[erissheiress]

Laura ☆ 20 ☆ she/her ☆ irish ☆ acotar sideblog ☆writer ☆ book lover ☆ eris & azriel lover ☆ english/history enthusiast ☆ period dramas ☆ anti discourse ☆ friendly discussion only ☆ asks always open!

☆ Masterlist ☆

requests open for:

☆ Azriel

☆ Eris Vanserra

☆ Lucien Vanserra

☆ Rhysand

☆ Cassian

☆ Mor

☆ Feyre

[billyrayjo]

I love you, I'm sorry

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Description: Things between you and Azriel had been going great, until he comes home from a mission wrapped around another. Realizing it wasn't as serious to him, you run. Just intending to take a walk, things go south when you realize you're in trouble... and the shadowsinger might just not care.

Tags/ Warnings: Angst, injury, hurt/comfort, Azriel is a meanie, Cassian being Cassian.

Smoothing the skirts of your gown, your gaze couldn't help but fall on the necklace you hadn't taken off in weeks. Azriel had gifted it to you for solstice, the blue of the gem looking suspiciously similar to that of his siphons.

You wouldn't say you were courting, per se. Your relationship had simply bloomed on its own into something neither of you had ever bothered to name.

Your fingers drifted over the stone's surface, and for the first time all day, the tightness in your shoulders began to ease. Azriel was meant to be home tonight.

It was no surprise to you that Rhysand had deemed Azriel's mission over the same night he intended to host a feast for the inner circle and outside friends. According to your High Lord, Azriel was due back any moment now, the details of his mission unbeknownst to you. You were just excited to see him.

Azriel had gone on a few missions since this relationship had intensified, the male always seeking you out the second his feet touched down on the balcony of the house of wind.

You hadn't intended to miss him so much. Things were still fairly new, and to feel this attached to him was almost alarming. You weren't used to having someone to wait for, unsure if you should act overly joyful at his return or a little more nonchalant.

Shaking your head for some clarity, you let your gaze fall upon your figure one last time. You had chosen the best getup you had available for the occasion, something in you itching to see the reaction of the shadowsinger. The dark fabric and intricate lace might have been on purpose to reference his shadows, but that was insignificant.

He always took you in appreciatively, whether in a nightgown or training leathers, his gaze slowly dropping to your feet before rising to your face. You felt your cheeks heat at the memory of the way his eyes darkened when landing on you.

Finally tearing your gaze from the mirror, you cleared your throat from the intensity before making your way out of your bed chambers.

The violins grew louder as you neared the party, your shoes clicking lightly against the stone of the ground beneath you. Finally catching sight of a few guests, you sighed in relief when your eyes fell on Mor already chatting up a familiar looking couple.

Timidly approaching her, you let your hand meet her arm before she turned to look at you, her gaze lighting up immediately at the recognition.

"Finally! I was starting to think you weren't coming!"

You giggled as her arms wrapped around your neck, her stance slightly wobbly likely from the wine glass already clutched in her fire red nails.

"I see someone has already cracked open the wine..."

She lightly smacked at your still outstretched hand, the glass sloshing lightly at her movements. Pulling entirely away from the couple she was previously speaking to, she wrapped her arm around yours before leading you deeper into the party.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I know you're just itching for a glass yourself." She huffed, heels clacking along as she kept her pace beside you.

An hour or two later, you were three glasses in, watching amusedly as Cassian reenacted an interaction he had in the market earlier this week.

"I don't understand why it's so laughable that I, warlord and killer of men, would be interested in personal hygiene?! You should've seen the females giggling from the stall over!"

A content laughter settled among the few fae around him, his expression exaggerated as if waiting for someone to answer his rhetorical question. Just when he seemed ready to continue, his posture stiffened at something he was seeing behind your back.

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you went to look behind you when Cassian's hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.

"Hey! Why don't we- uh- would you like to come get a drink with me?"

You could see the nervous gulp trail down his throat as his gaze searched yours, his eyebrows lifted almost in a plead as he gently pulled you toward him. Glancing down at your almost full wine glass, you lifted your gaze back to him confused, raising it slightly to catch his attention. It would have almost been comical if he didn't look so close to soiling his trousers.

"Not you, silly! Me! I need a drink, you know, all this 'working the crowd' has really dried out my thr-"

His plead was interrupted by a few gasps from the fae around you, your attention quickly snapping back to the situation at hand. Just as you went to turn around a second time, Cassian quickly pulled you again, your wine splashing over the rim and onto your fingers.

"Hey! What is going on with you? What is everyone starting at-"

Just as the words passed your lips, your gaze finally landed behind you. Across the party, an unmistakable spymaster was stood in the crowd. Feeling your pulse increase at his presence, you let your body fully turn in his direction, eager to greet him.

You were stopped in your tracks as your gaze lowered, your feet coming to an abrupt halt when you noticed a manicured hand wrapped around his bicep. Eyes quickly shooting to his right, you felt your heart stop entirely as your eyes fell on a beautiful fae woman. His eyes were on her as she laughed, her gaze more than friendly as she looked up at him.

All you could manage was a small "Oh." as Cassian appeared at your side, his hand finding your arm and tugging again.

Letting him steer you away from the sight, the gears in your mind began turning as you walked with him to his unknown destination. Voices invaded your mind, whispers from the party guests. Statements along the lines of "Azriel never brings a female" or "I wonder if he has found his mate". You only snapped out of your spiral momentarily when you heard a door shut behind you.

"Look y/n. I know what it looks like. Just listen to me-"

You raised your hand abruptly, cutting him off.

"What it looks like? Cass, it's what it is. You don't have to try and spare my feelings."

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

"No y/n seriously. Let me explain."

You took in his devastated features, matching his look with your own. How awful that Cassian would have to be the one to let you down easily, his own brother too occupied to reject you himself.

"No Cass. It's fine. You don't have to explain for him."

You quickly turned away from him, dropping your glass on a nearby table. You didn't realize you were crying until you caught your reflection in the mirror above it, tears trailing through the makeup you had spent hours perfecting.

Steeling yourself in the reflection, you didn't let Cassian speak another word before you were gone. The rage and utter betrayal in your mind blending into one tainted landscape. Where the winds matched the ice you felt in your veins, the temperatures as brutal as the thrum in your heart.

Landing on your knees, you didn't even have to look up to know where you had landed. The snow cushioned your fall, pooling around the skirts of your gown. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared, watching as a thin layer of sleet covered your lap almost instantly.

Letting your hands fall to your sides, your fingers didn't even flinch as they came in contact with the freezing sludge beneath you. You just sat there, letting your body become one with the elements and bring you back to reality.

It didn't take long before you felt the biting chill racing across your skin, your gown not doing anything to shield from the biting winds. It was refreshing.

This place was not unfamiliar. You had been here before, many times. When you had nightmares, when you were so overwhelmed with emotion you couldn't escape, your mind always conjured you here. You don't know why, but the place that once seemed to frighten you was now calling with open arms. The one place nobody knew. The place of your deepest fears, now becoming your sanctuary.

Nobody would be crazy enough to follow you out here. Even if they somehow knew where you were.

It felt like hours had passed when you finally stood. Body uncontrollably jerking with the cold, you forced yourself onto unsteady feet. Letting your gaze fall on your destination, you took in the twisted black trees and steady downpour of sleet. The hairs on the back of your neck immediately stood. Something was watching from the darkness.

Whipping around at a cracking twig beside you, your hands immediately raised in defense, body tightening with anticipation. Feeling your breaths tumble past your lips, you couldn't help the jumps in your muscles from the freezing temperatures. As you squinted through the snowfall, you made out a large figure twisting its' way through the forest.

You jumped when you heard another sound behind you, forcing you to take your eyes off the first creature and check your blindspot in case of an ambush. Not seeing anything, you quickly whipped your head back to the original threat, but were shocked into a gasp when the creature appeared right in front of you. Tripping over your own feet, you gathered your skirts in your hand and ran.

Jumping over roots, ankles twisting and bending at awkward angles, you ran through the snow as fast as you could. Your toes were numb as the snow soaked through your slippers, making it even harder to measure your steps. You checked behind you every few steps, anguish crawling up your throat in a scream as you realized it was gaining on you faster than you anticipated.

Deciding running wasn't going to save you, you swallowed your fear and stopped your steps. Whipping around, you prepared to strike at the monster on your heels. A shudder crashed through you at the sight of it.

It was nothing you had ever seen before. A large reptile-like head rested on an even larger body, the moon glinting off of massive claws digging into the slush before you. It's long serpent-like neck twisted and turned as it looked at you, teeth baring and tongue lashing curiously as it sized you up.

You didn't even have a chance to take in the creature before it was pouncing, teeth chomping at the space your head was just in. Dodging, you tucked and weaved as quickly as you could to dodge its' blows. As you danced around the creature, you could hear its' voice in hissing whispers, and one of them made you stop dead in your tracks.

"The Ssssspymasssterssss mate!"

You could only stare as its' tongue flicked with each 'S', a pang of confusion almost knocking you back harder than one of the creature's blows.

Your moment of pause would cost you.

Before you could even utter a word, one of the creatures scaled legs soared, its claws sinking right into your side. You could feel as each claw pushed through your ribs, nothing but a small wheeze escaping as you held the intense eye contact. The searing pain was nothing compared to the memory you'd have of those eyes, holding your own like it never wanted you to forget. Your body had no choice but to collapse where you stood, the world blurring until you were looking up at the sky above you. You could barely make out a scaled tail whipping above you as the creature slipped into the night.

Your hand clutched your side, white hot pain shooting through you. You sucked in a ragged breath, only for it to catch as fluid invaded your lungs. A harsh cough wracked your body, your body convulsing and warm liquid spilling out onto your face.

Trying and failing to suck in a full breath, your battered body jerked and pulsed with the pain, your vision becoming hazy for a moment before focusing back on the night sky. You could feel the sleet hitting your face harshly, forcing your eyes to blink rapidly.

The wind howled around you, the once still trees looking alive as the rays of the moon slipped between their branches. You could hear the whistle of the wind through them, creaks and groans echoing around you at the pressure pushing against them.

Just as your vision blurred a second time, you thought you heard something. Your fae ears twitched, straining against the raging winds around you. Hope bloomed in your chest, fragile, as you listened.

There it was.

Faint at first, then louder.

"Y/n!" a voice bellowed through the trees. "Answer me, sweetheart!"

Your heart lurched.

Azriel.

Every instinct urged you to call out, to let him know you were here and you needed him. You opened your mouth, but only a weak broken gurgle escaped past the blood on your lips. Pain ripped through your chest.

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the shrill trail of tears down your temples, the realization that Azriel wouldn't find you in time bringing a rough cry past your lips.

Your heart lurched a second time as another shout cut through the trees.

"Y/n?" His voice cracked with panic. "I hear you, baby."

Footsteps thundered through the forest, growing closer with every passing second, branches snapping beneath his steps. Shadows stirred between the trees, racing ahead of their master.

"I'm coming." he called, breathless. "Hold on for me. I'm coming."

Your blurry gaze catches a movement in the tree line before you, branches separating and snow falling as a tall figure bursts through. Before you can even orient yourself Azriel has landed on his knees beside you, the glow of his siphons drawing your focus to his chest.

Hands come up to cradle your face, your eyes flickering to his own as his head blocks your line of sight to the sky above. You can feel the trail of blood running down your chin when you attempt to smile up at him.

You can feel his hands leave your face as he assesses your body, another gurgle coming from you when his hand comes in contact with the wound on your side.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” he coos, his free hand coming back up to wipe at the tears rolling down your temple.

Your hand comes up to grab at his resting on your hair now, your own blood coating your fingers visible in your peripheral.

A broken sound leaves his lips as you choke once again, an almost feral growl you had never heard from him before.

His shadows slowly start to surround you, and before you can attempt another breath, his face steeles into one of resolve.

“I’m going to winnow you. I have to get you back to Velaris so Madja can help.” his hands automatically start moving to hold your body to his, one sliding beneath your back and the other cradling the back of your head.

At the movement, you can’t help the wince that tumbles past your lips.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart. But you have to stay with me, okay? Can you do that for me?” his eyes are pleading when he locks them with your own, his breaths trembling.

With as much of a nod as you can muster, you brace yourself for the pain about to consume you.

Azriel brings your body to his, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You watch in awe as the shadows surround you fully. You had never been surrounded by such complete and utter darkness.

You can hear Azriel talking to you, a repeated “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry” passing through your ears as the world around you disappears.

With the warp through time, you can feel your entire being teetering over the edge of life and death. The pressure on your limbs is so strong you can do nothing but hold your breath, praying to the mother that you make it to the other side.

Azriel might love another, but you still have friends, a family waiting for you. Even though your heart was on the verge of breaking, you still had hope. Hope for happiness and a future where you didn’t feel like this.

Just as a bright white began taking over your vision, Azriel clutching to you like he would never let go again, the shadows dissipated. You could feel the coolness of their embrace leave you suddenly, before your consciousness began to fade.

Muffled in the background, you could hear Azriel yelling. “Get Madja! She doesn’t have much longer. She can’t breathe.” tore through his lips as your body transferred from his to a softer surface. You finally could let your mind relax.

The first thing to return to you was sound. You could hear the faint crackling in the hearth, a soft sound coming from the fae lights around you. Letting your ears tune into the new environment, your fingers began searching of their own volition.

A soft, familiar texture smoothed under your fingertips, the warmth of the comforter feeling foreign after so long in the cold.

Clearing your throat, your eyes immediately popped open when you realized that there was no longer anything interfering with your breaths.

It took a moment for your vision to clear, almost as if the sleet had to clear away before you could fully take in your surroundings. Slowly sitting up, you winced at the pinch in your side.

Your brows furrowed as you realized that this was not your room. The dark bedding and wall of daggers gave you a good idea of whose bed you were occupying, but you weren’t sure why.

Realizing you were alone in the room, you forced your legs to swing over the side of the bed, the grunt of effort an added reminder of the trauma your body had gone through.

You didn’t even stop to take in your appearance, which you were sure had been cleaned up by some form of magic, before tiptoeing through the cracked bedroom door.

It took a couple of stops against the wall before you began hearing muffled voices in the dining room. Your fae healing had gotten you this far, but you weren’t entirely confident in your own movements.

Steeling yourself and taking a calming breath, you prepared yourself to see the Illyrian you were sure held your broken heart in his own two, scarred, hands. Right as you were about to round the corner, you stopped again when you heard the smooth timbre of his voice rumbling through the room.

“And nobody thought to fucking tell her that?”

Realizing you were the topic of discussion, you decided to stop the inevitable and make your presence known. You only made it two steps into the room before every head snapped in your direction, and another two before your body was brutally crushed into an embrace.

“Oh, thank the mother! I am so glad you’re alr- wai- what are you doing out of bed?!” Mor’s voice screeched against your ear. You could only wince as she bombarded you, her arms immediately pulling back as she jerked herself away from you.

You only smiled apologetically at her as her expression filled with guilt. It only took two seconds before that look turned into one of gratitude, her body coming in to hug you a lot more gently the second time around.

A round of agreements and scolds met you as Mor finally released you, your gaze jumping around the room to take in the entire inner circle. Out of nerves, your eyes purposely avoided the darkest corner of the room.

You could feel the cool drag of shadows as they assessed your frame, only steeling yourself further until they were content and sliding back to their master.

As all eyes stayed locked on your form, you finally cleared your throat once more before letting out a scratchy “Anyone got any water?”

