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misswynters · 2 months

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Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

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fr0stf4ll · 1 month

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Forge of Starlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; /

notes; heyy, I hope that all of you are doing fine ! Here is part 4, pretty calm chapter but I think that you will like it ;))) To be honest I'm already done writing the story, I might change some details because I'm still not really happy about some parts but the overall storyline is finished. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment or ask to be on the tag list ;)) I'm always super happy to see your feedbacks and comments on the story. See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 3 or part 5

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Wrapped in the warmth of a thick, fur-lined cape, you made your way through the vast and unforgiving landscape that led to the Winter Court. The journey had been long, the cold biting at your skin despite the layers of wool and leather beneath your armor. Your boots crunched through the snow with every step, the sound a constant reminder of the icy terrain you traversed. The fur trim of your cape brushed against your face, shielding you from the harsh winds that howled through the mountains.

Your outfit was designed for both warmth and practicality—leather pants tucked into sturdy boots, a long-sleeved woolen tunic layered under a thick, high-collared vest, and over it all, the heavy cape that provided not just warmth, but protection from the elements. The fur-lined hood of the cape was pulled low over your brow, keeping the icy wind from nipping at your face. Gloves made of soft, supple leather protected your hands, though your fingers itched for the familiar feel of your weapons.

The landscape around you was breathtakingly beautiful, despite its harshness. The snow-covered mountains rose like jagged teeth against the clear, cold sky, their peaks piercing the heavens. The ground beneath your feet was a blanket of pristine white, unmarked by any sign of life save for the occasional tracks of a snow hare or a fox. The air was crisp and clean, filling your lungs with a chill that was both invigorating and biting.

As you neared the Winter Court, the terrain began to change subtly. The trees, tall and ancient, were dusted with snow, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, as you approached the heart of Kallias’s domain. The palace, when it came into view, was a marvel of ice and stone, a structure that seemed to rise organically from the frozen earth itself. Its spires glistened in the weak sunlight, the walls shimmering as if carved from a single massive block of ice. It was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a testament to the power of the High Lord who ruled within.

As you entered the grand hall, the cold air seemed to intensify, but you were prepared for it. Your breath misted before you as you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ice-encrusted walls. The interior of the palace was no less magnificent than its exterior—glittering chandeliers of ice hung from the ceiling, casting a cool, ethereal light across the room. The floors were a mosaic of frosted tiles, and the walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the history and power of the Winter Court.

Kallias awaited you at the far end of the hall, his tall, imposing figure clad in robes of pure white, trimmed with silver. His eyes, as cold and sharp as the winter wind, met yours as you approached, and he offered a nod of acknowledgment.

"Y/N," he greeted, his voice as icy as his surroundings. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

You inclined your head in respect. "It was, High Lord. The Winter Court is as beautiful as ever."

Kallias’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It is. And I am eager to see the weapon you have forged for me."

With a practiced motion, you unclasped the leather strap that secured the long, narrow case at your side. Carefully, you lifted the lid, revealing the weapon within—a glaive, forged from the finest steel, its blade gleaming with an icy blue sheen that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was intricately designed, resembling the ancient, snow-laden trees of the Winter Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length. At the base of the hilt, a crystal embedded in the pommel caught the light, glittering like freshly fallen snow.

Kallias’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took in the sight of the weapon. He stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The glaive fit perfectly in his hand, its weight balanced, its craftsmanship flawless. He swung it once, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp, crisp sound that resonated through the hall.

"It’s exquisite," Kallias said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N."

You bowed your head slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m glad it meets your expectations, High Lord. It was an honor to craft something for the Winter Court."

Kallias’s gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment longer before he turned his icy eyes back to you. "It more than meets my expectations. It surpasses them. You have a gift, Y/N, and I’m fortunate to have been able to commission such a weapon from you."

There was a moment of silence as Kallias continued to study the glaive, the air between you filled with the mutual respect of two artisans—one of ice, one of steel. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

"You must be tired from your journey," Kallias said, his tone shifting to something more cordial. "Please, stay as my guest. You are welcome in the Winter Court as long as you wish."

You inclined your head again, appreciating the offer. "Thank you, High Lord. I may take you up on that, but I must return to the Night Court soon. There are other matters that require my attention."

