only just gotten him back.

“I’ll be fine.” She added a smile to assure him, and he nodded. He scanned the area around them, and once deeming them safe, headed towards the back of the restaurant, closer to the music and amenities.

When Azriel had ducked into one of the rooms, Gwyn turned back to her friends, wanting to interrogate them on all things love-related. Before she had a chance, Mor grabbed them each by the hand, a wild smile on her face.

“Let’s dance.”

Emerie shook her head. “We’re not leaving Gwyn alone.”

“No, all three of us.”

Emerie raised a brow and said in a hushed voice, “We talked about this-”

“No, no, not like that,” Mor laughed. “A friendly dance. I want to move my body.” The eyes Mor gave Emerie gave Gwyn quite the hint on how Mor intended to move her body, hopefully not until they were in their own home and bed.

Emerie bit back a smile, turning to Gwyn. “Would you like to dance with us?”

Oddly enough, Gwyn’s answer was yes. She wanted to feel as free as Morrigan did.

Mor led them to the dance floor, where they held hands in a circle and just twirled. Nesta and Cassian, neither of whom had drunk that night, cheered them on. Mor definitely had her fair share though, her hair loose and mind unencumbered with worry. Gwyn envied that, hoping she could one day be the same. Whatever Mor was doing, she wanted in.

They had only been there a minute when they were approached by a stranger. He was the tall, dark and handsome type that Gwyn had become used to reading about in her novels, and although she could see the eyes of many males and females staring at him in unabashed desire, she found him… lacking. Perhaps she applied mediocrity to him because, to put it plainly, he did not compare to what she’d already had.

“Ladies.” He nodded to them, a smirk on his pretty face. He looked at their hands. “How would you like to dance?”

Gwyn couldn’t help her cackle. “Sorry, they’re not interested.” She tried to humble herself, but the thought of a male getting between Emerie and Mor – that was not happening, and it amused her endlessly.

“I wasn’t asking them.” He was focused on just her now.

Oh.

It made her feel…

How did she feel? Were the pricks in her stomach uneasiness or anticipation? She wasn’t attracted to him, that she knew for sure, but did she not just wish to be more like Morrigan? She knew what Mor would do – she would push her own boundaries.

Emerie opened her mouth to dismiss him, but Gwyn interrupted her.

“Okay.”

Emerie blanched in shock, and subtly moved to her side, throwing an arm around her shoulders seemingly haphazardly before whispering in her ear.

“What are you doing?”

Gwyn pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m trying to be like everyone else.”

Catrin would have danced with him. Catrin spread her love like it was the snow in winter, she would have danced with anybody.  

Gwyn took his outstretched hand, noticing the looks Cassian and Nesta gave her. Nesta stepped forward to intervene, stopped only by Cassian’s hand on her forearm.

“What is your name?” she asked the male as they stepped to the side. She dropped his hand, facing him. She wouldn’t touch him, and he wasn’t allowed to touch her yet either, but swaying in the general vicinity of one another counted as dancing, did it not?

Her hands were behind her back, her back straight. The message was clear: no touching.

“Elvin. Yours?”

“Nes.”

She didn’t even know why she lied, it just felt like too much to have this man in front of her and know her name. She wasn’t ready to reveal the parts of her identity that actually mattered. To him, she was just going to be a girl that danced.

He took a step forward. She took a step back.

“Is this how you dance with everyone?” he asked.

“Just those I don’t know,” she answered. Her breathing was becoming laboured, and this time she knew why. It was trepidation. She calmed herself the way any Valkyrie would, and persevered.

“We could know each other. You just have to come a bit closer.”

She let him inch closer but did not let their bodies touch. She guessed he was kind of attractive, not a bad place to start. She was surrounded by people that would go to combat for her in a second if needed, and she was more than able to fend for herself thanks her daily training. Azriel was just one shout away. She would be safe here.

Bracing herself, she raised her hands and let them fall on his shoulders. His smirk turned to a more genuine smile, and he thankfully kept his hands at his side as they swayed.

“Velaris isn’t a very big city, and I can’t say I’ve seen you before,” he said.

“I grew up in Sangravah,” Gwyn told him. After a moment of pause, she continued. “You may put your hands atop mine.” An odd dancing position, but one she was some-what okay with.

His eyes softened at her words. “I see.” He laid his hands atop hers, putting his arms into an odd angle. She tried not to laugh at how silly it was, but she was grateful he wasn’t pushing her.

The music was nice, but the back of her head burned from the intense looks she was getting from her sisters. It made her grin, knowing they were trying not to pounce.

It was not them she should have been taking note of.

She saw the door open first, Azriel finally coming out of the bathroom. He looked to the table, his brows furrowing, before quickly scanning the crowd and spotting her with Elvin. She couldn’t place the look on his face, but she did see Rhys step towards him, who Azriel shoved aside.

The shadows enveloped her first, then his wings as Azriel descended upon them. He didn’t even need to speak, his powerful body doing it all for him. He stepped between her and Elvin, his shadows wrapping around her ankles and waist.

“You’re done here,” he hissed at Elvin before turning away from him, his wings bristling with the promise of violence.

Elvin’s eyes widened in fear, and he backed off with him hands up, muttering apologies to the Shadowsinger.

Gwyn could have sworn the music stopped. That everyone was looking at her and judging her, but when Azriel swept her into his grasp she realised they hadn’t made a scene at all. Azriel had kept them hidden in his shadows.

“If you wanted to dance,” he rasped, “you should have asked me.” His lips were brushing against her ear, and the feeling made her arch into his chest.

“And you should know I can handle myself. I’m not the same female you met all those years ago. You should know that better than anyone.”

His hands slid around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Still bathed in his shadows, she let her head fall back in bliss at the feeling.

“I know you are more than capable, Gwyneth Berdara. But I am not capable of seeing you with another male’s hands on you.”

She fisted the front of his shirt. This was all too familiar. His hands, her heartbeat, the pulse she felt between her legs. Mere hours since their first conversation after ending things and she could already feel the slickness between her thighs at his touch.

Instead of feeling satisfied with the feeling, it ignited an anger in her. Who was he to cause a scene? Who was he to say he couldn’t bear to see her with other males?

She shoved him off her, glad when he stumbled a few steps. The general patrons of the dance floor might not have noticed their skirmish, but Gwyn hated how the eyes of everyone she knew had landed on them.

Behind the band, she noticed an exit door. Stiffening in resolve, she grabbed Azriel by one of the loops of his belt and hauled him with her until they were in an alley behind the restaurant. She slammed the door behind them, glad that they were outside instead of in some supply closet.

The wind was intense in the tunnel, its coldness tearing through her and making her hair whip around her face. It barely concealed her fury.

“You can’t do that,” she spat at him.

“Do what?” he raised his hands in surrender.

“Today was the first time we’ve spoken in over a month because I told you that I had feelings for you. Which you don’t return, and that’s fine, and I never expected that, never dreamed that I would have your affections, but fucking hell Azriel do you know what it does to me, to my body, when you talk to me like that?”

His gaze darkened, and she saw his tongue flick over his bottom lip. “What does it do, Gwyn?”

“You know what it does,” she bit out, her hands shaking. She turned her back to him, facing the wall of a multi-storey building. She hoped its occupants wouldn’t hear their row.

The sudden warmness of his body alerted her to his presence. “I am your friend, Gwyn.”

“Apparently.”

“Gwyn.” He ran a single finger down her back, and the small touch had no right feeling as good as it did. “You’re my best friend.”

“As I’ve heard.”

“I would do anything for you.” His hands were on her waist, and then her back was to his chest. His lips pressed against her neck, the sudden touch making her gasp. “Anything.”

***

Her body had been on his all night. The way she so casually draped herself across him had him near feral with his desire for her. For decorum’s sake, he’d kept it together. Mostly. It was hard to hide his raging desire when a certain part of him wouldn’t behave. When he’d excused himself to discreetly deal with the erection that just wouldn’t budge – and by deal, he meant quickly stroke himself to completion so he could feel an ounce of relief – he never expected to come out of the bathroom and see that.

Gwyn. A male. His hands touching her precious skin.

Azriel did not like losing control. But seeing her like that? It was his worst fears come to fruition. She wasn’t getting it from him, so she was turning to someone else, and it made jealously rip through him.

“Anything,” he rasped. “Any way you want. Anywhere you want.” He pressed another kiss to her neck, letting his teeth lightly graze her skin. It had the intended effect, a small moan escaping her. Yes, his Gwyn liked to bite.

“Cauldron, you are so insufferable.” She turned and grabbed him by his shirt, spinning him and slamming his back into the wall behind them. He opened his mouth to apologise, but was silenced when she pressed her lips to his.

He wasted no time in reciprocating, a deep moan escaping him as her tongue dipped into his mouth. She pressed herself into him, her hands wrapping around his neck, reverently kissing him.

His hands slid down her back, grasping the ass he’d dreamt about endlessly over the past month when he’d desperately pleasured himself to the thought of her. He hitched one of her legs up, angling her so that he could press his length into her. It elicited a moan from her, and she gently grinded her hips forward to rub her core against him. All her weight rested on him, and he wanted her closer: now.

He picked her up by the back of her thighs, wrapping her legs around him. He spun them so he could press her into the wall, her body held up by the pressure of him. He did not break the kiss once, just hitched her higher so that they were eye to eye.

She whispered his name like a strangled prayer, and it made him break away to start kissing down her neck, focusing on the spots he knew were extra sensitive.

“Az, Az, please, I need more.”

He moved his hips against hers. The only thing stopping his dick from rubbing against her clit was the clothes between them, and he knew this was one of her favourite ways to get off. Before, when they still only touched themselves, she would sometimes just gyrate against him until she came, loving the friction and time it took for her orgasm to climb. He lived for the moments when she would bite her lip and eyes would glaze over.

“What do you want?”

The glaze was starting in her eyes now, and Azriel knew it wouldn’t take much to make her come. He wondered how much she had since they’d ended, if her hand had dipped between her thighs at the thought of him or one of her filthy books.

She peered around the alley, making sure there was no one to see them. Azriel was confident they wouldn’t be caught, his shadows would alert him to anyone coming too close, but he thought that maybe she liked the risk of getting caught. Afterall, she had once jerked him off in the middle of a bar.

“How much can we do without getting caught?” she asked.

Azriel grinned. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

He walked them a few paces to the right where there was a windowsill at his shoulder height. With no effort at all, he lifted her up until she was seated on its edge. Her hands moved from his body to brace herself against the sill, and her chest heaved as she looked down at him.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“I didn’t get dessert after dinner, and I’m craving something sweet.”

He lifted her dress up, ducking under it. Encased by its warmth, he pressed a mouth to her inner thigh to encourage her to spread her legs. She eagerly did, and he wasted no time in pushing aside her panties and swiping his tongue up her centre.

He wished he could have seen her as he flicked his tongue in the places he knew she loved. He could picture her though, arms on the side of the window frame and head moving back and forward as she arched her neck back in pleasure while also wanting to watch him please her. She put her feet on his shoulders and spread her knees, and he growled at the access it gave him.

“I hope no one’s home,” he teased her.

“Let them watch. Let them see what you do to me,” she groaned.

Azriel was right, she was already on the precipice before he’d even touched her, and he had her coming twice before peppering kisses to her thighs and letting her down from the ledge. She wrapped herself up in him immediately, their kisses hot and wet as she undoubtedly tasted herself on him.

“Azriel,” she said, her voice low and full of promise.

He hummed against her, moving his lips back to her neck.

“Azriel,” she said again, his hands moving back to her ass.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me. Right now.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Huh?” He stopped kissing her, brushing the hair off her forehead as he looked her in the eyes.

She lowered them, a mischievous grin on her face. “You heard me,” she whispered. “Fuck me. Here. I’m sick of not knowing how you’d feel inside me.”

He seriously considered it. Just fucking her against the wall and releasing into her, his name nothing but a scream on her lips. Even in an alley he could make her feel good, make it worth her while.

“No,” he said without hesitation. “The first time I fuck you is not going to be in some random street.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, her kiss-swollen lips parting at his words. “First time? Does that mean you want there to be a second time?”

Yes, fuck yes more than anything, now, again, and forever I want to be with you, he thought, but he didn’t say the words aloud. Because his conundrum from before was still an issue. If he let himself have her, it would only lead to their fiery demise when she realises how being with him like that would be to sully herself.

A small part of him thought that she was able to make these decisions for herself, and if he’s what she wanted he should oblige her, but he quashed the irrational thought.

And just like before, his silence, his hesitancy, was all the answer she needed.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her face falling. She shoved herself away from him, covering her face with her hands. The pain that shook her was unabashed and powerful, and he wanted to beg for her forgiveness – for the pain he was causing her now, and the pain he’d surely cause her in the future.

Her shoulders quaked with the force of the sob that wracked her, but any subsequent cries she swallowed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Az,” she shuddered. “Fuck, why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Gwyneth…”

“Don’t. Just… don’t, Azriel.”

She walked away from him, taking the door back inside and never once looking back.

***

That night, she woke up with a scream, the nightmares that had been haunting her for weeks now in full force. She grabbed a robe and ran, wishing she could go to Azriel, but going somewhere else instead.

***

Azriel tried to be present for his mother over the coming days, but his thoughts were clouded with Gwyn. She didn’t come to training. She didn’t leave the library. He knew she was alive and safe, his shadows informed him of her happenings constantly, and his mother would often leave his side to visit her. She was quite taken with Gwyn, liking her the way Azriel had dreamed she would.

Nesta and Cassian had tried to speak with him, Nesta especially seemed worried, but he brushed them off. If Gwyn hadn’t told them, he would respect her wish for privacy.

He distracted himself as best as he could. He took his mother to his favourite places throughout Velaris, and even some of the small towns throughout the Night Court that he had always found charming. They were sometimes joined by others, but mostly his family let him have his mother to himself. They somehow talked nearly every minute without ever actually talking about anything, and anytime his mother tried to bring up Gwyn, he promptly changed the subject.

She particularly liked a small beach down that only had a population of just under a thousand, and Azriel thought maybe if she didn’t want Velaris, he could find her a place like this. Out in the countryside, the fae were far more diverse, not held to the strict no-one-in-no-one-out policy that Velaris had been under for hundreds of years. It meant you would see all types of folk, like the nymphs that Gwyn hailed from, instead of just stuffy high-fae.

Then it was her last day, and despite knowing better, he asked her what he knew she’d say no to.

“Would you like to stay? No one is living in the townhouse anymore, and I know Rhys would be thrilled if you were there. You would be so close to us, and you could go to more of the sessions in Feyre’s studio, I know how much you’ve enjoyed them. You can steal Nyx whenever you want to, and Cassian will probably have babies soon, and just imagine how rambunctious they would be.”

She just shook her head, pulling him into a loving embrace.

Rhys had asked to be the one to take her back to Illyria, and Azriel was fine with that arrangement. Rhys knew Azriel didn’t like returning to Illyria. It was worse when it was because of his mother. When he left, he felt like he was abandoning her, and it brought up things from his childhood that he’d rather not remember.

Azriel met them at Rhys and Feyre’s mansion at dusk, and Rhys flew away with her soon after. He could have winnowed, but Azriel’s mother liked the feeling of flying too much.  

Azriel spread his wings to leave too, but he was stopped by Feyre’s hand tugging on his arm. “Want to come inside?” she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Azriel remembered his resolve to speak to Feyre and Rhys about making Gwyn uncomfortable. Perhaps this was a good time, then he didn’t have to speak to Rhys, but all the information would be conveyed to him anyway.

Azriel nodded, and followed Feyre inside, a freshly toddling Nyx walking – or more accurately stumbling – in front of them.

“He’ll be flying in no time,” Azriel chuckled lightly, enjoying watching his nephew plod around.

“Don’t remind me, he’s hard to keep up with as it is,” Feyre laughed, guiding Nyx into one of the many lounge rooms. Once he was happy playing with some toys, gurgling away in words Azriel couldn’t understand but always responded to with the appropriate coos.

“Take a seat, I’ll get us some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary, I won’t be here for long.”

Her face fell ever so slightly. “You won’t be?”

“No, I just want to talk.” He paced around the room. “I would like it if you and Rhys had more subtlety in your feelings for Gwyn. She knows you don’t like her, and it’s making her uncomfortable. It’s not fair that just because we-” he broke himself off, shaking his head to try and regain his thoughts. “It’s not fair that she’s made to feel like that in her own space, with the only family she has.”

“Did she say that?” Feyre asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“No, she didn’t need to. I can tell.”

“Azriel, I do like Gwyn. We both do. I think she’s great.”

Azriel raised a brow at her, his expression asking the question for him.

“I’m being serious, Az. I know there was a time when Rhys suspected her of some things, but we were just being careful.”

“But I told you she wasn’t a threat. If you trust my judgement so little, then what is the point of me being here? What’s my purpose in this family?”

“We do trust you, and your purpose has nothing to do with your spy work. You’re a part of this family because we love you, not because you’re useful to have around.”

He knew her words were earnest, and he didn’t doubt the love between them all. But there was no denying that Azriel was starting to lose his place here. Everyone was always so fucking happy with their families and mates and lovers, and the only time he’d felt like that was with Gwyn. But he didn’t deserve her, and if he hadn’t already ruined what was between them he certainly had now.

Feyre was clutching her hands in front of her heart, waiting for Azriel to reply. He clenched his jaw, approaching the door.

“I hope you’ll take my words into consideration. Goodbye, Feyre.”

***

Gwyn was content with the quietness, glad to be alone for once. The library was silent in the late hours, the rare acolyte still wandering around but most sane enough to have retired to their quarters.  

Gwyn just wanted to shut her brain off. She didn’t want to think about her growing feelings for Azriel, or how she yearned to be at his side, in his bed, to taste the lips they had chastely touched together. She couldn’t think of this thing because if she did she would think of what came next. Either she foolishly declared her love for him or she walked away before the realisation that this wasn’t real hit her again.

“Gwyn?”

She jumped at the sound of her name and turned in her chair to see Azriel’s mother looking at her.

“I thought you’d gone home,” she said in greeting.

“I wanted to talk to you one last time and convinced Rhys to bring me here. Although I suspect we’ll see each other many times over the coming years.” She pulled a chair to sit next to Gwyn, placing her hands over Gwyn’s as she sat.

“I want to tell you a story,” she said once settled. “I don’t usually interfere with affairs that aren’t my own, but there’s things you should know before I go.”

Gwyn nodded, listening intently.