After what felt like hours, you had finally finished explaining every detail of your mishap with the serpent like creature. Leaving out the tidbit about your rescue, everyone seemed content enough to begin parting for their own duties. With an order to rest and hydrate, you also turned to leave the dining room when a deep voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Can we talk?”

Your body felt frozen as you took in his voice. A mixture of exhaustion and sadness finding you from across the room.

Keeping your back turned to him, you let everybody else pass you by before swallowing your nerves and turning to face him.

You could only bring yourself to look at his chest, his fighting leathers now traded for a black shirt and trousers. You could see the daunting outline of his wings behind him, your fingers immediately coming to twist in front of you.

You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, gaze dropping as you waited for him to break the silence.

It took a few long moments, but the first words to leave him almost had your mouth dropping in shock.

“Can you look at me please?”

Your eyes immediately lifted to his own, a frown of confusion painting your face when you took in the sight of him.

His hair was disheveled as if he had been vigorously running his fingers through it, his under eyes dark and a shadow forming on the lower half of his face.

Just as you went to blurt out something, anything, his form crossed the room. He looked almost afraid to get too close to you, choosing instead to stop with a good yard of distance between you.

Your eyes flickered between his own as you processed your thoughts, unsure what you were really supposed to say. Before you could get out a word, his rough voice stopped you again.

“How are you feeling?”

You were a bit taken aback by his question. A few embarrassing stutters leaving you before you finally coughed up a quick “Good. I feel pretty good.”

Your fingers kept violently twisting as he eyed you up and down, your brain bouncing a million different questions around before it finally settled on one.

You didn’t even have a moment to second guess before the words were forcing past your lips.

“Am I your mate?”

A look of certain shock passed over Azriel’s face before he steeled himself again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His hand came up to run through his hair as his face portrayed the inner turmoil clearly a jumbled mess in his brain.

“I only ask because before that… snake thing… attacked me it hissed out something along the lines of ‘the spymaster’s mate’ and it really confused me because after the party I’m not really sure what’s going on. I understand if you were planning to reject the bond for that female but why string me along before then, you know? I thought something was forming between us but now I think I might have just been exaggerating things in my own mind- I mean, that woman was beautiful, and I understand why you would choose her over me but-“

You only stopped to take a breath as Azriel roared a growl, your body flinching back as he whirled towards the dining table. He looked as if he was about to break something before his hand came up to rub at his chest.

Your shocked gaze stared at his back as his shoulders heaved, his wings twitching wildly before pulling tightly back into their normal position.

A sigh that carried the weight of the world left him before he whirled back around, his legs taking two more steps toward you. His hand reached out as if to touch you before he seemingly thought better of it and brought it back to pinch at the bridge of his nose instead.

“Reject you? Y/n, please, you’re killing me.” his face held nothing but anguish as he brought his gaze back up to meet yours. “Rhysand asked me to escort that female to the party. She was linked to some Illyrian’s we’ve been monitoring and he wanted me to get more intel. Fuck, I would’ve never- I never- Cassian was supposed to tell you. He was supposed to tell you before the party started but he was too busy following Nesta around like a lost pu- oh fuck this.”

He seemed to decide against the last part of his explanation before he closed the rest of the distance between you. Your breath caught at the proximity when his hands came up to cradle your jaw, his eyes piercing yours as a confused furrow took over your brow.

Without realizing, your hands came up to grip his forearms, your eyes fleeting between his own as you processed his words.

His body only pressed closer to yours as you hesitated, the gears running a mile a minute in your mind.

“I swear to you, y/n. There is no one else in this galaxy I would’ve rather been with than you. I hate that you even questioned my feelings for you. I’m yours. I have been since the day we met.”

His eyes only intensified his words as you searched them, the gold flecks throughout his orbs almost glowing as they locked with yours.

You felt the trail of a tear before you could stop it, your lip wobbling for a reason unbeknownst to you. Azriel was quick to wipe it away, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His voice lowered to a whisper as he continued.

“I almost lost it when I heard you were missing. I don’t even remember leaving the party or how I knew where to find you. I would tear this world apart inch by inch if it meant keeping you safe, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

Your breath shuddered through a gasp as more tears made their way down your cheeks. Letting your eyes fall closed, you shook your head against his before meeting his gaze again.

“So basically you’re saying that my disappearance was a slight overreaction?” you whispered, your teeth finding your lip as you waited for his reaction, a smile threatening to break out on your face.

Azriel shuddered a laugh of disbelief, his hands pulling you fully into his embrace. You could’ve sworn you saw a slight wetness in his eyes before your face was tucked firmly into his neck.

You and Azriel had reluctantly split after your embrace caused a sudden twinge in your side, his warmth immediately turning into panic at the wince that left your lips.

You had parted with the promise that you would get some rest before finding him in the morning to finish your conversation.

Flipping harshly onto your other side, you sighed in frustration as sleep continued to evade you. Every time you closed your eyes you saw manicured nails, serpent like eyes, and the look on Azriel’s face as it assessed your form on the floor of the woods. Also, the mantra of mate, mate, mate playing on a loop in your mind didn’t help.

Kicking the blankets off of your legs, you didn’t give yourself time to rethink your movements as you tiptoed out of your bedroom and towards Azriel’s. Pausing at his door, you let your knuckles lightly tap the surface before you heard a quick “Come in”.

Pushing past the threshold, you let the door close behind you before you made yourself as small as possible in his doorway. Wringing your fingers again, you slowly gazed up at Azriel, sitting wide awake in bed with a book resting on his chest.

You twisted your mouth in contemplation before letting out a small “I can’t sleep.”, your gaze dropping to your bare feet before snapping back up at the sound of rustling blankets.

Azriel had lifted his duvet, his body sliding further into the bed as he gestured for you to join him.

Shyly stalking towards his bed, you gently climbed into the open space next to him before his hands immediately made contact and brought you into his embrace.

The position almost ended up being a horizontal hug, your head tucked under his chin. One arm was wrapped around your waist as the other rested under your head, his hand coming up to twist a strand of your hair. His wing folded over the both of you, the lights instantly dimming into a soft glow through the membrane.

You slowly tilted your head back to meet his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you took in his features. Letting it out as a whisper, you started with “I’m sorry for bothering you..” only to be immediately cut off.

Azriel tucked your head back into his neck, his chest rising with a deep inhale before he whispered back.

“Shhh. This is the best moment of my life.”

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Azriel Shadowsinger x Reader

summary: After Amarantha is defeated, someone returns home to Velaris.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: angst but fluff, war-mongering Hybern, reader described as something like an assassin/spy, reader is Rhys’ sister, no use of Y/N (I think), guilt, Azriel is a simp for his mate, mating bond, more fluff, allusions to smut-time

author’s note: I missed writing for Az. I should do that more often. I'm not all that happy with the end, but we have to deal with that (sorry). Dividers by @chrisssiren

He had been pacing all month long.

He had grated everyone’s nerves, too.

Ever since Rhys had returned from Under the Mountain, Azriel had been restless, impatient, almost bordering on being rude on some occasions. They knew why. Everyone knew why the spymaster was barely consolable, why his eyes snapped toward the horizon every once in a while, why his attention drifted off during council meetings, family dinners, and sparring sessions. They knew why he threw himself into work more than he had already done in the past, why he barely stepped across the threshold of the rooms he occupied in the House of Winds, why he looked as if sleep evaded him at any given moment.

They all knew, and no one could do a single thing about it but to… wait.

Feyre watched the shadowsinger, too. She had found her place within this beautiful city, within the tight-knit group of friends and family—she herself found a family within—had even found love without being destroyed, and yet, worry still gnawed at her whenever her eyes landed on Azriel. She recognized the longing and fear written in his eyes for what they were, but did not understand the cause of it. No one would tell her because, as Rhys had spoken quietly one night in front of the fireplace, “It is his life and story to tell, Feyre darling.”

And she could accept that, not wanting to push anyone, and especially not the male himself, when he already hung by a mere thread.

But then, in one of the council meetings she now sat in on herself, Cassian let something slip, causing a reaction from the spymaster. “No one has heard of her so far. Mor?” The blonde shook her head with worry written on her forehead. “Not yet. Perhaps she went into hiding? Or she is…” Her voice softly trailed off, a careful glance thrown across the table at Azriel, whose face was a blank canvas except for his eyes, burning like embers. His hand, flipping through the pages of reports, was now balled into a fist, knuckles almost turning pale. “She is not dead,” he growled, a warning lingering in his voice.

Feyre watched on, watched the way his shoulders stiffened, how his breath hitched ever so slightly, before he ripped his gaze from Mor and the others, staring out the window toward the horizon, eyes growing distant as if he were searching for something within. With worry, she looked at Rhys sitting at the head of the table next to her, who himself watched his brother and best friend with slightly furrowed brows, contemplating, thinking, weighing.

“I will try to reach out to one of our…—” Azriel’s eyes snapped to the High Lord, silencing him immediately. “She is our only spy in the region; you know that as well as I do because she was already there before everything. And she has not answered.” Deafening silence settled over the council, and Feyre watched her mate swallow hard, color draining from his face, and now, she knew something was very much wrong.

Hours later, she sank into his open arms without hesitation, feeling them wrap around her tightly, and a sigh as deep as the ocean left Rhysand when he settled deeper into the couch. She looked up at him and softly touched his cheek, making him look away from the fire and down at her. “Tell me what worries you and everyone else so much, please.” She hated to be left out of it, reminding her of her time at the Spring Court—Rhys seemingly noticed it too, because another sigh left him before his fingers started to caress her hair.

“You know I have a sister.” She nodded slowly. “I’m still wondering when I’ll finally meet her, to be honest.” Rhys smiled softly, sadness etched into his features. “I wish I could tell you, darling. See, before everything happened, before Amarantha, she was a spy just like Azriel and many others. She was—is—one of our best. She has ties to Summer because she is friends with Tarquin, their new High Lord, and knows her way around the courts. But when Amarantha trapped us and I had to protect Velaris, she was on a mission in Autumn and locked out of the city after the protective barrier was reinforced.” Feyre slowly sat up. “And she has not returned,” she finished quietly, making him nod, fear swimming in his eyes. “No one knows where she is or what happened. Perhaps she is on her way already, or is waiting for something, maybe she has a task yet to fulfill. We don’t know—I don’t know. And that worries me.”

Shadows moved against the menacing castle as if they had turned sentient, crawling across the bone-colored stones, growing darker and deeper as soon as patrolling guards passed, torches flickering in the approaching dimness of nightfall. No one seemed to notice, no one paid attention, heeding it no mind.

A pair of brilliant eyes emerged from the shadows behind a towering war tent, glancing around the outermost pole of the structure and watching men in armor and uniforms pass along the many winding paths throughout the war camp. Boots stomping in mud, torches flickering in the gusts of wind, clouds slowly closing in for yet another rainfall, slightly obscuring the setting sun. She watched, counting silently in her mind, tracking faces and bodies, brows slightly furrowed underneath her black hood. When the clearing in front of the war tent was void of any Fae or being, she slid toward the flapping covers of its entrance, slipping inside it without being noticed.

Quietly, she went to the large table in the middle of it, leaving no trace of trespassing. Gloved fingers started to flip through the many notes and letters, eyes jumping across information upon information, memorizing most of it with a glance. She would need to take a parchment roll or two just to have proof, despite knowing her family would never question her—but this was bigger than just her court. So much bigger, it almost transported her back to yet another brewing war, forcing memories into the light of day she had tried to forget as best as she could.

The intruder shook her head, gloved fingers choosing the most important notes as if she would choose a book in the library—covered fingertips almost lazily moving across the many rolls, skillfully and carefully picking the chosen ones without disturbing the surrounding letters. Her trophies entered the hidden pocket in her long black coat, protecting them against the weather during her travels, and after scouring a chest to the right of the wooden table, she even pocketed a map of Hybern and Prythian, strategic points of interest, possible allies, and Hybern’s standing forces drawn on it with blood-red ink.

How fitting, she thought with a snarl hidden in the shadows of her hood and mask covering the lower half of her striking face.

She was just done folding the map to fit it in the hidden pocket alongside its treacherous companions when voices drew closer to the tent, making her still for a fraction of a second, head snapping up and eyes staring toward the entrance. The flaps of the tent were drawn back, allowing a general and his escort to enter, servants piling in behind them, carrying glasses and carafes on tablets, and no one noticed the missing documents nor the figure vanishing underneath the tent’s fabric walls. Not even a patrolling group heard running feet across the already damp ground as the storm started to howl, while a female body jumped off the deep-diving cliffs and a pair of mighty wings carried her on the stormy winds across the sea, guiding her home.

Her steps were quiet in the halls dusted in the gold of dawn when she arrived on one of the many balconies, her wings aching from the long travel, but she could not rest—not with the longing grown to immeasurable depths. She had followed the golden band guiding her home after so many decades of lost time, guilt eating at her.

But he would understand.

They all would because ever since stepping into her roles all these centuries ago, everyone knew she would never start a mission and abandon it halfway through.

With a soundless sigh, she let her wings draw back underneath her skin, allowing them to rest, her feet carrying her across the familiar stone floor and through familiar hallways, until voices echoed through them. Her lips tucked into a smile she rarely had reason to show ever since leaving her home, but she would do better now. Now, she finally would have reason again to laugh until her belly ached and tears threatened to spill. Now, the nights wouldn’t be so lonely and cold anymore.

“Tarquin has not seen her for over two decades—at least that’s what he is telling.”

Quiet as a shadow as she was, the female leaned against the open double door with crossed arms and crossed legs, watching the council debate. The familiar sight made her heart ache in the best possible way, and she could scold herself for not coming home sooner. But things had to be done, and they would profit from it. Perhaps it would be enough for a head start in the war to come.

“Well…,” she began in her soft voice, making everyone freeze before turning all at once with filled cups being the bearer of the surprise, some tipping and falling, “I hope he better tells the truth. If not, I would question his sanity.”

No one dared to move, as if seeing a ghost, with the exception of one male. Her gaze was immediately forced to watch him, to watch his tall form rise from his chair with so much urgency, the poor thing toppled over behind his strong thighs, wings rustling and flexing, long strides carrying him toward her in a matter of seconds. Without so much as a word, Azriel’s strong, familiar arms wrapped around her smaller body and swooped her up in his embrace, feet dangling several inches above the floor, before they crossed themselves over each ankle, bending her knees and arms wrapping around his neck to pull her closer against him without being a wet sack of grain just hanging off of him, face burrowing into his shoulder.

His smell enveloped her within heartbeats, making her head dizzy and her lungs take one greedy, deep breath at a time, almost moaning at how good it felt to be held close by him again. Her still gloved fingers buried themselves in the short dark hair at the nape of his neck where it had always slightly curled and still kept doing so, as if no time at all had passed. She felt his warm face pressed into the crook of her neck, just where it had always rested so perfectly, felt his lips on the sliver of skin peeking out from under her assassin’s attire, as he loved to call her get-up for missions. Azriel’s hands moved softly, adjusting their hold, until one arm was wrapped tighter around her waist, and his other hand moved up to her neck, holding her face closer to his shoulder and, subsequently, his neck.

“My love,” traveled along their bond, and finally hearing his voice within her mind again made the female almost cry. But she kept her composure—for now. She knew she would break down the moment they would finally be alone again when she begged him for forgiveness for staying away longer than necessary after Amarantha had been vanquished, for locking herself away from their bond. “Az,” she whispered against the skin of his neck, followed by a soft kiss pressed to it.

