#Gavriel tog

[acourtofquestions]

Lorcan: odds are 500 to 8

Aelin: *pops knuckles* “I got dis” *takes off running towards the demon- army*

Lysandra: *dives into monster swamp*

Elide: did you not hear the part about the odds being FIVE HUNDRED AGAINST US?!?

Aedion: *already half way up a mountain — shrugs*

Dorian: … she said she got dis… so… we good.

Gavriel: I’m still trying to heal 24 years of abandonment issues… this feels like the safe bet to join in…

Manon: *picking at iron nails* I mean I was gonna go kill something anyway

Rowan: I’m following her to the end of the earth so this felt about right.

[moonlitstoriess]

Oaths and Ashes-Lorcan x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Bound by oaths to Maeve and haunted by the bond he fears, Lorcan clings to loyalty as a shield against his own heart. But when a mission goes awry, forcing him to choose between duty and his mate, the cracks in his resolve begin to show. In the shadows of betrayal and pain, will love rise from the ashes?

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, manipulation, physical injury, toxic loyalty, and themes of betrayal. Angst with no fluff and an uncertain end.

A/n: Got this random idea for a Lorcan fanfic and thought why not? Anyway you have been warned, enjoy 😘

See masterlist

The outpost was eerily quiet, save for the distant howl of the wind outside. The cold stone walls did little to keep the chill at bay, and the fire in the hearth burned low, its feeble warmth barely reaching the center of the room. She stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching the snow swirl and dance in the night.

Lorcan sat across the room, sharpening one of his blades with slow, deliberate movements. The metallic scrape echoed in the silence, grating and purposeful, as if he was daring her to speak first. He didn��t look at her.

“Another mission done,” she said, her voice low, breaking the stillness.

“Hm.” The sound was dismissive, his focus never wavering from the blade in his hands.

She turned, leaning against the windowsill, her arms dropping to her sides. “Is that all you have to say?”

His dark eyes flicked up briefly before returning to his task. “What else is there to say? We survived. That’s enough.”

The coldness in his tone cut deeper than she’d expected, and her jaw tightened. “You don’t think it’s worth talking about? The fact that it was another trap? That Maeve sent us into another gods-damned death mission?”

“You’re alive,” he said flatly. “That’s what matters.”

“Barely,” she snapped, taking a step toward him. “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it? As long as we’re breathing, it’s fine. Just another day serving Maeve like the obedient dogs we are.”

His hand stilled, the blade catching the light as he set it down. When he looked up at her, his gaze was cold, calculating. “If you’re not cut out for this, maybe you shouldn’t have sworn the oath.”

The words landed like a blow, and she staggered back a step, her chest tightening. “You think I want this? You think I wanted to swear myself to her?”

“Did someone force you?” he asked, his voice sharp, mocking. “No? Then don’t complain about the choices you made.”

Her breath hitched, and she turned away, unable to look at him. The sting of his words mixed with the weight of her anger and exhaustion, threatening to choke her.

“I should’ve known,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

He stood abruptly, the scrape of the chair against the floor loud in the silence. “Don’t presume to know what I care about,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Then tell me,” she said, whirling to face him, her eyes blazing. “Tell me why you’re so gods-damned loyal to her. Why you follow her orders without question, even when you know it’s killing us. What is it, Lorcan? What keeps you chained to her like a dog?”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she shot back, stepping closer, her voice shaking with anger and something rawer. “Because I’m standing here, breaking myself for this—for you—and you won’t even look at me.”

He flinched at the accusation, but the mask of indifference remained firmly in place. “Don’t make this about me,” he said coldly. “You’re not here for me. You’re here because you swore the same oath I did.”

“And that’s all I am to you? Another oath? Another pawn in Maeve’s games?”

His silence was answer enough.

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with unspoken words and frayed emotions. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to speak even as her heart ached. “You can’t keep doing this, Lorcan. Pushing me away, shutting me out. It’s not going to make the bond disappear.”

His expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line. “The bond doesn’t matter,” he said harshly. “It doesn’t mean anything. Not to me.”

The words were a dagger to her chest, and she staggered back as if he’d physically struck her.

He saw the hurt flash across her face and immediately hated himself for it, but he didn’t take the words back. He couldn’t. Not when the truth was so much harder to face.

“Fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then neither do I.”

Before he could respond, she turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Lorcan stood there, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, the weight of his words crashing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache spreading through his chest.

For the first time in centuries, he felt something dangerously close to regret.

But Lorcan was too stubborn to let go of his pride. She would understand at some point. That he is not meant to have a mate.

The bond, while recently discovered by the both of them, lay unacknowledged by either. Though he could see how much the female whom he has known for so long is trying to create something out of this.

But it would be useless. Lorcan knew it. He was not meant to have a mate. How could one ever have a mate after walking a lonely road for so long? Too much blood, too many sins on his hands.

Besides, he was too much of a monster to even know anything outside of pain, bloodshed, loss and anger. His shadows, his demons constantly consumed him and that was enough to draw him away from everyone. Including her.

—————

Y/n had loved him for as long as she could remember. Well, maybe not from the very start because the way they met wasn’t quite under the best conditions.

She was a rebel, part of a secret organization that went against those in power. She still remembers how one hundred and fifty years ago, she was captured by The Cadre and brought to Doranelle.

There, under Maeve’s orders she was questioned. Fenrys and Gavriel constantly tried going the diplomatic way and ease her into talking while Lorcan and Rowan would just vote to have her tortured.

Y/n smiled at the memory.

Though they all started at the wrong foot, eventually she grew closer with the males, even going as far as to prove her usefulness to Maeve and swearing a blood oath, a choice she has come to very much regret.

The boys see her as a part of them now. A younger sister and a very capable fighter with a unique power.

But Lorcan…..he has always been this way and not just towards her but to the others too. It just hurt a little more because she unfortunately grew to deeply care for him.

That is why, on one random day when both her and Lorcan found out about their bond was also the moment all her dreams with him came crashing down.

He said very hurtful things that day, how he would never accept it. How he will never even acknowledge it and neither should she.

Y/n tried, she really tried to get through to him but alas, everyone has a breaking point. And yesterday was the final straw for her.

How much longer is that prick going to choose Maeve over his mate? His fucking mate!!

How much longer is he going to follow every order of that poisonous queen and defend her in every argument?

It hurt….and she was tired. Tired of trying to get through to him. She has been doing that from the moment they met and now it was time to stop.

Y/n sighed as she cleared her mind, put on her stoic mask, straightened her shoulders and entered the sitting room of Doranelle’s Grand Stone Palace, designed specifically to fit the taste of her bitchy majesty, Queen Maeve.

Upon entrance however, she noticed that the queen is yet to arrive. Rowan, Fenrys and Gavriel were all scattered around the room, with the silver haired warrior standing next to the gigantic windows and watching the view over Doranelle and the latter two sitting on opposite armchairs.

Lorcan was nowhere to be seen but, she would not concern herself with the thoughts of him.

"Y/n! Finally you are here." Gavriel's voice brought her back as she looked to see all three of them looked straight at her.

Y/n offered a tight smile to Gavriel as she moved further into the room. Fenrys shot her a grin, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Let me guess, Lorcan was brooding too much, and you needed a break?”

Y/n snorted, pulling off her gloves and tossing them onto a side table. “More like I was brooding, and he needed a break.”

Rowan turned from the window, his piercing gaze scanning her face. His sharp instincts probably caught the flicker of tension in her shoulders, but he said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head. “How was the mission?”

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Standard Maeve nonsense. Get in, retrieve the target, fight off a few surprises along the way. Nothing we haven’t done a hundred times before.”

“Yet you look like you’ve been through hell,” Fenrys said, leaning forward in his chair. “What happened out there?”

Y/n hesitated, feeling their eyes on her. She knew they cared, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the emotional storm that had brewed between her and Lorcan. “The usual,” she said finally. “Maeve’s intelligence wasn’t exactly accurate. There was an ambush.”

Gavriel frowned. “An ambush? Were you injured?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said quickly. “We managed.”

“You managed?” Fenrys repeated, a skeptical brow arching. “Sounds like there’s more to that story.”

“There isn’t,” Y/n said firmly, brushing past him and sinking into one of the chairs. “It’s over now. That’s all that matters.”

The males exchanged glances, their concern evident, but they didn’t press further. Instead, Fenrys leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Well, next time, try not to steal all the excitement. We’ve been stuck here dealing with Maeve’s mood swings. Honestly, I’d take an ambush over her any day.”

Y/n allowed herself a small chuckle. “Careful, Fenrys. She might hear you.”

“Let her,” Fenrys said with a smirk. “I live to irritate her.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You live to irritate everyone.”

“True,” Fenrys admitted, grinning. “But I do it so well.”

The light banter was a welcome distraction, and Y/n felt some of the tension in her chest ease. For a moment, it was almost enough to forget the weight of the bond, the mission, and Lorcan’s cold words. Almost.

The grand double doors swung open with a creak, and the room fell silent as Maeve swept in, her dark hair gleaming and her presence commanding as ever. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on Y/n before flicking to the others.

“Good,” Maeve said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. “You’re all here.”

Y/n straightened in her seat, instinctively falling into the poised composure Maeve demanded. But then her heart sank as another figure stepped into the room behind the queen.

Lorcan.

His towering presence was as dark and imposing as ever, but it was the way he stood at Maeve’s side, slightly behind her like a shadow, that made Y/n’s stomach churn. He looked as though he belonged there, loyal and unyielding, his gaze sweeping over the room without a flicker of acknowledgment in her direction.

Fenrys stiffened, his usual easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. Rowan’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. Gavriel was the only one who spoke, his voice calm but tense. “Maeve. Lorcan. What’s the occasion?”

Maeve’s smile was sharp, predatory. “A new directive,” she said, her gaze landing on Y/n. “But first, I’d like to hear about your little adventure.”

Y/n clenched her fists, forcing herself to meet Maeve’s piercing gaze. “The mission was completed successfully,” she said evenly. “We retrieved the artifact and neutralized the threats.”

Maeve’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes glittered with something that made Y/n’s skin crawl. “Good. I expected no less.”

Lorcan said nothing, his face carved from stone, but his silence was louder than any words. It echoed in the room, in her chest, as Maeve began to speak of their next orders, her voice a cold melody weaving a new web of commands. Y/n barely heard her, her focus splintered by the man standing silently by the queen’s side, the mate who had once again chosen duty over her.

“And you,” Maeve said, her voice honeyed and venomous all at once. “I have a special task for you.”

Y/n’s spine straightened, her expression unreadable, her mask firmly in place. “Of course, my queen.”

Maeve tilted her head, a mockery of affection flickering in her eyes. “I’ve decided to send you on a mission of utmost importance. Alone.”

The room tensed. Fenrys shifted in his seat, his golden eyes flicking to Y/n with concern. Gavriel’s brows furrowed, his mouth opening as if to protest, but one glance from Maeve silenced him. Even Rowan, stoic as ever, allowed his jaw to tighten, his fingers flexing where they rested at his side.

She was never sent on a mission alone. It was always with one of the members because 1. Maeve, no matter how much she pretended, never trusted y/n and 2. The males would always manage to protest against her going alone, though it is not something she hasn't done before.

Y/n didn’t flinch. She didn’t allow even the faintest crack in her calm facade. “What would you have me do?”

Maeve’s smile widened, pleased with her composure. “There is a rebel camp in the northern cliffs. They’ve been meddling in my affairs, intercepting important supplies. I want you to dismantle them—destroy their operation entirely.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Rowan finally broke it, his voice carefully measured. “The northern cliffs are treacherous, especially this time of year.”

“Which is precisely why I’m entrusting this to her,” Maeve said smoothly, her gaze never leaving y/n. “She has proven herself capable time and time again. Haven’t you?”

Y/n inclined her head. “I’ll see it done.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Lorcan’s face, but he stayed silent, his broad shoulders stiff. Fenrys leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “With all due respect, this is suicide. Send at least one of us with her.”

Maeve’s expression hardened, her voice cutting like a blade. “Did I ask for your opinion, Fenrys?”

He clenched his jaw, leaning back in his chair but shooting y/n a glance filled with unspoken worry. Gavriel tried next, his tone more diplomatic. “She is capable, yes, but even the most skilled warriors can be overwhelmed. Perhaps a small team would ensure success.”

Maeve’s gaze snapped to him, her smile razor-sharp. “Are you questioning my decision, lion?”

“No, my queen,” Gavriel said softly, bowing his head.

Maeve turned back to y/n, her tone almost sweet again. “I trust you will not fail me.”

“I won’t,” y/n said evenly, ignoring the tension radiating from every male in the room.

“Good,” Maeve said, stepping closer, her presence suffocating. “You leave at dawn.”

Without another word, Maeve swept out of the room, her dark gown trailing behind her like the shadow of death itself. And Lorcan behind her.

As the door closed, the room erupted.

But even through all the worries, all the scoldings, all the words said by the three males, her brothers, y/n's mind was only filled with the sense of betrayal.

He didn't even protest. Didn't even stand against Maeve. Didn't even offer to join y/n. His mate.

This has to be some cruel joke fate is playing on her.

----------

Y/n was alone, methodically packing her gear. Her hands worked quickly, though her mind was a maelstrom. She refused to dwell on the danger of the mission, on the implications of Maeve sending her alone. This was just another test, another way to prove she could survive whatever hell was thrown her way.

A knock sounded at her door. She didn’t bother turning, knowing who it was. “What do you want, Lorcan?”

The door opened without her invitation, and he stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him. He didn’t speak at first, his dark eyes scanning her as if trying to decipher her thoughts. Finally, he said, “You shouldn’t go.”

She didn’t stop packing. “Not your decision to make.”

“It’s reckless,” he snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Maeve’s playing games, and you’re letting her.”

Y/n spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “Letting her? Did you not hear me back there? She gave me an order, Lorcan. What would you have me do, defy her?”

His silence was damning.

“Exactly,” she said bitterly, turning back to her pack. “You’d rather I die proving myself than risk questioning her.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening, but she rounded on him.

“Fair?” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. “What part of this is fair, Lorcan? The bond? This gods-damned oath? Maeve holding our lives in her hands? I don’t see you fighting for anything better.”

“I’m not the one running into death for her approval,” he shot back, his tone colder now, defensive.

“No,” she said quietly, the words cutting deeper because they were true. “You’re just the one standing by while she destroys us.”

He flinched as if struck, but she didn’t stop. “You chose her again, Lorcan. You always choose her.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “She is my queen.”

“And I’m your mate!” she yelled, the words tumbling out before she could stop them, raw and exposed. “Or does that mean nothing to you?”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His dark eyes burned with emotion, but when he finally spoke, his voice was icy. “It doesn’t change anything. And we are not mates."

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her like a physical blow. “You really are a coward, Lorcan.”

Before he could respond, she shoved past him, her pack slung over her shoulder, and walked out the door. She didn’t look back, even when she thought she heard him whisper her name.

When she reached the stables, she mounted her horse and rode into the night, the frigid wind biting at her skin. But the cold was nothing compared to the ache in her chest, the one that reminded her she was truly, irrevocably alone.

The northern cliffs were as treacherous as y/n had anticipated. The jagged terrain, biting winds, and freezing temperatures made every step a trial. Her days were spent navigating narrow paths carved into the mountainside, her sharp eyes scanning for signs of movement. At night, she set up meager camps, always alert for threats, her weapons and magic ready for use. Sleep came in fleeting moments, her instincts honed to the dangers lurking in the shadows.

It had been five days since she left the fortress. Five days of cold, isolation, and silence. She told herself that she didn’t mind the solitude—it was better than the suffocating weight of Lorcan’s words or the betrayal she’d felt when Maeve’s command echoed through the room.

Still, the mission felt… off. She’d found no sign of the rebel camp Maeve had described. The cliffside paths, though rugged, showed no indication of regular travel, and the forests below were eerily still. It was as if the cliffs themselves were abandoned, yet Maeve had insisted that rebels were causing disruption in the area.