“I have always loved my son to the best of my ability. He is my heart, the reason I live, but he has always doubted if he was someone that could be loved, let alone a male that deserved it. The way he was treated as a child, bound and tortured, broke the part of him that accepts the love he deserves. It didn’t matter how much Rhys and Cassian adored him, or how much Rhys’ mother thought of him as her own, so many things had happened to him that he was never able to see through it.” She paused, her face hard as she recalled the memories. “It was not until Rhys was appointed High Lord and he took me from where I was that I had any contact with my son after letting him go. I didn’t know how to read or write yet, and I had accepted my fate in his Lord father’s household. But that – that’s irrelevant. My Azriel will fight till his death for the ones he loves, but he will never fight for himself. Gwyn, you must persevere with him. The way he is with you? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen him so open, and unguarded, and,” she took a deep breathe, her lips barely moving up in a smile, “happy. And that’s all I want for him.”

What she was saying made sense. Azriel was the most loving person she’d ever met, as infuriating as he sometimes was, but she could see the ways in which he rejected that love for himself. She saw it whenever Cassian kissed Nesta, and Azriel got distant. She saw it when he looked longingly as Nyx and Feyre, as if he wanted those things for his own but didn’t think he could ever have them.

And by the Cauldron she loved him.

This selfless, loving, enraging man was the one she loved most in this world. There was just one problem. It wasn’t the lack of his self-esteem keeping him from her. It was that he did not love her back.

Gwyn covered her face with her hands, pushing her palms in to her eyes to stop her own tears. “I will never be enough for him.” Her voice cracked.

“Why?” Azriel’s mother pleaded.

“Because I am broken.” Gwyn became overcome with the emotion she’d tried to hideaway. The past two months, her heart breaking every time she thought of Azriel, the constant dreams of Catrin. “I am an awful person, and I do not deserve him. I am callous. I don’t think things through. My sister was the better of us and after she died I replaced her with Nesta and Emerie like she meant nothing.” Gwyn clutched a hand to her chest, a searing pain slashing through her. “My sister is dead. And I lived, and every day I have done things that would let her down.”

“Your sister may have departed us, but her soul, her love for you is alive. You will feel her in the wind, smell her in the flowers during spring.” She touched Gwyn’s temple. “She is alive in here.”

Gwyn furiously wiped at her tears, hating that she was so emotional in front of someone she’d only known a handful of days.

“Why do you hide your tears from me?” she asked.

“Because all I do is cry; I hate it. I need to be stronger.”

“Oh, young one, crying is not a weakness. You are in pain, and that pain deserves to be acknowledged.”

Gwyn let her tears fall, accepting the embrace of Azriel’s mother like she was her own.

The talk they had after that was one Gwyn needed to hear – from a female who’s past was so like her own. Gwyn was whole. Gwyn was capable of great things, and if those things took time, then so be it. The shame Gwyn had felt veiled in since the attack on Sangravah lifted ever so slightly, and the ache in her heart eased enough that she could breathe normally again.

Gwyn had been letting things in her fester until the ache consumed her, whether it be in how she perceived herself or the night-terrors that had her in a steel grip. She needed this talk, a person to prompt her to confront of her past. If she wanted to heal, she needed to acknowledge that she needed to. Starting now, Gwyn would try. And starting soon, maybe Azriel could see that. See her for who she was, and love her for who she was, cracks and breaks and all.

***

“Gwyn asked me a question today. I don’t know the answer, but you might.” Mor was sitting with him while she waited for Emerie to bathe after training. It was the first time they’d been alone together in a while, and Azriel was pleasantly surprised at how companionable it was. They’d never had the talk about his feelings, by the Cauldron he did not want to, and his feelings for her had long since faded.

“Is she okay?” Azriel focused on Mor, abandoning the knitting needles his mother had given him. She’d thought the hobby would be good for him, and he was attempting to make a beanie for Nyx. So far, he’d managed to make some tangled yarn.

“She’s fine. She asked me if I knew where her sister was buried.”

He startled. “Why was she asking?”

“I have no idea. Do you know? I told her I’d look into it.”

After the temple had been raided and they’d taken note of the dead, they’d mostly left burial decisions to the villagers. As far as Azriel knew, most had been buried in the graveyard next to the destroyed temple, with the hope that they would one day re-build what was lost. However, Gwyn had mentioned her mother being buried near the coast after her passing, so perhaps Catrin had been laid to rest there.

Whatever the answer, Azriel would find out. He told Mor as much, and she thanked him. They waited together in silence, the beanie back in his hands and as shitty as ever, when Rhys decided to invade their personal space.

Azriel took that as his cue to leave. The House of Wind wasn’t big enough to fit Rhysand’s ego and Azriel’s bad mood at the same time.

Rhys had tried to summon him eight times in the fortnight since he’d spoken to Feyre, and he’d ignored him. If it was important, he could haul his ass up to the House of Wind or get Cassian.  

“Hey Rhys,” Mor said, her eyes following Azriel as he got up from his seat.

“C’mon, Az. Stay, I need to talk to you.”

Azriel recognised the familiar look on Rhys and Mor’s faces that said they were talking amongst their minds, and with a prompt goodbye and a kiss to both their cheeks, Mor scrambled off to find Emerie.

Great. The three of them had plans in the city and now he’d have to wait for them to stop railing each other before they could go.

Azriel pinched his nose, not excited for the onslaught that was to come.

“How have you been?” Rhys asked, the question unexpected.

“Fine,” Azriel answered curtly.

“I know you’re lying.”

“Using your daemati abilities on me without asking, that’s new.”

“No, I’ve just known you the entirety of our lives, and I worry about you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t help it. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Maybe I just haven’t been the same around you, High Lord.”

Rhys’ eyes shone, with anger or sadness Azriel didn’t know. What he did know was that the last thing he wanted to do was have a heart to heart chat.

“You think I don’t know what’s been going on? Cassian is worried out of his fucking mind. Nesta, bloody Nestacame to me because she didn’t know how to help you.”

“Leave it be, Rhys.”

“No. I won’t. Because you’re my brother and I can’t stand to see you like this.”

Azriel turned his back to Rhys counted to ten in his head, trying to calm his thoughts. When he had composed himself to talk to Rhys without shouting, he turned to his brother. “When Feyre came to the Night Court, you ordered us to not talk to her about the awful shit she was going through, saying she needed to heal on her own. We left Nesta alone for months and months while she tried to deal with her crap, because you and Feyre said she needed time. Can I not have that same allowance? A few weeks to figure my shit out?”

“Sort out what exactly? Whatever happened between you and Gwyn?”

“Don’t say her name.”

“I’ll say whatever I damn want if it means you confront whatever demons you’re battling. Just admit you love her and go get your girl, Az. I don’t understand why you aren’t together when you both are so obviously obsessed with each other. You were fucking happy, Az. The happiest I’ve ever seen you. And I wish I had known it was because of her. I wouldn’t have said, or even thought, half the stuff I did if I had known.”

Azriel flashed back to the night Gwyn had braved the stairs and walked through the city to get to him. To embracing her in the street with not a care in the world. To the look on Rhys’ faced that spoke of nothing but disapproval. In that moment, Rhys had confirmed everything Azriel had ever thought about himself.

Even though Rhys suspected Gwyn of treason, he still did not think Azriel was good enough for her.

Azriel was hit with the exhaustion he’d been fighting off for days – weeks – months – and collapsed back into his chair. He was too tired for this conversation. Then again, he couldn’t picture a day where he was well rested enough to deal with this.

“The reason I’m not with Gwyn isn’t because I don’t want to be,” Azriel said slowly.

“I didn’t investigate Gwyn because I truly thought she was working against us. You were right. I had dropped it until I saw you together.”

Azriel leant his head back, staring at the white ceiling. “Why?”

“If you loved her, I had to be sure she wouldn’t do something to jeopardise you. Watching you get your heart broken again was not something I could do. So, I was selfish. I wanted to make sure she was who you thought she was.”

Azriel’s eyes burned. “I don’t understand. I saw how much you disapproved.”

“I wasn’t against the idea of you. I was confused. I didn’t understand when it all happened between you, and I still don’t, and I didn’t understand why you didn’t just tell me that everything I was suspicious of was just because you two were seeing each other. When did we start keeping secrets like that?”

Azriel didn’t want to acknowledge the words. Half of his reasoning behind his decision to leave her be was because he had wholeheartedly believed that not even his own family thought he was good enough for her.

This only proved how broken he was.

“I don’t fit here anymore,” he told Rhys, finally looking him in the eye.

His brother’s face was as open as a book – pain, remorse. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve all made a real family. Irrevocably connected to one another. You have Feyre, and Nyx, and Cassian has Nesta. Mor has Emerie. I can’t see myself here anymore. I’m always on the outside. I can’t relate to you. If I wasn’t here, would anything really change? Am I even needed anymore?”

And as Azriel said the words, he knew the truth behind them. The tipping point may have been Gwyn, but his despair had been growing long before that, its only reprieve the moments he was at her side.

Rhys stormed across the room, grabbing Azriel by the arm and hauling him up.

Rhys did something Azriel hadn’t expected.

Rhys hugged him – the kind of hug you’d give after winning a battle, the kind of hug you’d give after being separated for years, the kind of hug you only give to those dearest to you. The exact kind of hug Rhys had given him after the war five hundred years ago when they’d been kept apart by Rhys’ father, never knowing if the other was truly okay and praying to the Mother that they were all alive. Azriel wrapped his arms around his brother in return, the two Illyrian males holding onto each other for dear life.

“You’re my brother, how could you ever think that I could live without you?”

Azriel felt Rhys’ tears on his shoulder, summoning some of his own.

“There may be no blood between us, brother, but I choose you as my family, and I will always choose you. You are worthy. You are deserving. And I love you.”

Azriel wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for Mor and Emerie to sneak out. Long enough for the House to light up as the sun set. Long enough for Cassian to find them and shove them apart so he could join in.

Three brothers in every way that mattered, Azriel had just let himself forget.

***

Gwyn had a package. Never, ever, had she received a package before. In Sangravah, if anyone wanted to tell her something they’d just come find her, there was no need to send it in the mail.

Nesta had brought it to her, saying it had been sent to the House. They were both trepidus at first, until they realised the sender had been Azriel’s mother. Gwyn took it to her room to open it in private. There was a loose letter atop a bunch of tightly packed envelopes, and Gwyn opened it to scan what Azriel’s mother had said.

Gwyn,

I wanted to show you these, so there was no doubt in your mind of the sincerity of the words I told you before I left.

Please, be gentle with Azriel’s heart. He hasn’t written me since I left, and I don’t think he’s sleeping.

All my love.

The envelopes below were dated from around the time Nesta and Gwyn became friends to just before Gwyn and Azriel had ended things, and Gwyn opened the first to see that Azriel’s mother had highlighted certain sections for her to read. She scanned her eyes over them, barely taking them in before frantically opening the next letters to see if they were the same.

Azriel’s mother had noted every section of his letters that spoke about Gwyn. Gwyn wondered if reading his words was a violation of his privacy, and if she should thank his mother for her generosity, but send them back without reading them.

And then Gwyn remembered how nosey she was, and that Az’s mother wanted her to read this, and went back to the beginning.

It started simple, Az talking about how someone had finally joined Nesta in her training, a girl Azriel knew from the war against Hybern. Knew of, he’d corrected himself, it wasn’t fair to say you knew someone just because you’d been there on the worst day of their life.

When she’d cut the ribbon, and how proud he was. When he found her training on solstice and how he’d given her the necklace meant for someone else. The memory made Gwyn laugh just thinking about it. Oh Az, he was a great gift giver but he’d really bungled that one. He went into their private training sessions, when she started having nightly dinners with him, Cassian and Nesta, and the absolute crushing fear he’d felt when they discovered she’d been taken for the Bloodrite. He talked about how she’d won, and how he was floored by her, and the words made Gwyn’s heart flood with love.

There was so much. With every letter, she became a more prominent character in the tales he would regale for his mother. It was no wonder she had so eagerly wanted to meet Gwyn, Gwyn was at the centre of everything Azriel had said before they’d even started their arrangement. And then the dates from after they’d gotten together could have been written by another male. His happiness exuded through the pages, no hint of the darkness that was synonymous with Azriel.

It read like a romance novel, and if Gwyn hadn’t been the one living this mess, she would have thought there was no other way Azriel could possibly feel about her.

Which either made her incredibly dense, or there was something going on that she didn’t understand.

Ruminating on the thoughts, she repacked the letters and quickly hid them in her room so that none of the other acolytes accidentally stumbled upon them. She then wondered if she could get away with taking a few hours away from the library. She did work through the morning, and she was miles ahead of where she would’ve been if she’d been going to training, so she decided to risk it and run to the House of Wind. If she missed anything important, she’d just work through the night again.

Sneaking into the House was easy, she did it all the time. She crept along the hallway and heard the light voices of Mor and Azriel in one of the many common rooms. Avoiding that route, she would talk to Az, just not yet, she took a roundabout way until she was in the House’s library.

Nesta could often be found here in the late afternoon, and Gwyn was praying that since she hadn’t seen Nesta working today, she was doing something here. The room was empty, and with a grunt of frustration Gwyn went to Nesta’s bedroom, hoping maybe she’d be there.

She was relieved to find not only Nesta, but also Emerie. Nesta was sitting with her back to the bathroom door, a forgotten book open in her lap, Emerie’s voice echoing through with the sound of splashing punctuating her words.

“Hello!” Gwyn greeted, her voice awkwardly loud.

Nesta grinned as she looked up at Gwyn, and Emerie yelled a greeting in return, the sound of water thrashing loudly. Emerie appeared in an instant, a fluffy red towel wrapped around her.

“I was just about to come find you. I’m heading into the city soon with Mor, but I wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner with us tonight. We could bring anything you want back from Velaris and come to you in the library, if you’d like.”

Gwyn walked to Emerie, wrapping her arms around her wet friend. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be occupied.”

Emerie hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pretending to glare at Nesta. “Gwyn would have sat with me in the bathroom,” she joked.

“I was attempting to preserve propriety,” Nesta said.

“You’ve guarded me on the side of a mountain while I’ve taken a shit. I really don’t care if you see me naked.”

Gwyn laughed, squeezing Emerie once more before letting her go. “How was training this morning?”

“It went well, but we miss having you there.” Emerie patted her cheek before walking back into the bathroom.

Nesta got to her feet, ushering Gwyn further into the room. “It’s been weird without you, I don’t like it. Will you come back soon?”

Gwyn nodded, then voiced herself when she remembered Emerie wouldn’t be able to hear her. “I think so. I actually came to talk to you about that, if you have the time.”

“Of course we have the time,” Emerie called. “But first…”

She walked out of the room, stark naked holding up two sets of lingerie on hangers. Nesta sighed, and Gwyn snickered.

“Which one do you think Mor would enjoy more? She likes me in red, but the white looks nice with my skin tone. It’s also crotchless.”

“You two have gotten too comfortable in my home.” Despite her words, Nesta looked thoughtfully over the outfits. “I like the white.”

“Me too,” Gwyn added.

Emerie hummed in agreement, going back into the bathroom and not returning until she was fully dressed in a nice off the shoulder shirt and pants.

“It’s no surprise Morrigan was jealous of us when you first started dating. At that point we’d likely seen you naked more than she had.” Gwyn sat on the end of Nesta’s bed.

“Ah yes, but I can assure you what we do when she sees me naked is very different.”

“For your sake, I would hope so. If I had all that naked Cassian and none of the benefits, I would still be a very bitter woman.”

They all laughed together, Emerie sitting in front of Nesta’s full length mirror to do her hair. Gwyn thought it was quite sweet to see Emerie dress up for Mor, it was a side of Emerie she’d never seen before.

“Onto more pressing issues, what plans do you have today, Gwyn?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn opened her mouth to ask them the question she’d come armed with, but she was interrupted by the cheery voice of Mor as she flounced into the room.

She waved at Gwyn and Nesta before plopping herself behind Emerie and wrapping her arms around her waist. She kissed the back of her neck, whispering something in Emerie’s ear that made her nod.

Gwyn didn’t want to interrupt them, so she stayed quiet, her hands in her lap as she looked at them. She felt jealous at their ease – how easy it seemed for them to be together.

“I’ll meet you in the library when you’re done getting ready,” Mor said loudly enough for them all to hear. As quickly as she came in, she left in a flurry. Emerie seemed unfazed – perhaps this was how Mor always was.  

“Gwyn, you were saying?” Emerie asked, making eye contact with her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I have two sentences for you both. And I want your opinion on what resonates more.”

Emerie turned to fully face her, abandoning her hair. Nesta came to her side, putting her hands over Gwyn’s and interlocking their fingers.

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” Gwyn gave them both the side-eye.

Emerie came to her other side, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’re just – we’ve been – it’s just hard to see you sad all the time. We were hoping you would come talk to us about it, but we wanted to give you space.”

“We didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk,” Nesta added. “Sometimes that makes things harder.”

“Oh,” Gwyn exhaled. She pressed a hearty kiss to both their cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You’re hurting,” Emerie said.

“And we want to be here for you,” Nesta finished.

“Then, you can help me with my conundrum.” Gwyn jumped to her feet and turned to them, clapping her hands together, ready to present.

Emerie and Nesta leant forward, listening intently.

“Sentence one, Azriel and I aren’t together because he doesn’t love me. Two, Azriel and I aren’t together because he thinks he doesn’t deserve my love. I know what I’m starting to think, but what about you.”

Nesta and Emerie shared a look, and then said synchronously, “Number two.”  

“And why do we think that?” Gwyn asked.

“Because he’s obviously heartbroken, and the way he reacted when he saw you dancing with Elvin wasn’t the reaction of a male who only feels friendship.”

“Thank you, Emerie. Nesta?”

“I concur. I want you both to be happy, and I think you would be together. Normally, I wouldn’t like the idea of my sister’s happiness being contingent on the feelings of another, but, and correct me if I’m wrong, this sadness wouldn’t be a problem if you and Azriel were together.”

“I think he loves me, at least a little bit,” Gwyn confessed. “I didn’t for a long time, but there’s been some things,” Azriel’s letters in which he said everything about her except the word love, “that have come to light, and I want to try and make this work. And I have a plan.”

***

Gwyn was in his room.

Azriel had roamed the skies for hours after his conversation with Rhys. Rhys had gone into explicit detail with him and Cassian about the investigation of Gwyn – how and why he did it. How: a female he’d hired from a trustworthy guild who had consented to Rhys erasing her memories of all that she found in the library as soon as she was done. Why: because he needed to know what Azriel wasn’t falling for a woman who would betray him.

There was a lot of loose ends to tie up. Rhys admitted he regretted the way he went about it, but that he thought the end result was worth it. He had no doubt in his mind that Gwyn deserved the praise of Azriel and Nesta, and even more.