A throat was cleared behind them, but neither of them moved, still clinging to each other, still breathing each other in. Then, she felt Az’s muscles tighten when a hand found his back, softly patting him. “Azriel,” Rhysand spoke gently, but in warning, making the spymaster growl deep in his throat, but it moved him to put her down with aching slowness nonetheless. She didn’t mind, of course. She would prefer staying wrapped up in him for the next ten or so years, but she knew this wouldn’t be possible, not with the knowledge she held.

The moment she had both feet on the ground again, Azriel rounded her, pressing himself against her back, molding his chest against her, a hand possessively tightening its grasp around her right hipbone. She threw a glance over her shoulder, a brow slightly lifted, and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his brooding features, displeasure clearly evident for everyone to see. She also knew that he wouldn’t have any of it for much longer, ready to throw her across his shoulder to carry her off.

Certainly not against her own wishes for the foreseeable future.

Rhys stepped closer, observing the hand resting on her hip and clearly looking unimpressed at Az looming above her shoulder. “Don’t be like that,” she warned him, making her brother stare down at her in mock offense. “Like what? I do not know what you could possibly mean by that.” Eye rolling, she was now the one looking unimpressed at him, humor concealed. “Don’t make a fuss about him because I can assure you we won’t be staying all that much longer if it goes my way.”

A soft chuckle was ripped right out of the High Lord, then before his hands both found her shoulders, squeezing them, and his face turned serious. “We were worried. I was worried,” he dared to admit his weakness when it came to her. She knew Rhysand was no one who admitted to having soft spots and weaknesses, especially not when it came to other courts, but that was why she cherished those moments even more. “I know, and I am sorry for not coming home sooner.” Her eyes drifted across her shoulder back to where Azriel kept his watch, trying not to force her all-consuming guilt across the bond and probably failing miserably because he already shook his head slowly, his hand at her hip, squeezing in reassurance.

“But I had to see it for myself,” the High Fae added, and Rhys watched her with interest. She smiled and beckoned him closer, kissing his cheek and disheveling his hair with a hand and a giggle, “I promise, I am alright. No bruises, no broken bones, everything where it should be.” It was a promise to him, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor. She knew Amren wouldn’t care if she had a dislocated shoulder for all she knew, but the other four? They would be devastated—and would hit her until she admitted being reckless and forcing her to spend the next decade merely at home, wrapped up in blankets and pillows.

Rhysand nodded and made her step up to the table while lacing her fingers with the quiet Azriel behind her, tugging him along. When she stood next to Mor, she pulled her friend into her side and smiled at the blonde, both kissing each other’s cheeks. “I am so glad to have you back home in one piece,” the other female whispered and gave her wrist a squeeze. “I know. Breakfast at the Sidra sometime next week?” The spy knew a certain spymaster would never let her leave their rooms for the entire rest of the week. Mor smiled, nodding, and then she turned and smiled at the female standing across from her she had heard so much about ever since finding herself in the Spring Court as a human. “Do you might want to come along? I would love to know how someone as capable as you has gotten herself tangled up with my buffoon of a brother.”

Immediately, she knew she had said the right thing because Feyre’s entire face morphed from insecure and almost scared into a wide, perhaps a bit shy smile. “I would very much like that,” she agreed with a chuckle while Rhys rolled his eyes at his sister’s antics. “You have been back for only a minute, and already you’re inciting unbecoming behavior.” Showing him her tongue, the High Lord sighed in defeat, mumbling about it while she let go of Azriel’s hand for only a moment, turning the male into something restless. His hand immediately searched for her body, anything to hold onto her, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side until she was tightly pressed against him.

She did not mind in the slightest. Quite the opposite—she reveled in it. A warning glance was thrown across the table toward Cassian, whose mouth was already opening to make a quip about it. “Do not make me warn you verbally, Cass.”Both hands rose, and she nodded, pulling out her prized possessions.

The second Azriel had gotten a better look at the map she just unfolded, he took a deep breath, his fingers flexing against her side, his entire body becoming rigid. A finger under her chin made her look up at him in his slightly widened eyes, cheeks paling under his sun-kissed skin. “Do not tell me you were where I think you were, love,” he whispered, pure terror etching into his face. One of her hands cupped his cheek within a blink of an eye, softly shaking her head. “It is not the way you think it is. They did not see me, did not catch me. I am hard to catch if you recall, especially if I do not want to be found. And I did not want to be found with my hands in their war-mongering correspondence.”

Turning back to the table, she flattened the map and unrolled the three letters she had decided to take with her. “Hybern plans a war and we may have an upper hand, at least at this point. I only took so much that they would not suspect anything amiss, and if they do, they perhaps might think the letters merely misplaced. I have more information, but I couldn’t take everything with me, so you will receive a written recollection as soon as I find the time for it, brother dearest. But these… these might help convince everyone else. And I will start with Tarquin myself if you do not mind, Rhys.”

Her High Lord stared unmoving at her, making her almost uncomfortable in his scrutiny, while Cassian lowly whistled and Mor swallowed hard. Azriel continued to be rigid beside her, watching only her.

“Remind me again to never be placed on your bad side, sister,” Rhys spoke, making her grin in delight. “Don’t try to find yourself there, and everything will be fine, Rhy.” The familiar name from their youth—because she had long struggled with the letter s and the sound of it—made him almost smile before nodding toward the door. “Go on. We will discuss this tomorrow if you could both arrange it. And don’t be too… loud.” Something resembling disgust crossed his face, and he had to physically shake himself, making her laugh in more delight before a squeal was ripped out of her throat when Azriel just… took her by her hips and hoisted her on his broad shoulder with astonishing ease, leaving the council room with purposeful strides, her bright laugh echoing off the familiar hallway walls.

Grey morning light kissed the vanishing darkness of night, few stars clinging to their places across the sky as she watched the change of colors from their bed, a soft smile dusting her lips. Being home felt good, rejuvenating in a way the female had stopped hoping for in order to suppress the longing growing inside her heart. Now, she almost felt foolish for not returning sooner, perhaps before she would have gone to Hybern, just for a day or two—not that Azriel would have allowed her to leave again so soon in those circumstances.

Quiet steps padded across the wooden floor and the plush carpet before the bed softly groaned under the Illyrian’s trained form, making the mattress dip slightly. A heartbeat later, she could feel his soft lips against her shoulder blade, his skilled fingers caressing the bare skin of her exposed side, following the curve of her hips and waist up to her shoulder. When he pressed his warm, bare chest against her unclothed back, his fingers cupped her chin and made her head turn in his direction, blindly searching for his lips, which he oh so happily offered up for her.

“I could hear you think across the room, sweetheart,” Azriel mumbled against the plumpness of her lips after so many hours of kissing and debauchery. “I did no such thing.” It was followed by a giggle when his arms enveloped her body anew, making her turn and pulling her flush against him, gazing at her face as if to memorize it yet again. “You admit having no thoughts whatsoever after what I did to you, love? Oh, you know how to stoke a male’s ego,” he chuckled, smile morphing into that rare, wide-spreading grin she loved so dearly after slapping his shoulder. She would spend every gemstone in the vaults to have that grin immortalized in a portrait. But Az would never allow her such things, not when it came to him, at least.

The female had stopped counting how many portraits there existed merely of her and merely for his enjoyment.

She obviously did not mind.

She might mock him for his obsession, but she would also melt at the feeling of the soul-deep love he held for her.

A hand cupped his strong jawline, a thumb started to caress the warm skin of his cheek, eyes staring into his. She felt his relaxed body relax a bit more, felt him melt into her without having to think about it. Not anymore. They were past that particular point ever since she had defended him against a group of Illyrian men, only for him to pull her behind him and shout at her for being so reckless after they went home. She could still hear Rhys’ deep chuckle when he had found them still arguing and shouting insults at one another—only for them to share their first kiss after being left to their own devices.

Their naked bodies pressed against each other, no leaf fitting between them. And then, she felt the tears gather, felt her breath hitch ever so softly, alerting Azriel, who was so in tune with her, it was impossible to hide anything from him.

“I am sorry,” she dared to whisper, forcing a sob down, not allowing it to escape. He kissed her right then and there, silencing her for a moment or two. “We have lost so much time,” the female continued, finally allowing her to consider the many lonely decades lying behind her. It almost broke her heart thinking about what Azriel might have thought when she didn’t return home. Had he doubted her? Himself? Had he thought she had abandoned him for someone else?

The possibility almost killed her.

Az made her look at him, foreheads almost touching, and his shadows gathered closer, one smoky tendril gently started to caress her hair while his fingers flexed against her back, holding her tight. “There was not a single minute I existed where I thought you wouldn’t have wanted me any longer, my darling. I never thought you abandoned me, never thought you found someone better. Perhaps there was a moment filled with fear when I stared across the city, wishing, beseeching you to appear at the horizon, and perhaps thought I lost you. That perhaps you had been caught, shutting me out in order to protect me, and that someone has killed you.” She watched him with wide, fearful, and teary eyes when he had to pause for a moment, staring unblinkingly at her, reminding himself that she was safe in his arms, still breathing. “I was not good company in those weeks,” he dared to mumble. “Cass had to lock me up for a day or two because I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave and find whoever had done you wrong. But then… Well, Mor got through to me, to put it mildly. And I knew you were out there, somewhere, hiding, waiting. Waiting to come home.”

She quickly nodded at that because she had wanted to come home so badly, it had physically hurt.

“We may have lost five decades, my love, but it is not the end of the world. Whatever is coming our way, we will survive that too, just as we have survived the last war. And when all is over, I want to fulfill your dream of a cottage at a river, little wings flapping around and tiny feet running us into the ground every day of our existence—and we will fall into bed at night, exhausted to the bone, but feeling a happiness few can claim to have ever experienced,” Azriel promised in soft words, making her realize something of utmost importance. “We indeed shared a dream.” The Illyrian showed her favorite grin, silver brimming his hazel eyes. “I think we did, and I hope for it to happen more often.” She giggled through tears, holding onto him for dear life before she peppered his cheeks with whispers of kisses and took him in, breathing him in. “I love you like the air we breathe, Azriel. Ever since stumbling into you and forcing you to carry my books like the spoiled little Fae I was, I knew I would grow to need you to be able to live. And I was right because a world without you is a cruel one,” the female dared to whisper, meaning every word.

If he were injured or worse in their fight against Hybern… The High Fae wasn’t sure what she would do to herself.

Azriel kissed the tip of her nose gently. “I think I remember that particular encounter a bit differently. I seem to recall how smitten I was and how much I egged you to let me carry them.” The same unchanged grin found its place on his face, making her realize yet another thing:

Azriel was the one the Mother above had created for her, and she would thank her for all eternity as she melted against his strong chest, where she had always found her peace.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this one for Azriel. Thank you for reading my silly little writings. Please consider leaving a reblog, a comment, and a like ♡

[aroace-ryland-grace]

I NEED to write fanfiction <- guy who is not writing fanfiction

[littlefireling]

For @lucienweekofficial Day 1 - Fireling

Our Fireling and Nyx sending a small flame into the night sky 💗.

I really hope we get to see Lucien interacting with Nyx in the upcoming books, I think he would be such a fun and loving uncle 💕.

Art by: @moussedoodles

Commissioned by me: @littlefireling

Tysm to the lovely @moussedoodles!!! 😭💗 You are so kind and talented!!! You took a sloppy stick drawing I made for you and turned it into THIS?? I am absolutely mind blown. Thank you again 🫶🥹

[velidewrites]

I'm redesigning Eris for the 1,226th time this year :') Just in time for Eris Week

+ i'm so sorry if you already saw this i just realized i could've posted the (somewhat) colored version oop

[erissheiress]

it has been so long since I've posted anything here!! but im almost finished my college exams so im gonna try be more active over the summer.. so what do we think?

what would ye like to see

more blurbs (rhys, cassian, azriel, eris, lucien - pls lmk which!)

more blurbs (feyre, mor)

full length fics (lmk for which characters!)

Voting ended onMay 10

cant wait to have time for more writing!!

[erissheiress]

Are you back?

like for writing? sure! I guess i never really intended to go, life just got busy! but sure, im back 😁

[theredcrane]

A little something to celebrate the ACOTAR 6&7 announcement! Can’t wait to see my parents again

[vaieart]

To the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered 🌌💫

[tunetales]

I thought you were dead! (Eris x Reader)

——————————————————————————

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: Two different scenarios where you and Eris say to each other, “I thought you were dead!”

Authors Note: Some angst and mentions of injuries below.

——————————————————————————

“I thought you were dead!”

The words tear out of you the second you see him.

Eris barely has time to react before you’re there - hands fisting his armour, breath coming too fast, vision blurring as the reality of him standing in front of you finally crashes through the panic that’s been choking you for hours.

“I looked everywhere,” you gasp. “They said your troops were the worst hit when Hybern-“ Your voice breaks hard. “I thought you were dead.”

Eris freezes.

Not because you’re touching him in front of several people - despite your bond being largely a secret still - but because you’re shaking hard. Because your eyes are wild with terror that still hasn’t faded, hasn’t caught up with the truth, despite him standing in front of you.

He cups your face immediately, grounding, thumbs brushing urgently beneath your eyes. “Hey. Look at me.”

You do - barely holding it together.

“I’m here,” he says firmly. “I’m not badly hurt.” He sees your eyes flicker to the deep, nasty gash trailing down the side of his face. “I’m standing right in front of you.”

Your breath stutters. “I watched them carry Autumn troop bodies back,” you whisper. “I couldn’t find you.”

His jaw tightens at that. “I was diverted,” he says. “I got separated, further east.”

“You didn’t come back,” you choke. “You didn’t answer through the bond when I called you.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

That’s when it finally hits you.

Your knees nearly give out as the tension leaves your body all at once, and Eris catches you instantly, pulling you hard against his chest. You cling to him without shame, uncaring if anyone notices, fingers digging in like you're afraid he’ll vanish if you loosen your grip.

“I can’t-“ you sob into his shoulder. “I can’t do that again.”

He closes his eyes, holding you just as tightly. “You won’t,” he murmurs. “Not alone. Not like that.”

His fire flares instinctively, wrapping around you warm and protective, like it’s just as relieved as you are. One hand cradles the back of your head, pressing your face into his neck as he breathes you in.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly after a moment.

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes red. “I’m not the one with my face sliced open, and you want to know if I’m okay?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. His eyes run quickly up and down, checking for any serious injuries beyond the scrapes, cuts and bruises he can see.

Your laugh is wet and broken. “Idiot.”

“Yours,” he replies without hesitation.

You rest your forehead against his, breathing him in like proof - real, solid, alive.

“I don’t know what would I’d do if I lost you,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your brow, lingering. “You didn’t,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And you believe him.

——————-

“What are you two doing here?”

The snarl startles you.

“I thought you were dead!”

The words are flat. Accusatory. Utterly unreasonable.

You blink up at Eris from where you’re slumped against the bar, Lucien beside you mid-laugh with a glass in hand. “Wow,” Lucien says. “Hello to you too.”

Eris ignores Lucien completely and points at you. “You said you’d be in our rooms.”

“I was,” you reply. “And then Lucien said there was better wine here.”

Lucien lifts his glass. “There was.”

Eris looks like he’s about three seconds away from committing murder.

“I searched the entire west wing,” Eris continues, voice tight. “The kitchens. The gardens. The library. None of the sentries could tell me where you were.”

You wince.

“I was prepared to assume the worst,” he says. “Kidnapping. Poisoning. A duel.”

Lucien snorts. “A duel?”

“With anyone,” Eris snaps. “Even you brother.”