“She sent me here for a reason,” y/n thought bitterly, though she wasn’t sure if it was to succeed or fail.

On the sixth day, y/n stumbled upon a narrow gorge that seemed to fit the description of a potential rebel hideout. The entrance was obscured by thick overgrowth, and the cliffs loomed high above, casting long shadows over the path. She hesitated, her instincts prickling. This was the first sign of anything remotely suspicious since she’d arrived.

Cautiously, she advanced, her sword unsheathed as her senses sharpened instinctively. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. Blood.

She moved swiftly, keeping to the edges of the path. It led to a clearing—a small encampment, or what was left of one. The ground was littered with debris, tents torn apart, supplies scattered as if a storm had swept through. But it wasn’t a storm. The claw marks gouged into the rock told her that something—or someone—had done this.

Kneeling, she examined a broken weapon—a sword, its blade snapped in half. Blood stained the hilt, fresh enough that it hadn’t dried entirely. Her pulse quickened. She was being watched.

The sound of a snapping twig behind her made her whirl, sword raised, ready to strike—but nothing was there.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into her from the shadows. She forced herself to stay calm, to think. If this was a rebel camp, they wouldn’t leave it undefended. If they were gone, where had they gone? And why did the destruction look staged?

Her heart sank as realization dawned. This wasn’t a rebel camp. This was a trap.

The first arrow whistled past her ear, embedding itself into the rock behind her. She ducked instinctively, rolling into a crouch as more arrows followed, peppering the ground where she’d stood. Her claws gleamed in the dim light as she shot forward, seeking cover behind a crumbled tent.

Voices echoed through the gorge—low, guttural commands that sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t see them yet, but they were closing in.

Y/n moved quickly, her breaths steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She darted from cover to cover, her sword slicing through any obstacle in her way. The first attacker emerged—a tall man clad in dark leathers, his face obscured by a hood. He lunged at her with a blade, but she sidestepped, her dark magic aimed right at his chest. He fell with a gurgled cry.

Another came from the right, and she barely dodged the strike aimed at her side. She spun, driving her small but sharp knife into his arm and kicking him backward. But for every one she took down, two more appeared.

Soon, she was surrounded.

Y/n fought like the rebel she was, every movement precise and lethal. She used the terrain to her advantage, leaping onto rocks and darting through narrow paths. 

But there were too many.

An arrow grazed her leg, the sharp pain momentarily throwing her off balance. A sword nicked her arm, blood staining her sleeve. Her breaths came heavier now, her strength waning.

One of the attackers—a burly man with a scar down his face—stepped forward, a cruel grin spreading across his features. “The Queen sends her regards,” he sneered, raising his blade.

Y/n’s heart sank. Maeve had sent her here to die.

The realization stole the last of her resolve. She faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

The scarred man’s fist connected with her stomach, and she doubled over, the air knocked from her lungs. Before she could recover, another blow landed against her temple, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Her vision blurred, and the world tilted as she tried to push herself up. Hands grabbed her, wrenching her arms behind her back. She struggled, but she was too weak, too drained.

A final strike—a boot slamming into her ribs—left her gasping for air. The edges of her vision darkened, her body refusing to obey her commands.

As she was dragged to her knees, she heard the scarred man chuckle. “Tie her up. The Queen wants her alive—at least for now.”

Y/n’s head lolled to the side, her strength gone. The world around her faded into darkness, the sounds of her captors’ laughter echoing in her ears.

Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was bitter and raw.

She sent me here to die, and I have no one left to fight for.

---------

The first week of her absence, Lorcan told himself he was being irrational. She was skilled, ruthless even, and capable of handling herself. Maeve had sent her on this mission for a reason, and despite his misgivings, he trusted y/n to see it through. He buried his worry beneath grueling training sessions and the cold edge of duty, convincing himself that she would return victorious, her sharp wit ready to cut him down the moment he dared to question her ability.

By the second week, unease began to fester. There had been no word from her—no missives sent, no whispers of success or failure. Maeve brushed off his inquiries with a dismissive wave, her cold smile tightening when he pressed. “She’s completing her task, Lorcan. You wouldn’t dare doubt her, would you?”

The third week unraveled him. He had spent every waking moment pacing the grounds, his chest constricting with an unbearable weight. Nightmares plagued him when he did manage to sleep, visions of her broken body haunting his mind. He snapped at everyone—Gavriel, Fenrys, even Rowan—driving wedges into bonds already frayed by his aloofness.

Now, a full month had passed, and there was no room left for denial.

“She’s dead,” Fenrys growled, pacing the chamber like a caged wolf. “Or worse.” His golden eyes were wild, his usually jovial demeanor replaced with simmering fury. “We all know Maeve doesn’t send anyone on a mission like this without an ulterior motive.”

Gavriel sat at the table, his head bowed, his fists clenched. “We don’t know that,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed the hope he was struggling to hold onto.

Rowan leaned against the far wall, his sharp features carved with tension. “Have you noticed Maeve hasn’t mentioned her once since she left? Not a word about the mission or her progress. That’s deliberate.”

Lorcan stood apart from them, his back to the room, staring out the window at the moonlit forest. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, and his nails had bitten into his palms, drawing blood.

“She’s alive,” he said at last, his voice low and trembling with suppressed rage.

Fenrys stopped pacing, glaring at him. “You don’t know that. You have no idea what she’s endured out there—alone—while you stood by and let her go.”

The accusation struck like a blade, and Lorcan whirled around, his black eyes blazing. “You think I don’t know that?” he snarled. “You think I don’t feel it every second of every gods-damned day?”

The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension.

“What are you saying?” Gavriel asked, his voice cautious.

Lorcan’s hands trembled as he raked them through his hair, his composure shattering. “She’s my mate,” he admitted, the words spilling out like poison. “She’s my mate, and I let her go. I chose Maeve over her because I was too much of a coward to—” His voice broke, and he turned away, his shoulders heaving.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“You’re telling us this now?” Rowan’s voice was cold, laced with anger. “After she’s been missing for a month?”

“I thought she’d come back,” Lorcan said hoarsely. “I thought she’d be fine. She’s strong. She’s—” His voice cracked, and he slammed a fist against the wall. “I failed her. I failed her because I didn’t want to admit what she meant to me.”

Fenrys sneered, his rage barely contained. “And now she’s out there, suffering gods know what, because of you.”

Despite their anger, the Cadre couldn’t abandon her. She was one of their own—or at least, she had been before Maeve’s manipulations twisted their loyalties.

Rowan took charge, his strategic mind cutting through the chaos. “We’ll have to do this without Maeve finding out. If she even suspects we’re undermining her, she’ll punish us all.”

“And y/n,” Gavriel added grimly.

Lorcan barely heard them, his mind consumed with images of her—alone, wounded, dying. He couldn’t let himself think she might already be dead. If she was gone, the bond would have snapped, wouldn’t it? But it hadn’t. It was still there, faint but unbroken, like a fragile thread connecting him to her.

“We’ll start at the cliffs,” Rowan continued. “That’s where she was sent. If Maeve wanted her gone, she wouldn’t make it easy to find her body—or what’s left of it.”

Fenrys shot Lorcan a glare. “You’d better hope she’s alive, or I’ll make you wish you’d died with her.”

The journey to the cliffs was brutal, the terrain unforgiving. They traveled under the cover of night, avoiding Maeve’s spies and using every ounce of their combined skill to remain undetected.

They did not rest. Not even once. And even if they did, Lorcan knew that he would leave his brothers behind to find her. He would not rest until he found her. Hopefully, alive because if not....

Lorcan did not want to think about that and the hell he would raise if that were the case.

When they reached the cliffs, the sight that greeted them confirmed their worst fears. Blood stained the ground, long since dried, and the remnants of a camp lay scattered, eerily quiet.

“She was here,” Gavriel said, his voice tight with anguish.

Lorcan knelt, his fingers brushing the bloodied earth. It felt wrong—cold and empty, as if the life had been drained from the place. His chest tightened, and the bond tugged at him, faint but insistent.

“She’s close,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “She’s still alive.”

The Cadre exchanged wary glances, but they followed him deeper into the gorge, their weapons drawn.

They found her at dawn.

She was chained to a rock in a dark cavern, her body battered and broken. Her clothes were torn, her skin marred with bruises and cuts, and her breathing was shallow. Her once-bright eyes were closed, her face pale and gaunt.

Lorcan froze, his heart shattering at the sight.

“She’s alive,” Fenrys said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lorcan didn’t wait. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he broke the chains binding her. “y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, wildling, wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze met his. There was no recognition in her eyes, only pain and exhaustion.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As he cradled her broken body in his arms, the weight of his guilt crashed down on him. He had failed her in every way possible, but he wouldn’t fail her again.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Rowan said, his voice tight. “Before Maeve realizes what we’ve done.”

Lorcan nodded, his jaw set with determination. He would burn the world for her, tear it apart piece by piece if he had to.

And when Maeve found out, he would be ready.

Lorcan cradled y/n against his chest as they made their way out of the cavern, her body limp and fragile in his arms. Her shallow breathing was the only reassurance he had that she was still alive. His every instinct screamed at him to run, to put as much distance as possible between them and this gods-forsaken place, but he knew better. They weren’t safe yet.

The bond tugged at him, a faint but insistent reminder of her fragility. It was his lifeline now, urging him forward through the oppressive darkness of the cliffs.

Rowan took point, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows ahead. Gavriel brought up the rear, his sword drawn and his senses on high alert. Fenrys prowled beside Lorcan, his golden eyes flashing with barely-contained fury.

“She’s too quiet,” Fenrys muttered, his voice low and tense. “We need to move faster.”

“She’s breathing,” Lorcan snapped, though his voice wavered. “That’s all that matters right now.”

The moment they stepped out of the cavern into the pale light of dawn, the attack came.

A hail of arrows rained down from the cliffs above, forcing them to scatter. Lorcan twisted his body, shielding y/n with his own as he dove behind a jagged boulder.

“Move!” Rowan barked, his wind magic deflecting the arrows with a gust that sent them clattering harmlessly to the ground.

The enemy poured down the rocky slopes—Maeve’s minions, cloaked in shadow and armed to the teeth. Their feral grins gleamed in the dim light, their eyes alight with cruel intent.

“They know we have her!” Fenrys shouted, drawing his twin blades.

Gavriel let out a low growl, his lion-like strength cutting through the first wave of attackers. “We’ll have to fight our way out!”

Lorcan’s grip on y/n tightened as he pressed his back against the boulder, his mind racing. He couldn’t fight—not with her in his arms—but he also couldn’t let her go.

Rowan appeared at his side, his ice-blue eyes blazing. “Can you hold them off while I take her?”

“No,” Lorcan snapped. The thought of letting her out of his grasp was unbearable. “You clear the path. I’ll carry her.”

Rowan hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Stay close.”

Chaos erupted as the cadre launched themselves into the fray. Rowan’s wind and ice magic tore through the ranks of their attackers, sending bodies flying into the jagged rocks. Fenrys moved like a shadow, his blades flashing as he cut down anyone who got too close. Gavriel fought with brutal precision, his strikes swift and lethal.

But their enemies kept coming, waves of them spilling out of the cliffs like a swarm.

Lorcan’s every step was a battle. He ducked and weaved through the melee, his muscles burning from the effort of carrying y/n’s dead weight while avoiding strikes. His sword remained sheathed—his focus was entirely on her.

“Lorcan, behind you!” Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan twisted just in time to see a dagger aimed at his back. He snarled, releasing a pulse of his power that sent the attacker sprawling. The effort cost him, though—his legs trembled as he stumbled forward, the weight of y/n and his exhaustion dragging him down.

A group of Maeve’s soldiers broke through Rowan’s defenses, their eyes locked on Lorcan and y/n.

“Over my dead body,” Lorcan growled, shifting her weight slightly as he braced himself for the charge.

But before they could reach him, a silver blur streaked past—Fenrys. He leapt into the fray, his movements a deadly dance as he tore through the soldiers with savage efficiency.

“You’re slowing us down,” Fenrys barked as he dispatched the last of them.

“Shut up and fight,” Lorcan snarled back.

Rowan’s sharp whistle cut through the chaos. “Now! Move!”

The cadre regrouped, their enemies momentarily scattered. Rowan’s magic formed a protective barrier of ice and wind, giving them a few precious seconds to retreat.

“We’re not going to hold them off forever,” Gavriel warned as they sprinted toward the treeline.

“We just need to make it far enough to lose them,” Rowan said, though his tone was grim.

Lorcan’s chest burned with every breath, but he didn’t stop. Y/n’s head lolled against his shoulder, her face pale and bloodied. Hold on, he willed her silently. Just hold on.

As they reached the forest, Rowan dropped the barrier, and the group plunged into the shadows of the trees. The dense undergrowth slowed their pursuers, giving the cadre a chance to put some distance between them.

“We need to split up,” Rowan said. “Fenrys, take Gavriel and lead them away. Lorcan and I will take y/n and head for the rendezvous point.”

Fenrys opened his mouth to argue, but a single look from Rowan silenced him.

“Go,” Rowan ordered.

With a growl, Fenrys and Gavriel peeled off, drawing the enemy’s attention.

The silence that followed was deafening. Only the sound of Lorcan’s ragged breathing and the faint rustle of leaves broke the stillness as he and Rowan made their way deeper into the forest.

When they finally stopped, Lorcan sank to his knees, cradling y/n as though she might disappear if he let go.

“She’s alive,” Rowan said, though his voice was heavy with doubt. “But barely.”

Lorcan couldn’t respond. His hands trembled as he brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from her face. Guilt and rage warred within him, threatening to consume him whole.

“We’ll get her back,” Rowan said, his voice firm. “But you need to keep it together.”

Lorcan’s jaw tightened as he looked up at Rowan. “If she dies…” His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“She won’t,” Rowan said, his eyes fierce. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

Lorcan nodded, swallowing hard as he forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t let her die. Not like this. Not when he had failed her so utterly.

And Maeve… Maeve would pay for this.

------

The first thing Y/N registered was the scent of wood smoke and herbs, mingling with the faint, earthy aroma of rain-soaked soil. The air was warm, almost stifling, and it felt heavier than it should have. Her body ached with a dull, persistent throb, as though she had been wrung out and left to dry.

She blinked against the dim light filtering through a small, cracked window, her vision swimming before settling on the modest, cramped interior of a hut. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, the roof thatched, and a single table sat in the corner, cluttered with vials and bandages.

Where am I?

The thought was fleeting, overridden by a sudden awareness of weight—solid, grounding, and entirely foreign—pressing against her. She shifted slightly, hissing at the pull of her tender muscles, and turned her head to look down.

Her breath caught.

Lorcan.

His head was resting on her stomach, his dark hair falling in unruly strands over his face. His massive frame was hunched over, as though even in sleep, he couldn’t quite relax. One arm was draped over her waist, the other gripping the edge of the makeshift bed she lay on. His hold was tight, almost desperate, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go.

For a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—something in her chest softened. He looked so unlike himself, so vulnerable and human, and it was a stark contrast to the cold, stoic warrior she knew.

But then it all came rushing back.

The mission. The ambush. The betrayal. His cruel words.

Her face hardened, and a sharp burst of anger surged through her. How dare he?

Without thinking, she raised her hand and swatted the back of his head.

Lorcan jolted awake instantly, his head snapping up as his body went rigid, his instincts kicking in. His hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there, his eyes wild and dark, scanning for danger.

Then his gaze landed on her, and he froze.

“Y/N?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, raw with disbelief.

Her eyes, dull and tired, met his. “Surprised to see me alive?” she asked, her tone cutting but drained of its usual bite.

Relief flooded his features, followed quickly by a maelstrom of emotions she couldn’t decipher—shock, guilt, anger at himself, and something she wasn’t ready to name.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud would make it real.

“No thanks to you,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, his hands moving to steady her. “You’re not ready—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, shrugging him off.

She wasn’t fine. Her body screamed in protest, and her head swam, but she forced herself upright, ignoring the way his hands hovered near her, ready to catch her if she faltered.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice clipped.