It did leave Azriel with a bigger task than he’d wanted, making sure Gwyn never found out about any of this. While flying, he replayed everything he had to do to ensure that Gwyn would remain feeling safe in that library. He’d had to contact dozens of the acolytes, none of whom should ever have been forced to speak to someone in the first place, let alone follow up with him. He’d made excuses upon excuses as to why a female fae Rhys had hired came in the library and asked so many questions, and he wanted to kick his brother’s ass when he realised many of them were wary of the newcomer. Clotho especially wrote her displeasure, although she agreed with Rhys in saying it needed to be done. She couldn’t take any chances after Hybern attacked the library all those years ago. Azriel placated her fears, reminding her of her adoration for Gwyn, and then he left, finally ready to collapse into bed. Clotho conceded that she wasn’t worried about a threat like Rhys, more concerned of a threat to Gwyn. She’d looked at him then in her all-knowing way, and Azriel suspected her calmed fears had nothing to do with Rhys deigning Gwyn innocent.

And then there she was. In his room. On his bed. Sleeping. She was in her uniform atop the blanket, but her head rested on his pillow as she slept on her side.

His bed still held the faint smell of Gwyn. Azriel buried himself in it every night just to feel like he was close to her. But over time, it was fading, and Azriel didn’t know what he was going to do with himself once it was completely gone.

The sound of his door closing was enough to wake her. She sat up with a groggy look on her face, a little bit of drool on her chin. She rubbed at her eyes with one of her hands, the other supporting her body.

He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to move to fast after she just woke up lest he scare her. “Gwyneth, is everything okay?”

He knelt next to her on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Gwyn.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He could feel his pulse start to rise, and he thought of every possible scenario as she shook herself out of a dreamy daze. Was she hurt? Scared? Had something happened and she needed his help? He didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions, but his body was tense with anticipation.

“Gwyn.” His voice was harder, more serious. “What are you doing here?”

Her face fell at his words, and she looked away from him. “I was waiting for you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” She pushed herself off the bed and paced to the other side of his room. He remained on the floor, realising how his tone must have come across.

Five seconds into their first conversation in weeks and he’d already made her believe he didn’t want her to be there.

She fiddled with her fingers, her classic sign of nervousness, and refused to look him in the eye.

“You’re welcome anytime, Gwyn, I just need to know that you’re okay-”

“I got a letter from your mother today.”

“I’m not surprised,” he chuckled. “She likes you.”

“She’s worried about you. She said she doesn’t think you’re sleeping, and that you haven’t written to her since she left.”

Az smiled ruefully. “I’ve never been a good sleeper.” Az knew it would be his mother to say such things, her mouth had always been too big when it came to those she loved. But the last thing Az needed was for Gwyn to spend one minute of her precious time worrying over someone like him.

“I disagree. I often observed you sleeping quite deeply.”

Azriel finally got to his feet, satisfied that Gwyn wasn’t in danger. “I believe I slept so well because I had spent so much of my energy,” he told her, not missing the blush on her cheeks as he said the words.

“Okay, well, even if you are not sleeping, are you okay?”

He didn’t know how to answer that question. He was as fine as he ever was, except that he could only see her when once he would have just seen the kitchen they cooked in together, the bathroom where they bathed together, the library where she would read her favourite dirty books to him before he inevitably went to his knees for her. He was fine except every moment of his existence was plagued with how he’d lost her, and hurt her, and how there was nothing he could do about it unless he wanted to risk eventually being overcome with his darkness.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

She knew he wasn’t, she didn’t even have to say it aloud.

“I’m… I’m not doing okay,” she confessed, the words piercing his chest.

He had been waiting for this. For her to tell him that he had ruined her, that he was the biggest mistake she had ever made and she rued the day they first kissed and everything that had become of them since.

“I’m conflicted, because I don’t regret a single second of the time I’ve had with you, but I also hate what we’ve become.” She approached him gingerly. “I miss you, Az. Every second of every day, I miss you.”

He swallowed hard, his wings shuddering at her words.

“It’s more than that though. I don’t feel secure anymore, like I’ve lost some vital part of myself. It’s not that I don’t feel safe, it’s just that I don’t feel,” she grappled with the words, “I don’t feel settled. And after speaking with Emerie and Nesta, part of me thinks that maybe you feel the same? That maybe we said we were best friends and then acted like strangers?”

She placed her hands on his chest, and he trapped them there. She scrutinised his face, the shadows beneath his eyes evident.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really.”

She glanced at the bed behind him. “Do you want me to sleep here tonight?”

He tilted his head in confusion.  

“Not – not like that.” She took her hands back and guided him to the bed. Her jaw was set as she ordered him to take his clothes off, finding him some pyjamas to change into while he did.

“Another confession I should make. I’ve been having nightmares about Catrin. Sometimes the only way I can sleep is if I have a friend with me. I should be paying Cassian reparations for the number of times I’ve come here in the middle of the night and he’s had to leave his bed so that I can sleep in it with Nesta. But sometimes you need to have that bed, Az. You need a bed, and a friend, and if you want, I can do that for you.”

He didn’t know what to say, as always cowed the generosity of the female before him. The idea of her with him, not for anything other than rest, made his chest ache with wanting. Had he not pictured her here every night since their last? Had he not banished the House from his room so that he could try and preserve every part of her that she’d left behind?

He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her right now, in his bed, in his arms, doing for him what no one else could.

Azriel nodded at Gwyn, no trusting himself to say anything aloud. If he did, he would beg her to stay: for tonight, forever.

She smiled at him and started to strip his bed. An ounce of shame entered him at how truly filthy his room was, but he didn’t really care, not when she would never judge him, not when he was just trying to preserve the essence of her.

When the sheets were clean and blankets and pillows fluffed, she grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. He undressed until he was in his underwear and slid into the blankets. Expecting her to follow him immediately after, he was surprised when she started to rifle in his closet, pulling out the largest shirt he owned.

He tried not to watch her, but with her back to him, he was enthralled by her dress falling to the ground, all but her panties following suit. His shirt fell to her mid-thigh, and the slits in the back for his wings meant with each of her movements a slice of her back could be seen.

When she finally approached him, it was like the time, his life, without her had never happened. He opened his arms and she slid into them, snaking her legs through his and drawing him to her chest. He was practically atop her when she started humming a song they had once sung in harmony.

And for the first time in too long, he slept with no ghosts haunting him.

***

Azriel slept for twelve fucking hours. No dreams. No rude awakenings. Just pure, deep sleep.

He awoke facing Gwyn, his arms around her and her face tucked into his neck. Her head was on his pillow and her legs still wrapped around his, and by the looks of it, she had slept just as peacefully as him.

He shifted his body, trying to get up without waking her, but she grumbled in her sleep and pulled him closer. He knew he needed to get up, training with the females from the library began in half an hour, but how could he possibly when she was snuggled so contently into him?

“Gwyn,” he whispered, hesitant to wake her so that he didn’t have to let her go.

She smacked her lips and continued to snuggle, one of her hands starting to rub up and down his back as if to sooth him.

“Gwyn.”

“Shhhh. Just go back to sleep,” she muttered, the words barely discernible.

“I have to go train.”

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking sleep from them. She stretched her hands above her head and arched her back, making his shirt ride up to just below her underwear. He averted his gaze, trying to stay focused on her face.

“How long do you have?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Okay, that’s enough time.” She sat up, smiling down at him. She smelt like she always did – like summer’s rain and freshly printed books.

“Enough time for what?” He tried not to look too reverent as he observed her, but he knew he was failing. With her hair lying in whisps around her face and her teal eyes brighter than a syphon, it was impossible to not want to bow before her.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve seen Nesta and Emerie naked.”

“I – what?”

“I have. Lots of times. And I’m sure you’ve seen Cassian and Rhys naked. Nesta said at solstice you even all sit in a sauna in nothing but your skin for hours.”

“Yes, that’s true...”

“Here’s the thing, Azriel.” She pushed him onto his back, swinging a leg over his hips and straddling him. His dick was instantly alert, and he bit his lip to stop himself from growling at the way she looked atop him. “I see my friends naked. You see your friends naked. So, it only stands to reason that it’s perfectly normal for us to have seen every inch of each other’s skin, especially considering we’re best friends. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice strangled. “But I haven’t done the naked things I do with you with Cassian or Rhys.”

“Shame. That would be fun to imagine.” She laughed and hopped off him, bundling her dress up in her arms and walking towards the bathroom. “Azriel, this is to say that henceforth, there will be no awkwardness between us. No regrets. No holding back. We’re friends, and if, as friends, we slip and see each other in the nude, who cares?”

He was trying not to hyperventilate. She wasn’t mad at him anymore? There was no bitterness in her expression, just playfulness, and it reminded him so strongly of before that seeing her leaning against his bathroom door should have essentially been a flashback.

More than anything, he believed the truth in her words because he wanted to. He wanted the ease they once had to return, and he also couldn’t fault her logic.

“Friends?”

“Best friends,” he agreed.

***

Step one of the plan: friendship. An honest to the Cauldron, Mother above approved friendship.

Check.

Gwyn was confident with her Emerie and Nesta approved plan, and excited to see how her and Az might change as time went by. She didn’t care if it took weeks, months, or even years, for him to feel confident in their relationship, he needed to be more confident in himself – which is exactly the sentiment that his mother had passed on to Gwyn about herself.

She also realised that she had to do her own healing if she was going to be with him. No more thinking she was broken or unlovable. She was Gwyn, warrior extraordinaire, twin to Catrin, heart sister to Emerie and Nesta. A person not worthy of love would not have such fine people who cared for her.

There was something she needed to do to achieve her own goal.

It was a few days after she had bombarded Azriel in his room. It was at that moment that she knew, truly, that more than a lover, Az needed a friend, and that what she was doing was the right thing.

Because she was in love him.

She wouldn’t tell him, not yet, it would just make him run further away.

He was watching her make them breakfast, eyes following her every move. She was making (not very successfully) blueberry and banana pancakes.

“I can help,” he said for the fiftieth time.

Gwyn held up the pan, which definitely did not contain burnt pancakes. “No need. Now sit down and prepare for the best breakfast of your life.”

She had not stayed with him last night, but she had the two before that. She had also gone back to training. She felt silly that she had ever stopped going, especially because of problems with a male of all things, but the distance was at the very least clarifying.

She looked at Azriel and sighed. Maybe it was hard to bake because he was sitting at the island in nothing but loose pants, his chiselled chest on full display.

He did not heed her command, getting up and coming to inspect her batter. He dipped a finger in and tasted it, moaning when it met his tongue. “Let’s just eat it raw,” he suggested.

“Do you like it raw? I do.” She dipped her own finger in, sucking on her finger just a second longer than she needed to.

It had the intended effect. He blushed from his cheeks to his chest. “Have you been talking to Rhys or Feyre?” He narrowed his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, should I be?”

He shook his head. His finger lingered near the batter, but she swatted it away. “If you keep eating it there won’t be any left for the actual pancakes.”

“I don’t think we’ll get a chance to eat them anyway.”

“Well, in that case.” She smiled demurely before dumping the contents of the bowl down his chest.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

She laughed in delight as he pulled her into his chest, smearing the batter all over her.

***

“Up that road is Feyre’s studio, do you want to go?”

“Yes, and no. Maybe later? I want to see more of the city before the sun sets.”

Gwyn was holding onto his arm tightly as they ventured through Velaris. It was her first time in the city during the day, and Azriel was still in disbelief that she’d asked him to give her a tour of the city. She said she was trying to push her own boundaries, again, and that she did not want to do it alone. Of course he took the opportunity to be alone with her.

As he had the last week.

He did not know why, but things had been different since the day he’d settled things with Rhys and she had come into his room. She was with him the way she was before, before he’d hurt her, before everything tore to shreds between them. As perplexed as he was, he was not going to complain.

He led her through the streets, taking their time. Gwyn stopped at every store front, peeking in through the windows but rarely entering. It wasn’t until she stopped them in front of a familiar jewellery store that he innocuously tried to steer her away.

“Some of those pieces on display are beautiful,” she said, her nose nearly touching the window as she peered at the display. “Can we go in?”

He didn’t want to deny her, but why here? It was the source of one of his greatest embarrassments.

She must have noticed the heat on his cheeks.

“Oh no. This is where you got that necklace, isn’t it?”

He looked pained. Gwyn burst out laughing at his expression, pulling at his arm to leave the establishment.

“I would rather not relive that memory,” he told her.

“One day you’ll find it as funny as I do, and besides, it was the nicest thing I’d ever owned until, you know, it was taken back and thrown off the side of a mountain.”  

“I went to look for it you know, so that you could keep it.”

She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, and he moved his arm around her to tuck her into his side. They must have looked mighty romantic as they walked through Velaris, but he didn’t care who saw. Let the people know that Gwyn was with him, that she cared for him enough to entrust him with her safety.

“Just promise any future gifts you get me haven’t been vetoed by other females first and we’ll be fine.”

***

Gwyn sat in Feyre’s studio watching Nyx while she painted. Azriel sat in the corner looking over positively titillating trade negotiation forms – at least he was able to work near her. He hated the times over the past few weeks that he’d have to leave Velaris to fulfil whatever tasks Feyre or Rhys gave to him. Although, it did feel nice every time they were reunited. She held him extra tight when they slept, even though they had yet to touch in any other way.

Not that he wanted to – no, yes, of course he wanted to. He just didn’t want to take advantage of her because he knew she was open to the idea. He chuckled to himself over her naked analogy, and he would be lying if the image of her naked with Nesta and Emerie hadn’t accidentally popped into his head at the time.

“I used to run activities with the children at the temple.” He heard Gwyn saying to Feyre.

“Like what?”

Azriel was glad to see them talking. He may have reconciled with Rhys, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t help but worry that Gwyn would feel excluded by them.

“I helped with the choir and Catrin did dance classes for toddlers, although dancing is a generous description of what they did. It was adorable watching all those tots follow her around.”

Azriel put the documents down, narrowing in on their conversation. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that he knew everything about Gwyn, not at all, but he would bet his knowledge rivalled even Nesta’s. But this was new. Gwyn, in most of the stories she told about the temple, focused on the shenanigans of her and Catrin.

“It was nice, being around them. Children are a nice reminder of the innocence that remains, even after bad things. That was, of course, before… everything, but the sentiment still stands.”

Feyre looked over Gwyn thoughtfully, the former not noticing as Nyx brought Gwyn an abandoned brush, babbling as he showed it off to her. Gywn looked at it in wonder, and Nyx took that as a sign to plonk himself down in her lap.

“You should come to my classes,” Feyre said.

Gwyn’s mouth made a pretty little surprised ‘o.’ “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to put myself out there like that just yet. I’m happy with what I have.”

“Not the ones with the adults, those are more for drinking wine and gossiping. I think you should help me with the children.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’d gain as much from them as they would from you. These kids have been hurt, and lost things, but every day they prove how incredibly resilient they are. They remind me of you.”

Gywn looked down at Nyx. Azriel could practically see the wheels of her mind turning as she pondered Feyre’s words. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure, take all the time you need. We’ll always be here.”

Gwyn nodded, absentmindedly smoothing down Nyx’s dark hair.

The bell on the studio door dinged, but Az wasn’t worried. His shadows had warned him of Nesta’s impending arrival a while ago.

“Feyre? Gwyn?”

“Up here!” Feyre called back.

Nesta’s footsteps pounded as she came up the stairs, but she didn’t come into the room any further than a few steps.

“Gwyn, Emerie and I are going for a walk through the city, want to join us?”

Azriel was curious as to what Gwyn would say. She had yet to venture into the city, or anywhere other than the House or the library, without him at her side. And the cutting glance Nesta gave him as she asked the question informed him he was not welcome on this particular adventure.

“Okay,” Gwyn said suspiciously quickly. She got up, manoeuvring Nyx so he was standing in front of her. “Go to Az! Good boy!”

Azriel grinned as his nephew walked over to him with a slobbery smile on his face. Azriel enveloped him up, the documents he was meant to be reading long forgotten as he looked into the eyes of Nyx. Hopefully Nesta and Cassian would have a baby soon too, and then he would get to live with one. Which, if he had Gwyn, Nesta and Cassian would most certainly let him do.

Gwyn waved goodbye to them and hurried off with Nesta. Azriel wondered if Cassian had any idea what they were up to.

He sat in content silence with Feyre while Nyx made non-sensical noises. He still had his paint brush and was using it over the tattoos he could see on Azriel’s arms.

“So, are you two…” Feyre waved her hand around.

Azriel snorted, peppering a kiss to Nyx’s head. “No, we aren’t together.”

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

Feyre put down the brush she was holding. Setting her painting aside, she walked over to him in ridiculous, paint covered overalls. Even her hair had paint in it, even though she’d tied it out of the way. She sat at his feet, crossing her legs and using his legs as a backrest, not looking at him.

“Az?”

“Yes, Feyre.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

Feyre slid a hand around his calf, anchoring them together. “If you love her, you should be with her. I can’t see a single reason as to why you two are apart when you make each other so happy, and so glaringly love one another.”

Azriel burned at the words. Even if they were true, even if that’s how he felt, he didn’t feel like going into all the reasons with Feyre why being with Gwyn wasn’t the grand idea she thought it was.

Gwyn, effervescent light that she was, was not one he could taint with his darkness. What would happen if he let himself love her, fall so deeply into her in a way he never had with another, just for it to end in disaster? It would be torture for her, and it would about near kill him. It was better to not run the risk – it was better to wait, make her happy, until the right person came along. And when they did, when she found them and wanted them, he could step aside willingly to ensure that she was happy.

“Az, you shouldn’t think like that.”

His gaze snapped to her, but she hurried to defend herself.

“I didn’t want to hear you, you projected until I did.” She hurried to stand up, facing him with her hands on her hips and determination on her face. “Azriel, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly.”

Azriel sighed. “Okay.”

“Do you think Gwyn is an idiot?”

“What? No.”

“Do you think she immature?”

“No.”

“Incapable?”

“No.”

“Unable to make decisions for herself?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think she made a mistake in befriending Nesta?”

“I – why would you even ask that?”

