#azriel acomaf

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel���s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[thehighladywrites]

— “Do you eat pussy like that?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader

☀︎ — summary: you’re ovulating, insanely horny and thinking about putting your hands down his pants in the middle of the cafeteria

☀︎ — warnings: smut, nsfw, public display of affection, Azriel is a little stern, like a tiny bit, pussy eating, riding, ovulation

☀︎ — amara’s note: this was so fun to write, i love freaky bimbo reader, she’s so fun. also very realistic bc i too would wanna put my hands in azriel’s pants. and don’t mind the fact that this is complete nonsense. idk wtf is happening💗

series masterlist

You should’ve known azriel was an eater.

Whenever he ate, he did it like he was out of breath, inhaling his food and munching on it. He did this thing where he’d lean over his plate, shuffle food into his mouth, head tilting a little to the left, eyes closed and everything. It reminded you of the way he tilted his head when he kissed you.

He ate with such need and energy that you couldn’t help the dirty thoughts in your little brain. But it’s not even your fault, it’s his. Who the hell eats like he does?

You can't help but giggle whenever you watch Azriel eat, finding it very cute that he devours his food. It’s like, he really loves his meals, you know?

But then you remembered last night when you jumped on him while he was working on his computer. He looked so cute and focused, but his hands... so fucking hot, they looked so good. Like, seriously, how can hands be so attractive? Maybe it was the ring, maybe it was the bracelet or maybe it was because you wanted to gag on them.

You knew you were ovulating, it was no surprise. You basically turn into a succubus, hellbent on getting slutted and fucked. Azriel is there, so naturally you want him to take care of it.

I mean, who else could help you? Getting off yourself is so much work and doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he does it.

“Azzie, i missed you sosososooo much!!” you strolled towards him with a massive smile. Azriel turned around at the sound of your pink, fluffy heels klicking against the cafeteria floor.

He gave you the kindest smile as you approached him, lifting his arm so you have room to lean against him. You had different classes in the morning, so you met him for lunch. you sit next to him, scooting as close as you can. If you could, you’d sit on top of him but you were in the cafeteria so you had to settle for leaning with your face nuzzled against his neck.

There he was, eating like he always did. But today, you couldn’t stop your thoughts. He was eating too good. You wanted to tell him, so you did.

“Hi, my sweet girl. I hope you had a good lecture. What do you want to do after classes?”

You sighed. You were dangerously horny, it was a miracle you didn’t put your hand down his pant, honestly.

“Hmm, I wanna be fingered, i want my pussy ate then i wanna be fucked for hours, pretty please?” you mumbled against his neck, kissing and licking a stripe.

Azriel started coughing, nearly choking on his food.

“And, uh, another thing. D’ya eat pussy like that?” you asked with hope, a french tip pointing to his plate.

“Oh my god, uh — okay, so, baby, you — you can’t just say stuff like that in public, okay?” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing as he glanced around nervously.

“Why not? I want my boyfriend, there's no shame in it!” you declared, pursing your glossed lips, with your hands folded over your half-exposed tits.

Azriel nervously glanced around as you put a leg over his thigh. “Please help me, i’ll totally die if you don’t.”

“Okay, sure, but why are you so — um, frisky?" Azriel asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. A nervousness that increased as you pressed your tits against him.

“I don’t know what that means.” You replied, tilting your head slightly in confusion, your ditzy demeanor showing through.

“Um, sexually charged,” Azriel tried to explain, his hands moving mid-air in an attempt to convey his meaning.

“I’m ovulating, Azzie. aka i need you inside, like right in this moment — like in this second, now.” your nail tapped quickly against the dining hall’s table, a sign of your impatience. “Please stop talking nonsense, i don’t know about sexually charged, m’just horny.”

“Right, right. I read about that. Okay, let’s go. Do you want my dorm or your apartment?” Azriel questioned as he stood up, lifting you from the bench.

That little move of him lifting you without hesitation or struggle made your jaw drop. Your hands automatically moved towards his belt, and a sweet expression crossed your face as you stared up at him, completely flustered.

“Yours.”

Azriel stopped you before you could bend down and blow him infront of people. He led you by the hand, your thoughts completely cleared, except for one thought.

You were SO gonna get it.

—

He’s so gentle. The way the flat of his tongue drags between your folds is ungodly to stay the least, the lewd squelching of his tongue flicking your glistening, throbbing clit.

“You okay? Holy shit you weren’t lying, you’re incredibly wet,” his fingers come to touch you, almost slipping in with no difficulty.

“mm-yeah, m’so good. J’st keep your mouth riiiight there,” you hummed, dragging his head back as you shifted his head a little to the left. He inserted one finger, then added another before curling them, just like he was taught.

You felt his tongue press against your clit at the same time, your hands gripping his shoulders in order to not writhe away.

“ ‘s really s-sensitive, ‘nd it feels so, so good, az.” He flushes, cheeks reddened at your sweet, whines and moans.

“so sweet.. you’re so sweet, baby.” he doesn’t stop when he speaks. instead, he continues to lap at your cunt, his face evidently beginning to get wet from the mix of your slick and his saliva.

It’s so messy, but he’s loving every second of it even when your juices wet his chin and entire mouth. You’re so close to sliding off his bed with the way you’re writhing away. But it’s like you have to! If he keeps his work up, you’ll cum all over his face in seconds.

“Stop tryna run away, you haven’t even finished yet.” He drags you closer to him by your thighs as he locks his arm around your legs.

“A—azzie! s-slow down, ‘m gon-gonna cum too quick if you keep goin’.”

He doesn’t slow down, and he definitely doesn’t stop. Instead you feel his tongue lap your cunt as he sneakily bring his hand up to your clit rubbing it softly.

When you cum, he just moves you on top of him with no warning. You had been begging to ride, whining about how you’d feel fuller if you were on top. As much as Azriel loves you, your whining was making him wanna check you.

“There. Now will you be good and ride? Hm?” He squeezes your waist as you put your hands on his toned stomach with a smile.

“Mm-hm, I’ll ride.”

Azriel is left damn near paralyzed after. He is sweating, trembling, dying.

You on the other hand couldn’t possibly be more content. He had given you a good dicking :)

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @scoobies @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @berryzxx @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks @throneofsmut

if ur username is in bold, i couldn’t tag you ;(

[ervotica]

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing; azriel x fem!reader

summary; and so i cry the light is white and i see you

when your wings are taken from you in a brutal act of torture, you see no way to ease your grief. your mate is there to guide you back when you need him most.

warnings; hurt/comfort, ANGST, suicidal ideation, sorta suicide attempt, in depth descriptions of injury

The wind stings at your flushed cheeks where you stand at the edge of the rooftop. It's dark, iridescent balls of light expanding at every edge of your vision as you take a step towards the lip of the roof that overhangs from the house. Wetness clings to your eyes, threatening to spill over your itching waterline when you gaze down to the sea of lights below.

You long to feel the whip of the breeze against your face as you rise and dive into the night sky, to scream and yell at the top of your lungs as your wings flap behind you in tandem with your family.

You'll never feel that again.

You've been a shell of yourself since the day your wings were taken. Had them brutally cut from your body, hacksawed until all that remained were jagged stumps in place of gorgeous, thick corded planes of muscle. Naked. Half the person you once were. Your back is a myriad of scars, still healing and bruised, ripples of broken flesh marring your once untouched skin.

You are broken and ugly and miserable.

It took weeks to even walk again, weeks of rehabilitation, physical therapy with Madja. Weeks of sobbing in your mate's arms as he held you upright, of wanting to claw your way out of your own skin and scream and rage until something snaps you out of this living nightmare. Weeks of Azriel having to force you to eat and drink, to get outside in favour of withering away in your bed.

You're teetering on the edge of the building now, swaying in time with the gusts of air that threaten to send you toppling onto the street below.

"My love, what are you doing?" Azriel's voice breaks you out of your haze, but you don't move; you don't make any effort to step away from the edge. One wrong move from either of you and you're dead.

"I miss flying," you croak.

"I know you do." His voice oozes with pity and it sends rage hurting through your veins like the white-hot lick of a flame. You stumble, swatting Azriel's hands away when he surges forward to wrench you back. Your pulse roars in your ears and you lose focus of his speech, each pleading word blending into one another until you don't bother to decipher the words at all.

"Come back to me," he shouts over the ringing in your ears. "Come back to me, mate."

The name seizes your muscles, pours into your soul like molten lava and solidifies, heavy and unforgiving.

"Why?" you whirl around, heels hanging over thin air, nothing to break your impact were you to fall - or throw yourself - from this great height. Azriel's unnaturally still, not moving, not breathing- calculating how long it would take him to dive after you if you were to slip. "Why do you call me that? Why don't you run from me, leave me here now I'm not of use anymore."

He takes one step, and then another. Sweat beads on your brow despite the frigid chill of the night- his scarred fingers outstretched, waiting for you to take them. The golden thread inside your chest pulls taut like a bowstring. He's calling you home.

"You are my mate." he says. "I need you. Come back to me, my love."

"I'm ruined, Az." The words stick in your throat like syrup. "I'm no good to anyone, anymore. All I'll do is burden you." A sob rips through you. "You won't be happy with what I am now. I just want you to be happy."

The confession almost brings him to his knees.

Something snaps inside of him; eery calm replaces terror as he surveys you with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head.

This is not your Azriel.

This is the feared shadowsinger- who wears a mask of cool wrath, who bows to no one. A calculated facade of composure.

"You are not ruined," he growls. The glacial fury in his voice has your breath catching in your throat, your insides freezing as if his words have wrapped icy fingers around your throat. "You are my mate, and you will step down and come to me. Now."

You find yourself complying without question, moving away on wobbling legs until your limbs give out and you're tripping over your own feet, hurtling towards the ground. As fast as the mask appears, it slips away, pure, unrelenting relief cascading down the bond.

Azriel's already there, hooking his arms beneath your own to shoulder your weight, a hand atop your head to anchor your body to his own even as you shudder and scream and soak his leathers with angry tears.

"I know, my love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, the words a whisper into your hair as you claw at him, legs buckled and utterly useless. You're settled against thick muscle, tucked under Azriel's chin where he's lowered you both to the ground.

"I'm nothing," you gasp against his chest. "I have no place here anymore. I'm useless."

His hand is an anchor against the back of your neck, grounding when he squeezes the malleable flesh to draw your gaze to his own.