Kallias nodded in understanding. "Of course. But for now, rest. My stewards will see to your needs."

With that, he handed the glaive back to you, and you secured it once more in its case. As you followed the steward who had been summoned to lead you to your quarters, you couldn’t help but marvel at the power and grace of the Winter Court—its beauty, its cold, unyielding strength. The journey had been long, but the successful delivery of such a finely crafted weapon made it all worthwhile.

As you were led to your quarters, you wondered what the days ahead would bring, knowing that whatever challenges lay before you, you were more than prepared to face them.

After a much-needed rest in the luxurious quarters provided by Kallias, you found yourself summoned to dinner with the High Lord and his wife, Viviane. The invitation was delivered with the same formality and grace that characterized the Winter Court, and you dressed accordingly, choosing an outfit that was both practical for the cold and respectful of the occasion. You opted for a tailored, high-collared tunic in deep blue, paired with fitted leather pants and sturdy boots designed for both warmth and movement. Over the tunic, you wore a vest of finely stitched leather, its dark hue matching the rich blue of your tunic, and lined with fur for added warmth. A thick, fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders, adding the final touch of protection against the biting cold.

The dining hall itself was as magnificent as the rest of the palace, with walls of ice that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. A grand table made of polished, dark wood stood at the center, set with fine crystal and silverware that sparkled under the light. Kallias and Viviane were already seated when you arrived, their regal presence filling the room with an aura of quiet power.

Viviane greeted you with a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling with kindness. “Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Please, sit. I hope the accommodations were to your liking?”

You returned her smile, inclining your head respectfully as you took the seat offered to you. “Thank you, Lady Viviane. The accommodations were perfect—your hospitality is most generous.”

Kallias nodded in agreement, his expression calm and composed. “We are glad to hear that. You’ve traveled far, and your work has been extraordinary. You deserve the best.”

As the first course was served—a delicate soup made with winter vegetables and fragrant herbs—you found yourself relaxing into the atmosphere. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, combined with the rich scents of the food, created a sense of comfort that was almost surprising in the cold grandeur of the palace.

As the meal progressed, Kallias leaned back slightly, regarding you with an inquisitive gaze. “Tell me, Y/N,” he began, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “are you finally settling down? It’s not often we hear of someone as skilled as you staying in one place for long.”

You smiled softly, nodding as you set down your spoon. “Yes, I’ve returned to my roots. I’ve settled back in the Night Court, where I grew up. It feels right to be back home, even after all the years of traveling.”

Kallias’s eyes sharpened with interest, though he remained composed. “The Night Court, you say? And how has that been? Is it… a unique place, from what I’ve heard.”

You nodded again, careful with your words. “It’s been a good experience, returning to the Night Court. It has its own charm, and I’ve found a certain peace there that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Viviane, ever the gracious hostess, leaned forward slightly, her gaze warm. “It must be wonderful to return to your roots after so long. I can imagine it offers a sense of stability, something to hold onto.”

“It does,” you agreed. “After years of traveling and crafting for different courts, it’s good to have a place to call home again.”

Kallias seemed to consider this for a moment before his expression shifted slightly, a more contemplative look in his eyes. “Y/N, do you see yourself as a blacksmith for the rest of your life?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’ve dedicated most of my life to the craft. It’s something I’m deeply passionate about. But… I’ve also wondered if there’s more I could do, especially now that I’m settled in one place.”

Kallias nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind. “With your skills and the relationships you’ve built across the courts, have you ever considered becoming an emissary? You already have a good rapport with most of the High Lords, and your experience is invaluable.”

You blinked in surprise, the idea not one you had expected to hear. “An emissary?” you repeated, trying to imagine the shift from blacksmith to diplomat. “It’s not something I’ve considered before… but I suppose it could be an interesting path.”

Kallias was about to continue when he seemed to catch himself, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, that’s a matter for Rhysand to consider. While our relations with the Night Court are… decent, I’m not one to aid in growing another court’s power.”

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. “I understand, High Lord. And I appreciate the suggestion, though. It’s something I’ll have to think about.”

Viviane reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He’s always thinking three steps ahead, even during a simple dinner.”