Feyre crossed her arms. “She believed in Nesta before anyone else did, even Cassian. She saw Nesta for who she really was before I did, she gave my own sister the grace that she needed when no one else thought to.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“Azriel, do you really think so little of Gwyn that you don’t believe she can make her own choices when it comes to someone she loves? Do you think so little of her intelligence and esteem that you presume she would be with you for any other reason than she thought you were the one for her?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“No, it’s not. You say that you’ll be here for her until she finds the one she wants, but you’re it. Fuck, with every ounce of her being all she does is radiate her love for you. You want to step aside so she can be happy? You are her happiness, you buffoon. And the way you feel is the same way Rhys felt when he met me, and Nesta felt when for years she rejected what was between her and Cassian. If you truly believe in her intelligence than you have to acknowledge that if she wants you, it’s because you are just as worthy as everyone else she chooses to love. Nesta is a better for knowing Gwyn. Gwyn is the family Emerie always needed. And in a heartbeat she would give herself to you. Because you deserve all the love this world can offer you.”

“It’s not the same,” he mumbled.

“It is the same! Now say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you love her. Acknowledge it. Ruminate in it. Then do something about it.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Say it.”

“Feyre.”

“Say it!”

“No.”

“Fucking say it!” She smacked him over the head.

“Fine! I love her. I love her so fucking much it hurts, okay? I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I thought I was capable of loving.” Azriel stood, placing Nyx down next to Feyre so that he could pace the room. “I don’t know when I started loving her, but I also can’t remember a time when I didn’t. Fuck, she is everything. She is the sun, Feyre. My life starts with her dawn and ends with her setting. I can’t live without her, but I can’t risk eclipsing her.”

Feyre strode to him, grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him. “The sun is still there even during an eclipse, Azriel. Give her the choice, let yourself be happy.” Her hands were hard, but her voice was gentle.

“Repeat after me. I deserve happiness.”

Az rolled his eyes but obliged. “I deserve happiness.”

“I deserve love.”

“I deserve love.”

“I am worthy of a good life.”

“I am worthy of a good life.”

“I’m going to be with Gwyn.”

“I’m going to be with Gwyn.” He felt the air rush out of him from the words, felt them settle within him. He swallowed hard, visions of the life they could have together rushing through his mind. From the smirk on Feyre’s face, he knew he was projecting again, but he didn’t care.

Gwyn being next to him every morning. Kissing her freely. Walking the streets of Velaris together. Seeing the joy on his mother’s face when he tells her he found the one. Her moving in, permanently. A wedding. A life. Children with his wings and her hair. Happiness.

He saw it all. He felt it all.

And when she was ready, he would have it all.

***

“Gwyn?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Gwyn.”

“Yes, Az.”

“I found Catrin.”

A pause the length of three of her heartbeats.

“Will you take me to her?”

“Yes.”

***

It had been years since Gwyn had been here. Had tasted the air, felt the ever-present breeze on her face. Somehow, everything was the exact same and yet completely different from the place she had once called home.

The temple had been re-built, but it was no longer available to the public. It instead was a private residence to anyone who had decided to stay after its desolation. Gwyn could have gone in if she wanted, visited the people she’d been raised with and reconvene with those she was familiar with, but even if the building no longer held the scars of Hybern’s attack, she still did. Despite her many positive memories there, ones she would cherish until the end of her days, she felt no desire to step foot in the temple ever again.

And it did not make her weak. It did not mean she wasn’t capable of greatness.

Catrin had been buried in the temple’s graveyard in a section dedicated to those who died in the attack, and whose bodies weren’t claimed. It gave Gwyn a knot in her throat to know she wasn’t here for Catrin afterwards, to find her a place where she could rest. If it had been up to Gwyn, she would have buried Catrin with her mother, or cremated her so they could stay together.

Her eyes burned, and she had to remind herself that Catrin’s violent end would not have stopped her sister from loving Sangravah, from wanting to be here.

Her and Azriel stood alone at her headstone. It read nothing but her name, and there was no one around to disturb them. The air was crisp, colder than Gwyn thought it would be this time of year, and already weeds and dandelions had spread throughout the area. There was no one to maintain the space anymore, and it showed.

“Do you want me to stay?” Azriel asked her, his warm hand holding hers.

“No,” she whispered. “I just want a moment alone with my sister.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her hand one last squeeze before stepping away. Gwyn knew he wouldn’t go far.

When he was no longer in sight, she sat down in front of Catrin’s headstone. She ran her fingers down the rough, grey stone, and chuckled when she realised how much Catrin would have despised how basic it was.

Could you not have found me something more opulent, Gwynie? As extravagant as I? she would have said.

“I’ll get you something better, don’t you worry.” Gwyn closed rested her forehead on the grass, imagining Catrin was next to her. When she opened her eyes, she could see her sister there, the familiar smile, the bright eyes, even her webbed hands, sitting across from her where the headstone would be.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit.”

Catrin remained silent.

“I miss you, so much. I – I wish you were here. I don’t think things would be so hard if you were here.”

Catrin blinked, a small smile on her face.

“Do you remember how much we wanted to travel when we were younger? You made those maps for us of all the routes we’d take, all the places we’d visit together. I don’t have those maps anymore, but sometimes, at night, I’ll try and recreate them. But I can’t remember the details.”

Gwyn released a shuddering breath. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to say them.

“I try my best to remember you how you were. I feel so guilty when the only image I can conjure of you-” head separate from her body, a pool of blood larger than any she’d ever seen, Catrin’s lifeless eyes and fearful expression forever imprinted on her face, “-is the one from the end. I didn’t think we’d ever have an end. I thought it would be us, forever, from the moment we were born until we left, together.”

Gwyn saw their life like she was watching strangers perform it – two girls running around the temple, their mother never able to slow them down. The way they clung to each other like twins always do. The dancing, Catrin’s awful singing, the first time Catrin came home with a crush, Gwyn’s first kiss, the secrets they confided with just one another and the memories that were irreplaceable had all happened within eyesight of Catrin’s final resting place. She told Catrin these stories, wanting her sister to know that she hadn’t forgotten, that she would never forget, the life they’d had together. Entwined since conception – this was the only thing that could have separated them.

Gwyn stared at Catrin, the tears pooling in her eyes threatening to spill over. She didn’t want to contain them. She deserved to grieve all that she had lost, it didn’t make her any lesser.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone,” she sobbed, clutching a hand to her heart. “I’m sorry that you’ve been here so long. I wish you could be with me, you’d love what we’d have. A house in the sky and a whole family that we chose for ourselves. We’d be free, Catrin. You would have loved it.”

The tears flowed freely as she told Catrin of all her life had become. Of Nesta and Emerie, of the Valkyrie, how she found the male she’d spend the rest of her life with. She told her sister everything that had happened to her from the moment she’d died until now, as though they were just catching up.

Gwyn was immortal, and she had to come to terms with the fact that she’d live the vast majority of her live without her twin at her side. And with that, Gwyn knew she couldn’t waste a second with those she loved. No more hiding from the city. No more turning down invitations from Emerie or Nesta. No more waiting idly by when Azriel was right there, just standing there existing while she loved him. Gwyn would live her life to the absolute fullest in honour of Catrin, and she would have no regrets in doing so.

She closed her eyes again, uttering her final words of the day and the ones she knew would hurt the most. “I love you, Catrin. I miss you more every day. I’ll never stop thinking about you, about what I life would have been like.  But I have to say goodbye.”

She opened her eyes.

And Catrin was gone.

***

Azriel watched Gwyn talk to her sister’s grave from a safe distance. Gwyn spoke to her for what felt like hours until she laid down, gazing up at the sky. He didn’t interrupt her, not wanting to spoil this moment between her and Catrin. Eventually, she sat up, running her fingers over the words Catrin Berdara. When she stood, he finally approached her.

Her eyes were red and face blotchy, and she shivered from either the cold or her grief. He wasted no time in enveloping her in his arms, wrapping his wings around her to block out the outside world.

“Is there anything I can do?” He ran a hand up and down her back, trying to warm her.

She shook her head. “Catrin and I had quite the discussion.”

He kissed the top of her auburn head.

“We decided I should tell you something.”

“Yes?” his voice filled with curiosity over what Gwyn might have concluded after seeing her sister’s grave.

“I’m ready, Az.”

“To go home?”

“No. I’m ready to love you if you’ll let me. I know it might take some time, but Az? As far as I see it, we’re inevitable, and I’m willing to wait as long as you need if it means we’re together.”

His eyes bulged, mouth going slack. Around anyone else, he would never dare show emotion in a vulnerable time, but with her he didn’t want to hide anything.

She was ready to love him?

“I don’t understand-”

“Azriel, you are the most extraordinary person I have ever met. I see you, every part of you, and there is not a single facet that I don’t love. I love your eyes, that see me for who I truly am. I love your hands, that make me feel worthy of happiness. I love your shadows, who feel like a friend. I love your sharp, intelligent, beautiful mind. I love you.”

He couldn’t breathe. This is what he had wished to hear in his wildest dreams, every thought he’d had about her, this fierce, wickedly beautiful fae, reciprocated. He could hear his hammering pulse, feel his blood rush through him, and if they weren’t in a bloody graveyard, he would take her right here like she had asked him to do in that alley.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs caressing him gently. “I love you, Azriel.”

“Once more.”

“Forevermore, Azriel, I love you.”

It started to rain, the small drops igniting on his skin, every single one of his nerve endings on high alert as he looked his future, his glorious, exuberant, happy future in the eyes. “I love you, too, Gwyneth Berdara.”

Her smile was earth shattering, and her lips on his was apocalyptic. As she kissed him, everything else faded from his view. The temple melted away, the grass and trees and landscape fizzled out until there was nothing but her and the sky. There was no history between them, no other had ever touched their bodies, they were just two beings perfectly made for one another.

She was his home.

***

He winnowed them as close to the House as possible, flying them the rest of the way. He never let go of her, and Gwyn would have rebelled if he had even tried.

This was it. This was their end and beginning. Their before was officially over, and they were propelled into the now. Now their life began, now they could be together.

Gwyn didn’t take notice as to whether anyone else was in the House, her focus solely on Azriel. The way his hair moved as he rushed to his room, the molten look in his eyes and the focus on his face as he near ran to his room, his arms never wavering in their strength. When he did have to stop kissing her, she took the opportunity to press her lips to whatever skin she could find. The cheek, neck, that one little spot behind his ear that he loved.

He slammed his door behind them before pressing her into it, her legs wrapped around his hips and his hands under her thighs.

“I love you,” she moaned.

“I love you I love you I love you,” he whispered to her, his hand sneaking up her dress. “Then, now, always and forever. I love you, Gwyn.”  

“Azriel, I – I need-”

“Tell me what you want, anything I have is yours.”

Her breath shuddered. “I want to taste you. I need my mouth on you.”

He nodded, bringing them to the bed. Just like that very first night, he held her in his lap, his arms around her and supporting her body. She pushed him back, forcing him to lie down so she could be atop him. She never broke their kiss, never stopped her hands from roaming over his body. His hands, his beautiful hands, cupped her ass firmly, keeping her steady. As much as she loved this feeling, she wanted more of him.

She leant back so she could pull her dress over her head. She was wearing a coat, at some point, and had dumped it, at another unknown point. She had also kicked her shoes off, and Cauldron knew what part of the House they were scattered in. She was left in a bra and panties, a basic white pair that should have held no appeal at all, and yet he looked at her with such adoration that she nearly came just from his gaze.

Once again, she caught his lips in hers, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. His moan reverberated through her body, and she shimmied down until she was on her knees and faced with the button on his pants.

His arousal was clear, and she could feel how wet she was just from the knowledge that she did that to him – that he wanted her that much.

Azriel shifted, just to pull his shirt over his head, exposing his glorious chest to her. She wanted to trace each line of his tattoos with her tongue, but that could wait. Right now, she needed to taste him. She popped open the button, manoeuvring his cock so it was free. She could never fit the whole thing in her mouth as much as she tried, but that’s why she had been blessed with hands.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the head, Azriel’s hands tangling themselves in her hair and pulling just enough so that she knew how this affected him. One lick, from the base to the head, her tongue dragging across the sensitive skin, had him whispering her name reverently.

She engulfed him in her mouth, sucking and licking in a way she knew would make him feral for her, her hand wrapping around the rest of him, following the pattern she had made for herself. She left no part of him untouched, working to make him unravel before her.

His deep moans signalled how close he was, and it only spurred her to take him further, her eyes watering as he hit the back of her throat. She loved it, loved him, and she couldn’t wait to be consumed by him.

“I’m – I’m nearly there,” he warned her.

She sucked harder, her hands working the rest of him, leaving no inch of his cock untouched.

His whole body shook with release as he threw his head back, practically yelling her name. She swallowed every ounce he offered her before leaning back.

He pulled her up so she was lying atop him, his mouth capturing hers in a furious kiss. Usually, she could lie like this for hours, satisfied with his tongue lightly stroking hers, but she’d waited so long to have him, and she couldn’t bear to live another minute without knowing how he felt inside her.

“Az?”

“Gwyneth.”

“Now, please.”

He chuckled lightly. “My love, you’ll have to wait a few minutes after a performance like that. But I have an idea on how we can fill the time.”

He repositioned them. In her haste to taste him, they were still perched on the edge of his bed. He led them to the middle, pulling off his pants so he was fully naked before her. She could already see the beginnings of his next erection, but she would let him fill their time anyway. Anything he wanted he could have. All that she was, and would ever be, would always belong to him.

He rolled them so she was on top of him again, but instead of kissing her like he had before, he dragged her thighs up so she was straddling his abdomen.

“Keep coming,” he urged, his smile sly, his hands still pulling her forward.

Once she realised what he was doing, she was more than a willing participant. She moved so that her thighs were either side of his head, his mouth in line with her dripping core.

“Do you care about these?” He pulled on her underwear, letting it snap back into place.

“Not particularly.”

“Good.” He ripped them off her, flinging them to the side.

She gasped at the action, the possessiveness such a small movement implied, and it made her clit throb. Everything he did made her want to roll her hips in ecstasy, and as she held herself above him she wondered if his bedframe was sturdy enough for what they had in store for each other.

“Sit,” he ordered. “I don’t understand why you always try to hover.”

“I don’t want to suffocate you,” she laughed.

“Hmm, but at least I would die a very, very happy male.”

Wrapping his hands around the tops of her thighs, he yanked her hips down. She stuttered at the sudden contact, a strangled gasp escaping her as he licked up her wet centre, his moan making her clench her thighs together.

She felt like she was being devoured, he always knew exactly which points to hit and with the perfect pressure, and within moments she was grinding down on his face, pressing her own into the wall as her body contorted from the pleasure.

“Fuck, Az, don’t stop,” she moaned, loud enough that she hoped Cassian and Nesta weren’t home, knowing surely they would hear her screams.

He heeded her words, worshipping her with his tongue, every stroke a way for them to make up for lost time. She pressed her face into the cool wall and braced her hands on his bedframe, the feeling of his mouth on her almost too much to bear. She could feel her orgasm welling inside her, pressure clanging through her body as the intense feeling built. She could barely breathe as she climaxed, his tongue flicking and licking her clit until she was shaking above him, moaning his name like it was the only word she knew.

She collapsed next to him when he was done, tucking herself into his side. She was covered with sweat, and barely noticed when he, with just one hand, undid the clasp on her bra and slid it off her body.

He pressed kisses to her forehead, cheek, neck, before burying his head in her chest and taking a nipple in his mouth.

“Azriel,” she whispered, smoothing back his hair.

He hummed in response, gently biting on her left nipple. It made her arch her back in response, and she only saw it fitting to caress the one spot on his wing that she knew drove him crazy.

“What do you want?” he murmured to her.

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”

She tilted his chin up with her thumb so he was looking at her. His face was serene, the storms in his eyes finally calm, his lips parted slightly.

It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, and a smile overcame her when she realised that this, that he, was what she would be seeing for the rest of her life. No more restlessness or yearning, no more envy or pain, she had what people spent an existence trying to find.

“I… I want everything, Azriel. I want today, I want a lifetime.”

“Stay here, live here.” He lifted himself over her, pressing their bodies together and leaning on his forearms so his entire body weight wasn’t on her. “I’ve wasted so much time, let’s not waste anymore.”

“Az-”

“Gwyn, I-” he cleared his throat, his eyes shining. “Before we continue, take that last step, I need you to know how sorry I am. The way I’ve hurt you and the way I’ve driven you away are things I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“Azriel,” she said softly, wrapping her legs around him.

“I promise you, never again. I’m all in. You’re the one, Gwyn. You’re the love I never thought I’d have, the love I didn’t think was real until Rhys and Cassian found it. I swear my devotion will be unending, and by the Cauldron, you will be happy with me Gwyn. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. I am so, so sorry that it took me so long to realise.”

She rested her forehead on his, closing her eyes. “I love you.”

“I think – I think for someone like you to love me, that I must be a better person than I thought I was.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Clotho that I won’t be living in the library anymore.”

A single tear fell from Azriel, falling onto Gwyn’s cheek. He kissed it away, pressing them closer together. She could feel his length pressing into her stomach, and one hip movement from her would have him sliding over the still sensitive bundle of nerves he’d just marked as his own, but she didn’t want to interrupt this moment.

She bumped her nose to his, and he returned it with a kiss. “You’ll live here with me?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Do you know the room, two floors down, that overlooks Velaris? With walls of windows?”

Azriel had once explained to her that during the House’s conception, it was a dignitary’s suite. It was nearly self-sufficient on its own, only lacking a kitchen. It was where Rhys had taken Feyre after he’d first taken her from the Spring Court.

“I want us to live there. I love that we began here, in this room, but we need something bigger, that we can fit a family in.”

“A family?”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “In the future. Distant future. Is that something you want?”

The way he looked at her took her breath away – like she was who strung the cords of the earth together, like she set the sun and hung the stars. He looked at her like they were immortal but she was infinity.

“That is something I want. I want everything with you.”

“I’ll talk to Nesta, we’ll have it all arranged.”

“You don’t need to talk to her. We have a sentient House, we could move now if we wanted. She’ll say yes, I have no doubt-”

She interrupted him by finally lifting her hips, moving herself against him, telling him without words what she needed, what it was time for. They need not talk any longer, any specifics could be figured out another day. Right now was just for the two of them.

He kissed her again, the all-consuming, all-encompassing kind that left her hot and breathless.

He didn’t break their eye contact as he moved his hand between them to angle himself into her.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, caressing his face with her hands. She once expected to feel nervous or scared for a moment like this, but all she felt was love and joy. She felt safe. There was not a single inch of her that wasn’t ready for him.

He whispered a warning that made her laugh lightly, “I’m bigger than most, we’ll have to go slow,” but she wasn’t worried. Her body was made for his. And, when the timing was right, she would show him exactly how far that sentiment stretched. After all, the wraith in her meant her flexibility was unparalleled, and she was excited for him to take full advantage.

She squirmed slightly as he pushed himself into her. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, it was just starkly new. Azriel and her had dabbled many a times in self-pleasure, and there had been circumstances where instruments were used to increase hers, but it was different now. It wasn’t just some object. It was the male she loved, moving their bodies together to bring them both to the edge.