"You are everything."

The welcome pressure on your neck lulls you into drawing a long breath. Azriel deflates, hazel eyes trained on the rise and fall of your heaving chest.

"I am nothing without you," he continues on. "You are my life and my heart. Were you to die, I'd go by your side with a smile. I can't bear the thought of living in a world where you do not exist."

His wings twitch where they're tucked behind him. Your trembling fingers splay against the sharp angle of his jaw.

"I'm sorry," you croak. "I never want to leave you." His knuckles drag across your cheekbones, brushing away the tears that stain your balmy face. "I don't know how to live like this."

His lips press to your temple, brow nestled against the wisps of windswept hair at the crown of your head. He smears a kiss there and ventures lower. One against your jaw, your chin, in the crease of your brows.

And then he slants his lips over your own. Your muscles go soft, ragged breaths evening as he parts your lips with a swipe of his tongue, a hand splayed against the base of your spine as you sag. He brushes your nose with the tip of a scarred finger.

"Come on," he murmurs, urging you to stand. When you do, he tucks you into his chest, arms slung over your shoulders in a crushing embrace. "I will do anything to make this easier for you, my heart. I know it will be difficult, and I know it's scary. But stay with me."

Your arms tighten around his middle.

"Always."

[ellievickstar]

Maddening.

A/N: This one...this one hurt. yeah. uhm. Peace out ig find out for yourselves heheeheheh. hehehe, I'm not sorry. I got bored during math lesson.

Summary: Based on this idea I had. When the reader goes mad from what she is feeling from the bond while Azriel is unfaithful, how will everyone react when she is gone..?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Cheating!Azriel x reader, Brother!Rhysand x reader

Warnings: Unedited, angst, character death, a desk was thrown, Elain slander. kinda Azriel slander???? idk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It.

Was.

Maddening.

“Stop, stop it please,” You sobbed into the night, the shadows that were once something you loved swirling around you and tugging you in every direction. You knew. They knew. And right now you could feel his pleasure, his love for someone else, and you tried desperately to shut down your mind, to put up those walls of mental shields you had trained for years to do. But your daemati powers only amplified what was projected down this bond and it was maddening.

“PLEASE,” You yelled, your hand grasping at your hair as you pulled in frustration, your nausea rising in your throat as you felt his pleasure again. Again. Again.

RHYS.

Screaming into the night, reaching for that tether between your brother and Cassian and you.

CASS. RHYS. PLEASE.

One way or another you opened the drawer beside your bed and metal flashed against the moonlight.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

You choked on your sobs, your anguish flooding out your mind in every direction, you shakily grasped the hilt of the dagger as you raised it and brought it down in one fell swoop.

Little Starlight…?

Your brother’s voice rang in your mind, but as you felt the mating bond tear, relieving you of that constant wave of nauseating pleasure, as the shadows around you surged in their frenzy, warmth coating your abdomen, your hands and you slowly glanced down at the blood trickling out of you.

With what was left of your strength you tugged the dagger out, and blood gushed free flowing.

I’m sorry…

Was all you whispered back to your brother, and all you heard last was the door behind you being flung open, and the frantic voices of your brother and Cassian.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Why…why would you,” Rhysand shakily dropped back into his chair, his office torn apart after what had happened with his sister. Cassian’s dark expression hung on his face, his shoulders low and even Nesta did not dare say another word. Feyre hung behind Rhys, her eyes darting around the room, at how damaged everything was, the extent of her mate’s grief and anger, his sorrow.

Azriel stood beside Elain, and Feyre was almost sick to her stomach at how strong the smell of sex was permeating off both of them.

Rhys’s eyes were dead and hollow as he looked up at someone he once considered his brother.

“WHY? She was…she was..”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When they were 15….

You hastily jumped in front of Cassian and Azriel, your wings coming to materialise as you flared them and yelled, “Stop hurting them!” The kids who had been making fun of Azriel’s hands stumbled backwards, realising who they stood before, the princess of the Night.

“Don’t listen to them, I think your hands are beautiful,” You smiled shyly at Azriel as they ran away, glaring at the kids one last time for good measure. Cassian let out a cheer, swinging you around as he celebrated your ‘amazing victory that brought them to tears’.

And as you glanced Azriel’s way, you could not help but blush at his gaze, your attention soon stolen by your brother who had arrived and lectured you on being more careful when showing your wings.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Starfall before the mountain…

“Rhys….?” You knocked on the door of your brother’s office gently.

“Come in little starlight,” You heard your brother’s voice.

Entering the room, you paused as Cassian and Azriel’s gaze fell upon you, now feeling heat rise to your face at the way you were dressed.

Morrigan had decided to force you into a dark blue gown, the swoop of the neckline leaving enough for the imagination but also something to marvel at. The sleeves were off the shoulder — something you had taken to recently and she had noticed — and the skirt was floor length with a slit that did everything for your bare legs.

You had wanted to come here to get a second opinion from Rhys about the dress and any matching heels.

“You look gorgeous Little Starlight,” Giving you a thumbs up, Rhys beckoned you to come in.

Maybe I don’t need your opinion.

Just ask.

Does this dress paired with black or blue heels make your best friend want to screw me?

Blinking, your brother hummed, Cassian burst into laughter, clearly getting the message from Rhys while Azriel just looked at his two brothers confused.

Black heels, with a choker, from what I’ve heard Azriel is not tame.

I didn’t say him.

You didn’t need to.

That night Azriel had caved and confessed to you, even going so far as to informing you that you were his mate, a mating ceremony was held a week later and you had never been happier. And for a moment you had grasped onto the thought that this could be forever.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Rhysand swallowed as he started to recall all his memories from the past, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into his palm once more, his head hung low as he hunched over his desk.

“Rhysand I apologise for what I have caused…” Azriel tried but was immediately cut off by Cassian.

“You only apologise now because of what happened. Where was your guilt when she was alone in her pain after the war? Where was your guilt when you were picking flowers with Elain,” He spat her name like it was poison making her visibly flinch, “Where was your guilt when you decided that your mate was no longer worthy of your affection?”

Azriel’s gaze hardened, “I might have chosen to bed Elain but that does not mean-”

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS!” Cassian roared back, his shoulders were shaking, shaking, from how hard he started to cry.

Trying to calm the situation down, Elain stepped forward, "You can't say that just because they were mates it means he betrayed her by loving someone else."

Nesta scoffed at her own sister's words.

"Are you mad?" Nesta asked, disbelief coating every word, "Have we sheltered you so much that you have become this ignorant? Someone is dead because of your selfishness Elain, and you have decided to defend your actions?"

Elain rolled her eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Nesta, killing herself was just her being selfish thinking she was entitled to-" A knife cut across her cheek and the dagger landed against the wall, sinking deep enough to signal what could have happened to Elain's face.

"Speak again, girl," Amren hissed, "And I won't miss."

It was then that Rhysand spoke.

“My sister is dead,” His tone was flat, monotone, stiff to the point it made everyone in the room flinch, Mor who had been beside Nesta immediately placed a shield over the female, Feyre doing the same for herself as part of Rhysand’s desk went flying at Azriel’s head. No one protecting Elain beside him, not even Azriel himself.

Rhysand rose from his seat, his frantic pacing as he gripped at his hair, laughing, laughing as he sunk to the ground and screamed his next words. “My sister is dead and there is nothing, no amount of apologies, no amount of guilt, no amount of begging that can bring her back. DO YOU HEAR ME SHE IS DEAD!” Stilling, he finally raised his head, his hard gaze set on Azriel, his eyes still shining with tears.

“Get out of my court, Azriel.”

Panic shone in the shadow singer’s eyes. He stepped forward but was met with an invisible wall, Feyre. In Rhysand’s words Feyre had raised the wall to separate Azriel and Elain from the rest of the room, their only route was out…

“I never want to see you, or Elain again. Because if I do I will kill you. I will kill you and cauldron help me I will make you suffer. Get out of my court, find somewhere else who will accept someone who betrayed their mate.”

And with that Azriel and Elain were pushed out of Rhysand’s office, the hallway empty and dark save for both of them, and the only sound was Rhys’s anguished roar that followed.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: Sooooo how did you like it? :)

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

[incorrectacotarwords]

Azriel: …

Eris: *eyes covered in shadows* where am I?

Azriel: You’re in hell

Eris: This is more like my daydreams than my nightmares but ok

Credit to @iftheshoef1tz for the idea

[softpinkprincipessa]

Fantasy couples that give Elriel vibes Part 2:

Alice and Jasper - The Twilight Saga (2008-2012)

A couple that I don’t think I need to embellish too much on, so I will simply state that they are the poster “sunshine-weird-girl” and “tortured-broody-boy” combination. Jasper and Alice also scream “LIGHT and DARK” vibes which we all know is a core of theme for Elriel.

Elain - Alice:

Both possess the primary Seer ability = foresight/precognition

Both are very sweet, kind and gentle but also possess a strangeness due to their unique abilities (can be perceived by others as madness).

Azriel - Jasper:

Both are haunted by their violent pasts and upbringings and both possess permanent scarring because of this.

Both Azriel and Jasper have killed or tortured people as their main occupation; the only difference being Jasper was manipulated into doing this by his former lover; whereas Azriel continues to do this under the orders of his High Lord (important side note: Azriel DOES NOT KILL OR TORTURE INNOCENT PEOPLE especially children!!!!)

Both have “failed” former romantic relations although for very different reasons- Jasper’s being that it was all manipulation and no love and Azriel’s being unrequited love (side note: no hate or blame for Mor here at all! it is what it is, just sad that she can’t feel like she can be honest with him)

Another big reason why I love this couple comparison is because Alice and Jasper do not follow the “enemies to lovers” trope and we know that Elriel do not either (thank God).

I want to say there is a “love-at-first-sight” trope with both but I know that people may get the ick with that. However I will confidently say that both couples have instant connection and attraction and what I love most of all is the soft reverence and devotion that is displayed through their interactions (It is so refreshing to see this in the SJM world and I pray we see more of that in Elriel book).

[greyncvember]

cass and azriel flying around velaris dripped out in their syphons

[princess-tulip-writes]

things that azriel says during sex

“yeah baby? work for it then.”

“awe, did you not cum?”

“who’s making you feel this way, baby? tell me.”

“so cockdrunk for me, pretty.”

“i’m so fucking in love with this pussy.”

“you got this wet just from me flying you around?”