You slide off the barstool and step towards him, swaying slightly. “Eris,” you say gently, patting his chest before poking his nose. “I’m right here. I was perfectly safe the whole time.”

“That’s not the point,” he says, folding his arms. “The point is you vanished.”

“For one drink,” you protest.

Lucien coughs. “Several.”

Eris’s eyes flick to his brother. Slowly. Dangerously.

“This,” he says, very clearly, “is the last time you disappear with one of my brothers without telling me.”

Lucien raises a brow. “You don’t own her.”

Eris’s glare intensifies. “I don’t trust you, or anyone, with my mate.”

You bite back a laugh at his anger, knowing it was the worst way to calm the situation. The alcohol buzzing through your bloodstream had other ideas however. “You really thought I was dead?”

“Yes,” he says stiffly. “For a full ten minutes.”

“That’s not very long.”

“That’s an eternity.”

Lucien drains his glass. “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” Eris snarls.

“For keeping her alive for one-“ A hiccup interrupts him. “And two, for introducing her to our new favourite drinking spot.”

Eris finally looks at him. “Get out.”

Lucien grins. “Gladly, to get away from the party pooper.

He pats your shoulder as he passes. “Next time next week, yeah?”

You bite your lip to keep your smile at bay as Eris growls at him as he passes.

You turn back to Eris, still sulking, arms crossed, jaw set. “I’m sorry my love,” you say, trying very hard not to smile as your words slur slightly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He exhales, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

You step closer, looping your arms around his waist. “I’ll make sure to tell you next time, I promise.”

“There will not be a next time,” he says immediately.

You tilt your head. “So…I’m banned from Lucien?”

“Yes.”

“For life?”

“Preferably.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his throat. He pretends not to soften - but his arms come around you anyway.

“I was really worried,” he admits quietly. “My father is capable of terrible things. You remember what happened with Jesmin-“

“I know, and I’m sorry for not thinking of telling you I was leaving,” you interrupt him, leaning back with one of your hands resting on his chest.

You can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Lucien and I just wanted to have some funnnnnn,” you whine. “And you were taking so long in your meeting with your father’s advisors.”

Guilt gnaws at Eris’s temper, softening it even more. He knew moving to Autumn had been difficult for you, and in truth, he was grateful you had Lucien to look out for you in rare moments like this.

He’d never admit that out loud though. Especially after this.

“Plus I would kick anyone’s ass who tried to kidnap me, like this-“

You try - and completely fail - at demonstrating a kick to Eris, who is forced to dive to catch you as you stumble, almost falling flat on your face in the process.

“Okay, that’s enough. Time to get you home,” he insists as he steadies your swaying form.

“I can walk,” you try to insist.

Eris simply rolls his eyes, scooping you up easily into his arms, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he tries to keep his amused smirk at bay. You protest for a few seconds, before latching onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling into his chest.

“You love me,” you mumble into his neck.

Eris snorts at your drunken rambling, “Unfortunately.”

“And I love youuuu-,” you reply with a yawn.

Eris presses a kiss to your hair. Despite his initial terror, he could never truly be angry with you. He would give you the world if you asked him for it.

As he carries you out, patrons try very pointedly to not look at the heir of Autumn Court hauling a tipsy menace back to the Forest House.

Eris mutters under his breath, “I’m never letting Lucien babysit you again.”

[majuandrad]

I collided into you 🌌💜

[togeppy]

with a bow on top ;

azriel x reader summary: reader had been sent on a mission on the continent for weeks, and was going to miss this year’s solstice celebration. rhysand decided that the only way to cure a brooding azriel was a surprise visit home from his mate.  wc: 2.4k

The Inner Circle knew Azriel well enough to tell that he was brooding. On a regular day, most people mistook the spymaster's usual silence for agitation, but his family knew that he simply preferred to listen. His behaviour for the last six weeks however - this had become incessant brooding. 

The first two weeks you were gone, he was tolerable. Given your positions in the court, both of you were used to being sent away for brief trips that separated you. You had learned how to cope with small lengths of time away from each other. He had gone about his days as usual; training in the morning with Cassian, and checking in with his spies in the afternoon for any new information.

The next three weeks, he was on edge. It wasn’t uncommon for a mission to stretch on for a month, but the distance definitely wasn’t comfortable. By this point, Azriel had resorted to keeping himself occupied at any given moment - he stayed out all day, and drank at night to keep himself from dwelling on how much he missed having you by his side. It snowed plenty in those weeks, and he had to stop himself from scowling in your absence each time he remembered the way you would light up at the sight of the snow falling outside your window. 

By the sixth week, the Inner Circle knew to tread lightly around the male. Everyone around him was abuzz at the spirit of solstice, but the shadowslinger had no holiday spirit. You wouldn’t be returning until just before the new year, and he didn’t feel very festive without you. Mor would ask him what he wanted as a solstice gift, and he simply huffed in response. His brothers had endless smack talk, taunting each other over who would win this year’s snowball fight, but the male stayed silent - he didn’t care about the outcome because he wouldn’t have you there to celebrate his victory. 

Azriel did what he could to not put a damper on everyone else’s solstice spirit - he helped decorate the river house to make sure everything was orderly, he bought everyone gifts, and made sure to get Nyx a few noisy toys that would give Rhys a headache. On solstice morning, he got up with his brothers to participate in the annual snowball fight, and he put in as much effort as he could muster. He did enough to put a smile on his family’s faces, but he wasn’t fully present. He wouldn’t be, unless you were there with him. 

As evening arrived, the entire family gathered at the river house to eat dinner together, celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and open presents. The group had chosen to open presents first this year - Nyx couldn’t stay awake long enough, so they decided to get the gifts out of the way and enjoy an adult-only dinner when he had been put to bed. 

Everyone wanted to see Nyx’s reaction to his gifts, so he opened them first while the others watched. The toddler giggled at the sound of wrapping paper being opened, and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face at the child’s glee. You might not have been there, but his heart still felt warm being with the rest of his family. The happiness in the room was contagious, and despite the shadows skittering restlessly around the room, he felt at peace with his family around him. 

Rhys shot Azriel an annoyed look as Nyx opened up his final gift; a child’s drum kit that the shadowslinger had purchased with the sole intention of pissing off his brother. Feyre also looked weary as she looked at her son, who was already causing a ruckus with his new toy. 

“And to think I got you the best gift you could have asked for, and you punish me with this,” Rhys joked, exasperation in his voice. 

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “You got me the best gift I could have asked for? That’s high praise.” 

Rhys looked at his brother, a smug smile on his face. “If you can seriously think of any gift you’d like more than what I brought you, I will personally wear a tutu and go out into the streets of Velaris.”

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Did you buy him a palace or something, how are you this confident?”

Rhys simply shrugged, to which Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Well let’s see, if you’re so sure.”

Azriel couldn’t even begin to guess what Rhys had bought him. At their age, gift giving was hard - everyone already had every material item they needed, so the holidays were filled with gag gifts, or items that ended up in a drawer unused. The only thing he wanted for solstice was you, and the day had already proven to be lacking in that area. 

Rhys stood up and left the room with a mischievous smile on his face, everyone’s eyes trailing him. 

“What could he possibly have gotten?” Cassian asked no one in particular, trying to think of what his brother would have wanted as a gift. 

Nesta, who was pressed against Cassian’s side, looked to Feyre. “Are you in on this?” 

Feyre shook her head, equally as confused as everyone else in the room. “I have no idea what he got any of you.” 

Mor, on the other side of the room, crossed her arms. “Well whatever it is, he better have given this much consideration to all of our gifts, it’s no fair if Azriel gets something spectacular and the rest of us get mediocre gifts.” 

The High Lord reappeared in the doorway, a small box in his hands. Considering how much Rhys had been boasting about his present, everyone looked skeptically at the size of the box. 

“Are there keys to Azriel’s palace in that box?” Cassian muttered, though loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Rhys passed the box to Feyre, who handed it off to Azriel, the daemati’s eyes still twinkling with mischief. The box was small and surprisingly light, with a red ribbon tied around it for some festive flair. Azriel looked down at it, mildly afraid of whatever it contained. 

“Open it,” Rhys urged, leaning in the doorframe, everyone in the room watching expectantly. 

Azriel finally pried his eyes away from his brother, going to untie the ribbon. He took it off gently, and opened the lid of the box to find… 

“Gloves?” Mor asked, no doubt surprised that it was - frankly, a quite nice - pair of gloves inside the box. Azriel’s name was stitched into the material, but it was nowhere near the calibre of gift that everyone had begun expecting. 

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows together, thinking about how they’d all be seeing Rhys in a tutu very soon. He lifted his gaze to Rhys and started to make the retort when the words died on his tongue. 

While everyone had been focused on Azriel unboxing his new gloves, Rhys had moved out of the doorframe. The space where he had stood moments before was occupied by a new figure - one that had Azriel forgetting how to speak. You stood in the doorway, a big smile on your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a long red ribbon tying your hair back, identical to the one that had been wrapped around his gloves. Rhys had gifted Azriel you, served to him with a bow on top.

It was as if the world outside of the two of you faded away. Azriel’s heart began racing in his chest as the two of you locked eyes and if possible, your smile grew even further. 

The Illyrian barely heard his brother say “Happy Solstice”, before he had shot out of his seat and crossed the room so quickly that the others might have thought he winnowed. Within a matter of seconds, he had picked you up in a hug, his face lit up in pure joy. His shadows, which had been moving restlessly around all night finally focused, rushing towards you as quickly as their master had.

“Happy Solstice my love,” you whispered into his ear as he spun you around, and you could feel both of your hearts beating wildly in your chests as your bodies pressed against each other. Your mate finally set you down, and took your head in his hands as he examined your face. He was beaming, and took in every one of your features as if he wanted to never forget any detail about you. 

“I’ve missed you more than you can even imagine,” he muttered, finally moving to place his lips on yours. The two of you kissed like two people starved, desperate to make up for time lost in the last six weeks. You had gotten so lost in your reunion that you had forgotten you were in a room filled with family until Amren cleared her throat from across the room. 

“So, the brooding’s finally over.” 

You peeled yourself away from Azriel, slightly embarrassed, though happier than ever to finally be with your mate once again. Surely enough, the male who usually wore a stoic face like a uniform couldn’t stop looking as if his whole world revolved around you. 

“I wasn’t brooding,” he tried to defend himself, though his words contradicted his actions, given that he couldn’t peel his gaze from your face. 

Nesta scoffed, “You definitely were.”

Rhys laughed. “Cut them some slack, we’d all be the same if separated from our mates.” 

You and Azriel couldn’t even be bothered to nod your agreement as he took your hand and guided you back to where he had been seated. You pressed up against his side, looking at the box of gloves that were now on the floor. 

“Nice gloves,” you commented, your head going to rest on Azriel’s shoulder as you took everyone in. 

“I can’t tell if this means we’ll still be seeing Rhys in a tutu,” Cassian commented, eyes drifting down to the gloves again. 

Your face scrunched up in confusion, having missed that earlier part of the conversation. “A tutu?” 

“The gift Rhys was talking about was his wife, not the gloves, idiot,” Mor quipped, “Unless Az really can think of anything he would have wanted more.”

Azriel couldn’t deny it - Rhys was spot on. He had gotten him the one thing he wanted and nothing would beat having the one he loved in his arms after being away for so long. Although… “I can think of one thing.” 

Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, and you looked towards your husband, mildly offended that he would suggest that there was something he wanted more than you. “You can?” 

“Well, for her to have not left in the first place.” 

You rolled your eyes, and Rhys scoffed, leaning back in his chair. 

“That’s a technicality and you know it. Given the situation you were in, I got you the best possible gift.” Rhys disputed, crossing his arms with an eye roll. 

Azriel smirked at his brother before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Unfortunately we’re getting no ballerina Rhys this year.” 

For the rest of the evening, you and Azriel were in pure bliss. As your family opened gifts, you and Azriel shared stolen kisses, your hearts alight with joy. Laughter rang out all night, as you indulged in the wine and cracked jokes with your loved ones.

During dinner you stuffed yourself with delicacies, reveling in the family mealtime that you had yearned for every night. You shared stories of what your life had been like on the Continent for the last month, and your family caught you up on all that you had missed. 

You and Azriel couldn’t keep your hands off of each other; the spymaster kept one hand on your thigh at all times, and your hand constantly rested on top of his. When either of you needed the spare hand to eat, Azriel’s shadows slithered around your ankles, unwilling to let you go. The others poked fun at it, but they saw how happy the both of you were, and were finally happy to see you back at home. 

“We finally conquered Az’s winning streak at the snowball fight this year,” Cassian announced to you as he took a bite of a Feyre's birthday cake, “I took home the victory at last.” 

Azriel shook his head as he took a sip of his wine. “I demand a rematch. You only won because I wasn’t in the right state of mind. Now I could kick your ass.” 

“So you admit, you were brooding?” Rhys piped up, a taunting gaze shot towards Azriel, which caused you to laugh. “I will admit, it didn’t feel like a fair competition. I’m up for a rematch tomorrow morning.” 

“And we’re just nullifying my win? How is that fair?” Cassian complained.

“If you really thought you could win, you should be able to do it even when Azriel isn’t at a disadvantage,” you teased, to which Azriel smiled proudly, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss atop your knuckles. 

“Fine, I’ll show you that I can win tomorrow as well,” the general complied, turning his gaze to you, “But Azriel will be at a disadvantage tomorrow as well with how much you’ll wear him out tonight- ow!”

Before Cassian could finish his sentence, Azriel had dealt a swift kick to his brother’s shins under the table, earning small chuckles around the table.

“There’s no chance anyone’s beating me tomorrow. None.” Azriel stated, eyes staring into your own, blazing with a confidence you very rarely saw from the male.

Surely enough, as the snowball fight ended the next morning, the three brothers entered the cabin to greet the girls, who had opted to lounge there for the day. Rhys couldn’t hide the laughter on his face, while Cassian dragged his feet as he walked towards the birchin, pout clear for all to see. Azriel walked in last, a smug smile on his face. 

The spymaster reclaimed his winning streak, because when he looked at the cabin and saw you peering out, eyes hopeful and encouraging as you sipped your mug of hot chocolate, there was nothing that could stand in his way. After six long weeks he had you home, and with you by his side, he finally felt the solstice spirit. He was complete at last. 

[moonlitstoriess]

You Are My Only Truth- Rhysand x fem!reader

Summary: One overheard sentence. One High Lord pushed too far. One mistake that nearly breaks their bond.

Warnings: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, implied cheating (doesn't actually happen), Amren becoming a peacemaker (shocking), fluff towards the end

See masterlist

She didn't mean to overhear.

Truly, she hadn't. She'd only gone upstairs to find Rhys--she had felt the tug in their bond, the faint ache at the back of her ribs that always meant he was struggling more than he let on. She wanted to check on him. Maybe even convince him to sleep for more than two hours for once.

But when Y/N reached the hallway outside his study, she froze.

Voices. Cassian's. Azriel's. Low, serious.

And Rhys's--quiet, tired in a way that made her chest squeeze. She should have walked away.

She didn't.

"Rhys...you should tell her," Cass was saying.

"What's the point?" Rhys' voice came, rough. "She'll find out eventually."

Y/N's stomach hollowed. Find out...what?

Azriel's voice followed, soft but cutting. "It already looks bad. If she hears it the wrong way- "

"I know how it looks," Rhys snapped. Not angry, just frustrated. Defeated. "Cauldron, Az, I know."

Then Cassian, with a sigh:

"You've spent more time with her this week than with Y/N--your mate, may I add--anyone would get suspicious."