There was also the fact that her, Nesta and Emerie had snuck away to a very scandalous store and bought items that Gwyn used nightly not just to relieve herself, but to prepare for the sheer size of him. Two birds one stone.

“You okay?”

“Deeper, Az.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes.”

Every inch of him set her alight, the fullness making her feel a sense of completeness. He kissed her as he thrusted further, and when he was in to the hilt, she sighed happily. She took a second to adjust herself, adoring the way she felt around him. She ran her hands down his back, feathering across his wings before landing on his glorious ass. She squeezed, urging him to move.

“You’re ready?”

In response, she moved her hips to his, making him move ever so slightly. The way he moaned was better than any symphony Gwyn had ever heard.

And then he moved. And by the Cauldron, did he move.

Azriel was a humble man, and he had not exaggerated his size. Every movement had her stretching deliciously, his body so close to hers and angled just right so that his pelvis dragged across her clit with each thrust.

As he thrusted, her words nothing but pleasured, indiscernible syllables, his shadows danced around them, twining in and out of the crevices between their bodies, growing in size. Soon, they filled the room, vibrating as they responded to the energy Az and Gwyn were creating, and it was as though they were the only ones to exist. It was like making love in the night sky, unencumbered by the threat of gravity. Gwyn loved his shadows. They had always drawn her in, been a personable extension of him, and how could she not love any part of Azriel?

With every thrust, she felt a pressure unlike anything else growing in her. He kept hitting this one spot so perfectly that with each movement of his hips she would cry out. He kept mumbling her name, like she was undoing him each time her hips met his.

“Fuck, I love you,” he managed to cry, the words barely more than a grunt.

She responded only with a groan, her hands running down his back, her nails leaving red paths in their wake.

The pressure inside her grew, but it went beyond where they connected. It was like each of her cells were threads, reaching out and binding to themselves to him. Her heart, already so full, felt like it was about to implode. It was like she could feel him, feel his soul, tying itself to her irrevocably.

Her impending orgasm would probably be the best of her fucking life if this were anything to go by.

Her hands moved up his back until they landed on either side of his face. Whenever her eyes weren’t fluttering back uncontrollably from the pleasure, they were looking into his. She caressed his cheeks, breathing him in.

“You’re so beautiful,” she told him. “Your hands.” She reached for where they rested above her head, supporting Azriel’s weight. She intertwined their fingers before kissing him again. “They’re my favourite part of you.”

“That’s your favourite part?” He punctuated his words with another thrust, and she was close, so so so close, and she knew he was too.

“Second favourite part,” she choked.

She was whimpering his name at this point, drunk on the endorphins spiralling through her body. That feeling was climbing to a near unbearable point.

And then it hit her.

As she fell over that edge, tumbling into an abyss she didn’t know possible, Azriel falling alongside her, her name a prayer on his lips, it hit her.

As he looked at her, his eyes widening as those threads linked evermore, she knew he felt it too, that he knew the truth as irrefutably as she did.

Azriel’s shadows exploded around them. His windows shattered, blown away by the force of what Azriel was feeling. The bed shook, splintering beneath them, paintings fell from the walls, and Azriel wrapped her into his arms as he released into her.

“Azriel-”

“You’re my mate,” he gasped.

“You’re my mate,” she confirmed, unable to help the tears that fell from her eyes. This feeling, this knowing, was overwhelming.

This was it. Their lives started now.  

***

A/N: Following this at some point will be a fluffy epilogue! 

[moononastring]

Lucien Vanserra Week | Day V

Favorite Brotp

Now I know that this post is downright cheating however, can you really blame me? Lucien is such a social guy that it's hard not to have a favorite dynamic to choose from!

Lucien + Feyre: go back from ACOTAR days being absolute little shits together. I imagine that Lucien likes to come over and hang out with Feyre and baby Nyx often. Not to mention she is also his sister-in-law 😌

Lucien + Nesta: is a brotp I want badly because their dynamic would be hilarious. They secretly end up bonding over books and all of a sudden they have spa dates no one saw coming. She's the cool yet terrifying sis-in-law he didn't expect to like much less get along with. They're too witty for everyone around them.

Lucien + Vassa: is a bond that was forged under the worst kind of circumstances but they both have that fiery sense of humor and personality that makes them excellent friends and the worst to be around people. I like to imagine Vassa is a big cheerleader to Lucien courting Elain. He definitely takes her input when he's nervous about it.

Lucien + Jurian: are the dynamic duo of sarcastic disaster. They are the mean girls of the group when together. I like to think they look at each other just go "Bro." "Bro." while Vassa rolls her eyes in the background. Jokes on Vassa, she's the third wheel.

Lucien + Eris: I know Eris is his actual brother but since they had a less than ideal childhood, I hardly doubt they bonded much. Once Beron is dead, they slowly build a much better bond. Two redheaded dickheads unite to smirk their way through things. Lucien is still nicer than Eris. Eris still doesn't give a shit. Cue the awkward two-second hug in front of their mom and then the punch/kick that follows.

Lucien + Cassian: give off big dumb & dumber energy only because they choose to annoy the crap out of everyone around them together. This does not mean they don't actually bond over history and fighting techniques. Also, they're bro-in-laws DUH. Oh, and of course, there's their podcast. #TheNightLightPodcast

Lucien + Rhys: sudden memory loss on the strange but very brief fling they had years ago, these two bond over High Lord stuff, and how much they groan about it. They also have the same kind of sass that makes both Archeron sisters want to throttle them. Bro-in-laws unite in being annoying 🤝

@lucienvanserraweek

[separatist-apologist]

Exile

We always walked a very thin line

Chapter 22: Sometimes Before It Gets Better, The Darkness Gets Bigger

Read: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19| Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | AO3

TW: Blood, gore

Feyre sat on the mattress, back pressed to the headboard, her knees drawn to her chest. Rhy was asleep and she knew she ought to wake him. He needed to be up before his troops, needed to be ready for Hybern and his armies. She’d heard Nesta and Cassian, arguing softly in the hall thirty minutes before and then Elain and Lucien, their quiet steps echoing off the marble walls. Only she remained, arms locked around her body. The bruises were gone, her injuries vanished. She could pretend nothing happened, that she hadn’t nearly died at the hands of her mate. Saved by Nesta and her terrifying powers of death.

But every time Feyre moved to wake Rhys, she was paralized with grief and fear, awash in anger and rage. Amarantha was dead—she ought to be grateful but the knowledge only served to make her angrier. Who was there to punish if the object of her fears was gone? Only herself.

That scared her the most.

Rhys started, inhaling a choking breath. Eyes so blue they almost seemed violet searched the darkness until they found her, his body twisting to reach for her. She didn’t fight, not when he grasped, not when his fingers dug almost painfully into her skin or when he crushed her against him. She didn’t need to ask what haunted his dreams for hers were the same. She could feel his trembling, the soft sounds of his sobs muffled against her hair.

She stroked his forearm, pressing soft kisses to his skin until his breathing settled and his heart calmed. Thinking he was asleep, she meant to slide from his grip, to return to her post at the head of the bed where she could watch over them both, eyes facing the door. Just in case. His arms tightened.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” She turned to face him, her heart dropping. Raw anguish looked back, erasing the handsome, playful features of the man she loved. He was carrying all the same guilt she was, the guilt that Feyre knew would swallow them both before discarding them, making them little more than husks of who they’d once been.

“You don’t apologize to me,” she replied, surprised by her own ferocity. “Ever.”

“You–” his words choked into a new sob. It didn’t need to be spoken, the grief he carried, would perhaps always carry.

“You,” she murmured, lips pressed to his skin. “And me. That’s all I know, and all I’ve ever known with any certainty. And I knew it then, too.”

He shuddered. She carded her fingers through his hair, waiting until he was silent and still again. Daring to peek into his mind, she found swirling darkness lulling him to sleep, his nightmares held back by a net of her own making. Only stars escaped, illuminating the inky abyss he clung to.

She didn’t know how long she laid there like that, only that the violet glow of pre-dawn brought a soft knock to the door. Feyre said nothing, willing the world to evaporate until there was only Rhys and no one else.

The door cracked open, revealing the concerned faces of Cassian and Azriel. She met their gazes and knew there would be no hiding. Not from what was coming. The High Lord was required and his friends had let him sleep for as long as they could but night could only be held off by dawn for so long.

Rhys rose with a start, twisting to look at his brothers. “Five minutes,” he told them and she wondered what he’d said to them only they could hear. Azriel and Cassian bowed their heads, slipping back into the hall.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, holding her face between his hands. “As my High Lady?”

Feyre swallowed the urge to weep. “High Lady? Is that a thing?”

“It is now,” he told her crisply, his words rippling around them. He was a law unto himself and if he wanted a High Lady, the magic that governed him might shudder but would ultimately bow in deference.

“I need to stay with my sisters,” she reminded him, her vision clear to her. “But I will be with you.” She pressed her hand against his chest, letting herself revel in the steady thrum of his heart.

“You always have been,” he told her, the blankets falling from his waist. Feyre let herself stare at the muscular form of him, trying to remind herself she’d once hated him. Rhys chuckled, hearing her thoughts echoing through his own mind.

“Listening to you plot to kill me was an experience I shall cherish forever,” he told her. Feyre started, her mouth falling open.

“You were listening?”

“It was impossible not to, given how you shouted them at me day and night. You were such a charming thing–how could I not love you?”

“Don’t be silly,” she insisted but Rhys’s eyes were bright. Clear.

“I would never joke about loving you, darling. Each knew day dream of your knife penetrating my stomach only made me want you more. I swear it on my life.”

She remained sitting on the bed, mouth opened. “You’re a liar.”

“Take that back,” he replied, all trace of the weeping male from before gone. In his stead was a warrior in dark leather, a sword strapped across his back, silver hilt peeking over a broad shoulder. Feyre shivered as he prowled towards her, running a hand through thick, inky hair.

“I meant it,” he told her, sinking to one knee. “I loved you the moment you decided you’d kill me if it meant saving your sisters. I would do the same for my brothers. It was torture, wanting you the way that I did while you reviled me and I want you to know that your love means everything to me.”

“Then come back in one piece,” she replied, kissing him roughly. He groaned, pulling her close and were it not for another too polite knock on the door, she might have stripped him of his armor and made him later than he already was.

“I’ll do as you ask, High Lady,” he whispered against her skin, caressing her cheek before standing. Rhys went to the door where Cassian and Azriel waited, turning only once to look back at her. She thought he might say something but Rhys merely nodded before slipping into the last remnants of night.

Come back to me, he murmured in her mind, his voice rich with regret.

After this, I swear to never leave you again.

A wistful sigh filled her chest. That moment cannot come too soon.

**

Elain waited for Feyre in the ruined dining hall of Day Court, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear Eris Vanserra’s poor attempts at flirting. Arina was tasked with holding the palace and, after spending the night evacuating the city, was not impressed with Eris’s silky promises. At some point closer to dawn, Nesta joined Elain, plopping in the same chair Elain occupied with a heavy sigh. She reeked of Cassian, his scent wrapped around her like a lovers caress. Elain said nothing, too aware she must smell cloyingly of Lucien.

Eris vanished before Feyre arrived, her bruised fading and her eyes bright. The three crammed into the claw armed chair, reunited and alone for the first time since they’d been turned. Elain didn’t know what to say and so she said nothing, face nestled against Feyre’s shoulder, Nesta’s arms wrapped around them both.

“I want this to be over,” Nesta whispered into the pinky morning glow, her words hanging with the dustmotes in the air. “I want to go home.”

“Where is home anymore?” Elain asked, her own mind dreaming of a cinnamon scented breeze dragging orange leaves over swaying grass. None of them spoke, aware that their reunion was time-bound. A soft lullaby coiled through the air around them, the music hypnotic. Lovely. Elain wasn’t the only one who heard the haunting song. Both her sisters had inclined their heads, listening to the interloper with wary expressions.

“Hybern?” Feyre whispered, rising from their chair. Nesta joined, hand reaching for the sword at her back.

“The cauldron,” Elain told them, exhaling a breath on the word. “It’s calling us.” “We should destroy it.” Nesta looked at her unblemished palms as though the power to end the world lay within. Perhaps it did. Elain led her sisters through the archway, following the sound until it was deafening, a concert in the hall still stained with Graysen’s blood. Mist ecked from the wide mouth, the heat shimmering in the early morning air.

You have something that belongs to me.

Nesta and Feyre turned to Elain, who reached into her pocket to show the stolen chunk. “You took something of mine, too,” Elain reminded whoever spoke, wondering if they heard her at all. Elain looked to Feyre, who merely shrugged. Destroy it they should but as to how, they could only guess. Nesta, sheet white and trembling, stepped closest, hand-outstretched.

“I’ve heard your voice,” her eldest sister murmured. “You gave too much, I…”

There was no response to this accusation, only a softening of the music. The melody had changed, become out of key. Elain cocked her head, realizing the wrongness was the sounds of death now raging outside. If they succeeded here, they might spare the humans any more death but should they fail, the last defenses Prythian had would die with them.

“The Cauldron is a weapon,” Feyre reminded her sisters. “We could use it.”

“I would sooner die.” Elain all but spat the words, the memory of drowning burned in her mind. “We take it apart.”

The mist spilling from the cauldron intensified the closer they got, until the room was nearly choked in an opaque fog. Elain reached for the lip of the rough iron, the divet from her nails sharp on her palms. She could see the figures of her sisters just beside her, their hands covering her own as Elain set that missing piece back into place. Warmth flooded from the hand atop her own, their magic braided like a ribbon, wrapped around their wrists.

Elain could see it all, clutching the cauldron. Years of near starvation, held at bay by her sisters. Trading when they’d eat, when they’d bathe, when they’d sleep. The fear of capture, not just by the Fae but by any man who thought to have them. Of making themselves small, of smearing dirt over their faces until they could be assured no one would look twice.

They’d been powerless, tugged about by those far stronger than them. Remade, even, by those same forces that had once sought to destroy them. The Cauldron shuddered as Elain, Feyre, and Nesta shared a thought.

Never. Again.

It was an instinctual thing. They were new and yet somehow creatures of old, things that should not be. The cauldron sang because it must, because all magic obeyed something and this ancient and wild object recognized that which had made it. Feyre, night eternal and Elain, day incarnate, held together by death herself, Nesta. Unbroken.

The cauldron trembled beneath them, iron groaning under the weight of their combined magic. Elain could feel her fingers sinking into the sides like putty, reshaping, reforging. Still, the cauldron never stopped its singing, the humming reverberating through her bones until she could have been part of the object itself.

A crack rippled up its side, pouring blinding light from the wound. They didn’t seek to destroy–only remove, to make safe. The magic that governed their world would remain in tact so long as the pieces did, proof by Elain’s own theft when she’d been thrown into the depths.

Something cut through the fog, the violence jarring. Metal clashed with flesh and the sisters released the cauldron, sprawling to the marble floor with force. The mist retreated, sucked inward at the sight of the interloper. He was a sight to behold, his face twisted and bloodied, eyes dark and devoid of any light. A soul.

“Hybern,” Feyre breathed, blood trickling from her nose. He paused, a smile curling over bone white skin. Nesta was the first to rise, her sword unsheathed before her. Blue eyes, lined with silver, stared him down. Had he come alone?

Elain smiled, wiping her bruised palms on the loose fabric of her dress. Of the three of them, she was the only one not dressed for battle. Lucien had argued but Elain knew better. She didn’t need it.

Hybern’s eyes slid from Nesta to Elain, back to Feyre. “Sisters,” he breathed. “Or the three-headed Mother?”

They didn’t reply, coming to Nesta until the three stood shoulder to shoulder, the Cauldron at their backs. He advanced from the same arch way they’d walked beneath, his boot leaving bloodied prints on the golden marble floors beneath.

“You leave your soldiers to die?” Feyre asked, the sound of battle echoing through the room. The cauldrons song had died, leaving a fractured iron pot in its wake.

“Do I?” he taunted, running his thumb over his lip where a streak of blood dried. He smeared it, tasting. He smiled. “I’ve merely come to collect and… my what a prize.”

They didn’t move.

“You’re quite the little Queen, aren’t you?” Hybern continued, taunting Nesta. Did she seem the weakest to him? Elain almost laughed, her smile too big for her circumstances. She’d learned at he feet of Eris Vanserra how unnerving amusement could be. Hybern, too, glanced towards her, his thick brows furrowing at the sight.

“I heard a rumor. Tell me if it’s true. Three humans crossed the wall and found powerful Fae mates. What are the odds that one sister had a Lord for a mate…let alone three?”

“Want to find out?” Feyre asked, her words syrupy sweet. Hybern didn’t back down, hand clenched at his side.

“I think I’ll carve you up and hang you like art over the bed I chain your sister to,” Hybern replied, his voice light, his eyes wholly focused on Nesta. Feyre snarled in response, body tensed. Elain, too, dropped her smile at the insinuation though remained silent. She didn’t want to draw too much of his attention, not when he seemed to pay her no mind. Nesta’s hands trembled with the memory of Tomas.

Unbroken. The world around them trembled. Hybern hesitated, gaze shifting behind him. Elain slipped further from Nesta, reaching for the dagger hidden against her thigh. She could feel the carved striations, the gems laid against the cool steel of the hilt. Vanserra. She held it behind her back, watching.

Waiting.

“Perhaps it will be me, wearing your skin as a coat,” Nesta all but purred, masking her revulsion and fear. Hybern turned back to her, ignoring how Feyre had crept closer to the Cauldron, leaving Nesta front and center, the shield the pair would hide behind. “Or a rug to wipe my feet on.”

“You can wear me however you like,” he replied, hand outstretched. Nesta sucked in a breath and the world rattled beneath her. Elain and Feyre dodged, taking advantage of Hyberns distraction. Feyre’s fingers curled over the Cauldron, wrenching it apart with a terrible scream. Hybern turned to her, hand outstretched. He never touched her and yet the noise that ripped from Feyre’s chest was horrific. Unholy.

Nesta swung her sword, the metal igniting in blood red flame. She hissed, dropping it with a clatter to the floor. Hybern grabbed her by the throat, his face inches from her own.

“You will beg for my mercy,” he swore, his lips brushing her jaw. Nesta dragged her nails over his face, digging in the socket of his eye. She ripped with a scream, his blood splattered over her lovely face. Elain slipped into the shadows, her steps silent. It was easy to forget she was there when Feyre and Nesta were so loud, so lovely, so present. Elain had never minded the shine of her sisters and in that moment, was grateful for the practiced ability.