“just looking at my wings gets you all worked up. so desperate for me.”

“fuck, you’re so good at that.”

“who’s pussy is this?”

“would you look at that? you came just from me sucking on your nipples.”

“don’t you dare ever try to hide from me. when i told you that i found everything about you sexy, i meant it.”

“what are you so shy for? you were just teasing the fuck out of me earlier.”

[starlightandsouls]

Fallen Hearts

Warnings: accusations of treason, torture, death, suicide, betrayal, blood (this is kind of dark so read with caution)

18+ MINORS DON'T INTERACT

A/N: Well I finally got done with this piece. Honestly it just might be my favorite thing that I have ever written, so here it is: my magnum opus. I truly hope anyone reading it feels at least a part of the emotion I tried pouring into this and if you like it please do let me know what you think! This fic soo much effort and emotion from my end so your comments really make it all worth it)

(Inspired by the song Eleanor Rigby- Cody Fry Although I don't believe I could do justice to the song, this fic is not nearly as emotional or dramatic as I wanted it to be. But then again how do you live up to this masterpiece of a song?)

..............................................................................................

Azriel had never been one for afternoon picnics or eating apple pie under its own apple tree or relationships at all, come to think of it. But as it turns out, having a mate does change a person. Your personality, your very soul starts shifting; learning, becoming better acclimated to its lost twin. You begin doing things you would never have imagined just to make them happy. And that is how he ended up here; sprawled across a blanket, his back to the vast apple tree with his mate in his arms, munching on her hand made pies. Then again, Azriel would eat anything his mate blessed him with, just because he knew how happy it made her when he complimented her cooking.

The air was not stifling, despite the fact that they were well into the summer months. Summers here weren’t that long. Mostly because of the towering mountains surrounding the city that blessed them with good weather. But the two months that they did have summer were the worst out of the entire year. Velaris was usually boiling this time of year. However it seemed like the Mother had blessed them with good weather this time.

So they were lounging outside their sea side home, basking in the summer sun before it became insufferable. A few months later Azriel would reminisce this exact moment, try to relish in the meagre happiness its fading memory would provide and beat himself up for taking it for granted. But then again it wasn’t his fault. How could they have known they were happy? That this was all the happiness they would get?

.................................................................................

Azriel and Selene had been mated for well over three centuries, the other two you had been the closest of friends. That simple fact always brought her joy; that in their five centuries of life, she had always had Azriel. It was as if you were twin souls, meant to find and love each other.

The love you two shared was known all across Prythian. Everyone knew of the Shadowsinger and his mate, sister to the Heir of Night, closest to the High Lord Rhysand. Just as this fact was second nature to many, everyone knew not to get between the two of them, knowing they would gladly burn the world down, if just to keep the other warm. So deep and unconditional was their love. A force as constant, as eternal as the sun and the moon. Or at least they had thought it to be.

The war with Hybern had been won over half a decade ago and peace had settled. A hard won peace that had cost everyone a little too much. While all the courts were trying to rebuild, themselves and their diplomatic relationships with each other, they had remained blissfully unaware of a new threat lurking in their shadows, bidding its time to show its hand.

Rhysand, however, had begun to feel uneasy. Maybe it was instinct or just the unfamiliarity with peace after so so many years of pain, that something began unsettling him. He tried to hide it, if only for his family’s sake. They had all sacrificed too much for him to bother them with his unreasonable fears. But soon they began to notice his off putting behaviour. Azriel, of course, was first.

The two were playing chess in his office, as they often did. Cassian had gone to Illyria with Nesta to monitor the training camps, to ensure that no female was being mistreated despite the new laws. They had been vigilantly cracking down om anyone who toed the line. Rhysand had sworn to his mother that he would change the centuries old, misogynistic customs of the Illyrians. And now that he had the power to rule without any threats, he would do anything to ensure it.

But it seemed that his silence didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Perhaps he was taken aback by Rhysand’s unusually quiet manner, given that that was usually Azriel’s job.

“What’s on your mind brother,” Azriel asked nonchalantly without looking up from the chess board, where he was getting closer and closer to besting Rhysand.

Rhysand didn’t reply, simply because he didn’t notice. His thoughts were too consuming, too rampant.

“Rhysand,” Azriel repeated, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Everything’s alright,” Rhysand said. What’s the harm in trying? Azriel quirked an eyebrow, telling that he wasn’t going to fall for this lame response.

Sighing, he replied, knowing he could lie to anyone, put up a facade for anyone. But not Azriel. His brother had always been the one to see through his mask that had fooled countless others so easily.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. And that’s actually exactly the problem. Everything is fine. But for some reason I’ve been feeling so uneasy, like something is going to go wrong.”

Azriel listened carefully without any interruptions. This was one thing he loved about Azriel; he was a great listener. He never judged him or gave him false reassurances, never tried to dismiss his concerns.

“Is something in particular bothering you?” Azriel inquired, seamlessly taking on the role of Spymaster, always ready to fulfil his duty.

“That’s the problem. There is no specific threat or danger that’s worrying me. I just can’t shake this feeling of dread. I swear Azriel this paranoia is going to drive me crazy. Such small things start bothering me these days. Like how Beron was acting in the last meeting. I mean he was an asshole as usual, but nothing other than that,” Rhysand started rambling. All his concerns and worries started bubbling to the surface, knowing Azriel was the one person he could vent to without any repercussions.

“Okay, so Beron’s acting strange. If you want I can go do some recon in Autumn. Figure out if those foxes are upto something,” Azriel offered. Rhysand could see the cogs turning in his head, already planning how he would go about it. Rhysand rushed to refuse before Azriel could formulate a plan.

“No, its fine. There's no point in going to that hellhole and riling up Eris. Plus my sister would skin me alive if I put you in danger without any reason.”

At the mention of Selene, a small smile bloomed on Azriel’s face, and seeing him made Rhysand do so as well. Azriel had gone through so much in his childhood and then when they had grown up as well. No family, no siblings. Sure Rhysand and Cassian were his sworn brothers but it was that feeling of having someone that was yours, truly and only yours, was more blissful than anything. And Azriel had found that in Rhysand’s sister. While it had been a bit off-putting at first, if only because it was his job as a big brother, later he had felt nothing but joy at the thought of the two people he loved most in his life, finding their happiness with each other. And both of them deserved it. After everything, if there was anyone who deserved it, it was Azriel and Selene.

After the game finished, which Azriel so gleefully won, he got up to leave, but not before adding,

“Hey, if you need anything, I’m here. Just say the word.”

Rhysand had only smiled and nodded, knowing his brother would almost put his duty first and foremost, sometimes even before his life. If only he had remembered this simple fact.

.................................................................................

Azriel’s POV...

Leaving Rhysand’s office, Azriel made a beeline towards Selene. His shadows had informed him that she was in the training ring. Of course. Despite there not even being a bare hint of a conflict let alone a war, you and Cassian insisted on training everyone everyday. The two of them claimed that should the need arise, they all needed to be ready. Azriel prayed to the Mother that it never did.

However, it appeared she was alone right now. Perhaps getting in some extra work out. Hypocrite. Sel was were always chastising him for working too hard, always forcing him to take one too many breaks. While she herself often toiled away in the training arena for hours and hours on end. Like he had said: hypocrite.

Walking in, he saw her slashing away at the dummy with her sword. Each strike was precise and lethal, the picture of perfection. For a moment, Azriel simply stood their quietly, waiting a second to take in the sight before him. Even covered in sweat and your leathers, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Night embodied in the form of a heavenly angel, a gift from the Mother to show mere mortals what true beauty looked like. Each day Azriel thanked the Gods for blessing him with this brilliant female for a mate but he knew deep down, even if he were to worship Selene for a thousand years more, it would never be enough to show even a trickle of his devotion. She was his muse, his reason for life, the one who held the keys to his soul and heart.

Despite his chosen silence, Azriel knew she had noticed him. If not because of his shadows, maybe because of the love pouring in openly through the bond. Selene always tried to feign annoyance at his ‘cheesiness’ as she called it, but he knew from the blush that adorned her cheeks and the blinding smile that lit up her face, that deep down Selene adored it. So he kept doing it every single day; reminding her how much she meant to him. He only hoped it was enough.

Finally putting down her sword, Selene turned to him with that smile of hers. She walked right over to him and instantly put her arms around him.

“Well hello there, handsome. How did you find your way to our humble abode,” she mocked as Azriel had honestly been scarce in the training arena these days. He had been occupied with either spying or some other task which, for once, left no time for training. A fact that his mate often loved to tease him about; that if he didn’t start training sooner or later, he was going to become an old crone.

“I was told there was a rather pretty female here who was getting quite lonely. I thought maybe I should go offer her some company?” he joked right back. Only with Selene did he ever leave his guard down like this, only with her did he let this side of him show.

“You’re shameless, you know that?” she said, laughing her melodious laugh that would make the sweetest nightingales shy away.

“You love me anyways,” he whispered back.

“That I do. I love you Azriel, more than anything else in the world. You’re my everything.”

Azriel only leaned forward and kissed her forehead and both of her closed eyes. It was the softer moments like this that brought Azriel the most joy. Not that he wasn’t thankful for each second he got to spend with Selene. But something about when it was just the two of them, surrounded by silence, quietly expressing their love for each other that touched his heart the most. Even when she simply held his hand, he felt powerful enough to conquer the world. That loneliness he had felt ever since he was a child disappeared when he had first befriended her and had not reared its ugly head towards him ever since. Such was her power, and he has been in awe of it for just as long.

....................................................................

Three months had passed ever since, when it began. Disappearances, murders. People going missing left and right in all seven courts. And these were no ordinary people; nobles, court officials, warriors. Panic had begun to spread. No one had the slightest idea who was doing it or what their intentions could be. As the summer heat reached its peak, stifling everyone’s breaths, so did the uncertainty, the anxiety of the current events.

All seven courts were scrambling to find the reason behind these disappearances, a culprit, a reason. Something that would at least give them a hint as to what to expect, how to prepare. Azriel, himself, hadn’t slept in almost two weeks or if he had, it had been for an hour only at best. He had gone longer without rest, but the stress of everything was starting to get to him. Well that and the fact that he had come up with no answers. He was supposed to be good at this, it was literally his job. His entire family was looking to him for answers, when he had absolutely none to give. And the feeling of letting them down, risking putting them in danger because of his incompetence scared him more than anything.