Kallias chuckled softly, inclining his head. “Indeed, but it’s worth considering. Your talents shouldn’t be confined to one craft alone, no matter how extraordinary it may be.”

The conversation continued in a more relaxed manner as the evening wore on, the three of you discussing everything from the beauty of the Winter Court to tales of your travels. Despite the formality of the setting, there was an ease to the dinner that you hadn’t anticipated—a warmth that contrasted pleasantly with the cold elegance of the palace.

As the dinner came to an end, you felt a sense of satisfaction not just from the meal, but from the knowledge that you were appreciated here in the Winter Court. The suggestion of becoming an emissary lingered in your mind, a seed planted by Kallias that you knew would take root in the days to come.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, grateful for the hospitality of the Winter Court and the new possibilities that lay ahead.

Later that evening, after the dinner with Kallias and Viviane, you found yourself back in the comfort of your room. The luxurious quarters were warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as you settled into a plush chair by the window. The view outside was breathtaking—a serene expanse of snow-covered mountains under a clear, starlit sky. The quiet beauty of the Winter Court seemed almost surreal after the intense conversations of the day.

As you stared out at the snow-draped landscape, your thoughts began to drift back to the events that had transpired before your journey here—specifically, the night with Cassian. The memory of his broken wings and the dark curse that had infested his body sent a shiver down your spine. You had dealt with injuries before, but nothing quite like that. The sight of Cassian in such a vulnerable state, combined with the pressure of having to save him, had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Cassian was doing now. Madja was a skilled healer, but the curse had been something different—something darker and more insidious. You hoped that your efforts, combined with Madja’s expertise, would be enough to see him fully recovered.

But your thoughts didn’t linger on Cassian for long. Instead, they wandered to Azriel—his overprotective reaction when you mentioned your journey to the Winter Court. You had been taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice had tightened with worry when he insisted that you couldn’t go alone. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the composed, stoic Azriel you had come to know.

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had draped his jacket over your shoulders before flying you home. The warmth of the leather, combined with his proximity, had stirred something in you—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. Azriel was undeniably attractive, with his dark, brooding looks and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you. But more than that, he was one of the most skilled warriors in Prythian, a member of the Inner Circle, and someone who carried a weight of responsibility that few could comprehend.

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and frustration. Azriel was everything you weren’t—an elite warrior, trusted confidant of the High Lord, and part of a circle that wielded immense power and influence. What were you, in comparison? A blacksmith, skilled in your craft, but still just someone who worked with metal and fire. You had traveled far and gained respect across the courts, but it was hard to shake the feeling that Azriel was somehow out of your league.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, though. Every time you thought of him—his calm presence, his quiet strength—it sent your heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But you reminded yourself that someone like Azriel wouldn’t be interested in you, not in that way. He was dedicated to his duties, and you… you were just a blacksmith.

Still, the memory of his protective concern lingered, the way his eyes had softened slightly when he insisted on flying you home. It was a gesture that spoke of something deeper, something that made your heart ache with longing.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was foolish to dwell on such things. Azriel was a friend, and that was enough. There was no sense in imagining something that could never be.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help the small, wistful smile that tugged at your lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Azriel’s concern than simple duty. Perhaps there was a connection there, one that went beyond the roles you both played.

With a sigh, you stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of snow and stars. The Winter Court was beautiful, but your mind was already drifting back to Velaris, to the Night Court, and to the people who had become an unexpected but welcome part of your life.

And as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held—for you and perhaps most of all, for Azriel.

——

Back in Velaris, the shop was quieter than usual. Without the rhythmic clang of metal on metal or the hum of the forge, the space felt almost too still, the usual lively energy dampened by your absence. But that didn’t stop Alex from doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He was darting between customers, expertly answering questions and showcasing various weapons with the kind of enthusiasm that belied his young age. Stellan, your faithful direwolf, was sprawled out near the counter, watching the activity with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering patience.

A particularly persistent client had been lingering in the shop for the better part of an hour, his eyes darting around as if expecting to spot you at any moment. He was a tall, lanky man with a nervous energy, and he had been pestering Alex incessantly.