Lorcan cleared his throat, straightening as he rubbed the back of his neck. “A healer’s hut. A friend of Fenrys’—a trusted one. It’s safe here, for now.”

“For now,” she repeated bitterly. Her gaze swept the room, noting its sparse furnishings and the faint smell of damp wood.

“You’ve been unconscious for two weeks,” Lorcan continued cautiously, as if afraid of her reaction. “We’ve been... waiting for you to wake up.”

“Two weeks,” she echoed, her tone flat. “And where are the others?”

“Rowan and Gavriel went back to ensure Maeve hasn’t caught on to our escape, or atleast somehow keep the situation stable.” he explained. “Fenrys stayed with us.”

“Of course, Fenrys did.” She exhaled sharply, leaning back against the headboard.

Lorcan flinched at her tone but didn’t argue. “I—”

“You what?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “What could you possibly have to say, Lorcan?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might retreat behind his usual walls. But then he surprised her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and rough. “For everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t have the energy to yell or argue, not anymore. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“You said Maeve was your queen,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “You said you’d always choose her over me. So why are you here, Lorcan?”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “I was wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was so gods-damned wrong. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness—hells, I don’t even deserve to be here. But I—” He hesitated, his hands curling into fists. “I couldn’t lose you. Not like that.”

Her laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. “Congratulations, Lorcan. You didn’t lose me. But what’s left of me isn’t much, so I hope you’re satisfied.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and the guilt in his eyes deepened. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “It’s true. I’m tired, Lorcan. I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying, tired of—” She broke off, her hands trembling as she clenched the blanket.

Lorcan dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hands hovering near hers but not quite touching. “I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I know I failed you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But please, y/n... please don’t give up. Not now. Not when you’re here, alive.”

She looked away, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll fix this,” he said desperately. “I don’t know how, but I’ll fix it. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life.”

“Words,” she muttered, her tone laced with exhaustion. “They’re just words, Lorcan.”

He bowed his head, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her dismissal. But he didn’t leave. He stayed there, on his knees, as though the very act of being near her was penance.

And for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, oppressive, and filled with everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Eventually, she lay back down, turning her face away from him. “I wish to be alone.”

He nodded, his throat working as he forced himself to his feet. “I’ll be right here,” he said softly, retreating to his chair.

She didn’t respond, and as her breathing evened out, Lorcan watched her, his heart breaking anew. He had been a fool, and now the woman who held his soul was a shadow of herself. Someone who just went through so much trauma while he sat aside and watched it happen.

His y/n was gone, the female in front of him was an empty shell.

And it was all his fault.

———————————————————————

[superducky800]

tog characters on a teacup ride

inspired by someone else’s post but expanded!

lysandra, elide, rowan, gaveiel: *calmly spinning slowly and chatting*

lorcan and manon: *sitting completely stone-faced the whole time, only here bc elide asked them*

chaol and yrene: *mildly panicked and queasy, worried about aelin, aedion, and fenrys*

aelin, aedion, and fenrys: *spinning as fast as possible and shrieking, someone starts standing at some point and almost falls out*

nesryn, sartaq, and borte: *treats it as a ruk flight training simulator*

dorian: *trying to rizz up manon from the side lines*

[shadowdaddies]

Hello!!! Can I please request a Fenrys x reader fic where they realise they’re mates during the war and all that but reader and Aedion are twins so Gavriel is also obviously her father and just how they deal with the messiness of the situation but also with lots of fluff from all sides? Thank you so much 💚💚💚

I LOVE this request; it took me a minute to figure out how to make it fluffy just because Empire of Storms is so intense but this is such a cool idea; I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it💜

Reunited

Fenrys x Reader (ft. Daddy Gavriel)

Your world flipped upside down when Adarlan conquered Terrasen. Managing to escape with your brother, Aedion, the two of you formed a plan to infiltrate the Kingdom of Adarlan, developing rebel forces for when you were reunited with your cousin, Aelin.

Aedion took over as general of the Bane, filling his ranks with those who sympathized with your cause, while you worked your way up in the palace as a servant. Your duties, ranging from cleaning rooms to becoming a handmaid to the Queen, provided great intel for Aedion that allowed the Bane to stage battles. 

When Aelin returned, you aided in her rescue of Aedion, joining her and Rowan on their journey to Skull’s Bay from that point. 

It was in Rolfe’s office when your world turned upside down. You stood alongside Rowan as Aelin pitched her deal to Rolfe to join forces against Erawan. And then the door opened, revealing two males who made your heartbeat stutter for different reasons. 

You recognized your father immediately, and he you, when your tawny eyes locked with his. He stumbled forward, a gasp leaving his lips as you stared at each other. Rowan stepped protectively in front of you, one hand on your wrist as he stared down the famous Lion, the legendary member of Maeve’s cadre, Gavriel.

“Please, let me see her,” Gavriel pleaded with Rowan, his gaze struggling to meet yours around Rowan’s hulking form. 

“Rowan, it’s fine,” you whispered. You hadn’t held the same animosity towards your father as your brother, Aedion had, as you always believed he had a reason for leaving you. This was your opportunity to learn it.

Rowan turned to you, his gaze softening at the hope in your eyes. “He is blood-sworn to Maeve. He can only deny her will to an extent, and I will not let him hurt you.”

Your eyes flicked to the other male in the room, losing your balance as you stumbled backward at the look in his eyes. Fenrys watched you, awe etched on his face as he, too, moved towards you.

Rowan growled, Aelin leaping up from Rolfe’s seat where she lounged as they moved in front of you in a protective stance.

“It’s okay,” Fenrys promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “She’s my mate.” Tears formed at your eyes, the instant connection you felt towards the striking male in front of you breaking your guard down.

“Please, Row,” you tugged against his grip, desperate to meet the two males you were sure would be the most important in your life.

Rowan looked down at you, pure fae instinct in his eyes as he turned to the members of his cadre, every bit the legendary warrior as which he was known. “What are your orders from Maeve?” he demanded.

Gavriel spoke first, his voice like something from a long-lost dream, a memory from a past life that you longed for. “We were ordered to find Lorcan and kill him. If you can help us fail in finding him, we can assist you for as long as possible. Please, Rowan, Aelin, let me meet her.”

After a long, tense moment, Rowan and Aelin nodded to each other, parting ways as you now saw clearly the two males ahead of you. Your father moved towards you first, his dark tattoos in contrast to his golden hair the first thing you noticed as you rushed towards each other. He was warm, broad, muscular arms pulling you into his lithe form as you wrapped your own around him. This is home, you thought, holding back the tears as you allowed yourself to simply feel. 

Gavriel didn’t move, waiting until you reluctantly pulled away enough to look up at him. “I have so much to explain to you. So much that I wish I could take back...”

You shook your head, a small smile gracing your lips to silence him. “We will get to all of that - later. For now, I just want to know you,” you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to your father’s cheek before turning your gaze to the male in the corner.

Breathing was difficult as you took in the extraordinary beauty of him. Blonde curls fell around bewildered, onyx eyes that locked in on you. The world spun around the two of you as his gaze held you in place. “My mate,” you whispered, moving towards him slowly, as though your feet moved of their own accord, your body drawn towards him.

Fenrys simply nodded, swallowing as his chest moved with each deep breath. A chuckle from where Rowan and Aelin stood drew the two of you from your trance, and you turned to see the amusement written on Rowan’s face. “Fen, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so stricken,” he teased.

You turned, enjoying the blush on the handsome male’s face. Biting your lip, you dared to bring a hand to the golden-brown skin of his cheek. With a slight giggle, you joked, “it’s nice to meet you, Fenrys.” He nodded, transfixed on you.

Gavriel cleared his throat, clearly refraining from his fatherly protective instincts as he leaned backwards slightly. “I’ve never... scented a mating bond quite so strong,” he noted, lip slightly curling as his glance flicked to Rowan and Aelin. They nodded in agreement, smiling encouragingly at you as they held their hands up, covering the scent from their noses.

“A strong bond, indeed,” Fenrys spoke softly, stepping forwards towards you as his fingertip grazed your jawline. A slight shift in movement from your father drew you out of the moment, stepping back as you giggled nervously at your newfound family, and mate.

Rolfe rolled his eyes, shooing the group of you out the door as Aelin sent him a wink. “Let’s go figure this out elsewhere,” Rowan grumbled, guiding you outside. The group settled at a pub downstairs, where you sat in between Gavriel and Fenrys, a deep peace settling through you as you enjoyed the presence of two males who cared about you more than you’d ever dreamed.

[bookwxrmish]

The Throne of Glass series is just a group of powerful orphans trying to save the world

[froggybogwitch]

(Enjoy my drawing of what I think Vaughan looks like)

One of the many things that facinates me about the Cadre is the potential within their inter-personal relationships. Now, admittedly I'm going to be getting into a Lot of my personal HCs about the Cadre's history and place as a part of Maeve's court, especially Vaughan since there is quite literally nothing about him except that he's a sea bird and is a master of not confronting the issue (U go girl, give us nothing to work with) so, this is not to be taken as just an interpertation of canon (though there will be some of that), but as my personal "what I wish we got."

Alright, with that disclaimer over, the Cadre is *old.* Canonically, Gavriel is it's oldest living member at about 600 years old, but by no means is he treated as it's founder. He was not the first bloodsworn, and as a fairly prominent character, especially in relation to Aedion who IS the founder of his own unit, the Bane, I feel it would have been mentionned or alluded to if that were the intention. So, the Cadre is old as BALLS. My guess is that they were formed during the first vlag conquest, and thus the original members of the Cadre would have been contemporaries of Brannon Galathynius and Athril.

My personal headcanon is that while Gavriel isn't a founding member of the Cadre, Vaughan is. Vaughan was there when the first oaths were sworn. He was the youngest of his cohort to swear, an abandonned child turned squire, and has served faithfully ever since. He served for centuries before Gavriel was even born. He's lived longer that any creature, even fae should, and his mind cracked under the pressure. He could not handle the weight of his own memories, and so his mind protected him. (Does the oath sustain him? Does it trap his soul in a body that can barely breath? Is his magical well just *that* deep?) He has raised and trained generations of bloodsworn, lived so long that their names, faces, deaths blur together.

And just like his own mentors, the original members of the cadre who first swore blood oaths to Maeve, he wasn't gentle. He didn't really know how to, even when he tried to be. And that was fine with adults, with men who had been chosen from the ranks of Maeve's army and guard, like Gavriel. But Lorcan wasn't an adult. He wasn't a blooded soldier when Maeve chose him, and put him in Vaughan's care. He was still a child, who'd never had stability, never had a safe haven, or a gentle guiding hand.

He got one of those from Vaughan, and it was stability, though he needed the other two just as desperately.

And it all got so much more complicated after Vaughan's mind started falling apart, and he started both forgetting how he treated Lorcan and basing his attitude towards Rowan (and Lorcan) on observations of how Gavriel taught. How Gavriel was gentle and patient with his teaching, while still staying firm. Lorcan resents Vaughn for the way he was, is glad he was different for Rowan, is grieving the loss of a man who took care of and understood him more than clean cut gavriel or noble-born Rowan ever could. Which comes right back around to resenting Vaughn for his "weakness" of mind and the precieved abandonnement, while being glad that vaughn can't remember the vulnerabilities Lorcan let him see when he was younger. And I think, Lorcan, deep deep down, envies Vaughn the capacity to just forget everything they've done and everything that's been done to them. Because Vaughn no longer wakes up screaming, and so many of his old triggers (triggers Lorcan once knew like the back of his hand) are just gone.

[readychilledwine]

✨️What Readychilledwine's favorite SJM males would call you✨️

💝Just a little headcanon of what my favorite males would call you as their mate. This is part 2 because tumblr limits how many images you can post 💝

Warning - she's long because of the fanart, but I figured we all deserve some eye candy today

(P.s. fanart is credited unless I could not find the creator, if you happen to know, please comment so I can add it.)

🌙 Crescent City 🌙

Ruhn - Michelle Taiki Art, Hunt - Anna Stone, Tharion - Sncinder

Ruhn

✨️ my mate, hot stuff, momma (regardless of momma status), queen ✨️

Hunt

⚡️angel, little wife, sugar, my other half, baby girl⚡️

Tharion

🌊wifey, hun, baby, sweetheart, Lady Whatever🌊

👑 Throne of Glass 👑

Rowan - Dominque Wesson, Fenrys - Morgana0anagrom, Lorcan- secia fanart (its ai I apologize), Sam- Beth Gilbert art, Gavriel - Morgana0anagrom, Dorian - Mads Schofield

Rowan

🪶 sugar, lovey, baby, dove, little bird, my queen 🪶

Fenrys

🐾pet, lovebug, little doe, baby🐾

Lorcan

🌌 princess, wife, dearest, my lady, little one🌌

Sam

🗡sweetheart, dear, my heart, my lady🗡

Gavriel

💛tigress, mate, precious, princess💛

Dorian

🖤 my light, my queen, darling, goddess🖤

💝💝peep part 1 for the ACOTAR males here💝💝

General taglist :

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

[yssycoppola]

The Eras Tour with Elorcan

okay, an inspiration that I got from: @danikamariewrites. ♥️

a modern!elorcan x reader:

• When you and Elide found out that Taylor was going on tour, you were excited.

• Lorcan barely had time to reason when they saw the two women, more excited than ever, running up to him and talking about it.

• He was never a fan of pop, and most of the time he was always talking and making jokes about you and Elide listening to these "little girl" songs, but you both knew that he knows the lyrics to each song by heart.

• You and Elide are very excited the day you buy the tickets, and of course you buy the VIP, and Lorcan loves seeing the big smiles on both of you.

• Elide sometimes seems even more anxious than you, the two of you preparing for months, organizing your clothes and listening to the albums from the beginning, singing the lyrics with the highest possible tone of voice.

• The day arrives, and you and Elide spend every hour getting ready. Elide wears a beautiful dress with Lover's colors and you wear Red's dress. Lorcan wears typical black clothes, which makes you and Elide roll your eyes, so you fill him with Friendship Bracelets and they tell him to at least pretend to be on Reputation.

• You guys get there and make Lorcan a camera. He takes photos of you all the time, and is more than happy to do so. Of course, the three of you take photos together, and everyone's cell phone gallery is full of photos and videos from this show.

• You and Elide scream and dance the entire show, and Lorcan also lets go in many moments, but usually looking at you with a smile that said it all.

• By the end, you and Elide were hoarse, the three of you covered in sweat. You could barely walk with your heels and the calluses that formed on your feet, this made you and Elide lean on each other as you walked and Lorcan called a car.

• You two were sleepy, and almost fell asleep in the car, but Lorcan woke you up and helped you get out of the car and go into the house.

• He's pure muscle, and he didn't let you take a single step when you two got out of the car. He placed you and Elide on both his shoulders and carried you to the bedroom. While you two were lying in bed, he came down and made sure the house was closed and safe.

•You and Elide take a shower and put on the first pair of pajamas you can find.Lorcan found out and sees the two of you lying in bed, eating some snacks and your bodies are tired.

• You rest your head on Elide's shoulder and you cuddle together, while Lorcan finishes showering and starts massaging both of your feet.

• Elide snuggles into you and the three of you lie down, Lorcan's arms wrapping around your body and Elide's.

• This is how you sleep, with your back pressed against Lorcan's muscular chest and his hand stroking Elide's hair. Tired, but very happy with the moment that happened.

[shallyne]

Gavriel is the daddiest of all daddys. He's daddying like no other ever daddied before

[azrielaxtar]

Just for fun…

We all know Maas has picked some interesting names so which male name is your fave?

[pookalicious-hq]

a foreigner's god... 1 - skybound

library | navi | next part

synopsis: with the presence of a shadow, light isn't far behind. through two worlds you live within a balance of waiting and living. memories, faith and lovers all lost at once. tags/tws: a court of thorns and roses/throne of glass crossover!, azriel x fem!reader, so much fluff then so much angst sorry, meantion of blood, war and fighting, suggestive scenes, swearing, meantions of torture word count: 11.5k

You could never truly hide from the sun. Even with your eyes shut, even in the deepest shadows, she would find you—because she was never meant to be hidden from. Her touch, warm and gentle as a mother’s caress, reached through every barrier, slipping past closed lids to paint the darkness gold. Her light kissed bare skin, seeped into bones, and whispered secrets only the heavens could understand.