Y/N's heart stopped cold.

Her.

With her.

Who is this...her?

She stepped back without meaning to, the floorboards groaning softly under her heel-

And she panicked. She turned and slipped down the hallway before any of them could sense her, before Rhys could feel the spike of hurt through the bond. She buried it down, smothered it under a tight layer of control until she felt sick.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, her breathing was all wrong. Her mind was already devouring her alive.

Rhys had been pulling away for weeks. She tried to brush it off as stress, exhaustion, the endless demands placed on him--but gods, she felt him drifting like a tide she couldn't pull back. Late nights. Closed doors. That fading warmth in the bond that she tried so hard not to read into.

Three nights in a row. All with vague excuses: "meetings," "unexpected issues," "I'm sorry, love--another time."

And she believed him. She always believed him.

A soft, sweet scent she didn't recognise lingering on his clothes days ago. She'd asked, testing, light-hearted. Rhys had brushed it off with a too-casual, "Probably from someone I walked past."

But now...now that excuse burned like a lie.

It was a lie.

Her palms were cold. Her throat tight.

Rhys wouldn't cheat. He wouldn't.

But the words she heard, the tone he used, the exhaustion, the distance-

It all twisted together until she couldn't breathe.

Maybe this was why he'd been so withdrawn. Maybe she'd done something wrong. Maybe...maybe he no longer loves her.

And the cruelest past?

The bond between them was quiet. Muted. Like he'd thrown up walls to keep her from feeling too much. From finding out. Her steps faltered as her vision blurred for a heartbeat.

The Mother above, what if he really didn't want her anymore?

Y/N woke up alone.

Again.

Rhys's side of the bed was cold, the sheets barely rumpled--as if he hadn't even tried to sleep beside her. The bond between them throbbed faintly, a dull, weary ache that told her he was still awake, still working, still somewhere she wasn't invited.

She stared at the empty pillow for a long moment, something tightening painfully beneath her ribs. Yesterday's overheard words replayed like a curse. It looped. And looped. And looped.

By midday, she wasn't angry. Not yet. She was...hollow.

She went about her day in a daze--smiling at conversations she couldn't remember, her thoughts always snapping back to the same poisonous possibilities.

Every time the door opened, she looked up.

Every time footsteps sounded down the hall, her heart leapt.

She kept expecting Rhys to appear--tired, apologetic, reaching for her.

He didn't.

He didn't even send a mental touch through the bond. Not one flicker of reassurance. Not one warm pulse to say I'm thinking of you.

It was silence.

And silence--she learned--was the sharpest blade of all.

By nighttime, the hollowness had clarified into something colder. Harder. Her chest felt tight and metallic, her breathing shallow as she sat curled on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket that did nothing to warm her.

When the clock reached past midnight, she finally heard his footsteps.

Late...again.

The door opened softly, cautiously, as if he already knew he'd failed her without knowing why.

Rhys stepped inside.

He looked...wrecked. Shoulders tense, hair mussed from running his hands through it, eyes shadowed with exhaustion so deep she could barely read the violet beneath.

But he smiled when he saw her.

A small, soft smile that once would have melted her whole world. Now, it made her stomach twist.

"Hello, darling," he said quietly. His voice was frayed, but gentle. He crossed the room slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," she replied flatly. The smile slipped the tiniest bit--but he kept coming. He leaned down, reaching to press a kiss to her temple.

She turned her head away. His lips met air and he froze.

A beat of silence filled the space between them--heavy, startling.

"...Y/N?" His voice was careful now. That High Lord calm he used when he sensed something dangerous. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, her tone ice-smooth. "Long day."

He crouched in front of her, searching her face with those keen, perceptive eyes--the ones she used to adore. The ones she now resented for not seeing the obvious.

"You've been quiet since yesterday," he said softly. "Talk to me."

She let out a sharp, humourless huff of laughter.

"Oh, talk to you?" Her voice was sweet, poisoned by honey.

"Why? So you can tell me more lies? Or should I just go ask Cassian and Azriel what else you've been keeping from me?"

Rhys blinked. Confusion flickered. Concern deepened. "What?" he whispered.

She smiled. A cold, wicked little curl of her lips--because the pain had finally curdled into something sharp enough to wield.

"You heard me," she said, each word clipped, dark. "Or should I ask her directly?"

His brows knit, breath catching. "Ask--who?"

And that was it. Her composure, her restraint, her silence--shattering cleanly down the middle.

She stood so suddenly he rocked back on his heels, and when she spoke, her voice was no longer cold.

It was ice cracking.

"You really want to know?" she seethed, eyes blazing.

She took one step toward him-

And delivered her first devastating blow:

"Fine. Let's start with who the hell you've been spending all your time with instead of me."

For a heartbeat, Rhys didn't move. Her accusation hung in the air like smoke, thick and choking.

He stared at her, stunned--because it was so absurd, so impossible, that for the first time in days, something flickered in him that wasn't exhaustion.

Now it was his turn to let out a low, humorless laugh.

"There is no such thi- "

But her face--gods, the way she flinched at that laugh--it punched straight through his chest.

Before he could soften his voice, before he could step closer-

She exploded.

"Oh, don't you dare lie to me now!" Y/N shouted, voice cracking under fury. "Don't you DARE stand there and lie to me like I'm some clueless idiot!"

"Y/N- "

"I overheard you!" she screamed over him, not giving him a single breath to speak. "Last night--outside your office--Cass and Az were practically spelling it out for you!"

Rhys's blood ran cold.

"You what- ?"

"You spent more time with her this week than with me," she spat, venom and heartbreak woven together. "It looks BAD Rhys--that's what Azriel said. Bad."

The floor felt like it tilted under him.

"Wait. Wait. Just--let me explain- "

"Oh, NOW you want to explain?" she barked a laugh, sharp and pained and cruel. so different from his beloved Y/N. "Now that I already know? Now that it all makes sense?"

Rhys closed his eyes for one second--one--trying to breathe, to center himself, to keep control.

She was his wife. His mate. His High Lady. He did NOT yell at her. Ever.

"Y/N," he tried again, "You're not hearing- "

"Oh I'm hearing perfectly," she hissed. "I understand EVERYTHING now. The late nights. The scent on your clothes. The constant excuses. The distance. The way you barely look at me anymore- "

"That's not- "

"Save it!" she cut him off, stepping closer, eyes blazing. "Save your little High Lord excuses, Rhysand. I am DONE being made a fool."

His jaw clenched. His pulse pounded.

He felt it--that dangerous line inside him, the one he guarded with iron control--begin to tremble. She didn't let him speak. She didn't let him breathe.

And Cauldron, he was trying. He was trying so hard not to break but she just kept going.

"Y/N, just STOP for one- "

"You don't touch me, you don't talk to me, and now I KNOW WHY!" she screamed, her voice raw. "I cannot believe I trusted you. I cannot believe-"

Something inside him snapped.

The weeks of sleepless nights, the threats against Velaris, the political sabotage, the collapsing treaty, every burden he'd carried alone so she wouldn't have to-

It all collided with her words and detonated.

"SHUT. UP."

His roar shook the air. She froze.

Silence suffocated the room as her eyes widened--not in anger now, but in shock. Wounded shock.

"I have been having the WORST weeks of my life," he snarled, voice frayed with restraint he was no longer managing. "Trying to keep this court safe, trying to stop an impending, possible war, trying to do EVERYTHING--and instead of asking me what's wrong, you accuse me of cheating on you?"

Her throat bobbed. But she said nothing.

"So forgive me," Rhys spat, "if I don't have the patience tonight for your assumptions."

He saw the hurt bloom across her face--saw it, recognized it--and still the words kept coming.

He couldn't stop himself.

"You think I'm distant?" he demanded. "You think I'm choosing someone over you? Maybe if you acted like a proper High Lady you'd understand what I've been dealing with instead of throwing tantrums- "

Her lips parted in disbelief. Horror.

But he wasn't finished. It spilled out of him--ugly, raw, unfiltered.

"Maybe it was a mistake," he said, cold and furious, "to think you were ready for any of this."

She flinched. A full-body flinch.

Rhys felt it like a blade twisting in his gut. And gods help him--he still didn't take it back.

They stared at each other, breathing hard, the air electric and broken. Then she blinked--slow, shaky--fighting tears with every ounce of strength she had left.

She stepped around him without a word.

"Y/N- " Rhys said, reaching out.

She pulled away from his voice like it burned.

"I'll send someone for my things," she said flatly, not looking at him. "Don't come after me. Don't speak to me. Don't even THINK about me."

His heart stuttered. "Y/N- "

"We're done," she whispered, pulling on her coat with trembling hands. "And we will be discussing how to sever the bond--since I'm such a terrible mate and High Lady."

She walked to the door, opened it and didn't look back.

The slam of the door echoed through the halls long after she disappeared. Rhys stood alone in the silence.

He didn't chase her. Couldn't.

All he felt was a crushing storm of anger. Shame. Exhaustion.

And the gaping hole in the bond where her presence had just vanished.

"Say that part again, girl. Because I must've misheard you the first six times."

Amren's voice cut through the room like a blade dipped in frost.

Y/N sat curled on the edge of the guest bed, eyes red, cheeks wet, hands shaking so badly she had to grip the blanket just to stay upright.

"He...he said..." Y/N choked, voice breaking all over again. "He said I wasn't acting like a proper High Lady. That making me one was a mistake. He- " Her breath hitched sharply. "He said- well, implied that it would've been better if he didn't have me as a mate."

Amren blinked once. Slowly.

As if the words themselves insulted her ancient existence. "Rhysand actually said that to you? Out loud? With his mouth?"

Y/N nodded, another sob ripping free as if the confirmation stabbed deeper. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he did."

Amren's expression didn't soften--but something inside her eyes shifted. A dark, simmering storm of fury that promised bloodshed if she chose it.

"That idiot." Her voice was quiet, lethal. "That absolute, insufferable, self-sacrificing idiot."

Y/N let out a broken sound that might've been a laugh, might've been another sob. Amren sat beside her--not touching, but close enough that Y/N felt anchored by the sheer solidity of her presence.

"Well?" Amren said. "Keep going. Empty it out."

So she did.

She told her everything--raw and unfiltered. Every accusation she had thrown, every word Rhys had snapped at her, how this whole thing even started and...the final moment--the bond she'd felt splinter under his voice. How she'd walked out while he just stood there, silent and furious.

By the time Y/N finished, she was shaking so violently that she had to press both palms against her knees just to steady herself.

"And- and the way he looked at me," Y/N whispered, chest heaving, "I don't even know if he still loves me. I don't- I can't- "

Her voice caught, broke, collapsed. Amren finally placed a hand on her back.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It wasn't motherly.

It was Amren. Grounding. Precise. Certain.

"He loves you, you fool."

Y/N sobbed harder. After a long moment, voice trembling, she whispered:

"...Do you know who she is?"

Amren frowned. "Who?"

"Who Rhysand has been cheating on me with," Y/N said desperately, wiping her cheeks with trembling fingers. "Cassian and Azriel clearly know. They didn't tell me. They didn't tell ME. So if YOU know--if you've heard ANYTHING--please, just tell me. Please."

Amren stared at her for a full three seconds. Then:

"Girl."

It wasn't an endearment. It was disbelief.

"If Rhysand were actually sticking his dick somewhere it didn't belong, I would've told you before he finished buckling his pants. I fear no male, and certainly not that brooding bat."

Y/N blinked at her through tears. Amren continued, curt and blunt as always: “But I've heard nothing. Seen nothing. And believe me--if something was happening behind your back, I would smell it before anyone else."

Y/N's face crumpled.

"So...you don't know?"

"No," Amren confirmed. "Because there is no one."

"But Cass- Az- "

"They know something," Amren cut in sharply. "But it isn't what you think."

Y/N swallowed, shaking her head. "No. You're wrong. I heard it all properly clear. Why are they hiding something?"

Amren looked away, jaw tight.

"Because they are hiding something. And I'm gonna get to the bottom of this."

That didn't soothe Y/N. Not even close.

Her breaths grew shallow. Erratic. Her lip trembled as if the weight of everything finally became too much.

"Amren," she whispered, voice tiny, broken. "Why would he say all those things to me? Why would he--why would he hurt me like that?"

Amren closed her eyes.

"Because he is tired," she said quietly. "And stupid. And reckless with the things he holds dear when he is drowning."

Y/N let out a soft, strangled cry. "I don't want to lose him but if what I heard is true, I do need to break our bond."

Amren's voice gentled by a fraction. "Then don't make any decisions tonight."

Y/N nodded faintly. And then her body gave out.

She slumped sideways, exhaustion finally dragging her under. Her breaths evened. Her fingers loosened their death grip on the blanket.

Amren watched her sleep.

For a long, silent minute, she simply stood there--arms crossed, ancient mind calculating, fury simmering with every inch of her.

Then she sighed.

"I suppose I'll have to deal with the three batshits myself."

She pulled the blanket higher on Y/N, tucking her in with surprisingly careful hands.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "You would think the High Lord of the Night Court knew how to use his words."

She stepped away, her eyes flashing silver.

Then: "Time to drag Cassian and Azriel into this mess--before those idiots let the whole mating bond go to hell."

With that, she put on her boots and closed the door.

Oh how Cassian had missed his bed. After three whole weeks away in the Illyrian camps, it felt amazing to be back at home, in his beloved bed. And now, he was in a beautiful, peaceful dream--one where he was shirtless (obviously), admired (as he deserved), and for some reason, winning a wrestling match against a very smug-looking Rhysand--when a voice like a razor dragged across stone slashed into the dream.

"Wake up, you overgrown, winged buffoon."

Cassian jerked so hard he nearly rolled off the bed. His eyes flew open to-

"Amren," he croaked, blinking at the petite creature standing on his mattress like some vengeful housecat. "Are you--are you standing on me?"

"Unfortunately," she said, stepping over his leg with a look of disgust. "Get up."

Cassian pushed himself onto his elbows. "It's- " he squinted toward the window "-The middle of the Cauldron-damned night. Why are you here? Did you run out of victims?"

Before Amren could reply, a groan came from near the door. Azriel came in slowly, shadows sluggish and sleepy around him, hair a disaster.

"What's happening?" Az rasped, rubbing a hand over his face.

Amren didn't even look at him as she pointed toward the door. "Both of you. Out. Now. And put on pants, Cassian. No one wants to see all...that"--she gestured vaguely at his bare torso--"at this hour."

Cassian sputtered. "Everyone wants to see this. This is public art."

Azriel yawned so wide his eyes watered. "Just...do what she says," he muttered.

Cassian stared at him, betrayed. "You're siding with her?"

Az just shrugged in that exhausted, "I've already accepted my fate," way and trudged toward the door.

Cassian scrambled for his pants, hopped into them halfway successfully, and followed.

When he stepped into the living room, Amren was perched on an armchair like some ancient gargoyle preparing to deliver judgment. Azriel leaned against the table, arms crossed, shadows awake now and twitching with mild concern.

Cassian dropped onto the couch, rubbing his eyes. "Okay." He pointed at Amren. "Start talking. Did Rhys blow up something? Are we being invaded? Because if I got out of bed for anything less than an apocalypse, I swear- "

Amren exhaled slowly, heavily--which immediately shut him up.

"This," she said, "is worse."

Azriel's posture sharpened.

Cassian sat up straighter. "What's worse than the apocalypse?"

Amren fixed them both with a deadly look.

"I'm about to tell you. And you both better answer all of my questions."