Selene had been the only one to notice; how he was so tense all the time, how the bags under his eyes had become deeper everyday, how even his beautifully carved face had become gaunt, pale, because she knew he hadn’t been eating properly. She saw it perhaps because she was the only one he let see through his mask. Everyone needed him right now. He couldn’t afford to break down. But around her... he could take a second to breathe, to not put up a facade. She constantly reassured him that he didn’t have to do this alone, that he didn’t have to bear this burden alone. But what could he do? Centuries of experience had ingrained into his very being this sense of duty that he couldn’t shake off no matter what.

However, at the last meeting where Azriel had all but collapsed as he gave Rhysand his report, Selene had finally put her foot down. Despite everyone’s protest she had dragged him home, saying he needed rest, that everyone else could survive without him for a couple of hours. Now Azriel himself had also opposed this decision, albeit half heartedly. Because no matter how much he wanted to work, Azriel knew he had to be honest with himself. With how exhausted he was right now, if he tried to winnow somewhere Azriel knew it would end in a disaster. Selene had quickly shut up everyone’s arguments with a swift reprimanding and has dragged him home.

Which was how they ended up here; in their room, where Azriel sat in an armchair while Selene prepared the bed. In all honesty, Azriel knew he should help but he realised he would probably faint and increase her work even more. So he stayed still. While Selene fluffed up the pillows, Azriel gazed out the window to their garden. Only some time ago, the two of them had been having a picnic under their apple tree, blissfully unaware of what awaited them. The same, luscious tree that had held ripe apples for them just some time ago was now bare. The leaves were sparse, the branches lightning every day. The leaves were turning a pale yellow, losing that healthy green. Perhaps it was a sign of winter. Although it was still far off, the thought still unsettled him for some reason.

“Azriel.”

Selene’s voice calling out to him broke Azriel out of his reverie. Turning to her, he saw she was holding out a hand to him, signalling him to join. Each step felt like he dragging mountains as he walked across the room to her.

As he lay down with her, Azriel suddenly felt a strange sense of peace, of silence, wash over him. Selene began running her fingers through his hair, which really made him melt. Closing his eyes, he took in her scent. It never failed to soothe him, always grounding him.

“You know you can relax right. Not everything is your responsibility. Let others help you out as well,” she whispered into his hair. He knew she purposely kept her voice low for him, knowing when he was this exhausted, this overwhelmed, loudness always made it worse.

“I know but... I just feel so guilty. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. And I am trying, I really am. I just...”

“Shhh. Its okay Azriel. I know how hard you work, how dedicated you are to this court. And so does everyone else. You don’t need to prove it. You’re overworking yourself, my love. And until and unless you get some proper rest, I’m not letting you go out there. Cauldron knows what’s going on. And if you’re putting yourself in harms way, you need to be prepared. I... I can’t lose you, Azriel,” Selene cried out, her fears finally coming out.

“You’re not going to, my love. I promise. I always do don’t I? I’ll always come back to you,” he reassured her.

“You better, you big bat.”

The two of them got around four hours of sleep before someone came knocking on their door. While Selene was grumbling about it not being enough, Azriel knew with the current circumstances even that was a luxury.

It turns out Rhysand needed both of them for different tasks. Azriel was to go to Winter court to check on a lead that Kallias had apparently found. Selene was going to Day, to help out Helion with his forces. Rhysand had commented that he didn’t want to split the two of them up, but right now he needed all the hands he could get.

They had begrudgingly agreed and had left for their respecting missions, not before a hearty goodbye. Not a single soul in Prythian could have predicted what was about to happen as the two lovers went their separate ways. If only they had known this was the last time they would ever see each other again. Maybe they would relished in the moment more, maybe they would have spent more time together. Maybe, maybe, maybe. In the end everyone was left dreaming of how, maybe, they could have stopped what was about to happen.

.................................................................................

Feyre POV...

The last few weeks had been difficult for everyone, but Feyre thought it was even worse for herself and Rhysand. They were supposed to be the leaders of their court, supposed to assure them and provide all the answers, tell them that everything would be okay. But with every disappearance, she felt like she was failing her people. Helpless and aimless, the two of them were struggling to keep the court together, to stop the panic from turning into pure hysteria and chaos.

Right now, she was the only one in Velaris. Everyone else had gone somewhere or the other to try to figure out something about this new threat. Feyre had gone on the last round to Dawn Court whose villages had just been attacked, to see if they could perhaps find some semblance of an idea as to what the hell has been going on. While she had come back empty handed, it was her turn to stay with Nyx as Rhysand left this time.

Feyre was alone in the House of Wind, save for Nyx and Elain. After crying his throat soar, Nyx had finally gone to sleep. Elain had gone to put him to bed while Feyre read some of Azriel’s reports, desperate to find anything they could have missed the first time round.

She had just put the last of the papers down, her eyes heavy from all the reading, when a scream pierced the stagnant silence that had settled over the House. Instantly Feyre was on her feet. Had someone infiltrated the House, despite all the wards around it. She was all alone as well. No matter, Feyre was enough for whatever coward had dared to intrude her home. Nyx... Oh gods Nyx... no no no

Feyre ran through the halls, dread filling her as she prayed to whatever deities that listened, that the intruder was nowhere near her son. If something happened to him, she would raze the whole world down.

She had just turned a corner, when she slammed into Elain, who was clutching a crying Nyx in her arms. Thank the Cauldron. It was only did she realise that Elain was crying too, with a bleeding gash down her face.

“Elain, what happened? Elain, where are they? Elain!” she yelled at him, shaking her shoulders, trying to will her into speaking. But Elain kept on sobbing, shaking her head, she started hyperventilating. Only a second later, Elain’s gaze zeroed in on something behind Feyre’s back, and she screamed.

Pushing Elain and Nyx behind her, she yelled at them to run as she turned to meet the invader head on. Whoever it was, had laid a hand on her sister, and for that they would die a most gruesome death.

A hooded figure stood on the other end of the hallway, knives in both hands. Only, one of them was dripping in blood. Elain’s blood. Blood that could have easily been her son’s. The thought enraged her beyond reason, as she charged at the male.

The male was on her before she could reach him. His knives lashing out, each strike intending to kill. Feyre barely missed some of them. Shit. He was really, really good. All of her hits went amiss. Whether those be from her dagger or her power. The male evaded her in every way.

A kick to the ribs knocked the air from her lungs as Feyre collapsed on the floor. In front of her, the male reached for another weapon. Closing her eyes, she tried reaching Rhysand. She had forgotten where he had gone, but only hoped that he could feel her distress.

Feyre felt her assailant get closer and closer until she opened her eyes. Before she could give in to her fate, the glint of the dagger in his hands caught her eye. It couldn’t be.... Perhaps the blood loss had made her delusional. There was no way what she was seeing could be true. For the dagger in the male's hand, the one against her neck... was Truth Teller.

Summoning what last strength she had left, Feyre pushed herself off the ground and reached up to the man’s head. As she pulled down his hood, a cry of anguish escaped her. At that moment Feyre wished it had been someone else, anyone else. That it was some other pair of eyes sneering back at her, that it wasn’t the friendly hazel one’s she had grown accustomed to. That it wasn’t Azriel glaring down at her.

“Why?” was all she could croak out with his knife pressed against her throat.

Azriel said nothing and only pressed the blade closer, presumably to finish her off. Just as she has resigned her fate, a cry sounded out,

“Feyre!”

Rhysand. He had heard her. He was here. Thank the Cauldron. At the sound of his voice, Azriel got off of her and disappeared into the shadows.

That was how Rhys found her, crumpled on the ground, tears of her own making their way down her face. She understood now why Elain had been crying the way she was. This betrayal was so unfathomable, she couldn’t wrap her head around it despite seeing it with her own two eyes. It just wasn’t possible...

Rhysand skidded to a halt as he crouched down next to her,

“Feyre are you alright? Are you hurt?” and just like Elain, Feyre was now speechless. How could anyone expect her to put to words what she had just witnessed.

“Feyre, what happened? Where’s Nyx?” Rhysand cried out as he shook her again, probably scared out of his mind.

Given the situation, Feyre did what she could do in the moment. She tapped against his mental shields, asking to be let in, then showed Rhysand the memory of just a few moments ago.

The only sign Feyre had to tell her that he had seen it, was Rhysand going wholly still. The colour drained from his face as it became ghost white. He too crumpled on the floor. Eyes empty, staring at the wall before him, not looking at anything in particular. The hurricane of emotions going through him right now was unimaginable to Feyre. Azriel was his brother... to expect this from him....

Rhysand POV..

After the shock had lessened, but still not gone, he had called back everyone in his family. He had then proceeded to show them the same memory Feyre had shown him. Not Selene. His poor, innocent sister. To be subjected to such pain was something he would never wish for his darling sister. He would deal with her later. Right now he needed to deal with a traitor.

The emotions of everyone were varied, as expected. Cassian had protested the most, blowing up within an instant of seeing the memory.

“Rhysand, tell me you’re not falling for this. Tell me you don’t think our brother is a traitor,” Cassian roared at him, questioning him like Rhysand was in the wrong. The audacity of it surprised him.

“Are you suggesting my mate is lying? That your High Lady is lying!” Rhysand yelled right back.

“It could be a mistake. Maybe... she didn’t know what she saw. It...it can be a trap. Maybe someone’s trying to set him up... He would never... Azriel would never do this.”

“For Cauldron’s sake, Cassian! Feyre SAW him! What else do you want? What more proof that you want that that bastard is a traitor! That treacherous son of a bitch laid his filthy hands on my mate. And for that I’ll cut his head off. If any of you try to intervene, you can die right along with him!” Rhysand threatened, ensuring that everyone understood how serious he was being.

He had barely finished his sentence when the door to his office was opened. For the second time that night, Rhysand found himself speechless. For before them, stood none other than Azriel. Relaxed and unabashed. As if he hadn’t committed treason. As if he hadn’t betrayed the only family he had ever known. That pathetic son of a bitch...

Azriel walked in coolly, not showing any signs of the suiting emotions whatsoever. As he felt everyone’s gaze on him, the bastard had the audacity to ask,

“What’s going on here? Is everything alright?”

The one simple statement broke whatever fragment of reverse Rhysand had left. Whatever patience, uncertainty there was left went out the door. Instead it was replaced with white hot rage.