She was everywhere, in the glow of dawn spilling over the horizon, in the golden dust that clung to skin, in the lingering warmth on stone long after she had set. Others might shrink from her at times, shielding themselves from her intensity, but to you, the sun was not something to be feared. She was a promise, a constant presence, a piece of yourself reflected in the sky.

You loved the sun.

And she loved you as well—so deeply, so fiercely, that even before your first breath, the whispers of your existence had already begun. They did not start with you; they had been there long before, woven into the fabric of myths and half-forgotten prayers.

The stories claimed that once, long ago, the sun had not merely bathed the world in her light—she had given life. That in a moment of divine will, she had poured herself into the earth, searing it with something more than warmth, something more than fire. And from that touch, from that sacred moment, you had been born.

A child of light. A daughter of the sun. The first Seraphim.

But the sun had not let you walk the world just yet. Instead, she cradled you in her golden embrace, hid you away in the sky or beneath the earth—no one could say for sure. Only that you slept, untouched by time, waiting.

And then, two hundred years ago, you awoke.

You emerged into a world that had nearly forgotten you, into a court that had never expected to witness the return of something so celestial, so impossible. The Day Court took you in, for where else could you belong but in the lands that worshipped the light? The people called you goddess, miracle, salvation. Some knelt before you. Some feared you.

But the sun only watched. She only smiled.

And wherever you walked, she followed, not in fleeting rays or stolen moments of warmth, but in the knowledge that if there were shadows, there must be light, an eternal tether. She bent to you, wrapped herself around you like a second skin, a friend, a mother, a guardian, all at once.

The people of the Day Court saw this, and they whispered. A goddess, they called you, murmuring in reverence as you passed. They spoke of the sun’s favorite child, of the one who wielded light as if it had been crafted for her alone. They spoke of you with awe, with devotion, with a kind of fear reserved only for things beyond common understanding.

But to him, you were not a goddess.

You were an angel.

Azriel had never believed in myths.

He had spent centuries lurking in the dark, learning that gods the mortals prayed to did not answer. No divine hand reached down to save those who suffered. If there were gods, they were cruel things, detached and uncaring, watching from above as blood soaked the earth.

The idea of godly intervention was a lie, and yet, mortals still whispered of them. Some tales spoke of winged messengers who soared through the skies before vanishing into legend. Of celestial beings not born of flesh, but of stardust and sunfire. Of the Seraphim, holy creatures that had once walked among the Fae before they were wiped from history, nothing more than a fever dream of the past.

Azriel had dismissed them as nothing more than stories meant to lull children to sleep. Until now.

The rumors had spread like wildfire. A creature of light. A goddess in mortal flesh. The Sun’s Daughter.

He had not believed them. But as he moved through the Day Court’s gardens, bathed in molten gold and soft summer winds, he thought—perhaps, just this once—he had found something holy.

You stood at the heart of the garden, sunlight pooling around you as if you had been sculpted from it. Your hair shimmered, flecked with gold that caught the light like a halo. Your eyes—strange, radiant, endless—were the color of burnished honey. But it was your wings that truly unraveled him.

Feathered. Vast. White tinged with gold, as though the sun had kissed each individual plume. They twitched slightly, unconsciously graceful, and when you turned, your gaze met his.

You smiled.

Azriel was not a man who faltered. He had faced High Lords and warlords, had battled creatures that haunted nightmares, had stood before beasts and not flinched.

But that smile—soft, warm, unafraid—knocked the breath from his lungs.

He should have left. Should have remembered his mission, the scroll tucked into his leathers, the fact that he did not belong in this place. But for the first time in centuries, Azriel did not move.

He only watched as you stood in the garden, tilted your head, as if trying to place him in the shifting light.

And then, as if you already knew him, as if you had been waiting—

You spoke, "Come into the sunlight."

He winnowed back to the townhouse before you finished your breath.

But he did not flee.

At least, that was what Azriel told himself as he winnowed straight into the townhouse, shadows curling tight around him like a second skin. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs, an unfamiliar thing—a foreign rhythm he had not felt in centuries.

He exhaled sharply, forcing his mind back into order. It was a trick. A game played by Day Court illusions. That was the only explanation.

And yet, even as he reached for logic, your voice still echoed in his ears.

Come into the sunlight.

Azriel cursed, dragging a hand down his face. He did not want to think about you, but the vision of your wings, your golden eyes, the way the sunlight bent for you, refused to leave his mind.

He needed answers.

It began as a flicker of curiosity, the faintest whisper of doubt at the edge of his thoughts. But the more Azriel tried to suppress it, the louder the question became. There was something about you—something he could not place, something right about you being here, in this place where the sun never left, yet he could not shake the feeling that this world didn’t deserve you.

Azriel turned to the one thing he knew best: shadows. He had spent centuries learning how to listen to the whispers they carried. And so, he sought out the tendrils of darkness, letting them twist and curl around his fingers, using them to search for any trace of what you were.

The answer had come back as a murmur—a single word.

Seraphim.

Azriel had scoffed. He had thought the Seraphim were nothing more than myths, forgotten tales from ancient history. He was no fool; he knew better than to put stock in such things. And yet, as he dug deeper, his shadows pulled him toward the stories, the scattered remnants of their existence.

It was not a mere legend. The Seraphim were real—or, at least, they had been.

Weeks passed, and Azriel’s frustration mounted. The more he searched, the more the answers slipped through his fingers, like fine sand caught in the wind. Even his shadows struggled to find anything concrete, as though the very nature of the Seraphim was designed to be hidden from view.

He tried the library, hoping for something more tangible, but all he found was dust and silence. Rhysand, ever perceptive, had begun to question his unusual research habits, asking with subtle curiosity why Azriel was spending his days between ancient scrolls and forgotten tomes.

Azriel, ever the master of evasion, had not answered.

After a week of dead ends and unanswered questions, he had exhausted every option. And so, with no other recourse, he found himself standing in Amren’s study, the heavy scent of bloodred wine lingering in the air as the ancient female regarded him with a knowing look.

“Why the blank face?” she asked dryly, swirling her glass lazily.

Azriel did not rise to the bait. “Tell me about the Seraphim.”

The name seemed to catch her attention. Amren set down her glass, the flicker of candlelight dancing off her silver eyes, which narrowed as she studied him. “Seraphim?” Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Now that is an old name.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with irritation, but he kept his tone level. “I don’t have time for riddles.”

“You never do, you and your Truth Teller,” Amren muttered, her finger tracing the rim of her glass in a slow arc. “But why the sudden interest? The Seraphim have been gone for eons. Not a single trace of them remains.”

Azriel hesitated. He hated admitting vulnerability, especially to Amren, but the frustration gnawed at him. “What if they weren’t gone?”

A long, pregnant silence hung in the air before Amren’s lips parted in a quiet, amused chuckle. “Ah,” she said, reaching for her glass again, her fingers long and graceful as they grasped the stem. “So you’ve met her.”

His brow creased just the slightest. His pulse quickened. “Who?”

Amren’s gaze sharpened, and for the first time in their long acquaintance, Azriel felt a flicker of something other then danger in her eyes. “The Sun’s Daughter,” she said softly, as if the name alone was enough to unravel everything. “She is the first of them.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat, the word Seraphim now taking on an entirely different meaning. But before he could ask more, Amren raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t bother asking me questions you’re not ready for, Azriel,” she warned. “The answers will find you—whether you want them to or not.”

The finality of her words hung in the air, but as Azriel left her study, the weight of her words settling on his shoulders, he couldn’t help but wonder how much he truly wanted to know.

And whether, by seeking the truth, he would be prepared for what it would reveal.

Azriel stood at the foot of the palace stairs, his gaze wandering over the grand expanse of the Day Court's grounds. The sunlight filtered through the trees, their branches heavy with blooms of pink and gold, casting dappled shadows across the courtyard. Yet, amidst all the beauty, his attention was fixed on a single spot.

You.

There, at the edge of the garden, you stood like a figure of light itself, as if the golden rays of the sun bent down to meet you. Your wings, large and ethereal, caught the sunlight, radiating warmth and brilliance. Azriel’s heart skipped a beat as he stared, unable to pull his eyes away. The Seraphim. The Sun’s Daughter. His thoughts flitted through the fragments of stories he'd heard—myths, whispers, half-truths about a figure lost to time. But seeing you in person, bathed in sunlight, felt like a living impossibility.

A rush of confusion and curiosity gripped him. He’d never been the kind to be distracted, to let his gaze wander, but there was something about you that called to him, something undeniable.

“Azriel?” Rhysand’s voice snapped him out of his trance, sharp and knowing. “You planning to stare at the garden all day, or are we going inside for this meeting?”

Azriel blinked, taking one last look at the figure bathed in sunlight before nodding stiffly. “Right,” he murmured, forcing himself to turn away.

The walk inside was as grand as the courtyard outside. Tall marble columns, gilded with gold, stretched to the high, vaulted ceilings. The scent of roses and citrus hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint, calming scent of freshly polished wood. The palace radiated warmth, like sunlight turned into a physical space. But despite all its beauty, Azriel couldn’t shake the image of you.

Inside, Helion, as radiant as ever, stood in the center of the room, waiting for them. His smile was warm, genuine, and his eyes gleamed with intelligence that Azriel had always respected. The room was bathed in soft light, sunlight streaming through the tall windows, filling the space with a gentle glow.

Helion greeted the group with his usual charm, his voice smooth as honey. “Welcome, I trust your journey was pleasant?”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, as politics often did, but Azriel found himself unable to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, to the way the light seemed to swirl around you like an aura, to the impossible reality of your presence. His gaze flicked toward the windows, barely catching glimpses of the garden, his mind wandering back to the figure he had left behind outside.

It wasn’t like him to lose focus—his job was to watch, to listen, to be ever-present and ever-aware. Yet, as the meeting continued, Azriel found his attention waning. His eyes darted once more toward the garden, searching, even though he knew you weren’t there anymore. He could feel the burn of curiosity creeping up his spine, pulling him away from the conversation that he should have been fully engaged in.

Helion, ever perceptive, finally caught on. His smile never wavered, but there was an amused glint in his eye as he shifted his gaze to Azriel. The room seemed to pause for a moment, the conversation carrying on without him, and yet Azriel’s mind was elsewhere.

“Spymaster,” Helion’s voice broke through the murmur of the room, teasing but not unkind. “Looking for something? Or should I say… someone?”

The words landed in the room like a ripple, drawing the attention of the others. Rhysand’s brow arched slightly, Cassian’s eyes narrowed with curiosity, and Mor’s lips quirked into a smirk, clearly intrigued. Azriel’s throat tightened as he realized they had all noticed.

He didn’t answer. His gaze flickered once more toward the window, unable to contain it, before returning to the table.

Helion chuckled, his voice light but warm. “I see. You’ve spotted her, haven’t you?”

Azriel clenched his jaw but remained silent. He couldn’t form a proper response. His mind was filled with too many questions, too many pieces that didn’t fit together.

And then, like something out of a dream, you appeared.

The sun seemed to bend to your will as you swept into the room, your wings gliding gracefully behind you. The sunlight haloed around you, casting a soft glow on everything it touched. It was like you carried the very essence of light within you, and Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you move. His mind, already in a whirl from the earlier tension, faltered in its attempts to regain focus.

Helion let out a soft laugh, clearly delighted by the situation. “Ah, here she is, the one you’ve all been hearing rumors about.”

You landed with ease beside Helion, your wings folding gently behind you. You glanced around the room with calm interest, but when your gaze met Azriel’s, your smile grew—soft, knowing, almost like you had been expecting him all along. You tilted your head slightly, as though regarding him with quiet curiosity.

“Yes, Father?” Your voice was light, playful, and the way you spoke the word Father seemed so natural, as if you had always known him—an unspoken bond, centuries old.

Helion’s laughter echoed around the room, rich with affection and a bit of amusement. It was clear there was a deep connection between you two, one woven through years, if not lifetimes, of shared history. But there was something else there, too—a familiarity that Azriel couldn’t place, something beyond the surface of simple familial ties.

Azriel’s chest tightened. He couldn’t stop looking at you, feeling the warmth radiating from you. Your golden eyes seemed to pierce right through him, and for a moment, it felt like you could see everything about him—the things he kept buried deep.

Helion, with his characteristic ease, broke the moment. “This is my ‘adopted daughter’,” he announced with a grin, “the Sun’s Daughter, as we in the Day Court call her.”

The room fell into a stunned silence, the energy shifting as everyone processed the revelation. Azriel’s heart raced, his thoughts scattered. You had a title, a legacy. And yet, there was something about the way you stood there, serene yet undeniably powerful, that made it feel like you were more than just a title.

You turned your gaze toward Azriel again, a small smile playing on your lips. Despite the golden light around you, there was a coolness to your stare, like you were studying him just as intently as he was studying you. There was something in your eyes that hinted at secrets—things too complex to be understood at a glance.

“A pleasure,” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet authority. Your tone was polite, yes, but there was a depth beneath it—an underlying strength that Azriel couldn’t quite grasp.

Helion leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “I would assume Amren has already told you about her, though I must say, I’m grateful for your silence on the matter, Ancient One.”

Amren, who had been sitting in a quiet corner, raised an eyebrow and gave a wry smile. “I’m good at keeping secrets, Helion. You should be grateful.” There was a sharpness in her voice that Azriel knew all too well—one that indicated she wasn’t giving away anything she didn’t want to.

Your eyes met Amren’s then, and the connection between you two was unmistakable. The slight curve of your lips in a smile, the way Amren’s posture shifted just a bit more relaxed in response—it was clear you two shared something. A bond that transcended mere acquaintance. Despite the vast differences in your temperaments, Amren tolerated you, even enjoyed your company in her own way. And in return, you didn’t seem to push her boundaries, always respecting the ancient secrets she carried with her.

The conversation shifted toward political matters, but Azriel’s mind wasn’t in the room anymore. Every glance he stole toward you was filled with questions—rumors he’d heard, but never fully understood. What are you? He wondered, his pulse quickening every time his gaze met yours. You felt like something… ancient, almost too much for him to comprehend.

As the meeting came to a close, the Inner Circle stood, moving toward the door. Azriel’s mind was still tangled in confusion and curiosity, his eyes following you as you made your way toward the exit. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more about you—something he needed to figure out. But as the last of the conversation died down, he realized there was one person he could never get an answer from.

Amren.

Cassian’s voice broke through his thoughts as he threw his hands up in disbelief. “What the hell was that about?” he asked, his voice louder than usual. “Who is she?”

Rhysand’s gaze lingered on the door where you had just disappeared. “What’s her deal, Azriel?” His voice was low, measured, but there was an edge of concern. “Why does she feel so… different?”

Mor, who had been quiet until now, added her thoughts in a softer tone. “She didn’t just look like a goddess, Azriel. She felt like something else entirely.” Her words were filled with apprehension, and Azriel could hear the unspoken question behind them.

The group turned toward Amren, who had barely acknowledged them since the introduction, her gaze distant. But it was clear that whatever was going on with you, Amren wasn’t going to provide any clarity. She knew more than she was letting on, and they all knew it.

“What’s she hiding, Amren?” Cassian asked, his voice casual, though his eyes burned with the same curiosity as the rest of them.

Amren’s lips twitched into a half-smile, the kind that spoke of knowledge and power. “Nothing that concerns you, Cassian,” she replied cryptically. “But perhaps he will explain it one day.”

Her gaze flicked to Azriel for a brief moment, as if she were passing the torch to him. The others followed her glance, and Azriel felt their eyes on him, all their questions suddenly becoming his responsibility. He met their stares, his chest tightening with the weight of the unknown.

They all knew they wouldn’t get anything out of Amren, not now, not ever. The question of who you were and why you felt so different hung in the air, unanswered.

