#rhysand x original female character

[myloversthesunrise]

the starless mermaid [i]

FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

AO3

Author's Note: helloo this is my attempt of rewriting ACOTAR with my OC insert, and this is set before the ACOTAR book. if you read my previous series, this is a rewritten version of it and the past version will be discontinued. i hope you'll enjoy it and thank you for sticking by me!

trigger warnings: kidnapping, death by decapitation

Mothers are always right, they say.

Lin supposed it extended to grandmothers and other maternal roles too, though she would rather choke on a Mala soup than admit it out loud to her grandmother.

It was ridiculous how Lin was proven to be wrong during the first and only time she stood up to her grandmother’s words.

Everyone in the village hadn’t called her Scaredy Lin for no reason. Her friends had always rolled their eyes every time Lin meekly denied their invitations to stay out late or sneak away while every parent and elderly gushed at her obedience.

But deep down inside, Lin wished she would have more time with her friends. Sometimes she could hear their laughter as they passed by her cottage and stalked deep into the woods that lie nearby. She knew Ah Ma noticed her longing stares, but her grandmother did nothing but nudge her softly to remind her of the current task at hand.

“The woods aren’t safe after dark,” she chided gently. “You’ll understand one day.”

Her small village was deep in the mountain and surrounded by forests. Some say faeries still remain within the woods, some say ancient magic lurks in there, a trouble waiting to be discovered. Lin had preferred the more rational reasonings of wild animals that roam freely in the woods.

But her friends had never been in any danger. The next day, she would see them in perfect condition—not a single hair missing from their head nor even a scratch on their skin.

So why was she not allowed to go?

The wagon—she had assumed she was on one—rode over a large rock and shook violently, causing her to bounce and hit her head against the chest she was locked in.

It must’ve been hours, she winced internally.

How far is she going?

The darkness and the constant swaying of the wagon had brought motion sickness upon her stomach, and as more minutes passed by, Lin could feel herself getting more and more nauseous. Her hands began to clam up and her body began to sweat profusely. She had to do everything in her power not to throw up inside the damn chest and lie upon her own puke.

Lin clenched her hands into fists and dug her nails deep into her palm. Her mind traveled back into her memory where she had left off before the damn rock interrupted her.

That afternoon, Ah Ma gave her a break from helping at the clinic and Lin didn’t waste the rare chance she had to spend some time with her friends.

Charlotte—daughter of their village headman—had invited Lin to a small gathering she would be having in the forest. Lin had a feeling the invitation would not be extended to her had she wasn’t there to have lunch with them. All the invitations and solicitation for her had died out after they realized it would be easier to fight a bear barehanded rather than have Ruo Lan allow Lin to go out after dark.

Lin’s shoulders fell in disappointment and she tried to mask her sadness with a grin—although she was sure it came out more as a grimace. “I’ll try to ask my grandmother later.”

Lin appreciated how everybody nodded and played along even though they already knew the answer.

A warm hand placed itself upon hers, and Lin’s dark brown eyes met Akane’s.

Akane. Beautiful, graceful, Akane. A few years older than her. Skin as lustrous as a pearl. Soft brown hair that stopped below her ears. A smile that could melt anyone into her will.

They both have dark brown eyes, yet Akane’s eyes always shone with warmth like sunshine on a winter afternoon, unlike Lin’s dark brown eyes which were a few shades too dark and always made people feel like she had been glaring at them.

If people in the village adored Lin as a daughter, they had adored Akane as a beauty.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Akane gently reminded her. “But we would greatly appreciate having you there.”

Her stunning brown eyes stared into Lin’s dark ones and she immediately lost her words.

“Plus,” she continued with a mischiveous grin. “It’d be more fun to have you there.”

Akane’s pretty brown eyes twinkled with mischief—like she knew something Lin didn’t—and her smile was so pretty that Lin held back her breath.

That was all that it took for Lin to agree.

She did not bother to ask Ah Ma for a permission—she had already known the answer.

After her grandmother went inside her room, Lin waited for an hour and a half until she no longer heard any movement inside. She snuck out through their back door—right by the kitchen—and walked down a small path that leads into the woods.

The old, rickety cottage was the furthest one from their village, so it did not take her long to finally enter the woods, only accompanied by a small kerosene lantern that she had hidden behind their cottage beforehand.

There was a well by the forest, only a few meters into it. It had been here before the village was built yet villagers have never used it.

Faerie-made, they said. Nothing good comes out of it.

She did not think how strange it was for Akane not to be there even though Lin was late into their meeting. Lin had not paid attention how quiet the forest was that night, no crickets nor any other animals made their sound. All the thoughts inside her head was filled with “What ifs” and the nerves of her body was filled with the excitement of sneaking out of her curfew for the first time in her life.

The young woman heard was a snap of a twig before her head was hit by a blunt force and darkness clouded her vision.

And then she woke up tied inside an empty chest.

Waking up without being able to see anything and tied up with her body tucked into a fetal position had sent Lin into a crying, sobbing, hysterical fit. Only after choking on her own saliva, Lin had realized that it would be better for her health and respiratory system to stay calm and distract herself.

Lin tried to think of things that would calm her down, and her mind instantly drifted to her grandmother.

Of all the times in my life to get kidnapped, Lin cursed in her head. It just had to be for the first time I snuck out.

She would never hear the end of this from Ah Ma.

Ruo Lan was a stern woman. She was strict with her rules and cheap with her praises. Despite never raising a hand towards Lin, she had always obeyed her words and sought her approval and kind words so desperately.

Her grandmother had always done all the heavy lifting in their cottage and only let Lin start helping her when she was thirteen, yet Lin couldn’t help but worry for her grandmother who would sleep by the fireside when the night gets a bit colder and winced every time she stood up after sitting down for a long time.

Will she be alright? Lin’s train of thought continued as she bit her lip in worry. Who will help her and grab things from upstairs if she needed them? Who would help Ah Ma prepare for dinner?

Lin had worked herself up into another panic and quickly felt her stomach churn. She dug her nails deeper into her palm and chewed the inside of her bottom lip until she could taste a tang of blood inside her mouth, hoping the pain would stop her from throwing up.

Where are they taking her? What was her captor like? Would she be able to fight them off?

Lin had planned on what would happen. The wagon stops, her captor let her out and Lin kicks them in their crotch before running away.

Assuming that she could aim with her blindfold on.

But despite all of her thoughts and attempts to distract herself, there was one question that won’t stop running inside her head.

Why would someone kidnap a nobody like her? And who would do such a thing?

Her village was one of the smalles ones in the kingdom. To fastest road to Lin’s village from the nearby town is to pass through the forest that surrounds the entire village, filled with urban legends of monsters, ancient magic, and faerie horror. The journey alone takes three days through the unpaved road, and if they survive the mythical dangers of the forest, there was still the matter of wild animals and bandits.

The gears inside her head were working hard to the point Lin did not realize the wagon had already stopped until a few minutes later.

Fear and panic shot right through her. Lin tensed up her entire body and memorized her initial plan (kick them in the crotch then run) and waited for further movement.

The chest she was in was quite thick and well-proofed, Lin could barely hear anything but whispering and mumblings from outside. Not a moment later, a low creaking sound was heard, and Lin could feel people walking around the wagon and beginning to lift the weights inside it—judging by the swaying of it.

It went on for at least thirty minutes before the movements stopped and someone jumped off the wagon. The creaking sound went back—a sign that whoever it was had locked the wagon and climbed up the coachman seat before Lin could feel a hard jolt as the carriage began to move once more.

With her tied fists, Lin began to loudly hit on the chest she was trapped in. Her mouth was gagged but it didn’t stop her from attempting to scream or let out any noise to be heard. Using her tied legs, she stomped and kicked as hard as she could while regretting how she had frozen earlier when someone was on the wagon.

A few minutes later, the wagon stopped and Lin went still for a moment before she began to kick harder and scream louder through her gag. Her heart beat faster than a running stallion and she could’ve sworn it would jump out any moment from now.

She felt the wagon shift and realized that the coachman had left the carriage. The young woman stilled and strained her ears, and just as she had predicted, she could hear slow murmurs of a conversation.

Lin tried harder to listen to what they were saying, but before she could catch any words, the familiar creak had been heard once more and the wagon shifted.

A click-clack sound was heard from inside the chest, and Lin knew her captor was unlocking her chest.

She didn’t know that her heart could beat faster than it already did, but it could. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel it trembling in anxiety.

The chest opened with a loud creak, and fresh cold air brushed Lin in her face.

Before she could kick any crotches, her captor lifted her up by her upper arm and dragged her down the cart. Her eyes darted around in panic as she tried to take in her views the best she could.

Trees. Mountain air. No settlements or cabins or houses in sight at all.

She’s deep in the forest. But which forest?

Right at the edge of the wagon, her captor threw her onto the ground and Lin winced behind her gag.

Not wanting to lose momentum, she quickly got up on her knees and took a good look at her kidnapper.

Well.

Kidnappers.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of them both, her ‘captor’ was busy tidying up the cart while the ‘accomplice’—she assumed—was studying her intensely.

The moonlight broke through the tree canopies, shining its glow upon them. Not bright enough to allow Lin to see their faces clearly, but enough to see a pig’s tail growing out of one of their butt.

Lin could’ve sworn she forgot to breathe as her captor turned around and showed off his flat, pig snout to her.

Her head snapped to the accomplice that was still staring at her with his dark eyes, and her eyes finally adjusted enough to the dim lighting to see two pointy ears underneath his curls.

Faeries, she realized in horror. Worse. High Fae.

With wide eyes, she had scrambled back and away using her butt and her tied ankles, completely forgetting her original plans of crotch-kicking and opted to run away.

“Shut up ye’ wench,” a gruff voice snorted.

Lin hadn’t even realized she was screeching in terror until the Piggy Fae snapped at her. Her eyes met his and she began to wiggle away even faster.

“Ge’ back ‘ere!” the piglet cursed at her while pointing his finger as if scolding a naughty puppy.

Her face was wet, and without realizing it, Lin was crying.

What were they going to do to her? Torture her? Eat her? Or… worse?

His accomplice finally straightened up from where he casually stood against a tree with his arms folded on his chest—and began walking towards her.

Her silent cries had turned into loud sobbing and whimpering as he eventually grew closer and grabbed Lin by her upper arm—like her captor had done—and dragged her back to the clearing where they were from.

“Well, she’s in one piece, jus’ as promised.” The piglet explained while gesturing his hands towards Lin. “Wan’ tha’ other half of the paym’n nau.”

So the Piggy faerie was the accomplice and the High Fae is the captor?

Once the High Fae finished dragging Lin back to where they were, he turned his back from Lin.

“Of course,” he answered. His voice was smooth and clear, said with complete certainty. His back covered Lin’s peripheral vision of their interaction.

Lin saw him pulling out a sword and slashed the air with a disgusting schnick.

There was a short moment of silence, before a loud thud was heard.

Her dark eyes darted to the space between the High Faerie’s leg—where she saw the piglet’s head rolling around the ground like a dice on a gambling table before stopping right by his feet.

His eyes were wide open—and they were staring at Lin.

If Lin did not scream earlier, she definitely screamed now.

Her breath was shaking and her entire body was trembling from fear but unlike earlier, the young woman had frozen in place. It was like the sight of a headless body had taken away all of her will to fight.

Lin knew how pathetic she looked right there. Tears were running down her eyes and snot ran down her nose. She whimpering and sobbing like a child—but she couldn’t find herself to stop. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest any time then and Lin was expecting herself to pass out from the unreleased adrenaline running through her—if that’s even possible.

The High Faerie put back his sword to his sheath and turned around to face Lin with an exasperated sigh.

“Please do not make my job any harder than it already is,” he complained as he walked past Lin to the tree where he had stood by earlier.

Lin silently watched as he grabbed a shovel that was leaning on the tree and began to walk around while stomping his feet. Once he deemed the ground was good enough for a grave, he started digging wordlessly.

The repeated and continuous movement he was doing somehow calmed her down, and her sobbing had stopped. Her breathing went back to normal and her head had cleared up.

If Lin’s change from sobbing into utter silence surprised him, the High Fae did not show it.

He didn’t even acknowledge her existence other his earlier remark.

Lin sat as still as a rock. She calmed her breathing and wiped away her snot and tears with her sleeves.

Slowly and steadily, her hands reached down to the binding that tied her ankles together.

Her eyes were trained on the High Fae, not daring to look away from him just for one moment. A part of her said that it was to keep her eyes on the enemy, but she knew that she couldn’t trust herself to not glance at the decapitated head and start having another fit.

He continued digging the grave—gods knew how many hours he would have to do so—with his back facing her.

The High Fae was wearing an armor, she noticed. Black. Nothing bulky, slim yet sturdy. A guard on duty, perhaps? Or an assassin?

Chill ran through Lin’s bone at the thought and she made a harder attempt of unknotting the ties, but it was hard to do so while keeping her eyes on the enemy.

No. Not an assassin, Lin thought.

An assassin would’ve killed her without bothering to kidnap her first.

The fae in front of her thrusted his shovel to the ground and straightened his back for a moment—causing Lin to froze from his sudden change of movement. She held her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t even remember her existence.

He took a deep, exhausted sigh before wiping the swear off his eyebrows. Without any moment longer, the High Fae grabbed his shovel back from where it stood and continued his job.

Lin waited for a few moments—to make sure that he was truly immersed by his duty—before taking her eyes off him for a second to glance at the knot on her ankles and finish unraveling it.

But that second was all it took.

By the time Lin had looked up, the half-dug grave in front of her was empty.

Her heart had dropped to her stomach, and before she could look around, a blunt force hit the back of her head and knocked her unconscious.

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The young woman was peacefully knocked out and curled up by her fireplace.

Her long black hair lied unraveled around her, reminding the faerie of a fair maiden in fairytales. Her cheeks were plump and her lips were small—but not thin—giving her a doll-like appearance.

Unlike her own, her ears were rounded. A human one.

The red-headed faerie noticed a small beauty mark above the right side of her lips.

The same one that Clythia had.

Amarantha jerked back from her niece, where she had knelt by the fireside and studied her niece like a bug under the magnifying glass.

The rumors were true, it seemed. Clythia’s daughter was indeed alive.

At first, Amarantha paid no attention to it. She had heard stories of survivors from Clythia’s entourage, but she had passed it off as lower servants and lesser Faeries. Until a new whisper began to flew from the Mortal Lands, of a black-haired girl with an uncanny resemblance to her late sister.

Still, the Lady Under the Mountain paid no attention to it, even though it nagged at the back of her mind. She had a court to run after all.

Yet, the whisper grew stronger and the story had spread. The young girl lived with her grandmother, a healer with mutilated ears and a scar across her right eye.

That was the moment her blood turned to ice and her fear took over her mind.

Amarantha immediately commanded her right hand to fetch the girl to her. Initially, she wanted to command Rhysand to make it a quick and swift mission, but if it were true that she was Clythia’s daughter…

No. She couldn’t risk her safety nor let Rhysand have a leverage over her. Clythia had died for her baby and Amarantha would not let everything Clythia had fought so hard for to waste.

It took them a week to fetch her—would’ve took Rhysand three days but beggars can’t be choosers, she supposed—and now the young woman was currently sleeping through Amarantha’s crisis.

Her curiosity took over and the High Faerie leaned forward once more to study her niece.

Amarantha noticed her round cheeks—flecked with old acne scars—and her smooth palm. The young girl’s chest rose up and down in steady beats. Her lips were slightly agape and her beauty mark above her lips had reminded her of her sister once more.

But this girl was not her sister.

Her sister would’ve realized she was being watched. She was strong and fierce and none of the softness her ‘daughter’ was.

The sight of her niece’s calm breathing and obliviousness towards what was happening around her angered redheaded faerie.

Her manicured hand grabbed the wine glass by the table and splashed it to the young woman’s face, causing her to wake up with a gasp.

“Wake up, you fool.” Amarantha sneered in anger.

No. She was not Clythia. Clythia would never sleep so easily in front of the enemy, nor would be so unprepared.

The young woman sat up. Her breathing was heavy and uneven and Amarantha could distinctly hear the soft groan that escaped her lips.

Clythia would never do that, she thought to herself. She’d bare her teeth and fought back without any hesitation. A small burst of hope began to grew inside Amarantha.

Perhaps it was all a rumor. A ghost story. And she could kill this girl in front of her, be done with it, and have a restful evening.

The young woman finally looked up to see a High Faerie glaring at her and immediately crawled back with fear shining in her eyes. Her shoulders were hunched in an attempt trying to make herself as small as possible and Amarantha sneered at the cowardice notion.

Their eyes met, and all hope that Amarantha had inside her had vanished into smoke.

Her eyes were dark, almost black. Too dark to be called brown.

But Amarantha knew those dark eyes would glitter like the night sky if she smiled. She knew the beauty mark above her right lip would wink at whoever was lucky enough to see it every time she laughed.

Just like hers.

She had seen them all. In her sister.

Amarantha had desperately wished that she might’ve been wrong.

Yet now that she was awake, there was no mistaking it.

She was Clythia’s daughter. Their curse. The one who unraveled their relationship, their hard work, their entire life, and even ended Clythia’s life.

Amarantha’s breathing grew even heavier. Her head spun and she could feel herself spiraling if she did not take control of herself soon.

The Lady Under the Mountain bared her teeth at her niece. “Do you know who I am?” She snarled. Her nails dug even deeper into her palm, causing a pain that she knew could focus on and stop herself from hyperventilating.

Lin did not trust her voice to be firm and steady, and she could only shook her head. She had thought she would cry and sob again like she had earlier, but it seemed that her tears have dried up and left her with dread and uneasiness and discomfort of being in a new environment instead of the terror that had filled her earlier.

A part of her suspected the decapitated head and seeing it happen right before her very eyes had something to do with it.

Lin carefully raised her eyes to study the faerie in front of her.

Unlike the earlier High Fae, this one was a woman. Her hair was red-gold and her eyes were pitch-black. She was beautiful and terrifying all the same.

The red-headed High Fae glowered at her wordless answer. Her eyebrows were furrowed in frustration as she glared at the ground and despite the dim-lighting by the fireplace, Lin noticed how she bit her bottom lip in concentration. She dragged her hands through her hair and Lin’s eyes followed after it, spotting the golden crown sat atop of her head.

A royalty? Lin’s heart skipped a beat and the gears in head began to turn. She pursed her lips in concentration.

Is she from the Autumn Court? But Lin remembered that the Autumn Court was a highly patriarchal court, and she highly doubted that they would let a woman wear a crown.

Amarantha cursed her recklessness. As soon as she heard the story, she demanded for the young woman to be brought in front of her. But now that she was actually here, Amarantha was at loss of what to do.

What was I expecting? She cursed herself.

Was she expecting her niece to stood up and raise her chin? Was she expecting her niece to be as dangerous as an unsharpened blade like her sister would? Was she expecting her niece to have the same sharp glint in her eyes as her sister had?

A voice inside her answered all those questions.

Yes. Yes. YES.

She wanted to see her sister, or at least a shadow or a reflection or a glint of it. She would’ve claimed her as her own, and raised her the way her sister would have raised her. She would’ve been her successor and the one to continue their glory after Amarantha was long gone.

But what she had was a poor imitation of her sister, and now the red-headed faerie’s plan—or lack of it—was ruined.

Amarantha could always throw her in jail, but the memory of her sister tugged her heartstrings and prevented her to do so. Making her niece into her ward was not an option either. She already had cracks inside her little empire—and having a half-mortal ward would not help her at all.

The Lady Under the Mountain plopped down on the settee and turned to stare at the young woman. Her hand were pinching her chin while being propped up by the armrest. Her dark eyes studied Lin like she was a puzzle she cannot solve.

Lin squirmed uncomfortably under her stare and tried to figure out where to keep her eyes on.

Her gaze darted around the room and studied it the best she could despite the settee in front of her covering the view.

They were sitting by a grand fire place. The settee in front of her was black decorated with gold swirls around it, companied by two other settees with the same coloring on its left and right side of it, creating a U-shape in front of the fire place.

Behind the settee and high up on the wall, Lin could see a black canopy hung against the wall and she guessed that there might be a bed underneath it.

To the right was a hallway, and to the left of where she was sitting—right across the hallway—was a the balcony. The glass door was nearly as tall as the ceiling of the room and was wide opened. Gentle breeze blew in, blowing the curtains in process and bringing in a scent of pine woods and the cold evening air.

The red-headed faerie snapped her fingers and Lin jumped as her head snapped towards her captor.

“Where is the bracelet?” She snapped.

Lin could’ve sworn she saw a slight tremble of the faerie’s hands, but she played it off as a trick of light from the burning fire place.

She licked her dry lips before answering. “What bracelet?” she replied with a hoarse voice.

She rolled her dark eyes at Lin. “The emerald one,” she emphasized on the word ‘emerald’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Silver cuff, with small diamonds around it and an emerald in the center.”

Amarantha caught the recognition that flashed through the young woman’s eyes.

That bracelet was all-too-familiar with Lin. She had tried it multiple times when she was a mere child, playing princesses and pretending she was at a ball as she danced around her small cottage.

Until Ah Ma had sold it when Lin was eight years old and struck with high fever to buy her medicines.

Little Lin whom had not understand the situation had cried all night long at the loss of her favorite bracelet.

“My—my grandmother had sold it,” she stuttered in anxiety. “A long time ago, when I was eight.”

Lin turned her head to look at the High Fae, and saw her posture visibly relaxed as she leaned back against her chair.

“Then find it.”

Unlike early frantic she had, the High Fae was calm as she demanded Lin to find her bracelet. She did not yell at her the way Ah Ma’s patient had done when the wanted to be the first one to get treated—she merely stated it and ordered her to do it as if Lin was fetching water from the well beside her house.

“But—but how?” Lin gaped at her. “It was twelve years ago!”

Her victorious stare was replaced by a cold, scathing one.

“Either you find it,” she threatened as her pitch-black eyes glinted with malice, “Or your grandmother will pay for it with her life.”