“Are you sure she’s not here?” the man asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone edging on desperation. “I need to speak with Y/N directly.”

Alex, who had been maintaining his polite demeanor with admirable restraint, forced a smile that was beginning to strain at the edges. “As I’ve already mentioned, sir, Y/N is currently away on business. She won’t be back until next week.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as if Alex were trying to trick him. “But I really need to speak with her. Can’t you just call her? Or maybe she’s in the back?”

Alex’s forced smile twitched, and he muttered under his breath, “On the name of the goddamn Mother, I’m going to hit him.” He forced his voice back to a more polite tone as he said, “I’ve already checked, sir. She’s definitely not in the back. And no, I can’t call her—she’s in the Winter Court. They don’t exactly have a postal service for emergencies.”

The client frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “But this is important! Can’t you at least take a message?”

“Sir,” Alex said, his voice straining to maintain its politeness, “I’ve taken five messages from you already. I promise I’ll give them all to Y/N when she returns. But for now, there’s really nothing more I can do.”

The man didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to argue again, but Alex had reached his limit. He could feel his frustration bubbling up, and he was just about ready to scream when the shop door swung open with a loud creak.

In walked Cassian and Azriel, both of them cutting imposing figures as they strode into the shop. Cassian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, and Azriel’s intense gaze swept over the scene, quickly taking in the situation.

The persistent client froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two warriors. Cassian’s expression was one of barely concealed amusement, while Azriel’s was much cooler, a silent but clear warning to the man that he was pushing his luck.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked, his voice light but with an edge that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

The client swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Azriel’s presence. “N-No, no problem at all,” he stammered, his previous determination evaporating. “I was just… uh… I’ll come back later.”

With that, the man all but bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the shop was suddenly filled with silence, save for the faint crackling of the forge in the background.

Alex let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned against the counter, wiping a hand across his brow. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered.

Cassian chuckled, walking over to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You handled that well, kid. He was lucky he didn’t push you any further—looked like you were about to go feral.”

Alex grinned up at him, his earlier frustration melting away. “I was close, really close. But thanks for the help! Can I interest either of you in a fine sword? Or perhaps a dagger? We’ve got some new arrivals that are really top-notch.”

Azriel, who had been leaning casually against the counter, let out a soft chuckle. “Not today, Alex. We’re not here to shop.”

Cassian, still grinning, shook his head. “Yeah, as tempting as it is, we’re actually here to see if Y/N’s back yet. We wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

Alex’s face brightened at the mention of your name. “Oh! No, she’s not back yet. She should be here by tomorrow, though. I haven’t heard anything from her, but she always keeps her word.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good to hear. We’ve been worried about her, especially after everything that happened before she left.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of recent events, but he remained quiet, his gaze drifting around the shop as if lost in thought.

Alex, ever the perceptive one, caught the shift in Azriel’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “But hey, if you want, I can show you some of the stuff she’s been working on! I know she’s got some special orders that are almost ready. You might even find something you like.”

Cassian laughed, clearly charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Maybe another time, Alex. We’ll just wait for her to get back. But thanks for the offer.”

Alex nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn’t make a sale but still pleased that the two warriors had stopped by. “No problem! I’ll let her know you were here as soon as she gets back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Cassian said, giving the boy another affectionate ruffle of his hair before turning to leave. Azriel followed, but not before giving Alex a small, almost imperceptible nod of appreciation.

As they walked out the door, Alex watched them go, a satisfied grin on his face. Stellan, who had been observing the entire exchange with his usual calm, gave a soft huff as if to say, “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Alex glanced down at the wolf, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I know, boy. It’s never boring around here, is it?”

Stellan’s only response was to close his eyes and settle back down, clearly content now that the shop had returned to its usual, slightly chaotic but always interesting, routine.

As Cassian and Azriel stepped out of your shop and into the bustling streets of Velaris, the evening air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the scents of the city—freshly baked bread, the distant aroma of spiced meats, and the crisp tang of the Sidra River. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the cobblestone streets and the elegantly curved buildings.

Cassian glanced over at Azriel, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, you didn’t have to scare the poor guy so much back there. He practically ran out of the shop.”