Outside, a roar of vengeance sliced through the sound of screaming metal and electric magic. “Is that your mate?” Hybern panted, his eye hanging grotesquely.

“He’ll eat your heart,” she swore. Feyre wobbled to her feet, teeth barred, and kicked one piece of the cauldron behind her. Puddling blood shifted around her feet, roaring to life like river rapids. Wolves, hungry and fearsome, snapped at her feet, leashed by a hungry mistress.

“I’ll wear his wings as a—” Hybern’s words choked against Elain’s blade, the tip protruding wholly through his neck. Nesta stood, reaching for that mangled eye and ripped, head thrown back in laughter at the sound of his scream. Elain closed her eyes against the spray of blood, the copper tang warm on her lips. Snarling, deafening in its promise, edged closer. Elain pulled her blade back from his neck, kicking him forward, her shoe flat against his spine. Nesta replaced her boot against his bloodied neck, holding the thrashing man still. Feyre raised a finger only, and her wolves pounced.

And the screams?

Better than any music Elain had ever heard.

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

---------------------------------

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

---------------------------------

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

---------------------------------

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

---------------------------------

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

---------------------------------

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

---------------------------------

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au Acosf - Chapter 80

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

The days rolled by in a familiar fashion. Nesta kept herself busy in the daytimes either working on the fund at the kitchen table with the backdoor open so Zasha could lope in and out as he pleased or bundled up in a chair in Emerie’s store chatting and laughing as she worked. A letter had been delivered by Baran with an engagement gift from Eris: an eye-watering donation to the fund which would go a long, long way helping struggling families.

A couple of books had been dropped off to her by a messenger from the Day Court too; the books had been written by Helion himself as the script matched the one in the letter pressed into her hand. The ink was golden, of course, and the handwriting elegant and looped. The flirty content would likely cause Cassian to knock down a building in that court too so Nesta chuckled at the letter then burnt it with her flames.

The books gave detailed accounts of weaving spells together so Nesta could better understand it. Rhys and Helion had also agreed at their dinner together that they would practise firstly weaving their magic together to see if it could be done then progress onto expanding the spell and including the other high lords. It would push Helion to his limits so, in his letter, Helion had also written that Nesta would owe him a big, big favour. She’d asked the messenger to wait while she wrote a hasty reply that said she would send Cassian to him as a treat.

Every other day, Rhys would turn up at the cabin for more training. Her magic was less unruly now she had stopped fearing it so much. Although the high lord encouraged her to try and siphon some off each day to take the edge off of it, all her power seemed to do was kill. There were patches on the lawn where she’d spilt a part of it and killed the grass. To counteract it, Nesta took to taking Zasha out for a walk across the craggy hills – sometimes accompanied by Emerie or Balthazar – and killing the odd heather plant or worm that she saw further from the cabin. It seemed a waste to keep rotting food. Wherever she had a spare ten minutes, Nesta would also bounce her flames between her hands as if she was juggling just to give her power the exercise. Rhys had likened it to a muscle that always required training. Even battling against his own magic was helping to train hers; hers felt as if it was sentient sometimes and had begun learning how Rhysand’s would move so they had to be careful that she didn’t strike him down dead – even if sometimes it was tempting.

Nesta liked to stay busy. As often as Cassian was free from duties, they’d explore parts of Illyria and he’d ask for her opinion on it. They’d developed their own scoring system based on the plant life, business, weather, and location. He hadn’t explained why, but Nesta guessed it was to build a new home for them.

Cassian was busy too. He had been discussing the construction of an orphanage with a team from Velaris and had begun the initial planning stages. Their evenings were generally spent in quiet working at the table, pausing every now and then to kiss when Cassian pulled her from her seat into his lap.

If both of them were sick of work, they’d head to the nearby village where Balthazar’s forge was. Lule usually met them in a flurry of wings while Lorin waddled along afterwards. The children had enjoyed their sweet treats from the Autumn Court – though Marsela had complained they refused to go to bed that night because they were so full of sugar. They embraced the waning days of summer together, seizing the time in the late August sun at the lake or picnic up in the hills. If Nesta had to endure Cassian’s family – he had to do the same for her. They were a mismatched family, Nesta realised: she and Emerie were glued together and Balthazar had become a willing part of their group. It was common for him to show up at Emerie’s or both females would head to his forge. It was more common to see the children there than not to see them too. Lule had also declared she would be a blacksmith when she grew up so Balthazar joked that he’d start training her early.

When Rovena had seen her for the first time since Nesta had moved to Illyria– then the engagement ring – she’d cradled Nesta’s face and kissed her forehead gently. More and more, Rovena was venturing beyond just the market stall. It was a regular occurrence to come to the village and find Azriel’s mother holding Lorin’s hand in the shallows of the lake or standing beneath a tree ready to catch Lule as she leapt from it. It still broke Nesta’s heart to think of the motherhood that Rovena had been denied by her son’s imprisonment at the hands of his cruel father. She wished there was a way to put Rovena and Adeline in a room together so they could share their hurts and find strength in each other; both deserved happiness.

‘Will you come to the wedding?’ Nesta asked, whittling the end off of a stick.

Rovena’s face stiffened slightly, but she continued playing with Lorin and his wooden jigsaw. ‘I would like to.’

‘It can be in this village,’ Nesta reassured her. ‘And it will not be large. I have no friends.’

‘You’ve got me!’ Balthazar protested. The male was squatting down, trying to kindle a fire to life. Nesta was trying not to think about it, trying not to draw attention to the flames.

‘I have a handful of friends,’ Nesta amended – and Rovena smiled. ‘I would really like it if you came, Rovena, but I understand if it is too much.’

The female nodded and Nesta caught the bob of her throat as she swallowed. ‘I will try. How is the planning going?’

‘I am a very organised person, but I haven’t a clue where to start,’ Nesta conceded. ‘I have the husband at least; I think that’s the most important part.’

Nesta added another stick to their pile ready for when the fire was hot enough to begin cooking. Emerie was off with Lule searching for insects; the outline of the two could be seen on the lake’s edge in the distance. Lule fluttered around Emerie’s head like a butterfly as they hunted. They’d taken a bucket with them so Nesta had little doubt that they wouldn’t return until Lule had found something worthwhile to show off.

Marsela was recovering from another sickness so Balthazar had offered to take the children for the evening so she could rest. When she had enquired about Marsela’s age, Balthazar had grimaced and said it was in the four-digit region. Fae lives were long, but even Nesta knew thousands was nonsensical. There were five centuries between her and Cassian – would it mean that she would have five hundred years without him? It was an answer that she did not want to know.

That evening, they had the unexpected arrival of the High Lord and Lady – along with the Lord of Bloodshed himself. Rovena got to her feet, ready to bow but Rhys waved her offering away and assured her it wasn’t necessary.

The tension mounted slightly amongst the other Illyrians who were a little unsure of how to behave in their presence – and Nesta was tempted to tell them to leave her friends and go back to Velaris. Thankfully, Lule blundered over brandishing a dead dragonfly in her fingers at Rhys. She had recognised his face from the cabin, but seemed not to remember that he was the High Lord of the Night Court. Feyre’s face was happy as she watched her mate be challenged to a flying race across the lake by the little girl – then when Lule cheated and won, everybody was laughing.

‘Who taught you to whittle?’ Cassian asked, inspecting one of her sticks.

‘I can only whittle a spike – and my good friend, Balthazar, taught me.’

Balthazar patted his chest in appreciation. ‘Lord of Bloodshed, could you maybe make yourself useful?’ The male passed him a pack of sausages that they’d brought earlier from a butcher’s shop.

Cassian got to the task, carving an X at each end then impaling them on the whittled sticks. It did not appear to be the first time he’d done such a thing in his life.  

‘What are they?’ Feyre peered at the one Cassian had pressed into her hand and told to hold above the flames.

‘Špekačky. The best Illyrian food. Do you have horčica?’

Emerie scoffed, rotating her stick. ‘What do you take us for? We are true Illyrians.’ Balthazar cheered at her words – the noise made Lorin laugh.

It was a beautiful evening, spent chatting happily around the fire. For once, the flames didn’t bother Nesta because the conversation flowed and flowed offering a distraction. Nesta had a piece of bread placed in her hand then Cassian tipped some of the sauce – a kind of mustard – onto it, followed by her roasted sausage. There was no plate or cutlery, but it seemed better that way. Everybody laughed at the state the children had got themselves into with sauce spread around their mouths. Lorin kept trying to snatch the sausages from the flames, so Rovena had him firmly in her lap, gripping his little hands to her stick.

Feyre had even chosen to sit by Nesta. Their conversation was hesitant but civil enough. Nesta told her the story of giving the two children sugared treats from the Autumn Court which made her sister laugh. It was a shame they hadn’t done such a thing before – just sat together as sisters rather than enemies. Maybe one day, they would get there. Maybe one day, Elain would also be beside them.

‘How is Eris doing as High Lord?’ Rhys asked casually. It was a dip for information, Nesta could see through it plainly enough.

‘Splendid. Although, he did say I’m making Zasha fat and spoilt.’ The dog was laying beside them, gazing hopefully at anybody who held a sausage in their hands.

Rhys sucked in a breath then clapped Cassian on the back. ‘It’ll happen to you too, brother.’

‘Where is the third brother?’ Rovena asked, smiling politely. ‘Where’s my son these days? He’s becoming a stranger.’

‘We’re meeting him in the mortal lands soon – actually, we should get going. We have a meeting with Vassa,’ Rhys explained. ‘Rovena, I promise on his day off, I’ll send him to Rosehall. He’s invested in training the females in Iron Crest at the moment.’ 

‘That is good to hear,’ she agreed although Balthazar shuddered.

‘I had to spend a week there once. Nearly kissed Devlon’s boots when I got back.’ The other males chuckled at Balthazar’s words. Nesta could only guess it meant Devlon looked like an angel compared to the other high lords.

‘If you think Karius is bad,’ Rhys said, a smirk brimming on his lips, ‘You should see Cassian when he’s in a bad mood.’

***

More and more, Cassian was glad to be in Illyria. It was a part of him that he’d always been made to feel ashamed of. There were parts of that culture that needed change, that need rejuvenation, but other parts – gathered with friends, eating with their hands and sharing stories by a fire – were the parts that really made his homeland shine. Rhys had called Nesta an Illyrian once, and he’d thought his brother could not have been more wrong. Yet, his mate was at home there. Nesta was more comfortable in Illyria than he’d ever seen her anywhere else. She’d made friends with its people far easier. Even dressed in beautiful gowns that swept around her ankles, Nesta could be seen taking a walk amongst the gorse-streaked mountains with Zasha or kneeling beside Lorin by the edge of the lake to examine stones.

Prior to departing, Cassian had planted a kiss on Nesta’s lips that had made her blush then Lule had flown into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. The move had startled him, but he embraced the little girl back with a bone-crunching squeeze that made her giggle. Balthazar promised to ensure Nesta and Emerie got back home safely – and Cassian knew he’d be true to his word. The three of them were each other’s shadows recently. Before winnowing with the others, Cassian decided to take the step that Nesta was too shy to do and broach the subject of Rovena making her dress. She’s stared daggers at him, but Rovena had let out a happy noise of surprise so he’d take Nesta’s ire later.

Torrential rain met them in the mortal lands so they hurried into the house the moment that Jurian sprang open the door. Chairs had been brought in from the dining room so they could all gather in the living room. Vassa and Lucien seemed to be locked into a heated discussion, their faces were inches away, both with creased brows, but promptly stopped the moment their group entered. Vassa feigned her casual languish on the couch, smiling slightly as she leaned back into the armrest.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Lucien asked, already sweeping from the room without waiting or a reply.

As usual, Jurian said nothing. It happened more when Rhys was around. Cassian wasn’t sure how much their paths had crossed throughout history or what had truly transpired between them Under the Mountain, but Jurian always remained tight-lipped with Rhys. Perhaps it was because his brother was so truly other. Power rippled from him in a thick wave that could suffocate sometimes. Mortals might feel that sense of power more – and Cassian supposed Jurian was not an ordinary mortal man. The shadows of the past still hunted the man. Their evidence lay beneath his brown eyes. Yet despite his disdain of the fae, Lucien had been welcomed into the fold.

Once Lucien returned, the whole room gave a collective sigh of relief; Rhys and Vassa had been making polite small-talk while the rest of them sat silently listening into the forced conversation. It seemed that Lucien was the glue holding them altogether. The male moved seamlessly from court to court and below the Wall.

‘You called for this meeting,’ Rhys said, indicating they should begin quickly. Despite their power, all of them still grew nervous in the mortal lands. Their senses felt different.

‘Shouldn’t we wait until Azriel arrives?’

Rhys waved his hand at Lucien’s suggestion then tucked it around Feyre’s shoulders. ‘I’ll fill him in on anything important. He’s tied up in Iron Crest.’

‘No trouble, I hope?’

Vassa tipped her chin up at Lucien’s question, a slight tell that she was interested in the topic of unrest in Illyria. Rhys shrugged. ‘Quite the opposite. We’ve tried more males with siphons and they’ve taken well to their power.’

‘The Night Court always needs to breed more Illyrians for its armies,’ Jurian said, immovable from his post by the wall.

‘Illyria has always been a formidable force,’ said Feyre.

Jurian let out a long laugh dripping with sarcasm. ‘What would a twenty-two year old woman know of Illyria’s history? Especially one who was human not that long ago.’

‘She is its high lady,’ Rhys snapped, the power leaking out in his voice.

The man raised his eyebrows at Rhys’ tone then started picking his nails, utterly dismissing him. ‘Can she read now?’

Both Cassian and Rhys were on their feet – as was Lucien who fought valiantly to keep the peace. Jurian didn’t so much as flinch in the face of two fae with enough power to disintegrate him so thoroughly that not even the wind would remember his name.

‘I only ask because I was there on Amarantha’s hand the whole time. I watched you struggling to read, high lady.’ His tone was rude enough that Cassian wanted to rip out his throat with his bare hands. Only the Mother knew what Rhys wanted to do to him. ‘I remember everything, Rhysand. I was there through every moment. What a wonderful dancer your mate is.’

‘Enough.’ Lucien’s voice cracked as swift and hard as a whip, cutting through the tension. ‘Make yourself scarce.’

The man bent low in a mockery of a bow. ‘Send Nesta next time. She’s a much better sparring partner,’ he said, as he sauntered from the room. ‘At least she’s worked hard to get where she is.’  

‘Apologies for my general. He is out of sorts today,’ Vassa explained with a slight snigger, watching the door swing closed.

‘He hates Graysen’s wife and must hold in his anger anytime they are in a room together so comes back wanting to argue with us all night. I daresay it makes a change for him to find new opposition.’ Lucien poured the tea for them, his face carefully blank. ‘On the few occasions they’ve met, Nesta and Jurian have enjoyed their arguments.’

Feyre’s brows were drawn together, her blue-grey eyes swirling to fend off tears but she spoke. ‘Did you say Graysen’s wife?’

Lucien met Feyre’s eyes, his own brow creasing, then nodded once.

‘It was a private occasion to a pretty, little thing,’ the mortal queen explained. ‘After his last fiancée turned fae and galivanted to the Night Court, he dec-’

‘You are not to blame the failings of the engagement on Elain.’

At Lucien’s reprimand, Vassa rolled her eyes. ‘My goodness, the men in his house certainly are full of testosterone tonight. Perhaps you and Jurian should go for a wrestle in the mud to calm yourselves – it would be enjoyable to watch for the rest of us.’

When the door knocked, Cassian knew at once that it was his brother. And he was glad for a change in the tension-addled room. 

‘Apologies. Iron Crest is keeping me busy,’ Azriel said, his voice flat. His brother took a seat beside him. Although he was run ragged, Azriel looked better recently – less tired, more prone to quiet laughter than silence. He hoped that Azriel was finally seeing the goodness in Illyria because it did exist and it deserved to flourish.

Sinking into the couch by Vassa, Lucien strummed his fingers on his knee. ‘Briallyn has moved. She has tried to seek out two of the other queens.’

Azriel’s wings flared. ‘My spies haven’t turned out any information on her.’

‘The spymaster out-foxed,’ Vassa hummed.

Lucien tried not to smile at Vassa’s remark, but Cassian caught the subtle poke of his elbow into her ribs. ‘I don’t employ spies. I make friends.’ The male cocked a leg over his ankle and took a long swig of his drink. ‘She’s being shunned by the others. They’re afraid she’ll use the crown on them to try and seek their lands. Briallyn won’t make allies.’

‘Why now?’ Feyre asked.

‘The tattoo,’ Cassian offered. ‘Nesta’s bargain with Eris – it’s over. That was keeping Koschei from her.’

‘It could be linked. I don’t like to believe in coincidence where the Archeron sisters are concerned,’ said Rhys, threading his hand into Feyre’s.

‘Has Eris refused to bargain with her again?’ Az asked, turning his hazel eyes to Cassian. Only Az knew how much he hated Eris because it was shared between them. Knew that Az hated asking about Eris as much as Cassian hated speaking of him.

He groaned. ‘The opposite. Eris has offered. By her account, he was quite insistent but Nesta is the one refusing. Even I have offered her a deal, but she is too damn stubborn.’

That was met with laughter. Yes, she was stubborn but it was becoming more serious. Even now, Cassian had to fight the urge to get back to her and ensure that she was safe. Balthazar would protect her – even Emerie – but they weren’t seasoned fighters. Next to an immortal, what could they do? What could anyone do for Nesta?  

‘She has a plan – or at least she tells me she does.’

Azriel shook his head. ‘You need to find it out, Cass. She’s not a fighter.’

Lucien appraised them both. ‘I spent an afternoon with her and her friends in the library. They were militant in their research. I would believe her when she says she has a plan.’

‘We need to keep her close. Keep her safe. Perhaps move her to a safe location.’

Cassian bristled – not at Rhys’ suggestion, but because he knew it would not be an option for Nesta. ‘She won’t bow to fear. She will not change anything about her life.’

‘It’s for her own good, Cass.’

Cassian shook his head. ‘She’ll hate it. She won’t want it. I know her best. If I could, I’d fly her to the middle of nowhere, where nobody could find her, and keep her safe until my last breath. But she will hate us for it.’

He refused to drive Nesta away again. Although he’d try and make her see reason, he also knew his mate’s spine was made from steel and unlikely to ever change. It was why he loved her.

‘Could we ensure somebody is always with her? Someone to protect her? Then she can carry on as normal but she'd be safer.’

Rhys twirled a lock of Feyre’s hair around his finger. ‘You’d like me to babysit your big, scary sister?’