Lin flinched under her remark.

Under the moonlight, the High Fae sat upon the settee like a queen on her throne. Her chin was raised high as she sat back in the settee and looked down upon her. Dark eyes pierced through Lin and her red-gold hair stumbled down from her shoulders and the moonlight shone against her crown.

She barely lifted a finger nor raised her voice, yet Lin felt like The High Fae was holding a knife against her throat.

Lin opened her mouth to argue—and closed it tight when she could not find herself any strong defense against the High Fae’s demands.

Amarantha sneered. She leaned forward and her graceful hands grabbed Lin by her jaw, gripping roughly.

“Let me tell you a story, child.” She growled while throwing Lin unto the floor—slamming her cheek against the floor in the process—and leaned forward to pour more wine inside her glass.

Lin tried her best to wince quietly before sitting up to her initial kneeling position.

The red-headed faerie rolled her eyes at her wincing and leaned back to her seat. She took a sip out of her wine, and spoke.

“Your grandmother is one of us.”

Her words felt like a punch to her gut, and Lin did not know where she got the strength to speak up, but somehow she choked up her words.

“No she’s not!” Lin protested and hoped she did not sound like a child. “My grandmother is human.”

Amarantha rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you wondered how she got those scars on her ears? Have you seen her age the way your people do?”

Lin’s heart dropped to her stomach.

When she was younger, Lin had asked about her grandmother’s scar once. It ran through her eye, blinding her permanently in her right eye and terrifying enough to scare anyone from bothering two women who lived alone. She answered that she had gotten it from a battle. She was a healer stationed to help injured soldiers and a raid had happened when she was there.

But when Lin asked about her ears, Ah Ma did not reply. In fact, she did not speak to Lin for the next few days until Lin cried out of guilt and apologized.

Afterward, Lin never mentioned Ah Ma’s ears to her again. But sometimes when Ah Ma wasn’t looking, Lin would accidentally study it.

It was rounded—yet jagged—like someone had cut through it. Rough scars ran through the top of it which confirmed Lin’s theory even further. Lin wondered what kind of battle Ah Ma went to that would have her ears mutilated so horribly.

Lin ignored the ache in her gut of realizing that the High Fae had a possibility to speak the truth and watched as the red-headed faerie took a sip from her wine before continuing her story.

“Ruo Lan was my servant, once.” Lin’s heart skipped a beat when the High Fae mentioned her grandmother’s name. “And she stole a lot more than that—not just the one bracelet I asked you about earlier.”

“After The Great Mortal War,” the faerie continued and piqued Lin’s interest. “Your grandmother grew restless, saying something about how she wanted to settle down and live out the rest of her life in peace.”

“I ignored her, assuming that it was a mere phase of hers and it’d pass soon.” Amarantha waved her hand to emphasize. “But one night, your grandmother ran away from me with a chest of my treasures.”

“Rumors had it that she took a newborn babe from a couple of mortals and ran off to have a secret little family, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself.”

Her grandmother had told Lin that her parents had died in the Great Mortal War.

“I could care less what she chose to do with her life,” she scowled. “What she did was an act of betrayal. She abandoned her master and ran away to chase her hopes and dreams.” The High Faerie rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I could’ve punished her for it, sentenced her to death.”

She turned her obsidian black eyes to stare at Lin’s dark ones.

“But she was a good servant, so I ignored her betrayal and opted to leave her alone with her fantasies of having a happy ending.”

“However,” She glared at Lin while the latter flinched under her stare and tried her best to stand her ground. “I would like my treasures back.”

Lin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Growing up, Lin knew her grandmother did not have many jewels. One is the emerald bracelet the High Fae had demanded earlier, and the other one is a jade pendant. They had never lived lavishly either, barely earning enough to save up. If her grandmother had the luxury of selling those jewels, she had never shown it.

“But if my grandmother was the one who stole it,” Lin asked ever so softly and politely—as if not wanting to upset the High Faerie that could very much kill her with a swipe of her arm. “Then why did you take me instead of her?”

Lin saw a ghost smile on the faerie’s lips. She lifted up her wine glass as if raising a toast.

“A treasure for a treasure,” the faerie gloated with a triumphant glint in her eyes. “She took my treasure, and I took her treasure.”

Lin frowned and opened her lips to argue but before she could speak, the High Fae tutted at her while waving her index finger from side to side, as if scolding a naughty child.

“It’s either you stay here with me,” the faerie chided. “Or I take your grandmother’s life as a payment.”

Once again, Lin thought she would cry as soon as the faerie said those words, but all that was left was a terrible stomachache that happens when she was under a lot of pressure and chest pain coming from the stress.

She took in a long, shaky breath before speaking.

“If I stay here,” Lin asked with a trembling voice—as if she was one nudge away from tears. “Will you leave my grandmother alone?”

Her dark eyes met the faerie’s pitch-black ones. If Lin was going to give her life away, then she wanted to make sure that it would not be in vain. She did not care if the High Faerie was right and Ah Ma had lied to her during her entire life. Lin knew her grandmother loved her, and that was all that mattered. She wanted her grandmother to live out the rest of her life in peace.

Amarantha held her gaze and swore, “I promise.”

Lin’s gaze slowly faltered under her shark-like stare and she quietly nodded before bowing her head.

“I’ll stay.”

Her voice was only slightly louder than a whisper, but Amarantha had heard it nonetheless and curled her lips into a triumphant smirk.

“Swear it,” she demanded. “Bargain with me.”

The red-headed faerie held out her arm and Lin stared at it like a snake that was about to strike.

“Say it out loud after me,” the faerie commanded.

“In the place of my grandmother’s life, I am bargaining my own to forever be with my master until death separates us.”

Lin tried not to cringe at how the High Faerie addressed herself as her ‘master’.

But she had no choice.

So Lin raised her own hand to meet the snake’s bite and grasped it tight to mask her trembling hand.

“In the place of my grandmother’s life,” Lin denounced loudly to stop her voice from shaking. “I am bargaining my own to forever be with my master.”

Lin shook her hand with the High Fae’s.

“Until death separates us,” she swore.

When their hands shook, Lin had expected something to shift. Perhaps she would bear a mark of their bargain or something would feel different in the air.

Something.. magical.

But it felt like nothing, other than the fact she had sold her soul to a monster. It was a normal handshake with the price of her life.

She was almost disappointed. Almost.

“Aspen!” the red-headed faerie suddenly called out, causing Lin to jump.

Lin heard the sound of a door being opened and closed, proceeded by the sounds of footsteps.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

Lin’s head snapped towards the source of the sound and saw her first captor standing merely a few steps away by the fireside. His hands were folded behind his back a

Her first thought was beheading.

Her second thought was how she was going to be the next person to be beheaded.

Her third thought was if it was possible to run past two High Faes to jump off from the balcony and straight to her death.

Fortunately for Lin, it was all unnecessary.

‘Her Majesty’ nodded her chin towards Lin.

“Take her to the dungeon,” she commanded. “And make sure no one else knows of her existence.”

‘Aspen’ nodded, and walked towards Lin to grab her by the arm. Lin turned her head to protest to the red-headed High Fae, but before she could speak, the world around her shifted and twisted along with her stomach and she had to grip her hands in fist to hold in the content of her stomach.

But when her feet finally touched the ground (when did they start flying?), Lin knelt over and threw up.

Her throat ached, her stomach was in pain, her body was dripping in cold sweat, and she had never felt as disgusting as she did in that moment.

Lin didn’t have to look to know that her captor (the pig decapitator) was standing five feet away with a wince plastered on his face. “Why couldn’t you throw up in the bucket?” he complained.

Once she was sure she had nothing else to be let out, Lin wiped her mouth with her sleeves and took a few steps back from her puddle of puke.

Lin’s eyes hazily darted around and sure enough, there was a bucket siting one inch away from her mess.

“Here,” Aspen snapped and shoved a glass of water towards her and splashing the top of her dress in progress.

Lin did not care. She grabbed it and gargled a gulp of water inside her mouth to rinse the disgusting taste of her puke. Keeping it inside her mouth, she jumped over her puddle and grabbed the bucket before throwing it up inside it. Lin gulped, gargled, and threw it up and repeated the process until she was sure that her mouth had tasted back to normal.

“Thanks,” she mumbled while handing back her glass.

Aspen grunted and threw the glass back into where it took it from.

Usually, Lin’s nosiness would’ve made her look but she was too sick to care. Her hands gripped on the bar and breathed heavily, trying to collect herself.

Wait. Bar?

Lin opened her eyes and turned to look to where she was leaning on.

Sure enough, there was a bar. Bars, to be exact. As tall as the ceiling and completely covering the room behind it.

Aspen opened the door, grabbed her arm, and threw her inside one of the cells. Lin did not even have the energy to protest nor fight back.

Her bum fell on the floor and she watched helplessly as the faerie locked her jail cell with keys before pocketing it.

Not magic? She frowned in daze.

For so-called monsters born with magic running through their blood, they seemed awfully… human.

To her surprise, Aspen flicked his finger towards her puddle of vomit. Then, Lin watched as it slowly moved to the drain until there was nothing left of her mess.

But it didn’t stop there.

A closet opened itself and a mop accompanied with a bucket walked out. A few seconds later, a bottle of what she assumed to be a floor cleaner followed suit.

The bucket stopped under a faucet. Aspen flicked his fingers once more and it opened itself, pouring water inside the bucket followed by the floor cleaner, leaving a distinct smell of apple. The faucet turned itself off, the mop dipped into the bucket and began to clean the floor, especially the spot where she had vomited earlier. It squeezed the filthy water out by the drain, and floated towards the faucet where it was magically turned on again and began to rinse itself.

Not long, the mop floated back to the bucket and sneaked inside the cell adjacent to hers and began mopping it clean.

So they do have magic.

From the corner of her eyes, Aspen straightened up and Lin snapped her head towards his.

“Wait!” She cried out.

Aspen surprisingly turned and waited for her to have her words.

“I—” she stuttered. “How long will I be here?”

He shrugged. “Until the High Lady says the otherwise.”

High Lady?

“Will you remind her of my existence?” Lin carefully asked.

“If she’s in a good mood.”

Lin nodded. She supposed it was the best bargain she could get in this situation. Her eyes met his and she thanked him quietly. “For cleaning the floor,” she elaborated.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Aspen said matter-of-factly. “I hate winnowing in to the smell of puke and shit.”

If Lin was sober enough, she’d ask what he meant by ‘winnowing’, but her lingering nausea shut her up and rendered her weak.

The young woman sighed dejectedly before finding a corner of her cell and curling up against it.

Aspen took one long glance around the room before meeting Lin’s gaze once more.

“Try not to die before the High Lady visits you,” he asked.

Lin could’ve sworn she heard something about the “High Lady” blaming Aspen if it ever happened, but all the stress and shock finally came down upon her and she passed out cold before she could hear the rest of his sentence.

[bluetimeombre]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the next battle was worse.

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

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

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

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

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

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

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

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

It only got worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

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

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

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

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

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

'Y'n.'

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

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

'Elian, Azriel-'

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

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

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

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

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

He didn't have to be told twice.

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

Mate. Mate. Mate.

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

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

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

Mate. Mate. Mate.

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

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

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

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

Mate. Mate. Mate.

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

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

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

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

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

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

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

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

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

'What?' said Rhys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

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

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

'She-She told me,'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian held him back, physically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Of course I cared.'

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

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

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

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

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

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What happened?' you asked.

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

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

'What?'

He gulped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

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

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

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

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

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

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

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

'You're everything.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'It's not that-'

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

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

'Mother above,' you sighed.

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

Your family, safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhysand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

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

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

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

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

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'You'll always be my sister.'

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

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

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

'What's going on with you two?'

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

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

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hesitantly, you followed in.

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

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

[alyslittlehaven]

'Of Shadows And Moonlight'

Azriel x Moonlight Weaver!Oc (AKA Ezme.)

ACT I. 'Wind and Firelight.'

Prologue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlest-w01f]

Blooming Flowers

Pairing: Rhysand x Original Female Character

MAIN MASTERLIST

A betrothal, between the heir of Night Court and the youngest and only daughter of the Spring Court. It was a bargain made by the two High Lords, to make peace between the two ends of Prythian.

But it was not to be. A marriage couldn't fix what the two males would do to each other's families, not much could. Not if the so-called betrothed grew to despise each other, not if those two refused to marry.

Content Table:

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (coming soon)

(all characters belong to SJM, the writer of the ACOTAR series, except for Evelyn, my original character)

(any images/gifs used in the series do not belong to me until stated otherwise)

[stormhearty]

Death's Magic

Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for awhile, though the original idea had a merge with the World of Harry Potter, I thought it might have been better and easier to just keep it in the world of ACOTAR but change up a few things. please do forgive if I have some wrong information, I have only read up to ACOWAR. This scene is based on chapter 58-59 of A Court of Mist and Fury when Velaris was attacked by the Attor-like creatures. Also, I wrote this in Notion and decided to put it in Word to see how long it was — it was 5+ pages and I was like wow.

Summary: When the truth of your powers is revealed to your bonded mates, Eris and Rhysand, and your Court, histories are exposed, insecurities are talked about. But you know… all you know despite the navigating that your mates will always be with you.

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: death, fighting, insecurities

Parings: Eris x Death!Reader x Rhysand (feat. Night Court characters)

“You will never know how that child’s feels…” Armen growled, silver eyes glowing as she glared at the two lords that held her lady. Eyes shifted from the two males, that was bonded to the female that was at the center of everything, those silver eyes shifted from pure anger to something softer — something that was rarely seen with the ancient being. Eris brought you closer to his arms, as he watched Rhysand’s hand gently caress your brows, the two of them hoping you’d wake up to explain what had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

It had been a long day for everyone in that room — the attack on Velaris by the Attor by Hybern, shook everyone to their core. None of them thought that the King would be able to break through the shields that surrounded the city; however, he did and almost plunged their home into destruction. Cassian and Azriel were barely able to winnow to the city on time to try to defend it. Mor had been away on official business while Armen was with Varian at the Autumn Court with Eris to try to convince Eris’ father to fight against Hybern. Velaris’ High Lord was on a search, attempting to find Myriam and Drakon to help with the looming threat that is Hybern. It had left the city vulnerable, the King believing it was an easy attempt to wipe out its growing enemy without its High Lord and protectors. However, it was futile, unaware of the shadow and darkness that lingered there — that you had stayed behind to quietly protect the city.

When you had been introduced by Armen to the Inner Circle, you were a person of mysterious origin — the Inner Circle very wary about you, for a very good reason. The only reason why you were able to stay in Valeris was because of Armen. She was able to find you a place to stay in the outskirts of the city, accompanying you to every Inner Circle meeting and staying by your side while you had adjusted to your new life. Whenever Rhysand had inquired about you — your history, your origin, you in general, Armen had become over-protective — silencing the Night Court Lord with just a glare.

“Her past is something I cannot share. She has her own darkness, that she has to hide to live with us in the light. Do not inquire anymore than you should. She is loyal, that is the only thing you should know about her,” was the only thing that Armen would ever share.

You had accompanied him and the Inner Circle — as the substitute of Armen when the ancient being was busy or reluctant of accompanying the group to another Court. You had been nothing but a whisp of shadow during those times, similar to Azriel, hiding within the shadows, watching over those who lived in the light.

One day when you had accompanied Rhysand to the Autumn Court to visit its High Lord. Another attempt to convince the Vanserra Lord to rally against Hybern. When the two of you had stepped into the massive throne room, you were greeted by the eldest Vanserra son. The three of you looked at one another before you felt a snap against your chest.

You pressed a gloved hand against your chest, it was an unusual feeling for you; however, you watched as the High Lord and the High Lord heir collapse onto their knees, feeling on how strong that snap was against their chest.

Brows furrowed as you watched them in confusion — their panting, and their equal amount of confusion as they looked at each other before turning to you, violet and amber eyes staring at you. Silence surrounded the three of you, and a heartbeat later, the two of them stood up, slowly surrounding you. Tilting your head up to look at the two, confusion still evident in your features, “… Are you two alright?” you voiced.

Apparently you had no idea what had just transpired, and the only thing that had to be said was, “… You are our mate…”

It had been a long, winding road for Eris and Rhysand to accept that they shared a mate. It was difficult… you rarely opened up to either of them, it was a slow tedious thing, and Eris was rarely available to grow the mating bond with you. The three of you had to meet in secret to ensure the safety of this bond. The bond had made both males over protective and Rhysand understood why Armen was so, over you. Both of them could feel the obscurity on your side of the bond, them understand that you had no idea what it had meant to be in a Cauldron-blessed bond. It took a lot on both their end to figure you out, open you up to the point you trusted them, and in turn, trust you.

By the time Rhysand had winnowed to the House of Wind where the Attor had been successful in infiltrating, the High Lord had found you — your delicate stature fighting against the Attor. Magic fighting against magic, anything that Attor tried to use against you would bounce off the glimmering shield of darkness that surrounds you. Rhysand watched you, your movement swift and smooth, much like the creature you fought; as if you were the wind itself, you were shadow itself. He felt the air move around him, feeling his brothers and the rest of the Inner Court arriving, watching the scene fold in front of them. Rhysand watched as Armen arrive with Varian in toe, eyes widening slightly as he saw Eris arrive along with them. Eris moved, fighting against the wind that swirled around the throne room towards the High Lord of Night Court, towards his mate. Eris placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, a movement of support as they locked eyes for a moment before looking back at the fight — back to the third of their mating bond — towards you.

All of them watched as a slender hand reached above, magic pulsating around them as another wind of glimmer and darkness wafted through the air — growing wider and bigger. Rhysand watched as that shield surrounded not only him but his family and soon his whole home. Eyes looking out the window to see a swarm of Attor-like creatures, flying towards the open balcony, attempt to enter the House of Wind, only to be stopped by the barrier. The magic preventing the destruction of his home.

A high shrill scream returned his attention to the action, Rhysand’s body entering into fight mode. Violet eyes looked back at fight, watching as your figure was enshroud by a shadow, one that grew large until it was large enough to reach the ceiling of the throne room. Cloaked in black robes, hood drawn over its head — a creature much like the Attor itself, much like the Suriel, something similar to the Bone Carver in the Prison, to the Weaver in the Middle — but they knew that this creature was nothing like the previous, it was something darker… something more powerful. They watched as the shadow extended its hand, a hand — nothing but bone and tendon exposed, pointing its long bony finger towards the Attor, who had knelt on its knees, bony prominences pressed against the marble floor — panting, blood and sweat clinging onto its cloak as if it was apart of it. When that bony finger touched the top of its head, another scream tore from the Attor’s throat, its body disintegrating into nothing but ash.

The air stilled, and the shadow faded away, leaving your figure in its wake. Time seemed to pause as they watch you tilt your head slightly before turning their direction. When your eyes — dark as the night sky, dark as black locked eyes with him before drifting to Eris’ by his side. You had given them a soft smile, eyes squinting into crescents their names nothing but a whisper against your lips before you body collapsed onto the floor.

Eris was the first one to come out of the stupor, his body immediately running towards yours. He skidded onto his knees as he heaved your body into his arms, a hand against your cheek to try to wake you up. Rhysand was hot on his heels, kneeling on the other side of your figure, sharp talons against you mind, trying to probe through the darkness that had shrouded your mind.

That is where it landed you now. The Inner Court at the Townhouse, your body still in Eris’ arms as both High Lords tried to interrogate the ancient being to tell why you had not woken up. Armen did not tell them anything, her stubbornness tenfold when it came to you; but it was hesitant now, knowing that the males that held you would stop at anything to ensure your safety.

A heartbeat of silence surrounded the room before Armen sighed.

“I pray the Mother would forgive me…” she muttered before she steeled herself against the stares of her family, “(Y/N)… is a God Made into a High Fae. When I had escaped the Prison, she was standing outside, an empty shell. I didn’t know what kind of God she was but she was lost as I and, that, immediately made us stick to each other. I had adapted faster to this world that she did, and so I kept her hidden while I became part of this world — part of your Court. I looked, looked into books, looked into the past, talked with the Gods of Old in the Prison to find out what she was…”

Eyes looked from Rhysand and Eris, to your form that was resting soundly in their arms.

“… She is Death itself. Death reincarnate. The Bone Carver, the Attor, the Suriel all made in her likeness… or what she used to be. The reason why she couldn’t… assimilate easily as I do was because she was never even part of this world originally. And so when that bond snapped between the three of you, I was surprised.”

Rhysand and Eris glanced at each other, remembering that moment when it was revealed to Armen that they were your mates. The surprise and hesitance in her features — it all made sense. You were a God and they were Cauldron-bound to you. You were as old, even older than Prythian itself. And yet you were mated to the two of them.

Armen shrugged, another sigh escaped her lips. Varian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her, “She was like a child, lost in this world. She didn’t know of her powers, it sometimes leaked out of her… You all have seen it.”

And they have, the flittering of shadows and darkness. Everyone had thought originally it was from Azriel — lights flickering when you were angry, shadows and night seeped out of your fingertips when you were training with Cassian. And all unknown to you.

“She has been trying to figure out herself, figure out her powers… She doesn’t know how to use it to her full conscious. Both of us have tried to rein in her powers, make it fully under her control.”

“… So what happened earlier?” Azriel questioned from his position in the corner of the room, his tone tight, “That thing that she had summoned that disintegrated the Attor.” The shadowsinger wasn’t mad, he was more frustrated than anything — they were your family, and yet you hid this part of you from them.

Another shrug from Armen, “I’ve tried to read… read anything concerning her. That thing I am unsure of. All I could think of —”

“The Grim…”

Eyes snapped towards your form, Eris and Rhysand looked down at you as you started to awaken. Apparently, you knew what they were talking about.

“It’s called the Grim…” you opened your eyes, your eye color back to normal — not the black color they had seen after the battle, but your own, ‘…A servant of Death itself.”