Azriel stared at the door, lost in thought, his mind racing with questions. For once, he didn’t have the answers.

"I was wrong."

Something most conscious beings had a hard time accepting. Azriel was wrong. He shouldn’t have left the comfort of the townhouse to find you.

It had been two weeks since the meeting, two weeks since Helion introduced you with that quiet, almost serene confidence. Two weeks since the unknown and inexplicable pull toward you had woven itself into his every thought. He needed to understand what it was about you. The questions gnawed at him relentlessly: Who were you? Why did you feel so different? What was this pull?

He had never been the one to chase after something—or someone—for answers. It was not in his nature, not with his shadows constantly whispering to him. But this time, this time had been different.

As he entered the gardens of the Day Court, the sun beat down in the way it always did, warm and soft. He moved through the orchards, the tall flowers brushing against his arms, the scent of petals and herbs surrounding him in a blanket of calming sweetness. But the air felt heavy, filled with something more than just the fragrance of blooming flowers. It felt like the garden itself was watching him, as if it knew the reason he was here.

And yet, you weren’t there.

The familiar stillness of the garden set a subtle unease in his chest. Normally, you were here, somewhere, basking in the sunlight, just as the rumors said the Sun’s Daughter always did. But not today.

He moved deeper into the garden, weaving between the trees and flowers, his steps quickening, impatience building with each turn. The further he walked, the more the path opened before him, as if the garden itself was guiding him, leading him toward a place he didn’t want to go but couldn’t seem to avoid. It felt like the landscape itself was conspiring against him.

Then, there you were.

In the distance, beneath the golden rays that seemed to crown you with an ethereal glow, you stood, as though waiting for him. Your wings unfurled slightly, catching the light, and in that moment, everything around him seemed to pause.

He shouldn’t be here. This was pointless. Why was he so attracted to you? It wasn’t in the way he found you attractive—no, that was not it. It was deeper, more insistent, like his very being was drawn to yours, like there were answers in you that he was meant to uncover.

But this was a bad idea. Why hadn’t he thought this through?

He had no plan. No questions. He hadn’t even figured out what he was going to say when he saw you. He had just followed the impulse, the need to understand. To learn.

And now, here he was.

A part of him wanted to turn around, walk away before you noticed him. But his feet were rooted to the ground, his shadows clinging to the grass, unwilling to let him go.

As he approached, you turned, your gaze meeting his with that same calm, knowing expression. It was like you had been expecting him all along.

You said nothing at first, simply studying him with those golden eyes that shimmered like the sun itself. It was maddening, how effortlessly you seemed to see through him, how everything about you felt like a riddle he couldn’t solve. And yet, it wasn’t just the curiosity gnawing at him—it was something more. Something inexplicable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to understand you. That you were important.

The questions—the endless swirl of them—tumbled from his mind, and for a moment, he could hardly remember why he had come. Instead, his chest tightened with the overwhelming presence of you. You stood there like the sun itself, casting light on everything in the garden. You absorbed it, drank it in, until it seemed like the very air around you glowed, like the golden light was woven into your skin, your wings, your very soul.

"Hello, Spymaster," you said softly, as if you knew exactly who he was, even without the title. There was a weight to your voice that caught him off guard, pulling him into the moment, forcing him to face the reality of why he was here. "I didn’t expect you to come looking for me. How do you find my garden?"

His pulse quickened, throat tight, as the words threatened to spill from him—but no, they remained stuck, caught somewhere between his chest and his lips. What was he supposed to say to you? How could he possibly ask the questions that had been burning inside him for weeks? Why did he feel like he was unraveling the moment he tried to approach it?

"It’s beautiful…" Azriel finally muttered, but the words didn’t satisfy him. They weren’t enough, not when the weight of everything he wanted to know pressed on his shoulders. Not when the pull to understand you felt like an invisible thread wrapped around his chest, tightening with each passing second.

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and Azriel couldn’t shake the feeling that you saw straight through him, down to the very core of his thoughts. "You don’t need to explain yourself, Azriel," you said, your voice threading through his mind like a whisper, cutting through the confusion. "Not to me."

Your eyes, still shimmering with that quiet power, seemed to study him for a moment, as though weighing something unsaid. Then, with a trace of amusement, you added, "You’re not the first to come looking for answers. And you won’t be the last."

Azriel stood there, his mind whirling as your words settled in the space between them. Who else had come looking for you? What did you mean by that? But even more pressing, why did it feel like you knew everything about him already, like your presence was somehow… familiar?

"I didn’t think this through," Azriel admitted quietly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He was standing here, in front of you, and his mind was a mess. He had no plan, no strategy. The questions he’d come with—he could barely even remember them now.

You tilted your head slightly, regarding him with a faint smile. "Most don’t," you said simply, as though it was something you’d seen countless times before. "You don’t have to ask all your questions right away. Some things need to come in their own time."

Azriel was left standing there, feeling as though everything about you had just unraveled him. The way the sun seemed to bend toward you. The way you drank it in, effortlessly glowing in its embrace. The pull he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

Finally, the question broke through his fog, desperate to be asked. "Who was the first?" He could barely keep the curiosity out of his voice.

You smiled again, and the air seemed to shift with it, like something old and powerful stirred beneath the surface. "I was."

And in that moment, Azriel’s world narrowed to that single response, the weight of it pressing down on him like a storm on the horizon. It made everything else feel irrelevant, insignificant. Because the first was you, and in some way, he knew now that he had already lost himself in you.

The game had changed, and he had no idea how to play it.

Ethereal was the only word closest enough to capture your essence within the confines of a single meaning. But even that seemed inadequate. You were more than just light, more than the sun’s rays casting their warmth on the earth. You were the embodiment of it, every movement you made bending the air, shifting the very atmosphere around you in a way that felt both surreal and magnetic.

Azriel could never have predicted it—how someone so... untouchable would invade his thoughts. He was used to the shadows, the quiet, the things that lurked in the dark. But you, with your golden eyes and that calm, knowing presence, made the very air feel like it was alive with energy.

He remembered the first time he had truly seen you—your wings unfurling like rays of sunlight, your form glowing, bathing the world in warmth. That was when the curiosity had first taken root. But now, two weeks later, it was more than just curiosity.

It was obsession. A quiet, relentless pull that kept him coming back.

He told himself it was nothing. That it was just a fleeting fascination. You were a powerful force, a being unlike anything he had ever encountered. That was all. But the more time he spent with you, the harder it was to keep up the façade. It wasn’t just your power. It wasn’t just your beauty. It was the way you made him feel, the way you seemed to see through him with that knowing smile, the way the light itself seemed to respond to your very presence.

As the weeks turned into months, Azriel found himself returning to the Day Court again and again. At first, he told himself it was just to understand you better, to unravel the mystery that surrounded your presence. But somewhere along the way, it became something else. It wasn’t the questions anymore. It was you.

He found comfort in your company, a strange sense of belonging he didn’t know he was searching for. You didn’t just listen to him—you saw him, in ways that no one ever had before. His silence didn’t frighten you; it seemed to give you space to talk, to share pieces of your life, your memories. You talked about the light, about the way it shaped everything in your life, and the way you could feel it in ways others couldn’t. You shared stories of the plants you cared for, the ones that seemed to thrive under your touch, and how you could coax them into bloom by simply being with them.

Azriel became so enmeshed in your world that he couldn’t remember when it happened, but he found himself looking forward to these visits. What began as a way to pass the time between missions, a fleeting curiosity, grew into something deeper—a friendship he didn’t know he needed. He didn’t need to be anyone else around you. He didn’t need to be the spymaster, the shadow that everyone feared. He could just be yours, and that was enough.

One day, during one of his visits, he finally asked you, hesitantly, “Your light, how does it work? I can only imagine, but I know I don’t do it justice in my head.”

There was a flicker of amusement in your eyes, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Azriel. You’ve earned that.”

He followed you into a secluded part of the garden, where the sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow, and the air was thick with the scent of flowers in bloom. You stepped into the open space, your wings unfurling slowly, catching the light as though they were made of sunbeams themselves. Azriel’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just the way the light seemed to bend around you; it was the power of it, the sheer beauty.

You closed your eyes for a moment, your entire being becoming attuned to the world around you. Then, with a sudden movement, you raised your hands, and the air around you shimmered.

Azriel watched in awe as the light seemed to dance, twisting around you like an ethereal storm. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It wasn’t just power—it was life, it was energy, it was pure light. It moved and swirled in intricate patterns, forming shapes and colors he couldn’t even begin to describe. The glow around you intensified, casting long, stretching shadows across the ground, yet it never touched you. It was like the light belonged to you, and the world had to bend to your will.

Azriel was entranced, standing there in silence, utterly captivated. He hadn’t realized just how deeply he had become drawn to you, but in that moment, it was impossible to deny. The way your eyes shimmered with the power you controlled, the way your expression softened as you weaved the light into something tangible—it was mesmerizing.

When you finished, the light slowly faded, but the lingering energy remained in the air, like a hum. Azriel was still standing there, speechless, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Magnificent,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent.

You smiled, an expression that was both soft and knowing. “Most people don’t get to see it. Only those who truly understand the light can appreciate it in its purest form.”

Azriel finally found his voice, his gaze still locked on you. “I don’t think I ever will truly understand it,” he admitted quietly. “But what I do know... is that I’ll never forget what I just saw.”

There was a warmth in your eyes, a glint of something deeper—something that made his chest tighten. You didn’t need to say anything more. The moment was enough. Your friendship had always been grounded in an unspoken understanding, but in that moment, there was a shift—a deeper connection that neither of you could ignore.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden light across the garden, Azriel found himself wanting to stay with you. More than anything, he wanted to stay, to let the moments stretch on forever. He hadn’t realized until now how much he had come to depend on your presence, how much he needed this—needed you.

Soon, he realized love was a fickle thing. It wasn’t something that could ever hurt, he came to realize. Others would advise him otherwise, with love came loss just as much as with light, there was dark. But as he spent more time with you, as he allowed himself to fall deeper into the connection they shared, Azriel understood—this love didn’t hold the loss others talked about. It was the moments in between, the small exchanges of trust and tenderness, and the quiet understanding that bound them together.

The longer he stayed by your side, the more he saw how others were wrong about love. It wasn’t a fragile thing that shattered with the weight of pain—it was a force that could build, that could sustain and hold even when the world around them trembled. He hadn’t expected that, not from someone like you, not from someone who shone with such brightness that it seemed impossible to reach. Yet here he was, every day becoming more tethered to you, to the light you offered without hesitation.

And yet, still—he was afraid.

He had grown close to you, closer than he ever thought possible, and with each passing day, the pull between them deepened. You were no longer just the Sun’s Daughter, a mystery he was desperate to understand. You were his, in ways that neither of them had fully acknowledged. But even then, there was that flicker of doubt.

What if it was too much? What if, in the end, there was nothing left after all of this, after the years, after the feelings? Love was something he had seen destroy—so much loss, so much darkness that followed the light.

Azriel had never been one to confront his own vulnerabilities. His shadows were a far safer companion than the raw ache of affection that had begun to reside in his chest. Still, the more time they spent together, the clearer it became: he could no longer deny that he loved you.

But that wasn’t enough. Love had never been enough, not when it could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

The sky was painted in strokes of gold and amber, the last remnants of the sun bleeding into soft pinks and purples that stretched endlessly across the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of ripe citrus and jasmine, the warmth of the day lingering on the grass, on the petals of every flower swaying in the gentle breeze.

Azriel lay stretched across your lap, his wings tucked close to his body, his head resting against your legs as though this had always been his place. And maybe it had. Maybe he had been meant to find you, to end up here, beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, his shadows quiet for once as the world bathed in your light.

It should have been like every other evening. Another quiet moment stolen in the hush of the Day Court gardens. But tonight, something was different.

He had watched you a thousand times before, but tonight, with the sunset casting you in molten gold, you looked like something from a dream. A painting of the divine, bathed in warmth, kissed by the light itself. And the worst part—the part that made his heart clench painfully—was that you didn’t even seem to notice. You didn’t realize how the fading sun bent to you, how the light curled around your wings like it was drawn to something greater, something more.

His gaze drifted to the sky, watching birds weave intricate patterns overhead, their wings slicing through the painted clouds with effortless grace. The soft rustle of the leaves, the distant hum of the fountains—it all blurred into the background, fading beneath the quiet sound of your breathing, the warmth of your fingers absentmindedly combing through his hair.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation, on the way you touched him so easily, so gently, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps, by now, it was. He had grown accustomed to your warmth, to the way you leaned into him without hesitation, without fear. It had been a year of knowing you, and yet, every day, you unraveled him further.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to find you already looking down at him, your expression soft, knowing. The sunset burned behind you, turning the strands of your hair into liquid gold, your golden eyes catching the light in a way that made it impossible to look away.

You were the sun itself. And he—he was just a fool who had spent too long pretending he didn’t need its warmth.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” you said, voice barely above a murmur, yet carrying the weight of something ancient, something undeniable.

Azriel’s heart stuttered. You always saw too much, always slipped past his defenses like light spilling through the cracks. And now, now you were here, looking at him like you already knew the answer.

Still, the words were difficult to admit. They felt heavy, lodged in his throat. But when he finally spoke, it was quiet, raw, barely audible beneath the soft rustling of the garden.

“That you’ll fly away,” he confessed, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, as if that alone would keep you here. “That you’ll go somewhere I can’t reach. I can’t bear to be apart from you.”

Your lips curved, and for a moment, you said nothing. Just reached down, your fingers tracing along the sharp edge of his cheekbone, soft and grounding, the kind of touch that settled deep in his chest and took root.

“It’s a good thing you have wings as well, I suppose,” you murmured, thumb brushing lightly over his scar. “I’ll never be somewhere you can’t find me.”

And as your fingers trailed lower, as the warmth of the setting sun melted into the warmth of your touch, Azriel realized—he had never stood a chance. He had already fallen.

The golden light clung to you, illuminating every delicate curve of your face, every feather of your wings, as if the sun itself refused to let you go. And him—he was the shadows creeping at the edges, the night patiently waiting its turn. He had spent a lifetime shrouded in darkness, wrapped in silence, yet somehow, here you were, standing at the seam where day met night, and instead of turning away from him, you reached out.

Azriel closed his eyes at your touch, his breath shaky. The weight of his fears, the shadows of loss and pain, suddenly felt so insignificant under your soft guidance. He had been running for so long, afraid to let anyone too close, afraid to truly let himself love. But now, here with you, he understood.

The light you gave him wasn’t just about warmth—it was about trust. It was about letting go.

When he opened his eyes, the sky had deepened into a watercolor of indigo and violet, the last streaks of sunlight retreating below the horizon. Yet, even in the growing dusk, you still shone. Soft, unwavering. The sun may have set, but its glow still lingered on your skin, as if refusing to leave you entirely.

Azriel lifted a hand, hesitating only for a second before brushing his knuckles against your cheek. It was a silent acknowledgment, a wordless confession of everything he had yet to say.

“I don’t want to tether you down,” he whispered, voice rough with something fragile, something afraid. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll make myself worthy to follow after you.”

Your expression didn’t change—not in the way he expected, at least. No surprise, no hesitation. Only quiet understanding, only that same steady warmth he had come to crave like a man starved of sunlight.

The wind stirred between you, ruffling your feathers, tugging at his shadows. Day and night, converging in this in-between moment.

You smiled, the kind of smile that was not just an answer but a promise. Your hand covered his, pressing his palm flat against your cheek, grounding him in the warmth of you.

“You were always worthy, Azriel,” you murmured. “You only needed to see it.”

And as the night settled in, as the stars blinked into existence overhead, Azriel knew, deep in his soul, that this was no longer about keeping himself safe. It was about taking that step forward, even into the unknown. He loved you. And for the first time, he was willing to believe that love could heal, not hurt.

The darkness of his past still lingered, and it always would—but now, beside you, he could finally see past the night.

Four hundred and fifty years, and you’d never set foot outside of the Day Court. Why would you?