All Rhysand saw was red. His fury gone beyond any bounds, any and all sense of reason gone with it. He wanted Azriel’s blood. And he wanted it now.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he moved across the room and punched Azriel right in the face. And he did it again and again and again until Azriel’s face was nothing but a bloody pulp. Eventually, Azriel pushed him off long enough to ask,

“Rhysand, what... why are you doing this? What are you doing?”

The question was answered only by a kick to the ribs. Azriel groaned and rolled to the side, coughing up blood. The sight brought him more pleasure than it should have. At that moment Rhysand felt like a crazed animal. The sight of spilled blood exciting him to shed even more.

Rhysand hauled up Azriel and slammed him against the wall, he then spat at him,

“You thankless son of a bitch, after everything I’ve done for you! Five hundred years, Azriel! Five centuries together... I thought you were my brother... and you go and stab me in the back?”

Rhysand then showed him Feyre's memory, hoping that maybe it would quell this bastard’s stubbornness. Azriel’s eyes widened as he took it in.

“That’s not me! Rhysand... how can you even think of believing that. I would never... I was in Winter! You sent me to Winter!” Azriel croaked out, still making excuses.

“You lying bastard. But don’t worry. I know just how to make you talk.”

Rhysand then grabbed Azriel by the collar and winnowed to the one place traitors like him deserved to dwell. The Court of Nightmares. It had been Azriel’s area of expertise and now the same place Rhysand would use to break him.

Dragging him to the cells in the bottom most pits of this miserable place, Rhysand threw all concern as to who was watching, or what they might think out the window. The only thing on his mind was vengeance. The pain of this betrayal only fanned the flames even more.

Throwing Azriel in one of the cells, Rhysand himself walked in and locked the door behind him.

“Now, tell me. Who are you working with? And what have you told them?,” Rhysand demanded, perhaps if Azriel was compliant he could be granted an easy death.

“Rhysand, are you out of your fucking mind? Why would I do this? Go ask Kallias if you want. I was with him in Winter,” Azriel exclaimed.

“Who’s to say you didn’t trick him too?”

“Rhysand, please. You have to believe me. I would never do this. Feyre’s my sister. I would never hurt her!”

His mate’s name only enraged Rhysand even more. How dare this son of a bitch do what he had done and then proceed to act innocent? Like he could be forgiven his crime?

Rhysand called on his daemati powers and tore his talons into Azriel’s mind, tearing it apart from within, trying to find some clues as to who he had been conspiring with. Beneath him, Azriel screamed as he felt he his mind being violated, each passing second feeling like knives being repeatedly stabbed in his head. Good. Rhysand wanted him to feel pain, if only an ounce of what his betrayal had made Rhysand go through.

“Rhysand! Please! I didn’t do anything! Please!”

Rhysand withheld his mental attacks, only for a moment. He wanted to give Azriel one last chance to confess, if only for the sake of the five centuries they had spent as brothers. Perhaps it was easy for Azriel to throw them away like they didn’t mean anything, but not for him. He wasn’t shameless enough.

“I’m giving you one more chance Azriel. Tell me who you’re working with. And perhaps I’ll make your passing easier.”

Azriel only sobbed below him, hands in his hair, he only sobbed,

“I didn’t do anything Rhys. Please! Please believe me, you’re all my family... I would never hurt you...”

Rhysand grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the wall repeatedly before letting him crumple to the floor once more.

“Do not speak to me of family. You lost the right to do so when you turned your back on us! I gave you a chance to confess. Now don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. You raised a hand against my mate, your High Lady! If I hadn’t gotten there on time, you were going to kill her weren’t you? You were going to rob me of the most precious thing in my life. Now, it’s your turn.”

Realisation dawned on Azriel’s face as a long, dark blade of pure ebony materialised in Rhysand’s hand. He tried to retreat, to cower back but Azriel’s broken body only allowed so much.

“No no no. Rhysand please! I didn’t do anything! Please! Please don’t do this... think of Selene!”

“Don’t you dare take my sister’s name, you bastard. She didn’t deserve a filthy low life like you for a mate! She loved you with everything she had and this is what you gave her in return... But not anymore. I’m not going to let even your shadows get close to her. You’re going to pay Azriel. For hurting my mate, my sister... you’re going to pay for all of it,” Rhysand threw back at him.

And then...Rhysand raised the sword and brought it down on Azriel’s back, cleaving his wings right off his body. Azriel screamed a scream of pure agony. Blood trickled down his back as the membrane of his wings gave way to the blade.

Rhysand had exacted his revenge in the most fitting way he could think of. Wings were not only fragile but also extremely important to Illyrians. And now Azriel’s were gone. Despite the fact that he despised his parentage, his wings were what marked him as an Illyrian. Now he was nothing.

Azriel’s cries died down to nothing as his throat became parched because of the screams. Now he lay collapsed in a corner, body still shivering and shaking, perhaps from the pain, perhaps from Azriel’s sobbing.

Despite it all, Rhysand felt no pity, no sympathy. Azriel deserved it. Rhysand would not let some crocodile tears break his resolve. Before he left, he said one more time,

“I hope the next time I come here, you’re a little more compliant. Do think about what has already happened. If you don’t give me answers next time... well you know better than anyone else, there are many fates worse than death.”

Azriel POV...

Even after the High Lord had left, the Shadowsinger kept on crying, shaking. He tried and failed to come up with a reason for what was happening. His brothers couldn’t do this to him. Not Rhysand and Cassian. They weren’t like his step brothers. They weren’t.... This was all a bad dream. Yes, a nightmare. He would wake up and he will be in Selene’s arms, and all will be right.

The pain from Rhysand’s mental attack and the severing of his wings had driven Azriel beyond the point of sanity, his hold on reality slipping with each passing minute. Crazed with pain and fever, he kept on whispering into the dark, just like he had when he had been a child,

“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. It’s just a bad dream. Its just a bad dream.”

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Rhysand POV...

When he returned to Velaris to the House of Wind, he was met the piercing sound of a female screaming. Instantly his heart stopped. Was there another intruder? Was Feyre alright? It was only when he reached the room the sounds were coming from, did he realise that the screams weren’t Feyre’s. They were Selene’s.

When he reached her room, he found her slumped on the floor, hair strewn everywhere, with her hand clutching her chest, beating at her heart. Feyre and Morrigan were by his side, trying but failing to calm her down.

“Selene, what’s wrong?”

Her gaze fell on him shakily, she stared at him got a moment as if trying to reassure herself that he was really there, before she started sobbing,

“Rhysand. Its Az... something is wrong. He’s hurt. I could feel it. It hurt so bad, Rhys. And now... I can’t feel him! I can’t feel him, Rhysand. You have to find him! You have to... he needs our help.”

“We will, we will. Don’t worry, my raven. But I need you to calm down first okay?” he said calmly. Selene only stared at him incredulously before pulling back from him.

“How can you ask me to calm down? I’m telling you my mate is hurt and you’re telling me to calm down?” his sister spat at him. He didn’t blame her. Not one bit. What she was going through right now was unimaginable. So Rhysand did what he could in the moment. He reached into her mind and put his sister to sleep.

Selene slumped into his arms as he picked her up from the floor. Laying her down, he ushered everyone outside.

Once they were all a safe distance away from her room, Cassian exploded,

“You can’t keep this from her forever Rhysand. You need to tell Selene. She deserves to know!”

The gravity of the situation finally started to weigh on him as his legs gave way from under him. Rhysand collapsed on a sofa and put his head into his hands.

“It’ll kill her. Knowing what that son of a bitch did... she won’t be able to survive it...” Rhysand whispered softly.

Cassian and Rhysand sat there for hours on end, trying to figure out what had led them there, trying to remember if there were any signs of Azriel acting strange in the last few months. But both of them came up empty. In the end they were both left with heavy heads, and even heavier hearts.

.................................................................................

Selene awoke only an hour later, once again in pain. The damned mating bond. It ensured that she felt every ounce of pain he conflicted on Azriel. That was one technicality that Rhysand had not thought of while exacting Azriel’s punishment.

This time it was Cassian who was in the room when Selene awoke, beside herself with pain and desperation. The feeling of the mating bond slowly withering away was enough to drive anyone insane. Rhysand would know; he had felt Feyre die once. He also knew how that it broke a person’s very soul in two.

When Selene awoke, she jumped straight out of bed and made to leave when Cassian stopped her,

“Sel, wait! Wait! Where are you going?”

Rhysand was truly beginning to worry for his sister. Her eyes were half crazed as she tried to fight off Cassian.

“Azriel! I need to find Azriel, he needs me!” Selene cried.

“He’s not here, Sel. We’ll find him. I promise. But you need to stay here, alright? It's not safe out there,” Cassian tried to reason with her, “Why don’t you sit down here? I’ll go get Rhysand. And then we can figure out how to find Azriel together alright?”

That was when Rhysand had walked in, going to his sister’s side the second he walked in. Selene took him by the arm and asked,

“Rhys, where’s Az? Where’s my Azriel? I can’t feel him. Why can’t I feel him?”

“I don’t know...”

“He knows I love him right? He knows I need him?”

“Of course he does,” Rhysand answered.

“THEN WHY ISNT HE COMING BACK? HE KNOWS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHY DID HE LEAVE ME ALONE!” Selene screamed at the top of her lungs.

Rhysand then put her to sleep again with tears in his eyes. Realistically, Rhysand knew they couldn’t do this forever. But seeing his sister in such a state tore his heart apart everything all over again. Glancing at Cassian, he saw in his expression that he felt the same. Their sister had always been shielded, protected. And to see her suffer in such a way, was more than either could bear.

.................................................................................

Two weeks passed like this; Selene waking up in a panic and then Rhysand or Feyre putting her to sleep. Each time they tried telling her, her broken state would deter them. Who would be the one brave enough to share her mate’s fate? Who would be the one to ring the toll bells for their love?

It was only when the second week ended when everything came crashing down. Selene was once again sleeping a restless sleep, Elain with her in her room.

The rest of the Inner Circle were in the Town House when Rhysand felt a disturbance. Someone had broken through the wards of the city. Instantly they were at their feet. Before any of them could react, there was a flurry of swirling darkness and before them stood a man.

The invader was tall, lean. Despite what he was undertaking, the man bore no armour. As if he expected no attack, no resistance. As if he could just walk out of here unscathed after barging in to his home.

“Who the hell are you?” Feyre demanded.