“(Y/N), Darling…” Rhysand breathed, as he kneeled in front of you as Eris shifted your form in his arms so that Rhysand could hold your cheeks, assessing you, ensuring you were unharmed. While Eris pressed his lips against the crown of your head, muttering, “Thank the Mother…”

A small smile tugged at your lips, feeling the bond tugged at both ends from your mates, eyes fluttering close as you let a wave of assurance down the bond. It had taken awhile for you to get used to using it to give comfort to both males, and longer for you to accept any sort of feeling from their end.

Once hands were off of you, Eris helped you to sit on the couch, large hands from both of your mates steadying you as you looked back at Armen. Your eyes staring into her silver ones, unvoiced betrayal in your look — Armen had promised to never let anyone know of what you were — and yet here she was, exposing your history. She let out a whimper, her way of apologizing to you before Varian wrapped her in his arms.

Silence again filled the room before the shuffling of feet. You had assumed that Rhysand had asked for everyone to leave, leaving you with your two mates. You took a breath, in and out, trying to rein in whatever you were feeling at the moment — you didn’t know what to feel.

Sure, you were exhausted, the fight with the Attor depleted your magic. You had not only protected yourself but the whole of Velaris with your magic. That you could deal with, but not this raw emotion of betrayal from your friend. Deep down, you knew that Armen only did what was necessary, to ease the tension in the room — to try to explain what had happened with you and the Attor hours before — to prove that you belonged there with them. That you were not a threat, that you were not an enemy to the Night Court. You knew that. You would talk to Armen properly later.

No matter how many centuries had passed, you were still figuring out your powers… still figuring out yourself. Today was another thing you’d have to figure out… and you wondered if, now, you have to figure it out yourself.

A tug at the golden string in your chest made you look up, staring at the violet hues of the third of your mate. Rhysand had looked at you were such worry, brows furrowed as he assessed you, a caress of your mental shields from his end. Another tug at that string made you look up at Eris, a similar look of worry sat on his face. You took another breath, one that shuddered through your figure before you reached out, both hands extended, to your mates only to pause in midair.

They were tainted with black, as if your fingertips were necrotized, as if the darkness lingered on you. A frown tugged on your lips, as you assessed them, retracting them slightly as if afraid to touch your mates with such hands. Hands were immediately on your wrist, your right in Rhysand’s and your left in Eris’, as you watched both of them press your hands against their chest, showing that you weren’t going to hurt them.

“…I’m sorry…” you slowly apologized, not even sure of what you were apologizing about. Was it the fact that you withheld your past from them? Or was it just the need to apologize to them.

You heard twin sighs before you felt identical kisses on the top of your head and that alone wrecked your body into another strong shudder, tears lining your eyes. You didn’t want to not tell them about you, you just… you couldn’t. You didn’t even know what you were, you didn’t know the extent of your powers.

“Is that the reason why you never told us? Even after the bond made itself known?” Rhysand asked, as he pulled away to look at you with a raised brow, “That you were Death? That you didn’t know yourself nor your powers?”

All you could do was nod your head, teeth biting into lower lip, as if you were a child being reprimanded, “… I was trying to figure it out,” you started off, fingers bunching at both of their shirts, to try to ground yourself to at the moment, eyes dimming for a moment before returning to the now, “Trying to figure myself out, my powers, to fit into this world. I just felt so…” a shrug lifted your shoulders, “I’m sure Armen told you… I felt lost, out of control. Like I was not here and here at the same time. That my powers had a mind of their own, controlling themselves through me. I just… didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eris and Rhysand always had seen it, how spaced out you were at times. Even with the bond between the three of you, your bond seemed frazzled, and much longer than the one that had connected the two males. They had worked so hard to get to you, to have you be in the moment with them, to be connected to you. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t doing the same, you worked with them… got used to being part of the Court, to be part of something much bigger than yourself — to be part of them. You had opened up to them, slowly but surely. You accepted the bond with much courting from both of the High Lords — many dates, many stolen kisses, many whispers during the night.

But hearing you, sound more vulnerable than you’ve ever been before, even during those moments at night when both Eris and Rhysand had expressed their darkest fears, their worries to you, they had never seen you more powerless.

Fingers slipped from their grip on their shirts, as you brought them back closer to your body, wringing your fingertips as if an attempt to wash off the stained darkness that lingered on your skin, “I also… didn’t want to scare either of you…” you confessed, almost a whisper, “The bond was formed and you two were almost fighting tooth and nail at each other at times —” a chuckle from both of the males made a small smile tug onto your features, “ — All the while ensuring that this bond was going to work. You guys set a lot of your differences aside to…” tears eventually overflowed, “Make sure that I was okay. And yet…”

You felt choked up. They had worked so hard in this bond, and yet… you didn’t even tell them — about who and what you were, you held the truth from them. Insecurities started to build up in you — that you were not meant for this bond, you didn’t deserve to be part of the Night Court… or any other court in that matter… that you weren’t meant to have such amazing mates — High Lords in the matter of a fact.

Your insecurites zip lined through the bond and it smashed towards Rhysand and Eris, and they couldn't help but tear up as well. Eris gently picked you up and back into his lap, strong, secure arms wrapping around your body, letting the bond open wide to provide you comfort and show how much he had loved you. Rhysand mimicked that, showering you with love and attention; reaching out to hold your hands in his.

“Oh sweetheart…” Eris hummed into your hair, pressing kisses on the top of your head, “… You should never be sorry about anything… It had been hard to understand from our side. We wondered on why you withheld such an important piece of yourself away from us; we had thought it was because you never trusted us fully —”

You were about retort up at him, only to have Eris press a kiss on your lips to silence you. He hummed before pulling back to gaze at you.

“— But, now we understand, and we're not going to reprimand you for it. Just know that we love you and, gosh…” a laugh escaped his chest, causing you to blink up at him in surprised, “You would never scare us away, (Y/N)… Not before finding out what you are, and not now, after finding out your Death reincarnate…”

“And…” you heard Rhysand shuffle into his feet before flopping down next to the both of you, taking your form from Eris’ lap and onto his own. Your two mates situated themselves — you on Rhysand’s lap, while your legs laid on Eris’ thighs.

“The thing with your powers… we can figure them out together. We can go to Day Court, ask Helion if they have any books about you and your powers…” he hummed softly, tilting your head up to press a kiss on your lips, “And even if we don't… All three of us will figure it out together..”

You smiled against his lips, nodding your head.

Eris reached over and gently held your chin to tug your lips towards his way, placing his own kiss.

“Can you imagine, Rhys…” The Autumn Heir murmured against your lips, “That our mate is in history books? Her name written for everyone to remember?” He teased, another kiss on your lips.

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, “Well… she is amazing…”

A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled away from Eris’ lips, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other holding Rhysand’s hand that was around your waist.

“Well…” you whispered as you looked at both of them, their eyes shining as they looked at you, “Your names will be right beside mine then… We’ll ask Helion to fix those books…”

Chuckles escaped all three of you, as you remained in their arms, as you basked in the love and care of your two mates.

Even though you are uncertain about the future, the prospect of navigating your powers, you know at least your family and your mates were there to help you every step of the way.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

[jollyinmadness]

Of Canopies and Twines: Chapter 1, Solas | Azriel x OFC

Pairing: Azriel x Original Female Character

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Minor Azriel x Elain. References to sexual thoughts. Very vague references to a genocide. Cursing.

Summary:

When an unknown curse starts spreading through the Night Court's lands, the Inner Circle is forced to seek help in the wisdom of Day's vast libraries. Among the dusty tomes, they are met with a mysterious female who wields magic that may yet be the key to their problem.

Kira, one of the few surviving Purifiers, will have to leave her reclusiveness on the shores of the Continent and learn what her ancestor's vow really means.

Azriel will be forced to reconcile his follies, step out from his shadows and push against his shortcoming with nothing but the scarred skin of his hands.

After years of lucky breaks, will the Inner Circle succeed one last time? Or will their fate rest in the hands of an outsider who has more to lose than gain in helping them?

Then again, the Cauldron is forever being stirred by the Mother and no one escapes the yarn on the embroidery of their lives.

Azriel’s hands were hidden under his armpits as he walked the empty streets of Velaris. The faelights in the Palace of Thread and Jewels still shone brightly, though many of the shops had their doors shut and signs turned to say ‘closed.’ 

He had just left a seamstress’s shop and regretted not accepting a jacket for the suit Rhysand ordered on his behalf. Despite having many in his closet, Rhysand noted that he only owned outdated ones and needed to, quote, freshen up. After a few adjustments, the seamstress had ushered him into the cold street with a smile, saying she was celebrating tonight and needed to get ready too. 

During the longest night of the year, even this part of the town closed down, its habitants retiring to dining rooms with their families. As Azriel passed by houses that hadn’t closed their blinds, he dared to peek in if even for the smallest moment. More often than not, he saw children running around a table while the adults prepared utensils and plates, scolding the little ones for not being careful enough. It caused the corners of his mouth to lift, seeing these people so free of worry that they didn’t even care to draw their curtains. 

His feet moved on their own accord, walking the familiar paths. Something unsettled and grew restless inside his bones as he thought of the estate he was heading to. This year, his own family was meeting in the River House to celebrate the Winter Solstice and the attendance was bound to be plentiful. 

He had already helped Feyre decorate, while Rhysand looked after little Nyx. This year would mark his first Solstice and everyone was eager to make it the most memorable one. Nyx put up the first decoration on the tree but when he was handed a garland from paper, he had torn it in half which elicited a laugh from Azriel and a gentle scolding from both his parents.

Considering he was Rhysand’s son, he was surely going to be a handful once he learned how to talk back and run away.

During it all, Azriel had noted Cassian’s lack of presence, though his brother was most likely hunting down some last-minute gifts before the shops closed for the evening. And last he heard, his mate was up in the House of Wind, preparing with Emerie and Gwyn. Emerie had been spending the last few days with her and Azriel could tell the Illyrian female felt out of place here even after months of daily training. The priestess, on the other hand, had promised Nesta she would spend the dinner with her, before returning to the Library for the evening service. 

Gwyn had shown so much growth since her arrival to Velaris and after the Rite, after she cut the ribbon, Azriel noted how she looked to the sky with a renowned longing. Some of the fear and reluctance had fallen off and in its place had grown courage and curiosity. Perhaps her trip to the River House was a stepping stone.

His mind shifted to the rest that were bound to be present and Azriel wondered what Elain was up to. Whether she was trying on dresses and picking out the ones Azriel would love to see on the ground of his private quarters. 

He hadn’t seen her since a few days ago when he had walked past the kitchen in the River House and beared witness to her gentle chuckles. Her hands were covered in flour and his two trusted shadow wraiths talked in hushed voices to her. Not even his shadows were quick enough to catch onto what was being said because when the three had noticed him, their words died down just like their laughter. 

Cerridwen and Nuala had sketched a quick bow to Azriel, much to his dismay but Elain only stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. It had made the air in the kitchen warmer and as she offered him a soft smile. He had disappeared into the shadows after nodding at her. Nodding. 

What a fool he was, pining after a female who was mated to another male, let alone allowing himself such a visceral reaction to simple things like smiles. Foolish, indeed. 

Feyre had mentioned in passing that Lucien was bound to make an appearance during the night. He didn’t let himself feel insulted. The voice inside his head was telling him that Feyre could see right through him and thought him fragile. He didn’t need to be notified of guests, especially Lucien.

Azriel sighed, blowing a white cloud into the biting air and hoped Rhysand had enough chairs for everyone. 

A shiver ran through him when, at last, the front gate to the River House appeared at the far end of the street. He quickened his pace, hands pushing the gate open. His dress shoes clicked against the stone walkway leading to the front door and before he reached for the knob, he pulled at his suit. His scarred hand ran through his hair, fixing and making sure he looked presentable before tackling the entirety of the Inner Circle. 

The shadows curled around his ear, telling him that everyone was already somewhere in the house except for Amren and Varian, who were Mother-knew where and doing Mother-knew what. Azriel didn’t care enough to know. 

With one last inhale, he braced himself for an eventful evening and opened the door. He followed the sound of chatter and bottles clinging to the decorated family room where everyone was gathered. 

The first person to notice his entrance was Cassian. “Az, brother, there you are!”

He came up to Azriel, stuffing a crystal glass full of aged rum into his hand and wrapping a shoulder around him. Cassian was already inebriated, Azriel could tell as their wings brushed on accident. Nesta sent subtle stares their way from the corner of the room while nursing a cup of grape juice and making sure he was still standing upright. She made some comment to the two Valkyries near her, making them giggle while watching.

Cassian and Nesta were still considered to be newly mated and Azriel avoided the House of Wind with fervor. Especially after Feyre and Rhysand had given it to them as a mating gift. He had been planning on vacating his room and moving to the Townhouse way before that but he dreaded packing all of the trinkets decorating his shelves. He would have missed the silence too hadn’t it been replaced by sounds of rabid fucking. Even the dining table wasn’t safe from their ministrations and a small part of Azriel grew jealous at it.

“You should stop with the drinks if you plan on participating tomorrow,” muttered Azriel, still cheering his glass with Cassian’s.

Cassian laughed, the sound joyous and open. “I will end your winning streak this year, spymaster.”

“No, I think it will mark my two hundredth win,” Azriel remarks absentmindedly, elbow shoving itself into Cassian’s ribs. Cassian didn’t take to that lightly and while balancing his almost empty glass, he put Azriel into a chokehold with a boom of laughter. He ruffled his hair while promising utter devastation come tomorrow morning. 

Cassian’s technique wasn’t sloppy despite being drunk but it took one smooth move for Azriel to free himself and knock back the contents of his glass.

“I would save the energy, Cass,” he told him, unfastening the button on his jacket.

Cassian grinned. “Or I can beat you now and eliminate the competition.” 

Before they could begin to play-wrestle, Feyre cleared her throat, staring them down. “No fighting in front of Nyx,” she reminded them. “Besides, Az just arrived and you’re already wrinkling his suit! Get off of him, Cassian.”

“A suit I paid good money for,” whispered Rhys from beside his mate, his ankle resting atop his knee. The tips of Azriel’s ears went red and once he pushed Cassian off, he heard a soft, female chuckle behind him. 

Without a thought, he turned his head, his shadows scattering at the sight in the doorway. Words escaped him like they always did in Elain’s presence and instead, he stared down at her. 

Her hair was done half-up half-down, decorated with little white flowers she was sure were grown by her own gentle hands. Baby breaths, he recalled her saying. As his face traveled from those brown eyes looking at him with mirth, his breath caught somewhere on its way from his lungs and to his mouth. A light pink dress made of the softest fabric adorned her curves, pooling and shimmering around her feet like a waterfall. The color and the design reminded him of that one time he stayed in the Day Court. Sun had just risen and painted the entire sky a brilliant pink and small puffy white clouds dusted the horizon.

At once, he willed his shadows to enshroud him again and stepped from the doorway, his eyes never leaving hers. His only thought was on that necklace in his breast pocket, still undecided on whether he should give it to her or not. Seeing her, he couldn’t help but notice that the little rose pendant would go perfectly with the dress. There and then, his mind was made. He would put the petite box on the pile later once everyone had gone to sleep. 

Somebody behind her cleared their throat and it was the only reason Azriel noticed the fire-haired male. 

Lucien’s stare softened considerably as the golden eye shifted from Azriel the moment their eyes met. The emissary chose to ignore him, instead put a gentle hand on Elain’s upper back that Azriel traced with his eyes. As they crossed over the threshold, it was all he could do once the scent of their unaccepted mating bond filled the room. 

Sometimes, Azriel thought to himself, the Mother had a cruel sense of humor. 

Azriel leaned against the wall, letting the murmur of his shadows take the attention from Elain and Lucien. He listened, ignoring questioning stares from Rhysand and focusing on the sauntering female making her way to the family room. 

He turned his head just in time to be met with Mor’s profile appearing in the doorway. She was holding a bottle of wine and smiling, love filling her eyes as they went over everyone present. The familiar faces and the new. Azriel noticed how she took a while to look at the Illyrian female next to Nesta and he noticed Emerie staring right back. He bit back the small smirk fighting to be shown. Though once she had her fill, the last person whom she graced with her glance was Azriel. 

They shared a knowing look and at last, it was void of any tension or anxiety. “Hey, Az,” she said, a gentle smile on her lips. 

He dipped his chin. “Mor.”

He saw a flurry of brown hair before a muffled “Mor!” was exclaimed into the female’s chest. Mor recoiled due to the impact and suddenly, Feyre was hugging the Morrigan, not caring for propriety in front of guests. 

Rhysand’s cousin had been spending more time in Vallahan than in the Night Court, forging alliances and still not succeeding in convincing the Queen to sign the peace treaty. She tried to visit as much as she could and sent many letters through Azriel’s spies concerning the foreign kingdom. He worried for her, hearing just how proud the people in Vallahan were and the schemes the court was prone to. 

“Feyre, please, don’t crush me before I can make it through the doorway.”

“I’m so glad you could make it for the dinner,” she murmurs into her chest before pulling away and taking in the red gown Mor had put on. It earned a hum of approval from her High Lady and Mor wiggled her eyebrows, whispering something into Feyre’s ear and making her laugh. 

Azriel stepped away, moving further inside the room though the wall was his preferred place. Feyre had handed off Nyx to Elain, who was rocking the baby on her hip while conversing with the Valkyries. Gwyn was wearing her usual priestess robes and cooed at the small Illyrian. The middle Archeron sister was smiling unabashedly, sending something warm trickling down Azriel’s chest. 

“Brother,” Rhysand greeted, breaking him out of the reverie and lifting a bottle to fill his glass. With a cocked brow, Rhysand poured the liquor and walked away from Azriel without another word, leaving the shadowsinger hanging in the air.

Rhysand stopped in front of his mate, kissing her temple without sparing Azriel another second of his attention after filling his glass. It left an unsure feeling behind but he brushed it off, convincing himself to have misread the slippage of his brother’s mask. 

— ✾ —

It was only after an hour filled with Mor’s complaining about being hungry and Cassian’s grunts of approval that Varian and Amren arrived. Azriel knew the moment Rhysand’s second had walked through the front door of the River House and his shadows notified him that Amren’s lipstick was smudged, and Varian was rubbing a handkerchief along his face.

It made Azriel swear up the Cauldron as he began rethinking his decision to come to this particular family dinner. It wasn’t often that he chose to, rather opting for eating by his lonesome in the House of Wind. The smell of people’s scents mixed in the aftermath of sex was something akin to strangulation and Azriel liked to enjoy his meals without the sensation.

Rhysand turned away from Amren and Varian, clasping his hands together and announcing, “It’s time we feast!”

Cassian whooped alongside of Mor, and they were the first ones on Rhysand’s heels. At the left-hand side of the family room were double doors, too, decorated with garlands and ribbons. Rhysand pushed down on each handle, leading the grand entrance to a refurbished dining room. 

Azriel’s shadows skittered around him as they watched everyone enter. In hushed voices, they began counting those walking through the threshold and Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

As much as everyone assumed he had complete control over his little shadows, they were sentient creatures fascinated by the simplest things. It wasn’t a coincidence that shadowsingers were oftentimes spies, because while the shadows liked talking, they adored observing and reporting everything to their master whose job was to pick out the important information. 

And so, Azriel had to ignore his shadows gushing about a new table that could now fit not ten people but twelve! Once they were sure their master knew of the fact his shadows returned to counting. 

There’s four, five, six. Seven. Eight, nine, ten and eleven, and twelve. 

Amren had taken the head of the table, leading Varian to sit next to her with their intertwined hands.

Mor chose to be the mediator between Lucien and Elain and ignored all the sideways glances the emissary sent her way as she laid a hand on the back of the chair. The little smile she sent Elain did not escape Azriel either. While everyone had chosen their seats, Azriel entered last, closing the door behind him with his back to the group. 

There’s the thirteenth. Such a lucky number. 

In all his years spent in Velaris, Azriel failed to remember a time when a dining room was this full. The new table added two extra seats and dwarfed the room in comparison to how it used to be. Everyone made themselves comfortable, shucking off jackets and laying them across the backs of their chairs. 

Azriel hadn’t had the chance to pick where he wanted to sit and as he turned to the room, he had come to realize with an odd mix of relief and disdain that his seat was between Nesta and Varian. Pick of the litter, then. 

The seats have been specially altered to accommodate winged individuals and while Azriel settled into his chair, he was at least grateful that his closest companions lacked any membranous monstrosities protruding from their backs. Were he sat next to inebriated Cassian, he’d have to focus his attention there and leave his shadows with filling up the blanks. 

As food started appearing one plate after another, Azriel took in where the rest of the people were sat. He was facing Feyre and Rhysand, Nyx placed into a tiny chair between theirs. Cassian was occupying the other head of the table and already spoke to Elain in hushed tones to the best of his abilities. To the General’s other side was Gwyn, then Emerie and Nesta. One of his newer shadows notified him that Emerie couldn’t take her eyes from Rhysand’s cousin and that she blushed when their eyes met. 

A table of this size offered a lot of variety and where there was space between statement pieces, candelabras and flowers, there was food or drink. Once the sound of cutlery filled the room, the conversation fell off and comments about the food were exchanged. The feast, as Rhysand called it, was truly one for the books. 

Oh, the beef. It’s delicious. 

Could you hand me more of the potatoes, Lucien? 

Is there any more wine on your end of the table?

We should do this more often. 

The exchanges appeared awkward to Azriel and the small talk he had to endure from Varian made him want to retreat further into his shadows. All throughout the main course he felt Rhysand’s eyes on him but when he went to meet his High Lord’s stare, he had already turned away. 

As the food dwindled and the fae lights dimmed down to a comfortable glow, many different conversations were going on. Feyre talked to Lucien while letting Rhysand feed their son and the Valkyries were explaining their training to Mor, who had been unaware of all the progress the priestesses had made. 

Gwyn was in the middle of explaining the new technique that she discovered while helping Merill with her research when she offhandedly mentioned a thing that elicited a groan from Nesta and Emerie.

Cassian, dragged out from his conversation with Elain, drew back. “What? What happened?” he questioned, brows drawn together in confusion. 