The sun had always been your home, its warmth woven into your very essence. The golden sands, the vast orchards, the shimmering lakes that reflected the endless sky—you had everything you needed. The light had never failed you, never given you a reason to leave.

Until now. Until him.

Azriel stood beside you at the edge of a balcony, his figure a dark silhouette against the glow of the Velaris skyline. The city stretched below, vibrant and alive, its lanterns twinkling like stars, the soft hum of the Sidra echoing in the distance. He had asked you—gently, as he always did when it came to things that mattered—to come with him. Just for a little while. Just to see what existed beyond the eternal sun. And for the first time in four and a half centuries, you had said yes.

The moment you stepped into Velaris, the change was immediate.

The air was cool, crisp, and laced with the scent of rain on stone, the scent of something not quite like the sun-warmed earth you were used to. The sky, painted in deep purples and indigos, stretched above a city that glowed—not with sunlight, but with the soft flicker of lanterns and the warm golden light spilling from windows. It was a softness you weren’t used to, a stark contrast to the harsh brightness of your own world.

It was so different.

You inhaled sharply, your body reacting before your mind could process it. You instinctively curled inward, your wings flicking out slightly as though trying to shield you from the unfamiliar cold. But before you could say a word, something warm and heavy settled over your shoulders.

Azriel’s cloak.

“You’ll get used to it,” he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet amusement, though there was something deeper behind it—a tenderness, something protective. Something he had only shown to you.

You turned your head to look at him, meeting his steady gaze, and saw him watching you, his dark eyes tracing every emotion that flickered across your face. There was something magnetic about the way he studied you—like he saw all of you, even the parts you had never shown anyone else. You exhaled, shaking your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“You don’t feel it?” you asked, your voice quiet and almost uncertain.

“The cold?” Azriel asked, his wings shifting slightly as he adjusted his stance. “Not like you do.”

You hummed thoughtfully, adjusting the cloak around you, letting its warmth seep into your skin. “You should have feathers, then.”

Azriel blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment. Then, a soft laugh escaped him. “I should, huh?”

You nodded, your gaze shifting from him to your own wings. The contrast between you was so apparent now—his wings like midnight shadows, smooth and leathery, while yours shimmered in the dim light, golden feathers catching the glow of the city.

“You’d look ridiculous with them,” you mused, a playful glint in your eye.

Azriel tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased back.

His smirk deepened, and the playful challenge in his eyes made your heart flutter. With a slow, deliberate motion, Azriel extended a hand toward you, his silent invitation hanging between you. It was a promise, a quiet assurance that, just as you had guided him in the Day Court, he would now guide you through this strange new world.

Before you had even set foot in Velaris, Azriel had come to Rhysand with the request to let you into the city. The High Lord, ever the schemer with a knowing glint in his eyes, had agreed without hesitation. He trusted you. The Inner Circle trusted you. And though Rhysand’s approval had been granted, it was Azriel’s belief in you that mattered most.

Despite the unfamiliar chill of Velaris, despite the strangeness of the city and the night around you, you took his hand without hesitation. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, his presence a grounding force in the whirlwind of everything new.

And you followed.

Every step you took with him brought you deeper into the heart of Velaris, into his home. Even as the city wrapped around you with its soft, vibrant glow, there was something about Azriel’s steady, unwavering presence that made the unfamiliar feel more like home.

As you walked through the streets of Velaris, everything seemed so different from what you had been told. For centuries, the whispers had painted the Night Court in dark, ominous tones, a place filled with shadow and secrecy. But standing here, beneath the dusky sky lit with a thousand twinkling stars, you knew that everything you’d heard was nothing more than the distortions of fear.

The streets were alive. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the sound of children running playfully through the cobblestone streets, their energy infectious. The buildings that lined the streets were bathed in the soft, golden glow of lanterns, and the Sidra rippled peacefully in the distance, its waters reflecting the stars. It was a city of life, not darkness, and it filled your heart with warmth.

You had never seen such joy—such pure, unrestrained happiness. It was a far cry from the serenity of the Day Court. The children, wild and free, played without care. Some of them waved at Azriel as you passed, their faces lighting up in recognition, while others simply stared at you, wide-eyed.. Your presence felt... different here, as though you didn’t just walk through the streets but shone through them. Golden light flickered along your skin as if the stars themselves had taken up residence in your being.

Azriel, ever the protector, noticed the way the children watched you—eyes wide with awe, captivated by the sheer brilliance of your presence. His wings twitched slightly, the familiar feeling of protectiveness stirring in him, but there was something else this time. There was pride, too. Pride that they could see, even for just a moment, how magnificent you were. That they could witness what he had come to know so intimately—the light that radiated from you, the beauty that filled every space you entered.

He said nothing as they stared, as some of the children whispered excitedly to each other, their faces lighting up in wonder. He simply kept walking beside you, his presence a steady warmth against the chill of the city air, the pride in his heart unwavering. You were his, and everyone here, in this place he called home, would learn to see what he had known for years: that you were meant to shine.

When you finally arrived at the townhouse, a wave of relief washed over you. It felt like him. As Azriel closed the door behind you both, you moved toward him, wrapping your arms around him from behind, pulling him into an embrace. His body stiffened for a brief moment before melting into your touch, his own arms coming up to encircle you. You felt his chest rise and fall with a shaky breath, and in that moment, everything felt perfect. He fit so naturally in your arms.

Azriel turned in your embrace, cupping your face gently, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt, but finding none. His thumb traced the line of your jaw before his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had built together, of the years that had led to this moment. His lips tasted like home, like everything you had ever wanted and more.

When you pulled away, his hands lingered on your skin, as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I have something for you,” Azriel said, his voice low, and something in the way he said it made your heart flutter with anticipation.

Curious, you followed him to his room, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet of the townhouse. As you stepped inside, you were immediately drawn to the middle of the room, where a set of clothes and leathers lay neatly on a pair of chests. You raised an eyebrow in surprise as Azriel watched you closely, his eyes filled with a quiet excitement.

The leather was deep black, almost indistinguishable from the shadows themselves, but it shimmered with intricate gold embroidery of a sun, its rays curling like tendrils across the fabric. The stitching was delicate but purposeful, capturing the essence of light in a way that left you breathless. You could feel the weight of the craftsmanship, the care that had gone into making them.

He watched as you knelt down to touch the fabric, your fingers brushing over the soft leather. When you checked the inside, you realized it was insulated—perfect for the chill of Velaris. He had thought of everything.

“You know me too well,” you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“Don’t forget this,” Azriel continued, moving to the side of the room, where a velvet dress hung. It was a deep, rich gold, the fabric so soft it almost seemed to shimmer in the light. Black accents adorned it—lace at the collar, delicate patterns embroidered across the hem. The contrast between the gold and black was striking, and you could already imagine how it would feel against your skin.

Azriel stepped closer, a soft smile playing at his lips. “ I knew you’d get cold. Don’t want you finding warmth within anyone except you and I.”

You laughed, the sound filling the room, and with a quick motion, you reached up to kiss him. But before he could react, you pushed him back onto the bed, your playful grin spreading across your face.

Azriel let out a startled huff, his body falling back onto the soft sheets. He reached out, grabbing for you, but you were already slipping away, your eyes filled with mischief. The softness of the moment lingered between you as you stood above him, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your shared laughter.

In that moment, nothing else existed. It was just you, him, and a love that felt as if it had always been meant to be.

...

Over the years, Azriel had noticed that you seemed to be fond of Velaris. Perhaps it was because you’d lived in the Day Court your entire long life, or maybe it was because Velaris made you feel more free. Sure, you had Helion in the Day Court, who had always been more like an uncle than a father, and the fact that you were technically older than him never ceased to amuse you both. But here, in Velaris, in the townhouse, you felt like you had the chance to be part of a real family.

The hum of warmth from the fire in the hearth was a constant presence as you spent your days with the Inner Circle. The dinners around the large table in the dining room had become something you looked forward to—a place where laughter flowed freely and the light of the flames flickered in the faces of those you now considered family. The smell of freshly cooked meals—Rhysand’s endless experiments with new flavors and Amren’s refined touch in the smallest of details—had become familiar. It was a home, the scent of food and wine mixing with the sounds of their voices filling every room.

After a week of sparring with Cassian and Azriel, learning the rhythm of their moves, your body had begun to adjust to the new style of fighting. Cassian’s encouragement, Azriel’s patient corrections—both had become staples of your daily routine. Yet, it was the moments spent with Amren that you cherished most. The quiet afternoons where you two would sit in companionable silence, the fire casting shadows on the walls, and Amren’s stories about the ancient times of the Fae were enough to make you feel as though you had known this family for lifetimes.

And still, even in the midst of all the joy and the softness of it all, the pull of the Day Court remained—a place where the gardens and the sun’s warmth always beckoned. But now, Velaris had a piece of you. And tonight, you had prepared something special for them.

The room was filled with the delicious scent of your cooking—a blend of spices and herbs that had been carefully chosen, much like the way you’d been welcomed into this home. As the table was set, the warmth from the candles reflected in everyone’s eyes, the flickering light creating an almost magical atmosphere.

And yet, there was something else, too. You could feel the lingering hum in your chest, the familiar pull of your powers, quietly waiting beneath the surface. You’d been so content, so at ease here with them, that it was almost as though your abilities were waiting for the right moment to make themselves known.

Cassian, ever the troublemaker, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “You know,” he said, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass, “we’ve never seen your powers. When we first met you, Azriel almost pissed his pants just being in the same room as you.”

Azriel’s wings twitched, and he shot a glare at Cassian, his shadows curling like tendrils of smoke, responding to the shift in the air. “I don’t remember it exactly like that,” Azriel grumbled, though his voice was laced with fondness, as he sent a quick, playful poke of his shadows toward Cassian, causing the general to flinch.

You smiled at the banter, letting the lightness of it all fill you. It was familiar, comforting, in a way that was entirely new.

“Well,” you said, standing up and stretching, “if you’re all so curious, I’d love to show you.”

The room grew still for a moment, as if the space itself held its breath. The flickering of the fire and the candlelight seemed to dim, the shadows stretching and bending at the edges. You could feel the pull of your power, the warmth of it coiling within you like the golden threads of sunlight, drawing you into the very air.

The temperature in the room shifted, growing warmer, the light beginning to ripple and pulse as you let it rise from within. You felt it now—like an old friend—coursing through your veins, filling the room with the soft, golden glow of the sun.

The warmth spread across your skin, illuminating everything in its path. Your wings fluttered lightly, the gold and amber of your feathers glinting in the light, casting ripples of color around the room like the dance of sunlight on water. Tendrils of light moved with purpose, curling through the air in slow, graceful patterns, as if the sun had woven itself around your body. It was as if the room itself was caught in the embrace of your energy, the shadows retreating as the warmth enveloped everything.

The Inner Circle watched in stunned silence. Cassian’s teasing grin faltered, his eyes wide, and even Rhysand, usually so composed, allowed a flicker of surprise to show on his face. Amren, ever the silent observer, gave a low whistle, her sharp eyes gleaming with approval.

But it was Mor who spoke first, her voice soft with awe. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, her eyes reflecting the golden light that surrounded you.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at the compliment. But Cassian, ever the joker, leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Careful, Mor. Az might think you’re trying to get with his girl.”

Azriel’s shadows immediately shot toward Cassian, as if to scold him for his teasing. But you could see the slight tightening of his jaw, the possessiveness that he tried to mask. Azriel’s gaze flickered to you, and in that moment, you could see the silent question in his eyes. Would you ever leave him?

You chuckled, the golden glow around you flickering in amusement. “Relax, Cassian,” you said, voice light and teasing. “Mor’s just admiring my power. I can hardly blame her.”

Mor winked at you, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re right,” she said, her gaze never leaving you. “You’ve got an incredible gift.”

Azriel relaxed slightly at your words, but his gaze never left you. You were surrounded by warmth, not just from your own light, but from the acceptance and admiration of the people who had become family.

You took a deep breath, letting the light recede slowly, the warmth still radiating gently from you. The room returned to its natural warmth, but there was a lingering glow, like the fading warmth of the sun after it sets.

Cassian, still recovering from the display, shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Okay, that was something else.”

Rhysand chuckled, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “You’ve been holding out on us, haven’t you?”

Amren rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small, knowing smile. “She’s still holding out. I’ve seen her do much more.”

You laughed softly, the glow around you flickering with amusement as you winked at Amren. “I figured it was about time. Besides,” you added, glancing at Azriel, “I don’t think anyone should be in the dark about something this beautiful.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, and for a long moment, everything felt still. He crossed the room in two steps, reaching for you, his fingers gently brushing your cheek before cupping your face. His touch was grounding, a quiet reassurance, and you melted into it. His lips met yours softly, lingering for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

And in that moment, you knew: this was where you belonged—here, with them, with Azriel. The power you had, the love you shared—it was all part of you now, woven into the tapestry of this new family you had found.

Azriel had just returned from a long, arduous mission—one that had taken him deep into the shadows of distant courts, gathering whatever whispers and rumors he could about the general named Amarantha. She was said to be a force to be reckoned with, a weapon whose power could rival the might of the Fae themselves. But every spy and informant he’d spoken to had told him the same thing: while the rumors were growing, the war wasn’t going to erupt for some time. It was all just talk, whispers in the dark. Nothing imminent.

For once, Azriel allowed himself to breathe easy. After weeks of travel, research, and the constant pressure of worrying that the worst was right around the corner, he had finally returned to Velaris.

He hadn’t come back to the Inner Circle’s townhouse immediately; instead, he’d allowed himself a small gift of quiet. A walk through the streets of the city, just the two of you. He could already feel the tightness in his chest slowly unraveling as you laughed at something ridiculous he’d said, your presence grounding him in a way nothing else could. It felt good—so good—to just be here, walking in the sunlight with you, far from the tension and bloodshed he’d left behind.

You, with your golden wings fluttering lightly behind you, basked in the warmth of the sun, and Azriel couldn’t help but stare at you. The world around you seemed to glow brighter when you were close, the golden strands of your hair catching the light in such a way that it almost looked as though you were glowing from within. Your smile was easy, carefree, and for the first time in a long while, Azriel allowed himself to enjoy this.

He thought about the information he had gathered. About the war that was brewing between the courts. About Amarantha, whose name sent shivers through the shadows that clung to Azriel’s very soul. He had returned with knowledge that could change everything—but for now, he pushed it aside. No need to think about it yet.

For now, he was home.

The two of you walked together, your laughter mixing with the sounds of Velaris—children playing in the streets, merchants calling out their wares, the gentle hum of the Sidra River winding through the city. Azriel’s dark wings rested comfortably behind him, their usual tension gone for the moment. The weight on his shoulders, the responsibility that always pressed down on him, had lessened.

It was easy, almost too easy, to forget the storm clouds that loomed just out of sight. But for once, Azriel allowed himself to be fully present in the moment, enjoying your company, letting go of the constant vigilance he had lived with for so long. He’d been with you through so many battles, but today, he didn’t have to worry about anything except you.

But then, the shift came. It was subtle at first—an almost imperceptible change in the air. But Azriel, ever the shadow, felt it before anything else. His muscles tensed, and his steps slowed as he glanced toward you, his eyes narrowing slightly. The warmth of the day seemed to drain from the air, replaced with something cold, something heavy. The world felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

And then you felt it too.

The soft breeze carrying the sweet smells of Velaris began to still. The warm sun above you turned cold—an eerie chill crawling across your skin. The cobblestones beneath your feet seemed to lose their warmth, and the air around you thickened, pressing in from all sides. It was the same kind of weight you felt before a storm, only this time, there was no storm in sight. Only an unsettling silence.

Your heart started to race. You tried to breathe, but the air felt too thick, too heavy to fill your lungs.

Azriel stopped walking beside you, his body going rigid. The playful, easy tension between you both evaporated, replaced by something much darker. His wings shifted behind him, stretching as if sensing something dangerous in the air. The small, almost imperceptible pull at the base of your chest—like the world itself was trying to drag you away from this moment—grew stronger. You instinctively took a step back, your feet grounding you, but your wings fluttered, restless and agitated.

