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Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part eleven

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x Reader | WC: 5k | warnings: none? I don’t think?

Summary: after being brought to the Autumn Court, you’re forced to put all your trust into Eris and his plans.

Author’s note: surprise shawty 🫶🏻 happy @erisweekofficial

Previous part | Masterlist

You sat on the plush bed, fisting the red duvet, knuckles turning white. Eris’s revelation had thrown you off balance, figuratively and literally, falling directly onto his bed. You were in Autumn. In the Forest House. Keir tried to kill you specifically.

None of it made any sense. Something kept scratching at the back of your mind, some small voice begging you to look, to see what was right there.

Why, why, why?

“Why did you bring me here? Why not the cabin?” It was all you could focus on. You could get answers from Eris - maybe. He brought you here for some reason. Your heart was still beating fast, a rhythm pulsing through your fingers, begging your feet to run, to get somewhere familiar.

“Keir made an act of war against Autumn by attacking one of its High Lord’s heirs.” His gaze kept shifting away from you, unable to look at you for too long before looking away, angling his body away from you. “I have to inform my father, prepare our armies for battle.”

War. Had Keir really declared war? Over what - some power play with Rhysand? But why had he attacked you and Eris? None of it made any sense.

Your gut churned at the idea of a battle - hundreds of thousands of injured fae, decimated armies and communities, the pain creeping in slowly as you healed each of them. Once the injuries began piling up, it became harder to ignore the manifestation of their pain in your body, how your magic was telling you exactly what they were feeling.

You swallowed down bile, resting your head between your knees. Eris paced in front of you, the straight line of his boots too dizzying for you to watch. Instead you focused on the oak flooring, finding a knot in the wood to watch.

“Why are we here?” He hadn’t given you an answer to that question. Why here when he and Azriel had a secret cabin out in the woods? If Keir wanted you both dead, wouldn’t it be safer to be hiding?

Clover laid behind you on the bed, offering support to your back. She was a beautiful creature, ethereal to the point of uncanniness. She fit right in with Eris.

Eris sighed, clearly annoyed at having to explain himself once more. “I could not take you to the cabin in case Keir moved on Autumn and I was not here. I have to find my father and tell him immediately.” His voice was steady and slightly stern, but the rhythm was slightly soothing, your rapid breathing slowing with each word. “I could not leave you there for the gargoyles to destroy.”

The nausea stopped at his words as if your body found something, some truth to perch on. Eris had saved you. Eris had saved you, even when your death would have benefited him.

“You saved me.” Eris was turned away from you, but you felt his eye roll without seeing it. You finally lifted yourself up, delighting in the hands on his hips giving away his exasperation.

“I did not save you. You sound like a child with a fairytale. I brought you here to continue the ruse, it would look ridiculous to Rhysand if your so-called mate had abandoned you.”

You stopped listening to him, your gaze moving around the room, wanting to learn all about Eris in a way only his dwelling could tell you. The furniture was centered around a large, dark fireplace, the brickwork perfectly lined up, the work of an incredibly skilled craftsman.

A desk sat close to the fireplace, some burnt pages collecting at the edge of the roaring fire. The desk was neat and tidy, some plain parchment and inkwells sat on top next to a pile of unopened letters. Nothing seemed especially connected to him, save for the blankets on the ground for the hounds, but it somehow pulsed with Eris’s energy, practically bouncing around your chest.

The room mirrored Azriel’s in a way - mostly barren, very few secrets could be told by the room itself. Despite its hollow appearance, both rooms were charming in their own way.

You caught one secret in your perusal, one that made your mouth stretch into a wide grin. You stood from the bed, Eris too preoccupied with the wall to turn around and stop you. Clover stood with you, stretching her long body before jumping off the bed, her paws clacking against the floor.

“You kept my flower.” The one you had given him a few weeks ago in the cabin. It laid in the crook of his vanity, where the wood met the mirror. Tucked away, nearly out of sight unless you were looking for it.

You peered over the desk at it, the dried petals now a pale brown color. They were brittle but sturdy and you briefly wondered if he had used his own heat to cure them faster. The thought made your lip wobble.

Through the mirror you watched Eris turn, swearing softly as he made eye contact with you through the reflection. He shifted on his feet, leaving your gaze.

“You are being held in a court you have never been in in an act of intercourt politics and you are concerned with a flower?”

“Of course not. It’s not just any flower. It’s the one I gave you.”

“For Mother’s sake.” The words fell from his lips with such exasperation, making himself sound much older than his five hundred years.

“You like me, Eris.” The grin was nearly splitting your face in half, pure amusement making you feel almost giddy, momentarily forgetting the events of the past hour that led you here. “You care about me and my safety.”

Eris stayed silent as you reached down and pet Clover’s head, nails lightly scratching down her back. Her tail wagged harder and she unceremoniously plopped herself onto the floor before rolling onto her back, exposing her belly for you.

You crouched down, scratching lightly at her exposed skin. Her legs kicked in excitement as you scratched a particularly nice spot, her paws close to hitting the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making your dog love me.”

“Well, stop it.” Both of you ignored him, Clover’s tongue panting as you continued scratching her belly.

“Has Azriel met your dogs?” The question slipped out, unable to see so much of Eris and not wonder how much Azriel had been privy to. If Eris heard the slight jealousy in your voice, he didn’t let on.

“No, I never let him close enough to Autumn’s borders.”

The slight pride in your chest was quickly dimmed by the reminder that your mate was in a different court and you were stuck here with his mate. Your scratching lessened in pace as your thoughts drifted to Azriel, wondering how he was doing. Surely Keir wouldn’t kill him, right? Could Keir kill him?

Your head panged in pain, a dull throbbing behind your eye that made you squint despite the dim lighting.

Eris stood behind you and you felt his gaze on your back but you made no effort to move. Clover was now panting, her tongue falling from her mouth.

You heard him shuffle, finally turning to find him reaching for the door. As if he could feel your gaze on him, he stopped right in front of the dark wood before turning.

“You have to stay here.” His eyes had darkened with the words, some unknown darkness lurking in their depths.

“Why?”

The male practically stopped processing as you looked at him. You could only watch as he took a long deep breath, his hands curling into fists before relaxing them, a motion he did over and over again.

“I know Azriel is damn near suicidal half the time, but I thought you were better than that. If you leave these chambers, if anyone catches you here, they will use it to earn social favor with my father.”

Your petting had stopped, your fingers tangling in Clover's mane. Annoyed, she huffed before rolling over and trotting next to Eris before sitting next to him, her head just below his flexing hand.

“And there is no telling what he would do to you.”

Eris placed his hand on her head, her nearness comforting him in some way, the tension melting from his shoulders with each stroke.

“You should be fine here - I’ve done an adequate job scaring off the servants from my chambers for the past century. No one should come in or out of this door.” He watched you with raised shoulders, an argument in his eyes, expecting some form of fight you wouldn’t put up.

“How long will you be?” His body visibly relaxed at the question before he blew out a breath, petting Clover one last time before walking towards the door.

“Truthfully, I have no idea. It will depend on how my father wants to proceed from here, but the moment I can slip out to see you, I will.”

“Eris?”

He turned back again, his hand on the knob, ready to leave, but still waiting to hear you out.

“Do you think Azriel’s okay?” Despite the distance, you felt brief flickers of warring emotions in your chest, moving like a trapped animal.

“No, I don’t think so.” Eris said it so matter of factly as if the bond between them were also mental, as if he knew with certainty how Azriel was. “Azriel’s probably trying to murder Keir and crumble anything in his path here. He has two mating bonds, one incredibly new, and his mates were in danger.” He didn’t look at you, looked past you towards the window, his hand squeezing the knob to hold him steady. Warm air spread in the room, stifling the large space. “He is likely barely holding it together.”

Eris swallowed, his throat bobbing with unsaid words. You could see it in his stance, how his eyes stayed on the window. It was so clear just how badly he wanted Azriel here.

You didn’t know what to say, what words could soothe the ache in his chest at his mate’s distance. You opened your mouth, hoping the words would find you as you went.

“Eris-“ you moved forward, reaching out toward him until Eris’s door flew open, the wood nearly hitting Eris with the force of whoever was on the other side, keeping him from hearing whatever you were going to say. Eris quickly evaded the door and moved you behind him, his arm keeping you in place.

A male appeared in the doorway - slightly shorter than Eris but much stockier, the male’s wicked smile was practically copied from Eris’s own face and attached to this one. Deep brown hair that turned red in the light, long locks flowed to his hips.

His expression changed when he caught sight of you, Eris’s arm not large enough to block you from his predatory gaze. Something shifted, a glint in his eyes as his nose twitched.

“How sweet - you brought a treat from your travels.” He smiled, his canines poking out and resting on his bottom lip. Almost as wide as the door, he was built to cause destruction and chaos.

The door slammed shut, some wisp of magic closing it from intruders.

“Step back, Hollis.”

Hollis’s head tilted slightly, a small tick he couldn’t help, the urge to listen there but not strong. He made a show of smelling the air, delighting in whatever he caught.

“This is much more fun than the prostitute Oak brought to the Autumn festival a few decades ago.”

Eris growled, the sound vibrating through your bones as you only peered over his bicep, watching a male looking so much like Eris having such a carefree look on his face.

Hollis’s eyes traveled over you, a deep brown making him look puppyish and curious. You could have sworn his gaze stopped on your necklace, his shoulders tensing at the sight, but his rigidity was gone quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

“And who is this delightful creature?” He held out a hand expectantly, waiting to receive yours. Just like Eris, his fingers were adorned with rings, but these were silver, not Eris’s usual gold.

“Don’t tell him your name,” Eris barked, keeping his gaze on his brother, looking at the outstretched hand dangling in the air. Hollis flexed his fingers at his brother’s attention, his thumb running across one of his rings, some insignia carved into a flat silver surface.

“And what pray tell could I do with that information?”

“I’d rather not find out.”

Brown eyes found yours, his head slightly tilting toward you, wanting to share a secret. He looked so boyish and light, bouncing on his feet, delighting in catching his brother in such a predicament.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You don’t mention that Eris just called him by his name. Your silence does nothing to deter him, only spurring him on further. You moved out from behind Eris a half step, both males tracking the movement.

“Hollis. Second oldest. A chance for them to make a son better than Eris.” He leaned in closer, despite Eris’s warning, his hair coming loose and grazing over your arm. “I think they succeeded.”

Eris scowled, his furrowed eyebrows shooting a sharp pang in your chest. Your fingers almost reached out, desperate to smooth out the skin, but you refrained.

Azriel’s journals had never mentioned Eris’s brothers aside from occasional mentions of Lucien. It was easy to forget that there were five other males in this family, two of them deceased.

Had Azriel met any of them? Surely he must have at High Lord meetings or intercourt affairs. You wonder briefly if they were never written about out of no contact or no memorable interaction.

Would Azriel trust him?

No - Azriel wouldn’t trust anyone.

“How did you get in here?”

Hollis moved and sat on the chair next to the bed, eating some sort of dried fruit in an unabashedly sinful way.

“Should have checked your sitting room before bringing in outsiders.”

He plucked the fruit into his mouth, making a show of taking a juicy bite, dark red juice falling from his lips and fingers before holding his hand toward you.

“Care to taste?”

Eris slapped the fruit from his hand, bits of sugar falling to the floor, lightly dusting the dark oak. Hollis pouted at his older brother, his lip jutting out as he looked up at him.

“You’re no fun.”

“I never have been. Why expect something different now?” That one question clung to you, summing up Eris in a few short words.

Why expect something different now?

A pang shot through your heart at the thought. What even was this plan? For you to uproot your life, live in a different court, leave behind your patients, for a male who was already mated? A male you would see fleetingly and have to share his affection with another?

The distance from Azriel, both physical and the distance of the bond, made you feel so foolish. It was so rash and now you were here, in a den of lions, trusting one lion to save you from the others.

Eris rubbed his chest absently, his jaw tightening as he looked at his brother. He moved quickly, turning to face you again, too caught up in your thoughts to notice his proximity until he cupped your jaw in his hands. His heat radiated onto your skin, breaking the blank stare you had, your eyes gravitating towards his. He held your gaze delicately, something in his gaze tender and scared.

Your first time so close to his face, you find something so endearing about the small freckles littering his nose. A cocoa brown that makes you think of a warm drink on a cold winter night.

One of his pinkies grazes down to your necklace, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your neck. The metal of your necklace heats with his touch, a warmth that says I’m here. Notice me. Feel me.

“Stay here. Stay safe. Hollis will take care of you. I’ll be back.” He gritted the name out, his own distaste impossible to swallow down. It sounded more like an oath than a promise, a weight for him to carry until he saw it through.

A sigh escaped you, your breath mingling with his for one short moment that seemed to stretch on. He didn’t blink, keeping his eyes focused on yours, as if his rapt attention could convey his promise.

His skin was so pale, red bloomed on the apples of his cheeks from your attention.

His voice was a balm against all your worries, even settling the rattling in your chest from Azriel’s side of the bond.

“I never agreed to that.” The moment passed as easily as it came, that all too familiar feeling of someone intruding on an intimate moment dousing you with cold water. You pulled lightly from Eris’s grasp, taking a small step backward. Eris’s jaw locked as he whirled on his brother, fire in his gaze his brother did not back down from.

“You will stay here and ensure no one is privy to her presence.” Hollis didn’t flinch, the only movement was his eyes as he looked at both of you, analyzing both your forms.

“And where is so important for you to be to leave something of such value in my hands?”

“I have to find father.”

“Father’s not here.” Shock imprinted on Eris’s face before he smoothed his face back into something more neutral. Hollis noticed, grinning like a cat about to catch a mouse.

“And where is he?”

“Off in Sutherland.”

“When will he return?”

Hollis took a moment to clean his mouth, reveling in Eris’s growing irritation at being the last to know.

“He didn’t leave an itinerary behind.” Heat radiated from Eris, his agitation growing with each volley in this conversation leading nowhere.

“Why didn’t you find it relevant to inform me earlier of this?”

His brother shrugged, his expression uncaring again, but his eyes danced with mirth. He slumped back into the seat he was occupying when the two of you walked in, trying to seem bored.

“Didn’t seem relevant.”

Eris pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to avoid his brother’s amused gaze. Eris turned back to you looking just as determined as before, albeit his voice was more terse.

“New plan. Stay here, I’ll collect supplies from the kitchens. If my father is still absent when I return, I’ll take you away.” His not mentioning the cabin by name was enough to know not even a meddling brother knew about it.

“I’ll send someone to find you later.” Your heart fluttered at the mention of someone, knowing exactly who he meant, the lingering feeling of unease coming through the bond lightening momentarily.

It felt strange to watch him go, to be in such a foreign place with your only ally (if you could consider him that). To see this physical manifestation of Eris, someone who could pass for him from a distance sprawled out in his bedroom.

“It seems we have the whole place to ourselves. Care to join me in Eris’s bed?” You only stared in silent confusion, your blank face not enough of a deterrent as Hollis spoke again.

“His settee instead?”

That earned a scoff from you, your first acknowledgment of the male other than abject curiosity. He leaned closer, elbows resting on his knees, chin sitting on his hand. Without Eris here, his gaze was much more piercing, scrutinizing in an uncomfortable way. He didn’t shy away as you looked at him, content to keep his gaze on you.

The room was silent, his heavy gaze enough to overstimulate all of your senses, until eventually he leaned back, spreading his legs wide and slumping into the chair.

“Pity. I’ve always wanted to take a lover in here.” He looked longingly towards the window, as if this were some lifelong dilemma of his.

“If you’ve been in his sitting room all day, why not just bring some fae in while he was gone?” He didn’t turn to acknowledge you, only sighing wistfully as he gazed out the window.

“I don’t want just any fae.”

“Picky about your lovers?”

“No one has ever accused me of such a thing.” A beat passed and then he was speaking again, trying a bit too hard to sound nonchalant. “Eris is accused of it, though.”

You straightened, practically jumping at his words, falling for his bait. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by him - his eyes still looked out the window, but his grin widened.

“Surely that’s his own business.”

“Perhaps,” he half-sung, looking back at you, “but here, in Autumn, having any intimate knowledge on any of the Vanserras is worth a pretty penny. Knowledge on Eris is almost worth just as much as information on our father. Depending on the year, sometimes more.”

But not their mother, it would seem.

“My elder brother is exceptionally private. Always has been. Drives me mad half the time.”

“In a court such as this one, knowledge is power. I would also elect to maintain some privacy.” He watched you in a way that was so like Eris - calculated and all consuming, but it lacked the edge that Eris’s gaze had. The fire, the spark. Almost like he was gazing at nothing.

“He has never brought anyone home before. So what’s so special about you?”

The tips of your fingers tingled, trying to make a mold of Eris’s arm to remember how it felt wrapped in the sheets of the cabin, trying over and over again to press remembered pain into him.

The pain that lingered in the scars littering his back had made its way to your fingertips. The confusing blend of localized heat one you hadn’t been able to shake since touching him for the first time.

The thought was fleeting - an urge to show him the new ability. You curled your fingers into a fist instead, shaking your head lightly.

“If you think you are special or that Eris has made some vow of protection, you are better off scampering off to your home court and finding a male to wed and occupy your time with.” His words would have stung a past version of yourself, but your proximity to Nesta and Eris had made any bite in his words leave very little impression upon you.

As a healer, you were used to seeing people at the worst moments of their lives. Seeing their loved ones learn the worst news imaginable.

Words lost their sting a long time ago. Only Azriel’s recent dismissal of you had any bearing on your psyche.

“Is this how you flirt with all the females your brothers bring home?”

“Only the ones worth something to my brothers.”

“And how much do you think I’m worth?” His canines glinted in the light, a predator finding its mark. You cringed inwardly, upset to have shown your hand so quickly.

“I will only warn you once.” Hollis straightened, his voice void of all joviality. The air in the room had been sucked out, anticipating his next words, as if the house had never seen such a serious side to the male, waiting with bated breath for his next move.

“I had someone. They were never mine, but I cared deeply for them. I sent them away. It was better for them.” He paused, exhaling a shaky breath, unable to meet your eye. His throat caught on the words, on the display of vulnerability, cracking with whatever memory he was digging up. “Within a month of sending them away, they died in a house fire.”

A house fire. In Autumn. Where half the court is likely fire retardant. Where rivers and streams and channels venture through the landscape, a bambling brook never too far.

Beron had done that. You knew about Lucien’s lover, the lesser fae he dared to love. You never considered there could be others - other fae in Beron’s proximity he deemed less than or unworthy, failing to meet his atmospheric expectations.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You being here is enough for me to know you already have a death sentence.” You blinked, not knowing how else to respond. Eris had assured you you would be safe in his absence - was that a lie?

“I tried to be different from Lucien and I still lost. You cannot win here. But if you’re lucky, maybe the fate you will meet won’t be so cruel.”

A fleeting touch was all it took, your hand on his shoulder, your palm meeting where his neck was exposed. It was enough to feel the same pain you felt when you touched Eris. The scars that had healed but still ached, a slow recovery full of reopening and rehashing the wound.

The door opened and closed quickly, Eris’s scent filling the room again. You pulled your hand from Hollis, jerking a little too hard. Eris checked you over, eyes raking up and down your form, assessing you for any injuries.

“Were you behaved?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Hollis answered first.

“No,” Hollis answered, a smirk lifting his mouth but not his eyes, “just how she likes me.”

As Eris rolled his eyes, you noticed the basket in his arms, woven of tree bark and green moss. A few mushrooms bloomed on the corners, a faint earthy smell coming from it.

“Think about it, yeah?” Hollis’s question pulled you from the basket, looking to find the smirk gone for half a second before reappearing.

“Think about what?” Eris snapped, looking at you for an answer.

“Giving her time to think about preferred positions. I want a full itemized plan, Er. I don’t go in blind.”

Eris shook his head, not catching Hollis winking in your direction as he stood up. He made a full show of it, stretching his arms above his head, his joints creaking from the effort.

“Your chairs are stiff. You need to get new ones.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“Gladly.” Hollis pushed past Eris, his older brother not moving as he jammed his shoulder into his. “Enjoy your new toy.”

Eris snarled at the door as it closed behind his brother, tightening his fist, ready to brawl with someone who wasn’t there anymore.

“What did he say to you?”

“He kept flirting with me is all.”

“And nothing more?”

You shook your head, not sure what to tell Eris of his brother’s tale.

“Are you ready?” Eris held his arm out, his suit still pristine despite the events of the day. The ball was only hours ago, but here in Autumn it felt like you were living a different life.

The cabin, so familiar and warm, feels like a dream. It called to you like a beacon, a lighthouse blinding you with its light in an effort to bring you closer.

You took his arm, happy to be one step closer to Azriel and fixing this whole mess. The world warped, the air folding in on itself until Eris’s dark room was replaced with the dark of the cabin.

Inside, the cabin was the same as it had been before. The taste of iron coated your throat, each swallow making it stronger. The scent transported you into your mate’s pain, a phantom trace of it coiling in your gut and in your back. Exhaustion beckoned at you before shaking it off, knowing it was just a memory.

Something pricked in your chest, a reminder that Azriel was alive. It infuriated him to no end that he had no suspects for the ambush you had healed him from, but with how things ended in the Hewn City, you had an inkling of who was behind it.

Your thoughts had lazily swam back to Keir, circling the topic any moment of quiet allowed for contemplation. Something had tickled the back of your throat, mimicking some form caught in your windpipe. Some answer, some truth was lodged in your throat, wanting to come free.

Maybe you just weren’t ready to face it.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, both of you realizing you weren’t alone. Eris moved his body in front of yours, your sight blocked by his wide shoulders.

The steps slowed, savoring each anticipatory breath from the two of you. A flame roared to life in Eris’s palm, ready to throw at the first sign of trouble.

You had never seen him before, but knew exactly who he was. Eris looked just like Beron, save for the beard and brown and gray hues in his hair. A streak of silver flowed through Beron’s hair, not quite making him seem old and frail as it would in other males. Instead it gave him an air of authority and wisdom that made you want to bow to him.

“You’re supposed to be in Sutherland.”

Beron looked at his son in distaste, as if assessing a criminal of the worst kind.

“That is no way to greet your High Lord.” The chastisement hit worse than a slap across the face, but Eris didn’t move. “As the eldest son, you are supposed to be useful. It seems we are both disappointed.”

A hundred questions laid on Eris’s tongue, each one giving too much knowledge away. For the first time, you watched as he was rendered speechless, frozen in place.

How does he know about the cabin?

Something tugged in your chest, a question from all the anxiety swirling in your gut, someone wanting to know what was happening courts away.

Beron sniffed the air, assessing something you couldn’t be sure of. His face contorted, a smug expression taking over his cruel features.

“And now I have something Rhysand can’t keep himself away from.”

“Pray tell what that is father.”

Beron didn’t look at Eris, keeping his eyes fixed on you. An amused glint in them, that same predator like gaze Hollis fixed you with.

“Both of the shadowsinger’s mates.”

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part ten

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x Reader | WC: 3.6k | warnings: Azriel’s sad boohoo

Summary: Azriel’s left behind in the Night Court, his two mates vanishing at the end of the gala. No one else feels the urgency he does to find both of them, to ensure they’re unharmed and safe.

Author’s note: hehe an Az pov 🫶🏻 didn’t think I’d ever write one of those

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Azriel was losing his ever loving mind.

His brothers were both sitting in Rhysand’s office, discussing the events that just unfolded, too preoccupied with Keir to talk about the parts of this disaster Azriel cared about most. The shadowsinger wanted to carve out Keir’s skin, test the limits of his healing for the male to truly experience the depths of pain Azriel was so familiar with.

But his thoughts kept moving quickly between needing revenge and needing answers, meanwhile his brothers just lounged casually, acting as if they were discussing a recent sporting event.

“He can’t just take her, Rhysand.” Without me went unsaid. It was impossible for Azriel to take a full breath since his mates had disappeared. His chest felt like it was shredding itself from within and every limb ached with uncertainty.

Where were you?

Azriel didn’t have time to talk with Rhys, needing to go to the cabin. Surely Eris dropped you off at the cabin, maybe even lingered and let you assess any wounds he had been dealt.

His stomach churned at the idea either of you had been injured in his presence. He had been able to sneak glances your way, no sign of blood or bruising from his vantage point, but the gargoyles may have caused him to miss something.

Where was Eris?

Azriel’s face hardened, slipping into his role as spymaster, digging at every detail.

Eris knew the plan inside and out. He had spent hours ensuring they both knew every step the other would take, and yet, his mate had forged his own path for the night the moment he asked you to dance.

Why would Eris take you?

The question had been plaguing him since he saw a pile of gargoyles overtake the spot the two of you had been occupying. He couldn’t consider the gargoyles had finished the two of you off. He clutched the strained bonds he felt in his chest, holding them tight in reassurance.

“We’re getting there, Azriel. Keir is more of a priority.” Rhysand fell into that High Lord voice, the tone that was bordering hypnotic that worked so well on Cassian but never quite had the same effect on Azriel. It grated his sloped ears, prickling at his skin like a bad feeling.

“Is he really more of a priority?”

“Yes. If Keir is behaving like this in public, we need to shut it down. We need his darkbringers on our side, and if Keir is moving on us, we have to prepare the Illyrians.”

Wrong. The whisper came from one of his shadows, gently caressing his ear while Rhysand spoke. Azriel looked to Cassian, hoping for some form of aid from his other brother, but Cassian kept his eyes on Rhysand, trained on their youngest brother.

“Eris took one of our own, someone in our family. If this were Feyre, you’d be on the warpath.” The shadowsinger had to get through to them, whatever means necessary. Rhysand’s eyes darkened as he leaned back in his chair, assessing Azriel. Azriel felt the familiar talon drag access his mind, his brother hoping for entry. He swatted it away, unsure he had the fortitude to keep Rhys from finding out anything he didn’t want him to know.

“If you’ll recall, Feyre spent months away from us in the Spring Court being held by Tamlin. This situation isn’t much different. She knew what she was signing up for.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold, but he used every ounce of self-restraint to stay still. He fisted and unfisted his hand at his side. Images flashed in his mind - lunging at Rhysand, toppling him out of his chair, busting his jaw for speaking like his mate like that.

He couldn’t blow this. You had kept his secret for months now and he couldn’t have it all unravel now because of his brother’s stupid tongue.

“I know you feel guilty that she’s gone, but we’ll get her back.” They were both looking at him, but it was Cassian who spoke, his voice softer than Rhys’s, much less accusatory. His brother looked concerned, his long hair curling up at the edges, the exertion from the confrontation nowhere to be seen save for the sweat dried to his brow. He had a slight bruise on his left cheek, one of the gargoyles no doubt.

Azriel stayed still, keeping his breath even. Adrenaline swam through his veins, the confrontation in Hewn City ending too swiftly, leaving much to be desired for his blood lust. He had tracked the moment his mates disappeared, a strong tug in his chest urging his eyes in that direction. He had caught the side of Eris’s head as he turned back to you, grabbing your hand, and disappearing into the night air.

Azriel had felt the pulse of magic from his siphon as blue light blinded him, a gargoyle lunging for him before some of his shadows quickly formed a net, sparing him from injury or death. He had turned quickly, using his sword to smash the gargoyle to pieces, only to watch the rest crumble around him.

Dust had floated through the air, coughing to keep it from his lungs. The dance floor had been buried beneath a thick layer of rubble.

Azriel’s first instinct would have been to check for anyone injured in the fight, but he stared longingly instead at the spot his mates had last been at. His first thought had been that the two of you hadn’t disappeared into the air, but instead became buried beneath the stone. His shadows had been quick to correct him, whispering softly not here, not here.

His relief had been short-lived, quickly replaced with panic and anger, both of which he had directed at Keir. With the gargoyles gone, he had flown across the space, one flap of his great wings enough to shoot him across the cavern into Keir. His boots had hit Keir’s chest first, knocking the male to the ground.

Azriel didn’t hear the crunch of Keir’s head, his blonde hair quickly matting with blood. He only growled at the male, holding scarred hands tight against his throat. Keir was choking, squirming beneath Azriel’s anger, unable to push the Illyrian off.

At some point the shadowsinger had begun snarling and growling, turning into a rabid animal as he tried to squeeze the life from Hewn City’s leader.

Cassian had pulled him away, pried his fingers off of Keir’s throat. He had been saying something to Azriel, but a buzzing overtook his ears, allowing him to fixate his anger all on Keir. Cassian looked down at Azriel, barely holding him place, Keir’s wheezing and sputtering going ignored by both of them.

“What are you doing?” Cassian had shouted at him, pushing Azriel down when he tried to stand back up, a few of his shadows there to soften his fall.

“He tried to kill us, Cassian.” Azriel didn’t think he’d ever have to defend violence against Keir to Cassian of all fae. Azriel’s shadows nipped and hissed at Cassian, angry he stopped their master from seeking vengeance on behalf of his mates. Cassian lifted his feet with each nip, shaking his leg trying to rid himself of the darkness, but they clung to him. They had found holes in his leathers and began nipping and pinching at the exposed flesh to show their irritation.

“Call them off,” Cassian yelped, trying to hide his pain, his feet stomping down on the tendrils, the shadows able to dart away with each slow step.

“No.”

“No?” The general asked incredulously, his foot raised midstomp.

“Why should I?” Azriel growled, chest heaving, desperate for oxygen. He had to leave, had to go, there wasn’t enough air in this mountain. There wasn’t enough air when his mates were missing and he was left behind, left in the dark, a new basement to hold him captive in.

His wings fluttered at the memory of being pinned behind his back, how painful stretching them even an inch had been. No one had taught him how crucial it was to stretch his wings, to spread them out when he slept.

They spread out now, shadows spilling out of the nooks and crannies they had been tucked into. One flap of his wings brought him back onto his feet, lunging for Keir once more, pinning him beneath his body with ease.

The male had been inches from Azriel’s sword when a smooth voice floated through his mind.

Stop.

Azriel’s nostrils flared at the command, his sword slowly moving toward Keir’s neck, the blade close enough to make a small slice with his deep breath. Blood bubbled onto the blade, a few drops joining together, sliding toward the hilt.

Azriel, I told you to stop.

Azriel kept his eyes on Keir, wanting nothing more than to tear the male limb from limb for attacking his mates. His weight was bearing down on the male, the blonde squirming beneath him to get out. Keir’s mouth was full of blood, his teeth making him look carnivorous as he smiled.

“Lose something, shadowsinger?”

Azrkel pressed down to behead the male, but some invisible force kept his blade where it was. He pushed and pushed, grunting with the force, but it would not move. The spymaster ground his teeth as he shifted his focus to his High Lord, his anger on full display.

Rhysand’s violet eyes were stern as he looked down at the shadowsinger, but something odd lingered in their depths. He crossed his arms across his chest, trying and failing to look nonchalant.

“I will deal with him.”

And now they stood in Rhysand’s office. Azriel had no idea where Rhysand had taken Keir, a fact not unnoticed by him and that continued to fuel his anger. They are wasting so much time now. Were you or Eris hurt? Did Keir have outside help? Where had Eris taken you?

Azriel choked down his urgency, keeping it in his gut to be well-equipped for any scenario. He hadn’t restocked the cabin’s medical supplies, too busy passing the time with his mates and his own duties with Rhysand.

Foolish.

His mate had used everything available to save his life, every spare shred of gauze, even scraps of linen had been used to quelch the bleeding. And he hadn’t the time nor forethought to extend the same courtesy.

One of his shadows hit him in the head, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into the self-doubt that had been shrouding him for months. The fear that lingered constantly, a spiral of inadequacies that led to the disappointment of both his mates.

He knew he could have handled things better. Knew he should have handled things better.

But when had he ever handled anything correctly?

Another shadow tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him back into his brother’s violet eyes, shifting the blame from himself to his High Lord.

“We better get her back.” He gritted out, his jaw hardly opening with how hard he was grinding his teeth.

The both of them, he wanted to say. We better get them both back.

-

After an eternity of Cassian’s fidgeting and Rhys’s obfuscating, Azriel left the study, cutting his brother off mid sentence. He wouldn’t stand there wasting precious time any longer, listening as Rhysand danced around the subject, never committing to a plan.

He flew to the House of Wind, the breeze not helping his mood. There was a current from the north that exerted his wings to counteract it, the air trying to sweep him in a different direction.

He landed on the balcony to his room, not taking any chances at getting stopped. He had to gather supplies, weapons, anything that could-

A knock at the door made him pause before continuing his list, running to his washroom for supplies. He didn’t have time to bother with Cassian’s ridiculous whining, listening to his brother attempt to get Azriel to see Rhysand’s reasoning.

The knock on his door persisted, louder now. Azriel was shoving gauze into a bag before he called out, “I’m not speaking with you, Cassian.”

The door opened and a curse fell from Azriel’s lips, ready to throw his brother from the balcony until a familiar scent of cinnamon and citrus hit his nose. He turned to find Mor standing in his doorway, her usual smile gone, replaced with a more serious look.

“We need to talk.” Azriel ignored her, crouching down to the floor instead of looking at her. He didn’t have the patience to listen to her complain about her father, not when he could only think about one thing.

“Not now.” He slid a bulky bag out from beneath his bed, unrolling the black fabric slowly to avoid jostling the blades inside. His eyes roamed over the dozen or so blades, all varying sizes and different hilt adornments. His eyes paused on one blade before quickly moving on, the bright amber jewel too close to his mate’s eye coloring for him to not get emotional.

Eris had given him the blade several years ago, a gift after the shadowsinger had opened up about his brothers. The abuse he endured at their hands, how he still watched them from time to time, lurking in the shadows of their houses to keep them on edge. Never doing anything more than lurking or moving things, just to make them feel haunted.

For so long Azriel had felt like a ghost, a secret existence that no one spoke of or saw. Time passed outside and with his body, but so long, he felt stuck, forced to walk the world as that little boy. Haunted by memories of fae who never think of him.

Most importantly on that night, he confided in Eris about how conflicted he felt every day that they lived. “I’m not sure what I would do face to face with them again,” were his exact words. Eris had stayed quiet, listening to his tale while they sat in a quiet grove. It was their spot, a quiet patch of land in Dawn close to the border with the Middle.

It’s where, almost a year to the day of that conversation, their cabin would be built. Eris had acquired the land from the previous owner after Azriel had combed through the male’s entire life. He was a simple farmer, no ties to anyone save an aunt who visits him on occasion.

The day the only home they could share was finished, a solid place for them to stay built by their own hands and magic, a box had been placed in the middle of the empty space.

“It’s one of mine. They even matched the hilt to my eyes.” Azriel had noticed it immediately, the familiar color a perfect match to his mate’s eyes that made him feel like he was home. “I want you to have a piece of me there if you ever get around to killing your brothers.”

Azriel shook off the memory before rolling the bag back up, securing the ties on it before lifting it over his shoulder, tucking the bag in the space between his wings.

“Azriel, it’s important. Can you stop whatever you’re doing?”

“No.”