She threw him a vulgar gesture then continued. ‘Between us, we can protect Nesta – at least long enough to get her out of any danger. Mor, me, Rhys, and Az – we can all winnow. We can all fight.’

Cassian snorted. ‘Who taught all four of you to fight?’

‘But you cannot winnow.’

He gritted his teeth, trying not to argue with Feyre in public and undermine her status as the High Lady of the Night Court. ‘Nesta is my mate. I will be spending the most time with her.’

‘And most likely to be used against her,’ Rhys countered.

‘I am her mate. I would give my life so she can run. There’s no force in this world that could cleave us apart.’ Cassian levelled Rhys with a glare. The idea of not being on a duty to protect Nesta was utterly ridiculous. He’d die for her, kill for her. ‘Besides, if you put Mor on duty with her, I think they’d rather Koschei came than be forced to make conversation.’

It would be a recipe for disaster if Mor was invited to watch over Nesta, especially if it took place in Illyria too. Rhys wouldn’t want to risk Feyre with Nesta either but that was a conversation for the couple to have in private.

‘I’m happy to spend time with Nesta,’ Lucien said, catching them all by surprise.

‘We’re talking about the eldest Archeron, Lucien, not the middle one,’ Rhys winked.

Again, the tightness that had been nibbling at Lucien’s features throughout the night flashed stronger. ‘How can you be shocked that she’s reluctant to spend time in your group when she is always mocked by you? If this is how you speak of Nesta, your mate and sister, I dread to think what is said about me when I’m not in earshot.’

A heavy silence descended upon the living room. Mor and Amren still did not trust the male fully, believing he was too far into Vassa’s pockets. Even Azriel had started voicing doubts since they knew he was voluntarily going to the Autumn Court to visit his mother. Yet Lucien did not receive the same chiding Nesta did for her character or behaviour.

‘I like Nesta,’ he said, breaking the silence. Vassa regarded him carefully. ‘She may come across as intimidating, but if she can stand against Beron or make Eris’ heart start beating again, then she is a female to be celebrated. I will be happy to protect her – if she allows it.’

‘Fine,’ Rhys said folding his hands into his lap. ‘We’ll keep a watch on Nesta when she’s out in public. Cass, you can be the one to broach that news with her.’

Azriel clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll send a storm warning to Windhaven.’

Every summer, I go camping in Slovakia and špekačky are the best part. It’s really common to have a camp fire or to ask people you don’t know if you can share their fire and get talking to them. You whittle the end off a stick to roast it. Here’s a picture of what I imagined them munching in Illyria

[theladyofdeath]

The Return 2 {The Arrival, Part 2}

Summary: Back at the lake house, ten years later… Collaboration with @snelbz - part 2 to the sequel!

Word Count: 7136

The Arrival Series Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Even ten years later, Elain was still the first one awake whenever they took family vacations. She had woken up with the sun, tried — and failed, miserably — to rouse Azriel from sleep, read her devotions, gotten in some yoga, and started on breakfast, all before she heard the first footstep from anywhere in the house. But soon enough, she heard slow, sleepy steps on the stairs, though they headed towards the back of the house rather than towards the kitchen.

Ruling out Lannan and his voracious appetite, along with Thorn, Bennett, and John, Elain waited, mixing up the pancake batter after she put a large pan of bacon into the oven.

A few minutes later, Scarlett appeared, dragging a still half-asleep Cassian by the hand. He was yawning and had a hair brush, comb and two hair ties in his hand.

“Good morning, you two,” she laughed, pouring Cassian a cup of coffee, which he looked like he desperately needed.

He mumbled something that sounded like a typical morning greeting, while Scarlett gave her a sleepy smile after climbing up onto one of the barstools. “G’morning, Aunt Lainey. Are we having pancakes for breakfast?”

“And bacon,” she replied, smiling at her youngest niece. Layla and Scarlett had sleepovers all the time, being the two youngest and close in age.

Scarlett grinned and turned to Cassian. “Remember, I want two braids, daddy, not just one.”

He nodded, still drinking his coffee, but handed her the brush to start detangling her long, waist-length hair.

“Nesta not up yet?” Elain chuckled, pouring some of the batter into the hot pan.

“I like it better when daddy braids my hair. Mommy makes it too fancy,” Scarlett replied, scrunching up her nose.

“That’s right,” Cassian mumbled, running his fingers through his youngest’s hair. “Dad keeps the braids messy.”

Elain laughed quietly as she continued to make breakfast. “Well, if you have the magic touch, I may make you braid Layla’s hair. She always complains when I do it, and the art of braiding isn’t exactly one of Azriel’s many talents.”

“We don’t need to hear about Azriel’s many talents,” Cassian warned.

Elain jabbed him in the ribs, which only made Cassian laugh as he began to braid his daughter's hair.

“Is Thorn going back to jail today?” Scarlett asked.

Cassian sighed, Scarlett wincing as he made sure his braid was tight. “No, Thorn’s not going back to jail, ever.”

The ten-year-old rolled her eyes. “Never say never, daddy.”

Elain chuckled as she set a giant mountain of pancakes on the island. “Give your brother a break. He’s a good boy.”

“No, he’s not,” Scarlett said, earning a snap from Cassian for her to stay still while he worked. “He swears too much and he smells yucky.”

“All teenage boys swear too much and smell yucky,” Cassian promised. “Just wait until you’re a teenager and you like those yucky boys.”

“I’m not ever going to like boys,” Scarlett promised. “I’m going to stay single and awesome forever.”

Elain shook her head, humored, as she watched her niece.

“That would make daddy very happy and I’m holding you to it,” he replied, tying the elastic around the end of the braid and starting on the second.

“Aunt Lainey, does Luna like smelly teenage boys?” Scarlett asked, looking up at her.

Luna was Scarlett’s idol. Everything the girl did, the younger one was right behind, whether it was a trend, style or even just following her around. And Luna handled it well, for a sixteen-year-old girl. She never complained, even when her own baby sister was in tow. Cassian was sure that because she was a carbon-copy of Elain, right down to the soft, caramel colored eyes.

Elain smirked as she set a plate down in front of Scarlett, a small stack of pancakes on top of it. She pulled the bacon out of the oven before replying. “Oh, she does. And Uncle Az is not happy about it.”

“Isn’t happy about what?” The man in question asked as he rounded the corner, heading straight for the coffee pot. He paused to kiss Elain’s cheek. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Luna Bug’s boyfriend,” Cassian smirked, watching as Azriel’s good mood deflated.

“We don’t talk about him,” Azriel said, quietly, as he filled his mug. “And definitely not this early in the morning.”

“He has a name,” Elain said, simply. “And you should call him by it.”

“The name I have for him shouldn’t be said around Scar,” Azriel said, pausing as he passed her to kiss the top of his niece’s head.

“He’s a good kid,” Elain said, rolling her eyes. “And I think Luna and Lachlan are good for each other.”

“Lachlan,” Scarlett repeated. “I like that name.”

Cassian’s grin only widened as he looked up at Azriel, who sat at the table, sipping from his mug.

“Just wait until she thinks she’s old enough to date,” Azriel said, gesturing to Scarlett.

“Oh no,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “She’s already informed me that she’s staying single and awesome forever, so.”

Azriel snorted as the twins came into the room, followed by John, whose hair was sticking up in every which direction.

“Mom says she’s taking a shower then she’ll be out to help make breakfast,” John said, yawning as he flicked Olive on the back of the ear. She flipped him off, which earned a gasp from Scarlett and a laugh from Cassian.

“No need, your Aunt has been up since the crack of dawn,” Azriel said, nodding toward the food. “Eat up.”

John didn’t need to be told twice. At fourteen, he was eating more than nearly everyone else - followed closely by his older boy cousins, who were, no doubt, still sound asleep.

Lily was still mortified by her new haircut, but thanks to a French braid of some sort, it could barely be noticed. She and Olive got a couple of pancakes each and talked to each other quietly.

Once Scarlett’s hair was finished, Cassian got his own breakfast, splashing a bit of whiskey into Azriel’s coffee and his own when he thought no one was looking, and sat down at the table. Mid bite, his chewing slowed down as he looked at Olive. “Liv, I think you still have makeup from yesterday on. You’ll probably want to get that off before we go on the boat.”

She rolled her dark, lined eyes. “It’s Olive, Uncle Cass, and it’s waterproof eyeliner. I’ll be fine.”

Lily, fresh faced, shook her head. “She’s too cool to be seen without her makeup anymore.”

Elain was chuckling at the stove as the two girls quietly bickered and Cassian was immediately grateful he only had one daughter.

“What’re we doing today?” John asked, his mouth full.

“Ask when your mouth isn’t full and I’ll tell you,” Cassian said, sitting next to his middle child.

“Yeah, John, have some manners.” Thorn entered the room, grumpy as hell, the first thing out of his mouth directed at his younger brother.

“Says the asshole that spent yesterday in jail,” John muttered, mouth still full.

“Watch your mouth,” Cassian snapped, his mouth also full.

Azriel just shook his head, watching the three of them. He looked at Scarlett. “How do you and your mom handle those three?”

Scarlett shrugged as she hopped off her stool. With a piece of bacon in each hand, she said, “We stick together. Girl power.”

Elain laughed, winking at her niece as she fled from the room.

Layla appeared a minute later, on Rhysand’s back, wide-eyed and chipper. Bennett was soon behind, and Cassian snorted.

“How is it that the kids from your side are the ones still asleep when Elain is one of the first ones up?” he asked, looking at Azriel.

“Luna’s probably awake and talking to-.”

“If you say his name again, I’ll lose my appetite, then my mood will be destroyed for the rest of the day,” Azriel said, holding up his hand and looking at his wife.

“Lachlan is so sweet though,” Lily said, sighing, and Olive nodded, which earned them a look from both Rhys and Azriel.

“Teenage boys aren’t sweet,” Rhys told his daughters. “They’re crafty, lying, disgusting creatures.”

Lily and Olive looked at Thorn and Bennett, both shoveling food into their mouths. Their brother responded. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to say he’s wrong?” Olive asked, looking between them.

“No, because then I’d be lying and proving him right,” Bennett replied.

“And we’re pretty disgusting,” Thorn added, shoving an entire piece of bacon into his mouth in two bites. Bennett nodded and was getting up for seconds when Rhys stopped him.

“Save some food for your mothers, please,” he said. “After mom and Aunt Nesta eat, you can get more.”

Layla quietly approached Cassian and tapped on his shoulder, asking if he could braid her hair, too. He gave Elain a knowing look, but picked Layla up and set her in Scarlett’s vacated seat. “Only cause you’re the cutest one here,” he whispered, so only she could hear. She giggled and nodded, sitting still as he went to work.

Nesta and Feyre made their way into the kitchen soon after, with Azriel going to retrieve Lannan, who was still sleeping like the dead. Luna was the last to arrive, claiming she’d slept in, too.

“Y’all wanna make some sandwiches for the boat while we get everything ready to go?”

Cassian asked Nesta and his sister-in-laws.

“You don’t want to come back for lunch?” Nesta asked. “You want to keep nine kids on a boat all day?”

He shrugged. “They'll be swimming and wakeboarding and tubing. They’ll be busy. Plus Thorn and Bennett are taking out the jet skis.”

Thorn raised his hand.

Bennett gave him a high-five.

John frowned. “Why can’t I take one of the jet skis?”

“Because we’re older,” Thorn said, simply.

“That’s not fair,” John argued. “What kind of argument is that?”

“Thorn and Bennett are taking the jet-skis,” Cassian said, his voice holding no room for argument. “You can take one tomorrow.”

“Ooooh, me too,” Luna said. “I call one for tomorrow.”

Thorn rolled his eyes, the only sign that he was annoyed.

The second that Nesta and Feyre sat down with their breakfasts, Thorn, Bennett, and John were on their feet, fighting for what was left.

“Animals,” Lily scoffed, taking Olive by the elbow and leading her down the hall to their room to get ready.

Thirty minutes and almost just as many sandwiches later, everyone was loading onto the boat, save for Thorn and Bennett who took off towards the jet-skis as soon as they were given the okay. After strict instructions to stay within sight of the parents, they were firing them up and taking off, Cassian starting the boat and following behind.

Elain fell into the seat at the front with her oldest daughter, wrapping an arm around her as the wind whipped back their hair. “What’s Lachlan doing this weekend?”

Her knees were tucked under her chin and she looked out over the passing water. “He and his parents went to Orynth. They’re touring a college there, but he doesn’t want to be that far from home.”

“Far from home or far from you?” Elain asked, nudging her slightly.

Luna blushed. “Both.”

Lachlan was a year older than Luna, so college was much more prevalent on his mind, as a senior. Or it should have been, had Luna not already had her five-year-plan made, starting with attending the University of Velaris and ending with a degree in business and communications, an internship under her belt and an entry-level position in a company she could grow at.

“Sounds serious,” Elain said.

“Too serious,” Azriel muttered, and both of them turned around, unaware that Azriel was just on the other side. Elain lifted a brow. “What? She’s sixteen.”

“Exactly,” Luna said, crossing her arms. “I’m not a child anymore, dad.”

Azriel didn’t respond. He simply walked to the cooler, opened a beer, and sat next to Rhysand.

“Ignore him,” Elain said, her arm around Luna. “He’ll come around.��

“Doubtful,” Luna muttered.

“You’re the oldest girl in the family,” Feyre said, as she took the seat on her other side. “You finding a boyfriend is uncharted territory.”

“It’s just not fair,” she said, simply. “Thorn and Ben have had tons of girlfriends, since middle school, and no one has ever batted an eye. I get my first serious boyfriend, and dad…” She shook her head as she glanced at Azriel, who was sipping his beer with a rigid jaw. “It’s like I’m a criminal or something.”

“And you weren’t even the one in jail,” John muttered, gazing out over the water.

Cassian hit him upside the back of the head.

“Dad will come around,” Elain promised again.

“Maybe we should keep the boyfriend talk to a minimum,” Luna muttered. “At least for this weekend.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, propping her feet up in the empty second chair and giving her niece a comforting smile. “He’s going to have to get used to you dating eventually. And Lachlan is very sweet. You could’ve ended up with someone like your Uncle Cassian. He’ll get used to you having a boyfriend. I promise.”

Cassian brought the boat to a stop, effectively ending the conversation and started unloading the wakeboarding equipment.

“Can we ride tubes first, Uncle Cass?” Lily asked. “Tubing always gets saved for last and we never have much time thanks to you guys wakeboarding for hours.”

He was about to protest, even though he knew she was right, even with the unnecessary eye rolling, but Nesta said, “I think starting with tubing is a good idea. Let those two expend some of their energy before they board and try to do tricks they can’t accomplish. No trips to the hospital this year.”

The year before, there had been two trips to the hospital. One for Bennett, who’d gotten a concussion, and one for Cassian…who had thrown out his back, thanks to thinking he was still youthful enough to complete some of the tricks he had attempted.

He wasn’t.

This year, they were having none of that.

“Fine,” Cassian sighed. “Get out the tubes.”

The kids let out a round of excited yells, and up ahead, Bennett and Thorn were riding circles around each other.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel took turns driving, seeing which of the kids they could throw off their tubes. Even Luna almost let out a curse - almost, but not quite.

Once they were done, everyone grabbed a sandwich as the wakeboarding began. Thorn was the first to go, which meant that John got his jetski, so everyone was happy.

At least until Thorn wiped out, then he was just pissed.

When everyone was worn out, Cassian brought the boat back to the dock, and one by one, everyone got off to slowly make their way back up to the house.

Rhysand was the last to get off, carrying a sleeping Layla up the hill. He laid his niece down in her bed before fighting everyone for one of the two showers.

“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” He asked as he stepped into the kitchen, fighting off a yawn.

Nesta was doing the same and Elain chuckled. “Seems like everyone could use some downtime. Why don’t we let the kids do their thing, take naps if they want, and we’ll start dinner around five-thirty?”

“A nap sounds awesome,” Nesta said, wrapping her arms around Cassian’s waist and laying her head on his chest. From the look on his face, he didn’t think she meant it literally. From the look on hers, she did.

And so everyone went their separate ways. Most of the kids ended up in the bonus room, either playing Xbox or entertaining themselves in someway. Ironically, only Luna and Lannan decided to lay down for naps, and Nesta, of course.

Elain’s alarm on her phone went off, letting her know it was five-thirty. She and Azriel had taken advantage of their alone time and were now just laying in bed together, although Azriel it seemed was half-asleep now that it was time to get up.

She looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He responded by rolling his head to the side, looking for her lips without opening his eyes. She kissed him again, but pulled away when his tongue brushed against her bottom lip.

Laughing softly, she got out of bed and started getting dressed. Azriel watched her with sleepy eyes. “I’m going to get Feyre so we can start making tacos. Will you get the kids up around six?”

He nodded, tucking an arm behind his head and closing his eyes again. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“That’s asking a lot,” he replied, catching her before she could stand up, twining his fingers into her hair. “You wore me out.”

“Hush,” she said, blushing, and kissed him again before slipping out the door.

He heard a knock on a door down the hall and then Feyre’s voice joined Elain’s. The word daddy was unmistakable as they walked away and he couldn’t help but chuckle even as he blushed and covered his face with Elain’s pillow.

Once the smell of delicious food cooking started wagging towards their room, he decided it was time to get up, get dressed, and wake up his kids, knowing it’d be time to eat soon.

He stopped off in the boy’s room first, knowing Lannan would be the easiest to rouse. All he had to say was tacos, and his son was up and hurrying downstairs to help in any way he could, if it meant he could eat quicker.

Layla was still fast asleep in the room she and Scarlett shared, her braid messy from sleep. Getting her up was easy enough. She didn’t require bribery or any tricks, she liked to do as she was told. He just had to tell her that mama needed help in the kitchen and she slipped off to do what she could.

Luna’s room was at the end of the hall. She shared a room with the twins, but they were upstairs and already being told to go to the kitchen, which meant she surely was sound asleep.

Azriel didn’t bother knocking before he opened the door. “Hey, dinner’s-.”

“Fuck, Luna-.”

Luna dropped her phone and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went wide in horror. “Dad!”

Azriel quickly shut the door, his hand remaining on the knob for a moment before he dropped it, and slowly walked down the hall, toward the kitchen.

He had not seen much, considering Luna had been under the blankets, but he knew enough about technology and the teenage mind to know exactly what had been going on.

Azriel was going to be sick.

He hadn’t even noticed the chatter going on in the kitchen as he entered.

Rhysand was in the middle of a sentence, even though Azriel had no idea what he had been saying, when Azriel said, “Elain, a word.”