“It’s the long-lost kingdom again,” explained Nesta and Cassian ah’d with some recognition, nodding along.

Gwyn blushed a deep crimson. "I promised Nesta not to talk about it," she sent a glare to the mentioned female over Emerie's head. "So I won't."

Nesta rolled her eyes but it couldn't be taken seriously because as she looked down, one corner of her mouth was lifted up.

"To talk about what?" asked Feyre from the other end of the table, cutting her conversation with Lucien short. The male was already tilting his body towards the priestess, eyes straying to his mate before focusing wholeheartedly back on Gwyn. 

Gwyn met Feyre's kind gaze. "I've finally started my own research and these three hear too much about it."

Something struck Azriel's chest on the left-hand side as he realized he was not included in the explanation. His shadows stilled and watched Gwyn. 

"Oh?" mused Feyre back. She settled her chin on the heel of her palm, smiling gently at the priestess. “What is it about?"

Almost taken aback by the attention she was getting from her High Lady, it had taken her a moment to get the words out. "It's this extinct nation– or at least many think it's extinct. They just about fell off the face of this world five hundred years ago."

There were more blank faces around the table as even Amren drew her unsettling gaze to Gwyn. Now, everyone was listening to her and even Elain let her gentle and encouraging eyes rest on her small form.

What a kindness she thinks she’s offering, one shadow hissed and coiled around his ear. 

Gwyn’s hand reached up to play with a strand of coppery hair, continuing, "Truly, there are barely any records on its fall, some books on its existence and even less on their emergence."

"You do love a challenge, Gwyn," muttered Nesta, earning a gleaming smile from Gwyn. 

"That I do," she responded, almost sheepish. "The last scriptures go back to a few decades before the War. It's unheard of that a kingdom from the continent is not mentioned in writing."

Mor shuffled in her seat, holding the glass of wine in front of her with both hands and offering an inquisitive look to Gwyn. "Is it Severín, by any chance?" 

"Yes," she breathed out, the realization that many of them are as old as five hundred dawning over her. "You fought in the War, didn't you?" she asked, this time with more gentleness. She looked to Cassian who was pushing his food around and nodding lightly, the tone of the conversation still easygoing, edging on clinical.

"We all did," stated Mor, her mood growing more serious with each sip she took. "I went there once but decades after it had fallen to aid an old friend."

"You were there for the liberation of Black Land?" she inquired, earning a nod and a small smile from Mor. She had connected the dots fast enough that it pleased her. 

"I offered my help to Drakon and Myriam, yes. I would not be wrong to suggest you know who they were." 

The use of past tense didn’t escape Azriel.

"Could I—" she started but faltered before she got too ahead of herself. But before she could find better words or consider a better timing, Mor lifted a gentle hand. 

"You can ask any questions you want. I'll come to the library tomorrow for a few hours and I'll make sure to find you."

For a moment, Gwyn was left speechless before she stammered out a quick, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she uttered, before looking around the table. "We wouldn't want to bore these people with the recounting of ancient history."

"I, for one," said Feyre pointedly while fixing Nyx's clothes, "would love to hear more about this fallen kingdom. I don't get to read as much anymore."

Nesta bit back a grin, turning to her sister with a goodhearted smile. "Anymore? You were illiterate a few years ago."

A few reluctant giggles escaped the present and even Azriel had to hide his smile. Feyre gasped, resting her palms on the table and looking in feigned disbelief at her oldest sister. Rhysand looked to his wife, a smile splitting his face in half. "And whose fault is that?"

This broke the hesitance, light laughter echoing around the room and even Amren cracked a smirk.

Feyre hummed, letting her chin rest against her palm again. "But about the Black Land... Is it not the same as what Mor said? Severing, or something?"

"Severín, my lady," corrected gently Gwyn, letting Feyre copy the hard r's in her own time. She gave her an encouraging smile once she got it right. "But they're not the same, though they existed in the same place within Rask."

“I think I've seen it on one of the older maps, near where the Wall would be," wondered aloud Feyre and her mate gave her a nod, confirming her guess. "Is it close to that mountain range with a river? The northern one."

"Yes, the Vistula River,” she nodded at Feyre. “There’s a legend involving the Severínians and the river delta. Supposedly, before they ever settled in Rask’s territory, the region was surrounded by a desert and there was no vegetation unless you were close to the seashore. And even then it was only rocky ridges, not fit for cultivating crops.”

“But something changed,” muttered Feyre playfully, enchanted by the story Gwyn was gladly unraveling for her. 

“Something did change. ‘When the Severínians finally decided to settle, rivers sprang from the mountains and created a cradle for a new kingdom to rise from.’ It’s a quote from a diary of a Raskan traveler. The name ‘Vistula’ actually means to flow slowly and its roots are in the Severínian language.”

Feyre smiled at the little tidbit of information. “Do we know what urged them to settle there? If there was no life there, it must have been a hard decision to make.”

“I asked myself the same thing! We do know that they were a nomadic people, that their archetypal features were feathered wings. Individuals with pale hair were denoted to have powers. That actually created a new branching in the classification of magic. I saw some scholars give them the title of ‘purifiers.’”

Mor nodded along with the explanation as if everything that came out of Gwyn’s mouth was just confirmation of something she had already known.

“They had a so-called affinity for ‘life’ and it was sought after by many rulers at that time. They could grow crops within a few hours which would otherwise take months under normal circumstances. They made for very good healers and menders and no one had ever described them as violent. Actually, they were quite a docile people. One of their saying was something along the lines of ‘to live is to be gifted and to serve is to protect.’”

“Do you think they had never settled before because someone would have come to take their freedom away—simply because of what they possessed?” asked Feyre again with a thoughtful expression. 

“Perhaps,” agreed Gwyn calmly and judging by her change of expression, the silence around the table came to her with a force of a thousand bricks. Alarmed, she looked around at the present and realized that everyone, including Amren, was fully focused on what she was saying. Shadows notified Azriel that Varian on his right had sent Gwyn a smile before saying that he had never known anything about this kingdom. 

“Rask had never taken lightly to someone encroaching on their territory.  They might be the reason why this kingdom has been ‘wiped’ from the collective memory,” offered Rhysand. 

Mor scoffed, agreeing with her cousin. “Especially if they offered refuge to humans who could have been a workforce in their salt mines instead.”

“Refuge?” Feyre turned her attention to Mor, brows furrowed. “What do you mean by refuge?”

The blonde female looked to her High Lady, skillfully avoiding Lucien’s whirring gold eye. “Before their fall and before Rask had turned it into Black Land, they allowed humans to live side by side with them and even earn their keep. It was unheard of at that time since most of the Courts even in Prythian considered humans slaves.”

“The talks of human rights were nothing but murmurs within chosen circles,” concluded Rhysand, swirling the wine in his cup. “Shame, Severín could have made for good allies during the War.”

“They would not have fought,” spoke up Amren all of a sudden, surprising even Rhysand into stumped silence. 

He frowned, facing his second and declared, “You are right. They wouldn’t have but they were the only example of Fae and mortals living in peace together. That could have made a difference.”

“The fools were so in love with peace, they wouldn’t have sided with foreigners even if it cost them their lives. Which it did anyway.”

Azriel thought to himself that it was perhaps the biggest reaction Amren had given in the past year and since the day she crawled out of the Cauldron. It wasn’t often that this ancient female chose to speak her mind but something had grated against her at the mention of this long-lost kingdom. 

“Rask is a nation of conquerors,” said Amren, her hand playing with a ruby necklace adorning her collarbone. It twinkled in the candlelight of the table and the danger of her eyes. “They wouldn’t have given in where they didn’t have to.”

Mor sucked on the inside of her cheek before responding, “So they chose to sack a peaceful people?”

“Their feud wasn’t just some baseless thing, dusted over by centuries of anger. Those Severínians,” she had spat out the name like spoiled food, “had settled in Raskan territory, knowing damn well where they were.”

“They were the ones who created life there, not Rask,” argued Mor.

Amren’s ageless gaze moved sideways. “So the legend goes.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

She sat up, leaning on her elbows and zeroing in on Mor with a poise of a predator. “What I mean, Morrigan, is that not everything written in those books and scriptures is fact. It takes one desperate generation to rewrite what has truly happened.”

“Are you insinuating that those people deserved getting slaughtered?”

Amren bared her teeth. “All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t let someone with that magic anywhere near me. It’s not of this world and trust my word, I would know.”

Azriel’s shadows had stilled with the exchange, murmurs of questions and curiosity filling his ears. He just watched on as Mor and Amren exchanged heated glances, bared their teeth. Between them, Feyre massaged the space between her brows and when Rhysand laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, she had shook it off. 

“Please,” said Feyre, gaze still downturned. “Don’t argue. Not tonight and not over something meaningless.” 

Within the plead was hiding something more. It wasn’t often that Feyre could just sit down and dine with all of her close friends. She had a child to take care of, she taught children in the city how to paint and see the beauty of the world through the medium of the brush and when she came home, she was still a mother and a High Lady with obligations. The last thing she wished for was an argument—on her birthday, nonetheless.

On her other side, even Lucien had sent worrying glances her way. 

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” murmured Mor, though Amren remained silent. Azriel supposed that it was the biggest apology they would get from her, considering she had never once explained herself to anyone. All she deigned herself to do was meet Feyre’s eyes and nod as if she was heeding a command from her High Lady.

The Inner Circles and the rest had grown quiet, their eyes as if stuck to their plates. Only Azriel was still looking up and around, noticing how awkward it had gotten and wishing it was socially acceptable to winnow from this room. 

From the other end of the table, Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Varian, do you think I could visit this summer? I swear not to shatter another building.”

The laugh from Varian was a little choked and aware of the diversion Cassian had tried to make. “I don’t know if my cousin has lifted your ban.”

“Not even after everything?”

“I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “But Cresseida and I will put in good word for you.”

With a wink from Varian, Cassian laughed, exclaiming, “Atta boy!”

Elain, from Cassian’s side, leaned in and asked with a small voice meant for him only, “How did you get banned from the Summer Court?”

Those who already knew laughed along as Cassian dived into a dramatized retelling of that fateful day in Adriata. 

— ✾ —

The River House had finally fallen quiet after the eventful Winter Solstice dinner and the following party. The faelights had been dimmed to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadows of the longest night of the year. 

Amren, Mor and Varian had finally gone to bed but Azriel found himself still lingering downstairs. 

He knew he should get some sleep. He would need it come dawn for the snowball battle at the cabin. After everyone had retired back to the family room, Cassian had mentioned no less than six times that he had a secret plan regarding his so-called impending victory. Azriel had let his brother boast, especially since he had been planning his own win for a year now.

Cassian wouldn’t know what was coming for him. And Azriel planned on capitalizing on the fact that Nesta likely wouldn’t let Cassian sleep much tonight. 

Azriel snickered to himself and the ever-restless shadows around him stirred, gazing out to the family room. 

Sleep, they had whispered in his ear and a sense of deep-set exhaustion crawled over his bones again. 

I wish I could, he comforted them silently. But sleep rarely found him these days. 

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated as it pulled taut over his muscles. And so he chose to sleep only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

Azriel surveyed the empty room from the hallway, the presents under the tree and the ribbons littering the furniture. There were two dirty glasses on the mantel of the fireplace, smeared lipstick on one and nothing on the other. 

Nesta and Cassian hadn’t reappeared in the house, though that came as no surprise. They were among the first ones to leave and Azriel’s shadows had notified him of his brother carrying Nesta to the House of Wind mere minutes after Rhysand had winnowed her friends out. 

He was elated for him and yet Azriel was never able to stop it—the green envy in his chest of Cassian, of Rhys. Cauldron, even of Amren. He knew he would be swallowed by that never-ending despair if he went to his bedroom, and so he chose to remain down here by the dying light in the fireplace. 

The room lacked the bustle and laughter it had enshrined for the last couple of hours. Now the silence grew heavy and the stillness of his bedroom began crawling between the walls and into the family room. He clutched his fingers around the jacket on his forearm, letting it dissolve into shadows.

Azriel removed himself from the doorway, entering the hall and walking soundlessly to the foyer. 

Soft steps padded from the stair archway and there she was.

The faelights gilded across Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. Again, the image from the Day Court had appeared before his eyes and as she halted, her breath caught in her throat.

“I…” He watched her swallow. She clutched her fingers around a small box. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to put it there earlier.”

A lie. At least the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She had waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she would leave her gift among his other, unopened presents. Subtle and unnoticed, she wanted him to find it in the morning and after the snowball battle. Perhaps she had hoped he would pocket the little box, open it in the privacy of his room and away from the prying eyes of his family.

Elain closed the distance and her breathing quickened as she paused a scant foot away. “No trouble in giving it to you now, I guess. Here.” She extended the wrapped gift, her hand trembling. 

Azriel fought hard not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn’t bought her mate a present, he recalled. When his shadows went over the gifts, they had divulged this precious detail to him. He hadn’t gotten one this year nor last but she went through the trouble of buying something for him. She had given Azriel a headache powder a year ago which he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use but just to look at. Something he had done every night he had slept there—or rather attempted to sleep there. 

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days. -Elain, and then opened the lid. 

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..." 

He hadn’t had the heart to tell he was going to move from the House soon and so unable to suppress his impulse, he just chuckled. “You wouldn’t want me to open this in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.”

As he closed the box and stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers, he returned her smile. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present…” 

He had left the rest unspoken as he reached into his shadows. Her mate was here, sleeping only a level above them and he had been present all throughout the evening, not once leaving the room before Elain had retired for the night. The scent of their mating bond had filled Azriel’s lungs and even if he had positioned himself to a far corner, it would still reach his nostrils, tickling something wicked that called for unfairness. 

Though tonight, here in the dark and silence, there was only the two of them and he supposed it was fair at last to give her this one thing. Despite wanting to give much more.

He pulled the velvet box out, letting his shadows open it for her. Once revealed, they scattered to the back of his neck in a moment’s time. 

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin and his shadow retreated even further, almost completely disappearing. They and their murmurs had always been prone to vanish when she was around and so did his voice of reason. 

The golden chain was unremarkable and the amulet tiny enough to be dismissed as an everyday charm. Weeks ago, he had escaped the House of Wind and found himself walking through the Palace of Thread and Jewel. A vendor had waved him over from the crowd, choosing Azriel to present his newest invention. When he told him to hold it up to the sun, Azriel was rendered speechless once the true depth of colors became visible and it reminded him of her. It was a thing of secret, lovely beauty, just like the female before him. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Azriel watched her face tentatively as she lifted the necklace from the box. The fae lights shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm aglow with hues of red, pink, white and green. 

Azriel let his shadow swallow the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

The everlasting murmurs in his head slowed to a still. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her neck. 

He knew it was wrong but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. He let his scarred fingers touch her unmarred skin, letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took his sweet time fastening the clasp.

Azriel's hand lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch, until his palm lay flat against her neck. 

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. 

Wrong—it was so wrong. The murmurs returned with fervor but he didn’t care. 

He needed to know what the skin of her neck felt like. What those lips tasted like, her breasts, her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue—

The fabric of Azriel’s pants began straining against his will. It ached so fiercely he could only pray she didn’t peer down. Pray she didn’t understand the shift in his scent. 

He would only allow himself these thoughts in the dead of night, when everyone had fallen asleep and when no one, not even his shadows, could bear witness to his selfishness. 

Elain bit her lower lip and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint not to free it with his own. 

“I should go,” Elain said but made no move to leave. She was still peering up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping long strokes along the side of her neck. The gentle brush sent a shiver down Elain’s spine and as her arousal drifted up to him, his eyes nearly fell shut. If he could, he would drop to his knees in front of her, asking her to let him worship her body. But Azriel settled for stroking her neck. For now. 

She shuddered, drifting closer. So close, one deep breath would brush up her chest again his upper stomach. She was looking up at him, face so open and unafraid as if he could deliver her to the lands of milk and honey. Azriel wouldn’t put it past himself to try. 

Still, her naivety hadn’t escaped those incessant murmurs of his own. They scratched their talons against his reserve, reminding him that the hand brushing her neck had done unspeakable things. Who was he to touch her like this?

It should be a sacrilege for his rough, scarred fingers to rest on her skin, to taint her with his presence. 

He could have this, right?

Azriel wouldn’t admit it to anyone ever but he was a selfish bastard and he would allow himself to have this one moment of reverie. If only to drive away his curiosity. But afterward, he promised himself to keep a hold on himself, he would go back to restraint. This single occasion would be it for him. Something to keep, something to remember during those long, dark and lonesome hours.

“Yes," Elain breathed like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. 

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. 

Offer and permission. He nearly sighed in relief as he lowered his head toward hers. 

Azriel.

Rhysand’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet and awaiting mouth.

Azriel.

The unrelenting command was an undercurrent to his name and Azriel looked up. Atop the staircase, Rhysand stood with a clenched jaw and a glower pointed at him and only him. 

My office. Now.

Rhysand vanished into thin air and Azriel was left standing there, the prickle of being watched and observed still skipping along his skin. Elain who stood before him was still awaiting his lips on hers. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back so their breaths would mix no longer. 

He forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.”

Something had his throat in a vice, whether it was a need or the shame at being called on like a dog, he didn’t know. He was only aware of the strained sentence coming out and Elain opening her eyes. They widened, filling with hurt and confusion before she whispered a single, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t– Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize, it’s I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness in her face that he was the reason for. “Goodnight.”

Azriel winnowed himself into shadows before he could hear what she had to say if anything. He appeared only a heartbeat later in front of Rhysand’s study. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain was already retreating upstairs. Shame washed over him and he ran a hand over his face. 

He pushed the dark, heavy door to reveal Rhysand at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. 

He asked softly and only once, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel let the door shut behind him and didn’t even think of sitting down in the chair facing the monstrous desk littered with papers and memos. Azriel thinned his mouth at the question. He was always sparse with words and wasn’t going to stop the habit now. 

His brother looked at him in exasperation, as if not believing what he was seeing. Upon closer inspection, the lines on Rhysand’s face were longer and shadows lingered in the space below his eyes. But even despite the tired appearance, his power rolled around him like a dark cloud in an ominous reminder. 

“I asked you something, Azriel.”

Azriel joined his hands behind his back, saying, “What do you want me to say?”

Rhysand’s frown should have been an answer enough. “I want you to explain why I saw you about to kiss Elain in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger his way. “Including her mate.”

Azriel scoffed. Of course, he would mention Lucien. It wasn’t often that Azriel’s hackles rose and he allowed them to. But when he met his brother’s eyes with rage, he knew Rhysand could match him a thousand times over. His glare had crossed with its violet twin as the air grew heavier and heavier. The siphon on his chest that he kept glamoured vibrated in answer to the challenge.

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

“Don’t talk to me about Mor,” he bit out.

“I’m going to talk to you about whatever I damn wish. Especially if you go about your delusions like that.”

Azriel chose to ignore that last bit if only to keep some of his sanity. This male before him had been his friend for over five centuries. They have bled, cried and laughed beside each other. He would never lie to him and never spare his feelings. And Rhysand was right, after all. The little voice in the back of his mind had always been right too and the way Rhysand was scowling at him was all the confirmation he needed.

He glared at his shadowsinger. “If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend the bond as he sees fit. Including the Blood Duel.”

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” 

The duel had historically been enacted in rare cases and ended only when the other person was dead. There was no yielding, no three taps and out. There were only two fighters and no titles could help once the Blood Duel had been invoked. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he had found Mor all those years ago. He had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris, prepared to kill them or die with them. But it was Mor’s right to claim their heads that had stopped him and he would never do her the dishonor of taking that choice away. 

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you,” reminded him Rhysand. 

“I would win,” he stated, pure conviction lacing every word. 

“I know.” It was a bitter sense of acceptance that dawned on Rhysand’s face. “Your doing so would rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court but also the Spring Court. Jurian and Vassa, too.” Rhys looked up from where his hands were joined in front of his face. “You will leave Elain alone.”

Azriel neared one step closer to Rhysand’s desk. “You can’t order me to do that.”

The High Lord took in that step and thinned his lips. “I can and I will. If not to protect you three from a world of hurt, then to protect this Court. I watched you tonight and half the evening you had your eyes glued to Elain and the other half, you were lost in your thoughts. And if I caught onto it, then Lucien did too. You better mind yourself, brother. You’re losing focus.”

Azriel snarled softly against his best judgment. 

“Snarl all you want.” Rhysand leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

Rhysand had rarely considered punishment, let alone threatened it. It stunned Azriel enough to knock him out of his rage and into incredulity. His brother avoided his gaze, grabbing a pen and focusing on the papers on his desk. Even as he looked down, his eyes weren’t scanning the words written there. His hand with the wedding ring shook slightly when he ran it through his hair.

“Get out, Az,” he said, more gently under his breath but Azriel heard it all right. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With no further words from Rhysand or himself, Azriel walked out of the study, pushing himself to keep a calm pace, though he wanted to storm out. He tucked in his wings, walked down the stairs and past the spot where his and Elain’s mouth had almost met. His eyes were focused forward, shadows swirling around him and sensing the distress of their master. Once he pushed through the front door and into the frigid air, he let it consume him. 

The white clouds escaping his mouth were the only sign he was alive because as he passed the gate, he stood still. Too still. The River House towered behind him and the light in Rhysand’s study went out. 

How his brothers used to fear being chained down by the ankles. They had joked with Azriel, saying he would be the first to settle and that their fleeing nature would never allow them to stay still for one female. 

But they had grown, changed over time while Azriel stayed behind, hoping that the relationship they shared would remain unchanged. 

As Azriel kept standing in the cold, he let it permeate past his suit. Down through his skin and to the marrow of his bones. There was no jacket to ward off the chill—all by his choice. There was no one to run to and Azriel wondered if that was his choice too.