Mor huffed, stamping her foot lightly on his floor, but Azriel didn’t turn. He was too busy checking off the list in his head, wanting to get everything he could possibly need for any situation.

You were a damn good healer, but Azriel had to be prepared for the possibility that you were injured or even worse. He started for the washroom again, remembering some pain potions beneath his sink.

“I’ve known for a long time, Azriel.”

Mor’s voice was quiet, the painful truth lacing every word. Azriel stopped walking, his body going rigid just long enough for Mor to know she had him.

What she implied wasn’t possible. He kept his face neutral, not giving anything away. He wanted to know where along the way she found out, his damned curiosity almost getting the better of him, but that would confirm the truth and he couldn’t do that, not now when neither of you were safe.

“I hated you for a long, long time.”

Azriel had noticed her distance for some time, thinking she had just become aware of how sickening his obsession had been, keeping her distance instead of confronting him, thinking him too delicate to handle the rejection.

It wasn’t her rejection he wouldn’t be able to handle.

“But now I know it’s real and I don’t know what’s going on, but Az, something’s off.”

He didn’t have time for this. He had to find both of his mates, had to claw his way to the other end of the strings in his chest. He didn’t say anything, only pushed past Mor, trying to get to the door. It shut before he reached it, her long fingers spread out, gold clattering on the wood as she held it closed.

“Azriel.” Mor’s voice was stern, all lightness he usually associated with her long gone.

At one time, Azriel’s devotion to the blonde was real. His obsession with her was maddening and embarrassing in hindsight, but all consuming in the moment. He had been so convinced they were meant to be together, that all she had to do was see it, see him, and they would be happy. He would be happy.

She would fix him.

It was never fair to either of them the expectations he placed on her, the throne he set her on. Moments of anger flashed through his thoughts on sleepless nights, the gut churning pain when she didn’t live up to the impossible standards he set for her.

Mor always shriveled at his less than savory side. Hiding into herself at any mention of his profession, how he delighted in the spilled blood, an atonement for his own personal failings.

It was his own form of penance. One nobody understood.

Except for Eris.

Eris never shied away from bloodshed or violence, always the first of the two to be ready for a fight. By the Mother how he and Eris have torn into each other over the years.

They both carried so much anger, so much rage at their situation. Who they were, who they were stuck being.

The truth he had never wanted to admit was how stuck Azriel had been. His entire life had been decision after decision made for him. Born an Illyrian, he was forced into the camps. Born a bastard, he was hidden, kept in a dark room of shame and secrets.

The bond snapping with Eris was the first time he felt unstuck, like his life was his own. Every day he woke wondering if today would be different. If he could leave his forged family behind, where he felt nothing but stifled and pitied for so long.

But now there was you.

Caught between two worlds: who he is and who he could be. When his mateship with Eris began, he had given up on all thoughts of his ability to become pure again. There was no perfect female at the end of his heart to make him whole, no one who would love him without question and without trial.

You were so unlike either himself or Eris. You were a healer, a medic. Someone nowhere near the front lines, but just as important if not moreso. You were not in charge of strategizing or planning attacks, but rather on the opposite end of the violence, tending to wounds after the damage had been done.

You had not shied away from Eris’s flames when the gargoyles attacked nor had you shied away from Azriel’s return after long, grueling nights spent with the worst fae he could find that night.

“Azriel. You and I both know Keir can’t stand up to Rhysand like that.” Mor’s voice barely pulled him from the territorial thoughts of you he was falling into.

“You think the gargoyles were someone else’s doing?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, those were all him. He’s always been able to manipulate stone. But to bring them to life…” she trailed off, not sure where she was going with it. “I just- it doesn’t add up. I don’t think he’s powerful enough for that.”

Azriel didn’t have time for this. For all he knew, you could be bleeding out in the cabin alone. Or you and Eris could both be bleeding out. Together, unable to help each other.

He had to get to you.

“Mor, I think your father’s opportunistic. I think he saw an opportunity to try to make Rhys look weak in front of another court.”

“I’m serious, Azriel.”

“What are you suggesting, Mor?”

She wrung her fingers, the rings twisting back and forth in a way that would have left Azriel hypnotized a century ago.

“I don’t know, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Mor, a member of our court, one of close friends, has been taken Cauldron knows where. I don’t have time to indulge your conspiracies about your father.”

Mor flinched, taking a step back at his harsh words. In another time, that action would have derailed him for over a year, the memory on loop reminding him how much of a monster he was.

Now it just fueled him on to find another male Mor thought was a monster and hope that both of his mates were safe.

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part 9

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x Reader | WC: 5.8k | warnings: um attack gargoyles, fighting, cunty Eris

Summary: Eris is onboard with the plan you and Azriel have crafted to make everyone think you and Eris are mated. A show stopping dance in the Hewn City is all the two of you need to make a grand spectacle.

Author’s note: I couldn’t wait another week to post this I was too excited 😩 hopefully this was worth the wait!!

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After the two of you had formed your plan, Azriel had returned a few hours later, Eris’s scent blanketed over him. His face was flushed, the tops of his collar just not enough to cover a developing bruise and what looked like a scratch. His lips were pink with excitement, hair slightly disheveled. His lopsided grin made you want to laugh.

“Eris was all for the plan. Minor tweaks,” Azriel had said, over and over again. “I believe his exact words were ‘if the Night Court cunts think I’m foolish enough to fall for any females they present to me, it can only work in my favor’.”

You laughed, able to hear the remark in Eris’s crisp and clear intonation, his sense of superiority coming through.

“Az, what happened with Nesta?”

His smile shrunk a bit, never fully going away, before he looked at you, assessing how much you knew from the oldest Archeron.

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.” You wouldn’t give him an inch, wouldn’t allow for any excuse to keep the truth from you. You had made it clear to him that you were in, but only as long as he could let you in. He blew out a breath before reaching up to tug at his hair, pushing back dark curls, delaying the truth.

“Rhys thought he could offer Nesta to him. He thought that Eris was so power hungry he’d lap at the chance to have such a powerful female at this side.” Azriel’s face darkened, the planes and grooves of his face marked now with anger and something akin to territorialism. “Eris played along. He acted the part they expected perfectly until Cassian interfered. He shut it all down.”

“Rhys really will do anything to have control over Eris,” you said quietly, the realization darkening your view on Rhysand. To use your own family as pawns in your game, to offer them on a platter to a fae you believe to be so terrible…

Azriel nodded, closing his eyes in resignation. His throat bobbed, the strain of the memory agitating him.

“You have no idea.”

The pieces began clicking into place. If it had gone through, if Cassian hadn’t intervened, Azriel’s world would have imploded. He’d either never see Eris again or Nesta would have discovered their mating bond. What would have happened? Would Azriel be the chess piece beneath Rhys’s fingers? Or would the shadowsinger have left his family behind in its entirety?

“It’s late - you should sleep.” Azriel softened at the way your jaw flexed, regret lingering in his eyes for how harsh his tone had been. Softening a bit, he cusped the back of your neck, placing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We can go to the Rainbow.”

It wasn’t until you were laying in bed, Azriel’s scent still lingering in the room, when you realized the cold bite of jealousy at his appearance never came.

—

The next few days went by in no discernible order- you never confirmed to Rhys you would go through it, Azriel doing so on your behalf. If you thought too much about it, it made your stomach churn with anger and that was the last thing you needed now. Azriel relayed messages between you two, acting as a mediator.

You had gone shopping with Nesta, the only female in the Inner Circle who wasn’t acting as if they were preparing for your funeral. She helped you pick out a lovely gown - a rich, black bodice that slowly melted in reds at the ends of the skirt, the folds in the fabric full of shadow. The bodice had intricate red beading sewn into it, and the skirt fell perfectly around your legs.

Dark and beautiful, the red details were only visible in the light. From Azriel’s stories of the Hewn City, a city in a mountain, shrouded in darkness, you were sure the dress would glow with movement.

Now you stood in your room, clasping the necklace you had chosen from Feyre’s collection around your neck. Why the Night Court, so fond of blues and black and violets, would hold onto such a bright stone was beyond you. The necklace fit perfectly around your neck, flush against your skin, but not constricting. You felt it with every breath, resting perfectly snug, able to kill you at any moment.

It had been fourteen nights since your agreement with Nesta. You hadn’t forged a bond, hadn’t made any kind of magical agreement. But magic was crackling in the air around you, nearly whispering go, go, go. You had convinced her your secret was being mated to Eris, a lie so far from the truth you couldn’t believe she bought it.

Then again, the actual truth had left your head spinning for days, unable to make sense of it all.

Were you really going to do this? Abandon your medical practice, the life you had built from scratch in Velaris for what? To be a cover for Eris and Azriel?

You blew out a breath, disturbing the still air around you. You knew why you were doing this.

Azriel’s the first thing to truly be mine.

Eris’s words made your throat tighten, some deep guilt over the competitiveness that overtook you when it came to him.

And now that’s not even true.

Why you would go to such great lengths for a male who barely tolerated you, you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You were a fool for this, to agree with this. What happens when no one can scent the mating bond between you and Eris? What happens when, Mother forbid, someone tries to harm you and Eris doesn’t display that territorialism mates do?

What happens when Azriel’s all alone, surrounded by his family in love, knowing both of his mates live separate lives from him?

The first thing to truly be mine.

You couldn’t help the stab to your heart as you thought of Eris. Not even this sham engagement will be his - some half baked scheme concocted by Rhysand to get a hold over the Vanserra.

Eris was practical and pragmatic. Surely he always knew a marriage would be more for show than for love. But shouldn’t he have gotten the opportunity to pick his fraud wife?

A lone shadow drifted below the door, twirling up and under your skirts, playing with every layer of fabric it could. A knock was quick to follow, Azriel’s large body sliding inside your door after a come in from you.

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking in the dark fabric, no doubt thinking of Eris with the minor pops of red. You took the moment to look over him - usual leathers traded out for an embroidered tunic, the blue thread in beautiful fleur de lieus contrasting with the black background. The siphons on his hands now placed into bracelets to resemble more of a gemstone setting than his usual gauntlets. His curls were styled perfectly, swept just enough off his face to see his eyes, but draped over his forehead just enough to add to his mystique.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks. You look nice as well.” Nice was beyond an understatement, but you bit your tongue.

“Are you ready?” He asked the question with such sincerity it took you by surprise, as if you could just drop out of this ridiculous plan and everything would be fine.

Maybe he’d make it fine.

You obfuscate his sincerity instead, chuckling before asking, “do you know how you’re going to make this up to me?”

“I could spend a hundred years groveling and you still wouldn’t have deserved everything that’s happened.” He held your chin with his thumb, tilting your face up at him. All his face held was more sincerity, his hazel eyes full of warmth and openness that was so unlike the mask he wore the sight nearly made you dizzy.

“That might be true, but I think you would look exceptionally pretty on your knees.” His wings fluttered at the compliment, practically preening at your words. The tips of his ears grew pink, causing your heart to flutter at the boyish sight.

“In the next few weeks, we can iron out all the details.” He looked over you, his scrutinizing gaze checking every piece of your costume before stepping behind you. His fingers were delicate as he fixed your corset, the stays not nearly as neat by your own hand. You barely felt him as he tightened and straightened the ribbon, scarred hands taking extra care for everything to be just right.

“But tonight, when we get back, I don’t see why the two of us can’t enjoy the evening between ourselves.” His voice became husky, dropping into a deeper tone by the end of his sentence as his breath caressed the shell of your ear. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at his tone.

“What of Eris?”

He took your chin between his fingers again, this time a bit firmer, moving your face in the light, ensuring you to be the perfect doll for the evening ahead. His eyes scanned every inch, assessing the tiniest details for error. A spymaster’s work is never finished. Satisfied, he nodded, not letting go as he held your face, tilting up at him.

“Let me prioritize you for once.”

Your breath hitched at how close he was, the briefest glance at his lips enough for you. If you pushed forward even a little bit, your lips would be on his plump ones. So many questions ran through your mind, each of them easily answerable.

Are they as warm as Eris’s? Would he be delicate? Or would he be rough and controlling, dominating the kiss?

No matter how curious you were, you couldn’t let yourself step forward. You weren’t sure he could prioritize you, no matter how he spoke. You pushed back an inch, but it was enough for the spell to break and Azriel to straighten. He only nodded before holding out an elbow for you to take.

“My mate awaits us.”

-

The Hewn City was dark and dreary, stagnant air making it even more stifling. Large gargoyle esque statues lined the courtyard, ominous beings that were amalgamations of several ferocious things. They reminded you of the painting Feyre had once done of Rhysand’s beast form - unsettling and haunting, intended to leave you uncomfortable.

A chill ran down your spine, feeling their marble eyes follow you. You clutched Azriel’s arm, a slight breeze from his wing covering your back protectively.

You took a steadying breath, your confidence in this plan faltering for a split second. Could you handle the pitying stares and comments from your friends? How they’ll whisper behind closed doors about how terrible a fate you had been dealt? How Azriel will have to listen as they tie yours and Eris’s names together for eternity, his own omitted?

But then your mind drifted to the cabin. You weren’t sure where it was, not sure what court it resided in. But its warmth flooded you, the faint scent of Azriel and Eris mingling perfectly, clinging to the furniture in an attempt to leave parts of themselves in such a safe place.

You searched the crowd, no sign of the redhead yet. Your hand clenched tighter to Azriel’s arm, needing even an ounce of his stoicism to get you through the night. Azriel had been your chosen escort - Rhysand agreed that Azriel would be the perfect candidate, that Eris would gladly move in on what he thought was Azriel’s, their feud fuel for the possessiveness Eris’s mating bond should be feeling.

Oh the irony.

Your chest fluttered at the light caress of the bond. You didn’t look at him, but lightly squeezed his arm, holding tight to the luxury fabric draped on his forearm. Azriel usually wore his leathers to such events, acting the role of guard dog. His role was different tonight, one Azriel wasn’t used to: bait.

The time to dwell on it came and went as you felt the moment Azriel spotted Eris, your chest warming with his affection for the male. You found him in the crowd, his amber eyes already on the pair of you. His mouth contorted into a grimace, but through Azriel’s side of the bond, you felt even more affection.

“Calm down or else everyone’s going to smell you.”

You studied him carefully, trying to crack that facade he wore here, but not sure if your joke would be taken well. His hazel eyes glared back at you, a silent reprimand at attempting to bring joy into this hellscape. Keir stood across the room, glaring at the two of you at the top of the steps. Azriel followed your line of sight, staying perfectly still as he met the male’s eye. The slight warmth that had come back to him at your teasing is gone, replaced with an icy rage.

“He’s a prick.”

Azriel’s obsession with Mor was a farce; the perfect misdirection for his nosey family. His romantic inclinations were performative, but he held real care and affection for the striking blonde. His face was full of hatred as he looked over Mor’s father. Long blonde hair, lighter than Mor’s, more ethereal, cascaded down his back. His brown eyes stayed on the two of you, arms crossed over an elaborate jacket as he stood in the far corner.

Fixated on Keir, out of the corner of your eye you catch the flash of red climbing the steps, Eris’s back straight as he stopped short of Rhysand’s throne. He bowed before standing at his full height, giving you the chance to look him over. A lush red jacket covered his shoulders, the color deep with hints of purple bleeding into the garment. Reflective gold threads made for beautiful work on his lapels and cuffs, the occasional light making it almost blinding.

Eris was the best dressed male in any room and this lifeless place was no exception.

He cut a glance at you and Azriel, his lip twitching in a sneer you could feel was fake, before turning back to Rhysand. He stood proud before the High Lord, his nose turned up slightly, somehow looking down on Rhysand despite being several feet below him.

“Rhysand, Feyre, a pleasure.” From the corner of your eye you caught Cassian balling his hand into a fist, the siphon on his chest glowing brighter for a second. You desperately wished to look over at Azriel, to see the mask he wore in all its glory as he observed Eris. This night would be better suited for a masquerade ball, exchanging out the icy masks for ornate, decorative facades.

“Eris, how delightful you could make time in your busy schedule to join us.” He stressed the word busy, a snippet of some conversation between Azriel and Rhys coming to the forefront of your mind. You had only caught a few words as you passed the study, but Rhysand seemed exceptionally annoyed about Eris’s schedule. Now you wish you had caught more of the conversation, at the time too worried about Azriel catching you listening in.

Eris looked to the ceiling, searching the cavern for where the darkness ended, acting as if he didn’t know it began and ended with the male at your side. He grinned, a look that should have been polite but was more cutting as he narrowed his focus on the High Lord.

“And here I thought only trolls from the storybooks for younglings dwelled in caves. Pardon me for being so forward, Rhysand, but if this is truly the heart of the Night Court, perhaps receiving guests would be unwise.”

You resisted the urge to laugh, forcing your muscles to stay impassive and bored. You felt Azriel stiffen, urging the bond in your chest to tell you exactly how he felt about it. Rhysand picked at an invisible lint on his jacket, flicking nothing into the air, avoiding Eris’s eye.

“Surely something here can catch your eye.” Rhysand winked, leaning back in his chair, lounging casually. The match was set and you could only hope Rhys believed himself to be winning. He raised his glass, toasting the air, a signal for the orchestra to begin.

“What kind of party is silent?” Rhys asked no one in particular before finishing his goblet of wine. The violins came from the bottom of the stairs, a fast song starting to kick off the celebrations. From your vantage point, the orchestra was impossible to spot. What must have been dozens of instruments and players completely hidden from view, filling the cavern with their melodies. The musicians used the enclosed space to their advantage, using the echoes to produce counter melodies that folded into the song seamlessly.

Eris left Rhysand’s audience, making his way over to you and Azriel. You tried to hide the shock from your face, confused at how quickly things were kicking off. Azriel had discussed with you waiting several songs before Eris stepped in, the three of you making a slight scene on the floor as Eris intruded on your dancing.

Eris didn’t say anything as he extended a hand out, the bands of his rings catching the fae light. Azriel tightened his grip on you, exaggerating his movement to be seen better, but the pressure was becoming painful, feeling too real for this scene.

Eris ignored Azriel and bowed, a customary greeting for a dance. You reciprocated before pulling your arm from Azriel’s, leaving the shadowsinger’s side to slip your hand into Eris’s outstretched one. Azriel growled lowly, baring teeth at the Vanserra.

For someone used to the shadows, he was putting on quite a show.

Eris’s palm was warm, his fingers enveloping yours as he led the two of you to the dance floor, his stride never breaking in spite of the hundreds of eyes on the pair of you.

Thunder crackled in the sky above the two of you, somewhere above the mountain you all were trapped inside. You were sure the lightning was bright in the sky, lighting up the Night Court.

Eris bowed before you while you curtsied to him, so low you almost lost your balance. His hand made its way to your waist, his other gently guiding your hand into the air.

Up close he carried the familiar scent of smoke that clung to him, the scent more intoxicating when it had been mixed in his sheets. You hadn’t seen the male since the two of you had sex. Not a trace of awkwardness could be found from either of you, but rather an air of casualness colored this odd performance, easing your anxieties.

Eris took the first step, leading you into the first dance. He moved you across the dance floor with ease, his long legs carrying you in every direction you needed to go. It was nothing short of a miracle you hadn’t tripped on your dress, the steps to the dances buried deep in the recesses of your youth. Despite the occasional awkward movement, you kept up fairly well.

“Funny. When they offered Nesta, this was her chance to showcase her skill and power.” He spun you, a half second you unsuccessfully spent trying to find Azriel’s eyes. Your cheeks warmed at his observation and your forgetfulness to even practice a waltz before this evening.

“Is my dancing inferior?”

“Yes.” You blinked at his bluntness, not faltering in your steps as he guided you across the floor, his head raised in pride. Your eyes found Azriel’s from across the floor, his shadows writhing around his body in agitation.

“Nesta is a grace on the dance floor. Reportedly they spent weeks preparing her for this.”

What he wasn’t saying was enough to know how stuck the two of you were here. They thought they knew of a mating bond and surely Eris couldn’t let his mate go when presented with her.

The double standard was so clear to you. Elain was allowed to keep Lucien at an arm’s length, break the bond, do whatever she wanted. No one forced her into anything with him. Lucien was a nobody to them, a dog they knew would do anything they asked.

But Eris was complicated. Not an ally, nothing close to it. The only relationship they had with him was by mutual disgust over Beron. What would happen if Eris was successful in killing Beron? Would they have helped someone who would turn out worse?

It was a risk they couldn’t take, they needed him in their back pocket.

And Azriel was the risk you and Eris couldn’t take.

The two of you moved across the floor, two pieces in a multi-dimensional chess match, unknowing who was winning or who even was moving the pieces.

“Azriel and I spoke the other night.” His words were matter of fact, unknowing of the train of thought you had just gone down. You don’t feign surprise, and if he was expecting you to, he doesn’t show it.

You looked to find the shadowsinger again, likely still as a statue in the same place, but Eris was spinning you too quickly to find him.

“Perhaps it is a convenient way to have the mate we both want. Make me a larger villain to them, convince them you want to bring Azriel as a guard of some sort.”

“Do you really want me to be the one warming your bed, Eris?”

“Azriel’s a large male, I wouldn’t even have to see you over his body. My bed’s large enough, you could slip right in beside him.”

“Eris Vanserra, don’t let the Night Court hear you. You’ve gone soft.”

“I have not. I’m willing to tolerate much more than you think when it comes to my mate.”

A truth you weren’t quite ready to come to terms to for yourself. This whole mess had begun with you and Azriel, a tangled web that ensnared Eris somewhere along the way. You had no plans to be a backup, some secondary interest for Azriel when Eris was busy or mad at him.

But would you tolerate it for him?

You locked eyes with one of the statues, unable to stop the chill that swept down your arms at the sight of it.

“If you come to Autumn, you must know there will be expectations of you, of us.” The gargoyle’s trance was broken, your eyes finding Eris’s once more. His amber eyes reflected something like openness, some vulnerability he wasn’t quite saying.

“I have never taken this plan lightly.” You had initially, not even considering the kinds of expectations Beron would place upon the two of you. He would surely expect the two of you to live together, to produce an heir.

“Won’t he get suspicious when a bond doesn’t snap between us?”

“My father doesn’t have to know. Let me handle him - if I can convince him someone high ranking from the Night Court was foolish enough to throw themselves at my feet…” his words trailed off, not finishing the thought. You swore one of the gargoyles had moved, its large, pointed ears in a different position than they were before. Your eyes stay trained on it while trying to focus on Eris’s words.

“Would he get suspicious after everything with Morrigan?”

“He might have some suspicions, but if we play it correctly, make you seem like a lovestruck fool, he may accept it as a gift.”

Another spin around the room, everyone else a blur of color and shapes before you’re back against Eris’s chest. You don’t have a chance to worry about Beron or Autumn, Eris’s strong chest more than enough to support you for the moment. His eyes twinkled with a touch of mischief, making him look so youthful.

Eris picked up his tempo, your feet dragging behind, unable to catch up, when suddenly they’re not on the floor anymore. He had somehow lifted you into his arms, his hand splayed across your back to hold you up as your skirts twirled around the two of you in a waterfall of reds and blacks.

You squeaked, trying to contain your surprise at the display. Once he set you back down, he hardly gave you a moment’s respite before taking your hand once more.

“You’re ridiculous,” you spat, attempting to be harsh, your voice not landing right with the breathlessness from dancing. “I can’t believe you’d do that. Are you trying to make me look ridiculous?”

“No, it seems you do that all on your own.” The words were reminiscent of the Eris of several weeks ago, but they held no harshness, much more akin to a light fondness. Your ribs ached, something pulling deep in your chest, as you fought to catch your breath.

“You’re such an asshole.”

His lips curled at the ends, the closest he’d come to a smile while playing his part. It caused your heart to squeeze, struggling to beat again despite the vigor of the dance.

“Did I leave you breathless, my little spitfire?” The words send a thrill down your spine, a slight smile curling up your mouth.

“I have a nickname now? I thought I was just a thorn in your side.”

“Are you incapable of being multifaceted?” Eris’s accent was different from the ones of the Night Court, adding to more of his otherness than before. Each word was crisp and concise, wanting every word to be clear and understood.

Azriel’s accent was a bit rougher, some words sounding similar but having completely different meanings. Gruffer, his sentences inflecting at different spots than Eris’s would, fixating on different words. Eris spoke to be heard, wanting every word remembered. Azriel spoke to get his point across and be done with it.

No one in all of Prythian sounded like either of them.

Your dancing ebbed and flowed with the song changes, steps speeding up as the music did, movements turning long and graceful in slower sections. Eris was an incredible lead, following his movements felt natural despite his comments.

This whole plan was conflicting - you expected the bond in your chest to be screaming nonstop at the idea of leaving the Night Court. You didn’t want to leave Azriel, some deep well inside wanting him around all hours of the day.

Standing chest to chest with Eris, swaying across the floor, every touch shot heat through you, reminders of how his body felt on yours.

Maybe this could work temporarily. Let the Inner Circle see you with Eris before eventually Azriel tells them the truth.

Would he ever do that, though? In the time he’s been with Eris, Prythian has changed greatly, large addendums to the history books added constantly. Would he ever tell them? Would he ever tell them about you? How far do the secrets from his family extend?

Maybe getting away and getting clarity would be good. You could keep journaling, let your own thoughts be written out. Maybe even share them with your mate.

Your face must have shown an ounce of the regret and confusion you felt, because Eris squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to him. If you had known him better, you might say he looked almost concerned looking down at you.

The song was coming to an end, and you knew you would be getting off the floor soon. Rhysand and Feyre wanted you in Eris’s orbit long enough to dangle the carrot before him, hoping he’d be more rash. One last spin about the floor was all the two of you had before everything would change. You had never seen yourself as a court wife, much less the wife of a High Lord’s heir.

Halfway through the circle, a violin bow harshly strung the wrong chord, an eerie dissonant sound that had everyone on the floor stopping the revelry. A high-pitched scream came from next to you, a female in a long, brown gown slowly backing away from you and Eris as her partner began screaming, pointing at the walls.

The gargoyles descended from their perches, stone talons gripping into the wall as they crawled down. The mountain shook with their movement, dust spreading through the air. Removing themselves from their perches, stone fell from the walls, causing the ground to shake. All of the gargoyles were moving - some leaping, some climbing, but all of their heads were fixated on you and Eris.

Eris’s arm swept out, pushing you behind his body as they moved toward the pair of you. They had a cat-like quality as they moved, their heads swiveling and twisting, searching for something. Their faces were hog like, with long tusks coming from their mouths. Flames sprouted from Eris’s hands, waving them back and forth in front of his body, trying to scare the beasts.

Shadows rolled across the floor, Azriel’s or Rhysand’s, you weren’t sure. They moved like snakes, trying to ensnare the gargoyle’s long, deer-like legs, but it wasn’t working. The stone legs just rose above the darkness, stomping on the dark tendrils.

Slowly, Eris backed the two of you into a wall, the pack of gargoyles silent and assessing as they stared the two of you down. They made no sound, but their long, pointed teeth were bared, ready to attack.

“Enough.” Rhysand’s voice was deep and low, reverberating off the walls. He started descending the steps, Cassian and Azriel hot on his heels. The three together posed a daunting force, a wall of Illyrian muscle and wings ready to pounce.

“Keir, order them back,” Rhys growled. He was gaining ground on the male, almost close enough to throttle the ruler until a gargoyle stepped in front of Keir, blocking his path.

Rhysand’s eyes turned dark as black tendrils came from him, looking as if they were biting and scratching at the gargoyle. Keir just smiled, looking smug and joyful at the chance to fight Rhysand.

Several gargoyles flanked Cassian and Azriel, each Illyrian having at least three of the statues circling them. In unison they unsheathed their weapons, dark metallic Illyrian blades glinting in the fae light as they attacked.

You caught a glimpse at the top of the stairs - Feyre and Nesta left, likely back in Velaris to protect Nyx. Mor was a beacon of power, closing her eyes and whispering words you couldn’t hear, speaking some truth to the universe before it granted her a gift. Gold light extended from her hand, taking the shape of a sword, looking natural in her hands.

Whatever truth she spoke must have been important.

Eris had now made a ring of fire around the two of you, just barely fending off the dozens of statues ambling toward both of you. The flames made a barricade waist high, the heat licking up your neck, a trickle of sweat falling down your back. Two statues barreled through the fire, burning to ash as soon as they crossed the threshold. The rest stayed back, halting their running, attempting to stop. One wasn’t fast enough, its hoof crossing the fire and half of him disintegrated, the other half bucking and kicking in pain.

All at once, six gargoyles had rings of fires appear around their necks connected to a long, flaming lead tracing back to Eris. He yanked on the tethers, smashing the heads and bodies of several of the statues into the ground.

Across the room, the Illyrians dealt blow after blow on the stone, chipping away bit by bit at the strange creatures. Every piece of rubble that fell off would tumble away, packing itself into neat piles. Once the piles got large enough, they began moving, tumbling, trying to knock anyone out of their path.

Was Keir always this powerful? The way Azriel and Rhysand spoke of him made him sound like a petulant child, whining in his cavernous city.

Your eyes kept cutting between the gargoyles circling the two of you and the ones circling Azriel. Flashes of blue and red light cut through the gaps in the stone bodies. Rhysand was locked in some mental battle with Keir, the two males snarling at each other but you were too far away to hear what they were saying.

You could make out the familiar outline of Truth-teller as it would occasionally rise above the tide of bodies, coming down quickly to take out the opposition. You couldn’t feel any tether to Azriel, the bond quiet as he focused on the task at hand.

Most of the guests had fled, turning over tables and leaving chaos in their wake.

“Eris.” You nearly screeched his name as you looked to the side, several gargoyles scaling the walls to make it past the ring of fire. The ones not battling the Inner Circle were fixated on you, trying to make their way to you.

Eris turned at your yell, his eye catching yours momentarily. The moment felt never ending, holding his gaze as his flames warmed you. The flames surrounding the two of you suddenly shot skyward, growing several feet, nearly encapsulating both of you out of sight.

Eris looked in the direction you had last seen Azriel, a flicker of remorse taking over his face before he grabbed your hand. The world shifted and spun, your body free falling as it crossed through planes of existence, your stomach somersaulting across dimensions. You finally stopped moving, bending over your knees to tamper your nausea.

After a moment, the world stopped spinning and you straightened, trying to get any bearings. The room was dark, wood paneling coating every wall. A massive four poster bed sat in the middle, a plush green comforter on top. A hound sat in the corner, curled up in a bed, her slumber disturbed at your intrusion.

She stood, padding over to the two of you. She moved almost like Azriel’s shadows did, watching her move felt otherworldly. She had a peculiarly long snout and she emitted a soft smokey smell. She nudged at your hand with her nose, trying to twist your palm to pet her head.

“This is Clover.”

You stilled, your heart leaping from your chest, closing your eyes to prepare yourself for the revelation that is about to come. Swallowing hard, you found the courage to ask, “Eris, where are we?”

Eris leaned down, petting Clover on the rump, not looking at you as he spoke.

“I brought you home.” He paused, running a hand down his face, not wanting to accept the weight of what just happened. “To Autumn.”

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part 8

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 5.9k | warnings: discussions of pain? idk

Summary: the aftermath of sleeping with Eris isn’t as confusing as you thought it would be. Things with Azriel are getting better in a way you hadn’t expected, until a discussion with Rhysand opens the two of you up to a new idea that might solve all of your problems

Author’s note: happy @polysjmweek !!! Yall have been feral for this and I’ve been doing my best to get this out. It’s a bit fillery, but we have to set some stuff up!!

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The afternoon passed in bed with Eris, the scent of Azriel becoming weaker and weaker as the minutes ticked by. Eris had asked you to try to inflict pain, allowing you to touch him without any hesitancy.

It was a strange sensation. You were used to stitching pieces back together (either by hand or by magic). Decades of your life were devoted to learning everything about the varieties of fae - different skeletal structures, the extra musculature of winged fae. Illness, disease, injury - you were a generalist, preferring to be able to treat any ailment you ran into.

But he insisted you try and try again, each attempt at streamlining your magic in the opposite direction going nowhere, leaving you exasperated and slightly embarrassed at failing before the Vanserra. Despite that, it was almost nice being in the cabin with him. He was still Eris, spouting off insults every five minutes. As the afternoon wore on, his barbed words seemed less sharp, almost lazily thrown in a half assed attempt.

But still you felt a deep ache inside of you, some small pang in the back of your throat like something wasn’t quite right.

After about an hour or so, you wanted to give up. It was just a theory Eris had - in all your years of studying and meeting healers, you had never heard of this ability. You became more exasperated with each attempt, growing more and more convinced this was Eris’s attempt at procuring his own amusement.

“Think of Azriel.” Eris’s voice had cut through the thick air of disappointment you were suffocating in. What did Azriel have to do with this? And why had he been so far from your own thoughts for hours, when he was always at the forefront of your mind these past few months?

“What?”

“Think of Azriel. Think of the arrows in his back and in his wings. You felt his pain. Now remember it.”

You took a deep breath, stilling yourself, allowing Eris’s words to wash over you. You closed your eyes, trying to step into the memory. You thought about the living room of the cabin, the open space with minimal decoration. Azriel’s shallow breaths filled your ears, only allowing yourself to breathe after each of his. Your nose twitched at the copper smell, how every part of you had been roaring at the scent of his blood. How you clung to hope, wanting that feeling to surge through your hands and make its way into Azriel’s skin. You wanted him pieced together with every bit of hope or happiness you harbored, his skin a mosaic of your affection.

Your stomach dropped at the memory, pouring yourself fully into the moment that was days past, not allowing yourself the comfort of knowing he is somewhere in Velaris and he is fine. You had to live in the past, reaching for that feralness you dampened way down. Every sense heightened, the pain you took from Azriel was on the tip of your fingers. You were giving the pain life, letting it live in the very tips of your hands, feed off your blood and energy. its sole creator.

If one's lucky, pain only lives on in memory. Now it lived at your fingertips, growing and festering, waiting to latch onto a new host.

You exhaled slowly, grabbing Eris’s hand one last time. You weren’t really sure what to do, so you just swirled patterns on the palm of his hand, your fingers moving up to his wrist but going no further. You were tracing nonsensical swirls to etch into his skin, maybe even his soul.

The male did not react, staying as still as he had during all of your other attempts. Your heart dropped at the disappointment, feeling shame creep up your neck at having Eris watch you fail again.

So much for him considering the two of you equals. Fitting he’d only consider someone capable of inflicting harm to be an equal.

Your ministrations stopped, the silence of the room stilling your movement. Every other time you had tried, each failure was met with some response from the redhead. Now he sat silent, a sight you had never seen before.

Slowly, you cracked open an eye, unsure of what you wished to see. His pale arm was still extended toward you, but the freckles were now hidden beneath raised red abrasions. Your path of swirls overlapped each other, but they were easy enough to still follow. They all made varying trails of raised red skin, some parts more scratched, others looking more like painful welts.