Amren had explained everything. Every shouted word, every accusation, every razor-edged insult Rhysand had spit in a moment of idiocy. By the time she finished, Cassian's jaw was on the floor and Azriel looked like someone had knocked all the air from his lungs.

Cassian was the first to speak. "So...why did they even fight?"

Azriel dragged a hand down his face, shadows coiling with agitation. "I knew this would happen," he muttered, voice low. "I knew this was going to blow up like this."

Amren snorted. "Oh, that isn't even the worst part."

Both males stiffened.

"The worst part," she continued, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve, "is that they- or more like Y/N, is going to break the bond."

Cassian's wings flared. "What?"

Azriel's head snapped up. "Break the- Amren, no. Rhysand would never do that. He loves Y/N down to the marrow of his bones. He would never- "

"Don't be an idiot," Amren cut in sharply. "He did. Or at least, he said enough to make her believe it. And she's at my house right now, sleeping after sobbing into one of my pillows because she is convinced that her mate regrets her existence."

Cassian's voice cracked. "What did he say?"

"Oh, something about her being an incompetent High Lady and their mating being a cursed mistake," Amren said with a dismissive flick. "You know. Very romantic."

Both males stared at her as if struck.

Azriel whispered, horrified, "Rhysand wouldn't- "

"He did." Amren snapped. "Now stop saying what he wouldn't do. He already did it."

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay--okay, but--how did it even start? You told us everything that happened during the fight. But what started all this? How did it begin?"

Amren slowly lifted an eyebrow. A dangerous eyebrow.

"Oh? You don't know?"

Cassian blinked. "No?"

Azriel turned to him sharply. "Cassian- " he shot him a look--a stop talking look-- shadows twitching nervously.

Amren jabbed a finger toward Azriel. "No. Don't do that. Don't you dare. Both of you started this mess to begin with."

Cassian threw up his hands. "How the hell did we start a fight between Rhys and his mate?"

Amren's smile was razor-thin. "What have you been keeping secret for Rhysand?"

The room went dangerously quiet.

Amren continued, voice silken and lethal: "Y/N overheard your little conversation with him. The one where you told Rhys how he's been spending more time with her than with his mate. Y/N heard it all--every word you two geniuses whispered behind her back."

Azriel went still as stone.

Amren leaned back. "She told me everything. The mysterious female scent on his clothes. The late nights. The excuses. The distance. And then--your conversation confirming it all. She thinks he's cheating. And she's not just hurt by Rhysand." Her eyes flashed. "She's hurt by you two keeping whatever this secret female situation is hidden from her.”

Cassian swallowed. Hard.

Amren crossed her legs. "Now," Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Spill it."

"No," Cassian and Azriel said at the exact same time.

Amren's eyebrow climbed so high it nearly left her forehead.

The two males exchanged a look of pure panic.

Azriel clenched his throat, shadows curling tight. "We...can't. But tell Y/N that it's not what she thinks it is. What she heard- " He shook his head. "It wasn't that."

Cassian bobbed his head vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, not like that at all. And Rhys would never cheat. He knows damn well that if he ever did, we'd be the ones he'd have to face first."

"And we'd skin him," Azriel muttered.

Amren's voice was frost. "Then why the fuck aren't you saying anything? Spill. It."

Cassian immediately descended into garbled nonsense. "Amren, look, we really can't, we made Rhys a promise--like a blood-oath-but-without-the-blood-kind of thing--and we can't break it and- "

Azriel cut him off sharply. "We simply can't. But it's not what she thinks. None of this is."

Amren rose from her chair in one slow, lethal movement. She planted her hands on her hips, staring at the two of them like they were particularly disappointing children.

"Who is this female?" she demanded. "Why is she so damn important that you're shielding her from your High Lady?"

Cassian choked. "It's not like that! It's not- it's not even someone in that way- "

"We gave Rhys a promise," Azriel said, voice flat with finality. "And we cannot break it. Under any circumstances."

Then he turned and glared at Cassian.

"I told him this would happen. I told him that if Y/N heard about this from anyone except him, she would interpret it the wrong way. And look at that--she did. But does anyone in this Court ever listen to me?" His wings flared. "No. And yet I am always right."

Cassian threw up his hands. "Oh, come on--Az don't start with that- "

"Don't start?" Shadows crackled around him. "I said this would happen. I explained it in detail. And what did he do- "

"Oh, please," Cassian groaned. "Like you didn't help keep the secret- "

Amren snapped. "ENOUGH."

Silence slammed into the room.

She looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience from a god who had long abandoned her. Then she exhaled, sharp and deliberate.

"Well," she muttered. "I suppose we're going to have to do this the hard way."

And with that, she swept past them, heading for the door.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged one more helpless look before scrambling after her--both still in their pyjamas, hair mussed, wings ruffled, dignity entirely forgotten.

"Amren?" Cassian called, half-panicked as they followed her out.

"Where are we going?" Azriel demanded.

Amren didn't slow. "Fixing this mess," she said. "Before the two of you make it worse."

The townhouse door creaked open beneath her hand. Silence greeted them--thick, heavy, wrong.

Cassian and Azriel stepped in behind her, wings folding as their eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

Then Cassian let out a low, horrified whistle. The place was wrecked. Chairs overturned. A table split clean in half. Books scattered in a glittering pool on the floor. The living room looked like a brute had torn through it, except this brute was the High Lord himself.

Azriel's shadows recoiled from the debris, twitching nervously. "He lost control."

Cassian nudged a broken picture frame with his boot. "This is bad. Really bad."

Amren didn't even glance at the destruction. "Search the lower rooms," she ordered, already heading for the stairs. "I'll take upstairs."

She didn't need to explain who they were looking for. Rhysand might as well have been bleeding on the floor for how god-awful everything felt.

Amren ascended the staircase slowly, letting the charged air guide her scent trail. At the top, she turned left toward the bedroom. The door was half-open. She pushed it with a fingertip. And...there he was.

Rhysand lay on Y/N's side of the bed. Fully clothed. Flat on his back. His eyes were open but unfocused, staring through the balcony doors into the night sky like he expected answers to fall out of it.

Amren approached the bed, walked around it, and snapped her fingers in front of of his face. "Hey."

Nothing.

She leaned down until her eyes were level with his. "Hey."

Rhysand's gaze slid toward her, dull and empty. Then back to the balcony.

"She's going to break the bond," he whispered. "I didn't mean any of it. I swear."

Amren rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. "Don't get all sappy on me. I hate it when you people do feelings."

When he didn't move, she grabbed his arm with both hands and hauled him upright--because if she waited for him to stand on his own, they'd be here until the end of days.

Rhys swayed, staring straight through her.

"Leave me alone, Amren," he murmured. "I've made the greatest mistake of my life tonight. I don't think I'll recover from it."

"Yeah, you did." Amren said tartly. "And then you also didn't follow after her or give her any explanation without insulting her. Who the hell calls their wife, their mate, an incompetent High Lady or a cursed existence."

He flinched. "So she told you."

"She's staying with me, you dipshit," Amren snapped. "Of course she told me."

Rhys's jaw clenched. "She said she'll send someone to gather her things. She...she really wants this to be over."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something close to terror.

Before Amren could respond, footsteps thundered up the stairs.

Cassian burst into the room first, looking like he expected Rhysand to be half-dead. "We're in deep shit right now," he groaned. "Rhys, this isn't the time to wallow. Go and get your woman back."

Azriel followed silently, wings tucked tight. He didn't hesitate--he walked right up and crouched in front of Rhys, glaring at him like a judge sentencing a criminal.

"This is all your fault," Azriel said, voice low and lethal. "You made us keep that secret. Now all three of us look like traitors to Y/N."

Rhys stared blankly at him. "This is what you're worried about? Your precious reputation?"

Azriel's shadows flared. "No. I'm worried about Y/N. I'm worried about the fact that you didn't explain the situation to her. I'm worried because I told you--multiple times--that this would happen. That she needed to hear it from you. That she would misunderstand everything if she found out some other way."

He jabbed a finger toward the ruined room. "And look. Look at your house. It's falling apart because you didn't fucking listen."

Cassian gave Rhysand a pitying look. "He's not wrong, brother- "

Amren grabbed Azriel by the back of his shirt and yanked him upright with one hand. "Enough."

Both males shut up instantly.

She crouched down slightly, leveling her gaze at Rhysand. "Are you sorry?"

Rhys blinked. "What?"

"Are you sorry for what you did?" she repeated, much slower.

He swallowed. "Amren..."

"Answer."

Rhysand closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice cracked. "Yes. YES. I am so fucking sorry you have no idea. I love her more than anything or anyone in my entire existence. And I hurt her. I hurt the only person I never wanted to see cry. And I'd give up my throne, my crown--my wings, my power--if it meant taking back the words I said."

Amren hummed thoughtfully. "Good."

"Good?" Cassian echoed.

She stood. "If you're that sorry, Rhysand..." A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. "...then I think you should make it up to her."

Rhys's eyes snapped to hers, panic flaring. "How? She doesn't want to see me. She won't even look at me."

Amren's smirk widened into something downright devious. "Oh, don't worry," she purred. "I have an idea."

Y/N woke with a headache carved right between her eyebrows, the kind that came from crying until her ribs ached.

For a moment she didn’t remember where she was.

The sheets smelled like metal and jasmine.

Not Rhysand.

Not home.

Amren.

Right.

She pushed up on her elbows, swallowing hard. Light filtered in through the curtains--late morning, or maybe early afternoon. Time had blurred into something useless.

Her throat felt raw. Her chest felt hollow.

She’d cried herself into exhaustion.

Amren’s guest room was tidy, cold, and painfully quiet. Her dress from last night--torn in one seam, wrinkled from her shaking hands--was folded neatly over a chair. Amren had put a cup of steaming tea on the nightstand.

A note sat beside it, written in Amren’s sharp, elegant handwriting:

“Drink this. And then go breathe in the garden before your mind eats you alive.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. Gods, even Amren was worried.

She forced herself to stand. Everything inside her felt strange--brittle, almost. As if she’d stepped wrong and cracked the bones of her own heart.

She drank the tea slowly, letting the warmth fight the cold coiled in her stomach.

But her thoughts… they wouldn’t quiet.

Last night replayed itself again and again:

Rhysand’s distant voice.

His cold eyes.

The way he’d looked at her like she was a burden.

The way he’d told her she was incompetent, not ready, a mistake-

And gods, the scent...the female’s scent that clung to his clothes.

Her chest tightened so sharply she had to press a hand to it.

She inhaled once. Twice.

It didn’t help.

Neither did the fact that Cassian and Azriel had known. Known something. Kept it from her.

Let her walk around clueless while whatever this… female situation was unfolded behind her back.

A humorless laugh slipped out of her.

Mor had once joked that the Illyrians would rather fight the King of Hybern naked than break a promise.

Apparently that applied even when the promise harmed her. A knock came on the door.

Short. Sharp.

“Get up,” Amren’s voice drawled. “You look like a corpse and smell worse. The garden’s the only thing that’ll keep your mind from imploding for the next five minutes.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. “Thank you,” she whispered, though she didn’t know if Amren heard.

She pulled on a soft sweater Amren had left out and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet--unnervingly so--and Amren was nowhere to be seen. Probably giving her space.

Or lurking nearby in case Y/N tried to run away again.

Y/N padded barefoot down the stairs, then toward the back door.

The handle was cool under her palm.

For a moment she just… hesitated.

She didn’t know why.

Something in her chest fluttered--warning or instinct, she couldn’t tell.

She stepped outside.

The garden was bright with midday sun, warm despite the tightness in her chest. Silver leaves rustled in a lazy breeze. A few purple blossoms were open, dotting the path.

Y/N inhaled shakily and stepped forward.

And froze.

Someone was standing in the center of the garden.

Tall. Broad-shouldered.

Wings tucked tight, as if he feared they might tremble.

Black hair, messy like he hadn’t slept--or had ripped his hands through it too many times.

His back was to her.

But she knew that stance.

That silhouette.

That presence that always filled a room like a tide.

Rhysand.

Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs, once, twice. He turned.

And when his eyes met hers--violet, rimmed with exhaustion, lined with regret--her breath disappeared entirely.

Y/N’s hand hovered over the door handle, fingers trembling, heart still hammering in her chest. Her chest ached from anger, from frustration, from the raw betrayal she thought she’d felt. She just wanted to walk away, leave it all behind.

“Y/N, please.”

The voice cracked through the air, desperate and ragged. Her hand froze. She turned slightly, eyebrows furrowed, unsure why she even listened. “Please, let’s just talk. Let me explain myself to you, just once,” he added, each word weighted with raw urgency. “Whatever decision you make after that, I’ll respect it. I’ll move out of your way. But please… just listen to me. Just once.”

She exhaled slowly, almost against her will. Something inside her softened, if only a little. With a reluctant sigh, she turned to face him fully, arms crossed over her chest, not moving closer but not leaving either. That small gesture, that quiet hesitance, was enough.

Rhysand stepped forward slightly, careful to keep the distance that wouldn’t scare her, and exhaled with the kind of quiet tension that made her stomach twist. “I… didn’t explain myself properly last night,” he said, his voice low. “I was just… exhausted.”

“Don’t give me that same bullshit,” Y/N cut him off sharply. “We’re all exhausted. I am, or--no, I was--the High Lady. I know what it’s like to carry weight on my shoulders. And I never once took my anger out on you. I never did that to you, Rhysand.”

He sighed, long and heavy, the sound echoing around them. “I know. I know I fucked up. I meant none of it. Please.”

She didn’t move. She just let him go on.

“I… consulted a curse-breaker,” he began, voice careful, eyes never leaving hers. “I was worried about you, about your bond. I didn’t want you to feel… forced, overwhelmed, or unsafe. I made Cassian and Azriel promise not to tell you anything until I could explain it properly, because I wanted to understand it myself before alarming you. The curse-breaker was helping me gauge your connection, how the bond was responding… everything, from start to finish. That’s why I was coming home late. That’s why I seemed distant. And I know I have no excuse for the times I locked you out, or for the way I’ve been… distant. But none of it was ever meant to hurt you. I swear, Y/N, none of it.”

Her arms slowly unfolded, the tension in her shoulders easing imperceptibly. He took a cautious step closer. “I would die for you, Y/N. I would kill everyone in this world to make sure you are safe. Everything I’ve done… it’s only ever been for you. And that night… what I said… I was angry, exhausted, frustrated. I was trying to hurt back because I felt hurt myself. But none of it was true. None of it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t--couldn’t--want another mate. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered, a mix of shock and relief, and she whispered, almost disbelievingly, “You spoke with the curse-breaker because you were worried about me… and you didn’t want me to feel forced into this bond… or overwhelmed.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Exactly. I wanted you to make your own choices, in your own time. I didn’t want to corner you. I wanted you to feel safe and… loved. On your terms.”

Her gaze softened, and she shook her head slightly. “But you could’ve told me. We could’ve talked together. Hiding things from me… it only makes me misunderstand you. We talk. That’s what mates do. We share our burdens. I am your partner, Rhysand. For life.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and earnest, almost reverent. “I know. I swear to you, that’s what I’ll always do. No hiding, no lashing out, no locking you away when I’m stressed. I promise.”

Y/N nodded slowly, the tight knot in her chest loosening further. “I wasn’t even going to break the bond,” she admitted quietly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Good. Then maybe I’ll just have to prove myself harder until you fully trust me again.”

She allowed herself a tiny, weary smile in return.