Taglist:

this is being crossposted to ao3 so make sure to show some love there too, if you feel so inclined!

omg hi to whomever is reading this work ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

thank you for taking the time out of your day to sit down with this, be it on your commute, after a long day at school or whatever other downtime you have!! i am very honored and i hope i can entertain.

i'm very pumped to get this out and into the world. this oc has been stuck in my head for like over a year, i swear. maybe even perhaps when the bonus chapter of acosf with azriel first dropped ! the ideas of the plot and scenes just kept coming to me in random moments throughout these last 12 or so months. it felt like i was being shaken by my shoulder and someone was screaming into my face to, "write this one, goddammit!!!!!"

so here i am, appeasing some azriel-obsessed part of me.

since his character is very… open to interpretation due to the utter lack of anything (looking at you, SJM), i'm going to take certain liberties with his personality and motivations. so this might be slightly OOC, but i'll make sure that this is tagged on my ao3.

enjoy, my lovelies. i'll be grateful for any comments, tips or questions. if you think something could have been done differently, don't ever be afraid to comment on it. i am very open to criticism as bettering my craft is one of my biggest goals with this. my inbox is open (i think).

[chairofchaos]

A Comedy of Eris

Pairing: Eris x Azriel; also original female character/original female character Summary: Eris Vanserra is fed up with getting killed. It's about time somebody told these fanfiction authors what's up, right? A short skit, in which Eris encounters a murderer. A fictional murderer, that is. One that's killed him, and his mate, over and over and over and over... (ad infinitum). For Day 6 of @erisweekofficial : AU! Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: some discussion of violence, a little dark humor, mostly comedy

Read it on Ao3 HERE! Sample Below <3

A major shoutout must be made to @mistandmemories, whose Rhysand Witherspoon post is living rent free in my mind. Thank you. To everyone who voted on character names: thank you for saving me decisions.

(Please forgive me- the reason it's only on Ao3 is that formatting a script on tumblr just does not work, so formatting in the sample below does not match Ao3.)

KATHERINE: Okay, so what stories are you seeing?

ERIS: (seething) Does it matter? You keep killing me.

KATHERINE’s jaw drops, and she slams it shut. She appears to hold in a laugh, glancing to the side.

KATHERINE: Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were seeing them.

ERIS: Does it matter?

KATHERINE: Uh. I guess to you it wouldn’t, no.

ERIS: There is also the amount of times you’ve killed my ‘mate’. (sneers) And do you even know who my mate is? You seem to relish in pairing me with the most abysmal members of my enemies’ courts. Azris? As if I would ever be mated to the Shadowsinger.

KATHERINE: (coughs amusedly) About that. It’s called a rarepair, okay? I don’t actually think it’s going to happen. But have you considered it? Because I think it might actually help you two to get locked in a room with one be-

ERIS begins to pace in front of the stairs which lead up to where KATHERINE sits on the porch. 

ERIS: (growls) Finish that sentence and I will impale you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @chunkypossum (welcome to the Azris taglist- this is one hell of an introduction, so let me know if you want me to be more specific!) @dusk-muse @ninthcircleofprythian @unanswered-stars @c-starstuff-man0 @lilah-asteria

Give me a shout if you want on/off the taglist(s)!

[swinglifeaway19]

Roleplay Partner Search

Hi there! 

My friends call me Sammy. I've been roleplaying for roughly fifteen years, started on Quizilla ( rip ) and have been writing ever since. I work a full time job, Monday - Friday that takes up the most of my time during the week. Weekends are spent with my boyfriend and friends.Most of my roleplay responses will be weekday evenings & Sunday nights. I'm available most of the time to chitchat or headcanon if that's your jam. I love making friends with my writing partners. Communication is key. 

18+ Please. Am adult. Children stay away. 

Probably over Discord? Unless you have a better suggestion. PM me and we can discuss. 

Doubling friendly and doubling encouraged.   I always play a female oc and a character of your choosing. If you want canon ships for your side, cool. I dont mind. You have an oc that you want to pair with a canon character? Even better. Tell me everything.  

Length. The longer the reply,  the longer it takes for me to reply. I dont really have a length limit, I can match whatever you throw at me, but I'd rather have a shorter reply full of meaningful sentences that move the roleplay along than a long reply full of fluff, ya know? 

Plot > Smut. I dont mind smut, I just need it to not be the sole focus. 

Its been forever since I've made one of  these so I'm probably forgetting something. If you have questions/comments/concerns, feel free to shoot me a message. 

Below are fandoms I'm currently looking for. Bold is who I would like to play against. Italics are characters I'm comfortable playing ( some fandoms have a crap load of characters, if you dont see someone you want in italics, please just ask if I can play them. More often than not, it's a yes). 

A Court of Thorns and Roses series - Completed( Lucien Vanserra, Eris Vanserra, Azriel) [ Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand , Eris Vanserra, Tarquin, ask for more ]

ACOTAR x Throne of Glass Crossover - I would kill to play the child of Manorian, pairing them off with Elucien child. Plot with me pleeeeeeeeease. 

Stephen King's It - Novel, TV Ministries, Chapter 1 & 2 Completed. highly prefer to rp when they are adults, though we can flashback/headcanon platonic moments from when they were kids. ( Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon )[ Any of the Losers ]

One Piece - Live Action. Through Punk Hazard in Anime ( Roranoa Zoro. Vinsmoke Sanji )[ Any Straw Hat, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, theres a lot of characters so ask ]

Yu Yu Hakusho - Anime Completed. ( Kurama, Hiei, Yusuke )[ Kurama, Hiei, Yusuke, Kuwabara. Ask about anyone else but willing to try ] 

Stranger Things - Caught up. ( Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Steven Harrington ) [Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jim Hopper ]

Hunger Games - Original Trilogy Novels & Movies Completed. Willing to do original plot. ( Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair )[ Mostly anyone save for Snow ]

Teen Wolf ( Theo Raeken, Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski )[ mostly anyone ]

Until Dawn ( Mike Munroe, male oc )[ anyone ]

[nikethestatue]

The new "Valkyries" are something I so immensely dislike because they were women who were lovely on the outside and were blood thirsty inside and were fierce warriors meanwhile

the new ones are gym buddies who do basic training , win using advantages that aren't presented to others and one of them even demean a rite that the originals would love .

Also I get confused when people say that 3 brothers x 3 sisters are corny when gwyn wrote about them "rising again" in the books when in reality the only similarity is the name . It was honestly insulting .

I view the Valkyries as a fantasy stand-in for SJM's own female friendships.

I think that's what she desperately wants. An equal, supportive, encouraging relationship between a bunch of women. So she picked out a whole lot of random lore--her Valkyries are Amazons led by Boudica while also being like code breakers, Mata Haris, survivalists, and American Ninja Warrior contestants.

It's a jumbled mishmash of ideas and personal dreams.

Sometimes, I think SJM needs to pull herself out of her own characters and let them live and develop organically.

My preference would've been Nesta finding a bunch of Illyrian women on her own, slowly befriending them, and then, instead of Cassian and Azriel teaching all of them, the women would've taught each other. They've been observing male trainings for centuries in the camps--you gonna tell me they didn't pick up some moves? It would've been great if it were a symbiotic relationship--the women learn from each other, they also teach Nesta, they start training together. No men. Then, Nesta opens up a school for girls, to teach them to read and write. We learn more about the Illyrian culture, we watch Nesta heal and not just get dick therapy. We also watch her understand, for example, how difficult certain things were for Feyre when they were growing up. We have natural growth, healing and development.

Instead, we got random pilates classes, and everything under the watchful gaze of Rhysand.

Ehhh.

[roleplayfinder]

ACOTAR/ Sarah J Maas Universe Roleplay

Looking for: FxM, MxF, FxF. Doubling. I have been searching the internet for different ACOTAR inspired roleplays. I’m in my mid 30’s and have been roleplaying for almost 20 years. I enjoy world building, multiple characters, political intrigue and romance. I write about 400-800 words a post and I have samples that I can offer. I also only play on Discord because it’s easier to make channels for OOC, Inspirations and Plotting.

I will only double. My male characters are usually better written but I prefer to play female presenting characters. (It is my curse.) I live for minimances. (Side romances.) I write in third person and won’t write in first person. I need a partner who can bounce ideas off of each other. Please, don’t make me do all the work of coming up with a plot. It’s a red flag for me. 

The pairings that I would love to explore include:

Gwyn x Azriel

Elain x Lucien

Mor x Emerie

JurienxVassa

Ones that would be interesting to add onto or do an AU version:

Nesta x Cassian

This is a maybe but Rhysand x Feyre.

Ones that would include an Original Character:

Older Nyx x OC

Eris x OC

OCxOC

I would also be interested in Throne of Glass or Crescent City roleplays or AUs. Or SJM Multi Universe Roleplays.

LorcanxElide

LysandraxAedion

RuhnxLidia

Ideas:

One of the Children of the Blessed goes into the fae lands and after all of their friends have been attacked, they are helped by a fae who takes pity on them and the adventure that comes about from that.

What if Nesta had gone into the fae lands after Feyre? Or, what if Elain had been the one taken by Tamlin. Feyre and Nesta have to team up to save their sister.

Older Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter.

Stories about the countries on the continent, politics from some of those Kingdoms.

If you are interested, message me or like the post. I am always searching. 

[mommyofkittens]

A Court of Fallen Heroes -Chapter 2:  "  God Forbid...  "

 Hello! I updated the story on Archive of Our Own! It is not edited, I was in a hurry, but i will check it out tonight.

Kisses and hugs!

UPDATE: I EDITED THE STORY ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN!

Author’s P.o.V:

           Before the first war, five hundred years ago, when humans grew tired of the faerie’s tyranny upon their kind, there was this plain saying, who gained power through the blood of every slaughtered male and female, regardless of their nature. It was a chanted, vicious poem, spreading malevolent or honourable effects once it was spoken.

          Even though it was brought into this world in the same very moment as the spilling of The Cauldron, The Mother hid it from the world, for it was a calamity to the ones that fitted the category. Then, after years of being preserved in the back of the minds of the population, it surfaced when a group of celestial beings fell into our circle, commanded by a wrathful god who ruled a young world.

          ‘ Like calls to like. ‘

          It was the truth. But a very bitter truth.

          For this, the mortals suffered tremendous atrocities: skinned alive, enslaved and worked until they died of fatigue in the mines of the faeries, spitted on and stripped of any independence. It was even worse if you were a half-faerie, if somehow, you’re mother was taken by a whore and fucked by several sharp-eared bastards.

          The reason may seem futile and… dispassionate. The creatures thought that mankind was made for this, for pain and hardship: pain calls to pain, misery calls to misery. They weren’t nice even to their own comrades: the lesser faeries. The differences disgusted the High-Faes: the rounded ears that remembered them of humans, long limbs, glowing skin, horns and clawed, webbed feet. This was all deemed to be inferior and shameful.

          But all of this injustice was so far away. It didn’t mean that the consequences weren’t present now: the wall itself was evidence that scars remain and some don’t even heal.

          The winged male, roaming the skies at this late hour thought the same. His memories of the dark cell rarely affected him when he was conscious, but the trauma that resurfaced every time he slept was still proof enough that he needed more than climbing out of the abyss.

          The war with Hybern didn’t last very long, but both him and the rest of his family, suffered great loses for a merely illusion of peace.

          Some things where not good before that, to start with, but others grew colder and colder. He thought of the relationship between the three sisters, that was hanging by a thread and then at him and his brothers. The Archeron family was scattered anyway, but after their absent father died during the war and the other remaining sisters being transformed in faeries, the hole grew bigger, pathless.

          Somehow, it seemed like destiny made them meet. One sister for each brother. The Mother was so sure that the pairs were able to pull each other from bad memories and heal their hearts together. But it was not that simple: Nesta wished to see no one around her and Elain was so closed inside her shell-shaped mind, that rarely someone could reach inside of it. He wished that someone to be him, but The Cauldron made a mistake and gave the middle sister a mate that didn’t fit her.

          Rhysand was the only one that was content with his wife, but he got his own plate of agony for fifty years before he reached this point of alleviation.

          Azriel’s gut tightened at the thought of what his High Lord had to endure for the sake of Velaris. 

          Recently, the two of them had enough of Nesta’s rebellious behaviour. Only yesterday, at the breakfast table, they got the bill from Rita’s restaurant and some gambling magazine. The Shadowsinger didn’t interfere with their decision, it was not his resolution to take. He had other things on his head to worry, so much that they kept him up at night.

          It wasn’t about the money, because the inner circle got plenty of them in the treasury. It was about her unhealthy way of coping.

          Feyre took the drastic decision to end her sister’s suffering by sending her into the one of the shittiest places on earth: Windhaven Camp. Azriel brushed the sensation that it wasn’t the place to help Nesta, blaming it on his distate for the illyrians and their backward mentality.

          He didn’t deny the fact that the oldest sister needed and impulse to step out of the hole she was falling. He understood the urge to drink and fuck her way out of trauma and forget about bad memories and powers she couldn’t control.

          Azriel did the same, after all.

          But her behaviour hurted more than just Feyre, it scared Elain too, pushed her out of everyone’s reach and he couldn’t bear this.

          His jaw tightened at the picture of her delicate frame, coming back to the town house after she went to visit Nesta. Her shoulders were brought inward and she kept her elegant features hidden. He didn’t need his shadows to read her posture. The tears stains from her dress where proof enough that things didn’t end well between them. Elain didn’t spoke to anyone that night, or the day after and Azriel never had the courage to go and say a word to soothe her heart.

          He found himself on the hall of her dorm once, hiding in the dark, waiting like a dog for her glistening appearance. Azriel could imagine Elain, only in her pink nightgown he knew she was wearing. It was her favourite. He could trace the fragile silhouete of her body with the fingers of his mind through the thin silky material. It covered nothing. It was only a shield.

          Never to touch. Always out of reach.

          The Shadowsinger took a deep breath and stretched his wings again, feeling the warmth of summer caressing his membranous wings. He felt his pants grew tighter. He didn’t want a damn boner in the open sky. He was not his brother, he could hold in his temper, his needs, even if they grew bigger each day. Pleasure hall wasn’t enough and he felt dirty screwing an unknown woman and picturing Elain under him, how she’ll sound while he entered her, how her breath would hitch.

          Focus, his shadows seemed to whisper in his ear, curling around his ear lobe.

          I wish I could, Azriel answered, more to himself than to his companions.

          He switched his attention towards the final trees, trying desperately to soothe the ache from his belly. The stench of resin hit his nostrils first, before a pair of big firs came into view. He recognised their lining that marked the entrance of Velaris.

          There was something odd about this night. As he approached the wards protecting the city, Azriel realised that the sky was fuller. The stars were piled on top of each other like they shielded against something, or shielding someone. Not even the spymaster’s favourite’s giant constellation, Orion, wasn’t to be seen, outshined by the prodigious mass of shining bulbs. The moon was coated by opaque grey clouds, leaving the sky open and somehow forsaken, reflecting Azriel’s own unhappiness.

          The night air was unusually heavy and hot, too much even for the beginning of summer. Inhaling it felt like being trapped underwater, violating your nose and giving the male a headache. His black illyrian leathers were tight and made him sweat underneath. Also, he didn’t see any animals running down the forests paths, didn’t hear the rustle of leaves or howling wolves.

          Azriel didn’t take the signs as something bad, but rather a normal way of acting when it came to solstices. More so because the summer one held a meaningful symbolism: the light that helps us find a goal in our journey, setting us to the right path and having a new beginning.

          He lost a low chuckle through his lips. Azriel wasn’t the one to believe such bullshit. In his five hundred years of living, he never saw that guiding light, he reached his goals through torture and patience. The latter was beginning to fade as he grew more impatient, longing for warmth and the feeling of belonging to someone.

          Inside, he kept his emotions under a firm grip, knowing that displaying them was a sign of weakness. And he didn’t have the freedom of being vulnerable anymore.

          Sadly, that made him forget how to show them. Or how they felt.

          When Azriel passed the protection layer, the air changed swiftly from the thick and almost liquid one on the mountains, to one a lot more breathable and flowery.

          ‘ Thank the Mother. ‘, he thought, escaping the honeyed atmosphere from the outside.

          The lights of the mansion were on. The meeting has started. Or already finished. He only hoped that he didn’t arrived late. Not that he was eager to see Nesta’s punishment or sense Elain’s mating bond on her.

          He cringed at that and landed on the balconies threshold, donning his frozen mask.

          " Brother. " Rhysand acknowledged his presence first, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before eyeing Cassian.

          The High Lady nodded in his direction " She needs to come to her damn senses, " then fixated her eyes somewhere in the distance, putting a shield between her and the world around. " otherwise, I don’t know what else I can do to help her. "

          " You’ve done enough. " Rhys delicately assured her, brushing his fingers through Feyre’s light brown curls. " You’ve helped her enough. You and Elain, Amren. Cassian. Everyone tried to give her space and a place here. With us. "

          So it didn’t go smoothly.

          There is nothing to bind them anymore, his shadows whispered, uncovering themselves in the dim light of night.

          " I am sorry I didn’t get here on time. " Azriel spoke, stepping silently and covering the archway with his wings. " I had business to attend to. " His remarked didn’t pass unnoticed by his High Lord.

          ‘ My office. ‘, Rhysand said in his mind.

          ‘ Is not urgent, but it is something you need to hear. ‘

          " We convinced her to come with me to the camps. " Cassian added, putting one ankle over the other knee. 

          " More like forced her. " Rhysand completed.

          Azriel remarked how his brother took time arranging himself today: with lacquered brown boots, ironed shirt and freshly shaved.

          " I knew she wasn’t going to take this easy. " Amren was seated neatly on the couch, toying with her new favourite bracelet that Varian gave her as a present " But something tells me you’ll manage. "

          She gave Cassian a half nod, smiling in her own devilish way. Azriel knew why Rhysand brought her here, so he would preserve any sort of familial bond between him and Feyre’s sister.

          The spymaster senses the tension in the room and scans it rapidly, locating the source of the strange ambiance. It came in big waves from Cassian, who kept his shoulder straight and his muscles contracted.

          " She’s scared, tormented. " Cass draws a breath, visibly irritated with the stubborn older Archeron sister.

          " Let her dig her own grave, boy, then offer her a hand. " Amren stirs the wine in her almost empty glass, licking her red lips.

          " I thought that’s what this past year has been: reaching to her. " his brother closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his features for a second, " But I received only death looks and venomous words. "

          Azriel knew what he was talking about: the gift he threw in the Sidra, last solstice, after the fight they had on the market streets.  After she made it clear she wants nothing to do with them. With him.

          He was the only one out of the Inner Circle who knew what they’ve lost that day: The Veritas. The apple sized bulb, incastrated with truth magic, that required the Spymaster’s infiltration in the Court of Nightmares’s dungeons.

          Azriel knew the reason behind this gesture, to show Nesta the truth, Cassian’s truth. Even though he knew the General’s feeling towards the oldest sister, it was his own secret to tell.

          " Keep reaching out your hand. " Amren stated, piercing Cass with her silver smoked eyes.

          " I’ve gotten young warriors in the line before. " Cassian dared to joke, shifting from his previous pose and coming closer to where the Shadowsinger was standing near de balconie’s archway.

          " Nesta’s not some young buck pushing the boundaries. " his brother contested, kneeling at Feyre’s feet and caging her palms in his own.

          " I can handle her. "

          " She’ll give you a hard time. " their High Lady spoke, shaking out of her sadness, " And she’ll enjoy every second of it. "

          " She’s miserable. " Amren rose, finishing her glass, ready to get back to her house. " Too bad that rule doesn’t exist, or is not exactly as precise as I made it to be. "

          " Then make sure to add it later. " Rhys helped Feyre to the base of the stairs, " We don’t want to be caught frauding the system. It is enough Keir doesn’t have us at his heart and seeks any wrong step to split the Night Court. "

          Elain had walked in halfway through his brother’s testimony. " I left her baggage in the hallway. " she spoke softly, hiding her hands in the purple dress she was wearing, " It is small. I don’t think it will rise any problems of transportations. "

          He inhaled unconsciously, feeling the lilies and daisies smell al over her. She kept a solemn face, never taking her eyes off of Rhysand.

          The spymaster shot a look towards her soft brown eyes, asking himself if she was strong enough to bear her sister’s deadly arrows that were about to come her way. But Elain’s gaze remained steady as she listened to Rhys, not sparing him a glance. So he changed his focus to Cassian, who looked pale and angry.

          " I’ll bring it up to the House of Wind. " Cassian agreed, stepping on the balcony. " How’s Varian accommodating the weather from Velaris? "

          " I show him new things every night. " the little devil throws us a meaningful look. " He loves the view from our windows. "

          Feyre laughs softly and Elain blushes, turning her gaze to the ground.

          A sudden feeling of tiredness settled on Azriel's shoulders and he felt a wave of pain crossing his body.

          The sky, his shadows whispered, the sky.

          He blamed it on his lack of sleeping, but as he turned to watch the night sky, a shooting star passed silently and a ghostly smell of amber made his heart ache.

  The Continent

           " This world is the nurse of all we know, This world is The Mother of all we feel. "

          Mother of all we feel…

          I will bring you to my feet!

          Don’ t falter, Evening Star!...

          Your existence is like mud under my nails.

          Stop it, I pray to the different voices around, watching the scenes fly pass me: an old man, a young king, two ladies helping me get up and blood. So much blood.

          The Three Dead Kings are waiting for their Daughter.

          Their blood is all over your hands, Queen of Ashes.

          Make it stop, I beg again, feeling lost inside the darkness.

          Strike her again!...

          Mother of all we feel…

          I’ll make a crown out of your bones.

          I have been waiting for you…

          A gentle caress touches my forehead and a pair of hazel eyes passes swiftly trough my mind.

          Wake up, I beg you.

          A piercing man’s scream shatters my eardrums and I jolt, barely aware of where my body starts and ends. The ache inside my heart is agonizing and I feel like I faint several times before my mind is fully anchored to my material body.

          I always had the uncertain sensation that my death will be miserable. And I always blamed myself for thinking too much, for feeling too hard and for playing the victim too often. But the truth is: Death was always stalking me – like a lovely sister of Bad Luck that became my friend -, eradicating in her path everything that was dear to me. Grandparents, uncles, dogs, birds and recently, the parental love that I never had, actually.