You gaped at him, surprised such a thing could come from you. Something took root in your chest - pride, maybe? Healing magic was one of the most well documented types of magic, one of the most common and most useful. A large percentage of high fae had varying degrees of healing powers - from accelerated self healing to regrowing limbs. And you had just done something never documented before. Perhaps never even accomplished before. A huge, cheesy grin overtook your face, and a shocked laugh came out as well.

“Even songbirds have claws, don’t they?”

Finally looking at Eris’s face, his sharp features were an attempt at indifference. He held his face neutrally, and weeks ago you would have been fooled, but his eyes gave him away. They sparkled a rich amber in the light, losing the dark edges to make way for something brighter.

Looking at him now, the mask peeled back enough to see his enjoyment, you knew this was the Eris that Azriel had fallen so in love with. So disarming not even centuries of hatred could withstand it.

-

You left the cabin behind you not long afterward, the door finally giving so the two of you could leave. Maybe the shadows heard your laughs, allowing your exit? Or maybe Azriel wasn’t willing to allow his mates to miss dinner?

Whatever the case, you were happy to winnow back to Velaris, your stomach desperate for food. You had a one track mind as you headed for one of your favorite restaurants, a casual, quaint restaurant that had your favorite booths to curl up in and read on lunch breaks. The glow of the restaurant met your eyes, but someone bumped into you, their shoulder hitting you lightly. You looked as they apologized, continuing to shuffle off before you could say anything, their brown hair swaying.

Your gaze lingered just long enough at their retreating form that you noticed the stationary shop you had passed by. Without thinking, you doubled back, walking inside to find perhaps the most gorgeous shop you’ve ever been inside. Dark wood floors and counters, notebooks and pens and every organizational need was color coded.

You get your bearings long enough to pick up some pens and a journal, not really thinking, just doing. Seeing the shop made you think of Azriel, his secret devotion to journaling offering you insight into his inner life.

The past few weeks had been a tangled web of emotion, a back and forth of what lay ahead of you. You needed to unscramble your own inner life, figuring out what you thought and how you felt and write down every detail to look back on. You paid for your supplies, cradling them beneath your arm as you walked back across the street before being recognized by your hostess. She immediately found a small booth, offering it to you before scurrying off.

The hum of other patrons, bits of their conversation, and the hustle of the staff allowed your mind enough background noise to sort out the day you had. This was exactly where you needed to be. Alone with your thoughts, but productive. Now you get to spend a few hours tucked into a booth, scribbling it all out. You started the journal where this whole saga began - when your mating bond with Azriel snapped into place. Four months now felt like a lifetime ago, but that first day was seared into your memory.

It was a usual day. You had gone to work. You had a few patients that needed immediate tending to, the four males having been lost in the woods for quite a while. They would be fine, but you had stayed late to ensure a continued watch, waiting for one of the other junior healers to take over for you.

In the chaotic stretch of time you and Madja were helping them, you hadn’t been aware of just how much time had passed until your patients had been stabilized and a large Illyrian had made his way into the workshop.

Azriel’s face betrayed nothing, except a bit of relief at you being alive in front of him. At the sight of him, you turned to the window, not having noticed the setting sun that had sent the place into darkness.

“Az! I hope you’re not upset with me, merely lost track of time.”

He looked over the four beds, the four males all tucked into multiple blankets, redness in their cheeks and noses.

“I can see that.”

“They’ve been in the woods for a week,” you whispered low enough so the patients would continue sleeping but Azriel would still hear. He hunched over slightly, getting closer to you as you continued. “Poor males lost themselves on the Atterage Slope.”

Azriel sucked in a breath, somewhat familiar with the rocky terrain. He looked at the males again, wondering how they managed to make it out that far.

“What were they doing out there? Usually only Illyrians go out that way. Uneven paths are difficult without wings.”

“Tell me about it.” You chortled. “They seem pretty young. I think they’re in their thirties.”

Azriel nodded as if it was reason enough, remembering the dumb adventures of his own youth. The ridiculous schemes Cassian and Rhysand had pulled him into. The few schemes of his own he pulled them into.

It was a miracle none of them were this bad off.

“Ah, to be young and so brave.”

“You sound old saying that.”

Azriel’s wings fluttered slightly, the slight gush of air causing you to snort. In that breath of a laugh, your world tilted as if you had lost your balance, but you hadn’t moved. The air held a heavy dusting of magic to it, your vision nearly sparkling with it. Everything felt stronger, some sense of connection holding you steady despite your wobbly knees.

Looking at Azriel now felt as if you were allowed to look at the sun. What it must feel like to gaze upon the one thing that gives everything life, every aspect of your world orbiting around it just for a flash of its warmth.

The breath caught in your throat, before allowing for a new inhale of air that somehow felt crisper, as if the oxygen in it knew you weren’t the same as you were thirty seconds ago. As if every piece of life were more intense now that your universe had an anchor.

Azriel was your anchor, your lifeline, your tether to this world. Someone who was supposed to see your darkest parts and love them. Someone who would do anything for you.

There were theories about mates. Some people thought it was a matter of fertility, others thought the Mother was selecting for complementary traits in mates. You always liked the idea that mates were what you weren’t, giving one a new perspective to consider.

Reflecting on that day, it felt silly to wait so long. Each attempt you made to tell him the truth that lingered on your tongue at all hours failed miserably. The timing never felt right, and as happy as you had been about it, you had needed some time to adjust.

You adored the shadowsinger, his company one you always enjoyed. But were either of you ready for a long term commitment? Feyre had told you over a glass of wine once that all Azriel had wanted was a mate, leaving him pining after females in hopes they were his.

You had spent so long devoted to your studies, and now as a junior healer, were truly feeling your stride. Flings and short term relationships happened, but nothing you’d ever want to commit to for a year, much less the rest of your life.

But you spent those four months observing Azriel. How he drank his coffee, how he liked to sit in front of windows in the morning to warm his wings, how he always sat next to you and was the first to get up if you wanted anything.

You saw his pessimism, catching glimpses of the self-loathing that threatened to drown him. Some deep part of you knew that if you were right about mates, if they were chosen for complementing each other, your optimism and hopefulness was exactly what he needed. And his loyalty and steadiness was what you needed from him.

But how did Eris play into all of this? What did he provide that Azriel needed?

All of your thoughts had been logged in your journal, your food here and gone in the time you spent in your mind, deciding it was time to go home.

You had no way of making it up to the House of Wind without a winged escort. You could winnow, allowing the drop to just bang you up a little. Or you could walk the ten thousand steps and continue to think.

Restlessness crept up inside you, your foot tapping to expel the nervous energy. The steps would take longer and allow you to clear your head a bit more, potentially allowing you to sneak in unnoticed.

But they would suck.

Nesta’s smug face appeared in your mind, echoing her sentiments of a ticking clock. You sighed, making your way into the stairwell, letting the stone help still your racing mind.

-

***

The ascent hadn’t been as bad as you thought, even though your thighs were on fire. You couldn’t look over the side of the stairs, the dizzying height enough to make you want to hug the wall as you climbed up the quiet stairwell.

But you made it. Barely breathing, but you made it.

All you wanted was to collapse into bed, or to even lean against the doorframe for a few minutes, but if you stopped now, it’d take you ages to get back up. Rest was not an option until you were sure it would be hours before you’d expect to rise again.

The house was quiet as you crept through it, the pain in your legs sending hissing sounds from your mouth with each step. The halls were dark, a stillness in the air only there when all three of your roommates were away for training. The stairs to your bedroom were so close, you just have to make it through the kitchen where you can easily creep past Nesta and Cassian’s floor and make it to where yours and Azriel’s chambers lie.

“Have fun wherever you snuck off to?”

You stilled, Cassian’s booming voice bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. The laugh behind the words wasn’t quite right, a bit stilted for the usually jovial Illyrian.

“I didn’t do much sneaking.” Cassian shrugged as if you hadn’t said anything at all, either completely ignoring the lie or not believing it.

“Elain dropped off some cookies earlier. Want one? Otherwise I’ll eat them all and Nesta will be mad I didn’t save you any.” You turned, coming back down the stairs as he held out the box stiffly. The cookies did look great, a sweet aroma wafting from them you had missed in your panic to get to your room.

“Couldn’t you just not eat them all?”

His jaw clicked, the slight grind of his teeth loud enough for you to hear. He rummaged through the box before he held out a cookie, pointing it at your neck. “Couldn’t help myself. Just like whatever leech you tangled with today.”

Your hand flew to your neck, trying to shield whatever hickeys laid there. Beneath one of your fingers the skin was tender to the touch, a sure sign of Eris’s pleasure. You untucked your hair, draping it over your neck in a shameful attempt to hide away the day’s activities. The movement wafted the scent of Eris through the air, a quick momentary flash of pale skin and bedsheets, his intoxicating scent of whiskey and bonfire leaving you hungry for more than the cookie in front of you.

Cassian just watched, his outstretched arm acting as a guide to the marks on your now semi-covered neck. The two of you stared at each other, neither conceding in this strange standoff. The general was almost disappointed and upset to find you in such a state, as if he were your jilted lover.

You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even the mating bond in your chest was upset.

So why was Cassian?

You gave up, snatching the cookie from his hand a bit more forcefully than you should have.

“Does Azriel know?”

You choked on your cookie, coughing lightly. Heat climbed up your chest at Cassian’s question and the fact that you could feel a slight ache in between your legs. You crossed them, trying to limit the smell of your arousal from making its way to Cassian.

“Yes. Azriel knows.” He didn’t - at least not yet. There was no way to properly tell your mate you slept with his other mate.

But he knew you were with Eris. Was the reason you were with Eris.

It was Cassian’s fault for not specifying.

He eyed you wearily, not touching the cookies as you turned from him, ascending the stairs and away from his scrutinizing gaze.

-

Your first day back at work was less than fantastic. Madja hovered over your shoulder, watching your every move. You bit your tongue the whole day, knowing better than to ask her to give you space. She’d respond with some variation of ‘I don’t want to, but you leave me no choice’ or ‘I trained you to not burnout, what other teachings have you foregone?’

Easy, menial tasks filled your day, but your mind was so numb by the end you walked much more leisurely to where you usually meet up with Azriel. Your feet strolled the familiar path, everything familiar and ordinary while you felt anything but.

You could have mentioned to Madja the progress you had made with Eris, but it felt too much like a secret between the two of you. You also didn’t want to tell anyone before fully gaining control over it. You were able to hurt him once. You needed more practice, more control over it.

You had soaked in the tub for a long while last night, scrubbing away all traces of Eris. Your neck had healed overnight, gone were the purple and red marks Cassian had seen in the kitchen. Though they were gone, you still felt their bite whenever you pressed into the skin, the dull pain enough of a reminder that it had been real and not some figment of your imagination.

Catching sight of Azriel at the end of the road sent flutters through your stomach, your mind restarting again as you blinked away the mundanity of your day. You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face, your steps quicker to reach him. The matching smile on his face was like a siren song, pulling you to him.

“You are a nice sight after the day I’ve had, even if you did lock me in a cabin yesterday.”

It surprised you how light you felt seeing him. The past few weeks his face had made you into a melting pot of emotion, but now you only felt calm. Even if he had locked you in a cabin, the outcome was quite fruitful for you, so your ire was in short supply.

“Surely any face is better than boils and warts.”

“None of those today. Just Madja lecturing me every ten minutes. I hope your day fared better.”

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, a few of his shadows gently rolled down your arms, intertwining in your fingers. Their cool touch was familiar, a stark contrast to the heat that had radiated from Eris’s skin the previous day.

“Not much better. Tedious. Annoying brothers.”

“Oh, not both of them I hope.”

“Rhys wasn’t too bad, Cassian was the main bother.” You grimaced, lightly toeing your shoe in the street.

“That might be my fault. He found me when I came home last night and he force fed me a cookie.” His eyebrows raised at that, a confused laugh coming from him.

“Why didn’t you say no to the cookie?”

“It was one of Elain’s, who am I to turn that down?”

“Have you eaten anything since the cookie?”

You thought back over your day, the wearisome day not even broken up with a nice break for food.

“I had some coffee this morning.”

“That’s not food.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly jabbing him in the ribs with a finger. At that moment, your stomach decided to growl loudly enough to bring a slight smirk to Azriel’s face.

“Are you doing anything tonight? We could get dinner somewhere.”

“Yeah? Where would you want to go?” You stepped closer, invading his space. He smelled just like he always did, that comforting scent of night chilled mist and cedar that felt like a romanticized version of camping. You picked up hints of the bonfire smell that clung to Eris, melding so perfectly with Azriel’s scent it was practically hidden to everyone but you.

“Do you like comfort food?”

“Love it.”

“Then it’s a surprise.”

“So full of secrets.”

He only smiled, his arms wrapping around the backs of your legs and your shoulders, quickly pulling you into his chest before shooting off into the sky. Your laughter echoed down the street, bouncing down the alleyway.

How many times have you been cradled by him as he soared through the skies, his great wings beating against the air? The number could be in the thousands and it would not matter. Your heart stalled each time, and if you looked down you were sure to find the organ in the place you had just stood.

“You’re cruel!” You shouted over the wind directly into his ear. He flinched at your volume.

“I believe cruelty is in my job title.”

“I believe it has a stipulation that you’re not allowed to be cruel to me.”

“Forgive me. I’m not a fan of such formalities as titles.”

“You brought it up!” Azriel landed the two of you onto the balcony, his feet cushioning the impact. You laughed into his ear, incredulous and loud, not adjusting for the stillness his landing provided.

“Must you assign blame for everything?”

The sun cast away his shadows, his smile bright as the warm rays hit his wings. He looked wonderfully happy, practically glowing in the light. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him so happy. His eyes were on your face, golden flecks nearly blinding with joy.

“Ah, great for you two to join us!” Rhys’s voice burst the bubble, Azriel’s beaming face turning into a scowl before he looked at his brother. The spell was broken, the shadows back over his face before speaking.

“What is this?” His grip on you slackened, your body practically spilling from his arms. You stood unsteadily, not expecting the sudden loss of him. Gaining your balance, you looked around to find several familiar faces around the usually empty dining table. Despite it being Cassian and Nesta’s home, Rhysand sat at the head with Feyre on his left, Cassian and Nesta on his right.

They all looked serious, their faces not giving anything away. You knew Nesta and Rhys were usually at odds, but to see them seemingly united on some front slightly concerned you. Nesta wouldn’t even look at you, her jaw tight as she looked at Rhys.

“We wanted to discuss something with you.” Rhysand was clearly the one taking charge with whatever this intervention was. Azriel stood guarded, one of his wings slightly blocking you to keep him between you and his family. He stayed silent, waiting for Rhysand to say more.

“The gala in Hewn City is next week - Eris will be attending.” Azriel stiffened next to you, the color draining from his face. Everyone else was quiet, Azriel’s plea loud at the pause. “Rhysand-“

Rhys put his hands up, leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on you, not even looking at his brother.

“Well he does like you, doesn’t he?”

“What? What’s the problem, Az?” Azriel ignored you, his glare fixed in Rhys, only occasionally flickering to Cassian. None of what Rhys was saying made any sense. What do you have to do with Eris and Hewn City? And why was Azriel acting like it was a death sentence?

“Surely you don’t think Eris is so foolish to fall for the same trick a second time.” Gone was Azriel’s joyous laughter, his voice on the precipice of violence.

“Somehow I think it’ll work quite well this time.” Rhys looked at you, every ounce a feline predator having found their next meal. You stepped back at his gaze, never having felt so pinned in place before. “Won’t it?”

The question lingered in the air, but you still weren’t quite understanding. They were gaps in your knowledge, but you had always figured Rhysand wouldn’t leave you in the dark quite like this.

“Azriel, I don’t- what’s he talking about?”

“Yes, Azriel. What are we talking about?” Rhys cocked his head at Azriel, mimicking your questioning tone.

“They want to offer you as bait to Eris. Charm him to what - propose?”

Rhysand finally turned to his brother, violet eyes desperately searching into Azriel’s. You could feel Azriel’s apprehension and rage through the bond - he felt like a cornered animal, ready to attack and maim at any minute.

You still weren’t quite getting what the problem was. No one other than Rhys would look at you, their eyes focused on the ringleader of this intervention. But interventions had a reason, one you were only tangentially understanding.

You had spoken to Nesta before of Eris, asking her if he was as difficult as he seemed. It was practically a lifetime ago when you told her you pitied the fae mated to him. Looking at Azriel, you felt heat creep up your chest and neck at how wrong you had been.

“We can’t let potential allies slip through our fingers, Azriel.”

Rhys deflated just slightly, clearly unsatisfied with what he found in Azriel. He turned back to you, sizing up his prey. It sent shivers down your spine. You looked to Nesta again, looking for some sense of solidarity, of not feeling like a cow at auction, but she gave you none, only looking at the table in silence.

“Think about it, sleep on it, give me an answer in a few days.”

Azriel’s palm was gentle as it pressed against your back, quickly ushering you from the room, shielding your body with his wings. His long strides conveyed his urgency to get you out of there, your own feet barely keeping up with his speed.

Azriel pushed you into your room, his shadows scoping every inch of the room, tugging on every door and window, ensuring the room was secure. His face darkened, his hands almost shaking with rage. You had never seen him like this, his anger chilling the room by a few degrees.

“I can’t believe they’d do this. Suggest this. Allow you, urge you to marry him.” Every word was hurried and rushed, each a half formed thought you didn’t fully follow. His words were biting, but you didn’t flinch nor back down.

“I don’t understand, Az. Eris isn’t the evil villain they think he is.” You were certain you could talk him down, get him to see that this isn’t the death sentence he’s acting like it is.

“Thankfully. But they don’t know that. They’re offering you to this evil monstrous version of him. As well as marching you straight to Beron.”

He was practically on high alert, his body still guarding you, his shoulders straight and ready for any enemy attack.

You had forgotten about Beron. For one brief moment, you had forgotten the danger that Eris lived in constantly.

“I will be okay.” You didn’t have any reason for such confidence, but deep in your chest you knew it to be true. You knew Eris wouldn’t allow any harm to come to you.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like how they’ve banded together on this.” You could practically hear how loud he was thinking, his mind racing as he paced back and forth in front of you.

“They know something.”

It came through like a clang, the thought rattling around your mind.

“They think they can use me to get Eris to do whatever they want.”

Azriel looked at you, realization dawning on his features. His lips parted, making a slight ‘o’ as he stared, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They want to use him through you.”

You nodded, your jaw ticking at the idea of making anyone beholden to them through their mate.

“They think he’s my mate.”

You wanted to tell Azriel about your romp in the sheets with Eris. The urge wasn’t coming from a place of guilt, but rather just the urge to confide in him, to ask him what it could mean.

But now didn’t feel like the right time. There were more pressing matters.

“They think he’s my mate.” It was half-formed, the idea coming through to you. How you could play this, how all of this could play out. As nosey and annoying as Azriel’s family was, they may have just handed the two of you the perfect card.

“Azriel, this could solve everything. I go to Autumn as Eris’s bride..” you trailed off, hoping he would pick up on your train of thought. A moment later he was standing straighter, his shadows moving to swirl on the floor instead of at his shoulders.

“And I could join you as a guard, as your protector.”

“Do you think Beron would allow that? He’d assume you’re there to spy.”

He thought for a long while, his face scrunching with the effort of concentration. He was still annoyed, but his breathing was slowing down, his stance relaxing.

“It would allow me to visit Autumn more without them becoming suspicious at least.”

A hazy plan was forming between you two. Could this actually work? You certainly weren’t Eris’s favorite person, but surely you could get along well enough to live together. And maybe he could provide some protections for you against Beron.

“I think there’s more to-“ he was cut off by someone at your door, three quick knocks telling you exactly who it was. Azriel disappeared into the shadows in your closet as the door opened, Nesta making her way into your room. She looked around the space, expecting to find someone.

“I heard voices.”

“You’re hearing things, Nesta.” You were a bit cross with her, unable to help the betrayal you felt as she allowed Rhys to offer you up to Eris. Nesta had been your friend and watching her sit idly by as you continued asking questions, not understanding, only enraged you more.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know Rhys was going to ask you to do this.” She looked sincere, the care for you she harbored clear across her face.

“It’s fine, Nesta.” It wasn’t, but you wanted her to leave so you could keep talking to Azriel. You didn’t want to have this conversation now, didn’t want her to know how happy it would make you.

“No. I didn’t - I think Cassian told him.”

“Told him what?”

“That I think you and Eris are mates.”

Wherever Azriel was, you were sure he was listening. You felt tingly at having figured it out yourself, but you played dumb, the shocked expression on your face was one that was just fake enough to continue to lead her on this trail of thinking.

“Why would you think that?” You had already deduced their idea, but you didn’t quite know why. Her eyes tracked the book that still laid on your nightstand, the book you had gotten in secret to mourn the mating bond between you and Azriel.

“Is that the secret? Is that what you can’t tell me? Azriel knows, right? He’s been covering for you.”

“Yes.” The lie rolled off your tongue, “Azriel knows.”

You hated lying to Nesta, the action nearly giving you a rash somewhere on your shoulder. It was your one tell, but you couldn’t give it up now. You’d let them think you and Eris were mates, slowly easing them into the actual reality of how messy and entangled yours, Azriel, and Eris’s lives were.

It was a bit silly. Surely Azriel could just tell his loved ones about his own mateship.

But now, looking at Nesta and seeing the depths of pity in her gaze, you knew why Azriel had never told them.

For a moment, you wondered if that’s how they’d look at him if he told them of your mating. Would they be happy it wasn’t Eris for you? Your heart panged a bit, so much heartache and pain over Eris.

“I didn’t tell you because I had a hard time believing it myself.” You chuckled self-deprecatingly, rubbing your arm as you stood awkwardly. “You caught me.”

If she thought you were lying, she didn’t say. Or give anything away to indicate it.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.” You looked up only to find her face full of resolve. “I’m much younger than all of you and unaware of the full history, but Eris seems… well, surely if the Mother mated the two of you it was for a good reason.”

“Perhaps good breeding stock.” Nesta shook her head, looking you over.

“No, there’s something about you. There must be something about him, too. He’s very lucky.”

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, letting the silence wash over you. Eventually Nesta lightly clapped her hands together before saying, “well, I’ll be off for the evening. I have to pick a fight with my mate for bringing Rhysand into all of this.”

You gave her a small wave before she turned around, closing your door softly as she exited. You listened as her footsteps retreated down the hall and down the stairs, the house now quiet before Azriel rematerialized before you.

“Do you want to come with me to see Eris? I’ll need to brief him on the plan.” Your feelings toward the redhead had become so complicated, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him or not. The mating bond roared in your chest, some territorial ache winning out over the idea of watching the mated pair interact.

“I’ll stay behind.”

Scarred hands held the back of your head, pulling you closer, his lips gently meeting your forehead. The action warmed you down to your toes, such intimacy from Azriel a rarity you cherished.

“Be safe. I’ll be back.”

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part seven

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 5.9k | warnings: SMUT, piv, fingering, cheating?, light choking, creampie

Summary: Azriel’s promise to be more attentive is proving true. When he wants to take you back to where it all started, what happens when there’s someone unexpected in his stead?

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You winnowed to the cabin, the sight of it different now that it was daylight and the history of the journals was within you. You still hadn’t read the most recent ones, not quite brave enough to read Azriel’s perspective on meeting you. 

You would get to them. Eventually.

It had been a few days since Azriel showed up at your bedside, sad puppy eyes convincing you he could make this work somehow. So far he had been true to his word, spending several hours a day with you. He had been bringing flowers and pastries to your room every day, sitting with you and having coffee every morning. He ate every meal with you in your room those first two days.

Each day he opened up about some part of him that wasn’t in the journals: his mother, his spymaster duties, his role in the Inner Circle. 

It wasn’t all tragedy or bad feelings, though. He told you stories from growing up with Rhys and Cassian to even telling you his strategies for this year’s snowball fight. 

Then you two began eating out around Velaris, a variety of cuisine that filled your belly and your heart. He had always been easy company, your tongue loose and heart bursting whenever you were with him.

It was nice. It reminded you of the before. Before telling Azriel he was your mate, before even knowing he was your mate. When things were simpler and easy. 

Whenever his attention strayed from you, leaving you alone, your worries found you, wondering how long this attentiveness would last. Was he truly as sorry as he said? Or was this just to placate you long enough so he could slack off again?

You were open to his attention, his time, his company, but you always felt ready for it to be gone in an instant, never truly letting yourself relax. The one joy you have from if the worst happens is knowing that Nesta would cut Azriel into bite sized pieces for breaking your heart, and then she’d let the other Valkyries at him. 

Madja had cleared you yesterday to return to normal, as long as you promised you’d be getting enough sleep and not overexerting yourself. She had lectured you for roughly an hour each day of your recovery, mad and upset one of her healers would be in this position.

To rejoice in Madja’s clearance, Azriel had asked if you had any plans today before running off on a ‘secret errand’. No one had seen him the rest of the day, allowing you time to eat with Nesta and Cassian, the former of which would glance at you every few minutes before pointedly looking at the wall clock.

Tick tock.

This morning you woke up to a bouquet of flowers on your night stand - brilliant shades of black and blue in a beautiful bundle. Some of them only grew in the upper most regions of Illyria. Had that been his secret errand? Retrieving rare and coveted flowers for you?

The card attached to the bouquet had been brief.

‘Come to the cabin by noon. Let’s have a quiet afternoon to show my appreciation.

Love, Az’

You reached the cabin door, unsure if you should knock or just go in. You had left the House of Wind early this morning, stopping in a field to pick flowers, wanting to return the favor. The bouquet was clutched in your hands, a silly notion of making Azriel a flower crown in the back of your mind. You stood outside for a moment, debating your options, until you swore you felt a nudge at your back. The momentum was enough - it brought your hand up, turning the knob to find it unlocked.

You pushed the door open, a smile on your face as excitement bubbled to see Azriel. The smile quickly faded, replaced with something between shock and a grimace. Just like that night all those weeks ago, Eris stood in the kitchen, back to you, his long hair tied back with a leather strop. He wasn’t cooking, but he had two mugs prepared in front of him, the aroma of coffee and tea blending together nicely. 

You blinked several times, amazed you found yourself here, again. With Eris, again. 

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to tell me what you are doing here?” He didn’t turn around, didn’t move at all. You half thought you imagined his voice until he clanked a spoon against his cup.

“What I’m doing here? Azriel asked me to be here.” Indignation colored your tone, unable to overcome the shock of finding Eris here. 

“Azriel said he’d be here by noon.” As if his words reminded it, the grandfather clock chimed through the cabin, twelve strikes of the bell bouncing through the silence. He finally turned to look at you, a determined look in his eye, like if he squinted hard enough you’d grow bat-like wings and become a tall, hot Illyrian.

“Where is he?” You muttered, waiting for the door to open. You didn’t want to be stuck with Eris for too long without Azriel to run interference. The cabin was quiet as the two of you avoided looking at each other, an awkwardness that had you bouncing your leg.

At ten minutes past, Eris threw the towel onto the counter, stomping to the front door of the cabin. He grabbed the knob, trying to yank the door open, as if he could conjure Azriel himself, but the door didn’t budge.

“Damned thing.” He strained again, pulling harder, his forearms bulging with the action. He pressed his foot up to the wall for leverage, but the door still didn’t budge. A few shadows wove their way around the knob, gently trying to pry Eris’s fingers from it.

“Mother’s sake.” Eris gave a frustrated sigh before dropping the knob, turning to look at the bouquet that sat on the counter. It had looked just like the one Azriel had dropped off in your room this morning, not even noticing it once you had seen Eris.

“Do whatever it takes to have some common ground and like each other.” The words came from Eris, but he mocked Azriel’s intonation, the words likely from his own personalized note. “Bastardous male locking us in here.” 

He strode back into the kitchen, a bottle of something dark materializing in his hand. He poured several generous shots into his cup, the smell causing your face to shrivel.

He didn’t touch the other mug, the steam finally having settled enough for someone to enjoy it. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the only sound Eris draining his mug dry. Eventually you grew bored and crossed the room, standing next to him. You grabbed Azriel’s mug, grimacing at it before adding cream and sugar to it. You felt Eris’s eyes watching you, critiquing every movement you made.

“Why do you think you’re an equal to me?” Eris was the first to speak up, his voice nearly causing you to drop the mug from your hands. 

“I beg your pardon.” Out of the corner of your eye you watched him pour more of the alcohol, whiskey probably, into his mug.

“Then beg.”

You stood there, staring blankly at him. How did Azriel put up with this male, much less love him and want to see him? He was an arrogant ass, treating you as if you caused this situation? 

His long fingers met your eye line, snapping directly in front of you. “Are you dim? Why do you think you deserve his coffee, much less him?”

“Am I dim?” You felt two steps behind in this conversation, hating how inferior Eris was making you feel through all of this. You needed to get leverage, get ahead of him or outsmart him somehow.

“Are you going to repeat everything I ask you? I’ll tire of that so quickly, I’d prefer to write my questions down so you can sound them out yourself, assuming you can read at a high enough level.”

“I can read just fine.” The coffee was still a bit too warm to drink, but you cradled your hands around it, allowing the warmth to bring more fight back into you.

“You never know with the Night Court. Perhaps illiteracy is contagious and your High Lady is the beginning of it.” The mention of Feyre so casually had you squinting at him, trying to figure out if he truly thought so low of you or was just lashing out at whoever popped into his head.

“If you hate the Night Court so much, why be mated to someone from there?”

“Even broken clocks are right twice a day.”

“That would mean there’s someone else in Night worthy of your time.”

Pride surged through you at besting him, the redhead scoffing before finishing his tea that was more alcohol than tea at this point. You sipped on Azriel’s coffee, the taste different from the coffee in Velaris. It was stronger, even with your added cream and sugar. It had a vague pumpkin aftertaste, just a hint of sweetness you knew Azriel secretly liked.

“Why do you think you are better suited for Azriel than I am?” You had wondered this whole time how Eris viewed his relationship with Azriel - everyone around you described him as a monster, incapable of love or feeling. You had the shadowsinger’s side, and now you wanted his supposed other half’s.  

“I can handle his ire. He can take it out on me. I can handle him. His darkness, his violent tendencies, his anger. I’m more of his equal than you are.” Eris had turned his full attention to you, his mug now on the counter as he snapped at you. Ranting and raving, it’d be easy to confuse him with a mad male. 

Love teetered that line of sanity and madness, you supposed. 

“He could do the same with me.”

“Has he? Have you seen him angry? Have you seen him in the pits of despair?”

You pursed your lips, annoyed he was somewhat right. In the times you had seen Azriel at his worst, he was quick to hide himself away, never allowing you to help lick his wounds for long. Now you realized it was to see the male before you.

“Maybe I’m his equal in other ways.”

“You certainly are equal to him in being a pain in my ass these days.” They were muttered, but you knew he spoke loud enough to ensure you would hear it.

“Diplomacy isn’t your strong suit.”

“It isn’t Azriel’s either.”

“I’m quite good at it, and perhaps that’s why we were mated. Equals doesn’t mean we’re the same person. It means we balance each other out.” You pulled a flower from your bouquet, handing it to Eris. He doesn’t reach for it, only moving his head to look at you in confusion.

“What is this?”

“A flower. It’s a pretty plant that grows and fae enjoy receiving them as gifts.” He only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms at your response.

“I have a bouquet.”

“Azriel told us to play nice. I’m being nice and diplomatic. I’m giving you a flower.”

“From a bouquet you were going to give to my mate.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and putting the flower into it. “There. What you do with it now is up to you.”

You had finished your coffee by then, moving around Eris to wash it in the sink. Despite how painful it was to speak to him, you couldn’t seem to make yourself stop. Every pause in conversation needed to be filled by something. You wanted his voice to fill the silences, to know more about him, and maybe to prove to him that you’re more than he thinks you are.

“You’re not as mean as you want people to think you are.” You weren’t sure why it came out as a whisper, as if it was some truth that could only be acknowledged in hushed voices and soft tones.

“You have met me three times and think you know everything now.” He turned away from you, peering out of the kitchen window, watching the wind blow the trees outside. 

“You helped me. When I was healing Az, you helped me. That wasn’t mean.”

“I did no such thing.” 

“You hated me and you helped me.”

“You would have killed yourself saving him. Azriel would have been miserable. I was saving him from heartache.”

You watched Eris’s back tense ever so slightly, preparing himself for the conversation to continue. You let the words settle, let them reach every corner of the room, let Eris relax again before responding.

“Hm. Killing yourself to save someone you love. Sounds an awful lot like Azriel, no?”

Even from behind you watched his jaw ticked and his back stiffen, at being outsmarted or over how well you knew Azriel, you weren’t sure. To best Eris Vanserra in a verbal sparring match not once but twice in such a short time was something to truly brag to Azriel about later.

“You don’t have to lie to me. You can say you were being nice.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” You stayed quiet, only watching him before he sighed. “Fine, if you don’t consider a half-truth a lie.”

A beat passed, accepting that that was all you would get from Eris on the subject.

“Thank you. Even if it was to spare Azriel from pain, it spared me from some, too.”

He didn’t say anything, only moved through the cupboards, searching for something. It only took a moment until he pulled out a sleeve of chocolate, unwrapping the foil and popping a bit into his mouth. Your stomach rumbled at the rich, slightly earthy scent, practically tasting it on your tongue. In your excitement to see Azriel, to pick him a bouquet, you had forgotten to eat anything other than a piece of fruit you had taken with you out the door. You were practically salivating at the scent.

“Get your own.” 

“I didn’t think to prepare food.” You expected to meet Azriel here, for him to prepare the two of you food. Which would get a bit complicated with the mating bond, you supposed. You regret not grabbing some granola or more fruit.

“Then I guess you should leave or forage in the woods. Maybe get lost or maimed by pigeons while you’re at it.” You’re not sure why this is what set you off - he had said much worse to you earlier. But something shifted in you, a sudden spike of anger coursing through you. Your mouth started moving before you could even think.

“You are truly insufferable. I could think of a thousand males I’d prefer my mate to be mated to over you.” The words were all bite with no truth behind them. Beneath it all, you truly couldn’t picture any male measuring up to the one before you, aside from the male tethered to your chest who had locked the two of you in here. Eris was insufferable, but something inside of you kept pulling you toward him.

“I could say the same for you. In fact, I could list them out now, list how you fall short compared to them. Maybe then you’ll understand.” He popped a bit of the chocolate in his mouth, the bitter smell heightening your ire.  

“You’ve never had a nice word to say in your life, Eris, so why start now?” 

Eris’s smirk was equal parts infuriating and maddening. It was criminal how perfect the smirk looked on his face, bringing out a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“You want to hear pretty words from my mouth?”

“Yes, because I’m sure the action would cause your tongue to rot off.”

“You want nice? You can’t handle the harsh edges of me, but they’re the reality. You want the soft, round edges Azriel wants you to see, not the jagged edges he truly is.” 

His words pricked at you, gnawing on your bones and unrelenting as the pain radiated through you. Maybe it was instinct, the bond deep inside of you growing frustrated at the idea that Azriel wasn’t yours, but something inside of you snapped. Some dam burst, all of your pent up rage and anger spewing out in the hopes of catching Eris in the floodwaters.