Azriel’s head snapped toward you, his gaze locking with yours, the intensity of his stare making your stomach twist. "Did you…" His voice was low, tight, as if he was trying to keep his own fear at bay. His hand reached for yours instinctively, the warmth of his skin against yours grounding you, if only for a moment.

Before you could answer, you felt it—a powerful shift in the air, like a ripple in the fabric of reality itself. It wasn’t just the city, the world around you—it was something far deeper, something ancient.

You froze, feeling the tug deep inside you, a pull toward the Day Court. Your pulse quickened, fear sparking in your veins as the connection to the Court grew stronger, darker.

Azriel’s face paled, his breath catching. "Something’s wrong" he breathed again, his voice a mix of disbelief and fear.

“I feel it,” you whispered, your voice shaking. Your wings twitched, restless, desperate to take flight. “Something’s happening. I need to go.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, his face a mask of determination and concern. “No. Stay here, with me. Velaris is safe,” his voice was pleading as he spoke your name in a rush, “I can protect you. Please.”

But you could already feel the distance growing between you and him, the pull toward the Day Court too strong, too urgent to ignore. You tried to steady yourself, to focus, but the instinct to leave, to move toward whatever danger was awaiting you, was overpowering.

You cupped his face in your hands, grounding him in the moment, in the unspoken promise you had made to always be there for him. His eyes softened for the briefest moment, but they still carried the weight of his fear for you, for everything that could happen.

“Angel, please.” His voice broke as he searched your gaze, his shadows swirling beneath his words like the storm in his mind.

You pressed your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. "Azriel… I will always be somewhere you can reach," you whispered, your voice firm, despite the dread gnawing at your insides. "But I can’t stay here."

His eyes flickered with a pain so raw it made your chest ache. "Please…"

With a final, lingering kiss, your lips brushed his one last time. The air around you felt electric, charged with the intensity of the moment, of everything unsaid between you.

You pulled away from him slowly, your wings unfurling behind you, catching the last rays of sunlight. Without another word, you took off, your body soaring into the sky, the wind rushing around you, carrying you away from the only place that had ever felt like home. The city of Velaris disappeared beneath you, its golden glow now a distant memory.

Azriel stood motionless, his heart pounding, his hands still trembling with the weight of the moment. He closed his eyes, the image of you—flying away, just out of reach—burned into his mind.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Rhysand’s voice crashed into his mind, urgent and sharp.

“Az. Find Cassian. Protect Velaris.”

Azriel’s breath hitched. He had to move, had to act. His wings snapped open as he winnowed away, his mind racing, but all he could think about, all that lingered in his chest, was how much he wished he had kept you with him, how much he wished you had never left.

a/n: AHHHHH WHY DID I START SUCH A HARD FIC PROJECT, gonna hate myself in a month cuz of this. lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part!! this is totally just my brain child i have a solid plot but i might be too lazy to write all of it. i haven't really seen meany tog/acotar crossover x readers so that's what this is hope you like it pookies <33

[acourtofquestions]

Maeve: I will kill you all and destroy everything you love! Prepare to meet your imminent doom!

Lorcan: I don't like our chances.

Elide: What are our chances?

Aedion: We don't have any.

Aelin: Those odds sound good enough for me! *runs off to utter chaos*

Rowan: *cartoon dust marks, already gone with Aelin*

Manon: *looks after Aelin, glances to Dorian, shrugs, slips irons nails*

Dorian: might as well! (Since no one lets me plan anyway) — I’M COMING MY WITCHLING!!! *bounces after Manon*

Ansel: Sounds like fun to me! *skips*

Aedion: *rolls neck* Eh, why not?

Lysandra: *already in leopard form* licks lips in agreement & pounces off

Fenrys: *already grabbing machetes & dissapearing like a crazed child*

Gavriel: … Did no one hear the part about imminent DOOM?

Fenrys: *apparates in* oh we heard! That’s what makes it fun! Besides there’s a 0 chance we’ll be just fine, what could be wrong with that?

Elide: … does no one here understand statistics?

Lorcan: *face down head-desk-ed*

[cassianandfenrysaremyboyos]

Honestly so sexy of the Throne of Glass fae to have fangs

[slytherin-pen]

Decisions, Decisions

pairing: Cadre x Reader

word count: 901

warnings: none

a/n: written for day 7 of @polysjmweek

The weight of the decision you had to make was suffocating. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every shared laugh with one of them only twisted the knife deeper. Rowan, strong and steady. Lorcan, dark and unyielding. Gavriel, warm and understanding. And Fenrys, all humor and quiet devotion.

You loved them. All of them. And the truth of it was a heavy thing.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You trained your magic with Rowan, sparred with Lorcan, confided in Gavriel, and let Fenrys coax laughter from you when the world felt too heavy. But the deeper your feelings grew, the more impossible it became to keep pretending that you could pick one and live with it. The idea of choosing one meant losing the others, breaking the hearts of warriors who had already lost too much.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You pulled away.

It wasn’t immediate, but they noticed—of course they noticed. The Cadre was perceptive, predators honed by centuries of battle. You were not as skilled at hiding as you wanted to believe.

Rowan was the first to press you on it. He wasn’t unkind, but his sharp green eyes pinned you in place after he cornered you in the living room. “You’re avoiding us.”

“What?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Before Rowan could respond the others walked into the room, settling themselves on the couches. Lorcan sat next to Rowan, and Fenrys and Gavriel sat on either side of you.

Lorcan’s arms were crossed, dark brows drawn low as he glowered. “You’ve been distant.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath, trying to school your features to hide what you truly felt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gavriel’s gaze was softer but no less intense. “Don’t lie to us. Tell us what’s going on, love.”

Fenrys didn’t say anything at first. He just moved his hand to your thigh, swiping his thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. Breaking down your defenses.

You swallowed hard, hands curling into fists. “I—” You hesitated, blood whooshing in your ears. “I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean?”

Your breath came uneven. “I can’t pick.” The words tumbled out, raw and painful. “I can’t pick just one of you to love. Because I love all of you. And I know it’s selfish and wrong, and I know it’ll hurt to have to choose, but I—” Your voice cracked, eyes burning. “I don’t know how to live with breaking my own heart, let alone yours.”

Fenrys laughed. It wasn’t cruel, wasn’t mocking. It was relieved. You blinked at him as he grinned. “Is that what’s been tearing you up inside?”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Rowan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You fool.”

Lorcan’s scowl had softened just a fraction. “You think we’d make you choose?”

You blinked. “You—what?”

Gavriel scooted closer to you on the couch, taking one of your hands in his. “Do you truly think we haven’t spoken about this?” His tawny eyes gleamed with humor. “That we haven’t noticed how you look at all of us? How we look at you?”

The room felt too small, your chest too tight. “But—you can’t be serious.”

Rowan huffed. “We are.”

Fenrys leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve been waiting for you to catch up, sweetheart.”

Your brain stalled. They had… talked about this?

Rowan, so reserved. Lorcan, who barely tolerated most people. Gavriel, the most level-headed of them all. And Fenrys, wild and untamed. They had spoken about loving you, about sharing you, and they were fine with it?

You opened your mouth to say something else but all that came out was a strangled sound.

Fenrys grinned. “We broke her.”

Gavriel chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe, lioness”

Your heart thundered. “You’re all okay with this? Really?”

Rowan’s gaze softened. “We are.”

Lorcan’s voice was rough but sure. “We’ve always shared a bond. You were just the missing piece.”

Fenrys tilted his head. “So tell us, sweetheart—why choose?”

You exhaled shakily, warmth flooding your chest.

“Come here,” Gavriel murmured, opening his arms.

You crawled into his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. His large, calloused hands came up to cradle your head and rub your back.

“There’s no need to stress yourself out so much, love. We have all been together for so long. Through war and through arguments. But most importantly, we trust each other. To respect each other, to love and take care of you,” Gavriel said.

You wiped at the tears trailing down your cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, honey,” Fenrys said sympathetically. He moved closer to you and Gavriel on the couch, taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. “We’re sure. I hate seeing you so upset.”

Rowan moved from his seat to crouch in front of you. “You don’t need to worry about the logistics of it. You let us take care of that. Take care of you, you understand?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you whispered.

It felt like you could breathe for the first time in months. It was overwhelming knowing that all four of these males wanted you, but most importantly, were willing to share you. Because like Fenrys said, why choose?

[shadowdaddies]

love, can you write something really spicy for gavriel? i love how soft he is, i need him to be a whimpering mess

Gavriel is the DILFiest of all DILFs change my mind

Every Part

Gavriel x f!Reader smut

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, minors dni

Leaning against the doorframe separating your bedroom from the bathroom, you watched Gavriel, who sat shirtless on your bed, seemingly deep in thought as he looked down at the tattooed names along his body. 

Your heart sank, knowing that look all too well. The kindest, most devoted male you’d ever met, who was so hard on himself for any mistake. He never forgot the names of those he couldn’t save, something that tortured him, yet it was one of the parts of him that you loved most. 

“Gavriel,” you purred, hips swaying as you prowled towards him. His tawny eyes flicked to yours, lined with a sorrow that you couldn’t bear to see. Stopping in front of him, you cradled his face in your hands, leaning your forehead against his. “I love you,” you whispered, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before you trailed along his sharp jawline, down his throat. 

A groan escaped Gavriel as you licked a stripe along his collarbone, biting the tanned skin at the base of his throat. Rolling your hips into his with increasing desperation, you pushed him back on the mattress, lifting up to admire the glazed look in his eyes, his golden hair splayed out beneath him. “I love you,” he murmured, tucking your own hair behind an ear as he looked up at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes.

With a wicked smirk, you kissed your way down his body, stopping to lick and suck on each of his abs as your nails raked down his sides. A gasp left Gavriel’s lips, hips jerking beneath your touch as you reached the waistband of his pants. “Please, let me touch you, love,” he ground out, his voice husky with desire. 

A soft laugh escaped you at his plea, the simple shake of your head your only answer for him as you dragged his pants down, clawing his legs as you sank lower. Stepping back, you looked down at the strong male, completely bare beneath you as he pleaded for more of your touch. 

You reveled in the whimper that left his lips as you kissed your way up his thigh, his hard cock emanating heat as you hovered over him, soft teasing breaths causing him to buck up towards you. With a sharp laugh, you pinned his hips to the bed. “Let me go at my pace, or I will stop,” you breathed in warning.

Gavriel stilled at your words, muscles tightening as the male attempted to obey. A sick satisfaction ran through you at his desire to please, which surged your own. You lowered yourself, breasts rubbing against his thighs as your tongue licked a stripe over the slit of his cock, moaning at the salty taste of precum on your tongue. 

His cock twitched in your hold as you sucked on the tip, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could. Gagging as he hit the back of your throat, you brought one hand to reach the length that your mouth couldn’t, sucking harshly as you thrust your tongue up and down his shaft, pumping your hand. You moaned as he thrust into your hand, panting as he gripped your hair. 

Gavriel pulled you off of him, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. “Not yet,” he choked out, pulling you up his body. You ground your hips against him, head falling into the crook of his neck at the relief. “Please, let me pleasure you,” Gavriel whispered, licking a stripe up the shell of your ear. 

You nodded, limp in his hands as he flipped you onto your back. Effortlessly ripping off your nightgown, Gavriel pinned your wrists above your head as he sucked harshly on your neck. You moaned, eyes rolling back as he moved down your body, tongue flicking out against your right nipple, teeth grazing over the sensitive bud before he moved to the other. You writhed under his hold, babbling pleas for more as he released your wrists, moving down to grip your thighs open as he inhaled the scent of your arousal.

Gasping, you squirmed under his hold as Gavriel licked a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. “So sweet,” he murmured, diving into your heat. Gavriel sucked on your clit, canines digging in on either side as you pulsed under his lips. His tongue flicked out, the friction of his tongue in contrast with his spit soothing your sensitive core. 

Your back arched as he dipped his tongue into your center, the hot muscle caressing your walls as you clenched around him. Gavriel laughed, a feline smirk gracing his lips as he continued his assault on you, lips and teeth brushing your clit as he pushed a finger inside of you, curling against your sensitive walls. 

A tightness coiled in your gut, breaths becoming shallow as he worked you through your orgasm. Gavriel’s own hips rutted against the bed as you screamed his name, panting for air as you tugged him up towards you. You pulled him into you, tasting yourself on his lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hard cock rubbing against your center in sinful delight.

“Fuck, Gavriel, please,” you mewled, arching into him, desperate for any friction you could get. He hung his head, grunting at your movements as he found the strength to bring his cock to your entrance, rubbing the head against your pussy. You bit your lip, lifting your hips towards him in a silent request.

Gavriel slid into you, a slightly painful stretch as always while he settled inside, stretching your core. You nodded, urging him to begin moving as Gavriel pounded into you, lewd moans escaping as you braced your hands above you to avoid hitting the headboard. You clenched around his cock, the only warning before you crashed into your orgasm, the feeling of his thumb against your clit dizzying as you writhed helplessly under his thrusts. 

Gavriel came soon after, a roaring cry leaving his lips as his hot cum spilled inside of you, both of you lost to pleasure as his thrusts turned sloppy. “So good for me,” he murmured, lowering to kiss down your neck as he stilled inside of you. 

You wrapped your legs around Gavriel’s waist, keeping him there for as long as he let you before rolling away, turning you with him. Your eyes locked, a soft smile playing at your lips as you admired the beautiful, selfless male in front of you. “I love you,” you whispered again. 

Gavriel swallowed thickly, emotion dancing in his eyes as he took in the sight of you. “I love you, more than you know, my love.”

[erisvansserra]

Follow You

Fenrys x Reader x Azriel

Summery: 30 years ago, Y/N fell through a portal and woke up in Prythian naked an afraid. She counted herself lucky that she was found by the shadowsinger and his high lord, who took her in and gave her a home. Despite their hospitality she dreamed of her home and the mate she left behind, Fenrys, who searched for her until one day.. he finds her.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: OMG thank you SOOOO much for all the love! This chapter is going to be a LOONG one because I wanted to give you guys more Fenrys and y/n! enjoy!!

Warning: a little smutty

80 years before the fall.

Cold wind bit at your bare neck as you exited Rowan's war tent, he sat down besides the opening, polishing a sword casually, his eyes transfixed on the process.

"Good morning" you greeted, stretching your arm above your head as you surveyed the war camp before you. Men, horses and a sea of tents lay at your feet creating an electric atmosphere that you reveled in before a fight, however you weren't going to war this time. "Morning y/n" Rowan grunted as he flipped the sword in his hand, studying his work before he started buffing the handle "it's starting to snow, put on something warmer" he continued his eyes still homed in on his hands. You furrowed your brow and looked down at your cousin, his long white hair whipping around the back of his neck as the wind tangled in his locks. With a flick of your fingers your power surged forward, ice covered Rowan's sword, encasing it in a blue frosted glow. " I was born with ice in my veins" you say smugly, your eyes traveling past him to the training pit to the east of his tent " you forget I don't feel the cold like you do" you state as your eyes land on a tall male you have never seen before. His golden hair shone brightly in the sun, his tanned skin was slick with sweat or melted snow as a feral grin spread across his face. " Who. Is. That?" you asked your cousin, whose green eyes finally left the handle of his sword and traveled to the training pit where Gavriel was training with the unnamed male. "Nobody" he grumbled " I think I'll go intodruce myself" you say and begin walking towards the pit, knowing full well your overprotective cousin was a shadow against your back, walking with you in stoic silence. As your boots hit the outer rim of the training pit your eyes were locked onto the unknown male, gods he was beautiful. His onyx eyes didn't leave Gavriel's as they sparred, his muscled chest and torso captivated you as it glistened in the morning sun. He pivoted and danced around Gavriel's advancing sword. You felt Rowan's looming presence behind you, casting a large shadow over your frame as your eyes tracked the male in front of you. Gavriel whirled, his sword meeting the other males in a loud clash of iron on iron, the unknown male smiled and twisted left his sword nicking Gavriel's sleeve before the older male turned and kicked the younger male in the chest sending him to the ground. Gavriel held up a hand then motioned for the young man to stand and grab some water. "Do not.. say anything stupid" Rowan growled softly in your ear as the two males walked over "I won't embarrass you cousin, now shut up and introduce me". " Hello y/n" Gavriel greeted as he walked towards you, his shirt clung to his torso with sweat. "Hello Gavriel, are you well?" you asked sweetly looking up to your ex-trainer. When you were younger, Rowan had asked Gavriel to take over your training so you could learn to fight in your animal form. Gavriel being a mountain lion and you being a panther, his training was specially focused on all the ways to bring down the enemy while taking advantage of your animal's strength. "As well as I can be" he answered giving you a warm smile, you didn't even notice the two males that walked to either side of Gavriel. Your eyes darted the male from earlier and a equally as good looking brunette as they joined your conversation. Gavriel's smile widened as he saw the look on your face, his eyes darting up to look at Rowan, who you knew was frowning behind you. The golden haired male gave you a small smile, his onyx eyes raking up your body before meeting your eyes " I don't believe we've met" he said taking a step forward and offering his hand " I'm Fenrys". You placed your hand in his, your breath hitching in your throat as he clasped your fingers between his own and brought the back of your hand to his lips. Rowan growled from behind you and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down Fenrys. "I'm Y/n" you said more breathlessly than you intended, Fenrys ignored Rowans warning growl and gestured to the male next to Gavriel " this is my brother Connall, but believe me, he isn't as fun as I am" Fenrys said with a smirk that created butterflys in your stomach.