He took another small step, until they were mere inches apart, foreheads gently touching. “By the way,” he said with a soft smirk, “that female I was meeting? Very old. Very wrinkly.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He grinned. “Grandmother-level old.”

“Rhysand!” she laughed, hitting his chest lightly, but she leaned into him anyway, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He hugged her back firmly, just once. “I know this isn’t fully resolved,” he murmured into her hair.

“No,” she said, pulling back slightly, but still holding him. “Next time… you tell me immediately.”

“I promise,” he said, voice steady, “never hiding anything from you again. Never lashing out. Never locking you out when I’m stressed.”

Just then, from behind the open garden door, Cassian and Azriel emerged with Amren in tow.

Cassian’s voice called out, teasing: “So… are we also forgiven now, or are we on permanent probation?”

Y/N turned, smirk tugging at her lips, “Depends on whether you two can behave like responsible adults for five minutes straight.”

Cassian shrugged dramatically, hands up. “Hey, I consider standing still for ten seconds straight a win. That’s about as adult as I get.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, muttering, “Focus, Cassian. It’s not about you this time.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, and Rhysand tightened his hold on her, letting the moment of relief wash over them both.

The tension hadn’t vanished completely, but for the first time since last night, they could breathe.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[pellucid-constellations]

Equals

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You were his equal, his cauldron-blessed mate made to stand beside him in everything. Or, you thought you were. After a few choice words from your mate, your High Lord, you were not so sure anymore. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst!!, miscommunication, issues with self-worth

a/n: Guys I literally cannot write so we are experimenting with Rhys! This will be a two-shot hehehe <3 love u thanks for reading!!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

To be completely and utterly truthful to yourself, you felt like you were drowning. 

Being a High Lord’s mate often came with periods of stress, but the benefits typically outweighed the lows. When you would come home from a grueling day, Rhysand would be equally as tired, and the two of you would fall into bed together and sleep until the next day called. When you found yourself unable to take the pressure, he would be able to tell; the knock at your mind’s barrier would be unnecessary when compared to the connection of the bond. When Rhysand was the one slipping, you would be there, ready to hold him up and stand by his side. 

But now, in light of everything, you were drowning with no end in sight. 

You hadn’t taken the title on purpose; the honor of being High Lady seemed incongruent with who you really were. You’d fallen in love with Rhys as a healer’s apprentice and grew in ranks as your affection blossomed. It was a shock when the mating bond snapped, the connection forged in almost a decade of loving him. That love had been fragile, unsuspecting. The love of a mating bond was intense, filled with responsibilities. 

You weren’t simply a healer any longer. You were a healer and a politician—a diplomat and a bringer of life. The pressure often weighed on you, but it was always manageable. Always worth it when you looked to your family and the love you were granted. 

But now, Rhysand was looking at you with closed disappointment, and you weren’t quite sure how to handle that. 

“I didn’t even know he would be there,” you repeated, fiddling with your fingers at your waist. “I would have prepared more. I would have—” 

Rhys raised his hand, a sturdy desk separating you. His gaze tracked to the floor, and you began chewing at your lip, body wound tightly. Your mate blinked at the carpet. 

“I thought we discussed this,” he replied evenly, breath coming out in a sigh. “If there were ever a time anyone from Spring was at a meeting or negotiation, you would leave. We don’t have any kind of relationship with that court. Not since—” 

“I know,” you stressed, feet becoming antsy. 

Rhys had never been disappointed in you before—not really. He was always tender and forgiving, understanding your role and the stress of the duality. Granted, you had never made an error quite like this one before, and Rhys was under a considerable amount of stress. You hadn’t seen him for longer than a few hours in weeks, the darkness rimming his eyes evidence of that. As you stood there, you came to the humbling realization that you did not feel like a team. You felt alone. 

Rhysand’s jaw worked. He flicked his gaze back up to you. “Then why—” he started, “—did you make a deal with the emissary? It goes against everything we’ve discussed.” 

Your shoulders slumped. “It’s more complicated than that. Dawn has been blocking resources we need because of their treaty with Spring, and they refused to budge without some semblance of peace. They said they wouldn’t be allied with either side of a war.” 

“So the solution was for Night to ally with Spring?” 

“I know how it sounds, but if you read the treaty I had written up, you’d see that it’s only—” 

“There should be no treaty to begin with.” 

“Rhys, there was no other way. The people of Night would have lost vital resources. Herbs and medicines and—” 

“Are you not capable of making the medicines? Are you not the head healer of this court?” 

Momentarily stunned into silence, you could barely feel the flicker of anger light within you. You jarred back as if pushed, unfamiliar with the man before you. You huffed out a breath, and then another. Rhysand remained stiff behind his desk, tire pulling at his hard expression. 

With a confirming nod, you felt the sting of tears spring behind your eyes—whether from hurt or exhaustion, you couldn’t tell. “So I’m not doing that right either, then?” 

Your mate flung a lackadaisical hand in the air. “Well, if we are lacking supplies.” 

This time, your anger was more present. Your voice rose. “I am doing everything I can for this court. You weren’t there. You aren’t in the clinics. I am running myself ragged to ensure the betterment of our people.” 

“My people,” Rhysand bit out. “These are my people. You made your stance clear when you didn’t want to be High Lady. When you didn’t want the responsibilities that went with the title.” 

Your shock was like an ugly brand, heating your core until it simmered into a dull ache. You took in an effortful breath, some of your fight still remaining. “I didn’t want the title because it doesn’t mean anything to me. I am a healer first, not a-a ruler. But these are still my people. I still stand by your side.” 

If Rhysand saw the hurt marring your face, he didn’t show it. He ran his palm along his jaw and stared up at the ceiling. A tick of silence passed. And then another. His features softened slightly, and when he looked at you again, his gentle eyes lulled you into a false sense of comfort. 

“In truth, perhaps it’s better you didn’t take it,” he said, so quietly you almost hadn’t heard it. “It’s not you.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“You couldn’t handle it. Not as I do. Not equally.” 

The insinuation was devastating. You remembered each of Rhysand’s careful words when you were mated—how you were his equal, his cauldron-blessed mate made to stand beside him in everything. He had spent countless nights murmuring the words against your skin and whispering them into your hair as he thought you slept.  

And now he was going against those words; now he was using them against you. He must’ve been. He must’ve known what being his equal meant to you. It was why you worked so hard, why you went against every instinct and placed yourself in the role of a diplomat. He must’ve known, right? There was no better way to hurt you, and he was frustrated, angry, primed to want to lash out. 

As you stood before him, once again silent, you considered that he had never meant those words. That he had repeated them, over and over, only because he needed to make himself believe. A mantra, of sorts, to help him grow accustomed to his weak-minded mate. 

Your stomach turned, an unfamiliar dread rising in your gut. But maybe you always knew this was coming, because the dread wasn’t so unfamiliar. It had been smaller before, mitigated by Rhysand’s loving gaze, his touch, his assurance that he loved you and valued you and you were his equal. 

Now, the feeling was ugly and raw. It was all-consuming, and there was nothing to quell it. This was the truth your mate believed. 

You snapped a wall up to stifle the bond, unwilling to let Rhysand know how much this had hurt you. He reared back at the feeling, pressing his palm into his chest. 

“What—” 

“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you,” you stated evenly, swallowing hard. “I cannot undo the treaty I’ve had signed, but I will have it sent to the study so you can review it in its entirety.” 

“Disappointed?” Rhysand repeated, beginning to round the desk with his hand outstretched. 

You stepped out of his path. “If you find the terms of the agreement unsatisfactory, might I suggest sending Mor. She may be more equipped for the task of renegotiating.” 

You felt him reaching on his side of the bond, your mate obviously unused to the silent echo. You were always so quick to offer him reassurances, proofs that you were alive and well. He often did the same, and it used to warm you. Now, you were sure the feeling would only add to the sickness you were experiencing. 

Not equals. 

Obviously, you were not equals, and you had been a fool to think otherwise. 

Rhysand said your name, the sound rough and strained. When you didn’t offer him what he desired, he tried again. “I wouldn’t send Mor. I would send you.” He tugged at his roots. “I—I’m at a loss, darling. I don’t understand.” 

“Well, I understand plenty. You’ve made your opinions quite clear.” 

“Why did you close the bond?” he asked, desperate. As if he hadn’t just insulted that very connection. 

“It’s not needed at the moment,” you offered. You were trying to sound detached, emotionless, but the hurt was crawling up your throat, making your words sound wet without tears. They would fall soon, and you needed to leave before that happened. 

“Not needed—I’m sorry I was so hard on you. I was—Spring is a sensitive subject, but that is no reason for my ire. I’m sorry, darling. I can’t even—” 

Rhysand stopped himself, a seemingly painful breath escaping his chest. You felt bad for a moment, a strong desire to throw yourself into his slightly outstretched arms and explain the hurt almost taking over, but you leaned into resignation instead. He would only lie again—tell you the words you wanted to hear that he so obviously did not believe. 

“It’s alright,” you brushed off, swiping away a traitorous tear that punched another breath from Rhysand’s lungs. “I made a mistake. You are right to be angry.” 

“No. No, you are right. I wasn’t there. You have supported me and this court through—” 

“Just stop, Rhysand.” 

Your resignation echoed, weaving through the next excuse he was going to make for you. Had it always been this way, your mate excusing your shortcomings? Or had he cleaned them up quietly, desperate for no one to see? 

“Let me feel you again,” Rhysand eventually whispered, searching the planes of your face with hurried eyes. “Or let me in. I don’t understand what’s going on. I-I am truly sorry, my love. Let me fix this.” 

You couldn’t meet his gaze, instead fixating on his hands that flexed and clenched into fists. You watched them twitch and pull away from his sides, but he didn’t reach for you again. He remained rooted in his spot, and you remained stagnant in yours. 

“I think I just need to be alone.” To process this change, this truth. It felt dramatic after such a short argument—you’d had much louder ones with him before—but none had ever hurt this much. 

Rhysand leaned his head down in your peripheral, seeking your eyes that you would not give him. “For how long?” he croaked. 

You swiped at another tear. Rhysand’s knuckles whitened by his sides. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to go to the cabin?” 

The cabin was his. Everything was his. His friends were yours. His court was your career. His people were not your people. 

But healing was yours. You were a healer before him.

You shook your head, the threat of more tears imminent. 

Rhysand took a hesitant step forward. “Will you tell me where you go?” 

A beat of silence. 

“Please.” 

You sniffed, unable to open your mouth without a sob tumbling out. And then you winnowed out of the townhouse, only able to do such a thing because Rhys had deemed you family. Because he had deemed you worthy of the privilege.

You weren’t entirely sure that was the truth anymore. 

[xoxochb]

( azriel loves to spoil his pregnant mate )

an overly-excited gasp leaves your mouth the moment your hands touch dozens of fine chocolates.

chocolates of every kind; white, dark, milk, chocolate with nuts, chocolate with caramel, chocolate with coconut, and various others. it’s like your own personal market right here in your kitchen!

“how did you manage to get all of these?!” beaming, you lock eyes with your mate.

azriel’s eyes look up from the hand you have cradling your large baby bump to your own eyes to indicate that he’s listening. he shrugs nonchalantly. “I just did.”

“you and your tautologies.” you roll your eyes and pick up a nutty chocolate bar. yum.

“you could just say thank you.”

you bite into the treat, savoring the sweet taste on your tongue. it seems that the baby loves anything chocolate since that appears to be all that you crave recently.

“did you steal them?”

“I did not steal them.”

“did you… buy them?”

“sort of.”

“did you do something stupid?”

“no.” azriel walks up to you and cups your chocolate-stuffed cheeks. “I made a deal with the children selling them. that I would pay them each ten gold marks for everything they had.”

“so you did pay for them?”

“that’s why I said sort of, sweetheart.”

you nibble down on your bottom lip as you ponder his words. then you take a small, defeated bite from your bar of sugar. “well, thank you.” a beat passes. “the baby thanks you as well.”

you take azriel’s hands and guide them to your lower belly where faint kicks can be felt. no doubt, the unborn child was happy to receive what they’ve been demanding.

“of course.” azriel plants a kiss to your forehead, then bends down to swiftly place ons to your tummy. “anything for the both of you.”

you smile gently, preparing to take another bite of your chocolate when your mate beats you to the punch. and it’s a large bite, at that.

“how dare you!”

he laughs at your dismay, biting off the rest. though, in redemption, he pulls two more out from thin air.

“don’t worry, I’ve come prepared for your wrath.”

“you planned to anger me on purpose?” you snatch the chocolates and hold them protectively to your chest.

“no. they were for bribery incase you got upset that I wanted one.”

“I would have given you one if you asked.”

azriel shrugs. “I wasn’t sure considering I’m going up against two of you.”

you shake your head and bite back a smile. “you can have one. milk chocolate. I don’t like those that much.”

“well, thank you.” azriel cups your large stomach as he presses a kiss to your mouth. you feel him smile against your lips before parting ways.

but only by about a few centimeters because he really can’t stand to be anywhere farther.

[moonlitstoriess]

Blood and Wings- Cassian x fem!pregnant wife reader

Summary: While Cassian is gone, danger finds its way back home—leaving him racing back to what he almost lost

Warnings: violence, blood, angst, mentions of SA, maybe some typos (It's late and I'm about to go to sleep😭) happy ending

See masterlist

Cassian has been checking the buckles on his leathers for ten minutes. Which would be fine--if he hadn't already checked them twice.

He stands in the middle of the living room, wings half-furled in that restless was that always gives him away. He's dressed for Illyria--dark leathers, siphons gleaming, hair tied back--but he keeps glancing at Y/N like he's waiting for an excuse not to go.

"Cass," she says gently, one hand resting over he stomach, "you're going to miss your mission if you keep on stalling."

"I'm not stalling," he lies immediately, tugging at the same shoulder strap he's tightened three times.

Y/N raised a brow.

He sighs. "Okay maybe I'm stalling a little."

He crosses the room in those slow, heavy steps that always make the floorboards creak--the steps he takes when he's reluctant, when he's torn. His hands cradle her face before she can say another word, thumbs brushing her cheeks, gaze flicking down to her belly like he can see right through her.

"You'll call for me the second anything feels off," he murmurs. Not a questions. A plea disguised as an order. "Even the smallest thing."

"I will."

"And you'll stay inside."

"Yes, Cass."

"And keep the wards up."

"They're already up."

"And you won't- "

"Cassian." Y/N laughs before wrapping her arms around his waist before he can spiral into another list. "I'll be fine. You'll only be gone for a day. Maybe two."

His breath shakes--enough for her to feel it against her forehead as he presses his to hers.

"I hate leaving you right now," Cassian admits, voice low, rough. "Every instinct in me is screaming to stay."

"I know," she whispers, leaning into his warmth. "But Rhys made his orders clear. And I'll be right here when you get back. Besides, everyone is going to watch over me like I'm some type of a porcelain doll. I know you made sure of it."

He places a hand over hers--over the swell of their child--and closes his eyes. Something softens in him, and something tightens.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." he says, like he's promising more than safety. Promising safety. Promising return.

When he kisses her goodbye, it's slow, lingering, almost cautious--like he's memorizing the shape of her before he goes.

He pulls back just enough to look at her again. "Two days," he repeats. "Three at most."

"You'll be back before we even notice you're gone."

But the truth is--Y/N notices already, in the way the space beside her feels colder the moment he steps toward the door.

He hesitates one last time, hand braced against the frame, wings drawn tight. "I love you," he says quietly. "Both of you."

And then, with one last look--heavy, reluctant, full of that protective ache he'll never admit aloud--Cassian leaves.