“You think that’s nice?” 

He only shrugged, unbothered by your sharp tone.

“It had to be said.”

“Yes, well for things that had to be said, my very existence threatens your mating because you’re too insecure to try to get to know me. You worry about Azriel wanting me because I’m more likeable and palatable as a mate than you are. And if you had to get to know me, you couldn’t write me off any longer.” You gave him a withering stare, watching to see how your words would affect him. He didn’t even flinch, but somehow you knew your words struck a chord with him.

“I know you well enough, I don’t have to see more.”

“Really? Tell me anything about me.”

“You taste like raspberry and mint.”

“I do not.” His only response was a quirked eyebrow. “A past lover once told me I tasted like chocolate and the sea.”

“They lied to you, whoever it was. The sea? Ridiculous. I’d tell you the truth.” Eris had a more jovial tone, something with a slight competitive edge to it. The air had shifted, some levity to the air.

“You’ve lied to me before.”

He was closer now, looking down at you over his button nose. It should have intimated you, should have made you want to cower or put your head in the sand. 

“Have I?” You stared at each other, neither of you backing down. Eris made your head spin, conversing with him like a tornado you easily got swept up in.

“I bet you taste like deceit and smoke.” His lips were millimeters from your own, his nose nearly brushing against yours. The scent of chocolate mingled in the air in between you two.

“Want to find out why Azriel would prefer the taste of me?” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me to find out your tongue is why Azriel has stood at your side for so long.”

Those words set Eris off, his hips making the first contact, pressing you into the counter. His lips followed quickly, meeting yours in a flare of passion you had never experienced before.

He was warm and tender, the kiss full of need. He bit your bottom lip, quickly swiping his tongue across as a soothing balm. It was much easier than you wanted to admit to get lost in his touch. He was intoxicating and all consuming.

You understood now why Azriel wrote journal after journal about him. The Vanserra was insufferable, annoying, arrogant, and a whole list of adjectives curated to drive you mad. But his hands were holding your hips into place, clutching as if he never wanted to let go.

Eris pulled away, a soft whine coming from you as he did so. He didn’t part far - just an inch or two, but it felt like a mountain separated the two of you.

“Feels strange. You’re much smaller than he is with no wings to accommodate for.”

“I’d imagine they can be quite annoying.”

He pulled further away from you, a trail of spit connecting the two of you that he didn’t seem to notice following him. He was too concentrated on analyzing your face, looking over every inch of it.

“You’ve never touched his wings? It’s his favorite part. Surely he would have asked you.” 

“Eris, Azriel and I haven’t done anything yet.”

His brows furrowed, your words something too complex for him to understand. One of your hands clutched at his shirt, wanting him to kiss you again.

“What do you mean?” Heat crept your cheeks remembering how close you and Azriel had been that night, how it felt to have him in the room as you bathed. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the male clutching you was your mate, finishing what you had started in the bathroom all those weeks ago.

“We almost kissed a few weeks ago, but he said no.”

Eris straightened, his hands gripping your face. Amber eyes were searching for something in the features of your face, but you’re not sure if he found it. The scent in the room shifted, something new that smelled smokey and like fresh rain. It practically had your mouth watering, feeling heat pool between your thighs.

“Tell me that again.” Eris’s voice was stern, sounding on the last legs of restraint, his hands tightening their grip around you.

“Um, Azriel drew me a bath and afterward we were sitting around, talking, and we almost kissed but he pulled away. He said he couldn’t do that without your permission.”

Some form of realization struck Eris, his face relaxing before turning up into a smirk. His fingers dug further into your skin, feeling like a marking of his own.

“You kissed me before kissing your own mate.”

His smirk became feline, his eyes alight with some joy you hadn’t yet seen from him. You hadn’t made the realization until the words left his mouth. 

You had kissed Eris. And it felt good.

“And I got to kiss my mate’s mate before him.” He continued on, pure delight at the situation coming through his voice.

“Surely a kiss hasn’t changed your world, or are you so inexperienced?” His gaze had wandered off, looking somewhere in the distance, but your words brought him back to you. His eyebrows raised up, a predatory look in his eyes.

“No, but it has been a while since I’ve experienced someone that wasn’t Azriel. He is quite the lover, hard to even consider another once you’ve had him.”

Eris caught your lips once again in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. The bitter taste of chocolate was all consuming. He moved with purpose, as if he could mark every inch of you, explore every inch of you. To gloat perhaps? To mark you as his before Azriel could? You should have stopped it, should have wanted it to end. But you couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the burning desire for the male.

“You haven’t gotten to see all that is Azriel, hm?” 

His words were taunting as his fingers quickly pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his pale chest. Freckles littered his skin, dotting him with constellations. You reached a hand out lightly, wanting to lay in bed for hours mapping out every one of them. Your hand gently caressed his skin, wanting to wander down to the waistband of his pants. 

Standing in front of you shirtless, he was a gorgeous creature. Some deep part of you knew that seeing him fully nude would be even more divine, a sight reserved for only those truly deserving of such beauty.

“Haven’t gotten to see his cock?” 

You moaned into Eris’s mouth as he kissed you again, the only confirmation he needed to keep going. His mouth quirked into an arrogant smirk, his hands gripping tighter. He was certainly leaving bruises, but you didn’t care, you just need more.

“He’s quite pretty undressed. Have you imagined it?” You had seen Azriel shirtless plenty of times - training, in the heat of summer, when he was injured. A few months ago though, he had a cut across his chest and he allowed you to stand in between his legs while you patched it up. Being so close to him had ignited something in you. It made it easier to imagine him in the dead of night, sharing the warmth of his body beneath blankets.

“Do you touch yourself at night, thinking about my mate? Thinking about his cock inside of you?” You didn’t even try to answer him as he pressed his hips into yours, the hard press of his cock through his pants making you speechless. It nearly short circuited your brain, making thinking a luxury you couldn’t afford.

Eris’s hands traveled up your legs, lifting your skirts to the cold air. His long fingers traced the line where skin met fabric, your head dizzy from his touch. His hands gripped your ass, sitting you up on the kitchen counter before standing in between your legs.

“He’s very well endowed, are you sure you could handle it?”

Eris’s hand dipped into your underwear, his finger trailing through your folds as you grinded down onto it, desperate for the friction. His mouth was hot as it kissed down your neck, his teeth baring down eliciting a moan from you. He took his time, his mouth and finger working in tandem to tantalize you.

“Wanna find out?” He tutted at how easily his finger slid inside of you, dripping yet at the mention of your shared mate. He slipped a second finger in amidst your moans, delighting in the arch of your back.

“Think you could take him at his full height? You’ve seen his wing span.”

He sped up his ministrations, his fingers going deep inside you, all the way to his ring, the cold of the metal making you jerk. It was too much, too fast. If you had half your mind with you, you’d be embarrassed by how quickly his words and touch were sending you over the edge. It felt like mere moments since he first kissed you and now the orgasm ripped through you, fast and unexpected. Eris kept the cocky grin on his face as he untied his pants, leaving his fingers inside to let you ride out the wave of pleasure.

The air had now shifted. It felt like this was some sort of race - if he stopped or slowed down he would lose. Flames snuck up your body, their heat fast as they warmed every part of you. He yanked you off the counter, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist before he threw you onto the bed in the next room. 

This room smelled of nothing but Azriel and Eris, their commingled scent nearly suffocating. Your hips started bucking involuntarily at it, and Eris chuckled.

“Have you felt the cold of his shadows?” A new heat pooled as he slid the pants to his ankles, his cock springing free, so angry and red you knew he needed you just as badly as you needed him.

“He’s quite fond of using them to his advantage. He likes having bound partners. Would you like that? Being tied up for him to play with?”

You nodded, but Eris’s hand wrapped around your throat as he lined his cock up to your entrance. You whined, rocking your hips, desperate for him to slide inside you. But he only brushed the head of his cock through your folds, not giving you what you needed.

“Use your words. No need to be coy with me.” 

You kept eye contact as he applied light pressure around your neck. The look of arrogance he showed you was nothing more than a mask, his eyes giving away the deep desire buried within him. 

“I’d like it.” 

“Good.” Eris sheathed himself inside of you, the stretch delicious, like soothing an ache. He pinned your legs to his chest, pressing the two of you impossibly close together. You moaned at how quick he was, the hastiness heightening your desire. 

“I despise you, and you despise me. But wouldn’t it kill Azriel to know we were together first?” 

His cock felt so good it was hard to make out his words, but you were trying. You were certain he had some retort about being cock stupid on his tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when it felt like this to be in his sheets.

“He’s kept us in the dark this whole time. About time he got his comeuppance.”

Yes. That’s all this was. Revenge. Azriel had wronged the both of you by keeping secrets. 

This was nothing more than a ploy to get back at your shared mate. And that’s why each thrust felt incredible. 

You nodded, but your eyes stayed on his lips, practically pouting as he looked down at you. It only took a few more thrusts before he grabbed your face again, roughly bringing your lips together. 

Eris was so warm. He was the sun, Azriel his moon. 

And you were caught during the eclipse. 

Having Eris’s undivided attention was intoxicating, you couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to be between the two of them. Moaning into each other’s mouths, Eris grabbed your ass hard enough to leave bruises, bringing you closer to him.

He pushed you further into the bed, Azriel’s scent getting stronger with each thrust. The scent intensified every feeling, heightening that bond in your chest. You waited for any form of guilt to hit you, but it never did. 

Instead you felt stronger, bolder, braver with each thrust. The air shifted as you rolled Eris off of you, sitting down onto his cock. As you switched the two of you, you pulled the strop from Eris’s hair, his long hair flowing in a red river on the pillows. Pressing your hands into his chest, you grinded down onto him, delighting in the surprise on his face. It was gone quickly, but you saw it. One of his hands gripped your waist, pushing you down harder. The other hand held your breast, twisting and pinching your nipple. Your back arched, desperate for more of his touch. 

Eris’s long hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you, the first time you had ever seen it so disheveled.  You grabbed a fistful of his hair at the back of his head, bringing his face up to meet yours. This kiss was more urgent, full of need. You presumed Eris was putting everything he felt towards Azriel into it because you had never felt passion nor urgency like this in bed. 

It felt incredible - every thrust of Eris’s cock better than the last, every touch from him heightening your desire. His thrusts started speeding up, the pit in your stomach tightening as you got closer. 

You didn’t release his face, kept his mouth on yours as each thrust got sloppier until he moaned into your mouth, finishing inside of you. Hearing his moan was the last push you needed, falling off the precipice into bliss. 

You fell off of Eris’s lap, disconnecting your bodies before you laid next to him panting. Air felt like a commodity in the cabin, neither of you getting enough. If you were conscious enough, you would have noticed the movement in the shadows, the soft flick of darkness in the corner by the door. Eventually words came to you, the only thought coming to you from a conversation a few days ago.

“Nesta told me she thought you would be a selfish lover.”

“Am I not?” You looked over at him, the nonchalance of his words and his posture confusing you. Certainly he’d feel some type of way about having sex with someone who wasn’t his mate. 

You didn’t even know mated couples could do that. Some naive notion from your childhood perhaps - that mates were all consuming, no one else even registering.

Eris laying next to you was proof enough that that wasn’t true.

“I don’t know.” 

Your heart rate started evening out, the world feeling back on its axis, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t bring yourself to get up. The only thing you could do was grab the sheet and put it over yourself.

“What happens when you heal someone?”

His question threw you off guard. A brief flicker of reminder to get more contraceptive tea is filed away in your brain for later. 

“They get better.” He scoffed, turning on his side to look at you. He looked genuinely curious, and you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“What happens to you? Can you feel their pain when you do it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. Other fae knew what healers were, but they didn’t really question what it was like to actually use magic to stitch people back together.

“A little.”

“So you felt Azriel’s pain?” Just the reminder of it sent tingles through your body, a ricochet of sympathetic pain. Those arrows had penetrated his chest, slicing multiple organs. Your insides squirmed, the memory a shock for them.

“A little. It lets me know the body. I feel aches and pains, scars tell a story, all that.” It was difficult to explain to someone who had never done it before - weaving skin and tissue back together, as if you were some deity, able to undo the damage inflicted.

“Have you ever tried inflicting pain?”

Now that surprised you. The thought had never crossed your mind, but it’s not surprising it would cross his.

“Like fighting? Not really-“

“No. Your magic heals, but I’ve always wondered if healers could also channel that damage onto someone.”

“Oh!” It was such an interesting idea. If Eris weren’t here, you’d certainly chastise yourself for not thinking of it first, never even considering you could use your magic offensively. “I’ve never tried.”

Eris held out his hand in offering, the fingers that had been inside of you moments ago now stretched out. Your scent was all over them, and you wondered if it would seep into his skin, how long he would smell like the most intimate parts of yourself.

“Is your version of pillow talk just about destruction?”

“Most of the time.”

You didn’t believe him. The thought surprised you - perhaps you’ve spent enough time with Eris, or being mated by proxy, to know when he’s lying. It was such an easy read - how did the others not know, not see? 

“Does everything have to be some means to an end or part of a plot?”

“Azriel wasn’t.” 

Eris’s voice was full of forlorn and melancholy, as he looked toward the bouquet, lost in some memory or thought. His hand slowly furled into a fist before unfurling, still reaching out. He spoke like a widow at wartime, confusing you more than anything.

If anything, you were the widow at wartime. Azriel’s devotion to Eris had been unwaveringly loyal. You should be the one that was upset.

“Azriel’s the first thing to ever truly be mine.” Eris looked at you, his amber irises glistening. This close up, his pupils look nearly identical to Azriel’s shadows, as if every part of him held some part of his mate. The darkness was so familiar and comforting to you, it was easy to get dragged into its depths, to believe every word he said. “And now that’s not even true.”

His jaw ticked, snapping him back to the present. His fingers interlocked with yours before he squeezed your hand, urging you to do something. You only watched, not saying anything, too afraid to shatter this fragile moment. 

“Now, try to hurt me.”

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Author’s note: what are we thinking, how are we feeling about the man of the hour 👀

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part six

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 4.2k | warnings: general angst, mentions of dizziness and nausea

Summary: you wake up only to find out you were unconscious much longer than anticipated, leading to multiple needed confrontations

Author’s note: I’ve been a bit MIA lately 😅 just throwing this out in the void before going through my dms/inbox. I’m soooo excited for the next part

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You didn’t need to open your eyes to know how bad your head hurt. It felt impossibly heavy, practically glued to the pillow beneath you. You weren’t entirely sure your neck could hold up its weight anymore. You groaned, not really certain where you were. You combed through the last things you remembered, all of it a blur of blood and exhaustion, none of it clear.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you?”

A low female voice greeted you, receiving only a grunt in response. Thinking was hard and it only caused the throbbing in your head to worsen. You weren’t entirely sure who was talking to you or why, but you focused all of your energy trying to remember what happened.

All you could remember was blood and pain, a tiredness that you carried in your bones. There was arguing and arrows and Eris. Slowly more and more came back to you until you sat up, wincing at the sudden change, nearly nauseous from the movement.

“Azriel? How’s Azriel?” Your eyes cracked open to find your room around you, albeit slightly cleaner than when you had left it. The still room was a sharp contrast to how you felt inside. Nesta was sitting in a chair next to your bed, a book in her lap, a finger marking her place in it.

She didn’t look happy to see you, nor did she seem to care that you were awake.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you it would seem.”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. The suddenness was something you had not learned from when sitting up. Now the room was slightly spinning before you shut your eyes tight, hoping for some reprieve. You rubbed your eyes harshly until you saw stars.

“It would also seem like you almost burnt out saving him.”

Burnt out.

It was something they warned all healers, magic or not. There is a breaking point. A point of no return. It’s happened to many healers over the centuries, especially during times of war, when they don’t quite know their own limits.

Something all healers learn is the whereabouts of their magical limitations, where they need to stop before doing serious damage to themselves. All healers were taught not to place someone else’s life above your own. It’s drilled into your heads, one of the first rules of practicing the healing arts.

But you had done it. You had placed Azriel’s life above your own without even a second thought.

The pained look that was on Eris’s face was enough to keep you from crumbling from that realization.

For hours, you placed Azriel’s healing above yourself. You made the choice over and over again, choosing him over yourself. You made the right call. You would do it again. You could handle a broken bond, but not a dead one.

Maybe this one sided devotion was proof enough you were making the right decision.

“I’m sure you have a better understanding than I do of how stupid and reckless that is, and yet you still did it.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t the happy, soothing voices you usually hear patient’s families spoke with after they wake up. If you heard someone chastising a patient after waking, you’d chew their heads off. Instead, you stayed quiet, just watching Nesta as she continued on.

“For weeks now, I have sat idly by as you spiraled into self-destruction, but I can’t do so anymore.” Her voice cracked with each word, betraying the anger she was trying to inject into each word. “You are my friend, and I care so much about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her concern cracked at your heart. She crumpled into herself, bringing a hand up to her mouth. She looked uncomfortable, like her body had been glued to the chair and was finally unfolding itself from strange positions to find comfort.

“I’m fine, Nesta.” You were groggy, nauseous, and a bit heartbroken, but you’d be fine. Azriel was alive, you were going to be mateless, but you’d be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, a look of annoyance crossing over her features. You weren’t sure if it was over your words or interrupting her.

“I haven’t been there for you as I should. I thought you needed space, and now you’re here.” She spat out the last word, but you knew she wasn’t talking about being confined to your room.

“How long was I out?” You had to stop Nesta’s spiraling and get a handle on the situation. Madja wasn’t here to tell you what had happened, but surely you could parse out your state from a few questions Nesta should know the answers to.

“Four days.”

Nesta must be wrong. Surely there was no way you were incapacitated for four whole days. That was ridiculous. But you looked over Nesta, taking in the purple bags beneath her eyes, her hands fisting into the fabric of her wrinkled dress.

She wouldn’t lie about that.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” And you hadn’t. You hadn’t thought of anyone except for Azriel and Eris for several hours, all of your attention on the two males. When you weren’t examining Azriel for his condition, your gaze would end up floating to wherever Eris was.

But now neither of them are here, just you and Nesta.

“You didn’t scare me. I was terrified. I thought you were gone, thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nesta, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” She repeated your words with a venom that had you recoil, preparing yourself for the strike. “You were wailing in Cassian’s arms in the foyer. You were inconsolable until you passed out. Madja’s been here nearly every hour to check on you.”

Shit. If Madja was making hourly rounds, you were in worse shape than you thought. Hourly rounds meant you must have been practically knocking on death’s door.

“What happened out there? What happened when you were with Azriel and Eris?” Nesta was practically pleading, desperate for some kind of answer. She was like a dog, a scent stuck in her nose until she nosed her way to the truth. You wanted to break, tell her everything.

Until you’re struck by the memory of Eris’s hand, pushing through Azriel’s wings, finding you. How tight his grip was, he warm his skin had been.

“We were ambushed. Azriel took the brunt of it. We healed him and came straight back here.” You absentmindedly rubbed at your wrist

“But you were gone for hours. You should have winnowed back.”

“Eris winnowed us somewhere. He was in bad shape, so I fixed him. How’s Azriel?” You needed to know more about his condition. Nesta said he’d be fine, but did that include any long term effects? How much had your healing helped him?

“He’s resting, but he’ll be fine.” She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping on her arm, not telling you much more than she already had. You were sure this was her punishing you, by leaving you in the dark on Azriel.

“If he wasn’t fine after you nearly killed yourself to save him, I’d resuscitate both of you to kill you myself.” You hadn’t realized you forgot to respond until she chastised you.

“Nesta-“

“You both were gone for hours. It was supposed to be quick. None of us realized until Rhysand couldn’t get through to either of you.”

You blinked, surprised at that. Eris must have had some form of protection put around the cabin that stopped Rhysand.

Interesting.

“And now you’re telling me next to nothing.”

“I just woke up. I can hardly recall it all myself, okay?” A lie. You remembered all of it clearly. The splintering wood, having to carefully remove the arrowheads, all of the blood gushing from him, Eris’s quick remarks.

“Did you fuck him?” The question was quick and unexpected, and you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you looked at her.

“Who, Eris?” She didn’t move, didn’t give away any slight movement. Still as a statue as yiur heart began beating faster.

“Yes, Eris. You reek of him these days. I won’t tell the others, but I need to know.” His name on her tongue sent a rush through your body, your jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Yes Nesta, I fucked him while Az was bleeding out.” The barb was quick on your tongue, this conversation raising your heckles and irritating you more than anything. Nesta’s eyes hardened for a flash, a mischievous glint in them before she softened ever so slightly, her voice turning from admonishing to conspiratorial in a manner of seconds.

“Do you think he’s a selfless lover?”

“No.” The response was too quick, too ready on the forefront of your mind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. “I imagine he’s selfish in every aspect of his life.”

“So you imagine it?”

“Nesta.” Her name was sharp from your mouth, a knife slicing across the room. She took a more defensive stance, approaching your bed. A knowing smirk overtook her features for just a moment before it quickly contorted into one of concern and annoyance.

“Mother’s sake, tell me something, anything.” Nesta was pleading at this point, uncaring at the vulnerability and guilt she was sure was all over her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re avoiding everyone, you're being self destructive, you’re spending a lot of time with Eris of all fae. What am I supposed to think?” She was pacing now, her footfalls back and forth across your floor, an anxious rhythm that only dug the secret deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Nesta, I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not accepting that.”

“What?” Her concern was shifting into nosiness. You clenched your hands in frustration, nails digging into skin harsh enough to leave marks.

“It’s not good enough.”

Rage was coiling inside of you, a ferocity nipping at your fingertips begging to be let out. You had to swallow down a growl from slipping out, the territorial feeling nearly consuming you.

You had to stall her. Get her out of here before you exploded before her.

“Give me a month to figure things out. I’ll be honest with you then.”

“A week.” You sighed through your nose. Of course Nesta was going to barter with you. Your left hand felt warm. A small trickle of blood was about to stain your sheets, no doubt.

“Two weeks.”

She looked to the window, her face blank as she thought over your offer. She was taking this almost too seriously, as if it were hostage negotiations or preparing for war.

“Fine. Fourteen days from now you’re telling me everything.” She pointed a long finger at you, the agreement weighing the air down. You felt a shift in the room, uncertain of the magical perimeters of your verbal agreement.

You released your hand, grabbing the pillow behind you. You didn’t care about the blood as you held the soft material to your face and screamed.

-

Members of the Inner Circle trickled in throughout the day, each one wanting to see for themselves you were awake and had all your faculties about you. It was sweet, but by the time you had seen Cassian and his boisterous laugh, your head was pounding so hard it made the soft lights in your room appear blinding.

Feyre had come in a few hours after Cassian, boxes loaded in her arms as she came into your room. You were a bit groggy, having just woken from a nap in the hopes it would tampen your migraine.

It half worked.

“What is all that?”

The boxes shuffled in Feyre’s arms, ringing and tingling with each step.

“Well, I wanted to bring some jewelry to look over for the gala in a few weeks.” You had completely forgotten about it, had forgotten that one of the days you were incapacitated was a scheduled day for you, Feyre, and Mor to go dress shopping.

“Thanks, Fey. Sorry for missing-” she shushed you, not letting you finish your apology. She spread the boxes across your bed, gently lifting the lid of each one to reveal exquisite necklace after exquisite necklace. Each one contained more vibrant jewels, shinier than the last.

The eight boxes practically blinded you with the light coming in. Feyre noticed the squint in your eye and quickly closed the curtains.

“They're gorgeous, but I haven’t even picked a dress.”

“Maybe you could pick a dress after you pick the jewels. Black goes with everything, so..” she trailed off, sitting in the seat next to you, her back straight. She watched you eagerly, her eyes flitting between you and the pile of jewels before you.

“Are you wearing any of these?”

“No - Rhys surprised me with some onyx pearls. Want them on full display.” She reached a hand up to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what Feyre meant - skin, and lots of it, on display. She was much quicker to adapt to fae views on modesty than you had anticipated.

“Oh, well in that case.” You sat up a bit straighter, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible. Each necklace must have been worth a pile of gold marks.

A few of them looked quite similar - chunky gemstones of varying colors set in different metals. One necklace did catch your eye. You kept looking over to it, the other ones looking dull and lifeless in comparison. Deep red stones perfectly set to resemble Night Court jasmines. The dark red nearly looked black until the light hit it, refracting rays of red. The stones branched out, weaving around the neck to create multiple flowers connected by leaves.

You couldn’t stop looking at the necklace, your hand gently rubbing across it.

“Do you like that one?”

Feyre had a knowing look as she watched you, but you didn't turn to see it.

“Yes. I do.”

-

A few more visitors came and went - Madja (again), Rhysand, Mor. Each one not the shadowsinger you wanted to see. Maybe it was better to wait. Build your strength up a bit before shattering your heart.

Rhysand and Mor could both tell your head wasn’t with them. Rhys accepted it, leaving you to your thoughts, but Mor lingered, her never ending stories an attempt at distracting you. The attempt half worked - at least now only every other thought was about Azriel.

But most of the other ones were about Eris.

Your friends tried to help clear your mind, but all your thoughts whirled and swirled with fire and shadow, bright and vibrant colors immediately snuffed out by the darkness.

Everyone told you Azriel was fine. But where was he? You felt unsettled, unable to truly concentrate without seeing him.

You glanced over to your bedside table, the book on broken mating bonds practically laughing at your turmoil.

You went over what to expect again, trying to see if you can recall all the symptoms and long term side effects of the broken bond, repeating them to yourself like a mantra.

-

It wasn’t until the next day you saw Azriel. He had gently knocked on the door before coming in, each movement slow and unsure, as if approaching a wild animal.

“I had heard rumors you were awake. Wanted to check for myself.” He stood with the door to his back, as far away as possible from you. One hand on the knob, but his body was angled right at you.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at him outright.

Azriel looked beautiful, like always, but he carried a tiredness with him. His wings weren’t as high as they usually stood, his shoulders were caved in a bit. His shadows were slithering in every direction, all trying to reach you, but held back by some invisible tether.

He looked miserable.

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, an echo in the dark woods late at night. A salvation or a new fear.

“Have you visited while I was asleep?” You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted him here, how much you still thought of him.

So what if you were going to stretch out the last few minutes of your bond.

“Madja wouldn’t let me. She had Cassian and Mor practically guarding the door day and night to ensure I stayed put until completely recovered.” He scoffed as he said it, as if he were nothing more than an animal incapable of decisive thought.

Or they didn’t think he was the coward he had been for the past few weeks. They thought him capable of seeing you.

And yet here he was. Despite his self-loathing, his inability to make a decision, to speak, to do anything his mates need him to.

He wanted to be the male his mates needed.

“I wanted-“ he began, searching the room for his next words, as if they would be written out on your wardrobe or the painting behind your head. He tightened his hand into a fist, the scars nearly turning white as he looked at you head on.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to nearly die saving me.”

“I would have done it for anyone else.” The second the words left your lips, you knew Azriel wouldn’t believe them. He always knew when you were lying somehow, as if the mating bond gave him some unfair advantage to your heart and motivations.

Azriel only nodded, not fighting you on the lie. You watched him suspiciously, watched his chest rising and falling, subconsciously counting his breaths.

“Are you tired?”

He looked anguished, like he carried a deep hunger and no meal was enough to sustain him, let alone nourish him.

“No.”

“Nesta said you needed more rest.”

“Nesta lies when it suits her.”

An awkward silence settled over the two of you, weighing you down further into the bed. You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your elbows until you reached a sitting position. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say. It wouldn’t get easier the longer this went on. Azriel moved to your side, moving pillows to give you a proper cushion and to help prop you up.

“We should talk, Az.” He looked over you, the pillows abandoned as all of his attention was focused on you. You held your hands in your lap, wringing them for every ounce of courage they contained to get through this conversation. Your stomach churned with dread, the thread around your heart trying to stop you from saying what you had to.

“When you were injured, because of me, I decided it’s not fair to you or me to keep dragging this out. We should end things.” You looked at your hands, proud you had gotten the words out without stuttering or breaking. You swallowed harshly, your throat dry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reach for the water on your nightstand.

Quiet surrounded you, a stillness you hadn’t expected from this conversation. There were no shouts or sobs, no frustration sitting in your chest. No relief or songs of praise at being free.

Just silence. Like you had made him incapable of thought or feeling with those words.

“Is that what you want? Or is that what you think I want?” His words startled you, and you finally looked up to find a layer of rage coating his face. He had come closer while you were looking elsewhere, finally being in the room, allowing himself in the narrative.

Finally taking charge.

“Isn’t it? What’s the point in having a mate who doesn’t want you?” Your words had an immediate effect on him, the male before you rubbing his hands on his face. One of his shadows hooks around his fingers, trying to pry them away, to make him seen. Another one swirls his ear, and you can’t discern it, but you hear a light buzzing from it.

He sits in the chair next to your bed before quickly getting back up and grabbing one of your clammy hands.

“I have not been good to you or Eris. This is hard, okay? No one has ever had this happen and I didn’t want either of you hurt.”

You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but he held it tighter. The textured grooves of his skin were more prominent as he held you. “Bit late for that.”

“Please. Please, give me more time. Give me a chance. Maybe we can figure something out, some kind of arrangement.” He was desperate, a pleading voice you had never heard from him. Was this how criminals of the Night Court looked to him, pleading at the ends of their lives for just one more chance?

“An arrangement?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what to do when I have two mates who I care about who also hate each other and they both currently hate me.” He paused, chest heaving. His hazel eyes looked so lost, so unsure. “Not to mention someone out there knows about us or about us being out there. I haven’t been able to figure it out, haven’t been able to figure any of this out.”

The end of his sentence tapered off into his spymaster voice. A tone full of obsession and getting to the root of things, a dogged voice of determination.

“Please, let me take care of you. If not as your mate, as your friend. I care so deeply about you and you are where all my thoughts have been the past few days.”

“What of Eris?” Azriel used to recoil at the mention of his other mate, his name so foreign on your tongue. Now he showed no change, almost happy to hear it.

“He’s popped in now and then. He’s angry with me for getting hurt.” The mention of it sent you back there. A large, heavy body nearly crushing you in an effort to save you. Hoe you had felt him slump into you, his body giving out, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Is he upset you shielded me?”

“Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.”

“As proud as Illyrians?” Your question brought a smirk to his lips, a twitch you knew he couldn’t suppress. You hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, but it felt more like a lifetime since you had a chance to see anything other than impassiveness or pain on his face.

“Almost.” He chuckled, lighthearted and free. A rarity you didn’t take for granted. His smile melted, a more serious, solemn expression overtaking his face. His hazel eyes were a shade full of desperation you knew a little too well.

“Give me time. Please. I’ll handle Eris. Just don’t - don’t reject the bond if you have an ounce of hope this could work. That’s not a sadness I wish to see you carry.”

“Why are you talking to me about this now? You’ve been avoiding this for weeks, Az.”

“I was afraid. I thought if I acknowledged it, I'd be hurting Eris. But I hurt both of you anyway. And I need-” the words die on his tongue, an awkward pause as he searches for the right words without being too vulnerable. “I need to- I needed to.. I don’t know how to do this. To be the male you both need. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Are you here because you have to be?”

“No. I want to be here. Let me be here. Let me try.”

Something about him cracked you open inside. In the weeks of this turmoil, the constant push and pull, the uncertainty, Azriel hadn’t looked so open, so vulnerable, so pained. If you spent long enough, you were sure you could map out every regret on his face.

Two roads laid before you. To end it all now, cut off any further heartache. Or you could try, allow Azriel time to figure something out.

He cared for you, you knew that deep inside of you.

With each passing second, your earlier resolve to end things became weaker and weaker, your heart winning the argument with your mind. Perhaps Nesta was right: you were self-destructing. Or was it the mating bond, so loudly swirling in your chest, determined to see itself recognized, even if it meant leading you overboard into frigid waters?

“You may stay. One condition.”

Azriel’s face relaxed, but he still seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, your words only lifting a few pounds off the load.

“You can’t leave at any inconvenient time, can’t just leave or shut me out because things get hard. I am your mate, and if you don’t treat me as an equal, or someone of importance… I’m gone.”

“Of course.” A light tingle gripped you again, less powerful than the magic that had floated around during your deal with Nesta. This time it was more like a light wind disturbing settled dust, spreading it across the both of you. Azriel’s skin almost brightened with the promise, breathing new life into him.

It suited him.

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part five

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 6k | warnings: general angst, canon violence, blood, loose medical stuff that likely doesn’t make sense

Summary: avoiding Azriel only works for so long when he uses Rhysand to get you to see Eris one more time. You’re more than shocked when your meeting is ambushed, wounds making you reconsider things.

A/N: we’re insecure, and we don’t know what for! Anyway please enjoy 💕

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After Azriel had left you in the bathroom, you stood there for what had to have been hours, the last remnants of his warmth clinging to the air around you. You had never felt so alone, his rejection an intense sting you were certain branded your soul.

Your chest felt heavy with his presence. At some point in the night you had finally figured out how to shut him out. The iron was heavy as it shackled your heart, cutting off the mate who was supposed to protect you, not knowing he was who you needed protection from.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night and it was a battle the next night to sleep for even a few hours. Your mind felt stale and stagnated, yearning for the fixation that was his journals. Azriel had given the most recent one to you just before rejecting you, not even having the chance to crack the spine yet. His confession that Eris was above you still stung too much.

You spent most of your time outside of work now laying in bed, unable to stop your thoughts from analyzing every angle of your entire relationship with Azriel. You hardly slept, no idea how much time had passed in the stillness of your grief.

Rotting in bed was an option both Nesta and the House did not appreciate - the latter stopped giving you full meals, the former making her way into your room this afternoon informing you that you would be seen at dinner so she had proof you were alive and eating.

The last people you wanted to see were happily mated couples, practically rubbing their mateship in your face just by existing. The Mother was surely testing you in some way, and you weren’t sure if you could handle the outcome of failing.

You had left your room one singular night during your solitude. The moon had been bright through the windows as you snuck to the library, leaving a note for Clotho to deliver a book on failed mating bonds to your room in the House of Wind.

It was an unusual request, but you knew Clotho would do it. You spent many nights in the library pouring over textbooks, dropping off various sweets for Clotho and the other priestesses in offering and thanks for their help.

By the next afternoon the book was on your bedside table, placed there by the house no doubt to ease your embarrassment from the nosey eyes of Cassian. Now the book on broken bonds sat on top of the last journal you had gotten from Azriel, taunting you with your future within its pages.

They were all going to find out eventually that Azriel had rejected you, but that left you in an even more impossible situation. Reaching out for comfort from your friends meant Azriel’s secret mating with Eris became public knowledge. No matter how mad or upset you were with the both of them, that was a line you refused to cross.

Would Nesta and Cassian kick you out? If Azriel didn’t want you, surely you’ve lost the friendships you’ve made the past few years with his family?

Maybe you’ll move to Spring. Tamlin surely won’t notice if you just picked a spot and built a house.