"If you're done" Rowan bit out from behind you " I think y/n and I were going out for a ride" he continued as his hand grips your forearm and pulls you away from the three males. Your head whips from your cousin to the three males, you catch Gavriel trying to suppress his smile as he watched Rowan tug you towards the waiting horses. For the next few days you didn't see much of Fenrys, stolen glances as you passed each other in camp or across the fire from dinner. On this particular night you sat next to Rowan as the cadre told war stories in front of a booming fire on the outskirts of camp. Gavriel had made a vegetable soup for the group, that you drank down in three mouthfuls. Training made you incredibly hungry. You tried to keep your eyes on Lorcan as he told the same boring story again of how he saved Rowan from certain death over a century ago. But your eyes kept finding Fenrys's from across the dancing flames. His onyx eyes looked like burning coals as the fire lapped at his features, his golden skin features shadowed in darkness as the fire fluttered before him. You quickly looked away to your cousin, Fenrys, who was starting to revel in how nervous he made you looked back to Lorcan and pretended to pay attention. " The pup keeps looking at me" you said quietly to your cousin as he brought his bowl to his lips with one hand and drank the rest of his soup. "I've noticed" he grunted in his usual tone as he set the bowl at his feet. " Don't be grumpy, I'm freaking out... should I go talk to him?" you ask, your eyes slightly widening as you looked to your cousin for guidance. He, however looked at you like you had asked the stupidest question in the world. "Don't be stupid, let's not forget the drama you caused when you slept with Vaughan" he said straightening his back again and resting his elbows on his knees. "Oh, that was like 25 years ago... you and he need to get over it" you said with a swipe of your hand dismissing that ungracious comment. " You almost killed him when you caught him with that girl" Rowan jested, a small smile forming on his face as he recalled ripping you off Vaughan, your knife so close to the warriors neck you had just nicked it. You smiled in return and allowed a small chuckle to escape your lips " I think that was your proudest moment" you said, leaning over and handing Rowan a cup of wine that had been served with dinner. His smile grew as he took the cup from your fingers and held it between his own, the fire light dancing in his green eyes as he hummed in response.

The conversation died between the two of you, it wasn't long before the males that sat around the fire retired to bed. Gavriel's hand ruffling your hair affectionately as he walked past you to his tent and went to rest. You were on guard duty until the sun peaked its head over the horizon, then someone would take your place and you would be able to rest before the camp moved further down its path to war.

Only no one came to relieve you, so you sat all night and morning on guard. When time came to leave, Rowan used it as a training tactic, earning glares from the rest of the cadre, save Lorcan who thought it was a great idea. You were on a dirt road by midday, the gravel crunching under your boots as you walked next to Rowan and his horse, the army of 10,000 strong fae warriors around you marching to war. The cold wind bit at your face and hands as your cousin muttered comments about how sloppy you've gotten, that in the past you could stay up all night and run 10 miles on no rest. You ignored him, your body aching and your eyes threatening to close at any given moment. " Jog up to Gavriel and then back" Rowan ordered with a dip of his chin, you threw your head back and audibly groaned "Rowan I am tired" you said with a pained voice " I need to rest".

"Like I care" he huffed and used his boot to push you into a jog, you scowled back to him and started your slow, pained jog to Gavriel's black mare. When you reached him, you rested your hand on his calf startling the fae warrior slightly "Gods you look like shit" he muttered casting his gaze back to Rowan. " I feel like it" you muttered back, your steps becoming sloppy as you tried to keep up with his horse. Gavriel's eyes looked down to you and softened, he lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled to Fenrys who was on his white stallion up-ahead. The white wolf looked over his shoulder and saw you, his eyes lit up as he turned his horse and trotted down the line, flanking your other side. You didn't register what was happening until you felt Fenrys's hand under your arm, ripping you onto his saddle and against his chest. Suddenly, you were no longer tired, your eyes practically popped out of your head as you felt his strong chest pressed against your back. "uhh" you said trying to find some words to say but they escaped you, you were just happy Fenrys couldn't see how red your face had turned at his touch. But Gavriel did, he smiled brightly at you as you made eye contact with your ex-trainer. His eyes darting up to Fenrys before instructing him " make sure the princess gets some rest, when there is a fork in the road wake her up so she may continue her journey". Gavriel's eyes landed on you again, he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your knee before whispering "you're welcome" and riding off to take the spot in the group Fenrys left free. "You can relax princess, I won't bite" Fenrys purred as he leaned down, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You hadn't realised how rigged you were, your hands balled into fists on your lap, your posture straight and narrow like you were at court. With a shuddering breath you eased into Fenrys, pressing the back of your head against his shoulder as his hand came across your front and tucked you closet to him, his other hand holding the reigns of his horse. "So" he said after a little while, noticing you hadn't fallen asleep yet " If you're not going to war with us, where are you going?" he asked, his onyx eyes looking down at you as you rested against him. You pointed a delicate hand to the mountain range ahead of you, his eyes followed and flared in surprise when he noted your destination. " When my father died and my mother was unfit to take care of me anymore, I went to live with Rowan and my aunt and uncle" you explained " my father was buried in his village with his father and his father before him, I'm going to visit" "Do you visit your father's grave often?" "As often as I can"

You felt Fenrys nod against you taking in your story. "Do you miss them? your parents?" He asked carefully, his voice soft and tentative. "Yes, but... my aunt and uncle raised me... so it is them I miss more" You confess as you look up to the fae warrior pressed against your back. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and inviting as waited for you to continue. "Rowan however, when he leaves for war, I miss him the most... he is the reason I'm as strong as I am" you confess and rip your eyes away from his own, closing them as the shade of the upcoming forest started to cover you. Offering enough darkness to lull yourself to sleep. " Don't tell him though, he gets weirdly sentimental when I say stuff like that" you say while trying to stifle a yawn that slipped past your lips anyways. You felt Fenry's arm tighten around you, felt his body shift further back on his saddle to give you enough room, to make you comfortable. "I won't, get some rest, i'll wake you up when it's time" he said, his thumb drawing small circles on your hip where it rested, if you were less tired you might have blushed at his touch. The casualness of it, how natural it felt, but sleep took over. When you awoke you were in your fathers village, your head whipping from left to right as you took in your surroundings making sure you saw everything right. You felt Fenrys chuckle against your back, then he patted your thigh and jumped off the horse. "What.. How?" You asked, still atop the white stallion looking down at Fenrys with furrowed brows laced with confusion. He smiled softly up at you and dug his hands into his pockets. " I asked Gavriel where the village was, I didn't want to wake you" he said casually, his charcoal eyes never leaving yours. You were speechless, you gawked down at him in shock as you mulled over his words. He had ridden 3 hours away from the group, to let you sleep, to make sure you got enough rest before you spent time at your father's grave, you couldn't do anything to stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks. "Well I guess I'll see you around" he said kicking some gravel at his boot and turning back down the road. You watched him and shook your head, then before your eyes a bright light exploded on the road, where a man stood before a white wolf took its place. "Fen!" You called to the wolf that stopped and looked over its shoulder, you kicked the horse and turned it so you could face him " what about your horse?" you asked, bending forward and gesturing to his white stallion that huffed white smoke as the cold of the village air started to seep in. The wolf's eyes darted from the horse to you, casually it reached both its paws forward, stretching out its back with a small grunt, then without another word it padded back down the road. The unspoken words were as clear as day, he wanted you to keep it until you returned home.

5 Years Later

Travel the world, it was the one thing your aunt and uncle told you numerous times in your life. Then one day you packed up a bag and Fenrys's borrowed horse and started a solo journey though the wild. You had been gone a year now, you had sent letters to your family, Rowan included and got responses when you were in one place long enough.

But tonight, under the summer solstice moon you swam freely in the ocean, the waves lobbing you from side to side like a ship out at sea. You heard crunching on the sand, looking to the shore you spotted a white wolf, its nose imbedded in the clothes you had left in the sand, sniffing your scent. "Fenrys?" You called from the waves, catching the wolfs attention. It's ears pricked up as he sighted you in the waves, your white long sleeve shirt clinging to your bare skin as you bobbed up and down in the water. With a flash of light the wolf became a man, your breath got caught in your throat as he smiled at you from shore. His hair was long and wild, somehow, his body became more muscular in the time he was away, probably from all the fighting you thought to yourself. "What are the chances I would find you here?" He called, bringing his hands next to his mouth, cupping his lips so his voice would travel to you. You smiled and lifted a hand out of the water, gesturing to the sack of wine you had left with your belongings. " Want to join me pup?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in challenge, the wine in your system and your brooding cousin being away making you more confident around him. Fenrys raised his eyebrows as a slow charming smile spread across his face, he reached down and took the sack of wine, unscrewing it he brought it to his lips and drank deeply before tossing it back onto the sand. " I don't have a change of clothes" he shouted with a smile as he started to loosen the stings of his tunic and make his way closer to the lapping waves of the ocean. "Neither do I" you shouted back, walking closer to him as the waves pushed you along "I'm just in my under shirt" you said, a little more seductively than you intended. Fenrys's fingers fumbled slightly at your words, he looked back to your belongings, a fire raring in his ears as he spotted your bra amongst your belongings. His breath evened out, a pool of fire igniting in his stomach as he ripped his shirt off with one hand, not bothering to take off his trousers he ran into the ocean and dove beneath the waves. He emerged in front of you, his bare chest so close to you, you could see the goosebumps rising as the cold water washed over him. You smiled up at him as his eyes connected with your own, the alcohol in your blood begged you to touch him, to feel him under your touch but you knew better than to tangle with a member of the cadre. Fenrys was fighting the same internal battle, he couldn't help his wandering eyes as he stared at you from under the moonlight, your skin giving off a heavenly glow that he wanted to lose himself in. He could see your peaked nipples from under your white shirt, the cold of the water making them so tight he almost bent down to push his warm tongue against them. "So" you breathed, biting your cheek nervously " how have you been?" you ask as you kick your legs from under you. "I've been well, I heard you've been traveling?" he asked as he swims a little closer to you, the moonlight not hiding the blush from him this time. "Yeah, it's been nice just me and your horse" you say smiling.

"Ah yes, my stallion... I hope he is treating you well"

"As loyal to me as a war horse can be" you answer brushing some hair away from your face that the waves keep bringing forward. Fenrys hums in response, that intoxicating smirk plastered on his lips once more as he turns his head to look back to shore. Your eyes widen as you see the two scars that rake down the side of his face, without hesitation you reach up and run your thumb along his jaw, feeling the scars indentations in his skin. His eyes shoot back to you as you take in his wounds that stretched from the corner of his eye and down his jaw. "What happened?" you breathed. "Just got distracted during a fight, not a big deal" he shrugged as he reached behind you, forcing you to stand closer to him in the water. His smirk widened into a predators smile as he held you against him, now your skin pebbled in goosebumps. Your hand that rested on his face traveled down and found home on his chest, his heart racing behind his rib cage so hard you could see your hand moving. "You know, i've heard this bay is littered with sirens" he said, his head cocking to the side as his hands rested on your hips " beautiful women that beckon men into the sea and have their way with them before drowning them beneath the depths of the water" he said warmly, a slight look of challenge in his eyes. "Do you think I am a siren Fenrys? A woman who calls men to the sea to have my way with them?" You asked, taking that small step closer to him. You yelped in surprise as his hands that once rested on your hips now firmly held your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he picked you up. His eyelids lowered slightly, your breasts he was so longing to taste now out of the water and on full display before him. He kept one hand on your backside while the other traced up your back and tangled in your wet hair, moving you slightly so he could leave warm kisses on your skin. "I hope so" he purred into your neck as he kissed you. You felt his member grow as it pressed against you, a moan escaped your lips as you felt his hand travel to your breast and lightly pinch your nipple. Your mind raced, you didn't know what you expected when you invited him out here but it wasn't this... not that you were mad. His lips moved from your neck up to your jaw then just before your lips met his, his eyes shot wide and he dropped you taking a few steps back. Confused you reached forward and went to touch him, but he batted your hand away. Hurt, that's what you were, that's how this night would end with you being hurt. "Fenrys?" you asked, trying to gage him as he turned his back to you, his shoulders moving deeply with each breath he took. He looked over his shoulder at you, his onyx eyes locked on yours as he pressed a hand to his forehead. Then in that moment the bond snapped, like a rope that tied you two together by your ribs. You gasped and almost fell backwards in the water but you regained your balance. "This is not good" Fenrys muttered as he turned to face you again. "Excuse me?" you asked with a slight tremor in your voice, still shocked that the mating bond had snapped so suddenly. He raised his hands defensively and walked toward you, the water rippling around him as he strode effortlessly to you in the waist deep water. " That's not what I meant... It's... It's just" he fumbled his words, his hands reaching up to cup your face in the moonlight. His eyes flicked between your own as you stared at each other a mixture of disbelief and confusion etched onto each face as you peered into each others souls. "My.. role with Maeve" he said through gritted teeth like the very words he uttered were poison " is... complicated, if she knew y/n who you are to me, she will kill you" he said quietly. Your eyes widened as you tried to step out of his touch but his hand tightened keeping you still " we can reject the bond now" he offered "you don't have to offer me food or your word, we can break the bond and you won't live in danger" he said quickly, his heart

rate so fast and hard he thought he might pass out. The way he looked at you, the memories with him came flooding back, the way he kissed your hand, the way he let you rest against him, the way he stole glances across the many fires you sat at. Over the years it had been known you two had developed a crush on each other, much to Rowans dismay but now it made sense. He was your mate, from this day until your last day. "No" you said, he went to speak but you held up a hand and stopped him " the gods brought us together, that bitch you work for doesn't scare me" you stated and removed his hands from your cheeks. "I won't accept the bond until the time is right, but if you're okay with it, fen, I'd like to see where this goes" you said.

Surprised by your words, he smiled and bent down. His lips tasted like the salt water that surrounded you both, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his tongue swept your lower lip. You smiled against him then pulled away. "Don't get too excited pup, you can buy me dinner first" you smirked as you began to walk back to shore. "You didn't care a second ago when your legs were trembling against me" he jested as he came up behind you. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the shore. Fenrys let you use his discarded shirt, still dry and covered in sand as he picked up the rest of your belongings and walked you back to the cabin you were staying in. He didn't stay the night as he still had work to do, he didn't even kiss you goodbye, but you knew in your gut this was the right choice.

You waved as you parted ways, the moon casting his shadow onto the dirt road. A/N: Here it issss, I hope you liked it and you aren't missing Azriel too much hahha, he will be back next chapter I just really wanted to show fen some love