“Ah, Lady Feyre. Always so impatient. Lord Koschei sends you his regards. As for my name, we’ll that’s irrelevant really,” the man sneered.

Rhysand’s heart dropped. Koschei. It was impossible. He wasn’t... he wasn’t alive. How has risen again?

“That’s not...”

“Possible? Well i can assure you it very much is. Who do you think is behind all these people disappearing?” Then after adding a sick smirk the man added, “Behind the fate of your Shadowsinger?”

“Go tell your master, we’ve caught his lap dog. He won’t have any of our secrets anymore,” Rhysand spat at the man, still shocked at his audacity.

“Tsk, tsk. Rhysand. I honestly gave you more credit than you deserve. My master thought you all would never fall for this trap. But then again he did always underestimate my ingenuity. You see, we knew with Azriel by your side, we would never have been able to infiltrate your court. It was too well guarded. So we knew we had to get rid of him somehow, but we couldn’t figure out how. He was too secure here, with all of you. But then I thought: why do we go through all of that trouble when you can just do it for us?”

“What? I... I didn’t do anything. Azriel was working with you people. He got what he deserved,” Rhysand answered.

“Was he? Because I do not recall any such thing. And that is not something you forget. After all having the Shadowsinger by our side would have been such an advantage,” the man explained.

“Do not attempt to lie to me! I saw him.. Feyre saw him. He attacked her...” Rhysand began, perplexed. What game were these people playing now.

“Did he?”

The repeated questions caught him off guard. He glanced at Cassian who had a similar expression.

“Yes, we saw the memory. It was Azriel who attacked Feyre. He...” Cassian began.

“Really? Because I could have sworn Azriel was in Winter Court when I came here,” the man jeered.

“No, Azriel wasn’t....” It was then that the man’s words sunk in, “Wait, what did you just say?”

“Oh yes. It was me who attacked the House of Wind that oh so fateful night.”

“No.. it was Azriel... he..” Cassian started, too confused for words.

The man smirked smugly once again and raised an eyebrow. Then, the man snapped his fingers and in an instant, disappeared. In his place, now sitting before them... was Azriel.

A gasp from everyone sounded through the room. It was Feyre who exclaimed,

“What devilry is this?”

Despite looking like his brother, when he spoke the voice was the man’s own,

“Yes. There it is people. The grand reveal. It was I. Honestly it was so easy to fool you people. When Azriel left for Winter, I made my way here. I did the crime and poor Azriel paid the price. How sad.”

No no no no no no no no no

Before he could process what had just occurred, a soft voice echoed through the room,

“It was you. You took my Azriel from me.”

Selene. No.

“Yup. And he’s been torturing him loads as well,” the man added, mocking all of them.

“You son of a bitch! After everything you still have the audacity to stand before me so shamelessly?” Rhysand roared at him.

“Well if you ask me, I was just getting bored. I was expecting you lot to figure it out sooner but you are all so slow. So I thought why not come reveal myself? There’s no point in committing all these brilliant crimes when no one gives you its credit.”

The man disappeared before Rhysand could reach him to cut his measly head off.

“How could you?” Selene asked again, “How could you?!”

Rhysand tried making his way over to her but she retreated, getting as far away from him as possible.

“All this time... you’ve been lying to me. You lied to my face. How could you Rhysand?”

“Sel... it wasn’t my fault. I had no idea... we all thought it was Azriel... He..” Rhysand scrambled to come up with an answer, something to explain why he had done what he had. But deep down he knew, nothing could ever absolve him of this heinous sin.

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” his sister demanded.

“The Court of Nightmares.”

And Selene winnowed away.

...........................................................................

Selene POV..

The hurricane of agony and anguish that was ravaging her very soul right now made her want to curl into a ball and cry. But she didn’t have time. She had to find Azriel. She had to get to him.

Winnowing in to the Court of Nightmares, she willed the faint mating bond she could still feel to find him, to lead her to him. Cauldron knows what that monster had done to her mate. She would never forgive him. All of them would pay.

Pushing her fury aside, Selene skidded to a halt in front of a cell in the bottom most pit of this wretched place. Damn you Rhysand. She unleashed her power and the door before her crumbled to nothing. Walking in, she saw nothing at first. The darkness so absolute, no amount of light could ever lessen it in this place.

After grasping at nothing but the dark, she finally spotted a figure in the far corner of the cell. Azriel.

Running over, Selene felt like throwing up at the sight before her. Her mate's back was covered in blood and blisters. Open wounds, half clotted, half fresh. His majestic, awe inspiring wings were... gone. Rhysand couldn’t have done this. He was cruel but not this... this was unimaginable. He wouldn’t do this to his brother... would he?

Turning him over, she tried to shake him awake. He’s okay. He had to be.

“Azriel. My love. I’m here.” No response.

“Az. Please.”

With a shaky breath, Azriel’s eyes opened, only slightly. And her violent eyes were met with his beautiful hazel ones. Eyes that once held nothing but adoration. Eyes that had always looked at her like she had hung the stars. Eyes... that were now empty and hollow.

Azriel looked at her for a second, and recognition lighted up his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something but just as quick it closes. His hand slipped from hers and his chest stopped rising.

Selene was frozen in place, refusing to accept what had just transpired. Azriel’s now empty, unblinking eyes stared at her coldly.

“No no no. Azriel. Azriel. Wake up. It’s me. Its your Selene. I’m going to take you home. We’re going to go home,” she whispered, willing him to wake through some miracle.

Her hands felt the wounds on his back as she held him. They had been too deep, too lethal to be left as he had been. And those same wounds had led to his passing. Now that was what Selene would have realised if she had been rational, if she had been sane at the moment. But she was long gone past that point.

“My lion mate. What did they do to you? My brave Azriel... how could they do this to you?”

Running her hands through his hair, she moved it from his eyes. His empty gaze, his still chest mocking her.

“Azriel, my love. How could they do this to you? Azriel. Wake up. Come on, we’re going home. Azriel wake up. Please. For the love of God please wake up,” she cried softly once before panic began to settle in her chest.

Selene felt the mating bond stretch and stretch, until it shattered. The bond cleaving felt like someone had ripped her very soul apart. Her heart felt like it was om fire. The world fell away. The only thing Selene knew was her lost love.

“AZRIEL!” Selene screamed, finally letting out her anguish, “AZRIEL WAKE UP! PLEASE! MY DARLING! PLEASE WAKE UP”

She let out a wail that was heard all across the wretched court. She dragged her nails down her face as she screamed. At one point, she even stopped saying his name and just screamed in pain.

Her ragged screams were what led Rhysand and the others to the cell. Where they found her, holding on to her dead mate, pounding on his chest, begging him to wake up. The screaming did not subside or lessen with their arrival. The entire court of Nightmares stood witness that day as the Daughter of Night cried and pleaded for her mate, witnesses how the two lovers were torn apart.

Cassian fell to his knees at the sight of his dead brother. A wail of affliction tore free from him but Selene paid him no mind, she was too far gone beyond the point of salvation, as she still shook Azriel, as if expecting him to awoke any second.

Rhysand was frozen. Body, mind, both numb. His hands were shaking as he took in the sight before him. No no no. This couldn’t be happening. Azriel couldn’t be... dead. He couldn’t be. Rhysand was going to take him home, was going to apologise. He would have paid with his own life if he had to, to Selene and Azriel. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen...

Selene turned on him, rushing over to where he stood. He realised too late, she was holding Truth Teller. She must have grabbed it before winnowing here. Feyre, however, did and she moved to stop her. But Rhysand held her back. No. He would take whatever punishment his sister would deem him worthy of. His wings. His life. All were offered.

But despite screaming only a few seconds ago, which Rhysand also expected her to do, Selene only cried out softly, as if she was too tired to raise her voice anymore,

"How could you do this to me Rhysand? You put out the light of my heart. You killed the one who held my soul. You know, when you took him from me and then lied to me about it, when you took my love from me, my entire being was plunged into darkness. I was drowning in my soul's agony. The hope that I could find him again, kept me alive. I took refuge in that hope. But you took even that away from me. And who knows... if he had been alive.. maybe I could have forgiven you. Maybe we could have moved past this a century or two later. If he had been alive, there could be hope for another spring. Light could have lit up our lives again, flowers would have blossomed again. Your court would have been covered in the red of roses rather than the tainted blood of my innocent mate! You have forever changed the fate of this court Rhysand. You have summoned such a winter, whose icy winds will never stop.Everything will surrender to it. Everyone will meet their end because of it . My suffering, my pain is over Rhysand. But yours... yours has just begun."

Selene raised Truth Teller. Behind him, Feyre and Mor cried out his name, assuming the knife was meant to him. Beside him Cassian moved as well to get Rhysand out of Selene’s way. But Selene... Selene gave her brother one last whisper of a smile before moving Truth Teller to her own throat. It was then that the Shadowsinger's legendary blade spilt its last drop of blood. It was then that it took one last life, the life of someone who no one could have ever imagined being subjected to the blade.

Rhysand was frozen in place as he watched his sister, his darling baby sister slit her own throat in front of him. As she fell, he did too.

Kneeling, he held her lifeless body as blood flowed freely from her. The same blood that drawing from Azriel had given him so much pleasure only some time back. And now... his sister, his only family was gone. Gone...because of him.

The High Lord’s agonised roar could have been heard all across Velaris as he cried for his sister, for his brother who he had murdered with his own two hands. How... how could he have been so foolish? How had they come to this? How could Rhysand, the High Lord who believed himself smarter, stronger than any, had fallen for this heinous trap?

And his sister... she had died alone, without her love. So did Azriel. How.... How? How could Rhysand have done this? To think Azriel's childhood, his first steps, his first memories had been of the dark, cold cellar his so called father had locked him in. To think he had gone through all of that, had survived, found happiness only to meet his end in the same way...it was too cruel. Almost a slap to the face, like fate was mocking his brother; look, you tried to escape but what happened? Once again you return to this lonely darkness. People like you don't deserve happiness. No. Rhysand couldn't have been this cruel. Why hadn't he waited, why hadn't he questioned his own sinful eyes?

And Azriel... he was gone. His brother, the one person he could always rely on was gone, the one person who had always protected him was gone. To think of the fate he had subjected the two of them to; dying alone, in pain, without their mate by their side. Rhysand couldn't save them...

Cauldron. What had he done?

..................................................................................