You put your head in your hands, wanting to claw the possibilities out to find which one would save you from this grief.

Your self imposed isolation hadn’t kept you safe from seeing Azriel. You had asked Cassian to fly you home from work, a job he did with delight. You avoided dinners, changed your entire schedule to maximize your potential to avoid him.

And yet you’d pass him in the hallway, see him in the stairs, and find him in the kitchen. He was everywhere, each appearance only pissing you off further. Every time you ignored him, even going so far as to bump him with your shoulder when passing by.

But he never said anything. Just looked in your direction, his eyes not catching the light like they used to. His shadows don’t even follow you around anymore. They clung to Azriel like a second skin as if holding him upright.

Were you a failure? Had any other fae had such a short mating? Was it even truly a mating?

Your anger had been simmering for a while, but now as you descended the steps to dinner, your rage was palpable, nearly carrying it with you like Azriel does with his shadows. You craved it, needed it to hold you through seeing him, having to pretend he hasn’t laughed in the face of the Mother and carved out your heart.

But your anger was for naught as you approached the dining room. Azriel wasn’t there amongst the faces of his family, a rarity for the House of Wind. Usually dinners consisted of Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel, but tonight Rhys and Feyre were in attendance, a small Nyx situated on Feyre’s left.

Your fury tampered down, taking it off the heat and letting it cool down as you walked in, all eyes turning to you.

“Just in time! Now can we eat, Nes?” Cassian was impatient, his fork already in hand, clearly waiting for the second you showed up.

“Let her sit down first, Cassian.” Rhysand laughed. “Or perhaps you’re going to gnaw on her legs, hm?”

The growl of Cassian’s stomach rippled through the air, his body’s own testament to the discomfort it felt.

“Go ahead and dig in, I wouldn’t want Cassian to starve.” Cassian let out a ‘thank you’ between mouthfuls as you sat across from Nesta. She watched as you sat, her eyes tracking as you picked up the tongs to plate your food. She didn’t relax until you began eating, and even then it was only enough for her to eat.

You watched her watch you, confused about her intensity, not even paying attention to Rhys and Feyre’s light teasing of each other.

It was wonderful that they had happiness with each other. Good for them. You stabbed your chicken with a bit more force, chewing slowly, putting on a show for whatever Nesta was watching for.

“Azriel should be back in time tomorrow.” It was almost comical how quickly your ears tuned into the conversation at his name.

“In time for what? What’s going on tomorrow?” It was the first words you had spoken, and you didn’t notice the glances they all shot to each other. Rhys turned his attention to you, violet eyes kind as he spoke.

“You and Azriel will be seeing Eris tomorrow.”

“We are?” The incredulity of your tone could be heard from streets away, other family dinners halting at the annoyed tone that floated on the breeze.

“Yes, he told me Eris is quite chatty with you. Azriel left word that Eris had something important to share and that it was urgent the two of you met with him.”

You blinked a few times, trying to push your anger aside to make way for the bewilderment. Had Eris called for this? Or was it Azriel, finally wishing to put an end to this?

Your heart hammered, the string around it pulsating tighter, worried it would be broken and left unraveled to slosh around inside your chest for eternity.

“Maybe Eris likes you.” Cassian made kissing sounds at you. Your eyes remained fixed on Rhysand, as if the longer you looked the more answers you’d get. He tilted his head, the slight caress of a claw tapping onto your mental shields the only thing to get you out of your trance.

“Don’t be gross, Cass.” Feyre chided despite her giggles. “I don’t think he’s capable of enjoying anything.”

“Eris likes fresh blood.”

“So did Amren.”

“Rhys, I’m not sure if I should go.” You broke up their joking, finally responding to Rhys’s prodding. You were pleading with your High Lord, trying to make him understand you can’t.

“I know he’s a bit much, but if Azriel’s right and Eris has some soft spot for you, it’d be in our best interest to exploit it.”

How far Cassian had been from the truth. Eris would delight in nothing more than ripping out your arteries with his teeth.

You nodded silently, looking back to your plate, pushing the peas around. You don’t say another word, you’re not even keeping watch of Nesta before retiring for the evening.

-

Rhysand hadn’t given you a time to expect to leave, so you spent the morning working with Madja, telling her you’d have to leave at noon to attend to some affairs Rhysand had asked of you. The older fae was annoyed, her wrinkles deepening, but she kept her mouth shut before walking off, muttering something about young males in power.

A few patients had come in, mostly to have previous injuries checked for an all clear. The cold snap in Velaris had left several fae slipping on ice, many twisted ankles keeping you busy the past few weeks.

You left promptly at noon, saying goodbye to Madja before heading out. Seeing your most recent patients had you checking every step for ice, ensuring sure footing before fully putting your weight down as you headed to the end of the road, already seeing the tips of Cassian’s wings.

You bundled yourself in your coat, burying your face into your scarf as you began mentally preparing yourself for seeing Azriel. Eris you could handle - he was cruel, but manageable. He never pretended to be something he wasn’t. But Azriel kept popping in and out, handling you delicately and with care before shattering you unexpectedly. Your heart was beating faster at the thought of seeing him, while also sinking deep into your stomach.

Your eyes followed the cobblestones, being mindful of any patches of ice, too busy to notice until you were right in front of him that it wasn’t Cassian you had seen. His blue chest siphon m was the first thing you saw, a soft expletive leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“Hello to you too.”

You finally looked up, his shadows peeking out from the collar of his leathers, tracing up his neck in beautiful patterns. You nodded in greeting.

“Where’s Cassian?”

“We’re heading straight for Spring, so I told him I could come by and get you.”

It was painfully silent as the two of you stood there, Azriel’s head moving constantly to try to catch your eye. His annoyance flared up in your chest, and you were too absorbed in it to shut it down.

“Talk to me.” His voice was pleading, but with a sharp edge.

“I don’t want to.” Your tone was petulant, a childishness to it that was uncommon.

“Why not?”

“You’ve made your opinion of me very clear. Besides, don’t you need Eris’s permission to talk to me first?” He sighed, the siphon on his chest glowing slightly. “Surely he’ll be upset you had to hold onto me to winnow here. Maybe he’ll have soap on hand to scrub your hands of me once and for all.”

“You’re being childish.”

“Can we just get this over with? I know why we’re here and I don’t exactly want to linger for a long time.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at the curtness in your tone, but you couldn’t be bothered with niceties anymore. You were exhausted of chasing after him, begging for his attention, just for it to always be on Eris. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could move on.

He reached his hands out, gently scooping you into his arms. You took care not to dive nose first into his neck like last time, not wanting his scent to overpower you or make you spiral further.

The bond inside of you was rattling in your ribcage, desperate for you to fight, to snark, to do something to get Azriel’s attention. But you blocked it out, only looking ahead for the entirety of the flight.

The two of you landed in the familiar spot, an earthy scent clinging to the air. The spot was empty, and you felt Azriel’s stomach drop in disappointment at the knowledge through the bond. Your hand rubbed across your face before you quickly tampered down the bond, not wanting to know how they’re feeling about this.

The two of you waited for several minutes. The chittering of the forest was loud, heightening the awkward silence. It was so green and bright in Spring, the plant growth nearly blinding after the intense snowfall Night had been experiencing.

You felt Azriel’s eyes on you, hazel irises unwilling to depart from your form. Your name was a soft exhale from his lips, a pleading tone that would have sent past you spiraling. It only furthered your resolve.

“Don’t do that. I’m only here out of duty to Rhysand. My High Lord asked this of me, and frankly, it’ll likely be the last time Eris ever sees me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m done. Clearly the Mother was wrong and clearly you and Eris both know that. It’s just taken me until now to figure that out myself.”

“That’s not true.”

You finally looked at him. Your beautiful, beautiful mate, who had always been so kind to you. He had been nothing more than a charade, a carefully crafted story to deter from his actual mate. You straightened your shoulders to gather your words, trying to voice your exact thoughts.

“No, Azriel. I’m done being your second choice, I’m done being strung along. I don’t want that for me, and as my mate, you shouldn’t want it either. So treat me with the respect I deserve and recognize I’m only here because of Rhys’s asking. You and Eris have made your opinions of me very clear.”

Azriel opened his mouth, but rage flew from yours. The dam had broken, and now a flood was headed directly for the shadowsinger.

“Was it just so I wouldn’t say anything about you and Eris? Was that why you kept stringing me along? Keep your precious bond between you and Eris, keep it to yourselves, I no longer want any part of it.” It felt incredible to say the words aloud, to try to get the point across. But his face twisted with anger, his wings twitching behind him.

“You were never just a secret keeper. You’re my friend, you’re important to me. I told you about Eris in an effort to show you something! I’m trying to reprioritize, but it’s hard.”

For the first time in ages, a shadow moved from Azriel’s body, swirling around you. You were too caught up to notice the little thing, its attempts to calm you down failing.

“Azriel, when have you ever prioritized me? Every time something happens, you’re gone.”

“What do you want me to do? Eris is my mate.”

“And what am I?”

The question cut through Azriel, slicing between his ribs, the pain fracturing through his chest. He didn’t get a chance to reply before Eris materialized in the woods.

Eris was in more regal attire now, a vest covering his tunic that was likely thousands of hours of embroidery. The stiff collar made his jawline seem sharper, his features even more cutting in such regalia. Eris blended into the trees, making the natural world bend a knee to his beauty.

“I see the two of you are incapable of leaving me alone.” He didn’t even look at the pair of you, looking instead at his manicured nails. Filed to a point, the red polish made it look as if blood were dripping from his fingertips.

“Eris, stop.”

“It’s fine, Azriel. I came on your invitation, after all. What is this most pressing matter?”

“We need to talk.”

“Think of that all by yourself?”

“Shut up, Eris. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know anything going on in your life as of late.”

You looked up, surprised at that tidbit. Maybe you weren’t the only one uncertain of where you stood with the shadowsinger.

“I’m trying to figure it out, Eris.” Azriel’s words were icy, coming from some deep, dark depths of himself.

“What is there to figure out?”

The pause after Eris’s question was too still. The forest was quiet, all birdsong gone. Not even insect chittering to fill the gaps. The world was still outside of the three of you. You looked up into the canopy above you, a chill going down your spine.

“Azriel, I asked you-“

The sound that cut off Eris was a quick burst of wind as an arrow came whizzing past. Azriel was the first to move, pushing you onto the ground, his body laying on top of yours, sheltering you. You pushed against him, trying to get up, trying to see, but he wasn’t budging. Panic flooded you as his wings formed a cocoon around the two of you, what should have been a womb of safety felt more like a cage.

Wood splintered as arrows hit trees, impossible to tell how many fae were targeting the three of you. It sounded like hundreds of arrows, each whizzing past at speeds that could easily kill.

Your breathing quickened as a new worry overtook you: had Azriel been shot? Was he injured?

And where was Eris?

Azriel grunted into your ear, his body jolting. His arms cradled your head, not even a slither of light coming through. This darkness was so different from the one that followed Azriel. It felt nearly suffocating, not even his shadows pittered about in it. It felt cold and hopeless

You could hear the roar of flames beyond the shelter of Azriel’s body, the crackling getting closer to the pair of you. Sweating and breathing heavy, it felt like Azriel’s body weighed even more. You tried to push him off again, but your ragged breathing made it even harder.

Something reached through Azriel’s body, a warm touch gripping your wrist. A flicker of light made it through, not enough for you to see anymore than a blinding white. Suddenly the world shifted, the mud beneath you hardening into wood floors. Azriel’s body was heavier now, his weight digging into you.

“Push.” A muffled voice came from somewhere beyond Azriel, nearly muffled by his body. Fear struck through you - was this whoever had ambushed you? Was Azriel the intended target and you were simply a bystander?

Or was Eris the target, carted off to some court while they dealt with the witnesses?

Despite the panic, your heart tugged in the direction of the voice, practically guiding your arms to push Azriel from you. As you did, more and more light filtered to your eyes, his shadows clinging tight to his body, securing their master’s wounds.

Pale hands wrapped around Azriel’s torso, and you thought you’d never be so happy to see the ring clad fingers of the Vanserra. It took a moment, but Eris was able to lift Azriel enough for you to crawl out from beneath him.

You glanced over Eris, the only injury to be seen were cuts on his face and arms. Relief flooded you at the sight of him, your breaths still shallow. You felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins, only speeding up with the lack of danger. The cabin was dark around you, the place seeming more empty than when you were here last.

“Aren’t you a healer?” Eris had been speaking to you for several moments by this point, his words a buzzing you couldn’t make out until now.

“Yes.”

“Then help him.”

You were frozen, unable to do anything other than look at your hands. You had never been in combat before - during the Battle of Hybern you had been left in the city to run the clinic, the only one left behind.

Azriel’s blood was on your hands, sinking into your skin. Are your bones marked red now?

“Useless.” Eris was a wildfire, moving quickly down the hall before coming back, his arms full of tonics and bandages. The sight snapped you back, your thoughts coming in full force at what to do. You stood, moving quickly to stop Eris.

“Stop, you need to give him some pain medication first.” You rifled through the bottles and bits, each of Azriel’s labored breaths making your heart sink further and further.

“No, we need the arrows out of his back, they’re killing him.”

“I can give him some medicine to manage the pain first. Removing the arrows will mean we’ll have to act quick to stop the blood. It’s better to give him something for the pain now.” Your voice took a sharp edge, the commanding tone of someone in charge. “Then we take out the arrows in his wings.”

Eris’s face was hard as he looked toward you, no doubt hating you even more. Azriel dove to protect you - his state now should have been you. You found the bottle you needed, it’s not as strong as you’d like, but it’s the best you can do.

“Azriel, you have to swallow this.” Your hand gently caressed his cheek, letting him know someone was there. He slowly opened his mouth, allowing you to pour the purple liquid down it. The grimace he made almost made you laugh, like this were any other time, having him eat something unappetizing because Nesta had made it.

Fire stung at your fingers, but you ignored Eris as Azriel finished the potion.

“Okay, we need to trim off the tops of the arrows so we can pull them out more easily. Eris, find a knife and use your fire to sterilize it.”

He started to open his mouth, but you leveled him with a stare that had him quickly closing it.

“Are you going to waste our time by second guessing everything I tell you? If you bothered to let Azriel tell you anything you would know I work directly beneath the court’s healer and am quite competent.”

Eris’s sharp canines protruded from his mouth, a low growl emitting from him, but no more protests as he heated a knife.

“Az, we’re going to cut off the arrow heads and remove them from your wings. Can you stretch your wings out for me?” You rubbed your thumb across his cheek, trying to offer any tenderness he could hold onto.

He nodded so softly you hardly noticed it, his wing unfurling ever so slowly. It didn’t extend fully, but he got about three fourths of the way there.

“I’m going to help you stretch it out this last bit, okay? I need to see all of your wings to help.” You sent a light pulse of what you hoped was soothing down the bond before closing it off again, bending to rest on your knees as you sat in front of his left wing.

Several arrows had pierced through the delicate membrane, but only four remained caught in his wings. You swallowed down your guilt - it wasn’t what Azriel needed now. He needed Madja’s apprentice, not his rejected mate right now. You took a deep breath before extending his wing further, ignoring Azriel’s groans of pain.

“Eris, hold his wing taut.” The uncertainty slipped off like a second skin, making way for the commanding presence you took on for the care of your patients. Once Eris had his wing, you took the hot knife from his hand, quickly and methodically snipping off the heads of the arrows, making sure to hold the base to keep it stabilized before pulling each one out.

You pulled the wood slowly, trying to keep the wood from grazing his skin again. Each arrow went into a pile behind you until his left wing was clean of them, the holes they left the only reminder of them. The two of you repeated the process for his right wing, this one only having three arrows in it, the extraction going much more quickly.

“Is he still awake?” Eris shuffled before a grunt of agreement came from Azriel.

“Azriel, we have to move to the arrows on your back. It’s going to hurt, but we’re going to move fast.” You looked back to the bottles of potions Eris had found, searching for anything that could help Azriel clot faster or sanitize the wounds.

“Why didn’t we do his back first? It’s worse and the arrows are draining him.”

“Because I’m not sure how much blood he’s going to lose. It was a 50/50 gamble, either way.”

“A gamble? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing, Eris! I’m dealing with a squabbling family member who thinks they know better and are keeping me from my job. My job right now is to save his life, not argue with you over semantics. Now either shut up or get out.”

You don’t even watch to see his response, your attention solely on Azriel again. Your hands worked of their own accord, rubbing potions across his back, careful around the protruding arrows. You eventually looked up to find Eris just staring at you.

“Have him drink this.”

Eris took the vial, coaxing it down Azriel’s throat, murmuring softly to the shadowsinger.

“Do you have any towels or rags? We’ll need as many as you have.” Your hands felt down his back, his skin riddled with scars, each one telling a story. You couldn’t fixate on them - how the small nick by his third rib was made by steel a little over a century ago. The sideways gash across his fourth vertebrae made from a carbon blade roughly twenty years prior.

You focused on his current wounds, pinpointing how far the arrows have lodged themselves. You closed your eyes, feeling for his body. A path unfurled in your mind’s eye, following the layers of tissue and muscle the arrow penetrated.

Both arrows avoided the soft, delicate organs housed in his chest, but the longer they stayed inside, the likelihood they’d cause more damage to him.

“Eris, as I remove the arrows, I need you to immediately place rags on the wound. The arrow didn’t pierce any organs, but it cut through several veins. Is Azriel still awake?”

“Yes,” it came out as a croak, so different from Eris’s usual snark and calm.

Eris was ready as you pulled the arrow out, quick and unflinching. A spurt of blood followed the arrow, shooting onto you before Eris covered the wound.

“I can either move onto the next one or start trying to close this one up.” You were muttering to yourself, trying to decide on a course of action.

“The faebane in the arrowhead will make his healing take longer, it’d be better to pull it out.”

The faebane from the arrows was already swimming through Azriel’s bloodstream, but Eris was right - the sooner it comes out, the better for Azriel. You nodded to Eris.

“Right. Keep holding pressure while I pull this other one out. Then we’ll switch sides and I’ll start working on healing him.”

The second arrow was much messier, Eris’s rags darkening with blood much more quickly. The air held a copper tang that was getting stronger by the minute, your concern rising with it.

“Eris, do you know how to count heartbeats?” You don’t even watch for a response before you start explaining. “Count how many times his heart beats for a minute, and then keep repeating. After a few times you’ll know if his heart rate is steady or not.”

You focused on one wound at a time, magic making its way through Azriel’s skin, slowly stitching up the path of destruction the arrowhead forged. It was slow work, his body fighting against the faebane with every breath.

Every ten minutes or so you made Eris help Azriel drink water, hoping the fluids will help wash out the toxin. Each time he did, he’d also make a call out of Azriel’s heart rate.

Azriel remained unconscious, his heart rate changing drastically every few minutes. It had dropped quickly a time or two, causing Eris to panic, but Azriel’s heart rate never got below a threshold, always staying where it could manage.

The sun had set at some point, the cabin surrounded by darkness. Your hands ached from stillness, your joints crying out to move even just a little, but you refused, remaining steadfast. You were a conduit for the magic that lived inside you, magic that was slowly stitching Azriel back together again.

“Here.” Eris sat next to you, holding the cup of water before your face. You hadn’t heard him move, too focused on Azriel. You shook your head, pointedly looking down to your hands.

“I can’t.”

“I can help you.” You looked to find a new expression on his face, something you’re not sure anyone had ever seen on the male. As much as cruelty sharpened his cheekbones, the softness of his eyes made him nearly blinding in the moonlight. You nodded, unable to speak. He held the cup up to your lips, the cold liquid refreshing as it trailed down your throat. Your hands remained on Azriel, but you gulped down the entire cup, not realizing just how parched you were.

Eris pulled the cup away, settling in next to you. More time passed, all of it a blur as you kept your focus on Azriel. Neither of you spoke. Azriel’s face was pale, from blood loss or his shadows having gone missing, you’re not sure.

You slumped back against the couch, rolling your stiff neck. Azriel’s wounds weren’t perfectly healed, but your magic had repaired his blood vessels enough to allow you a break.

It was easy to get swept up in healing - you have a focus, a goal. You know what steps to take next. But as Azriel’s breathing remained strong and steady, yours became shallow. The reality of the day hitting you all at once, Eris’s warmth from next to you making you feel claustrophobic.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your words were quiet, not much louder than Azriel’s breathing. He was still so close to you, his eyes closed as he laid there. He looked so peaceful.

A month ago you would have salivated at the idea of touching him for hours, but now the smell of his blood made you want to throw up the contents of your stomach.

“He’s yours, Eris. I can’t - you won. I’ll go away, move to the continent to be as far away as possible.” A soft confession that had been lingering in the back of your mind the whole day. You were foolish to believe you could best Eris, completely underestimating the deep well Azriel and Eris’s mating bond ran to.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“You despise me. If you feel anything like I do, you want me gone.”

Eris was still, his heat nearly unbearable despite the distance between you two. It was so hard to breathe around him, as if he were drawing in all the air for himself.

“He doesn’t want me. I’m tired of fighting for his attention when his mind always goes back to you. He was my friend for so long, and the fact he can just toy with me like this.. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

All you could hear was Eris’s breathing, but you knew he was listening.

“He was my friend and now I’m- well, I don’t know what I am. He’s going to pick you, Eris. He doesn’t want me.”

The confession you had been holding so tight slipped from your tongue like silk. The words sent the bond in your chest into a chorus of screams, their agony the perfect soundtrack to your turmoil.

“Say the word and he’s yours.”

For once, Eris was quiet, no words coming from his mouth. He only shook his head, the movement so precise and imperceptible you thought you dreamt it. You looked back at Azriel, needing to prepare to winnow the two of you away.

Coated in his blood, you had to leave sooner rather than later - Rhysand is surely on the cusp of worry, and there was only so much explaining you could do without forfeiting the cabin.

You watched Eris as you grabbed Azriel’s hands, his eyes reflecting all the hurt you’ve felt the past few weeks. Eris was the easy choice to be mad at - you were tied to Azriel, Eris was just some male tethered to the other end of your mate. But watching him keep his gaze on Azriel, some part of your anger to the redhead cracked, allowing the words to come from you.

“I’ll bring him back to you. He’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

Eris’s face hardened as the world blurred, your grip on Azriel strong as the ground gave out beneath you, the wood flooring exchanged for the hard stone of the House of Wind. The two words followed you through space and time, ringing in your ears.

Those two words broke you completely, every ounce of sorrow and pain breaking through. There were no soft cries, only guttural wailing.

It was Nesta you saw first, having followed the loud commotion throughout the house. She found you gripping Azriel, softly crying out to him before she pulled deep in her chest to get Cassian’s attention.

She crouched next to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulder as fat tears rolled down your face.

The bond cried out in pain, practically pleading with you to change your decision, but you knew it was the right choice. Once he healed enough, you’d sever it. You had to. Someone had to put an end to the madness, and you could do what Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel almost died because of this stupid arrangement.

Too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when Cassian or Rhysand arrived, their voices indistinguishable to the inner anguish you felt. You were exhausted, your soul crying out in pain. You swore you could hear tiny cries echoing how you felt.

Through the thick fog of your thoughts, you heard Cassian’s voice clear as a bell.

“I bet Eris is behind this. Bastard tricked us.” You crouched over Azriel, becoming even more defensive of the Illyrian. It was a ridiculous stance, trying to shield him from his brother, but you couldn’t help it.

“It wasn’t Eris.” It came out more as a snarl that sent Cassian reeling back. “I don’t know who, but they- it was bad and- Eris winnowed us away to some clearing.”

Your pleas were gut wrenching, anger dissipating and making way for what you had pushed too far down to heal him.

“Azriel’s bandaged.”

“Eris left and got us supplies. He came back for us. He wouldn’t do this, you have to believe me.” You were sobbing now, clutching Azriel’s arm to your chest like that would fix everything. Your breaths were quick, bringing in enough air to sob once more.

“He didn’t - and Azriel-“ arms wrapped you from behind, gently pulling you into their embrace. The smell of leather and sweat enveloped you, Cassian’s strong arms slowly pulling you from Azriel.

You were blubbering now, mostly cries of Eris’s name over and over. You were scared and full of guilt for Azriel, but your mind kept playing that tender moment between Eris and Azriel over and over again. Your heart cried out for the redhead, a deep well of sadness that you had to pull him away from his mate.

Footsteps retreated away from you, but you reached out, clinging to Azriel’s sleeve to remind yourself he was still there.

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A/N: if you’ve read this far, just know I’m a bit on the fence about this part so don’t be mean to me 🔫

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part four

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, nudity, horniness

Summary: despite the disastrous turn last night took, life continues on. Maybe, just maybe Eris’s treatment of you has Azriel reconsidering things.

Author’s note: happy birthday to me! I’m giving you all angst. Your anguish is the best present I could ask for 🫶🏻 (ps eventually things will be shifting, I promise the angst train has an end in sight)

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The rest of the night had been terrible. After retiring to your room, you bathed quite angrily, splashing water all over the room, uncaring at the mess you made. Even the calming atmosphere of your bathroom did little to improve your mood. You wanted to be more destructive, wanted to throw the bottles of product that lined your bathtub. You added smelling salts and bubbles, lit candles, did everything to calm yourself. In spite of it, adrenaline and jealousy kept pumping through your veins.

It wasn’t just anger and jealousy threatening to tear you apart - the emptiness you felt in your chest made you contemplate sticking your head beneath the water. The once strong mating bond that consumed your every thought was silent, the spot it occupied in your chest feeling like it would collapse in on itself at any moment. Even during your week of avoiding Azriel, some primal part of you still relished in the feeling of him in your chest, at least just knowing he was there.

But now he wasn’t and the bath felt more alone.

Your vexation carried you from the bath to your bed, making it impossible to even read Azriel’s latest journal. You were angry and worried, stuck staring at your ceiling all night, begging for the goddess of sleep to take you under.

She must have taken pity on you at some point, but your sleep still hadn’t been enough. Your eyes were heavy when you woke, head pounding as you went about your day. Most of it was spent with Madja, brewing potions and salves to drop off to patients at the end of the day. The healer had a few appointments with longtime patients, so you spent the afternoon alone finishing drafts and brews. The silence didn’t bother you as much today - your anger long gone, its departure making ample room for the growing hole in your chest.

Overthinking and doubt kept your mind occupied as you went through the motions of bottling and labeling. Would you see Azriel today? His sudden departure last night left your skin burning from his withdrawn touch.

The mating bond was still silent as you worked, a first in the months since the bond had made itself known to you. You passed, a thought overtaking you.

Azriel had seemed startled to know about it, but had he been feeling you inside of his chest since he found out the truth? Or was his chest a tangle of yours and Eris’s emotions? Presently they were likely the same emotions, if Eris’s anger at seeing you was anything to go off of.

You couldn’t drag out the bottling forever, eventually reaching the end with many more thoughts to untangle and work through. A sigh escaped from your lips, but you checked all the vials, ensuring every fae you were supposed to see today had a matching vial. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The deliveries wouldn’t be too difficult, only a moment of interaction with each patient, but the turmoil you felt made the simple task seem monumental.

How were you supposed to chat with these fae and pretend everything was fine when you had a mate out there who was betrothed to another?

The breath helped you feel slightly better, but it was more difficult than you’d like to admit to take that step out into the sun, the brightness nearly blinding after your night of solitude and sadness.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as you expected. You ran all around Velaris, your feet more sore with each delivery, the pain a new thing to fixate on. The bright sun had made the throbbing in your head worse, the bright reflections off of windows making you squint as you walked the streets.

Your lack of sleep did little to help your mood, but you tried to put on a happy front for the fae you saw semi-regularly. Sleeping tonics, tonics to prevent chills or locking joints, even energy boosting tonics rattled about in your pouch as your boots hit the cobbled streets.

At some point the sun had become hidden by clouds, making the journey a little less intense.

The last potion had been dropped off, just in time for a light snow to begin to fall. You huffed out a breath, watching the air in front of your face steam up from the heat. You smiled, thinking of the tales from childhood of dragons fanning out breaths of fire.

Your chest opened up, the subtle feeling that was Azriel crept back inside, nestling deep within you. His presence in your chest was comforting, a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone.

You turned your attention back to the path ahead only to find the shadowsinger himself where you were headed, his large wings tucked in behind himself, a polite smile on his face. Gone was the anger that dropped your hand and coated the silence, replaced now with as much joy as Azriel puts on display when out in public.

Seeing Azriel at the end of the road once more was a welcome surprise. Every day that you worked he waited for you there before flying the two of you back to the House of Wind. At first you had apologized profusely each time he came, worried he found it tedious and would resent you for it. After the routine of it fell into place, you had stopped apologizing.

Once Azriel had been away, unable to collect you, he sent Cassian in his stead. His brother was not nearly as gentle as he was during the flight, your face more green once you landed at the House.

The next day Azriel had been waiting for you, a box of pastries in apology. The taste of powdered sugar filled your mouth as you remembered him flying you to a park, sharing with him the sugary sweets.

When you had left for work this morning, you thought he would have forgotten to do it, hiding himself away once more. Maybe the Mother made you two mates because she found the two most avoidant fae and thought it would be funny to stick them together, her favorite form of entertainment watching the two of you find one reason or another to avoid each other.

Once you got close enough, you smiled up at him, a weight of worry about him sliding from your shoulders into the thin patch of snow.

“Hi Az.”

He smiled in return, not a trace of the previous day on him. It felt almost like a dream the way he had pushed you aside so quickly.

“How was your day?”

“My feet hurt. I’ve been every which way in Velaris today dropping off restocks.” You don’t mention the previous day, your lost sleep, your being locked out of your bond, or your resolution to beat Eris for Azriel’s affections. You stuck to a safe topic. “I think my boots lost their conformity to my feet in the week I took off.”

He chuckled, wings shaking slightly. The smile made him so beautiful against the snowy backdrop, his black wings and dark skin against the glistening snow making him more radiant. His shadows trailed lazily in the cracks of the cobblestone around you, several of them lingering in your shadow. One bold shadow lingered behind you, swirling where the shadow of your lips laid.

“May I escort you back to the house? Unless there was something else you needed in town.”

You paused, pretending to mull over his question. Had something happened since you saw him almost twenty four hours ago? Had he discovered how terrible Eris truly was by now? You pursed your lips, trying to stop the smile on your face at the thought. A small part of you hoped that wasn’t the case - you were prepared to go to the ends of the earth to compete with Eris Vanserra, ready to prove your worth as a mate to Azriel. Gloating to the redhead was the ultimate goal.

A forfeit from the Autumn heir seemed almost in poor spirit.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Stepping forward, his shadows began curling around you, pulling you to their master. You strained your ears, certain you could almost hear a tiny voice cooing mine, mine, mine. Azriel’s warm hand pressed against your back as he lifted you with ease, pressing you tighter to his chest than normal. You were still upset, toeing that line of wanting to mention it. You looked up to find him already looking at you, his eyes shining with adoration, knocking any ill feelings from you.

“Ready?” His smooth voice was quiet, just for you. Just like he should be.

You nodded, your nose rubbing against his neck for warmth. The mating bond pulled at your chest, urging every part of you to touch him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he took off, fresh fallen snow flying once more as he flapped his wings.

You spent the entire flight focused on his face, watching the snow pile in his dark hair. His heat caused some of the snow to melt, water droplets moving down his neck to beneath his leathers. Your hands were ice without your gloves, a forgotten part of your wardrobe in your tired decision making this morning. You huddled your hands closer to him, pressing them where his chest met your body, desperate for warmth to bring life back to them.

“Almost there.” His arm tightened around you, and you felt his hand reaching out, trying and failing to reach your cold hands.

The House of Wind looked resplendent in the snow, something out of a fairytale. His wings glided through the sky, the snow sliding across the membrane. Azriel landed with practiced ease, a gentleness that kept surprising you. Instead of setting you down like he normally did, he moved forward, his steps gentle. You looked around, confused why you were still in his arms as he stepped inside the house.

“Az, what are you doing?”

“Carrying you.” You sighed as his mouth turned up slightly into a smile, clearly proud of himself for his joke. The flight had already made him shed the public persona he adopts, even in the streets of Velaris.

“I can see that, but why?” Your tone held a touch of faux irritation, only causing his smile to widen.

“Your feet hurt.”

Those words stopped all protests on your tongue. He was caring for you. For you. The thought had heat creeping up your cheeks.

Maybe he felt the same way you had about Eris. That things with you could be easy. That Eris was hard to love, hard to keep secret. But you - you were kind, his family would be much happier with your mateship than his with Eris.

He led the two of you right before your door, a shadow creeping up to twist the handle. Flurries of black slithered the floor beneath your bathroom, the sound of running water making its way beneath the door.

Azriel sat you down in a chair. He kneeled before you before he began unlacing your boots. He looked beautiful, the sight of him before you sent heat through your body.

A little moan escaped as he removed your boot, rotating your ankle to help sooth the dull ache. He started working on the other shoe until that one came off as well. He took his time, scarred hands massaging your calves, his fingers moving in soft circles.

His ministrations slowly took the day off your feet, the ache duller with each passing second until he slowly tapered off, his hands lingering for a moment on your calves.

“I think you can do the rest of this.” He gestured to your clothes, and it took everything not to ask what if I want you to do it?

You were quiet instead as he stood up, dusting off his pants. Your eyes moved to his thighs, trailing to find the imprint of his cock stretching his pants. You curled your hand into a fist, trying to keep your own arousal to a minimum.

Patience.

“I’ll be in the library again, if you wish to sit with me after your bath.”

Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist. One word floated through your mind.

“Stay. Please.”

Azriel’s cheeks flushed a brilliant shade that made him so endearing in the moonlight.

“I have books you could read or you could bring your work in here.” He was starting to consider it, hesitation clear in his face. “I’d like the company.”

His shadows danced around him as he sat on the bed, waiting patiently. You stared back at him, slightly surprised it actually worked. Getting Azriel to change his mind was a feat worthy of a trophy. He was the most stubborn of his brothers, an insane feat considering your fight with Cassian over raisins months ago that he still brought up on occasion. Pushing yourself out of the chair, you kept your eyes on him.

“You could sit in the bathroom with me.”

His body stiffened, and doubt crept up your throat. Had you gone too far?

“Do you have any books to suggest?”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading before bounding over to your bookshelf, fingers gliding across spines you had abandoned these past few weeks in favor of Azriel’s journals. You quickly find one you know he’d enjoy - a tale of deceit and lies that see two spies falling in love despite their mistruths.

You thrusted the book into his hands, your fingers meeting his before slowly peeling your hands away and turning to the bathroom. A few shadows curled around your ankles as you went, their cool caresses sending heat through your body.

You tossed your hair on top of your head quickly, leaving your outer clothes in a pile on the floor before sliding into the warm water. The comfort the bath provided began instantly, your muscles relaxing.

A shadow squeezed between the door and floor, its entrance dramatic and impossible to miss. You peered over the bathtub as it approached you, reaching your hand out to pet it.