The tone of his voice must’ve created alarm, because the room went quiet. Without noticing if Elain was following, Azriel walked into the living room.

He sat back on the couch, nausea brewing in the pit of his stomach.

Elain timidly entered a moment later. “You okay, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse,” he said, without any hesitation. “So much worse.”

He quickly and concisely explained what he’d seen, which thankfully wasn’t much, but he knew. Oh, gods, he knew.

He heard the male voice on the other side of the video call, recognized it and hated it all the same, especially the way that voice had said his daughter’s name.

“Why didn’t you knock?” Elain asked, shaking her head as she rubbed at a spot between her eyes.

“I thought she’d be asleep!” He defended, throwing his hands up.

“She’s a teenage girl, Az,” she sighed. “Regardless, you should have knocked. She could have been changing.”

“I wish she would’ve been!” His cheeks were on fire. “That would’ve been better than…that.”

Elain stood. “I’ll go get her. Why don’t you and the boys go eat on the deck? Some fresh air might help.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Do not be mad at her,” she added before leaving the room. “It’s not her fault you didn’t knock.”

“She shouldn’t be having video sex with her boyfriend while we’re on a family vacation,” he whispered, shooting to his feet.

“At least she didn’t get arrested having sex in the back of a truck. So this isn’t the worst thing that could have happened on this vacation,” Elain replied.

“No,” he said, heading towards the kitchen to get a plate of food. “It’s the worst thing that could have happened to me, period.”

Elain rolled her eyes, watching as Azriel stormed into the kitchen and out of sight.

Calmly, she walked down to the end of the hall and knocked on the last door.

She could hear Luna sniffling. “Yeah?”

“It’s mom,” Elain said, leaning against the door. “Can I come in?”

A second passed. “Yes.”

Elain opened the door to find Luna sitting up on her bed, wearing a hoodie and wrapped in a blanket, as if she couldn’t get enough clothes onto her body. Her eyes were red and puffy.

Elain sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her daughter. “Care to tell me your side of the story?”

Luna shook her head, then looked at her hands as she said, “We were just facetime-ing. It got...slightly intimate, nothing was even really going on, and then dad walked in.” Her face fell into her hands. “Too much was going on for him to walk in on, though, I’ll tell you that. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I just hung up. Lachlan probably thinks that I just lost connection.”

Elain huffed through her nose. “Look, I don’t know exactly what your father saw, he couldn’t exactly get the words out-.”

“Me, topless, showing my boyfriend my boobs,” Luna supplied, her face still in her hands. “I mean, I was mostly under the blankets, but… I think he got the point.”

Elain had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Usually, she wouldn’t find things so funny, but this was Luna. Luna, who never did anything wrong. The fact that she was just like every other teenage girl, that she was just like Elain and her sisters at sixteen, was…almost refreshing.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Your dad is having a hard time processing that his little girl isn’t so little anymore.”

“That’s an understatement,” she scoffed. “This is worse than my first period, first bra and first date combined.”

Elain couldn’t stop her chuckle again. “I think we’re probably gonna spend the rest of the evening separated. We’re gonna do our thing and the boys will do theirs. Are you hungry?”

Luna shrugged, fiddling with her phone case.

“You sure? Aunt Feyre and I made tacos.”

Looking up at her, eyes still puffy and blush still on her cheeks, Luna said, “I guess I could eat.”

“Good,” Elain said, kissing her forehead and taking her daughter’s face in her hands. “I know you’re a smart girl, and I know you care about Lachlan. But if and when things move past just showing him your boobs on FaceTime, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Luna’s cheeks were blood red again and she shook her head. “I haven’t… we haven’t… I’m still a virgin, mom.”

Elain stifled her laughter again. “I know you are, sweetie. All I’m asking is that whenever the time comes, promise me you’ll use that beautiful brain of yours and don’t let hormones get in the way. And when we get home, we can talk about birth control if you want to.”

Luna’s eyes went wide. “You’d…let me get on the pill? What about dad? He’d lose it if he found out.”

“If it means you’re being smart and safe, yes.” Elain smiled, and took her daughter’s hand. “And don’t worry about your father. I can handle him.”

“He’s awfully dramatic,” Luna mumbled. “He’s just passionate,” Elain said, correcting her. “Which means he loves as fiercely as he loses it.”

Luna chuckled, and nodded. “Let me text Lachlan about why I hung up so suddenly, then I’ll be out.”

Elain kissed Luna’s forehead before hopping off of the bed. “I’ll make you a plate of tacos.”

“Thanks, mom,” Luna said, as Elain walked out, and Elain knew it was for much more than the food.

As she walked back into the kitchen, all of the boys were out on the back porch, leaving the girls inside.

“We’re thinking about having a girls night,” Feyre said, as Elain approached. “Chick flicks, painting our nails, and mud masks?”

“I’m here for it,” Elain said. “Luna will be, too.”

Quietly, Feyre asked, “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Elain promised, and went to making Luna her plate of food. She came out a minute later, and cleared her entire plate in under five minutes.

When they were done, Legally Blonde was being set up in the living room, and Nesta was carrying out a basket of nail polish.

“Looks like the boys are going for a boat ride,” Nesta said, rolling her eyes. “Hopefully Cass isn’t driving. He can’t drive in the dark. I swear he needs glasses but he’s too stubborn to go get his eyes checked.”

“He’s in denial about getting old, Rhys was the same way,” Feyre sighed, searching through the basket for a color she liked. “But I finally convinced him to go a couple months back.

Now it’s like I have a sexy Clark Kent walking around my house in the evenings.”

“How’d you do that?” Elain asking, carrying wine glasses and a chilled bottle into the room.

The girls were all focused on the huge box of makeup Lily and Olive had brought down from the bonus room, sitting around it and begging Luna to do their makeup. Even Olive was willing to remove her thick eyeliner if it meant Luna would work her magic on her eyebrows.

“I can be very…persuasive,” she replied, filling her glass and taking a sip.

Nesta reached for the remote and turned the movie up to give their conversation a semblance of privacy, turning her attention to her sister. She whispered, “Spill.”

Feyre was blushing, clearly not expecting her sisters to jump on this particular topic. She settled back into the couch cushions and took a much larger drink of her wine. “I…let him go where no man has gone before.”

“What, like, Victoria’s Secret?” Elain asked, brow furrowed in confusion, but from the smirk on Nesta’s face, she knew exactly what Feyre meant.

“No, Lainey, not like Victoria’s Secret,” Nesta said, voice low enough that the kids couldn’t hear them over the movie. “She let him get in her ass.”

Elain blinked once and said, “Oh,” before going back to looking through the nail polish basket.

Feyre and Nesta looked at each other, before looking back at Elain.

Nesta whispered, “That was a very casual Oh.”

Shrugging, Elain glanced up at them, still looking through the basket. “That’s nothing new for us.”

Feyre’s brows shot up as Nesta leaned forward. “Okay, for the two quietest and most private in this family…you two have one hell of a sex life.”

Elain laughed, quietly, as she picked out a soft lavender nail polish. “What? We’ve always liked to keep each other…intrigued…in the bedroom.”

“And was daddy the one to introduce this…act?” Feyre asked, still dumbfounded.

Elain shrugged, falling back on the couch. “We thought we’d give it a try one day, and it was…nice.”

“Nice?” Nesta repeated.

“It’s not for everyone, but…yeah, it was nice,” Elain said. “Anyway, someone paint my right hand, please. My left is too shaky.”

Nesta did as her sister asked, even though Feyre was still staring at her, minutes later. It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when Luna excused herself to walk into the kitchen, that Nesta excused herself to follow after.

When she walked into the kitchen, Luna was staring out the back door to where the boys were tossing a football around the campfire.

“You okay, Lunabug?” Nesta asked, referring to that old nickname from her childhood that they all still used.

Luna nodded. “Yeah, just…tired, I guess. I think I may head to bed early tonight.”

“I get that, it was a big day,” Nesta smiled, and hugged her eldest niece. “Don’t worry about your dad. I’m sure Uncle Cass and Uncle Rhys have been calming him down all night.”

“I know, I know,” Luna sighed, burying her face in her aunt’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to ever look him in the eye again though? He didn’t see anything, but he knew what was happening. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“You’re almost an adult, sweet girl,” Nesta said, tipping her chin back so she kept her head high. “Sooner or later, your dad is going to have to accept that.”

Luna nodded and hugged her aunt again. Nesta hugged her tighter and said, “How do you think I feel right now? My adult son got caught having sex in public yesterday.” She felt Luna laugh and pulled back to rest her hand against her cheek. “It could be worse. I’m sure you’re embarrassed, but this will pass, okay? Your dad is overbearing because he loves you.”

Luna’s smile was small, but Nesta could tell it was genuine. “I know. Thank you, Aunt Nes.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With a goodnight, Luna was off to the room, Layla and Scarlett only a few minutes behind her. The twins, stubborn as always, said they weren’t tired, yet were asleep on the floor within ten minutes.

“Another drink, ladies?” Feyre asked, bringing out a new wine glass as she fell on the couch between her sisters.

“Please,” Elain begged, holding out her glass.

Nesta didn’t protest either as the three sisters finished the movie, drinking the night away.

*

“Fuck, the twins are only two years younger.”

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were lying in the grass, a beer in their hands, staring up at the stars as their boys swam in the water, the firelight the only thing allowing them any guidance.

“I just… I knew this day was coming,” Azriel said, his words slightly slurred. “I just… I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Can we ever be ready for it?” Cassian asked. “Boys…they’re easy. But, girls…” Cassian shook his head. “We’re never going to be ready for anything they put us through.”

“I want to find this kid… And-.”

“And what?” Rhysand asked, laughing as he cut off Azriel. “You act like you weren’t a teenager once.”

“I was,” Azriel confessed, then sighed. “But…that was me…this is…my daughter.”

“Have you met his parents yet?” Cassian asked, sitting up and bracing his elbows on his knees. “Once we met Marion’s parents, we felt way better. Mostly because we know Lorcan Salvaterre has the capability to kick Thorn’s ass, and Thorn does, too. But it also showed us Marion is a good girl. She comes from a good family, who loves and cares for her just as much as we do Thorn.”

“We’ve met his mom,” Azriel admitted, staring at stars still. “Or Lainey has, I haven’t. But she said she was sweet. Granted, she says Lachlan is sweet, too. She thinks everyone is sweet, cause she’s sweet.”

“You guys should try to all go to dinner when we get back to Velaris,” Cass suggested, finishing his beer. He tossed his empty can into the pile by the fire. “Meet his parents, get a vibe for them, shake the kid’s hand hard enough to leave an impression. I’m sure they love Luna, just like we love Marion.”

“Them loving Luna isn’t the point,” Azriel began, quietly. “Everyone loves Luna. The problem is…is that I was a teenage boy once, and I know exactly what this kid wants.”

“You also met Elain when you were a teenager,” Rhysand pointed out. “And, you started dating when you were teenagers. You’re telling me that the only reason you wanted to be with Elain was for sex?”

Azriel paused. Then answered, shortly, “No.”

“Then maybe this kid wants more than that, too,” Cassian said.

“But he wants the other thing, too,” Azriel protested, then groaned, flipping over until his face was buried in the grass.

“You can’t make her a nun,” Cassian said, Rhysand grinning on Azriel’s other side. “You can’t keep it from happening. Teach her to be safe, and she’ll be fine.”

Azriel’s voice was muffled by the ground. “Why are you being the reasonable one right now?”

“Because I’ve also been a teenage boy who loved a girl. Because I currently have a teenage boy who loves a girl, even if he makes stupid decisions with her sometimes,” he replied. “But I have to let him make those decisions on his own so he can learn. Luna is smart, Az. She’ll make good choices, you just have to let her make them.”

He grumbled something into the grass that his brothers couldn’t hear and Rhysand ruffled the back of his hair before standing.

“It’s getting late, the kids need to get to bed.”

They called the boys out of the water, handing out towels and dousing the fire as they headed up towards the house.

“Bennett and I can carry the beers out to the garage,” Thorn said, and Cassian’s eyes immediately met Rhysand’s amused state.

“Good try,” he chuckled.

Rhys added, “You can leave them on the kitchen counter.”

The boys mumbled something under their breath, but did as they were told and they all went off to get changed and get in bed.

They found their wives on the couch, wine drunk and giggly, with the twins asleep on the floor.

“Everyone else in bed?” Cassian asked, sitting on the arm of the couch by Nesta. She laid her head against his thigh and nodded.

Feyre inclined her head to her daughters on the floor in front of them. “These two insisted they weren’t tired.”

Rhysand snorted. “I see that.”

Azriel fell onto the couch by Elain while Rhys gently woke the twins and sent them to bed.

Elain looked up at him and chuckled, quietly, as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not,” he lied.

“Your eyes are glazed,” she whispered, “and I could barely make sense of the three words that just came out of your mouth.”

“He only had…” Cassian cocked his head to the side, counting on his fingers. “Yeah, I lost count. How many beers you have there, Az?”

Azriel mumbled something incomprehensible and sighed.

Cassian chuckled as he stood, and gathered Nesta in his arms before walking down the hall, toward their bedroom.

Feyre followed, carrying the empty wine glasses into the kitchen.

Elain shook her head as Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut, thanks to her fingertips gently rubbing at his head. A moment later, she thought he may have fallen asleep, but then he said, “I’m scared for her.”

Elain’s fingers slowed, but she nodded. “Luna’s smart-.”

“But teenage boys aren’t,” Azriel said, opening his eyes to meet his wife’s. “I know that Luna’s smart. And everyone can keep telling me how smart she is, but it doesn’t make me trust any guy that she’ll ever be with any more. Men are idiots. And the last thing I want is for my baby to be heartbroken, crying over some dick that didn’t deserve her in the first place.” Elain’s eyes softened, but Azriel went on, “And the fact that they’re getting more….intimate, only means that Luna’s starting to trust him and like him more. And that scares me.”

“I know,” Elain said, quietly, crawling onto his lap and straddling his waist. Her forehead fell against his as his eyes fell shut, once again. “She spent the entire night thinking she’d disappointed you.”

“She didn’t disappoint me,” Azriel said, quietly, and Elain knew that he meant it. And as she pulled back, she recognized the look that was creeping into his hazel eyes: guilt.

“She’s probably still awake if you want to go talk to her,” Elain said.

Azriel hesitated, then nodded. After Elain crawled off of him, he waited a moment before pushing himself up and began to amble his way down the hall, until he reached the last door on the left.

This time, he knocked.

He waited, and when there was no response, he knocked again, only to find no response. He cracked open the door and peeked inside. The lights were off, and Luna was sound asleep, the hood of her hoodie pulled over her dark hair, and the fan across the room on high, pointed right at her.

He laughed quietly at the sight.

Yeah, she was growing up, but sound asleep, she looked like she always had: mouth hanging open, one hand tossed behind her head. She used to fall asleep on him like that, and he’d have to carry her to bed and tuck her in. That’s how she would always be to him: that little girl whose only man in her life was her daddy.

Except that’s not how it was, not anymore.

Azriel walked to her bedside and leaned down to kiss her forehead before pulling her blanket up higher around her. “Night, Lunabug.”

As he headed back for her door, he heard, “Dad?”

He spun around, that alcohol catching up with him and nearly knocking himself over, thanks to the quick motion. He grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. “I…knocked this time.”

Luna rolled over and looked at him. Thanks to the light in the hallway streaming in, he could see the hurt in her light brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged as he made his way back into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. He ran a hand through his hair before saying, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry. You’re growing up, and that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but I’m still figuring out how to raise a young woman and not a little girl.”

Luna nodded, but said nothing.

“It’s hard, though,” he began, honestly. “When I was seventeen, Luna, I had no idea how to treat girls. I went on a lot of dates, and…did a lot of things on those dates…and, if I’m being honest with you, not a lot of those things meant anything to me other than what I got out of them at that moment.” He looked at Luna. “It wasn’t until I started dating your mom that I got some sense knocked into me.”

She chuckled at that.

“But, I also know that Lachlan is not me,” Azriel continued. “I also know that I don’t know a lot about him. So, maybe next week we can have him and his parents over for dinner, and I can start to get to know him, if he means that much to you.”

He didn’t need any light in the room to see the tears lining her eyes. “I would like that.”

“Then you talk to him, I’ll talk to mom, and we’ll make it happen, okay?” She nodded, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Lunabug. I love you.”

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he was glad for what little balance he still had, so he didn’t topple over on her. “I love you, too, daddy.”

Wrapping an arm around her, he held her close, not letting her go until he felt her arms getting heavier. Until he carefully settled her back into the bed, tucking the covers around her, but not too tight, because she hated feeling constricted, and pushed the hoodie back just a bit to see her sleeping face.

She looked so much like her mother while she was asleep.

Quietly, carefully, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

He could tell the television and lights had been shut off in the living room, so he aimed for their bedroom instead, and found Elain sleepily beneath the covers herself. He stripped off his shirt and shorts, wearing just a pair of boxer-briefs and slid into bed beside her, aware that he probably smelled like a bar. Elain didn’t complain though, she just laid her head on his chest and slung an arm and leg over his body.

“How’d it go?” She asked into the darkness.

“Good. She was asleep, and I accidentally woke her up, but it’s okay. We needed to talk,” he admitted. He paused for a second before asking,

“Do you have Lachlan’s parents numbers?”

Lifting her head, Elain looked at him in the moonlight. “We are not talking to them about this at midnight, Azriel.”

“No, no,” he chuckled, rubbing a calming hand up and down her arm. “I was thinking it might be nice to have them over for dinner one night next week, all of them. Lachlan, Aelin and Rowan.”

Elain lifted a brow. “You’re serious.”

Azriel blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Because you’re drunk and you just spent the entire day throwing a hissy fit,” Elain mumbled, nuzzling into his neck.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Damn, you’re mean.”

Elain huffed then propped herself up on an elbow. “I’m serious. If they come over, you need to be nice.”

Azriel scoffed, his hand sliding down her back then up her shirt. “I’m always nice.”

“No mean-mugging the kid,” Elain went on. “You will ask him about his likes and dislikes, and you will not scare him shitless.”

Azriel sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“And you will offer Rowan some of your good whiskey,” Elain said.

Azriel looked pointedly at his wife. “There’s no need to get carried away.”

Elain grinned as she leaned down and pressed her mouth softly against his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

He was sound asleep before Elain could even lay back down, and snuggle up to him beneath the covers.

He was over-dramatic, and surely a pain in her ass, but by the gods, she loved that man. He had given her three beautiful, perfect children, and although, sixteen years after their first was born, they were still figuring this whole parenting ordeal out….Azriel was doing a pretty damn good job.

Which only made her love him even more.