The last vestiges of summer left the Night Court. And along with it, it took the last bits of warmth, of plenty... of happiness. The city of starlight now submerged in an unforgiving, relentless winter. As it would be for as long as it shall stand. For the cries of the Daughter of Night had not gone unheard by the Gods.

At the edge of the city, in a small garden by the seaside, the signs of winter first started showing. The home that had always been basked in light and warmth, now stood derelict. Doors have been thrown open, windows too. As the icy wind made its way inside the house, taking over what was once the haven of two lovers, a silence settled. It was the overbearing, suffocating silence. One that made its presence known, that couldn't help but make you think of a lost time, where this silence did not reign. Now... it only mocked the house's desolation. Look, what you used to be? How you have fallen.

Outside, the apple tree in the garden, in whose shade the Shadowsinger and his beloved had once laid, was now barren. As the last leaf of the tree fell, it was joined by the first snow of this eternal winter. Snow that would not stop, that would take all who stood before it.

Oh how they had fallen.... in the end, no one was saved.

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue! 

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol 

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did. 

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident. 

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights. 

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave. 

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you. 

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you. 

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.” 

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.” 

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink. 

 “Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night. 

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there. 

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

 “Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble. 

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights. 

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle. 

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle. 

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes. 

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. 

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought. 

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth.  “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress. 

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile. 

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?” 

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you. 

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.  

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.” 

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these. 

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand. 

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble. 

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.” 

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.” 

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen. 

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?” 

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach. 

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well. 

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you. 

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master. 

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms.  He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.” 

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life. 

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence. 

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth. 

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.” 

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking. 

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.” 

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow. 

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.” 

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved. 

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine. 

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave. 

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later. 

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern. 

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening.  “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage. 

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again. 

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked. 

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide.  He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this. 

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all. 

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you. 

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in. 

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines. 

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls. 

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.  

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him. 

[thehighladywrites]

💗🌸✨🍭 🦢 the sessions.

☀︎ — pairing: tutor/nerd azriel x bimbo/popular reader

☀︎ — status: ongoing 💗

☀︎ — summary: While busying yourself with popularity and looking good, you start failing math. You can't flirt your way to an A this time, so you are assigned a tutor. What do you do when it is the biggest nobody ever? You obviously fall for him💗

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, smut, very light angst, bimbofication, nerdy azriel, popular reader, tw annoying popular people who thinks the world revolve around them

☀︎ — amara’s note: i’m so excited for this little series!! I will be posting snippets, and headcanons and longer chapters whenever I can!!

001 - Azriel is assigned to you as a tutor

002 - Study session at your apartment turns heated

003 - Nerd Az looses his virginity

004 - You adopt a kitten and name him after azriel

005 - You distract Azriel from his homework

006 - Confession time!

007 - Azriel finds out something very shocking about you.

008 - Your friend hits on him infront of you, so you do something about it

009 - You’re horny, ovulating and needy

010 - After a whole weekend at your house, Azriel says he has to go

011 - Azriel takes u to a tattoo shop

012 - Azriel shows you a hidden side

013 - You meet Azriel’s friends

014 - Flash forward

[ervotica]

azriel x spitfire!reader

she stresses him out and takes ten years off of his life every time she opens her mouth. but she’s his salvation, his safe place, his comfort person. she has claws and fangs and she’s not afraid to use them but never on him. she’s smart mouthed and sarcastic and loves to argue. she has an affinity for knives and daggers and gives cassian a run for his money in the training ring. and she loves him so fiercely that she’s thinks she might keel over from the weight of it. she is everything he loves but is simultaneously terrified of. and he adores her.

[ellievickstar]

His Second Choice?

A/N: So my first ever fic was Azriel angst…thus, this. I have curated what I consider to be the worst thing of all time, being someone’s second choice, especially if you are their soulmate.

Summary: When then mating bond finally snaps into place, what are you meant to do when you realise your mate has another in his heart, will you break it off to save yourself, or will your mate be able to save this heartbreak?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Witch!Reader, Azriel x Elain, Nessian, Feysand.

Warnings: Angst. Tears. Mentions of witchcraft. Elain Slander. Being someone’s second option. (If you are in a similar situation, BREAK IT OFF. He or she is not worth it), Azriel being incredibly stupid. Elain slander. Thanks to @azrielhours for helping me come up with the idea! I also added my own take of the Hanahaki Disease with Azzy. Hope you enjoy, love you babes <3

My Masterlists & Rules

~*~*~*~*~

You walked down the hall, and noticed that there was a slight bounce in your step, smiling as you recalled the reason why. Today was finally the day, after weeks of going on countless missions for Rhys, Azriel could finally have dinner with you as usual, and just in time to. Today you were celebrating finally being able to finish the last book of your series, quite popular now, no doubt thanks to Feyre's connections to a famous publisher, which allowed the series to get the exposure it needed. (A/N: Is this how publishing books work? Someone please educate me)

Thanks to the help of Mor and Nesta's fashionable taste in dresses, they had picked out a wonderful dress. It was a dark navy blue, azriel's favourite colour, which faded into white with golden accents. The sleeves were off the shoulder, lined with flowers sewn and embroidered into the top. You were in absolute awe when you saw it and had tried it on immediately, thankfully it fit you well, and you wished the two females well before heading to bottom of the stairs to the House of Wind, where Azriel agreed to pick you up.

You wondered what he'd think as you fidgeted with the layers of your dress, occasionally summoning spells to pass time. During the first hour, you just played with your magic, bored. During the second hour, you begun to worry that he might have been injured during the mission. During the third, you were ready to summon Rhys

That's when Cassian and Nesta came across you and asked you why you weren't with Azriel and you made a painful realisation.

You had stood there, waiting like a fool. Thinking that maybe, your mate would still care enough to at least show up if he was tired from his mission. Stood there, until Nesta and Cassian came across you, Nesta demanding to know where Azriel was, Cassian puzzled as he claimed Azriel had come home hours before. And that's when you knew he had forgotten. And it hurt.

You shouldn't have been upset. After all, he could have been so tired and just landed in bed immediately, he could have been flooded with paperwork for the mission. Cassian offered to bring you to the House of Wind but y ou waved him off, telling him to enjoy the rest of his night with Nesta and not to worry about you.

You couldn't winnow. But you could do something else. After ensuring that no one could see you, you waved a hand in the air. Drawing precise shapes from memory. A light glowed in your hand, slowly swallowing your arm, then the rest of you. And when you closed your eyes because of how bright it was you felt the atmosphere shift. And with your fingers crossed you opened one eye, then the other, to see yourself standing in the living room of the House of Wind.

Witchcraft.

You had grown up as a witch, travelling across Prythian with your family and friends. That was before Amarantha's rule, before...everything. Before you witnessed you family slaughtered. Before you mustered up so much power you shouldn't even be alive. Before your friends needed to go into hiding. Before everyone thought witches were evil. And it wasn't just you. Bryaxis, was something of an old friend. You were no stranger to the weaver, the bone carver or the suriel. They had all been...friends. And such association with had had cause your kind to be deemed evil.

So you hid your power, you hid your identity. The only people you ever told was the inner circle, save Feyre's two sisters. You weren't comfortable with sharing it with new people, and everyone understood. You had told Nesta vague details, but tears had begun to form in your eyes and she embraced you, telling you that it was alright if you didn't wish to speak of it yet.

The memory made you smile. But once you remembered the situation at hand, it turned into a frown. Reaching out to that mating bond, you grasped it, but there was nothing on the pother side. Though Azriel was your lover, he hadn't experienced the bond for himself yet. You would wait for it to click for him, you didn't want to rush him.

Laughter caught your attention, and the distinct sound of your mate made you freeze as you faced the balcony. There they were. It was clear as day as your mate entered the House of Wind with Elain. Elain. You'd known that they had grown closer, but to leave you with no explanation and spend time with someone else. You blanched.

Azriel's eyes found yours and as they trailed down to your dress, the colour drained from his face. He truly had forgotten. Not for any rhyme or reason but because he was busy with someone else. Your vision began to blur, but you swallowed as you asked him one thing.

"Why?" It was so soft, you couldn't recognise your own voice. But Azriel flinched. You searched for an answer in his eyes but found none as he looked away. You begged him silently for a good reason, a good answer, anything but-

"I guess I just forgot, and she needed me for something important," It was as if he had slapped you. Turning away, tears streamed down your face, and with a wave of your hand a blinding light flashed and you were gone. Azriel left on his knees as he had tried to grab you, to convince you to stay, to let him make up for what he had forgotten, but never once thought about what he had just said, what he had just implied.

~*~*~*~*~

"He didn't!" Mor gasped. You nodded sadly and Nesta huffed as she sat back in her chair. Feyre was quiet as she stirred her tea. You couldn't imagine how they both felt. On one hand, Elain was their sister, but to even attempt on a man who already had a lover was beyond both of them. Feyre shook her head, in disbelief and disappointment. She exchanged looks with Nesta and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps, we sheltered Elain all her life, but it is no excuse for what she is doing, whether she realises it or not. I will speak to her about the issue at hand, but don't worry, I won't tell her about the bond," You smiled gratefully at the high lady and she excused herself to go to the bathroom. You couldn't help but be envious of the relationship she had. Though you would never want to date the High Lord, you wished that Azriel would care for you as much as Rhys did Feyre.

Sighing, you set your cup down, ready to leave for a meeting with Bryaxus - who was more than overjoyed when you begun to regularly visit him - and then you felt it, it was like your heart was being ripped out of you as you gasped, heaving, coughing. Mor sat up, alarmed, and Nesta moved to hold your back, soothing you. You hacked and watched in horror as blood and what looked like the petals of a flower came spewing out of your mouth.

You knew this disease.

You knew what it would do.

You knew what needed to be done.

"Get Madja," You coughed out to Mor, "Now! I need her now!" Raising your voice, you began to cough up more petals and more blood. Mor instantly winnowed out and was back within a few minutes, Madja hot on her heels as she rushed towards you. Your mind spun as you processed everything. Not this, anything but this, please.

After your coughing fit that scared the wits out of Mor and Nesta, you explained the disease to them. Madja nodded at your every word as she inspected the kind of flowers that you had coughed up.

Red Tulips. Soulmates.

Marigolds. Hurt.

Daffodils. Unrequited Love.