          I blamed the cancer, because that is what the fate seemed to have prepared for us: hereditary colon cancer. I was afraid that I had it, but my mother was too scared to do some analyses, refusing to hear the truth and preferring to stay blind. So I did the same.

          But that doesn’t mean I escaped. I experienced another kind of illness.

          I am not american, I came from the Balkans, from a part of Europe where fairy tales, curses and legends are at home.

          Not recently, maybe years prior to this day, my mother, an aunt and I visited an old lady. She lived in a village with unpaved streets and we paid her to do a tarot session and read in our coffee cups.

          That was the day I knew some higher divinity had a vendetta against me.

          The lady was ancient, reaching – after the precision of a teenager – a critical level of ninety years. She smelled like rotten eggs and something characteristic for an old woman with no bathroom inside her house and no sewerage. Her house was made out of adobe and lacked a few windows, the plaster had peeled off of the exterior walls, leaving the horse’s shit and wheat straws to be seen.

          The interior wasn’t any better. It stank of sauerkraut, it was very chilly, dull and inhospitable, with a raw wood floor and an iron bed covered by a smeary flattened mattress.

          She invited us to sit around a little table in a slightly tidier room. It seemed like it was made especially for guests who were into pagan games. The wooden furniture was covered by a hand-sewn table cloth, coloured with red, white and blue thread. The chairs had red leather seats, and the few windows were covered with soot and embroidered curtains. The crone kept here an old sewing machine, with pedals and a sharp spindle in witch she impaled three porcelain dolls.

          " Keeps the dark forces away. " She hinted, observing me.

          The old woman had a glassy eye, corrupted by cataracts and the other one held such a bright blue, that made you wonder if she was blind or not. She looked more like a witch than someone’s granny. She missed a good part of her gray hair and only a few tufts remained trapped in a bun at the base of her head, covered by a black handkerchief. The woman wore a mourning gown, a full-length dress, with a brown apron hanging around her navel. A nephew of hers died of a chromosomal disease that made him look like an experiment of God.

          I never believed her. I knew this was a form of punishment, implied by the one who ruled up or down, because she was playing with dark magic.

          The crone opened the books to read my life and looked at me crookedly.

          With a confident, wrinkled hand, the woman put three cards on the table, after she shuffled them and had me cut them three times.

          4 of hearts. 5 of clubs. 3 of spades.

          I don’t recall with what lies she charmed me with, I was horrified by her looks. Some years passed before I opened up a discussion with my mother and she remembered me of the crone’s premonitions.

          It was about an unexpected, long journey on a foreign continent, devoid of good people and love.

          " She called it a place with no pure magic. " My mother added, drinking from her cup of coffee.

          She told me that someone puts me through great obstacles and I will suffer many losses in my path. In the end I was to be successful, but with terrible costs.

          " To save only one hand for the price of the whole body. " My mother raises her brows, and the memories seem to torment her for a second. " Quite strange if you ask me. "

          " She swore, by the tongue of death actually, that the man from the shadows is waiting for you. He is the only one that can save you. "

          Shortly after our meeting with the witch, she died. It seemed she had gone mad. Her kids found her trapped in the space between the stove and the wall. She was frigid.

          Mother of all we fell…

          I claim you, mou nafsah…

          I manage to take a deep breath, feeling my trachea obstructed by mucus and salt. A convulsive cough makes the capillaries in my eyes to stop pumping blood, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar pressure. My mouth opens, gasping for oxygen and a loud moan escapes my crusty lips when a spasmodic pain flourishes in my body.

          The sounds echo around me and I worry that some of my neighbours might hear me. But I couldn’t stop. I try to tense my muscles, but another wave of nausea storms my stomach. I twist and vomit on the ground beneath me.

          " God forbid… " I whisper, feeling the air hitch in my throat.

          The smell of salted water and fresh flowers decrease my nausea, and my vision begins to clear slowly, patches of light dispersing the darkness. I blink a few times, feeling my eyelids glued together.

          Only after a few moments I am able to see the scenery. A vast meadow, fresh and… alive, in a strange way,

          " God forbid… " I hum lowly, touched by the sudden beauty that surrounds me. " Where am I? "

          One of my vertebrae cracks when I raise my head wearily, reminding me of the tangled position I was in.

          The patch of grass was guarded by rocky, ink-black mountains, which shone in the distance like the precious jewels of an imperial crown. It looked like I was inside a dormant volcano.

          The sun shone brightly over me, warming my tangled, frizzy hair and making me cringe at the sensation of dirt and salt tightening the skin of my shoulders. Carefully, I turn around, enthralled by the clear lake stretched out, alluring insects around it. A thin strip of sand noted the difference between the water’s edge and the beginning of the grass.

          I must have fallen in it, that’s why my clothes were drenched and covered with a dusty pellicle of dry salt.

          Dizzy, I look at my filthy, creased thumbs and use my mouth to breath. My nose was stuffy and it hurt terribly, like it broke when I landed.

          A gray stag lowers his head to drink water.

          " Don’t… " I start, feeling my hoarse voice rubbing against my larynx. I clear it and try again: " It’s salted. Don’t. "

          He watches me, and for a second, we both look skeptical at each other. Is he questioning my existence? I watch his high, branched horns and involuntary smile at his long snout and bright, gentle eyes.

          I pull back, not wanting to scare him and squeeze my head between my palms, unable to neglect my growing headache. "I am sorry… "

          I was losing it. My minds, my spirit of observation, my instinct. It couldn’t be true. I fucking fell out of the sky, through nine circles of worlds. Something told me it resembled Dante’s Inferno, but I knew I wasn’t in Hell. At least not so soon. This place was more like Heaven, not burning flames and red demons wanting to get your soul.

          And I felt very much alive.

          I was probably drugged or drunk or the fall on my cat's bowl must have done something to my brain, because I couldn't be here.

          My memory wasn’t a reliable source either. Broken and discontinuous fragments appear in my brain: Icarus caught in the air, Nadia, volunteering for that blood donation, 3:33, the clock’s batteries, the 3rd floor and the man in the black suit. Everything was like a tornado, always moving and changing, without sitting next to each other so that I could make sense out of this.

          The intention to cry makes me stiff and I feel like crying, because I sigh and hiccup and my eyes sting and my throat hurts, but I can't feel the tears on my cheeks. I can feel the drops gathering in the corners of my eyes, but nothing bluries my vision. I only feel a confusing emptiness that gnaws at my intestines.

          The stag pities me and the grass seems to wrap around my ankles, comforting me. For a second, is not cold and earthy, but my cat’s soft fur brushing my skin, welcoming me back home, telling me he missed me so much.

          My dry and rough voice runs through the calm of the place, over and over again and I mourn. My existence, my destiny, my life. I beg for help over and over and try to get up, but I fall to my knees and feel desperate when the only thing that answers me is my voice’s echoes hitting the onyx mountains.

          In an unconscious attempt to wake me up from this nightmare, I strangle myself and even when my nails are dangerously deep in my skin and my blood no longer reaches my head, I can't get out.

          It was real. I had indeed fallen through those circles and landed in a lake. In the lake next to me. I don't know how I got out, but it saved me from drowning. Or maybe something else happened. I didn’t know.

          The stag was gone and the grass had fallen off my ankles. I was left alone, face up, lying on my back and looking at the empty blue sky. So empty that it reminded me of how I felt right now.

          And what are you going to do? I wonder. Are you going to die here without knowing the truth?

          " I do not know. " I whisper, feeling my chapped lips scratching at each other. "  I want to die here. I want to die. "

          Mother of all we feel…

          I have been waiting for you…

          The song in my ears, which danced between my eardrums even before I woke up, makes me get on all fours and crawl, absent from my own body and indifferent to the cuts that pierced my palms and knees. I crawl and wheeze and cuss until I barely breath.

          I don't even know how long I move like that, with my eyes on a clear horizon and my mouth dry. The desperation was my only comrade right now, pushing me further and faster. I had nothing, but desperation and ambition flowing through my blood.

          After an infernal time I wake up face to face with the foot of the mountains chain. The black rock shone as brightly as it did from the lake, like billions of tiny diamonds were encrusted in it. I brush the tips of my fingers against the material.

          A bolt of electric power dashes through my muscles, followed by thousands of whispers in my ears. Goosebumps appear all over my soaking skin and my body is suddenly awake. The cells in my body vibrate, enthusiastic and respond to the mountains, rushing to the tips of my nails, warming my hand. I am aware of the stag coming closer, of the green serpent roaming silent at the bottom of the lake. I see the flowers bloom under my attention and the trees bending in my presence. A sparkle comes to life at the connection and I drew back, perplexed.

          Maybe this place has a large energy field around it, flowing from mountain to mountain and protecting it from any technology. Maybe that was the reason it was not populated.

          The stag by the lake appears, sniffing in the direction of a narrow opening in the rock. I could scarcely slip through it. I look at him puzzled, feeling the madness that settles in my head.

          " What are the chances that you will understand me and know that I want to get out of here? "

          I speak more for myself, and the shock crosses me when he nods and the crown of horns goes towards me.

          " God forbid… " I chant for the third time and I lower my head, sticking my fingers in my eyes. " I think I'll have to get used to it, until it shows me that it's all in my head. "

          It wasn’t just my imagination. I could smell fresh grass and clean water, I could feel my body stiff and my extremities swollen, I was aware of the headache and my ears popping from time to time from the pressure. My feet ached from the gravel and my knees and elbows stung as I crawled on all fours.

          The only thing that made me doubt the surrounding landscape was my memories, probably scattered because of the fall and the long sleep. Sometimes I got so close to a detail in my head I could brush it with my fingertips, only to disappear as if it never existed.

          I dare to reach out, wanting to caress the animal on the fluffy head. I stop a few inches from him, noticing my filthy palms, full of mud, blood and lacerations. I would have tarnished his beauty, just to fulfill my desire to feel contact with a living being.

          "Thank you... " I bow to him, touching my heart with my palm.

          After a few seconds, his eyes widen in warning, blinking at me, wanting me to understand. " I am sorry. I can’t… I… I will be careful. Thank you… "

          I try to slip through the small crack, but the opening is too narrow for me. I remove my hoodie, leaving only my bra and jeans on. Holding the piece of fabric in my hand, I manage to pass through the tunnel. My clothes went two shades darker from the dust on the rough walls and my exposed skin rubbed painfully against the sharp edges of the mountain.

          Finally seeing myself on the other side of the volcano, the desolating image strikes me, causing my anxiety to reach alarming levels.

          The beauty and the peace inside the oasis contrasted sharply with the barren earth and gray sky. Life seemed to disappear, being replaced only by a vain hope of survival.

          Left and right, miles of yellow-grass meadow laid deserted, and here and there were a few peaks of brown mountains filled with smoke from the houses that lived on the ridge.

          I turn to the volcano from which I just came out, just to be petrified. There was nothing behind me. No sign of it, no rough wall of bright onyx, no sign of a stag or fresh grass. The sky was just as cloudy and the pasture just as barren.

          Even the feeling of calmness ran out of my system.

          " Well, maybe not everything is real... Or beautiful… "

          I wave my hands in the air where I knew I came from, but I don't feel anything. I lay on my knees, desperately looking for proof that everything was true. When I feel like I'm losing hope, I catch a glimpse of the black mountain and the patch of grass leading to the lake. 

          It seemed like the air was cut by a knife and the opening lead to another dimension. 

          " How is that possible?  "

           I look around and notice the dogwood tree, the same height as me and with a few budding flowers. It marks the entrance to the oasis.

          Unsure of what I was going to do next, I set off. If I were to stay here, I would never know what happened to me, how I got here, or where I am. I had no chance of returning.

          Sadness grips me and I sigh unconsciously, wandering the barren pasture, heading for what I thought was the East.

          Dark thoughts surround me and I can barely find the strength to keep going. The desolating atmosphere wasn’t helping me at all with my internal grief.

          My parents wouldn’t know where I am. They’ll probably imagine that I had committed suicide out of love, as all young people do today. The feeling of my watch on my left hand was a constant memory of the person that I loved back home. What will she do?

          God, how cruel everything was. I couldn't even remember her name. The terror of forgetting her brown eyes or round face embraces me and I start to cry. I could finally feel the tears streaming down the scratches on my cheeks.

          My Icarus. My sweet Icarus. He was going to be left alone. Who will feed him? Who will love him? My little savior…

          I cover my face and stop, unable to cope with the pressure that covered me like a blanket, suffocating me.

           " Miss, are you alright? "

[the-fireheart-weekly]

✨ Feyre, darling! ✨

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Crown of Ash and Blood

Chapter 3

Pairing: Eris x Original Character

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: light blood and violence :)

Summary: Eris is cool, calm, and collected.  He’s not known for the fire in his blood, but for his cold manipulation of truth and lies.  Until he meets his match.  Literally.

Masterlist

Eris trailed behind his hounds, following them deeper into the woods.  His father had assigned him to find a deserter, some foolish male who hadn’t shown up for training a few days before.  The rest of his squad sang the same tune: he’d received word of his mother’s illness and left that very night.  Eris knew what his father’s order would be before he said a word.  Find and kill him.  Publicly.

It didn’t matter that the male had shown admirable loyalty to his family or that he’d requested permission to leave.  All that mattered was Beron’s decision that the male had deserted his post before his request was accepted.

Eris tried to make it quick.

His father had neglected to mention a deadline, so Eris took his time returning to make his final report.  He sent his soldiers ahead, choosing to maintain a leisurely pace with his hounds.  He’d tell his father that the hounds had scented something, and he’d followed the trail to inspect the source.

The hounds barked and Eris tugged his mare to a halt.  He scanned the trees, finding nothing amiss.  Then he saw it.  A shadow under a fallen branch thickened, darkening slightly.  A piece of parchment fluttered to the ground, settling among the fallen leaves, and the shadow returned to normal.

Growling softly, Eris swung down from the saddle, stalking over to the tree to retrieve Rhysand’s love note.  As requested, rescheduled for tomorrow at noon.

Half a thought set the paper alight.  It was nothing but ash by the time it hit the forest floor.

* * * * *

Danae was still pissed about being winnowed to her room like a misbehaving child.  But she was more pissed about the wards on the door.

She discovered the wall of hard air blocking the doorway by running into it face-first.  Her nose still throbbed fiercely, though she tried to distract herself by throwing various objects at the stupid wards.  The floor was covered in shards of shattered vases, one plate, and the two halves of a hairbrush.  Despite knowing that the High Lord likely wouldn’t clean it up, the mess made her feel better.

It was a miracle she was alive, honestly.  Though Danae suspected that was only because of the female, Feyre.  The High Lord was probably trying to impress her with his mercy or some such nonsense.  Cauldron save her, she’d actually challenged the High Lord.  Danae would be surprised if he wasn’t thinking of creative punishments for her.  Her thoughts spiraled, coming up with a few ideas of her own.  The possibilities made her blanch.

She couldn’t stay here.  Locked in this room, she was a sitting duck, a target awaiting his ire.  If he was going to take his revenge for her little speech or turn her mind to jelly, she wasn’t going to make it easier for him.

“Okay, think,” Danae muttered, fighting the urge to pace, considering the state of the floor.  She slumped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as though an escape plan would etch itself upon the stone for her.

How was she even supposed to get away?  Madja said her wings were nearly back to full strength, but that she shouldn’t fly for some time yet to prevent reinjury.  The High Lord surely knew this, since the healer reported back to him every day.

Danae frowned, rolling off the bed and picking her way to the balcony.  She leaned over the railing, peering at the drop below.  The palace was on top of a mountain—bare stone, hardly a handhold in sight, with an unforgiving fall if she slipped.  She doubted she could manage the climb down in one piece, let alone without getting caught.

Then she stopped, blinking.  She was on the balcony.  The High Lord hadn’t placed any wards on the balcony.  Her excitement banked when she remembered her wings, doubtless the reason why there were no wards.  But it was a place to start.

Leaning over the railing again, she looked down, but not at the sheer cliff.  The rooms on either side of hers had balconies as well, but they were too far away to reach them safely.  But the room directly below had one, too.  She grinned, racing back into the room and ripping the sheets from her bed.  Another thought had Danae grabbing a makeshift weapon from her breakfast tray, shoving it into her braided hair.  It was best to be prepared.

She moved back outside, knotting the sheets securely to form a makeshift rope.  Danae looped one end around her waist and the other around a portion of the carved banister, a security measure in case she slipped.  Then she sat on the railing, swinging her legs over one at a time.  She turned until the stone dug into her stomach, then slowly lowered herself down, arms straining.  Her fingers barked, digging into the rough stone, but even with her body fully extended, she couldn’t feel anything beneath her toes.  Grunting with effort, Danae shifted her grip to the makeshift rope, praying it would hold her weight.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, slickening her palms, but Danae didn’t let herself succumb to her nerves.  She lowered herself down the rope, letting it slide through her fingers inch by inch, until her feet found purchase on the balcony below.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she pulled with her toes, flapping her wings gently to propel her forward.  The momentum was enough to send her fully onto the balcony and away from the drop.  Danae fell into a crouch on the balcony proper, limbs trembling with adrenaline.

Her fingers picked at the knot around her waist, and Danae left the rope behind.  She could only hope that no one found it before she managed to escape.

Creeping into the room, Danae found it empty, as was the hallway.  She darted down the seemingly endless corridor, thinking furiously.  The High Lord was Illyrian, if only half.  She found it hard to believe that any Illyrian would live in a place with only one way out: flying.  Two, if she counted winnowing.  But there had to be another way.

The mountain below.  She’d seen a massive set of doors, so there was obviously something within.  If she followed that trail of thought, it made sense if there was a passageway, something that led from the palace all the way to the base of the mountain.  Danae slipped into the first stairwell she found, heading downwards.  If there was an escape route, she was fairly sure it would be on the lowest level.

She checked every room, desperation mounting with each failure.  Just more bedrooms and closets.  Fighting the urge to slam the doors shut, Danae tried the final one.  She blinked.

Stairs.  Leading downwards.

* * * * *

“Glad you could make it, Eris,” Rhysand drawled.

Eris smiled, pulling out a chair.  Same cramped meeting room, same arrogant assholes.  “I thought it was only fair to make you wait, since you enjoy doing it to me,” he said.  The chair disappeared right before he sat down.  “Childish revenge tactics don’t suit you, Rhysand.”

“Oh no, that was me,” Feyre smirked.

“Ah, that makes much more sense,” he said, settling into another chair.  “After all, you’re only twenty years old now?  Twenty-one?  It’ll take time to mature.”

Along the wall, Azriel’s grip tightened on his blade.  Eris ignored him.

“No Morrigan today?  What a shame,” Eris tutted, leaning back in his seat.

The Shadowsinger leaned forward a bit, as if preparing to leap across the table and skewer him.  Eris’ smile widened in a silent challenge.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, patience worn thin.  “What do you want?”

“I wanted to check on my allies, especially after seeing such evidence of turmoil.  If you become entangled in an internal war, you won’t be especially useful to me anymore,” Eris said, inspecting his nails.

Feyre snorted, “Curious about your charred victims?”

“Hardly victims,” he said with a snort.  “Apparently, The Night Court has more internal warring than Autumn.”

Rhysand’s expression went blank for a moment, then his mouth curled up.  “Are you more interested in the female?  I have to be honest, Eris, I didn’t think you’d go for a lesser faerie.”

“I’d say the same of you, but,” Eris trailed off, gesturing towards the Illyrian behind them.

Both Feyre and Azriel looked positively murderous.  Eris’ blood thrummed at the tension in the air, but Rhysand cut through it with a wave of his hand.  “I have more important things to do than play games with you.  Out with it already.”

“I have doubts that the conflict with Briallyn has been resolved.”

“Doubts?  She’s dead,” Feyre said, confusion splashed across her face.

“Yes, as you’ve told me.  I need to know more,” Eris said.  “And you need to be cautious of my father.”

“Explain,” Rhysand said.

“You know how this works, Rhysand.  Information for information.”

Feyre lounged in her chair like a throne.  Eris nearly snorted at the act, knowing exactly how uncomfortable the furniture was.  “Her name is Danae.”  The her in question was obvious, as was the intent to sniff out a potential weakness.  Too bad for them, because Eris didn’t have any.  Unless Rhysand decided to kill another High Lord’s wife.

Eris rolled his eyes, avoiding Feyre’s sad attempt to bait him.  “That’s not the information I’m interested in.”

“Well, then,” Rhysand leaned back, lacing his fingers together over his stomach.  “What are you interested in?”

“Briallyn.  Tell me what happened.”

Feyre blinked.  “Why?”

“Don’t make me remind you twice,” Eris snapped.

“We get it,” Rhysand sneered.  “Very well.  Nesta UnMade her.”

“Surely you can do better than that,” Eris scoffed.

Feyre interjected, picking up where Rhysand had so kindly left off.  “Briallyn had a plan to kill Nesta, in hopes that the Cauldron would give back her youth.  She engineered a situation where Nesta would be powerless, wielded the Crown against Cassian, and tried to kill her.”  Feyre shrugged.  “Obviously, that didn’t work.  Briallyn is nothing but dust.”

Eris nodded, considering.  “You told me she was gone, but not how.”  He took a breath, searching for the right way to explain, without the inner circle dismissing him as they liked to do.  “Something is…wrong.  After news of Briallyn’s death, my father was not as upset as I thought he would be.”

Rhysand’s brows rose.  “And why should we concern ourselves with your father’s mood swings?”

“Because for once, his sons aren’t his biggest concern.  You are,” Eris said, gesturing to the two of them.  “My father hasn’t forgotten Feyre’s powers, or the fact that he relinquished another part of his magic to save you, Rhysand.  He hasn’t forgotten about the two Made sisters currently residing in the Night Court.  And he certainly hasn’t forgotten how you humiliated him at the meeting in Dawn.”  Eris’ jaw tightened at the memory.  Though it had been satisfying to watch Rhysand make a mockery of his father, Beron had been quite displeased upon their return to Autumn.  “He feels weak, and that means he needs to take out the important players on the board before they strike first.  Autumn does not suffer fools,” Eris finished.