“He can come in.” The shadow hesitated, staying in your proximity, lavishing in your praise as you kept stroking along it. It felt cool and like a contained breeze. You had touched Azriel’s shadows before and they generally had two states - a more solid form like now, where it feels like you’re touching it, and a more loose form, where your hand would pass right through it.

The shadow stretched out like a cat, black wispiness elongating before it finally moved back beneath the door. A moment passed before Azriel walked through the bathroom, his boots loud on the tile. He passed quickly, finding the wall opposite where you faced, sitting and leaning his back against it. A smile crossed his lips as he met your eye before opening the book, sinking slightly further into the floor.

It felt so domestic to be in the tub while he read. The slight musk of his arousal clung to you, the intoxicating scent driving you wild. It wasn’t inherently sexual to be naked in the bath while he sat a few feet away.

Thoughts raced as you thought of the daily routine this could become - the way his hands would trail down your body, helping you with buttons and laces, your own fingers working to undo the intricacies of his leathers. He could be in the tub with you right now, his strong chest behind you as you two read or gossiped about the day.

There’d be a lull, a domestic quiet that say Azriel’s hands moving beneath the bath water, stroking up your thigh, closer and closer to right where you needed him.

You were sure this present version of Azriel could smell you in the room and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or not he hadn’t mentioned it. His eyes stayed focused on the book in front of him, flipping pages on occasion.

The water stayed warm, but you were tired of Azriel’s focus never making its way to you. A shadow curled around his ear as you reached out of the tub, your towel just a bit past arm’s reach. Azriel’s hand wrapped around the towel, gently unfolding it and holding it out, waiting for you to step into it. You looked up at him, the red tips of his ears the only hint at the effect this has on him.

He looked away as you stood up, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as the water splashed in the tub.

You reached your hands out, using his arms for balance as you stepped out, guiding his hands to wrap the towel around you.

Azriel finally looked back down, his hazel eyes almost black as they met yours. Your hand met his chest, needing his sturdiness to keep your legs from giving out. The low light of the bathroom cast shadows throughout his face, the darkness an endless part of him.

Scarred hands reached up and held your face with such delicacy you almost melted. The water was still in the tub behind you, no sound to be heard save for the anticipation drumming your heart rate.

His lips were so close to yours, one lone shadow moving between your shared breaths, exacerbating the distance between you two. You prepared yourself - breathing in and out, about to push forward, make the leap, when a sharp inhale stopped you.

“I can’t.” Azriel didn’t move, his eyes pained with turmoil. Somewhere deep in your chest your heart shattered, the pieces falling to your stomach. “I can’t cross that line. Not without Eris.”

“Eris?” You said his name as if it was a deadly plague.

Him?

If Eris was still in the picture, why had Azriel come to find you? Why had he been so kind? Why had he treated you with a tenderness you’ve only experienced from lovers?

“I can’t betray him like this. Not after everything.” His hands gripped your waist tighter, as if by sheer force he could change the circumstances.

“I don’t understand, Az. I’m your mate too.”

“Yes, but I haven’t made any promises to you.”

The shattered pieces of your heart were splintering, the pain radiating through your torso, the string around your heart squeezing so tight it was threatening to kill you.

“So I’m once again punished for not being first in line with the mating bond.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You had to look away from him, unable to look at the pleading in his eyes any longer. What he wanted - you to leave, you to stay, for all of this to be different - you didn’t know.

“It’s certainly what I’m hearing. If you can’t be with me because of Eris, why did you seek me out?”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“When was it not intentional? You brought me home, you made me a bath. You helped me out of my clothes, Azriel! That’s not something I’d let Cassian do!”

The soft growl Azriel let out at his brother’s name gave you pause.

“I didn’t do that out of friendship.”

“Then what was it out of?”

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing, indecision laying on his tongue. A shadow nudged his back in encouragement, something he didn’t find. He was grasping, searching for something that never came.

Each beat of your heart caused you to sink further and further into despair.

“Well, if you don’t even know why you’re here, maybe you should leave.”

A wing twitched over his shoulder, but no other part of him moved for a whole minute. The silence was almost painful, his shadows floating in the still air until they were disturbed by their master turning his grip loose on you, leaving you alone once more.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears 🫶🏻

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part three

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, some violence

Summary: after a week of avoiding talking to him, Azriel invites you out for a meeting that only leaves you with a more urgent sense of jealousy

Author’s note: happy new year’s eve!! I know it hasn’t been too long since the last part, but I wanted to spread some holiday joy! This year has been awful but my time online and the friends I’ve met through here have been so lovely and kind and you guys have gotten me through a lot do here’s some pain!

Last part | Next part | Masterlist

Your conversation with Nesta left you reeling, some deep part of you rattled at her words. A deep loneliness settled in you after she left, a swirling storm of anger and jealousy threatening to fester into a hurricane out on the balcony.

‘He’s a challenge on his best days.’

Why had the Mother given her most loyal follower a mate who was so difficult? Weren’t mates supposed to be a blessing?

Rhys and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian - they all had their own fair share of turbulence. You remembered the stories from Mor about Feyre throwing her shoes at Rhysand, or Nesta’s seemingly complete apathy around Cassian.

The journals left you confused, both smitten and giddy and a deep questioning of should it be this hard? Azriel and Eris had already seen the worst of each other and still chose and defended their bond. Would the same be said of you if Azriel saw your faults? Or would one flawed mate be enough for him?

Would another fae be able to look past your status as a second choice? Would you be able to even look at other fae if Azriel rejected you?

It had only been a few weeks since the bond had snapped for you, but in that time you didn’t notice other fae. They were just background characters, no one in particular ever catching your notice.

Except Eris. That was nothing though - merely Azriel’s feelings about him swirling within you.

None of it made any sense, your body subconsciously leaving the balcony and moving to find Azriel, repeating to yourself that an answer laid in one of his journals. You stopped by your room to gather the journal before following the bond to find the shadowsinger alone in the library. He looked incredible - his large wings stretched out over the black leather, the definition of his body evident through his loose fitting clothes. He was hunched over a small table, flipping through a book and jotting things down on the paper next to him. All your time spent reading this past week made his handwriting a familiar sight.

“Hi Az.” You stopped before him, presenting him with your most recently finished journal. This one had contained much the same - fighting between Eris and Azriel, occasional snippets about Cassian and his drunken antics. It seemed Eris and Azriel were in a constant cycle of never getting too close, one or the other always finding some fault to keep their distance.

He accepted it wordlessly, the replacement journal ready in his lap. How you hadn’t noticed it says more about the focus of your attention than you would like.

“Expecting me?”

“You usually find me around this time.” He huffed, the slight smile on his face enough to know he’s being light hearted. You took the new journal, about to turn on your heel when you spotted the empty chair next to Azriel. You waited a moment, turning back to find him still looking at you. Your chest felt tight with vulnerability, looking back to the empty chair, something inside of you begging to sit in his presence.

It felt like a good sign finding him in the open. You usually found him in his room, his door closed in front of you once the exchange was made. But now he sat on display, his own work spread out before him. You weren’t certain you had ever seen him work so openly.

You took the sign as an invitation, sitting in a chair opposite him, the spine a harsh crack in the silent room. He did nothing more than watch, hazel eyes tracking the delicacy and respect you showed to the journal before looking back to his own notes.

It was silent save for the turning of pages and his scrawling. It felt so warm being in his presence, sharing this time with him. It was so easy to get lost in it that the next time you looked up you realized he had pulled out a fresh journal, scribbling away in it. It was a cleaner version of the one you spent every night hunched over, staying up until the last word was comprehensible to your sleep-addled brain.

“Have you ever done that in front of someone before?” You croaked the words out, throat dry from your lack of water in hours, too afraid if you got up, your return would show an empty room.

“No, I haven’t.” His scrawl hadn’t stopped, and you straightened up, trying to catch a glance of what he was writing, if your name made an appearance. Shadows swirled at the top of his journal, obscuring your vision. You looked at the shadow, a cross expression trying to threaten them. They only seemed to dance more rapidly, in agitation or preening beneath your gaze, you weren’t sure.

“None of that.”

You sank back deflated, surprised you were caught. Picking up the journal once more, you flicked to the page you had left off at, settling back in.

“You’ll see this one soon enough.” The book snapped shut at his words as you readjusted to sit back up.

“I will?” Azriel only nodded, finally looking up at you instead of the pages of his journal. His eyes darted around the room before a shadow curled around his ear. Whatever the shadow told him, he relaxed a little, his posture easing into his seated position.

“I gave them to you to understand Eris and I’s relationship. But I think it’s impossible to figure out this situation without getting completely up to date.”

You nearly salivated at the thought of Azriel’s present journals. To know what he’s thought about you this whole time, in his own words, even without knowing about the bond? Priceless.

He had said he had been interested in you, drawn to you.

Azriel smiled, a soft pulsing of the thread around your heart. Tonight had been a step forward - you didn’t want to push your luck and find out if he was pulling the cord tight in reassurance or suffocation. You kept the question to yourself, nestling into the chair and the comfort of Azriel’s scent.

-

Mindless chatter moved across the breakfast table, your eyes constantly flickering to Azriel. It was impossible to keep them off of him, his emotions roiling in your chest kept you up half the night once you had retired from the library. You had been avoiding him for a week now, and the hours spent in his company reminded you of just how nice it was to linger in his presence.

This past week had been an anomaly, one you weren’t certain your friends had noticed or not. Azriel was usually a source of company at some point during your day - a meal, transportation, or just someone to go out walking Velaris with you.

If this past week showed you anything, it was how ingrained into your daily life Azriel had become.

You looked at him again, your eyes lingering on the lack of sleep beneath his eyes. He was tired. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly- it wasn’t in his face or in his movements. Was it the bond? Was it your late night insomnia that kept him up?

Could mating bonds do that?

“Azriel, what time are you leaving?” Rhys’s question brought you from your focused gaze, waiting to hear Azriel’s response. So focused on Azriel, you hadn’t bothered pretending to even eat or notice Cassian’s glances to his own mate.

“I’m leaving in the afternoon.” Azriel’s head turned to you, his hazel eyes capturing yours in a gaze you couldn’t look away from. Where was he going? You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts you had missed the beginning of the discussion.

“I think it would be better if you came with me.” The table had turned quiet, the clattering of cutlery pausing for just a moment, all eyes slowly directed your way, waiting for your response.

So they’ve noticed this weirdness between you two.

“Are you sure, Az?” Azriel didn’t look away from you at Rhysand’s question, merely waiting for your response. Something in you was drawn to his gaze, wanting to linger in it for the rest of your days. His eyes held such softness, a look he reserved just for you.

And his other mate. The bitter thought made you grimace. Azriel and Eris had something real, something tangible that they fought for every single day.

But surely the moments in the library were also real. Not as intense or passionate, but full of a warmth you had hardly experienced before, a domesticity many would dream about.

“Yes, I will. Where are we going?”

Azriel was quick to answer, one of his shadows nearly muffling Rhysand’s voice so Azriel could be the one to respond.

“I have a meeting with Eris.” You were too focused on Azriel’s face to notice Nesta’s eyes widen imperceptibly on the other side of the table.

-

Your fingers tapped against your thigh, an anxiety coursing through you at the thought of seeing Eris again. He was something - a sharp face, even sharper tongue, decadently dressed. You hated to admit it, but you could understand why the Mother had mated him to Azriel - the two were quite possibly the most gorgeous fae in all of Prythian.

You had stayed up late again pouring over Azriel’s journals. Each notebook left you more and more territorial over him, romance pouring through every page. It was so different from the books Nesta read - the fictitious couple having grandiose gestures, no depiction of how the day to day worked.

But Azriel’s notebook was filled with longing for Eris. Recaps of long conversations they have had, almost word for word detailings of what they spoke about.

They had been together for a little over a century by now. They both fought it - Azriel all but withdrew from his family, avoiding them for over a year while he figured it out.

It took nearly a decade for them to come to terms with it - one of them never quite ready to dive in, both playing the hesitant role at different points.

It seemed one day Eris just snapped. Tired of talking in circles and exhausting every avenue, he went for it. He kissed Azriel and it spiraled from there, consummating the bond. It was a romantic tale of longing and distance and overcoming any and all odds for each other.

A story you had no business playing a part in.

Azriel pulled you from your thoughts, reaching out a hand to winnow the pair of you away. You took it, remembering all too well the last time you were gathered in his arms.

You both rematerialized in a densely packed forest, the trees so close together it was difficult to move between. You steadied yourself against Azriel, hands pressed to his broad chest. Winnowing yourself anywhere wasn’t an issue, but someone else winnowing you left you unmoored, your feet unable to find solid ground for a few seconds. The bond tightened around your heart, the beat of it speeding up at the contact.

“Come to gloat?” Your head whipped towards Eris as you yanked your hands from Azriel’s chest. You didn’t notice Azriel bringing his hands back up, reaching for you, trying to keep you close.

But Eris did. He schooled his features, looking toward Azriel with hardened eyes.

“No, I brought her so we can figure this out.”

Eris scoffed, the sound loud enough to be heard over the bird song high above the group. He stomped forward in a direct path towards Azriel, a trail of smoke in his wake.

His long red hair flowed behind him as he moved, reflecting the light of the sun so beautifully the homes of the Autumn Court could be full of portraits of the male before you and his beauty would still surprise. Your heart hammered in your chest, unable to look away from him.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you’ve been up to this past week. Trying to figure this out with her, shutting off your bond to me.” The last words came out as a whisper, the underlying accusation one Eris couldn’t bear to say. He looked almost hurt as he said it.

“Er-“ Eris cut Azriel off, pushing his back into a tree, his hands curling into the leathers. Your feet followed the action, a hot sense of protectiveness overcoming you.

“No, Azriel. You don’t get to play house with her and show up here with her.”

“She can hear you, ya know.” You pushed Eris off of Azriel, the male staggering back in shock at your actions.

“How sweet. What a waste of my time to be here if you’re going to tell me you’ve finally picked someone else when you’ve had a century to do so.”

Azriel reached out for Eris, his grip tight around Eris’s forearm. Eris tried to push Azriel away from him, but his hand remained around Eris. He pulled the redhead closer, his thumb slowly stroking over his mate’s skin. It felt so intimate you wanted to look away.

“Eris, I am not picking her. I am trying to figure this out.” Azriel’s words stung, no matter how pragmatic they were. A teeny, tiny part of you wanted to blurt out to Eris about the journals, certain it would send the Autumn male out of your life for good. The action stayed in your mind at the betrayal Azriel would feel.

Some part of you knew something so hurtful would end in Azriel having no mates.

“‘Figure this out’? What is there to figure out? Which one of us you would pick?”

“No!” Azriel’s rebuttal was frantic, his lack of sleep more prominent now in the sunlight. It didn’t stop the sun from highlighting how gorgeous his brown skin was, though. “Can’t you think past your own self for five minutes and realize my soul, my entire being is connected to the both of you?”

The words did something to Eris, causing him to finally look at you. You couldn’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks beneath his gaze, a small part of you hoping he finds something interesting. You straightened, taking the time to look over him as well. It was nearly unfair how good he looked in his riding clothes. His shirt opened just enough to see his collarbone and the top of his sternum, his pale chest decorated with freckles. His loose, billowy shirt tucked into some well fitting trousers, thighs nearly ripping the fabric.

He wasn’t as big as Azriel - a bit shorter and not nearly as broad, but he was lean and strong, and you were certain they both threw each other around the bedroom with ease.

“I suppose severing this bond would mean lifelong consequences for you.” Eris spoke to Azriel, but kept his gaze on you as he walked toward you. Heat crept up your body the closer he got, each step raising the temperature by ten degrees. It was nearly unbearable by the time he stood in front of you, so close you had to look up at him.

Eris’s anger made him more beautiful - the sharpness of his face poised and ready for attack, the red shades of anger perfectly matching his skin and hair.

Heat coursed around your neck, the flames dancing across your skin. You were enraptured with Eris, this moment only for the two of you. You could hear Azriel start to object, but paid him no notice, your full attention on Eris.

“I could end it all now, remove the most painful thorn in my side you’ve been.”

You smiled up at him, overcome with a new feeling of competition. The flames around your neck tightened, but you kept on, stepping infinitesimally closer to Eris.

“If my mere existence is a pain to you now, just wait until I’ve decided you’re worth the effort to bother. You’ve only known me for a week and already I’m worth your ire.”

“Go home to Velaris. Go be a small town healer and find a small town male for you to fake your orgasms with.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Azriel’s hands wrap around your upper arms, trying to pull you back, but you rooted yourself to the ground, pulling from his grasp.

“At least my constituents will look me in the eye out of respect and not fear. At least my patients know I had to work for my job and that I wasn’t given it because of my father!”

The flames were choking now, your breaths coming in hard and shallow. You were trying to fight it, to win whatever this was, but breathing harder and harder, fresh air a luxury you couldn’t remember.

“Eris!” Azriel all but growled as he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. You reached up, trying to pull the collar off, tried to get any air, but it was impossible.

“The Mother is absurd for mating Azriel with someone so foolish who speaks of things she knows nothing about.” Eris relinquished his power as you sagged into Azriel’s arms, but Eris cupped a hand around your jaw. His eyes burned with fury and something you couldn’t quite make out, the amber color replaced with the blown pupils of his ire.

“Az, come back to me when you’ve decided the bitch isn’t worth your time.”

Chest heaving, you squared your jaw, a rebuttal on your tongue, but Eris had turned, walking into the trees before disappearing completely into them.

He was everything Nesta had warned you he was. He was cruel, difficult, and maddening.

And if the Mother wanted Azriel to pick one of you, you would do whatever it took to beat out Eris Vanserra for Azriel’s affections.

You’re stuck so deep in your head, you don’t even notice Azriel winnow the two of you back to the House of Wind, the two of you landing in the dining room. You turned to ask him about Eris, to talk to him about how ridiculous his mate was, but Azriel had dropped your arm, winnowing away immediately after. Your hand instinctively reached out for the shadows, but it was too late.

He was gone and he left you here.

You sighed, not knowing what you expected him to do. Coddle you? Tell you Eris didn’t mean his threats? Tell you Eris is a big meanie head?

You shook the thought away, your steps soft as you made your way through the house, a journal calling your name to pour through.

Your adrenaline was wearing off, the grime of the forest stuck to your clothes making the bathtub’s siren song call to you from many rooms away.

“How was your meeting with Eris?” Nesta’s voice found you as you were about to climb the stairs, one foot raised. You spun on your heel to look at her, her face indecipherable. Just his name filled you with anger and confusion once more. How was it him that had received Azriel’s affections?

“He’s worse than you made him seem. Vile and cruel, just like everyone says.” You spat the words at her, not receiving the reaction you wanted from her. Nesta only raised her eyebrows as her nose twitched.

“Are you sure?” Your anger had flared too much to notice her strange tone or the look in her eye.

“I’m positively certain. Anyone having to spend time with that awful, awful male is a saint or somehow even worse than he is.”

She approached you, her eyes lingering on your neck. You weren’t certain if you had scorch marks or not, unsure if Eris’s wickedness scarred. She was quiet as she looked at you, eyes of silver intense as they locked onto yours. You weren’t sure if she found what she was looking for or not before she brushed past you to go to her own chambers, her words quiet in the stillness of the house.

“If you say so.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part two

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: heading back to the townhouse to wallow in self pity is thwarted when Azriel follows you. Giving a part of himself to you, can some form of amends be made?

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

You had to leave. You couldn’t stay there and look at Azriel and Eris. You felt almost like you were on trial, as if they were sizing you up to determine if you were worth their effort.

Eris - well, he didn’t act out of character from what you had been told about him. Azriel’s silence was the worst part of it all, waiting to hear him say something about wanting you, defending you from Eris’s gaze.

Instead you could hear the pause after Eris said he could convince Azriel to reject you. The callousness with how he regarded you was something you weren’t going to forget for a long time. Your chest was in pain, your heart crying out for the mate who hurt you.

You hurried down the hall, closing your bedroom door behind you, shoving a chair in front of it so Azriel couldn’t get in.

The house was silent, a fact you had appreciated only an hour ago, but now felt consumed by it. Was this how your chest would feel when Azriel rejected the bond - silent, empty, hollow?

You ripped open drawers, pulling out a bag and stuffing it with whatever clothes you thought necessary. If Azriel can pack a bag and go to a secret cabin, surely you can pack a bag and go somewhere yourself.

You had to get out of this house, at least to think, to get it all straight in your head. Maybe you could go to the Townhouse. Hardly anyone used it - you and Azriel would stay in it when Cassian and Nesta were particularly loud and longlasting.

A sharp pain shot through you at the memory - finding Azriel at the dining room table in the dead of night at the House of Wind, his shadows swirling around his ears, deep in thought. How his arms were strong around you, flying the two of you through Velaris. How the city glowed through his wings, the membranous skin so delicate and see through. How you had lingered in your bedroom door, foolishly hoping he might just kiss you.

The memory taints itself, your mouth filling with a bad taste. He had a mate when he had done that. It meant nothing to him.

He was your mate. But you weren’t his.

Tears started clouding your vision, irritating you more than anything. You wiped angrily at your face, clearing your tears just enough to see. It was chaos - you grabbed willy nilly from your underwear drawer, pulling out random pants and tops.

It was instinctual to grab for the stuffed kitty sitting on your bed. It was a birthday gift from Azriel. He was gone on a mission, but somehow the box was on your bed with a note that sat in your drawer.

‘He’ll keep you safe when I can’t’.

Damned stupid thing - didn’t protect you from this heartache. You grabbed it anyway, certain you’d want the comfort of crying into such familiarity.

You closed your bag, grabbing the handle before hustling through the house. You made it to the balcony, winnowing your way to the edge of the townhouse’s wards.

You sprinted to get inside, not wanting anyone to see the foolishness of this night on you. You made it to one of the guest rooms, shutting the door to seal yourself in. You sank to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees.

It was then you noticed your mistake. The undeniable scent of pine hit your nostrils, making your eyes well up immediately.

He had been here recently, three days ago at most. Three days ago you would have given anything to throw yourself into a bed that smelled like him, to bask in the tangling of your scents as you slept.

This was great.

Your thoughts were a war in your mind, uncertain which direction to take. To stay here, to have his scent cling to you while you cried over him felt both cathartic and overwhelming. You could move to another room, but you’d have to get up off the floor and pick up your bag and that seemed like more effort than you could handle.

You sat on the wooden floor, tears streaming down your face. This was wrong. This was all wrong. You had never heard of anyone having two mates - the Mother loving someone so much she allowed them some choice in the matter.

Maybe they did exist, but the untethered, the unwanted mate got left out of history books.

That would be you. Too late and untethered, lost to history as someone who ‘was there but not important’. Was that what you would become to Azriel? A story for dinner parties?

‘I once had two mates..’

The thought made your stomach churn.

You sat crumpled on the floor for ages, practically melding into the floor board with each staggering breath. The heartache felt endless, neverending emotional damage at the knowledge you obtained tonight.

My mate’s mate.

What a gut churning title you had become.

Your fate was to remain here for as long as it hurt.

Madja wouldn’t need you for a few days, your planned vacation from work a slap in the face at how it all turned out. You couldn’t explain to her why you were back early, and you weren’t certain the old healer would even allow you back. Madja constantly expressed how important it was for healers to rest and take time off.

Hopefully sleep will find you sooner rather than later.

Pools of darkness curled around you, tiny slithers of shadow dancing in the puddles of tears littering the floor. One of them slithered up the air, catching a tear as it fell, cradling it. The shadow held your tear with such tenderness it threatened to consume you whole.

The moment was broken by the harsh knock on the door, a desperate plea of your name from Azriel’s lips sending chills down your spine. His voice was both a cloak of comfort and the source of your anger.

You wanted him gone, you couldn’t look at him now. What did Eris Vanserra possess that made him better than you for Azriel? Because he got to him first?

“Did something happen to your mate and you came to find the spare?”

Azriel made his sigh audible through the door before dark tendrils crept in from the crack beneath the door.

“We have to talk.” His voice was strong and unwavering, something you had to be to get through this conversation before you could let yourself fall apart again.

“What’s there to talk about? The Mother gave me a mate who is already mated to someone who can’t stand me.”

“That’s not true.” The shadows grew, forming a pool that Azriel stepped out of, looking down at you. Your gaze lingered on his shoes, a more formal pair than his leather boots and what he wore around the house.

Gods, you were pathetic for knowing that.

“What part of that is a lie?”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.

“It’s technically true, but-“

“See?”

“Let me finish.” His words were resolute in the darkness, the townhouse still in the silence following his words. “It’s true. I have a mate and he is… an acquired taste. He is quick to judge and even quicker to barb with his words.”

You waited, the glutton inside of you hanging onto his every word, the anguish hungry for more fodder.

“But you… I met you and you consumed so much of my thoughts. I thought it was a crush or merely missing my mate and looking for him in others.

“But it was you. I needed to be near you. I don’t know how this works, this has never happened before. But I want to try.”

That caused you to look up, to finally see the sincerity in his eyes, to let his emotion wash over you. The bond connecting the two of you was a wave, a wall of regret and hope and sincerity so strong it threatens to blow you over.

“Azriel, I have to trust you. You are my mate, I should be able to trust you. But you kept this big secret from everyone. Why should I believe you? What would make me more than just a cover up?”

Azriel huffed, a fight occurring behind his eyes as he mulled something over. He reached a hand into one of his shadows, his arm nearly disappearing in the darkness before coming out holding a leather book with a beaten cover. He extended the book out to you, waiting until you took it from him.

The leather was cold, the spine cracked as you opened it. Every page was filled with Azriel’s near perfect penmanship. Every page dated, detailed down to what he ate in a day.

“No fae has ever seen this.” His voice was soft and unguarded before he added, “not even Eris.”

Curiosity stood at the forefront of your mind, your fingers already flicking through pages as you sat up. It didn’t surprise you that he kept such detailed depictions of his days - you would have been more surprised to know he didn’t keep detailed records. What did surprise you was him sharing this with you.

You briefly wondered if his shadows made notes for him, allowing him to transcribe the details of the day in his own thoughts and perspective. You could see him at his desk, shadows swirling and floating next to his ear, singing a song to him no one else can understand. As you flicked through it, names jumped off the page at you, every member of the Inner Circle mentioned throughout the book at some point or another.

“I have more - I have loads more. This is where it began with us - me and him. It starts somewhere in that journal - about a quarter of the way in. When you finish that one, let me know. I’ll give you the next one.”

Azriel had such a hesitant look on his face - you were certain he wanted to say more. He even stepped forward, reaching a hand out as if to speak. Instead, he merely tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before turning and walking out, shutting the door behind him.

You got the silence you wanted, but now you have a piece of Azriel laying in your hands.

-

You had stayed up most of the night reading Azriel’s journal, accompanied by a handful of shadows that had stayed behind after he left. At first they felt like an invasion of your privacy or a lack of trust from Azriel, but they responded to you like they always had: twirling in your hair, brushing soothing strokes up and down your arms, helping you with minor tasks.

It gave you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you needed.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, likely at the end of the first journal. You woke up in a daze, the journal moved off the bed, likely an act of protection from the shadows. Your head was throbbing, eyes so heavy from all your crying yesterday.

You laid still, trying to discern any noise throughout the townhouse, making sure no one else was here before trudging out of the room. Your rumpled clothes didn’t bother you as you made it to Azriel’s room, knocking softly, cursed with the bond to know he was there.

Azriel looked beautiful in the morning light, his hair sticking up in places, disturbed by his sleep, or lack thereof by the bags beneath his eyes.

“Here, I’m ready for the next one.” Azriel grabbed the journal from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the exchange. A shadow swirled beside him, a pit of darkness Azriel plunged the journal back into, returning with a near identical one before placing it in your hands.

“How can you tell the journals apart?”

“My hands are extra sensitive.”

You nodded, accepting his answer, no matter how confused it left you. Had it been a joke you didn’t understand? Would Eris have understood it? Blood roared in your ears at the thought.

It was difficult standing before him, knowing the intimacy between the pages of the journal you just read. How he and Eris all but killed each other in a fit of rage when the bond snapped, a fight that left the two broken and bloodied, nothing resolved before they slunk off to their respective courts.

It was a chance encounter - Azriel had been on the border between Spring and Autumn, moving in a cloud of shadow, trying to parse out any rumblings from the Vanserras when the eldest son caught him in a ball of fire. The bond had snapped into place when Azriel had begun choking on the smoke, Eris’s heart nearly giving out in shock, dropping the flames around Azriel. Azriel had immediately lunged at Eris, mated protectiveness out the window as they wrestled along the forest floor.

Pages and pages were Azriel writing through all of his emotions, deep rooted anger at the Mother’s chosen mate for him. It was months before they saw each other again, the entries between those meetings full of thoughts and new evaluations about Eris.

His diction changed somehow, as if having a mate had so fundamentally changed him it was impossible to not notice Eris’s influence, even though the pair weren’t together. He still detailed his days, but they felt more like letters at a point, or as if he were telling Eris about his day in extreme detail.

The romantic subtext left you queasy.

The second time they saw each other was near the end of the journal, an act of instinct. Azriel felt hot, searing pain, shooting himself into the sky, making it to the Autumn border before he got his wits about him. He had landed in their previous meeting spot, crouching to hide amongst the brush to wait.

It was agony, forced to hide, the closest to his mate he’d been in months.

The sun broke through the trees when Eris finally arrived, surely feeling Azriel’s proximity deep in his bones. The Vanserra had not been kind - he was all teeth, clacking insults at Azriel. The shadowsinger took it, not truly knowing how to respond. He couldn’t stop the intense feeling of relief at seeing Eris, the emotion so overwhelming he flew away after several moments of Eris’s abuse.

The last few pages of the journal were full of question marks, Eris’s name, and attempts at finding some code in the insults the redhead had hurled at him.

The new journal laid in your hands, full of a story you wanted to watch unfold.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Azriel nodded, “thank you for being the first person I trusted to share this with.”

You wanted to ask, wanted to know why Eris hadn’t seen it. The two had been mated for years at least, if their domesticity was anything to go off of. Feyre and Rhys were two of the only mates you knew and you couldn’t fathom them keeping their own journals and musings from each other.

Much less share them with someone else.

Azriel looked down at you, his eyes wanting to desperately share something with you, but it was impossible to know what it was.

You bowed your head before turning on your heel, hoping to find more answers in the book you held.

-

It was a few days before you decided to leave the townhouse, Azriel joining you without telling him that you were returning to the House of Wind. The morning you were going to go back, he had merely been standing in the foyer waiting for you.

Nesta and Cassian would be back in a few days and you needed a change of scenery. The townhouse had began feeling too small, Azriel’s scent no longer lingering on your sheets, making your heart ache in a new way.

The flight back had been slightly awkward, the silence filled with the sounds of leather as your mind and body battled, tugging back and forth between leaning into him and pulling as far away as possible.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since the two of you landed a few hours ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t around somewhere. You opened the balcony doors, sitting out on the lounge chair, looking into the vast and endless sky of stars above you. You were so small beneath them, your problems somehow miniscule but all consuming.

You had finished another journal, probably journal number five at this point. Not quite ready to exchange it for the next one, fresh air beckoned to you.

The air was cold, but not harsh as it filled your lungs. It helped clear your thoughts, the frigid temperatures helping slow down your overactive mind. You now had some idea of Azriel and Eris’s beginnings - you weren’t anywhere near their acceptance of the bond, but it was clear how every slope of Azriel’s pen had been in thought of Eris. He now rushed through his days, giving as much as detail as before, but now it felt like a necessary evil to get to the subject he truly wished to discuss: Eris. The door to the balcony opened, causing you to go rigid.

“Relax.” Nesta’s hard voice surprised you, expecting it to be Azriel. You turned in your chair, delighted to see the valkyrie.

“What are you doing here?”

“In my house?” She smirked, moving to sit next to you. “We came back from Day a little early. There’s supposed to be a rain shower tomorrow and Cassian didn’t want to fly in it.”

It felt like a lifetime had passed since you saw Nesta last, a little over a week ago. She seemed brighter, a likely side effect of spending any time in Day.

“And how is your mate?”

“Miserable. He got sunburnt.” You laughed at the mental image of a red and crispy Cassian, certain he was making it as much of a problem for everyone else. “Emerie had a good laugh about it.”

It felt good to be in someone else’s presence for the first time in days. You hadn’t realized just how isolating this past week had been, your only companion the shadow that remained tucked in your hair and the journal of your mate’s past.

“How was your week with Azriel?” Nesta’s tone felt accusatory, like she was fishing for something she already knew. If she had any notions about you and Azriel, she didn’t confess them to you.

“Quite lonely, actually. I’ve hardly seen him.”

“A pity.” She leaned back in the seat next to you, stretching out her legs. “Do anything interesting?”

“I’ve mostly been reading.”

Nesta sat back up, her interest focused back on the conversation. “Anything good?”

“It’s mostly history books - I’ve read a good bit about the Autumn Court. It sounds beautiful.” It was the truth - you couldn’t bring yourself to call it a romance, certain Nesta would want to know more about it. She slumpt down once more, her interest lessened as she sat back.

“What do you think of Eris?” The question slipped out, a byproduct of having been alone all week. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Vanserra?”

You nodded. “Is there any truth to what they say about him?”

“I’m not sure. He’s smart and slippery. I think Rhysand is slightly afraid of him because of that, but he’d never admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That if Eris so chose, he could certainly concoct a scheme and outsmart Rhysand.” You bit your lip, certain that with their mating, Eris had outsmarted Rhysand.

“What’s he like?”

“The most difficult fae alive.” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. “He’s a challenge on his best days.”

“Pity the fae mated to him.” Your words come out strong for the first time in this discussion, but some deep part of you knows it’s the biggest lie of the evening. If Azriel’s journals leave you with anything, it’s that Eris Vanserra is a loyal and lethal mate, prepared to burn the world for his mate.

Her brows were merely raised in agreement, silver set on every movement you made. You felt the scrutiny of her gaze, schooling your features to give less of your heartache away.

“Are you certain you’re okay?”

You shrugged half heartedly, trying to find some reason to explain away your melancholic state.

“Endless night skies leave me restless, sometimes. So many possibilities, I’m not sure where I’d end up.”

She stood up, taking in the same view as you, but seeing something completely different.

“Not all possibilities are good ones.” She turned on her heel, heading back inside, leaving you out in the frigid cold, alone and unsure.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

A/N: ahhhh!! Part two!! I’m setting some things up so it might feel like filler but I promise the next part will be juicy 👀👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar

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Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thank your for reading ❣️

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only, only one

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.5k | warnings: none

Summary: secrets threaten to swallow you whole as you work up the courage to tell Azriel about being his mate. Unfortunately, you aren’t the only one with secrets

Author’s note: this came from a draft I found BURIED okay I was looking for a different azris x reader draft but found this and had to finish it

Next part | Masterlist

Today was the day. Everything lined up - Feyre and Rhys were at the River House hosting an overnight play date for Nyx and one of his friends. Cassian and Nesta had taken some of the Valkyries to Day to see the pegasi. Mor was somewhere on the continent. Amren was likely at her apartment, but she came by less and less frequently these days.