You cursed under your breath. Feyre had just returned and was quickly filled in on the situation. She paled as she took in the flowers, their meanings. Hours of listening to what Elain said flowers represented and now Feyre wish she had forgotten all of it. You started heaving again and Madja made you lean forward as you coughed up more petals into a paper bag.

Unbridled pain roared through the veins of your body as it began to come in paves. Whimpering, you brought your knees to your chest, but the coughing didn't stop. You were in near tears. How could you let this happen? Years of hearing about this disease and you were now victim to it. You couldn't help that your mate was in love with another, but why was this so much worse than the stories? You had seen the events of the disease transpire and it was no where near as bad-

"It's because you and Azriel are mates. In other cases, this only happens between two lovers...never mates. Mates usually have an instant connection, so it's very rare for one half to love another person entirely," Feyre explained. Nesta muttered something about how Tamlin should have gotten this cursed disease, but Feyre then explained that there was a difference between 'love' and 'obsession'. This couldn't be happening. You groaned into your palms, maybe you should go to the bathroom, lest the next thing you know you can't move.

Standing up, you took one step, then another, your vision bagan to tunnel, and you turned back to the sofa. You had to at least get back to a lying down position, but before you could, darkness hugged you like a warm, welcoming blanket.

~*~*~*~*~

Mor yelped as she rushed to keep Y/N from falling. Feyre immediately reaching out to Rhys to get everyone to go to the House of Wind immediately. It was an emergency. Rhys was there with Lucien in a heartbeat. For a second, Mor wondered where Azriel was, when booming beats of wings could be heard. Cassian rushing in, letting out a sigh of relief as he spied that Nesta was safe, Azriel with Elain in his arms entering soon after as he set her down.

Feyre, Mor and Nesta all scowled at the Shadow singer, assuming that it was because of Y/N he nodded at them apologetically. Which in turn made them all exchange enraged looks, Feyre making a mental note to tell Rhys to cut Azriel's hefty salary by at least half. Still a sizeable portion, but maybe he's start thinking about the consequences to his actions.

"We're here because of Y/N," Mor started and Elain scoffed. Feyre and Nesta were taken aback by the rude behaviour. Having enough of so many problems, Nesta spoke up. "Is there a problem, Elain?" Elain rolled her eyes and picked at her nails.

"Y/N is just jealous that Azriel decided that he didn't want to be with her anymore. Besides, there are so many other males for her, why those she have to target Azriel?" Nesta gritted her teeth, ready to yell at her ignorant sister, but decided against it as Mor began to speak.

"Y/N has contracted something called Hanahaki Disease, a disease cause my unrequited love towards another," This made Elain snort, but Mor continued, ignoring her, "Usually there would be time to try several cures, but in this case, it's..." More trailed off, unable to find the words, unable to utter the thing that would confirm her own fears. Feyre continued for her.

"She's dying. Fast. Madja says we have a day at best, hours at worse," The words were almost unheard, Cassian stared at Nesta, the devastation on her face, he glanced to Azriel, the bastard's face remained impassive, but as he reached to his mind, absolute chaos. Pain. Suffering.

Azriel felt paralysed when he heard the words. He might never be able to make up for the mistake he made. The hurt he caused his lover. But, something made him stop.

"You said usually, there would be more time. What's the difference in this case?" The question made Feyre pause. She glanced at her sister and friend but they both looked unsure. Should they tell him? They had sworn not to tell anyone but in a situation like this...

"You are her mate," Nesta softly muttered. So soft, that if it wasn't for everyone's Fae hearing, they would have passed it off as the wind. Elain gasped ion anger, and Azriel fell to his knees. No. It can't be. He mustn't have heard it right. His mate? But as he reached into his soul, he grasped the at the foreign golden thread that was foreign to him all this time, and tugged it hard. Images flooded his mind and he begun to weep.

The shadow singer, hardened by years of battle, war, and torture, begun to weep as he saw an invisible golden thread reach out, and go through the door where his mate probably was. And for the first time in centuries, he understood her. He saw her pain, her memories, her thoughts.

Horrified, he witnessed himself saying those words to her. Telling her that Elain was more important, telling her that another female was more important than his mate. He wanted to know when she found out about the bond, wanted to demand why she never told him, but now wasn't the time. He needed to get to her.

Faster then anyone could stop him, he got to his feet and ran. Tearing through the door and stopped as he saw her. She was so pale, sweat beaded down her forehead as her breaths were laboured. She wasn't even conscious. Shadows sang as they danced around her figure. Not right. Dying. Sick. Disease.

He felt himself being pulled back by Cassian, asking him to calm down, asking him to listen, but he couldn't. He was panicked. He couldn't leave her, not again, he needed her. He couldn't lose her after just finding out. It took both Rhys and Cassian to haul Azriel away, he screamed after his mate, screamed as he prayed, he didn't know to who, but if there was any slight chance that they'd let her wake up, if there was at least one good thing he'd done in all his existence that allowed him this one good thing, he'd bargain with the Gods for a chance to live the rest of his life with his mate. Would bargain away his own life.

He didn't know how long it was until Madja came out with a solemn look. He didn't know how long it was he stood there when she uttered those defining words. "She might not make it," Before she dragged him to the side.

"What is your relationship with Y/N?" She demanded. Azriel's head spun as he tried to recall what happened. "I...it's complicated," Madja paused at seeing the shadow singer falter after 500 years of walking through life without a care in the world. However, the answer he was giving was not going to help her save Y/N.

"Define it shadow singer! Give me details! Let me know what was happening that she became so ill!" She snapped. Azriel flinched. He knew she had every right to be annoyed at him. He was the cause of the illness and he couldn't even think straight, couldn’t even try to save her.

“I hurt her. I hurt her and I shouldn’t have, I stood her up, and then told her another female was more important. I grew distant. And now she’s suffering. Because of me,” He swallowed and Madja nodded. He ran his hand through his hair. Panic danced in his eyes and Madja sighed. This was complicated, never in all her year did she need to treat such a complicated case, even when Illyrians were on the brink of losing their wings. Even when she had to treat battle wounds that would leave the faint hearted in shambles.

She shook her head, turning to leave, voicing only one instruction as she walked out, “Break off whatever relationship you have with that Archeron Sister, and pray that you’re mate will wake,” He nodded and Madja left the shadow singer feeling empty, feeling as if he had nothing left in the world.

~*~*~*~*~

His foot steps felt heavy as he walked to the living room of the House of Wind. He couldn't believe this. All his life, he'd dreamed of meeting his mate. He'd dreamed of living out his life together with her, and now he might not even get to right the wrongs he had made. He might not even get to tell her that he was sorry for hurting her.

"So? What do we need to do?" Mor demanded as he came into view of the rest. He sighed as looked down at his scarred palms, ones who had done harm to thousands and he hadn't regretted it, not once. Until now. His own mate. Maybe karma really did exist. Maybe he shouldn't have been so cruel to so many people.

"I...I have to break up with Elain or she dies tonight," He said shakily. Everyone stared at him. Elain rolled her eyes once more. “What a drama queen. She’s such an attention seeker, right guys?” She looked around but no one seemed to agree. Her eyes seemed to flicker between surprise and resentment. “You guys are stupid, she’s not dying she’s just faking it,” She tried to say but Cassian brought a hand up, stopping her.

“You, dumb brat. You’re sisters have shielded you all their lives and the one time you have an opportunity that you aren’t just an empty headed child, you blow it!” Nesta tried to calm him down but everyone could tell that a part of her agreed with what her mate was saying. Rhysand then chimed in, “A member of my court, one of my closest friends, is dying. And you have the audacity, the gall, to say that she is attention seeking? I don’t care that you are my mate’s sister, but that disrespect will not be tolerated in my court, even so, my mate would agree with me. You have been born and raised sheltered and shielded from a broken world and instead of being thankful, instead of feeling an ounce of appreciation towards the female who saved your damn life, you ruined hers.” Feyre nodded, and as Elain looked around, she realised that no one was siding with her, not even Lucien.

She huffed, enraged by the outcome of this, before strutting out of the house of Wind. Nesta felt disheartened, she had been so protective of Elain that she had now turned into this uncaring monster, it made her feel like she had failed. Her emotions were echoed down the bond and Cassian turned towards her and hugged her, pressing her against him gently. The scene made Azriel feel alone, and so guilty. He could have had that, if he had just opened his damn eyes, if he hadn’t hurt her the way he did.

But now, he didn’t even know if his mate was going to make the end of the day. And he prayed to whatever god there was out there, that he’d get one more shot to make things right.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Should I make part 2???? Idk T^T Hope you enjoyed <3

PART 2 IS OUT

@aroseinvelaris

If you wanna be tagged: Just ask and remember to specify if you wanna be tagged in just part 2 of this fic, all Azriel fics, any specific character fics/series, or just all my fics in certain fandoms. <3

[incorrectacotarwords]

Azriel: ..You know I can get out of these right? *gestures to the fire bounding him to the headboard*

Eris: *smirks* but do you want to?

Azriel: … *the shadows dance around him playfully*

Eris: …that’s what I thought now, open your mouth to make daddy proud

Shout out to @separatist-apologist for the fire truck

[softpinkprincipessa]

Sorting Acotar characters into Hogwarts houses Part 2:

Azriel - intellect, wit, creativity

[princess-tulip-writes]

“just like that, baby. keep rocking back on my cock like a greedy whore.”

his hands were gripping your waist harshly, pushing you back onto his cock with each thrust into you. by now, the two of you had been in your shared room for hours, both in desperate heat for one another. it was a surprise that your cunt was still slick with your own wet arousal.

azriel’s body was masked with sweat, the shimmering liquid glistening off of his chest, illuminated by the light of the bedside lamp. he was so fucking delicious.

“oh.” you exclaimed, his cock hitting that oh so perfect spot inside of your gummy walls repeatedly—relentlessly. if it wasn’t for your increase in whines, the vice grip that your cunt had on his cock, definitely gave away that you were so close.

“gonna cum, sweetie? hm?” he teased, his voice soft and daring— as if he was testing you. testing to see if you’d cum without his permission, that is.

you nodded frantically, a series of whines leaving your lips as his hips crashed into yours rhythmically, never once failing to kiss into your g-spot.

“i need words.” he ordered, a hand offering off of your now bruised hip, and caressing your face gently, before sliding his thumb into your gasping mouth. he had to stop himself from cumming immediately from the instinctive way that you began to suck obediently on his thumb, no hesitation to be found. “that’ll do i suppose.”