Azriel shrugged, his expression unreadable as usual, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He was being persistent. Alexander was close to losing his patience.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “True, true. That kid’s got more fire in him than most people twice his age. But I have to admit, it was fun watching you in action. You’ve always had a knack for that brooding intimidation.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make sure the shop was running smoothly while Y/N is away.”

Cassian’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of Y/N… you’ve been pretty protective of her lately, haven’t you?”

Azriel’s step faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, keeping his gaze focused ahead. “She’s been through a lot. We all have. I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying this line of questioning. “Come on, Az. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been watching out for her. And don’t think Rhys didn’t told me the way you reacted when she mentioned going to the Winter Court alone.”

Azriel’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s my job to protect the people in this court, Cassian. You know that.”

“Sure, sure,” Cassian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But this feels a little more personal, don’t you think? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Azriel remained silent, his gaze focused straight ahead as they continued walking. The streets of Velaris were alive with activity—couples strolling hand in hand, children playing, vendors calling out their wares—but the conversation between the two warriors seemed to create a bubble of quiet tension around them. Cassian, always one to lighten the mood, decided to press a little further.

“You know, Az,” Cassian started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “it’s not like that little kiss she gave me means you’re out of the running.”

Azriel shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a kiss, Cassian. She was removing a curse. You know that.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Hey, I’m just saying—if you’re worried about competition, don’t be. That ‘kiss’ doesn’t mean you’ve lost your chance.”

Azriel shook his head, resuming his walk. "It's not about that. Y/N deserves someone... better.”

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, catching up to Azriel with a few quick strides. "Oh, here we go. The 'I'm not good enough' spiel. Az, you’re one of the most honorable males I know. You're brave, loyal, and let's not forget, you have that brooding mysterious thing going on that females seem to love."

Azriel shot him a skeptical look. "Being 'brooding and mysterious' isn't exactly a selling point."

"Maybe not for you," Cassian quipped, "but trust me, it's working. Besides, Y/N isn't the type to be swayed by titles or power. She values character, integrity, and someone who sees her for who she truly is."

Azriel sighed, his gaze distant. "Even so, with everything in my past, the things I've done... I don't want to burden her with that."

Cassian placed a firm hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Listen to me. We all have our demons, our shadows. Y/N included. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness. You can't keep punishing yourself forever.”

"She is… different. She’s strong, independent. She’s been through so much, yet she doesn’t let it define her. I admire that.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She is all of those things. And she’s got a good heart. But, Az, you know it’s okay to feel something more. You don’t have to keep everything locked away.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might brush off the conversation entirely. But then he sighed, a sound that was barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s not that simple, Cass. She’s… well, she’s remarkable. But she’s also tied to things I don’t fully understand. And after everything… I’m not sure it’s right to complicate things further.”

Cassian looked at him, his expression serious for once. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let things happen. If there’s something there, you’ll figure it out. And if there’s not, well, at least you won’t have any regrets.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, but Cassian could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, Azriel murmured, “I don’t want to be a distraction for her. She’s got enough to deal with, especially after what happened.”

Cassian grinned, though there was a note of understanding in his voice. “You’re not a distraction, Az. If anything, you’re probably one of the few people who can help her with whatever she’s dealing with. And, just so you know, she’s not out of your league, no matter what you think.”

Azriel remained silent, the internal battle evident in his eyes. The bustling sounds of Velaris seemed to fade as the two friends stood in the midst of the crowd, locked in a moment of understanding.

After a beat, Cassian grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. "And besides, if you don't make a move, I might just have to swoop in. You know, for the sake of not letting such a wonderful female go unappreciated."

Azriel snorted, a rare genuine laugh escaping his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Cassian winked, clapping Azriel on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we head to Rita's and grab a drink? Maybe by the time Y/N returns, you'll have mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel."

Azriel smirked, his shadows swirling playfully around him. "Only if you're buying."

"Deal," Cassian replied, leading the way with a swagger in his step. "But remember, the next round's on you, especially if it gives you the liquid courage you clearly need."

As they made their way towards the river, laughter and camaraderie enveloped them. Yet, beneath the teasing and banter, the seeds of self-reflection had been sown in Azriel's heart, leaving him to ponder the possibilities that awaited with your impending return.

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