“And you really think we should believe your warning?  Of a mysterious assassination plot?”

“It won’t be an assassination,” Eris scoffed.  “It will be obliteration with an ally more powerful than all of your court combined.”

“Koschei?”

“I don’t know of any other death-gods running around,” Eris said dryly.  “If my father is not furious at one of his allies being eliminated, it means one of two things: either she wasn’t his ally or he has a better one to replace her.”

Rhysand looked contemplative.  “We know they were communicating before.”

“Or he was communicating through her,” Feyre pointed out.

“It could be Koschei,” Rhysand said, brows drawn.

“What news do you have from Vassa?  Has he contacted her?”  Eris demanded, tapping his fingers on the table.  It had taken them long enough to reach the same conclusion he’d come to weeks ago.

Feyre’s tone was snide.  “Cassian saw you there before, why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Eris exhaled forcefully, willing calm to his veins.  “If you have the information, perhaps you can make yourself useful and share it,” he said.

Azriel spoke up, voice cold as ice, “Vassa has heard nothing.”  That wasn’t good.  In Eris’ opinion, no news was worse than bad news.  It meant they had no idea what was coming.

“Why are you so worried?  It’s a bit out of character,” Rhysand chuckled.

Eris blew out a breath.  “Whether you believe it is irrelevant, but I am concerned with the future of all the courts, not just Autumn.  If one falls, the rest will follow.”

* * * * *

Danae had thrown up twice on the damned spiral staircase.  Whoever designed it was a sadist, she decided, swaying slightly as she descended.

When she ran out of steps, Danae stopped, momentarily confused.  Then she lunged forward into a dimly lit hallway.  When she turned back, she saw no sign of the stairs, only dark stone.  She snorted.  What good was a secret staircase if anyone could find it?

The hall was carved out of black rock, small lights set into the walls every few feet.  Aside from the faelights, both directions looked identical.  With a shrug, Danae picked the left path, still a bit woozy from the climb.  If she was wrong, she’d simply turn around.  Then she caught a faint whisper of sound.  Voices?  Danae paused before continuing onward.  If she got caught, she thought grimly, she’d just have to hope she was faster.

I wouldn’t go that way, a voice whispered.  Danae spun around, coming face to face with a slender female.

For a moment, Danae couldn’t do more than gape.  At first glance, the female wore nothing more than a carefully draped piece of fabric.  A thin belt held the material at her waist, somehow preserving her modesty.  Her brown hair hung in soft waves to the small of her back.  She was horribly pale, as though she’d never seen a wisp of sunlight, and the black gown did little to improve her complexion.  Dark eyes watched her from a too-thin face, brows heavy with suspicion.

Panic hit Danae a heartbeat later.  “Don’t say anything,” she hissed.

The female blinked, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.  I’ll want something in exchange for my silence.

Danae’s lungs froze.  The female’s mouth hadn’t moved.  “You’re a—”

Daemati.  Would you like to make a bargain?  The female tipped her head to the side, eyes glittering.

Bargains were tricky.  She’d never made one before, but Danae knew the magic was old and powerful.  However, to get out of here safely, she would have to risk it.  “Your silence.  And the way out of this mountain.  What do you want in return?”

The female watched her for a moment.  A memory.  Share one of your favorite memories of the outside world.

“Are you going to steal it?”

The female’s mouth twitched again.  No, I only wish to see something new.  Show me a memory, and I will show you the way.  I will not tell anyone of your presence until you have escaped.

Danae blinked.  “That’s it?  Fine.”

It’s a bargain, the female nodded.  Immediately, tingles erupted on Danae’s wrist.  When she looked down, she saw an inverted triangle, the inked mark no larger than the pad of her thumb.  The female revealed the same dark tattoo on her own wrist before gesturing to Danae impatiently.

“How do I—”

Simply think of the memory, and when I knock upon the gates to your mind, let me enter.

Danae shuddered at the thought of making herself so vulnerable to attack, but she’d made a bargain.  Only now she realized how foolish she’d been, not specifying that the female must not harm her.  Swallowing hard, Danae closed her eyes, thinking back to happier times.  Without any conscious decision, she found herself remembering the summer she learned to fly.

Then she felt a ripple, like a fingertip dipped into a pond.  Danae’s awareness of her own mind solidified until an image formed.  There were no gates, as the female had said.  Rather, Danae had a low stone wall encircling her mind, weathered with age.  Yet a dark form lingered respectfully beyond it.  As she watched, the figure reached out to tap on her wall again.

Danae nodded, unsure how to change the wall to allow entry, but soon found she did not need to.  The figure simply crested the wall, a shadowy wave, and touched upon the memory in her grasp.

“Alright, darling, I’m going to let you go this time.”

Danae squealed nervously, clinging to her mother’s shoulders.  “I’m not ready,” she begged.

“If you don’t try, you never will be,” her mother said sagely.  “Don’t fret.  Close your eyes and listen for a moment.”

Shaking lightly, Danae squeezed her eyes shut.  She listened, trying to ignore her own panicked breathing.  After a little while, her breaths slowed, and she caught the sound of the trees creaking in the wind.  Leaves rustled, and birds called high above.  She breathed, ears catching the whispering of the grass and the buzzing of bees.

“Are you ready?”

Danae nodded, opening her eyes.  “Yes,” she determined.  She spread her wings wide to catch the breeze, and flapped once, twice.  Her mother helped, bending her knees and then launching Danae into the sky.  Only this time, she let go of Danae’s feet.  When Danae felt air beneath her toes, instead of her mother’s shoulders, fear set in, but only for a heartbeat.  Her wings strained, flapping again, and Danae whooped when she lifted a bit higher.  The sun warmed the delicate membrane, a reassuring feeling as she swooped across the clearing.  “I’m flying,” she called, exhilarated.

Her mother laughed, the sound ringing loud and clear.  “Yes, you are,” she called back.

Danae blinked, suddenly finding herself back in the hallway.  Her heart twisted, wishing she could swim in that memory forever.  But it had been a long time, and there was no going back.  Danae shook her head, banishing the longing.  She’d fulfilled her end of the bargain, so she looked at the female, ready to demand her half of the deal.  But after seeing the wonder that lit up the other female’s gaze, Danae found herself asking a different question.  “What’s your name?”

Does it matter?  The female’s face shuttered.

Danae knew that look.  She’d seen it on her mother’s face every day.  “Yes,” she whispered fiercely.  “Come with me.”

The female looked incredulous.  Where are you going?

Danae shook her head impatiently.  “I don’t know yet.  Anywhere but here.”

The brunette tossed her head, eyes mocking.  Without a plan, you are doomed to fail.

“It’s better than choosing to stay in my prison cell,” Danae hissed.  “Even a slim chance of escape is better than refusing any chance at all.”

My father, the female began, then cut herself off.  She took a breath before starting again.  If I am caught trying to escape, the punishment will be worse than death.

Danae pinched the bridge of her nose.  She never thought she’d miss Illyria before running into so many foolish, stubborn, and idiotic High Fae.  Illyrians understood the need to act, no matter the odds.  Madja, she mused, could be an exception.

Growling slightly, Danae glared back at the female.  “One day, when you work up the courage to leave, I will find a way to help you out.  Even if I think you’re a hateful coward right now.”

The other female stilled.  Why would you help me?  It’s not a part of our bargain.  After all, I am a hateful coward.  Her mental voice sounded off, tinged with something bitter.

“No one deserves to be a prisoner.”  Danae stepped forward, forcing the female to meet her gaze.  “Not even cowards.”

The female was quiet for a few moments, gaze unwavering.  Finally, she spoke.  How will I reach you?

Danae did her best not to crow with victory, however small it was.  “You’re daemati, I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she smirked.  “Now, our bargain.”

With a nod, the female reached out, touching a fingertip to the back of Danae’s hand.  A memory exploded, but not one of her own.  Danae watched twisting hallways unfurl in her mind as the female showed her the way out of the mountain.  When the vision ended, the female was gone.  But not without a final message.

Calliope.

* * * * *

The meeting had gone well.  No one died.  Unlike their other meetings, Rhysand remained after Feyre and Azriel winnowed away.  Or however the shadowy one managed to get around.  It was on his list of things to investigate, but Eris ignored his curiosity for the time being.

“To what do I owe the honor of your extended presence?”  Eris pushed open the meeting room door, neglecting to hold it for his host.

Rhysand simply leveled a smug smile at him.  “Just making sure you don’t try exploring my court again.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Eris said dryly.

“I’m not an idiot,” Rhysand chuckled, leading the way down the hall.  “You were feeling lonely when no one showed up for the last meeting, and you decided to investigate a little.”

“So you are aware of your habitual lateness,” Eris remarked.  “Good to know.”

“I don’t intend to let you poke around where you don’t belong,” Rhysand said, coming to a halt in the empty corridor.  “We’re allies, but I’m under no delusions that you won’t stab me in the back at the first opportunity.”

“Your powers of perception are enviable, as always,” Eris drawled, stopping a few feet away.  “But between the two of us, I know who is less trustworthy.  What good is an ally who will break vows of neutrality in front of all the High Lords?”

Rhysand stiffened at the reminder of the meeting in Dawn.  “If you’ll recall, I did no such thing.”

Eris barked a laugh.  “That’s right, only your mate and spymaster did.  Your hands are clean,” he said with a sneer.  “Except for the chair.”

Rhysand’s mouth tightened, but he remained silent.  A welcome reprieve.

“Say what you will, Rhysand, but I’ve always kept my word,” Eris said, striding down the hallway again.

Eris had only made it a few steps before Rhysand spoke again.  “The female has nearly healed,” he said, quietly enough that Eris had to strain to hear it.  “She’s nearly as infuriating as you are.”

He ignored the taunts, seeing them for the poisoned barbs they were.  Feyre had failed to pry open his defenses earlier, so now it was Rhysand’s turn.  Eris kept walking, his stride even.

“It seems that once the shock wore off, she decided to unleash her tongue,” Rhysand continued.  “I still haven’t decided on a punishment.  Perhaps you could share some ideas?”

“You’re perfectly capable of being a prick without my help,” Eris said coolly.  He kept his face carefully blank, unsure who was watching the encounter.  “Ask your mate.  She was creative enough in Spring.”

After that, Rhysand let him go.  When Eris looked over his shoulder, the male was gone.  No doubt seeking reassurances from his two-faced mate.  He snorted, making his way out of the winding corridors.  The wards prevented anyone from winnowing in and out without permission, which Rhysand was unlikely to grant, so he was forced to leave from the entry hall.

For a time, the only sound was the clicking of his boots, but as he approached the entry, raised voices met his ears.  Eris frowned, maintaining his leisurely pace.  He had no interest in the Court of Nightmares and their endless dramatics, though they had their uses.  If they were occupying the front hall, he’d have no choice but to spectate.  But that didn’t mean he was in a hurry to get there.

He rounded the corner, unsurprised to see a handful of Darkbringers taking up space in front of the massive entryway.  Eris pursed his lips, scanning for any useful information.  More than likely, it was some punishment or another.  Keir could have been bored and ordered his soldiers to hunt down someone for sport.  Eris didn’t particularly care, but he never wasted an opportunity to glean secrets.  Anything could be useful later.

Eris frowned, leaning against the wall while he waited.  The Darkbringers tightened their circle, corralling whoever it was into one corner.  In the gap between two dark armored bodies, he caught a glimpse of wings.  His frown deepened.  How had the Hewn City managed to trap an Illyrian within its walls?  And why?

One of the Darkbringers went down on one knee, fingers scrabbling at his throat.  The others backed up a step, reaching for the weapons they hadn’t yet drawn, allowing Eris to see what had spooked them.  A female.  One he recognized.  His mouth parted in shock.

The female was crouched low to the ground, a bloody fork in her hand.  Dark hair tumbled around her face, hazel eyes flashing against her deeply tanned skin.  Her teeth were bared in a snarl, but the furious expression did nothing to detract from the perfect symmetry of her features.  If anything, Eris found her more beautiful for it.  He cocked his head, remembering the terrified female from before.  She bore no similarity to the fearsome creature in the hall.

As he watched, another Darkbringer moved in, dagger half out of its sheath, but the female was quicker.  She slashed with her fork, cutting a line across the male’s cheekbone, then angling back for a second hit, slamming the blunt end into his temple.  Eris couldn’t stop the quirk of his lips.  A fork.  He ought to tell his mother about it.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he blinked and suddenly found the girl racing towards him.  She must have ducked through the gap in the guards, taking advantage of their clunky armor and reluctance to use weapons on a female armed so pathetically.  He could imagine the beating they’d receive later for allowing the injuries.  Keir’s legendary darkbringers, laid low by a piece of silverware.

The female’s bright eyes widened, then narrowed on him, determination etched into every line of her body as she neared.  She must have recognized him.

But then the damned fork was pressing into his jugular.  “Winnow us,” she hissed into his ear, fisting his collar and tugging him backwards.  He stumbled, off-balance.  For some reason, his fire wouldn’t come when he called.  He gritted his teeth, but not even a spark jumped from his fingertips.  “Winnow us,” she repeated, the sharp instrument digging into his skin.

As the Darkbringers barrelled towards them, Eris’ mind raced.  He could see the sweat on their brows and feel blood welling on his neck.  His blood heated.  Then an idea clicked into place.  His lips curled in a smirk, Eris pulled the female with him, his magic spearing across the world to the Middle.

* * * * *

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[acourtofbooksandfantasy]

Starfall - Azriel x fem! Reader

Disclaimer: this is my first piece I’ve ever published. I’m not taking requests but would be open to ideas for new things to write! Let me know what you think. I had this idea the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about it until I wrote it down. I also originally named the main fem! character but decided to make it Y/N at the last minute, so if her name is in there then whoops! Either way, enjoy xx

Starfall. The most beautiful night in Prythian. Souls traveling to a far off place, leaving a blinding beauty in their wake. The Night Court prepared for weeks to welcome their passage.

Each member of the Inner Circle enjoyed this day, but Azriel often used this day to mourn. And to hope. Each year, he would wish upon those flying glimmers of starlight. Praying. Hoping. One day, he would find his mate.

In the past, he used the evening to drink and pray and hope that Mor would realize she was his mate. But when she and Emerie confirmed their mating bond two years prior, Azriel simply used this evening to wish upon the stars for someone of his very own.

This year was not any different, until two months before when a secret Illyrian camp was raided and a young woman was found, wingless. She was battered and bruised, terrified of any male who came near her. Cassian had brought her back to the House of Wind with Feyre’s help, to give her a place to recover and rest.

Over the coming weeks, she revealed to Mor and Amren that her name was Y/N, and that she had been sold to the foul Illyrians at a high price to help support her family. She was used for work, cleaning and cooking, and kept in a small room. She revealed her wings were taken after a visit where Rhysand and Cassian required Devlon to start training all Illyrian females. As she told the story, even Amren shed a tear.

Cassian and Azriel were introduced to Y/N, along with Nesta, to help train her. Even without wings, Feyre believed it would do her much good to know how to protect herself. And Y/N vowed she would never again let someone lay hands on her unless she asked. Over the weeks, Cassian and Azriel coached from the sidelines as Nesta and Mor demonstrated and helped, since Y/N still feared the males being too close. Each day she grew a little stronger, and became more confident. It became evident just how much the training was helping her mentally when she agreed to come out for a night at Rita’s with the Inner Circle. Much to Morrigan’s delight, as she would finally have a friend to dance with who wouldn’t make inappropriate comments like Cass.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch from across the bar as Mor and Y/N jumped and spun, without a care in the world. However, he became alarmed as he noticed two dark males approaching her from behind. Each one reached to grab her arms, and he growled as he flew from his chair. He pushed the men back, scooping Y/N into his arms and winnowing both her and Mor to the back of the bar where he knew no one would be. When he put her down, Y/N stared at him breathlessly. She couldn’t believe it, but when he came out of nowhere to rescue them, she hadn’t felt fear. In fact, she felt a strange pull in her stomach. Deep, aching. Longing. Like, she had known him before, in another time perhaps.

The mating bond.

It caused her to step back as it snapped into place.

But Azriel didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“Are you alright?” He asked, gently brushing a hand to her elbow as she stood, star struck.

“Yes. I’m fine….thank you.” She replied after a few awkward seconds.

Mor gave her a puzzling look, “Uh…okay you two let’s go home. Az…”

He grabbed their hands and winnowed them back to their home.

That night, Y/N sat alone in her room, feeling a pull towards the shadowsinger’s room. She knew she should probably stay, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she went. Her curiosity got the best of her, and all of a sudden she was stood outside his bedroom. One hand ready to knock, but unsure of what she would say. She stood there nervously until the door cracked open, and Azriel popped his head out into the hall. He was only wearing some trousers, his hair disheveled from the slumber he’d just awoken from.

“ Y/N. Is there…something wrong?” He asked nervously.

“I…I…” Y/N scrambled for a reason to be in front of his door, “I sometimes have nightmares. I can’t fall asleep because I’m afraid of having a terrible dream.”

“Oh. I see.” Azriel said.

Y/N stood there, unsure of what to do next, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sor-“

But before she could finish her thought, he grabbed her wrist gently and brought her inside.

“You can stay for a little while if you’d like,” Azriel started, “I have nightmares too. About my hands. And my mother. We can watch out for each other. And I can take you back to your room when you’re ready. You take the bed, I can sleep here.” He gestures to the small couch at the foot of his bed.

“Azriel I don’t want to take your bed.” Y/N stated, feeling guilty about coming in the first place.

“I insist.” Azriel gestured to the bed.

She sat down on the edge, as he laid himself on the couch that was barely big enough for him and his enormous wings. Even with them all tucked in, he nearly spilled out the sides of the couch.

She laid down as well, waiting for slumber to set in, but it didn’t, because she could only focus on the tug from her to him.

Close to an hour had passed, when finally a whisper emerged from the quiet. “Az?” Y/N lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes?” Azriel replied timidly.

“Can you…can you come up here?” Y/N asked rather calmly.

Silence filled the room, before the tall and dark Illyrian stood from the couch, slowly setting himself down on the other side of the bed. He lay flat on his back as well, as if trying to avoid touching her at all costs.

She reached across the bed and found his hand, interlocking her fingers in his. She rubbed her thumb along the lines of his scars.

“Thank you. For rescuing me. Maybe I can help rescue you from your nightmares?” Y/N said.

Azriel smiled at the ceiling in the dark, “Perhaps.”

________________________________________

Each of the girls from the Inner Circle had gone to the seamstress weeks prior to the event to have gowns made for the celebration. Each of the girls selected a gown some shade of Night Court black, except for Y/N. Feyre and the rest of the Night Court females found a gorgeous silver silk fabric, embedded with tiny crystals. When held up to the light, the fabric twinkled like a sea of stars.

“ Y/N! Since you are our special guest for the celebration, you should have a dress made from this!” Mor shouted, shoving a pile of the fabric into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N stared, mouth wide open, “I’m not sure, I don’t want to…”

Feyre stopped her by gentle placing a hand on her shoulder. “You are not a burden, and no one will be upset if you outshine every one of us. You deserve to have a night as fabulous as you are after all you’ve endured.”

Y/N smirked and nodded. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have a dress made from this!”

________________________________________

The males waited, rather impatiently, in the front hall at the bottom of the staircase.

“You all have been getting ready since 10 o’clock this morning, you can’t SERIOUSLY still be primping can you??” Cassian grumbled as he leaned back on the wall.

Morrigan exited her room where they had all been drinking, giggling, and preparing for the evening. “You clearly have no understanding of what getting ready means to females, “ she said as she rolled her eyes at the general.

One by one, each of the girls stepped out. Feyre and Y/N were the last left inside the room. “You look lovely, Y/N. I’m so glad you’ve become one of our best friends.” Feyre gave Y/N a small squeeze. Y/N smiled, still appearing somewhat nervous for this evening.

Feyre studied her face closely, “He will think you are the most magnificent creature in the room tonight,” she whispered with a wink.

All the breath left Y/N’s lungs as she thought of the spymaster.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

Her heart pounded as Feyre gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading to the staircase. “Come along, Y/N. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

________________________________________

His breath caught in the back of his throat at the sight of her at the top of the staircase.

The floor length gown had a deep v down the front, with two sheer straps that wrapped over her shoulders and crossed in the back. The silky fabric flowed as she took each step. She shimmered like starlight, and as the shimmering fabric moved it made it as thought Y/N herself was glowing in the night.

“Holy shit.” Cassian mumbled under his breath. Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

As Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, everyone stopped what they were doing.

“Well, shall we?” Rhysand asked with a playful grin, simultaneously locking arms with his mate and nudging his spymaster brother towards the girl in the sparkling gown.

Azriel and Y/N stood for a moment. Y/N’s eyes remained focused on her feet, and Azriel watched as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. In that moment, when she looked up and locked eyes with him, he felt everything. A rushing of magic, or spirit, or something, coursed through his veins.

“Mate,” he said, so softly that only she could hear.

They remained frozen in time, stood there, taking in one another. As if their souls needed time to catch up on all the time they had been apart.

Azriel extended a hand to her, and their hands intertwined as they left the front hall. As they walked, Azriel leaned in and whispered to his mate, “You know, it might be hard to keep my hands off of you tonight.” Y/N peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. “You are quick to forget, I have not accepted the bond yet,” she replied with a smirk.

“You wound me, my love,” he stated with a look of bewilderment and shock. It took everything in him not to scoop her into his arms and winnow back to his room, to have his way with her right then and there.

________________________________________

They danced most of the night. So much so, that Cassian made several jokes about how he’d never seen his brother dance that much in their entire lives. It didn’t bother Y/N or Azriel one bit.

The couple stopped to sit and watch as the souls began to descend across the sky, traveling to wherever they belong. Azriel couldn’t help but watch his mate as she stared into the sky, absolutely enamored with her.