The sun had just set, the night sky bright and endless as it hovered over the House of Wind. You and Azriel had the entire place to yourselves.

It was a sign from the Mother. You had to tell him. You stood before your mirror, wanting every piece of hair to fall perfectly into place. You took a few deep breaths, failing to calm the beating of your heart.

Everything was going to change. You smiled at your reflection, certain that everything will work out. It had to.

So what if Azriel had pined after two females that weren’t you? That didn’t matter. Not when he was always so kind to you, seeking you out during parties. He always sat next to you at dinner, the two of you fully engaged in conversation the entire time.

His pining toward Mor and then Elain always felt strange to you. It never happened around you, you hardly saw him even glance their way. You only knew about it from Cassian’s love of gossip.

“It should be you he focuses on - the two of you are so similar. And so annoying.”

His words likely meant nothing to him - especially the end when you had stolen food from his plate. But his words echoed in your mind, echoed around the string nearly suffocating your heart.

The two of you were well suited. You complemented each other. Surely, if he didn’t love you now, Azriel could grow to love you. It should be easy.

Would you want someone who had to grow to love you? You shook the thought from your head, certain the Mother wouldn’t lead you astray like that.

Your thoughts led you outside his door. The words had laid dormant on your tongue for too long, weeks going by without admitting the truth to him.

You knocked on his door quickly, not wanting nerves to get the better of you. You couldn’t help lightly bouncing on your feet as you waited, listening to the shuffles behind the door. Each sound of footfalls made your heart rate quicken.

Azriel poked his head out the door, a small smile when his eyes fell on you.

“Sorry to intrude, but can I come in? I want to talk to you about something.”

Surprise at your demand showed on his face, but he opened the door wider, letting you come in. The sight of you in his room wasn’t unheard of, but you had never so boldly asked to come in.

You walked through the threshold, noticing immediately a suitcase on his bed, nearly full before his shadows quickly closed and latched the lid.

“Are you going somewhere?” You couldn’t stop the question from coming out.

“I was going to take a few days to myself. Enjoy some quiet at my cabin.”

Your heart had been bursting with secrets lately. Months ago Azriel had confided in you he had a cabin somewhere he liked to hide away in when he needed to get away.

That tidbit of knowledge was secured deep in your fantasies, a story you told yourself before going to sleep about him whisking you away to his cabin.

“Oh - well, I hope I’m not interrupting your need for peace.”

“Nonsense. I find your presence quite peaceful, anyway.” Your heart was in your throat at his words. His casual admittance giving you just enough strength to be bold.

“That is very kind of you. I find your presence to also be peaceful and delightful.” He smiled down at you, his full attention on your words. That was always what drew you to Azriel the most. You have always had his full attention whenever you spoke to him, and he always recalled the smallest of details from your conversations.

He saw you. He noticed you. The Mother made him for you and you for him.

“Well, Azriel. We are friends, right? And friends tell each other things and are honest, right?” You wrung your hands with your fingers, needing something to expel your nervous energy.

“Yes. I am always honest with you.” His words came out with a slight chuckle, a tilt to his head, wondering where this was going.

“Great. I have actually been keeping something from you for a while. At first I had to take some time myself to understand, and then I was waiting for the right time.”

“Go on.” He looked radiant with the light of the moon cutting across his face. No male could compare to his beauty. His words of encouragement and his smile at your nervousness were all you needed for the words to come tumbling out.

“I am in love with you. I have been for a long time, and I kept it to myself, but a few weeks ago, the mating bond snapped and I-“

“A mating bond?” His words were sharper than you had ever heard him speak to you before. His shadows swirled around your feet, occasionally jumping and leaping to reach you, but never quite making it.

“Yes, it-“

“You’re certain?” His words were making you shrink ever so slightly. The shadows had now begun swirling around the two of you, like they were trapping the two of you into a bubble.

“Yes, it-“

“To me?”

You tugged hard on the bond, pulling as hard as you could to release him from the shocked stupor he was in. It knocked him off balance, his feet stuttering forward before he righted himself. His scarred hands rubbed absently at his chest, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Let me finish, Azriel.” The shadows that had been swirling around the two of you floated down, sweeping across the floor. A few moved toward you, swirling around your body, helping you stay upright.

He didn’t listen to your words, only shook his head in response. He dragged his fingers down his face, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out.

He looked once more at you before he reached out, his hands taking hold of your shoulders before the two of you were whisked through space in his shadows.

“Azriel!” You pushed off of him the second you felt solid ground beneath your feet, putting distance between the two of you. “This is not what I hoped-“

“Be quiet.”

Your eyes widened at his words, taking a moment to take in your surroundings. He winnowed the two of you right in front of a cabin door, the structure surrounded on all sides by thick forest.

“Okay Azriel, you could have just rejected me - not bring me to who knows where.” You ignored his command, irritation lacing your words.

“No, I just- wait here.” He shut the door quickly behind himself, leaving you alone. Your heart felt heavy as you looked about the woods, uncertain if you wanted to know what laid in the darkness.

Whatever scent lingered from beneath the door was familiar, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. You were stuck - you could winnow home, you supposed. But why did he bring you out here? Would he leave you out here, wanting to know how long you’d stay and wait? Surely the bond would make him protective enough to let you die from the elements, right? The thought caused the string around your heart to play a sad, out of tune note.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing outside, a brisk breeze making you well aware of your lack of coat. The door opened once more, Azriel coming back out before he quickly shut the door behind himself, not letting you see inside.

“Az, what are we doing here?”

He held out a hand to you, his other back on the knob of the door.

“I have never brought anyone from the Inner Circle here.”

You grew frustrated at his words, a tiny hint of pride at being the first of your family to visit here. You accepted his hand, noting there really wasn’t any other decision you could make.

He opened the door and you took in the space. It was small - just the one room connected to a kitchen. It held a massive bed - somehow larger than the ones in Velaris. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations - the house was void of any indication of who lived in it. Your eyes stopped on the redheaded male who was moving about the kitchen, the sight of him short circuiting your brain.

“You said you’ve never brought anyone else here before.” Somehow amidst all the confusion, that was what your brain settled on.

“He said no one from the Inner Circle had been here. The door’s not as thick as you are, Azriel.” Eris’s voice was full of chastisement, clicking his tongue at the end to accent his point. You glanced between the pair, even more confused now that Eris had opened his mouth, the comment almost affectionate.

You shook your head, dismissing the thought. “Look, Az, I get it, this is something you don’t want-“ “Now I didn’t say-“ “so we can just go back to Velaris and I can move out.”

“What is she talking about?” Eris’s voice was loud to accomodate for the banging of pots and pans. He was cooking something, the cherry on top of ‘well, why not this too?’

You looked up at the ceiling, fighting back tears to what has quickly become the worst moment of your life. This was all so strange, you were certain you had hit your head somewhere, your body likely unconscious in Azriel’s room. Maybe none of this happened, and you fell on something in your room.

When you woke up, you were certainly never confessing to him.

“Tell him.” Azriel’s prodding words confused you even more. You looked at him in bewilderment. He had the same look on his face he does when he’s about to win a card game - no matter what move you make, he’s right in his assessment.

“Tell him? Azriel I think telling someone they’re your mate and them not wanting it is embarrassing enough, why do we have to drag in a spectator?”

His face fell slightly, something pooling in his eyes you couldn’t quite make out.

“Why do you think Azriel is your mate?”

You cocked your head at Eris, never having officially met him. You would recognize him anywhere - the long red hair, the ornate clothes decorated with autumn leaves, the scent of bonfire and whiskey stuck to him.

No one in the Inner Circle had ever told you how stunning he was, his beauty making other males look like mortals next to him. Except Azriel.

“I assume we can skip the pleasantries, Eris. Every facet of this night is more confusing than the last. Why are you cooking?”

“Because otherwise I will die of starvation. Or be even more intolerable due to hunger.”

You wished for a wall behind you to bang your head into. They may have omitted his beauty, but they weren’t wrong about him being difficult.

“Why are you in Azriel’s cabin?”

“I asked my question first.”

“Well, Eris, if you must know the inner workings of my personal life, Azriel is my mate and instead of being happy or even indifferent he brought me here to you for some reason. Can I go now?” The tears started forming in the corner of your eye, your fist clenched as you spoke.

“No,” they replied in unison, not looking at you. They both mirrored each other, their crossed arms not giving anything away as they silently argued, unsure when Azriel moved closer to Eris. You could make out a few words from the hushed tones, but it was impossible to hear them.

It took you a moment to realize Eris had stopped cooking when Azriel approached. He was giving him his full attention as they spoke to each other.

This was a very odd dream indeed.

“I’ve felt a pull to you.” Azriel was still looking at Eris, and you weren’t certain who he was talking to until he shifted his eyes to you. “I have always been drawn to you, needed to be near you. I didn’t want to think we were mates, because Eris is my mate.”

You blinked multiple times, the idea trying to make itself comprehensible to you. You looked around, certain to find some trace Rhysand had built this imaginary reality as a practical joke.

“No, that's not possible. If it’s not me, it had to be because of Elain or Mor.”

Eris scoffed, his annoyance clear across his face, his movements becoming more hurried as he added things to a pot. “Sorry to disappoint the both of you by not having breasts.”

“Eris.” An admonishing hiss from Azriel caused the Autumn heir to roll his eyes, not even looking at the glare the shadowsinger sent him.

“Forgive me. Forgive my mate for his deceits being so well done it fooled even his female mate.” Eris refused to pull his focus from his cooking, hardly acknowledging you with his body.

“Azriel and I have been together for some time, a rouse that is perpetuated by his supposed infatuation with the other females close to you.”

For some reason, his words stung. Azriel had been faking affection for them? If he could do that, why didn't he fake them for you?

As if reading your thoughts, Eris continued. “He was feeling something for you, something he hardly wanted to admit to me. But we have been looking into it. It seems no one has ever had this.”

“Had what?”

“Two mates.”

Your head was reeling, a migraine forming as you tried to process every bit of information you were given. Something gnawed at you - some insecurity making itself known in this odd circumstance.

“Were you getting close to me as an experiment?” That drew Azriel from his silence, his steps moving toward you.

“No - gods no. I like you, I like spending time with you. I’m drawn to you - I can’t help it.”

“He yearns.” Eris’s voice was flat as hid words came out, Azriel quickly spun on his heel and looked toward his mate.

His other mate, you supposed.

“I do not yearn.”

“You complain about missing her when you’re here.” Azriel’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, the first sense of affection you've felt from him since arriving.

Eris stopped stirring, turning his full attention toward you. His gaze left heat all across you, as if his eyes could penetrate your clothes, seeing your body and soul beneath. You can’t tell if he’s making the room warmer or if that’s just you.

“In the concept of honesty, I have to say you are… something.” His words broke you out of whatever stupor you had found yourself in.

“Thank you, Eris. That is the best non-descript compliment or insult I’ve ever received.”

“It’s not an insult.” You scoffed, uncertain how to respond. He straightened himself, standing tall as he continued. “Do you wish for me to wax poetic about my mate’s new mate? Divine, delectable, take your pick.”

Was he flirting with you? The notion made no sense, but something Azriel told you about Eris years ago had always stuck.

If you want to get anywhere with him, you have to play his game.

“My mate has a very pretty mate.” It was true and something Eris was more than aware of about himself. He scoffed, picking up a spoon and going back to cooking, but you continued. “Should I wax poetic about you, hm? Tell you all about how you look like a predator prepared to pounce and I’d be more than willing to be beneath you?”

Eris stopped his cooking, his spoonclattering as he took his time drinking you in.

“I thought you said she was timid and shy?” His question was directed at Azriel, but he kept looking at you. His gaze stayed on you, not wavering, seeing something he found interesting.

“That’s because Azriel runs at the potential for intimacy, I had to ease him into it.” Something close to a laugh escaped from Eris. His gaze finally moved toward the shadowsinger.

“I like her, Azriel. We can keep her.”

“I am not some toy to claim ownership to.” Eris paid you no mind, turning back to his cooking. You couldn’t figure out what he was making, but it smelled divine.

“Of course not, but you are my mate’s mate and that means I have to like you before making decisions about you.” Your heart stalled at his words, the air getting thinner around you.

“What do you mean by decisions?”

“Eris.” Azriel cut in for the first time in a while, and you would have forgotten about his presence if it hadn’t been for the bond humming.

“Well, I mean he is my mate already. He’s accepted the bond with me. If I didn’t like you, he’d just reject you.”

“He wouldn’t just-“ your words stopped, your statement unable to continue. Your throat went dry with the look Azriel gave Eris. It was a split second, but it was enough.

They clearly had discussed it - some topic they had mulled over several times, working through every scenario. Eris’s words were of such nonchalance, such subtle cruelty.

They would decide to shatter your heart without any thought or input from you.

It was getting hot, your clothes too much on your skin. Your breathing rose again, too shallow to fully take in a breath.

“So you’ve been- what? Keeping it a secret for months that Eris is your mate and that I’m your mate? Were you test running me this whole time?” Your voice came out squeaky, but you were too upset to care.

“No, I didn’t know-“ Azriel was scrambling, his eyes pleading with the truth. “I didn’t know, I was curious-“

“I mean, I knew you kept secrets, but this is- Eris and-“ your breaths were coming shorter and shorter, the cabin swaying slightly as it got harder to breathe. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some fictional reality. The bond in your chest was crying in agony, desperate for you to be closer to Azriel and to stop arguing.

“Azriel, she's self-destructing.” Eris didn’t move from his spot, continuing his cooking as if you had made an astute observation about the weather.

“I can see that.”

“Do something. She’s your mate.”

You pushed the hair from your face, straightening your shoulders. You blinked slowly, trying to clear your gaze. You had been a fool this whole time, that much was true. You were an experiment to Az - this whole time he had his suspicions, and you were nothing but a test subject he could drop at a moment’s notice. The collateral damage of your heart meant nothing to him.

He had Eris. Why would he want you?

“It’s clear now that you already have your hands full, Azriel. I’ll bow out respectfully.” The words came out cold, not a hint of the warmth you felt for Azriel laced them.

“Sweetheart-“

His shadows swirled around you, desperate to keep you close, to pull you closer to him. You batted them away, not wanting their comfort.

They knew. Azriel knew. Eris knew. This was all a joke to them.

“I’d be a fool to compete with Eris Vanserra over anything, including you Azriel. You’ve told me a hundred times how Autumn Court males sink their teeth into things and don’t let go.” Had his words been a warning? Had he been mated to him when he told you that? How far did these lies run? “Clearly you know from experience.”

You winnowed away, Azriel’s hand inches from where you stood. His shadows exploded, several moving around Eris, the Autumn heir batting them away with little effort.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Azriel directed all of his anger toward Eris.

“You were my mate first.”

“You practically pissed all over me, marking your territory. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut for me to speak!”

“Shall I hike up my leg? I thought such things didn’t interest you.”

Azriel breathed deeply, clenching and unclenching his fists to keep his anger in check.

“Besides, you wouldn’t speak. You clammed up.”

“We discussed this. You knew how important this was to me. This all went wrong.” Azriel was tugging at his hair, the bond swirling in his chest with your despair.

“Yes, yes. I know how my mate was quite taken with a female he lives with. Forgive me for not being thrilled.” Eris let the tiniest hint of hurt show on his face, his first display of emotion all night. Azriel spotted it immediately, his anger dissipating slightly.

“She might be your mate, too.” Azriel’s words were a whisper, a soft hope he was speaking into existence. The Mother wouldn’t give him two mates who hated each other, would she?

Eris gave a dismissive look Azriel’s way. “I suppose we’ll never know now.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Author’s note: any ideas for part two 👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

Next part

[imnotadogiswear]

Broke: Connor is uncivilised because he’s half native

Woke: Connor is just as civilised as any other person

Bespoke: Connor is uncivilised because he’s half Kenway

[multi-fandom-imagine]

The Many, Many Times Ezio Auditore Was Denied the Pleasure of Fucking You.

A/n: well he got it in the end 🤣 Let me know if ya'll want the actual full smut

I. The Library, After Sunset

The Villa Auditore had finally fallen quiet. The servants had retired. Maria had kissed her childrend goodnight and retreated to her chambers with a book. Giovanni was still in his study, but the door was shut, and the candlelight beneath it had dimmed to a sleepy flicker. Federico had gone to the tavern. Claudia was visiting a friend in the city and sweet little Petruccio was asleep in his bed. For once...for once, there was no one to interrupt you both.

You were pressed against the heavy oak of the library table, your back arched over a stack of old maps that had long since ceased to matter. Ezio stood between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips with a desperation that bordered on painful. His belt was already unbuckled, his breeches hanging low on his hips.

"Finalmente," he growled against your throat, his breath hot and ragged. "I thought this night would never come."

You didn't answer. You couldn't. His mouth had found that spot behind your ear, the one that turned your knees to water and his fingers were working at the laces of your bodice with practiced, impatient tugs. The cool air of the library kissed the swell of your breasts as he pulled the fabric down, and his groan was low and animal when he saw you.

"Dio santo," he breathed, palming the heavy curve of your chest. "Every time I see you, I want you more. It is a curse."

You laughed breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his dark hair. "Then break the curse tonight, Ezio. No more waiting."

He didn't need to be told twice.

His mouth descended on your nipple, hot and wet, and your head fell back against the parchment. His hand slid down your belly, past the waistband of your skirt, slipping between your legs with a roughness that made you gasp. He found you slick and ready as he pressed two fingers inside you with a growl of satisfaction.

"Look at you," he muttered against your skin. "Wet for me. Wanting me. Finally."

You whimpered, rocking your hips against his hand. "Then fuck me already, Ezio."

He laughed, low, dark, absolutely filthy and pulled his fingers out to suck them clean. His eyes never left yours. Then he was reaching for his cock, stroking himself once, twice, before guiding the head to your entrance.

"Finalmente," he sighed again, and began to push....

The door flew open.

"EZIO! COME QUICKLY! THE VENEZIAN— OH."

Claudia Auditore stood frozen in the doorway, her hand still raised from where she had thrown open the door. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. She saw everything, your bare breasts, Ezio's cock half-sheathed between your thighs, the frantic scramble of limbs as the two of you tried to separate.

"CLAUDIA!" Ezio roared, yanking up his breeches with such haste that he nearly tripped over his own feet. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I—" Claudia's face burned crimson. "There's a messenger from Venezia. He says it's urgent. Father sent me to fetch you."

"Could it not wait five minutes?!"

"Five minutes?" Claudia's eyebrows shot up. "For that? You flatter yourself, brother."

You were already pulling your bodice back into place, your face hot with embarrassment and frustration though you couldn't help but snort at her statement. The wetness between your thighs was starting to cool, and the ache of being so close..so close was almost unbearable.

Ezio was swearing under his breath in rapid-fire Italian, a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. He was buckling his belt with violent jerks, his cock still painfully hard beneath the fabric.

"This is not over," he hissed at you, his eyes blazing with promise. Then he stormed out after Claudia, leaving you alone in the library with a throbbing clit and a ruined orgasm.

II. The Garden, The Next Evening

You had resolved to be patient. Ezio was a busy man, a Master Assassin, a leader, a brother, a son. His life was not his own.

But when he found you in the garden at twilight, among the roses that Maria had planted with such care, the resolve crumbled like old plaster.

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his cock pressing insistently against the curve of your ass. He was already half-hard, and the way he ground against you made your knees weak.

"The messenger," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "Was it important?"

"Cazzo, no." He bit your earlobe gently. "Some merchant who thought he saw a Templar in the market. A waste of my time. But now I have time. We have time. Everyone is occupied."

He turned you around, walking you backward until your spine hit the stone wall of the garden alcove. The ivy was cool against your skin. His mouth was hot against yours. He tasted of wine and desperation.

His hands found your skirts, bunching the fabric up around your hips. He didn't bother with your bodice this time, he simply pushed your undergarments aside and slipped his hand between your thighs. You were already wet. So wet.

"Mia cara," he groaned, feeling the evidence of your desire. "You have been thinking about this all day, yes? Thinking about me? About my cock inside you?"

"Yes." your breath catching as he rubbed your clit with his thumb.

"Good," he said, and there was something dark and possessive in his voice. "Because I have been thinking of nothing else."

He lifted you. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Your back scraped against the rough stone, but you didn't care. You could feel him, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, the promise of what was to come.

He lined himself up. You held your breath.

And then.. ( of course )

"EZIO! MARIA SAYS DINNER IS....DIO MIO. "

Federico.

Of course it was Federico.

His older brother stood at the entrance to the alcove, a grin spreading across his face that was entirely too amused. He had the audacity to cross his arms and lean against the archway, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Mio fratello," Federico said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "I did not realize you were... ..gardening."

"Fottiti, Federico." Ezio's voice was strangled. He hadn't let you down yet, but his grip on your thighs was trembling. "Go away. Now."

"Mother will be displeased if you miss dinner again. She made your favorite, the ossobuco." Federico's grin widened. "But I see you have already found something to eat."

"I will kill you."

"Later." Federico gave a lazy wave. "Dinner first. Come, fratellino. The food grows cold."

Ezio let out a roar of frustration that echoed off the garden walls. He set you down with a gentleness that contradicted his rage, his hands lingering on your hips for just a moment.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice rough. "I will return. I swear it."

He didn't return.

Dinner stretched into evening, and evening into night. By the time Giovanni cornered him for a debriefing, and Maria insisted on an hour of music, and Federico kept finding excuses to follow him, the night was gone.

You fell asleep alone, your hand between your thighs, imagining his touch.

III. The Rooftops, Two Days Later

Ezio was losing his mind.

You could see it in the way he moved, jittery, restless, his eyes constantly scanning for threats that were not Templars but rather his own family. He had taken to dragging you onto the rooftops at odd hours, seeking privacy among the chimneys and tiled roofs of Monteriggioni.

"I cannot take this anymore," he said, his voice strained. He had you pressed against a chimney stack, the sun setting behind him, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. "Every time I try to be with you, someone appears. It is like a curse. A curse."

A snort escaped your lips as you tilted your head towards him. "Maybe we should just give up," you suggested, though the words tasted bitter. "Wait until everyone leaves for Firenze next week."

"No." The word was fierce. "I will not wait another week. I will not wait another day." He dropped to his knees.

You gasped as his hands pushed up your skirt, his mouth finding the inside of your thigh. He kissed a trail up your skin, his beard scratching deliciously, until his breath was hot against the damp fabric of your undergarments.

"If I cannot fuck you," he said, his voice muffled, "then I will taste you. And no one will interrupt this."

He pulled your underclothes aside with his teeth.

The first stroke of his tongue against your clit made you moan, your knees buckling. He caught you, holding you steady against the chimney, his mouth working with a desperate, hungry rhythm. He was not gentle, he was ravenous. He licked and sucked and bit, his fingers digging into your hips, his groans vibrating against your flesh.

You were close. So close. The pleasure was building, coiling in your belly, and you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.

"Ezio..." you whimpered. "I'm going to—"

"EZIO! WHERE ARE YOU? THE TEMPLARS—"

Your release shattered into a gasp of frustration as Ezio tore his mouth away from you with a sound that was almost a sob. He stood up so fast he nearly stumbled, his lips glistening with your wetness, his eyes wild with fury.

"CHE COSA?" he screamed into the evening air.

It was Giovanni. His father, standing on the next rooftop over, looking mildly apologetic but also completely unbothered by what he had just interrupted.

"Templar scouts have been spotted in the valley," Giovanni said calmly. "We need every blade. You included."

"I—" Ezio's jaw worked. "I was busy, Father."

"I can see that. But it will have to wait." Giovanni's eyes flicked to you, and there was a hint of amusement in them. "The signorina will still be here when you return. I assume."

Ezio made a sound that was not quite a word. He punched the chimney. He kicked a loose tile. He swore in three different languages.

Then he looked at you with such raw, aching frustration that you felt it in your own chest.

"I am going to kill every Templar in the valley," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And then I am going to find a room with a lock. And I am going to fuck you until neither of us can walk."

He kissed you hard, bruising, a promise and a threat and then he was gone, leaping across the rooftops after his father.

You slid down the chimney, your thighs trembling, your cunt aching, and wondered how much longer you could survive this.

IV. The Bedroom, Three Days Later

Ezio had devised a plan.

It was a simple plan, an simple but elegant. He had sent Federico to Roma on a fabricated errand. He had convinced Claudia to visit a friend in Firenze. He had told Maria that he and you were going to inspect a nearby ruin for Assassin activity, a plausible lie that would keep them away for hours.

Giovanni was the wildcard, but Giovanni had been called to a council meeting in the city. They had the house to themselves.

Almost.

Petruccio was still there, but Petruccio was ten years old and easily bribed with sweets and a new book about astronomy. Ezio had given him a pouch of coins and strict instructions to stay in his room.

"My little brother is the only one who will not interrupt us," Ezio said, locking the bedroom door behind him. "Because he is too busy counting his gold."

You laughed, but the sound was breathless. You were already undressed, lying on his bed, the sheets cool beneath your bare skin. He had promised you, finally, that nothing would stop him this time.

He crossed the room in three strides, his eyes devouring you. He was already hard, his cock straining against his breeches, and he shed his clothes with frantic efficiency.

"Finalmente," he breathed, climbing onto the bed, covering your body with his. The weight of him was perfect. The heat of him was intoxicating.

He kissed you deep and slow, savoring the moment. His hand roamed down your side, over the curve of your hip, between your thighs. He groaned when he found you ready.

"I have been dreaming of this," he murmured against your lips. "Every night. Every moment. I need to be inside you."

"Then be inside me," you whispered, arching your hips, guiding him.

He lined himself up. The head of his cock pushed against your entrance, slick and hot. You both gasped.

He began to push....and as if on cue.

A knock at the door.

Ezio froze. "No," he said. "No. No. Not this time."

"EZIO!" It was Petruccio's voice, high and excited. "EZIO, COME QUICKLY! THERE'S A BIRD IN THE KITCHEN! A REALLY BIG ONE!"

Ezio's head fell forward, his forehead pressing against yours. His cock was still half-sheathed inside you, twitching, aching.

"Petruccio," he called out, his voice strained. "Go away."

"But Ezio! It's huge! Mama says it might be a hawk! You have to see it!"

"Petruccio."

"If you don't come, I'm going to tell Mama you're being mean!"

Ezio closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He pulled out of you with a shuddering groan that was equal parts agony and fury.

"This is not over," he said, pointing a finger at you. "I swear on the Creed, I will make you come tonight if it is the last thing I do."

He yanked on his breeches, stormed to the door, and threw it open. Petruccio stood there, beaming, completely oblivious to the murder in his brother's eyes.

"Show me this bird," Ezio growled, and he followed his little brother down the hall, leaving you naked and empty and furious.

You lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, your thighs pressed together to ease the ache.

Then you laughed. Because if you didn't laugh, you would cry.

V. The Wine Cellar, Late That Night

Ezio found you in the wine cellar at midnight.

You had given up on sleep. You were sitting on a barrel of Chianti, a glass in your hand, wearing only a thin chemise. The frustration had settled into a dull, throbbing need that refused to be ignored.

He appeared in the doorway like a ghost, barefoot, his shirt unlaced, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

"Everyone is asleep," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I checked. Twice. I locked every door. I barricaded the hallway with furniture."

You set down your glass. "If anyone interrupts us now, I will help you hide the bodies."

He crossed the cellar in two strides, pulling you off the barrel and into his arms. His mouth found yours, hungry and desperate. His hands tore at your chemise, ripping the thin fabric.

"I cannot wait," he said against your throat. "I cannot be gentle. I need to fuck you now."

"Then do it."

He didn't need permission twice.He bent you over the wine barrel, your hands gripping the wooden rim, your ass pressed against his hips. He kicked his breeches down just far enough to free his cock,thick, hard, glistening with need.

He pushed inside you in one smooth stroke.

The sound you made was animal. The sensation of being filled, finally, was so overwhelming that your vision blurred. He was deep, deeper than he had ever been, and he was moving immediately, fucking into you with a pace that was punishing and perfect.

"Yes," he hissed, gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises. "Yes, yes, yes..."

The barrel creaked beneath you. The candles flickered. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, and you were so close, so close, the orgasm building like a storm and of course, because someone, somewhere hated him.

The cellar door flew open.

"EZIO! MOTHER SAYS!!!!BISCOTTI— "

It was Federico's voice.

But Federico was supposed to be in Roma.Apparently, he had returned early.

Ezio did not stop fucking you.

He did turn his head to scream at his brother, his hips never faltering, his cock driving into you with relentless rhythm.

"FEDERICO, SE NON TE NE VAI SUBITO, TI SPACCO LA FACCIA E LA INFILO NEL CULO DI UN CAVALLO! "

Federico stood there, mouth hanging open, as Ezio continued to rail you against the wine barrel. He was actually watching. The bastard.

"Now," you gasped, the sight of Federico's shock and the feeling of Ezio's fury sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, waves of pleasure that made your legs give out.

Ezio caught you. He pulled out with a growl of frustration, he hadn't come. Again.

But this time, he did not let go.

He lifted you, still trembling, and carried you past a stunned Federico, up the cellar stairs, through the kitchen, and into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot, and this time, he wedged a chair under the handle.

"No one," he said, laying you down on the bed, "is going to interrupt us ever again. "

He climbed on top of you, his cock still hard, his eyes burning with determination.

"And if they do," he added, "I am joining the Templars."

It was a bluff. You both knew it.

But the rest of the night was blissfully uninterrupted

[haythams-blade]

ℂ𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟙𝟟 𝕄𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟 - 𝕄𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝔹𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕞 𝕩 𝕗.𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Rated: PG (all my works are +18)

Summary: Basim is trying to help reader regain her memories in the modern world of her past life as Sigyn. This takes place after the events of Valhalla. There also might be hints of havi and reader.

~

{ A/N: I suck at dialogue rip}

Inside the remote New England cabin, the air was thick with the scent of pine smoke and the low hum of cooling servers. In the corner of the main room, Shaun Hastings and Rebecca Crane were hunched over their monitors, their faces illuminated by the pale blue glow of encrypted data streams. William Miles sat further back in the shadows, hunched over a table, his eyes fixed on a map of the world that looked increasingly like a chessboard. Basim sat with his back against the rough-hewn log wall, feeling the vibration of the generator humming somewhere beneath the floorboards. Outside, the wet winds of the New England winter howled against the old window shutters, but inside, the fireplace cast it’s heat, the flames creating dancing shadows that made the small living room feel like a hall of old to him.

(Y/n) was warmly pressed against his side. Her head fell tiredly against his strong shoulder somewhere between his description of Yggdrasil and the binding of Fenrir, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder like it had in the past, as if her body remembered what her mind refused to acknowledge in the present day.

The pair were off in their own little world as clicking sounds filled in as background noise as Shaun Hastings tapped aggressively at his laptop across the room. Rebecca Crane went back to sorting ammunition at the dining table, the metallic clink of brass on wood rhythmic and precise. They were planning something—an insertion into an Abstergo facility, a data heist, the endless, honorable war of the Brotherhood.

Basim should have been paying attention to the others. But he did not care for them.

And they still did not fully see the fox lurking behind his eyes. They did not see the old god.

Basim did not care for their brotherhood.

He only cared about the woman breathing softly against him. He cared about the way her fingers had unconsciously curled into the fabric of his shirt whenever he spoke of Loki. He cared about the fracture in her psyche where Sigyn slept, buried beneath a lifetime of (y/n)’s new memories—her childhood, her family and friends, her initiation into the Creed, even her first kill.

The Sigyn he had once known would never have been able to cause harm to another, let alone kill.

But (y/n) was not Sigyn. Not anymore. She was now reborn an Assassin, a woman of the modern day who believed in free will and the Brotherhood's cause. And Basim... well Basim was only helping the cause because she was there. He would follow her into any war, wear any mantle, play the part of ally to these earnest, doomed humans until the stars burned out, if only she would eventually remember who she had been to him in their past lives. She had been his wife in a different life. Before the catastrophe, before the encoding of his memories into the human gene pool.

Basim was feeling like a man out of time, a ghost inhabiting a body that felt both like a masterpiece and a prison. He found his focus on her sharpened, a hunter’s instinct honed over lifetimes. This was it. Another chance.

“Sigyn,” he said, his voice a low, melodic hum. He shifted slightly, allowing her to settle more comfortably against him.

"The stories say," Basim continued, his voice lower now, intimate, "that when the Asguardians bound Loki with the entrails of his own son, Sigyn stayed. She stood beside him in that cave, holding a bowl to catch the venom dripping from the serpent Skadi hung above his face. When the bowl filled, she would turn to empty it, and the poison would strike him. He would thrash, and the earth would shake."

She shifted, her cheek warm against him.

"She stayed," she murmured, "Even then."

"Even then," Basim repeated firmly.

The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney.

"She loved him, and he loved her." He continued, as he picked up the fireplace poker, and stoked the fire half haphazardly. They both stared into the fire, both deep in thought.

He watched her face out of the corner of his eye, searching for any sign of recognition, any flicker of the Isu consciousness he knew was dormant somewhere within her.

But he eventually continued on, telling another one of his tales of Loki and Sigyn’s love, and that’s when he finally saw it. A flicker in her eyes, a subtle shift in her breathing. It was there and gone in an instant, but he had already spent a past lifetime learning to read the subtle tells of her soul. It was the same look Sigyn would get when he’d return from a long journey, the quiet, profound relief that he was home. His heart ached with a fierce, possessive longing.

“She had held that bowl above his face,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “as an act of eternal, unwavering devotion. A love that endured torment. Her love for Loki was unconditional.”

The story hung in the air between them, a memory disguised as mythology. He leaned down, his lips brushing the top of her head in a gesture that was both chaste and deeply intimate. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it was enough, that the stories alone would eventually be enough to bridge the chasm of time and trauma that separated her from her former self.

But then she shifted slightly, tilting her head up just enough to see his face clearly. The sleepy contentment in her eyes was replaced by a sharp, analytical glint of her inner assassin.

“Basim,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re leaving out the rest of the story.”

He stiffened. “The rest?”

She then sat fully upright, and leaned back to create space between them. The distance she created was minimal—merely the space needed to look at him—but he felt it like a physical blow. Her eyes were clear now, the soft haze of contentment, replaced by the sharp intelligence that had made her one of the Brotherhood's most promising operatives.

“Where he used her loyalty like a weapon. Emotional neglect. Infidelity. He expected her to just... wait. Forever. While he did whatever he wanted."

"Those sagas," he said cautiously, "were written by small minded men who needed someone to villainize, they needed Loki to be the villain. He was a complicated man, too complex for their simple mindsets, they exploited his wrongdoings into their tales.”

"Maybe," she mused. Her voice was gentle, but the blade was there.