Y/N watched the door close behind him, the echo of his boots fading down the hall. The room suddenly felt too large, too quiet--like the air itself was holding its breath. She placed a hand over her stomach, tracing the swell there, trying to anchor herself in the familiar warmth, in the life she carried.

The morning dragged on slower than it ever had before. Tasks that usually passed in a blur--tidying, preparing food, reading--felt heavy, their edges sharp in the silence. She noticed little things she'd never paid attention to before: the subtle creak of a floorboard, the wind brushing too harshly against a window, the way shadows pooled in corners that usually stayed bright.

A shiver ran through her, she told herself it was nothing. Cassian would have said the same if I'd fretted over every noise, she thought, trying to summon a smile. She spent the day keeping busy, her mind repeating the same thought over and over: He'll be back before I even notice he's gone.

By afternoon, the light had softened, golden and warm, filtering through the windows like it always did. Feyre and Elain had come and visited her soon after Cassian left. But now, as she sat alone once more in the sunlit room, there was a weight pressing at her chest--a tiny, almost imperceptible unease she tried to shake. She shook her head, counting the minutes until dinner, until anything that resembled normalcy returned.

Evening arrived quietly. She lit candles, their soft glow casting dancing shadows on the walls, and tried to setlle herself. She hummed a song softly, brushed her hair, and prepared for bed, telling herself the day had been ordinary, that the quiet had simply been peace.

And yet, as she moved through the dim hallway toward her chamber, the feeling prickled again. Something was off--just on the edges of her perception, like a shadow that didn't belong. Her heart ticked faster for a moment, then she shook her head firmly. It's nothing. I'm imagining things. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the warmth of the fire, the softness of her bed.

Night crept in fully, and with it came the quiet that pressed a little too close, that made every small sound seem larger. Y/N slipped beneath the covers, tugging them close, and tried to ignore the whisper of unease curling at the edges of her thoughts. She told herself to sleep. To rest. To trust in the world she knew.

But then-

A sound.

The first sound didn't seem dangerous. A faint creak somewhere downstairs. The kind the house sometimes made when the wind shifted.

Y/N shifted in bed, blinking into the dim orange glow of the dying fire. Then came a second sound. Not a creak. A thud. Heavy. Deliberate.

Her heart stuttered.

She pushed herself upright slowly, listening. the silence that followed was worse than the noise--it was too complete, too controlled, as if someone were holding their breath, waiting for movement above. That uneasy flutter from earlier slammed back full-force.

Too loud. Too heavy. That wasn't the house.

Y/N slid one leg off the bed, then the other. Her breathing shortened, her pulse quickening in her throat as she padded to the door. A faint vibration tremored through the floorboards--another thump, followed by a low scrape.

A voice--deep, rough, unfamiliar--muttered something she couldn't catch.

Her blood turned to ice. Someone is inside.

Her hand cupped her belly instinctively. She moved silently across the room toward the small dagger Cassian insisted she keep "just in case," tucked inside the bedside drawer. Her fingers trembled as they curled around the hilt.

Another voice joined the first. This one closer. "Upstairs."

Y/N's breath hitched. A chill carved its way down her spine. They were coming for her.

She backed away from the bedroom door just as footsteps started ascending the stairs--slow, heavy, confident. Not rushing. Not searching. Moving like they knew exactly where she'd be.

Wards. The wards were up. How-

A sharp crack echoed from below, as if a window frame had been forced open, splintered. She flinched at the sound. Y/N moved quickly--silently--toward the wardrobe, easing its doors open. She'd barely stepped inside when something on the stairs groaned under an enormous weight.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

She pulled the doors almost closed, leaving the smallest sliver to see through. The crack between the doors framed the hallway, swallowing it in shadow.

The footsteps reached the landing.

A figure emerged. Wingless. Massive. Illyrian leathers stripped on insignia, armor darkened and roughened from misuse. A broad scar ran across his jaw.

Y/N's breath stilled entirely.

A rogue. A brute. One of them.

"I smell her," the male rasped, sniffing like a damn animal. Her stomach clenched painfully around the child she carried. Another figure joined him--slighter but no less brutal, carrying a wicked, jagged blade still crusted with something dark.

"Cassian's mate," he sneered. "Alone. Fragile. This'll break him."

Her throat tightened. Her dagger shook slightly in her hand.

The first brute bared his teeth. "General thinks he can fix Illyria. Thinks he can change us. We'll show him what happens when a bastard forgets his place."

Y/N's breath caught on a silent gasp. Her pulse roared. Her palms slicked with sweat. And still-she didn't move. Couldn't.

Every instinct screamed at her to remain small, unseen.

But then-

The floorboard just outside her hiding spot creaked. Not from her. One of the men turned sharply toward the sound.

A third intruder stepped into view, climbing the last step of the staircase. Smaller, quicker, feral-eyed.

"I checked the downstairs," he hissed. "She ran. Must've heard us."

"She wouldn't get far," the leader growled. "She's heavy with his child."

A violent heat shot through Y/N's chest. Fear, anger, instinct--everything twisted together. Her baby kicked, sharp and sudden, almost as if reacting to the stress. The sudden movement caused the wood under her foot to whine.

Three heads snapped toward the wardrobe. Silence. Total, suffocating silence.

Then...the leader smiled.

"There she is."

He strode forward. Too fast.

Y/N shoved the doors open and darted out, dagger raised--not to win, but to survive. To create space. To run.

The brute lunged. She ducked under his arm, slashing desperately--her blade scraping across his forearm, drawing blood. He roared, spinning with frightening speed for his size.

A hand snatched her hair. Another grabbed her wrist, slamming it into the wall until the dagger clattered away. Pain lanced down her arm. Her vision blurred.

"Feisty little thing," the second brute laughed. "Should've expected that. General always did like his females wild."

"Don't- " Her voice cracked, strained. "Don't touch me- "

A fist crashed into her ribs. Agony burst across her side as she choked on a cry.

One of them grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her face up to his, breath rancid with old ale. "You won't die yet," he purred. "Not until we've used you to our complete pleasure. After all, we can't let a pretty little thing such as yourself go to waste one last time. Hm?"

She clawed at him, nails scraping skin, anything--anything--to break free. He hissed and slapped her hard across the cheek. The room spun. Her ears rang. Her stomach seized painfully.

Cassian.

His name was a silent scream in her mind.

She stumbled backward as they advanced again--but before they could reach for her, a windless, unnatural silence fell over the house.

Not quiet but...stopped.

The air tightened. The candles guttered. Shadows distorted across the hall. The leader froze, eyes going wide.

"What is- "

The entire house shuddered.

A violent pulse rippled through the room--raw power, cold and unforgiving. The intruders staggered.

Y/N fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, gasping through the pain. Footsteps--slow, lethal--approached from the stairs below. A voice sliced through the quiet:

"You broke into the wrong house."

Rhysand.

And before the intrudors could run, a blast of magic threw them down the hall, bodies crashing into the far wall with bone-cracking force.

Cassian should've known something was wrong the moment he felt it.

The fear. The anger. Sharp, stabbing, impossible to ignore. It came from Y/N's side of the bond, a trembling, lashing pulse of something raw, desperate. And yet...he had ignored it.

He should've known when she didn't answer him the first time he called her name, when he reached out and felt only silence in return. And when that silence stretched on, deeper than ever before, he should've stopped to consider it.

But Y/N had these moments--these small, infuriatingly human, infuriatingly endearing moments. She would go silent sometimes because she was too immersed in finishing a new tapestry she was working on, or because she was convinced she could sneak into the kitchen to bake bread without him noticing, and answering him would ruin the perfect stealth. She would also grow stubbornly angry at him over the silliest things--like when he sneakily ate the last piece of cake she had reserved for herself--and refuse to answer, fully absorbed in her indignation.

And because this routine had happened a dozen times before, Cassian hadn’t thought much of it. Routine. Nothing more.If only he had known how wrong he was.

He was with Azriel when the message came. They’d stopped for a quick bite before meeting with Captain Kaelir to discuss the new Illyrian training units--joking, laughing, teasing each other like the old times. Cassian’s laugh had carried lightly across the table, and even Azriel’s lips had twitched in something that resembled amusement.

Then came the words.

"Y/N has been seriously attacked. She's unconscious and in the townhouse under our watch. Get your asses over here. Now."

Time stopped. The world shifted, froze and left Cassian standing there, a slice of that familiar, joking male snatched away from him and replaced with something darker. Something cold. Something sharp. Rage. Fear. Guilt. All of it rolled together into a twisting knot in his chest.

Azriel’s hand settled on his shoulder, firm, grounding, steady. “I’ve got it,” the Silent Shadow murmured, his voice low, unwavering. “We’ll get to her. I’ve got it.”

Cassian didn’t move at first, couldn’t. His entire body was vibrating with the kind of fear he had never known he carried--the fear of losing her, of walking into that house and finding the worst possible outcome waiting. He swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t shift.

Azriel gripped his shoulder tighter, a silent anchor against the storm raging inside him. “Cass. I’ve got it. I’ve got you. Let’s go.”

The words barely registered. They didn’t need to. Azriel’s hands on him, the calm certainty of the Shadow, were enough to pull him out of the frozen haze.

He inhaled sharply, fists clenching at his sides, wings twitching with the tension he could no longer contain. The fire that had always burned bright and reckless inside him flared. His rage for those who had dared touch her mingled with guilt for not sensing it sooner--and fear for what might have already been done.

The world blurred as Azriel winnowed them, the familiar sensation ripping through space and air, disorienting but utterly precise.

In that heartbeat of movement, Cassian’s mind raced: Her. Alive. Please be alive. Please be okay.

Azriel’s steady presence kept him tethered, even as every muscle, every nerve, every beat of his heart screamed in panic. “I’ve got you,” Azriel whispered again, just for him, the words threading through the chaos like a lifeline. “We’ll get there. I’ve got it.”

Cassian nodded once, tight, rigid, utterly consumed by the thought of Y/N. The humor, the lightness, the joking man from a mere two seconds ago was gone--replaced by something primal, something sharp, something that would not forgive anyone for what had been done.

He didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. All he needed was to get back.

Back to her. Back to the life that had almost been shattered.

Cassian’s boots pounded the stairs, three steps at a time, wings tensing behind him with every movement. Azriel was beside him, silent as always, but the bond between them thrummed with the urgency of what had come over the bond.

When they reached the top, Cassian skidded to a stop in front of the doors, chest heaving, and froze.

Rhysand and Mor stood there, halfway in some heated argument, voices low but sharp, and both stopped immediately the moment they saw him. Azriel followed, silent and alert.

“I need to- ” Cassian started, reaching for the door.

“Listen first,” Rhysand cut him off, voice calm but firm.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit!” Cassian snapped, shoving against Rhys with one hand, the other still pressed to his stomach. His eyes were blazing, every inch of him vibrating with danger and panic.

“LISTEN FIRST!” Rhysand’s voice rose, loud enough to make the hallway echo, and before Cassian could react further, Rhys slammed a hand against the wall, pinning him there.

Cassian froze, every muscle coiled, every impulse screaming to break free.

“Mor, go inside,” Rhys said without even looking at Cassian, his tone clipped but not unkind.

Mor sighed, glancing at Cassian with a brief, almost apologetic glance, then stepped past them into the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Cassian’s jaw tightened. Azriel’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, grounding him, but he didn’t even notice.

“Before you lose your marbles,” Rhys said, voice sharp but measured, “she and the baby are both safe. Alive. But she’s been hit pretty badly in the ribs. Madja says she’ll need to rest in a medicated, immobilized brace for the next few days, minimal movement, and constant monitoring. The three shits are locked up and waiting for us to deal with once we make sure of Y/N’s condition.”

Azriel opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, but Rhys cut him off again, voice rising slightly, tinged with the sharp authority Cassian had always known:

“Now. Go into the room. More gentle. Not like a wild animal.”

Cassian let out a low, frustrated huff, jaw tightening, but he nodded once. His wings flexed as he stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides.

He entered the room.

The moment he did, everything else fell away.

His eyes immediately found her--Y/N--lying unconscious, pale under the soft glow of the room. Her hair spilled across the pillow, one hand still curled protectively over her stomach. The air was thick with quiet worry, the kind that made his chest tighten unbearably.

Everyone else--Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Amren, Mor, and Madja--froze the instant Cassian looked up, each holding their breath, waiting to see his reaction.

Cassian’s gaze didn’t leave her. Every second felt like an eternity. Every muscle in his body ached with fear, rage, and relief all at once.

He stepped closer, wings flexing, ready to shield her from anything, anyone, even the world itself.

Cassian didn’t remember moving. One heartbeat he was frozen in the doorway, the next he was at her bedside, knees hitting the floor so hard the impact echoed.

His trembling hand reached for hers--gently, like she was made of glass--and he sucked in a shuddering breath when he saw the bruising along her ribs, the dried blood at her temple.

His chest cracked open.

“Sweetheart…” His voice broke. He bowed his head, pressing her limp hand to his forehead. “Gods, I’m so sorry… I should’ve been here. I should’ve- ”

The words dissolved into a harsh exhale. His shoulders shook. Tears dripped onto her skin, warm against her cold fingers.

Azriel looked away to give him privacy. Nesta pressed her lips together tightly. Even Amren softened a fraction. The whole room held itself still, suspended, waiting.

Then-

A twitch. The smallest movement.

Cassian’s breath caught. His head snapped up, eyes wide, just as her fingers curled weakly around his.

“Y/N?”

Her eyelids fluttered… once, twice…

Then she blinked up at him, dazed and unfocused but alive.

“Cass…” she whispered, the syllable barely there, fragile but real.

A broken laugh burst out of him, wet and relieved. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing every knuckle before bringing her palm to his cheek. Tears slipped freely down his face now, but he didn’t care.

“Hi, baby,” he breathed, voice thick. “Hi… Gods, you scared the shit out of me.”

Soft sighs of relief rippled through the room, but no one spoke. No one moved. They all knew this moment wasn’t for them.

Cassian leaned forward, brushing the faintest kiss to her forehead, then another to her cheek, then he placed a trembling hand over her belly, his lips following, voice breaking:

“I love you. I love both of you. You hear me? I’m never--never--leaving your side again. Not for anything. Not for anyone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was weak but warm, her eyes shining even through the haze of pain. Her fingers slipped into his hair as best she could, a tiny gesture, but enough to make his throat tighten all over again.

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in, letting the bond fill with his love and relief and devotion.

They stayed like that, wrapped in quiet, fragile peace, until Feyre finally cleared her throat gently.

“Alright, big boy,” she said softly, but with a smile, “you got your moment. Now let us give her some space.”

Cassian exhaled shakily and nodded. He pressed one last kiss to Y/N’s temple, whispering, “I’ll be right outside,” before reluctantly standing.

The females immediately moved in--Feyre checking her pulse, Elain adjusting her pillows, Nesta brushing hair from her face, Mor whispering comfort, Amren inspecting her injuries with a clinical eye while Madja resumed her work.

Cassian stepped out into the hallway with Rhys and Azriel behind him, the door closing softly.

His face changed.

Shadows hardened his expression, the softness melting away and leaving behind something ancient and deadly. His voice when he spoke was low, cold, and terrifyingly controlled.

“You two take the other two bastards,” he said, not looking at them.

His eyes glowed with pure, unfiltered rage.

“I will deal with the leader myself.”

Rhys didn’t argue.

Azriel didn’t flinch.

They just nodded.

Because there was no mercy in Cassian now. Only vengeance.

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