Y/N could feel the sting of his stare on her cheek. She turned to him, and reached across the table, her hand closed holding an object tightly inside. “I’d like to give you something,” she smiled. Azriel gave her a perplexed look, opening her hands to find a macaron.

He looked at the pastry, then his mate, and back to the pastry. “Are…are you certain?”

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.” Y/N replied confidently.

Azriel forced himself to savor every bite of the macaron, when really he wanted to shove the whole thing into his mouth so he could whisk her away from the party. Once he was finally finished, he stood, gesturing for Y/N to take his hand.

Cassian shouted from across the dance floor, “Hey brother!! Don’t be too loud tonight, SOME of us need our beauty rest!!” Nodding his head towards Rhysand. Feyre smacked him across the back of his head and Rhysand laughed. Azriel let out a low growl, but Y/N placed her hand on his lower back and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Take me home, shadowsinger.”

And they winnowed away into the night, as fast as the spirits had traveled across the midnight sky.

[myloversthesunrise]

but in your sacred air i am full of light (ix)

Lin felt his violet gaze upon her face, and suddenly all of her senses were heightened of their situation. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his exposed chest and the smooth bare skin. His folded hands were nearly touching the side of her thigh and their bodies were sitting in close proximity, only within one foot of space. The room was dark, only lit with flickering lights of the candle and the air was cool, calling for a warm bed or another’s embrace. After the lover’s stunt he had pulled earlier which caused the butterflies in her stomach, Lin decided it would be to drag on her work and avoid eye contact with the man. Lest she began to desire him and started something she was going to regret.

rhysand x original character | not canon compliant | can be read as a reader fic if you don’t mind her physical description | AO3

chapter: i. never be rude to a faerie | ii. never give them your true name | iii [a ghost from the past] | iv. faeries cannot lie | v. faeries cannot lie [ii] | vi. never make a bargain with a faerie | vii. [the dreamers, hopeful] | viii. [the dreamer, the protector] | ix. [the dreamer, the protector (ii)]

warnings: discussions from the sexual harassment in the previous chapter

word count: 4893

notes: surprise bitch. you thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you? okay on a more serious note, this is the last chapter i'm writing before i get on the HIATUS. technically speaking it's still the same chapter. the early draft had nearly 9k word count so i split it into two and now you have a little bonus chapter :D more rhys and lin here and i really am trying to put in some action but please be patient with me :( i hope you'll enjoy!!

Lin took a horrified glance at Rhys’ bed hair and exposed chest. The first three of his buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a smooth brown chest. He had ditched his expensive clothes for a plain black cotton shirt with breeches of the same color. The only thing that remained the same was his leather boots.

Ada snapped her head to look at Lin and wait for her explanations, but all she saw was her wide eyes and gaping mouth, staring at the fae in front of them with the most flabbergasted expression Ada had ever seen.

“Lin,” the vine-haired faerie called her. “Do you know this... male?” She demanded as one of her hand vaguely gestured to the faerie in front of them.

Ada’s question broke Lin out of her trance and she nodded furiously. “He’s my friend,” Lin reassured while moving to stand in front of Ada with Rhysand to her back, showing her trust to him. The young woman held Ada’s extended hand with both of hers tightly to assure the protective fae.

“Don’t worry about her,” Despite not facing Rhys, Lin could feel the fae was smirking. She felt him move behind her before feeling an arm sneaking around her waist and a warm body right by her side.

“She’s in good hands.” Rhysand tried to soothe the protective female in front of him and hoped that Lin could play her part well.

Ada’s eyes darted down to Rhysand’s arm where he casually wrapped it around her waist. Her eyes darted up suspiciously to Lin.

The young woman nearly flinched at Ada’s sharp gaze.

Lin pushed away Rhys’ arm from her waist and playfully hit his shoulder with her fist. “Not here,” she shyly giggled at the fae behind her and held back her gag at the cutesy act.

But Rhys did not retaliate her play.

His eyes were focused on the bandages in her arm.

He took her hand that hit his chest and held it out, bringing her arm close to his face where he studied it carefully. His violet eyes were dark and his eyebrows were furrowed in worry.

“What happened?”

Lin’s brown eyes met his violet ones and she was taken aback by the concern she saw in it.

“Madam Beatrice,” Ada jumped in to explain and tried to remind the ‘lovers’ of her presence.

Rhysand turned his gaze at the female behind Lin and waited for her to elaborate.

“Lin couldn’t mop the floors well—and one of the High Faes slipped after she did it,” the vine-haired faerie explained with her arms crossed in displeasure. “This wasn’t the first time she didn’t do a good job when mopping and the High Faes got involved.”

Ada’s lips curled up into a scowl and shrugged mockingly. “You can conclude how it went.”

Rhysand frowned even deeper at her answer and took another look at Lin’s bandaged arms. His thumb gently traced her arms through her bandages, as if trying to caress every single one of her cuts and bruises.

Lin ignored the butterflies in her stomach and tried to break Rhys off from his staring match with her arm and his gentle caresses.

“They’re just small cuts and bruises,” she comforted him. Her eyes softened at his attention. “Ada did a really good job when she helped me dress the wound. It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Lin nodded her head in consolation despite knowing that Rhys wasn’t looking at her.

The faerie finally broke free from his gaze and looked at Ada earnestly.

“Thank you. For taking care of her.”

His appreciation surprised Lin even further as her eyebrows raised up to her forehead and stared at him like he was a newly found exotic animal.

Ada nodded in reply and without waiting any further, Rhys wrapped his arms back to her waist and turned her around, smoothly ushering Lin into her room.

The young woman could only raise her hand and yelled out a quick “Good night!” while Rhys nodded in greeting and saw Ada raise her hand back. After Ada replied with her own “Good night”, Rhysand closed the door in her face and completely enveloped both of them in darkness.

-----

Lin quickly pushed Rhys out of the way and scrambled to her desk. She shuffled around until her hands found the matchbox she had been looking for and quickly lit it up.

With the matchlight, Lin spotted the candle and lit it on without waiting any further.

After making sure all the candles in her room were lit, she snapped her head to glare at Rhys.

“What were you doing in my room?” Lin hissed.

The faerie got up from where he had been pushed against the wall and glared back at her.

For a lesser fae, she sure is strong, he mused quietly. Strong enough to push away a bigger male.

“I waited for you for two hours!” Rhys argued back while walking towards her bed before plopping his body down. His legs were too long for it so he placed his boots on her bedframe.

Lin thought she was going to have a stroke.

After making sure he was comfortable, Rhysand turned his eyes to the owner of the room to see her glowering at him.

“Do,” she hissed.

“Not,” she stomped.

“Wear,” she stood by him with one of her hands fisted tight and the other curled up like a claw.

“Your shoes,” she gathered the collars of his shirt and fisted it tight.

“On my bed!” Her last act was to yell out those words as she tried to pick him up by his shirt.

Unfortunately, the female could only lift him off her bed by half an inch before her arms gave out.

Rhysand chuckled. Not as strong as I thought.

Not wanting to anger her any further, he jumped off the bed and playfully flicked her forehead.

“So bossy,” he teased.

The male picked up the messed-up clothes on the Not-Lin’s bed and threw it carelessly to Lin’s bed before plopping down and folding his arms behind his pillow.

Lin took a deep breath and sighed.

At least he wasn’t on my bed with his outside clothes and his dirty boots anymore.

The young woman turned around walked towards the door where she washed her hands and her face on the basin by the door. After washing off the soap and drying it with a towel, she turned back around and walked towards Rhys while dragging her chair. Lin placed the chair by her bedside and sat down before starting to fold her clothes.

“When Madam Beatrice was doing her... punishment,” she began carefully. “A High Fae walked in.”

Her last word piqued Rhysand’s interest.

“I might be wrong, but I think he was the same fae I saw sneaking out a few days ago.”

Now she had caught his full attention.

Rhysand sat up and on the bed with both of his feet touching the ground and his arms leaning on his knees. His body leaned forward and his hands were folded in attention.

Lin felt his violet gaze upon her face, and suddenly all of her senses were heightened of their situation. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his exposed chest and the smooth bare skin. His folded hands were nearly touching the side of her thigh and their bodies were sitting in close proximity, only within one foot of space. The room was dark, only lit with flickering lights of the candle and the air was cool, calling for a warm bed or another’s embrace.

After the lover's stunt he had pulled earlier which caused the butterflies in her stomach, Lin decided it would be to drag on her work and avoid eye contact with the man.

Lest she began to desire him and started something she was going to regret.

The young woman cleared her throat and straightened up in her seat.

“He had shoulder-length hair, colored like copper. And he wore his ring on his thumb too. His clothes were many shades of brown and orange, like the autumn.”

Rhysand’s eyebrow furrowed in concentration as he lifted up his hands to prop his chin.

Lin tried not to exhale too loudly in relief. She did not trust herself not to catch feelings with the beautiful fae, and the more distance they have, the better.

“I didn’t get to ask his name, but he was very... playful. Like a little child, or a spoiled prince.” Lin continued as she folded the last piece of her cloth and dropped her hands to her lap, fumbling with it nervously.

“He also—” she hesitated.

Would he care? The young woman asked herself.

But before Lin could answer herself, Rhys dropped the question.

“What did he do?” Rhys growled.

His voice was solemn and low, as if not wanting to startle Lin who was surprised at his tone and turned to look into his face before she could stop herself.

Rhys’ violet eyes were dark and his face was serious. His shoulders were tense and his hands fisted tight, like a panther ready to pounce. From the corner of her eyes, Lin could see the shadows of the candlelight begin to dance fiercely and dangerously. Suddenly, the darkness felt even darker and began to close in on them. The fire from the candlelight began to flicker uncontrollably.

Yet somehow, Lin knew she was not his target.

Lin’s hand fisted tightly, creating crescent marks into her palms in anxiety and she shook her head.

“He didn’t do anything,” her voice trembled at the memory and Lin felt the candles begin to steady down before it eventually went back to its gentle flickering. The shadows of her candles had stopped their fierce dancing and returned to its old rhythm, following the candle’s flickering.

But the darkness didn’t go away.

Lin did not look away from Rhys, only darted her eyes downwards but she could feel it.

It stood around them. Calm and steady, wrapping around them like a blanket yet still ever so tense.

“He asked me to sit on his lap,” Lin mumbled. “And feed him biscuits.”

Without looking up, she felt the tension begin to dissipate from Rhys’ body as he let out a small breath.

“But it still felt like—” she tried to find the right words. “Like a violation.”

Rhysand grabbed her shoulders and held it tight, trying to give some of his strength to the female in front of him.

“I’ll see what I can do about him,” he comforted.

Lin’s head shot up to meet his gaze.

Him? Against a High Lord’s son?

She knew he wasn’t just a soldier, but she didn’t know he was that powerful.

“If he was as whorish as you told me about, then he was probably Antoine, the Little Piggy of the Autumn Court.”

Lin snorted at the nickname and Rhysand felt his lips curled up into a ghost smile at her lightening mood.

“The female servants were the ones to give him that name, I’ve heard.” Rhys continued as he took off his hands of her shoulders. “He’s the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, and very well known for his promiscuous habits.”

Unconsciously, Lin frowned at the missing and reassuring warmth. Her frown deepened even further as she watched Rhysand scoot back into the bed to sit straight against the wall with one of his legs straightened out and the other one raised up, using his knee to support his arm.

Shoes and all.

Men, she internally sneered.

“If I remember correctly, he was a sickly child so the High Lord and his Lady tend to spoil the piggy quite a lot,” Rhys shrugged. “I suppose the habit never stopped.”

Suddenly, Rhysand remembered an important detail that he had left out. “But he was quite snobby with his females too,” he frowned. His hand moved to rub his chin in concentration. “He insisted on having the prettiest females as his servants, and most of them tend to be High Faes or at least having one High Fae as a parent.”

Lin’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the faerie in front of her carefully picked his words.

One wrong word.... she threatened in her mind. And I’m smacking him.

Rhysand noticed the female’s threatening aura and looked up to see her glaring at him.

“Nothing against your friend, of course.” He sputtered while raising his arms in his defense. “I’m sure she’s pretty, but the Autumn Court was rather snobbish and racist when it comes to bloodlines and fae race.”

The female in front of him relaxed but kept her glare fixated on him.

Rhysand kept his eyes on the female, and suddenly everything clicked.

“So it would make sense if he was attracted to you,” he pointed out. His eyes were full of realization and his eyebrows raised high at his discovery. “You’re the only lesser fae who looked the most like a High Fae!”

Lin tried not to flinch at his statement and hoped that she wouldn’t question her parentage. But looking at Rhys’ curious stare, she knew the faerie expected an answer without asking any question.

Moreover, his stare was directed right on her ears, hidden underneath her scarf to hide her identity as a human.

The young woman cleared her throat and hoped that her voice was steady enough.

“I’m a bastard,” she lied. “I was told I have Illyrian ancestry.”

His gaze changed from curiosity into something she could not recognize and Lin felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest in fear.

“Is that why you wear the scarf?” His chin nodded towards the scarf on her head.

“I have bat ears.”

Rhysand masked his expression into a blank one.

The Night Court had not made any contact with Xian in centuries. There are some trade cities around the Hewn City, but Illyrians rarely occupy them. They tend to keep to themselves. Trying to make Illyrians get along with the Night Court was hard enough and it took his father a hundred years to create a somewhat peaceful alliance between them.

Rhysand was sure that the numbers of Illyrians who marry outside their own kind would be less than two hundred compared to their thousands, even nearly a hundred thousand of their kind. Most Illyrians prefer to marry from their own war camps or another’s. He had to applaud Illyrian’s obsessions with bloodline as the only thing that avoided them from inbreeding, but if this kept going on, he didn’t know how long it would last.

All in all, Illyrians who marry Xian faeries would be very easy to trace with little to no problem.

And that was what Rhysand would find out.

He nodded at her answer and Lin couldn’t tell if it was an “I believe you” nod or “Whatever, I’ll find out soon” nod and it terrified her.

“I—” she started. “I’ll try to find out more about Antoine,” Lin offered as a peacemaker between them and hoped that he wouldn’t snoop too far into her story.

Rhys’ careful gaze turned into an alerted one.

“It’s not safe,” he argued. “I won’t be there to help you.”

Amarantha had been making him run her errands around nearly the entire continent, trying to find out more about these... spies and enemies from Hybern she had been talking about. Yet every ends he’s chased came back empty and turned out to be baits. He had reported it all to the lunatic yet she only gave him more tails to chase and dead ends to seek.

Just like him, she kept her mask on. But Rhysand saw the slight tremble in her hands when she handed him another assignment to do and had to mask his triumph at the tyrant’s fear.

“Antoine is one of the weakest Autumn Court Lord, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t overpower you,” Rhys warned Lin as he sat up straight and crossed his legs, placing both of his shoes on the bed.

Lin clicked her tongue in annoyance at the sight.

“But we need more information about him,” she argued. “You said so yourself. He tends to be picky with his women—”

“Females,” Rhys corrected.

“Whatever—And if he went as far as to start sleeping with us, the lesser faes—” Lin’s lip curled up into a mocking sneer as she hissed the last words. “Then that means Milliona has something that he couldn’t get from any other faeries.”

Lin shrugged after her theory. “Or maybe he’s just into her.”

Rhysand highly doubted that, but if he did not want to offend the female in front of him.

“Try to get close to Mileona—”

”Milliona.”

“That’s what I said. And avoid Antoine the best you can,” he warned once more. He leaned his body to the front and stared deep into Lin’s brown eyes, making sure that she knew he was being fully serious about this.

“If he gets into a room, you get out of it. Make sure you’re never alone and you always have someone with you.”

Lin fervently nodded at his advice.

Rhys stood up and Lin quickly followed suit, not wanting to be intimidated even more by their size difference.

“If he ever comes at you like this—” he wrapped his arms around Lin, hugging her body tightly and Lin could feel herself take in a sharp breath as her nose touched his bare chest. “Then raise your knees and knee him in the crotch.”

“Try to nudge me gently like that,” Rhys encouraged. “Don’t knee me! But try to raise your knee to do it.”

Lin obediently followed his words and Rhys nodded in approval.

Rhysand held the young female by her shoulders and turned her around before pushing her body tight against his before wrapping his arms around her waist, but letting her arm hang free outside his hug.

“If he held you like this,” he started. “Turn around and use your elbow to hit him hard by his ears. When he’s distracted, use that moment to push him by the shoulders and make him release his hold on you and kick the back of his knees.”

Lin could only blink as she tried to grasp his teachings.

Rhysand noticed her confusion and quickly let go of his arms. “Here,” he offered as he stepped in front of her. The male held her wrists and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll try to show you.”

Her face was buried right on his back and he tried not to shiver when she breathed down the spot right between his hidden wings.

Rhysand twisted his upper body around to the right and bent his elbow before gently nudging the spot in front of her ear, where fat barely covered the head and a small hit would be fatal enough to make their ears ring. When Lin jumped from the sensation, the male lowered his elbow down to her neck and softly pushed her away until he broke free of her grasp. He quickly stepped behind the female and ended the demonstration by softly pushing the back of her knees with his boots.

The High Lord stared at his newly found friend’s face, which was still filled with confusion. But a glint of understanding began to light on her eyes.

The black-haired female turned her head to face him, curiosity and determination shining in her eyes.

“Can I try it?”

-----

Their small training went on until morning.

Rhys taught her more and more movements on what to do in every possible situation she might be trapped in. After each explanation, he made sure that she would demonstrate it to him with her full strength.

She was worried that she might hurt him, but the faerie laughed after the young woman voiced her concerns.

“You wouldn’t be able to kill me even if I was tied down and naked, sweetheart.” He boasted with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Lin was so nervous that Rhys would complain about how much of a slow learner she was and how many tries it took her to get it right, but he said nothing about it. The taller man merely fixed her moves and ask her to do it again until he finally nodded in approval.

“Remember to go for the neck, the eye, and their crotch.” He said while pointing at each part of her body that fitted with his description.

Well, except the last one.

“Don’t forget about nose and this one spot in front of the ear,” Rhys continued and tapped her nose before tapping the spot behind her cheek and in front of her ear, where sideburns would grow. “It’s not as fatal as the others, but it’d be good to distract them and catch them off guard.”

“It’s better to use a chopping gesture for the neck, but I doubt that you have enough strength to do that so use your palm instead.”

“And the most important thing is—” The faerie grabbed Lin by her shoulders once again and pushed his face close to hers until they were only an inch away. His violet eyes stare into her brown ones and Lin held her breath from their close proximity.

The young woman tried her best not to let her eyes dart downwards onto his lips and fisted her hands tightly, imprinting crescent marks into her palms. She knew the arrogant prick would never let her live it down if she did so.

“Never. Ever. Hesitate.”

With each word, he slightly shook her shoulder to make sure she was paying every single bit of attention to his final advice.

Lin gulped hard and nodded timidly.

Rhysand searched into her eyes and found it filled with both fear and determination at the same time. He nodded in approval before letting the female go.

“When it comes to these situations, the most important thing is to attack them when they least expect it.”

The faerie walked past Lin as he began to finally button up his shirt.

Couldn’t he have done that earlier? Lin scowled but did not dare to complain out loud.

“If you began to attack him but you hesitate, it’d be easier for him to read your next moves.”

Unprompted, the male faked a jab towards Lin’s face with his fist, making the woman flinch hard and back away unconsciously.

“That’s why it’s important for you to have the element of surprise on your side.” Rhys smugly finished.

Lin slowly opened her eyes and saw an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Her scowl grew even deeper and she raised her leg to kick him lightly on his shin.

But right when the tip of her shoes brushed against Rhys’ pants, the faerie jumped two steps backward and grabbed Lin by her shoulders before wrapping his arms around her neck and giving her a headlock.

He did all that within three seconds.

The young woman blinked and tried to process what had just happened.

His grip on her was calm, and his body was still as a stone. But Lin could feel his heart beating louder than the morning bells on her back and his heavy breath panting by her hair.

“Um..” she mumbled questionably. “I’m sorry?” She asked with a small shrug, unsure of what she should do at the moment.

If it wasn’t for the heavy breathing and loud thumping of his heart, Lin would have thought it was another part of her training. After all, he did not even break a drop of sweat during their little practice.

Without realizing it, Lin’s eyes darted down onto his right knee. Her eyes shone with concern.

Rhysand noticed the direction of her stare and loosened his grip, enough that the female broke free herself and turned around to apologize at him.

“I’m sorry,” she fumbled with her hands as her eyes darted back and forth between his right knee and his eyes in worry. “I didn’t know about it.”

The male opened his mouth, but she continued her distress before he could answer her.

“I won’t do it again! I promise!” She offered before she leaned down to stare into his right knee as if she could see through his pants and to the spot where it hurts. “Does it hurt? Are you alright?”

Her starry dark eyes flashed back into him as the female worded her last question and Rhysand saw it twinkled with uneasiness and distress of his well-being.

It has been a long time since he had someone stare at him like that.

His throat suddenly parched up.

Not trusting his own voice, Rhysand shook his head before clearing his throat.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “It’s just a sensitive spot, that’s all.”

He watched as Lin pursed her lips, but did not ask any further questions much to his relief.

You damned fool, he seethed inside. Rhysand was so smug of having the upper hand of his suspicions on Lin’s ancestry but now the male had to suffer from having the female know about his weakness due to his own stupidity and reflexes.

Before the High Lord could sulk any further, the morning bell rang to wake the servants up.

Lin’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

Eyes wide, she grabbed Rhys’ arm and began dragging him towards the door.

“Come on!” Lin rushed and pulled the bigger faerie with all her might. “We have to get you out of here before anybody sees you!” she frantically exclaimed.

If he wasn’t so busy scolding himself, Rhysand would have felt offended at the implications of her shame being seen with him.

Lin opened her door and stepped aside to push Rhys out of her room.

But the young woman froze in her track as she saw the view in front of her.

Rhys stepped aside and stood next to Lin to peek at what made the female freeze in fear like that.

He had to hold back a grin as he saw Lin’s effort go down the drain for naught with a group of female faeries standing before Lin with their eyes wide, staring right at him.