"But the patterns are consistent. She was loyal to a fault, and he exploited it. He was selfish, Basim. He was devious, cunning, and selfish. She was nurturing, faithful, and compassionate. He didn't deserve her in my opinion. He simply wasn’t a good husband, Basim,” she stated, not as an accusation, but as a simple fact. “He was a serial adulterer. He fathered monstrous children with other beings, with the giantess Angrboða, with the stallion Svaðilfari. He brought ruin and chaos upon the Aesir, and Sigyn was the one left to clean up the mess, to stand by him while he was despised by all.”

Basim’s carefully constructed narrative began to crumble. He wanted to argue, to defend the man he once was, but the words caught in his throat. She was right. He remembered it all with perfect, agonizing clarity.

“He neglected her,” she continued on, her voice gaining a quiet intensity.

“He humiliated her with his affairs. He was emotionally absent, wrapped up in his own ego and schemes. And yet, she stayed. Her loyalty wasn’t noble, Basim. It was tragic. It was the loyalty of a prisoner to her cell. In the myths, Loki treated her terribly. You keep telling me these beautiful stories about their love, but you've skipped the parts where he abandoned her for years. Where he had children with other women—other goddesses, giants, everyone and anyone. Where he used her loyalty like a weapon. Emotional neglect. Infidelity. He expected her to just...wait. Forever. While he did whatever he wanted."she spoke carefully.

The words fell into the space between them like stones into still water.

The fire popped casually, a sharp report in the suffocating silence that followed. Shaun glanced up from his laptop, sensing the shift in the room’s atmosphere, but a subtle shake of Rebecca’s head told him to stay out of it.

Basim remained silent, and felt a wave of shame so profound it was physically painful. He had been so focused on the romanticized image of their love, that he had willfully ignored the centuries of pain he had inflicted upon her. He had once been Loki, the god of chaos, mischief, and deception, and Sigyn had been his biggest victim.

Basim was realizing, with a slow, dawning horror that crept up his spine like frost, that she was right. He had been curating the mythology, selecting the verses that painted Loki as the tragic romantic, the misunderstood genius. But the truth—the raw, historical truth of his own behaviour or as Loki—was uglier. He had taken Sigyn’s devotion for granted, a constant he could ignore until he needed comfort. He had betrayed her trust not once, but repeatedly, each affair a small death delivered to the woman who had given him her eternal allegiance.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he managed, his voice strained. He avoided eye contact with her and stared distantly into the fireplace.

He pulled his arm away from her, not in rejection, but because he suddenly felt unworthy of her touch. “The old stories are… complicated. They are not always what they seem.”

He continued staring into the flames, but the fire offered no comfort. It only illuminated the ghosts of his past. The image of (y/n)’s thoughtful face dissolved, replaced by the memory of Sigyn’s, her expression one of quiet, soul-crushing devastation.

~

The memory shifted, twisting into a new, more painful scene. He was imprisoned now, bound by magical chains that dug into his flesh. The poison of the serpent dripped relentlessly onto his face, a torment of fire and ice. And above him, Sigyn held the bowl. But her eyes were not on him. They were fixed on the great hall of Valhalla, on the figure of Odin—Havi—standing at the high table.

Loki’s rage, even in his bound state, was a living thing. He saw the way Havi looked at her. It was not the look of a king for a subject. It was the look of a man for a woman he cherished. Sigyn’s gaze was returned, a silent conversation passing between them across the celestial divide.

She had eventually left him. After discovering his ultimate betrayal with Aletheia, she had not simply withdrawn; she had actively sought another. And she had chosen the one being in all the realms who was his equal and his opposite. His own father, for all intents and purposes. His own jailer.

The injustice of it burned hotter than the serpent’s venom. Havi, the All-Father, the great lawgiver, who had fathered countless demigods and taken multiple consorts, had the audacity to take Loki’s own wife as his prize. He had punished Loki for his transgressions against the order of the Aesir, only to then build a new life and family with the very symbol of Loki’s domestic failure. Sigyn, who had once been his, now belonged to Odin. She had started a new life, a new family, with the man who had condemned him to an eternity of torment.

The rage was a black tide, threatening to drown him. It was the fury of a spurned husband, the wrath of a betrayed god, the bitterness of a man watching his own legacy be rewritten by his enemy.

~

“Basim?”

(Y/n)’s concerned voice cut through the memory like a shard of glass. The fire was just a fire again. The cabin was just a cabin. The chains were gone, but the phantom ache of them remained.

He blinked, his eyes refocusing on her concerned face. She had sat up, her hand resting lightly on his knee. The others were watching them now, their pretense of ignoring the pair abandoned.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “Basim, you did thing again. You went somewhere else for a minute. Your hands are clenched into fists.”

Basim looked down, surprised to see his knuckles were white. He consciously uncurled his fingers, taking a slow, deep breath to steady the tempest raging within him. The ghosts of Asgard receded, leaving only the quiet reality of the cabin and the woman before him.

He forced a small, wry smile. It felt brittle on his lips. “I was just thinking,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Thinking what?”

He met her gaze, his eyes holding a depth of emotion she could not possibly understand.

He saw her—this new assassin, she was brave, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to her own cause. And beneath her, he saw the faint, shimmering outline of Sigyn, the woman he had once failed so spectacularly.

“How much of a fool Loki must have been.”

Her expression softened with confusion. “A fool? Why?”

“Because he had a goddess who would hold a bowl of poison above his head for eternity out of her sheer loyalty,” he explained, his voice low and intense. “A woman whose love was a fortress, and he was too busy trying to break out of it to ever appreciate that it was also his only sanctuary. He was a fool not to see her value. A blind, arrogant fool. To have Sigyn—to have all of that loyalty, that love—and to squander it. To not appreciate the weight of what she gave him."

The silence that now followed was different. It was no longer comfortable, but charged with a new understanding. She stared at him, her eyes searching his, as if trying to place a familiar face in a crowd of strangers. For a fleeting second, he thought he saw it again—that flicker of recognition, a spark of ancient memory ignited by the raw sincerity in his voice.

But again to his disappointment, she shook herself out of the trance and it was then gone, replaced by a gentle, modern sympathy. She didn’t understand, not truly, but she felt the weight of his words. The suppressed memories of her past life were teetering on the edge of her mind.

“Well,” she said softly, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “It’s just a story, Basim. A sad, old story.” She said as if trying to convince herself as well.

She studied his face for a long moment, her eyes searching for something—he did not know what. Then, slowly, she relaxed back against his side, tucking herself under his arm once more.

Her expression softened. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, a gesture so tender it nearly broke him.

"Well," she said quietly. "He's just a myth, isn't he? Stories in books. We're here now."

"Yes," Basim whispered back. "We are here now."

She settled back down, her ear pressed over his heart, listening to the rhythm that had beat through three separate incarnations of flesh.

"Let's stop telling stories about them," she whispered. "It makes me sad. Let us focus on the present moment."

"Yes," Basim agreed. "Enough talks of Loki and Sigyn."

She settled back against him, her head finding its familiar place against his strong shoulder, her body a warm, solid presence against his side. She seemed to accept his strange mood as nothing more than a historian’s melancholy. They fell into comfortable silence. The fire became the only voice in the room—hissing, crackling, surviving. Basim wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs. She sighed, a sound of contentment, and closed her eyes.

But Basim could not sleep. He could not rest. The memories came unbidden, as they always did when he let his guard down. Basim swallowed his thoughts, and simply rested his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes. The rage and bitterness from his flashbacks still churned in his gut, a toxic residue of a life he was determined not to repeat.

He had been Loki, the betrayer, the neglectful husband, the selfish god. He had lost Sigyn not to Odin’s power, but to his own profound stupidity and cruelty. He had thrown away the greatest loyalty the universe had ever offered him.

But he was Basim now. A new man. And she was was a new woman. It was the universe giving him a second chance.

He would not make the same mistakes. He would not be the same man who took her for granted, who sought affection in other arms, who failed to see the treasure he held until it was gone. He would follow her to the ends of the earth, not just because her path aligned with the Assassins, but because his path was, and always would be, wherever she was.

He held her closer, a silent, desperate promise echoing in the quiet of his own mind.

I shall not hurt her.

Not this time.

I will not be the same fool this time.

Basim tilted his head back against the log wall and stared at the ceiling, staring at the old wooden beams, breathing in the scent of her mingling with the smell of the wood burning.

I will not mess up this time, my love.

The vows were silent, carved into the meat of his mind with the same violence he had once used to carve names into the world-tree. He would not be Loki—selfish, scattered, burning bridges behind him as he sprinted toward the next diversion. He would be better. He would be worthy. He was now Basim.

He did not need the Assassins and their war. He did not need their creed or their brotherhood. But he needed her. And if she needed them, then he would stand at their fire, he would aid their missions, he would smile at Shaun’s cynical jokes, and nod at William’s grim strategies. He would endure the modern world with all its noise and fragility, because it was the world where (y/n) now lived, and he would not lose her again to Odin’s memory, or to Aletheia’s ghost, or to his own stupidity.

He did not know if she remembered—if any part of Sigyn stirred in her dreams, recognizing the arms that held her as the same ones that had held her while the world ended. He did not know if, when she looked at him, she saw the man she had left or the man he was trying to become.

But as her breathing deepened into sleep, and her body became heavy and trusting against his, Basim allowed himself to hope. Not the chaotic, destructive hope of Loki, but something older, quieter. Something like fidelity.

The snow fell. The fire died to embers. And in the dark, Basim ibn Ishaq—who had been Loki, who had been a killer and a trickster and a god of chaos—kept watch over his future wife, and swore that this time, he would be more deserving of her.

~

{ a/n: i think I’ll eventually write something for Sigyn/reader character x havi/Eivor }

{ a/n: gonna eventually get through this list!!! I have so many ideas I want to write about, but I want to finish Codextober. I have no idea how y’all finish the list in a month. 🤷🏼‍♀️}

[moriitis]

bath sex with connor? 👀

── .✦ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢/𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚑𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚔é:𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛.

I enjoyed writing this one until I had to actually write the smut part and then I felt like I lacked a little Connor might seem a little out of character and I don't know if I'm completely time accurate in terms of how baths work? lol enjoy!!

WC ⊱ 6k.

Warning(s) ⊱ 18+, MDNI, unprotected sex, male and female intercourse, mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, orgasms, female orgasms, male orgasms, teasing.

The white sails alerted his arrival back home, ignited that flurry of excitement within you as you quickly hurried down the paths, offering small apologies with passing travellers as you darted down toward the docks. The Aquila, in all it's beauty despite the occasional battle mark in its hull, came floating into the docks, sails proud and waving back at you. It wasn't the ship that made you excited, it was knowing that he had returned. It was knowing that Connor had returned to you, the many days you had spent alone, hoping and wishing that he were okay - he were safe. Seeing his ship pull up to the Homestead only brought you a great deal of reassurance and despite knowing that Connor was the type of man that could handle himself; you couldn't help the worry.

Quickly, your boots tapped against the wooden decking of the dock and you watched with a soft spring in your step as Connor emerged down from the plank, quickly peeling off that hat from his head and embracing you in his arms. Had you not been so smitten, you would have pushed him off, too embarrassed to be caught in such an earnest act in front of his crew. You used to feel that way, but now, you just couldn't. Not when you, your body and mind, missed him so much.

As you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, you smelt the saltiness in his hair, clinging to him and his clothes like a branded iron. It wasn't the usual pine scent he carried, this scent was the sea, the adventure and you weren't one to oppose it.

"You're home," you breathed out in a sigh of relief, feeling his firm hands keep you secure against his body. The ache must have been mutual given how long he held you, how he buried his own nose in the top of your hairline or how he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Connor had never been a man to give affection in public, so this also came as an odd surprise.

"Of course I am," he replied, voice muffled in your hair and god, it felt so good just to hear him again. You missed that voice, how gentle it could sound to you and only you. "I always come back." And he was right, he did, he always came to you. Whether it be on foot, horseback or ship - he would return to you.

Finally, you pulled away from the suffocating hug to admire his features. His skin had tanned a bit more out at sea, his hair a little longer, was that a hint of a stubble? You didn't know that Connor was capable of growing a beard, if at all.

"You look.." you trailed off, glancing back at that stubble, oh, that had to go. The last thing you wanted was prickled kisses, you loved his smooth skin. You watched his brow raise, watched how he watched you and quickly, you offered nothing but a smile. His worry was evident, fearful that you would no longer find such attraction - which was odd for a man who cared little about his own appearance. "I'm sorry," you offered a chuckle and dipped your head, your chin meeting your chest as a soft flush scattered across your cheeks. His gaze had always made you feel a sudden wave of shyness, despite knowing him for what felt like eternity. "You just look, like someone who had been out at sea for awhile, that's all."

Connor's eyes crinkled as he smiled, you loved that and finally, he brought a hand up to push a feather up and behind your ear. It was a feather unlike any other you'd seen, exotic and coloured with colours beyond your imagination. He leant in and it was there his lips brushed against your own.

"Captain," a voice came from just over his shoulder and quickly, Connor straightened his back and turned.

"Mister Faulkner." He had always been quick to respond, especially when caught in such an intimate moment such as that. It was hard to not giggle, especially with how he tilted his head down and tucked his hands between each other behind his back.

"She's in need of some repairs, took some damage along that gulf. Not sure if you were planning on taking her back out, if we were here to restock or if you were here to.." Faulkner trailed off, glanced over Connor's shoulder toward you and gave a short nod of respect - or just a nod of acknowledgement. A part of you wondered if Connor ever spoke about you to him, though that thought seemed more than unlikely given how private he was in personal affairs.

"No," he cut off Faulkner with a raise of his hand. "I intend to remain here. I have matters to attend on land." You just hoped those matters were you and your ever aching clit.

Faulkner raised his brows, but he really wasn't surprised. He had been a man in love once.

"Ah, yes, matters. I see," he shot a knowing look at you, to which Connor's gaze followed. Connor looked almost proud, and admittedly, so did Faulkner. It brought you back to the time where Faulkner had drunkenly babbled on about how Connor needed someone like you, needed a woman in his life and how he'd been different ever since. That was a funny night, a night where you planned to get Connor just a little tipsy, to which it was a plan unsuccessful. "I will leave you two to it then."

Connor turned to you once again, his eyes holding an apologetic gaze before you found yourself scooping his hand up within your own. They were so big, so rough and yet brought so much comfort to you. It had been many nights alone, many days hoping to see his ship sailing in again. You missed his large body enveloping your own in bed, ached to feel his fingers dance across your skin. Admittedly, you were unsure how much time you really had with him, but you didn't want to waste a second longer.

"Come," you tugged on his arm, causing him to stumble forward as he joined you down the docks and toward the sandy beach. "Let us go home."

Home to Connor sounded nice, the days on the ship had been long, unwelcoming. He'd spent hours out under the warm sun, hours of plotting routes and paths to chase the men he'd sworn to kill. This, the idea of home, seemed much nicer than that - especially with the company of a woman such as yourself.

The two of you trailed back up the path toward the manor, your arm on his bicep as you tried to pry some information out of him. What does he do out at sea? Does he enjoy it? Does he think of you? Would he ever allow you on ship with him one time? Connor spoon-fed you little snippets of information, ones you drank up without much complaint. Just hearing his tales made your skin prickle with excitement and the way he spoke to you, so soft, it made your heart melt and cunt ache in want. The path up was not long, though you two enjoyed each others company in the warm sun.

"You should wash up, eat some good food.. do you eat much on the ship? Is there food on the ship?" it was hard to not hound him with questions, but Connor didn't mind.

"Yes, there is food on the Aquila," he did not make you feel stupid, yet you couldn't help but feel it at his response. You were just so.. alien to these kinds of these! "They sit below deck, in barrels." You gave a hum in response, wondering what kinds of food did he eat. Salted meats, fruits? How did they not rot? How was there enough for him and his whole crew? The anxiety nibbled away at you and as much as you wanted to ask, you remained silent, just chewing on your bottom lip.

"You have enough meats?" he asked, causing you to look up. You already knew what he was asking, he was probably itching to be back here in the forest and you did not blame him. Connor did not strike you as a sea bearer, yet he captained well. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, of course you had enough meats - he had ensured of that before he even set sail.

"Yes, you needn't haste back out to hunt," you pat his upper arm and he gave you a sidelong glance, but you saw the smile in his eyes.

Finally, the two of you arrived back to the manor. It was still the same as it was before he left, large, welcoming and warm with memories still fresh on his mind. It was odd, he would have never expected such a house to make him feel as warm, though he couldn't help but feel you were partly the reason for that. Of course, Connor never had intentions of staying here for as long as he did either, he expected to finish his missions, to free his people, to return to them and marry another woman of his culture.. yet his life had proved to not go as planned. He was content with you, with a colonial woman and it was something he did not expect. Though, amongst all this madness, it was a warm welcome.

"Would you like me to begin running that bath?" you asked, your hands finding the buttons of his coat to help him peel it off his broad shoulders. You loved this, these small acts of domesticity; you'd never pictured yourself becoming such a perfect picture of a housewife. Especially when you fought it as fiercely as you did with your family and their arranged marriages.

Connor's hands caught your own, he cupped them perfectly in the space of his palms before lifting them to press a kiss to the knuckle of your thumb.

"I am capable of doing it myself," he spoke gently, pressing yet another kiss to the knuckle. It was hard to not swoon over him, over such a man of muscle and sheer strength, to a man who cared more of your orgasm than his own, to a man who cared and felt so deeply when it was normal for other men not to. A part of you wondered if that were normal in his culture, but he spoke little of his people and heritage.

"I know," you hummed, avoiding his gaze. He was right, he was a grown man, yet the urge to pamper him just overwhelmed you. "But I take pleasure in.. providing for you."

His brow cocked up questioningly and his head tilt, almost as if he were trying to decipher or mentally translate your words and meaning.

"Should it not be me taking pleasure in providing for you instead?" he replied and gosh, those words send a thrill of ecstasy down your spine. A part of you wondered if he even knew what that meant - or if he knew what effect those words had to your very being.

A soft grin presented itself across your features before you slid your hands away from his own, allowing his arms to drop back down to his sides.

"The man you are, Ratonhnhaké:ton," you wagged a teasing finger as him before you took some steps backward, toward the stairs. The use of his name made him follow you, mimicking the act of a lost puppy as you draped his coat over the banister of the stairs. You began up one step, watching as Connor leant his shoulder against the bannister. He was teasing you, much as you were with him. "I shall begin your bath," you ensured your tone of voice meant that you weren't taking another argument from him before you found yourself stepping up the stairs.

You felt his eyes on your back and you were certain it began on your back before it landed on your ass. You'd barely just reached the landing before you heard him following behind, as stubborn as ever.

"What is it you do when I am not here?" he inquired, following you into the bathroom. He leant against the doorway, watching you plug the plug before you began with running water. His question made you raise a brow as you reached down to fetch a basin that sat just beside the tub. You chewed on his words, pondered them, what did you really do?

"Well," you began, stepping past him slowly - which was a squeeze in the narrow doorway - then, you stepped back down the stairs; all while he followed behind.

"I clean the manor," you began to list, "the stables, I made food. I help with church, the farm and garden for fresh vegetables." You reached the kitchen and began to heat up some water in that same basin. You had neglected to tell him the part where you spent countless nights touching yourself, pretending your own hands were his, thinking back on the nights where he would eat from your cunt. "I read some books.." you trailed off, beginning to realise just how different your life was compared to Connors. Would he judge you for it? Would he feel you were not adventurous enough for him? Lazy, perhaps?

"Have you ever shot from a bow?" he interrupted and you raised your chin, shooting him a questioning look. Where was he going with this? It was like the man could read your thoughts and quickly, he shrugged - which honestly looked like more of a roll of his shoulders - before he continued; "or held a blade?"

"No," you scoffed out that word like it were absurd. "Women do not do such things. We have a place.. of maintaining, of making our men happy.." but even those words felt so awfully wrong on your tongue, you sounded so much like your own mother that you wished to just scrub your tongue and mind clean of such filth.

"You, yourself, do not seem so convinced of such words." Connor was right and you wanted to curse at him for that.

"Well, people change," you remarked back quickly, not sure what you were arguing but not wanting to lose it regardless.

"I would like to see you hold a bow," he was moving now and you felt his presence behind you. His breath felt warm on the back of your neck and your resolve was slowly crumbling. "To shoot, to be able to fight for yourself," he continued, his honeyed words were having an effect and now his arms had slid around your waist. You felt his lips ghost your neck and gosh, you felt like a fool for how quickly you tilt your head, allowing him the access of your skin. "Is that not something you would wish to learn?"

Every stubborn thought and wish within you wanted to push him away, to wave him off, to wave the very idea off.. but his words spoke some truth to them. You felt like nothing but a burden to Connor, having him hunt for you, not being able to protect yourself. And if it were true, that his line of work could carry some danger to it, then it only made sense that you were taught some basics of self defence. It was hard to think straight, especially with how hot he and the water below made you.

"Perhaps," you were being swayed and he knew this, you knew this, you could feel the smile as he pressed his lips against your neck. "It would prove only useful.." and he had you, just where he wanted you. Damn this man.

But as quickly as he swayed you over, you were back to the task at hand. You pushed him back gently with your elbow before lifting the basin of heavy water.

"But first, you must bathe," you said with a sharp nod, already stepping out the kitchen and back toward the stairs. "You smell rather.. well, rather.." you couldn't find the words. Ghastly seemed too harsh for a man like Connor, for the smell wasn't too bad. Just as you were about to climb the first step, his hands took the basin from you. He began the climb up the stairs, leaving you red-faced and stumbling over words.

"Why the sudden interest, anyway.." you quickly continued, watching as he poured the hot water in with the cold one. "Is there something I should be.. afraid of?"

He placed the basin down and began with his boots.

"No, not afraid. Cautious." You hated how little he spoke, especially in situations like this.

A silence settled between the two of you as you shamefully watched him undress, revealing his caramel skin, his abs and muscles which seemed tense from long days out at sea. It became increasingly difficult to peel your gaze away as he stripped the last of his clothing off before settling himself in the tub.

"You frighten me," you began, finding a loose thread on your skirts to fiddle with as you quickly adverted your gaze once he looked upon you. "When you speak like such." His gaze softened before he began motioning you closer with his hand and of course, you stepped toward the tub - trying to not look upon his cock.

"I do not wish to frighten you," he began, taking your hand in his. The steam made the room warm and your face felt red, though it was hard to tell if it were from the temperature itself or the way he held you. Connor wanted to say more, he really did, but you knew he hesitated and with a sigh, you fell to your knees just beside the tub.

"I know," you hummed, though you really didn't. You released yourself from his hand once again, retrieving a sponge from the flooring below before wetting it and slowly bringing water up to his chest. The ends of his hair was wet and hung loosely on his shoulders, the strands having gotten darker as he watched your features; trying to read what was happening in that pretty, little head of yours. Pulling your gaze away from his, you continued the rhythmic motion of sponge on his skin, washing away the dirt and oil and making him smell like him again; a scent you had gotten addicted to in your time of knowing him.

"I think of you.." he began slowly, watching as you scrubbed away at his skin gently, as you cupped your hand into the water so that your palm filled and that you could douse his chest with it. "When I am away." His words made you flutter and you avoided his gaze, knowing just how easily you would melt under it. You couldn't help the chuckle, shaking your head gently as you took his arm and lifted it up. His body was littered in all kinds of scars, from small wounds to large gashes and the scarring tissue would contort in some ways that felt unhuman.

"You do?" you finally succumbed to his words, shaking your head as you ran the sponge up, under his arm to scrub beneath his armpits. Finally, his hand caught your wrist gently and he paused your motions, turning up to look at you before using his fingers to press against your chin, turning you head to meet his own gaze.

"Everyday," he brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, taking great pleasure in the way your lip followed his thumb and exposed the expanse of your bottom teeth.

"Faulkner tells me you are a distraction." It was his attempt at humour and you smiled gently, now leaning into his touch to press a kiss on the tip of his thumb.

"I have been called many things, but a distraction?" you sucked at your teeth and gave a laugh, which sounded sarcastic. Connor didn't pick up tones like that, you were thankful he couldn't. Finally, you wrapped your fingers around his, his own suffocating yours and you pulled his hand up to nuzzle into his fingers. There were so large, so warm and with the water, they did not feel as rough. You wondered what these hands were capable of - aside from pulling an orgasm from you - what he did aboard the ship. Pulling at ropes, or steering the wheel? He had too, you just wished you could see it in person.

"You are distracting me now," he remarked and once again, you chuckled. You met his gaze and for a fleeting moment, you saw how quickly he peeled his eyes away from your cleavage. Ah, so that was the distracting part about you, sometimes your forgot how simple the man species were.

So, you took the opportunity and gosh, did your body ache for it too. To feel those hands on your skin, for him to pull another orgasm out of you until it were never-ending, until you were begging him to stop, to give you a moment to recover. You pushed his hand down onto your collarbone, flattening out his fingers before you helped guide his down to your chest. His fingers twitched and behind him, he left a trail of wetness until your dress and bosom became damp. You felt the hesitation in his movements, how he wanted to squeeze, to feel them, to appreciate this one singular breast in the palm of his hand - yet, he did not. He just looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

"A distraction," he reminded, finally submitting to his own desires and gently giving your breast a soft squeeze. He felt how soft your skin was, how your nipple hardened and formed a tent of its own beneath the fabrics of your dress. Should you now mention that you had neglected to wear anything under this or should you keep it a surprise?

Then, without a warning, his hand suddenly and sharply tugged the fabric away until your own breast fell out and you gasped. He'd never been this direct, not unless he couldn't wait and it was increasingly obvious how much he missed you - given how hard his cock had become. You opened your mouth to speak but he captured your lips with his own before you could form any words, the only sound was a muffled hum as he pushed his tongue in and allowed it to reacquaint itself with your taste. Everything went a little too quick and this room was so steamy and warm, you felt your dress stick to your skin as Connor began to greedily drag you into the tub. In a quick motion, you clamped your hands around the edges and muffled out a soft complaint against his lips.

"Conmor-!" his name came out disformed as he pushed his lips back against yours, suddenly directing his attack at the sharpness of your jawline. "Con- Ratonhnhaké:ton-" you ushered his name in a breathless giggle. "My skirts, you're going to wet them."

Finally, Connor paused and you felt his forehead rest against your chest, his hands moving to thumb the skirts between his fingers. Well, they had to go if you were going to join him, that was fact.

"Then allow me to undress you?" he asked, turning his head up and pressing his cheek into your breast. Everything in your body hummed with excitement, your cunt feeling damp, your legs trembling with anticipation. It had been so long since he filled you, since he made your head spin with mouth-watering orgasms - where the effects lasted for days.

"Ye.. Yes.." you could barely get the words out, your hands already moving to kick off your own boots, his own hands helping unlace the ribbons behind your lower back. He's done this countless of times, his fingers so deft and quick.

Within seconds, you were left bare before him and you were stumbling over your own clothes to join him in the tub. It was small and awkward as you tried to find the right position where the two of you could sit comfortably, of course, Connor already directed you to take position on his lap. His eyes drank up your nakedness greedily, like a man starved, soaking in the way your nipples reacted, the way your body would writhe and squirm no matter where his placed his hands. And that movement worked in his favour, allowing him to feel your folds grind up against him in every way.

"You're a beautiful distraction," he hummed gently, voice hoarse as he connected his lips to your nipples. Your hands found the strands of his hair, your nails scratching against his scalp just gently as you felt his tongue lap at one nipple and then the next.

Despite the warmth of the water, your skin rippled with each kiss and suck on your bud. He suckled on one nipple until that brought discomfort, then he swapped and gave the other nipple the same treatment. Your head was buzzing, your cunt feeling numb with how much you ached for him and you couldn't help the gentle roll of your hips up against his cock, desperate for some friction on your clit.

"I'm an impatient woman, Ratonhnhaké:ton," you whispered between breathless moans, pulling his head back by tugging on the strands of his dark hair. He met your gaze, his lips parted and you wanted nothing more for him to connect those pretty lips to your clit.

Finally, there was some movement as the palms of his hands connected with your hipbones, bringing you down further onto his lap while his other hand moved to take a hold of his shaft. The water around the both of you sloshed and in this moment, you could not care less about any of it spilling out of the tub. The space of the tub itself did not offer much in terms of movement as you awkwardly pushed yourself up, allowing for Connor to get a better grip of himself. He took careful moments to pump his cock before pushing the head of his cock up against your clit slowly, rolling it in a circular motion that made your head drop back. If it wasn't for the water within the tub, you would've been soaking, that you were certain of. Instinctively, you pushed your hips up against his cock, which earnt a soft groan to emit from his throat.

It never occurred to you that Connor would be a vocal man, especially given how little he seemed to converse with anyone that wasn't you. You remembered the first night with him, how much he grunted and groaned beside your ear and you drank up those noises and stored them in the darkest parts of your brain for later. Him being so vocal only seemed to stir you on more as you felt the head of his cock slip down between your folds, press against your entrance before slide back up toward your clit. Impatient was putting it lightly, you wanted to scold him, to tell him to hurry and fuck you until you were dazed - but you wanted to prioritise his pleasure as much as your own. It had been months, Connor must've grown tired of his hand; which he admitted to using after prying that information out of him one night. He grew increasingly embarrassed at the mention of it and frankly, you were unsure as to why. You'd reassured him that masturbating was completely normal, but he always got a little awkward about that topic.

Then, without much warning, his cock slid back between your folds and suddenly pushed in. He was slow, though there was barely contained restrained as you suddenly found yourself clinging to his shoulders for some support. The pain was sharp and sudden, a pain that shot right up your spine and leaving you tingling in its wake. It had been so long, that you had neglected to consider how much this would hurt - especially with Connor's large cock, which had to push seven inches. It wasn't just the size, it was the girth, he was big in all shapes, being his body or cock. You let out a trembled whine, one that border-lined pain and quickly he paused.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently in a whisper, pulling you closer to his chest. Communication had always been important with him, but more so in regards to sex. You only figured that was the case given how you cried the first time. You nuzzled your head into his own, your forehead becoming damp with sweat despite the water having cooled down.

"'Mm fine," you hummed gently, giving yourself a moment before continuing to sink yourself down onto his cock. He stretched you out in ways that felt unreal, though the pain continued to fester as you dug your nails into the flesh of his shoulders. You could hear his gentle moans and admittedly, you found yourself holding your breath just to relish in them for a little longer.

Connor bottomed himself out inside of you, allowing a moment or two for the both of you to compose. He knew he only needed a moment himself because if he continued, he was going to cum and he simply couldn't allow himself that pleasure just yet. His fingers twitched on your hips, the subtle urge to lift you and let you fall back onto his cock became overwhelming, so he diverted the attention to your neck instead. His lips peppered soft kisses, so soft, they felt like the wings of a butterflies and you found yourself coming mesmerised in how such a large man could be so soft and gentle. It made you doubt everything he had ever told you about his line of word, how could the same hands that held you be capable of so much murder?

Finally, the soft shoots of pain subsided enough to bring you back to your main priority - coating his cock in your cum. With one hand on his shoulder and the other on the side of the tub, you began to bounce your hips gently. Everything about his cock left your mouth watering, how it filled you, how it managed to brush up against your inner walls in a way that felt like a blessing. It gave you great pleasure to know that you had been the only girl to ride his cock as such, to know that he'd been thinking about you and your body whenever he were alone while out at sea.

"Please, talk to me," you begged gently, desperate to hear some words flow from his mouth. Whether it be in English or his native tongue, you couldn't care. His hands squeezed at your hips - which had to leave some marks - while he helped aid you down onto his cock. At this point, your previous care about wetting your clothes seemed pointless, given how much water sloshed around inside the tub until it spilled out over the flooring below.

"I love you," the words came out into a grunt as he continued the motion of thrusting his hips up, the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock and squeezing him felt overwhelming. How was it remotely possible to last this long with a pussy this heavenly?

His words made your heart flutter - your clit too - as you tried to focus on the way his mouth moved and formed each word individually; like they were meant to belong. And just when you wanted to respond, he moved, one hand cupping the back of your neck to help aid you down further. The head of his cock stroked the spot that made you tingle, making every muscle feel tight as you tried to focus on your orgasm.

"Raton," you could barely finish the rest of his name, moans spewing from you as you bounced on his cock helplessly, desperate to reach your orgasm and his own. "Raton, Raton-" you praised his name, praised his being, his body, his cock and it seemed the sound of your name on his lips only encouraged him further.

Quickly, you pushed a hand down, down past your stomachs until your reached between your legs. You gave your aching clit well deserved attention, rolling the small bud between the ends of your fingertips as you chased your orgasm. It came to a surprise upon feeling Connor's hips stutter underneath you, until he shot his head forward and groaned against your skin. You felt his cock twitch, convulsing with each shot of seed that decorated your inner walls. It wasn't often he cum first and admittedly, it made you a little smug knowing you had managed to pull that from him first. As much as you wanted to tease and jest, you wanted to cum yourself, so your pace quickened on your clit. His hips continued to thrust and roll up into you, helping him shake off the aftershocks of his orgasm while he helped you chase your own.

"You're so beautiful," he muttered against the skin of your breast, appreciating how your skin glistened beneath sweat while he took his time with you. With the way your walls fluttered around him, he knew you were drawing close, so he continued; making you thankful that he was a man of such stamina.

Then everything began to tight, your head began to spin and you were rocking your hips so desperately that it would not phase you if there was no water in this tub left. Your lower abdomen fluttered, so did your stomach and suddenly you felt your hips crash down on his own as your body completely rag dolled against his. Connor was quick to hold you, to steady you, to give out soft pants as he felt you come crashing down around him. The orgasm was intense, much more intense than it had ever felt before, leaving your mouth to water and your hand to slowly still as you rode out your own aftershocks; your skin prickling in ecstasy.

The only sound that emitted from the two of you was desperate panting, both catching your breath as Connor smoothed out strands of your hair and pushed it over your shoulder. You wanted to do the same, you really did, but the overwhelming urge to just doze off began to consume you. It didn't help the room was so warm and steady, a perfect combination for your already heavy eyelids.

Finally, after a fleeting moment, Connor pulled away and pressed one lasting kiss on your lips. This is what you missed, what you needed and lazily, you returned the kiss - missing how ever so sweet his lips always tasted.

"I wish to take you aboard one day," he hummed, his voice hoarse. His words pulled you from your hazy state, making you sit up a little despite the small shoot of pain. Was he serious? Or was it the post-nut clarity him just talking. You could've sworn Faulkner made some comment about how 'women did not belong out at sea.' Then again, Faulkner was not the Captain.

"Is that so?" you hummed, clearing your throat and looping your arms around his neck. There was a tug of a smile at the corner of his lips, which only gave you the answer to your own question. "Will I not be a distraction?" The humour lingered in your voice, unable to take him seriously with his flushed, freckled cheeks.

"You will be," he began, tracing the palm of his hand up the curve of your spine. "Though, I do not think it will cause me much trouble."

His words made you grin and before you could let the whole idea get to your head, you nestled down further against his hips.

"That sounds like a challenge, Captain."