The mother: Say it slowly, so I can get it. What did the Archeron girl said?
The Cauldron: she said that she doesn't want a fae for a mate. Or a mate.
The mother: she doesn't want a-? Is she nuts? I gave her the best one I have!
The Cauldron: She's a bit traumatized, but she's nice.
The mother: I know she's a bit traumatized! But he is-he's- has she seen him? He's perfect! Even I want him as a mate!
The Cauldron: I know. How do we fix it?
The mother: not a mate, not A MATE! Well,give them forced proximity, give them pent up desire, give them loneliness, give them hormones! Make her see him shirtless! Make her see him shirtless and sweating and with his hair on a bun!
The cauldron: I like that! That's nice! Should we do the one bed trope?
The mother: Smart! I love it! She's gonna be eating out of his palm soon enough.
The cauldron: he's gonna be eating her soon enough.
Summary: You want to surprise Eris but he’s stressed out and accidentally rejects you.
Warnings: angsty, hurt reader, slight miscommunication, work stress (High Lord Eris is working hard)
A/N: this ain’t shit… but Eris is still my baby
Word count: 1,4k
You were nervous as you walked into the Forrest House, your stomach fluttering as you made your way up to Eris’s office.
Since he became High Lord, a lot had changed.
You could finally hear children laughing and playing out on the streets.
Musicians were putting on shows for everyone to hear.
The land itself seemed to thrive. Trees grew taller than before, their leaves a more vibrant color.
Only the High Lord himself, you noticed, was more stressed and agitated than ever.
While out on a hunt last week, he told you how most of his nights were spent awake, plagued by his own thoughts and worries.
That’s when you decided that he needed something to put him in a better mood.
So you asked Elain to help you bake his favorite biscuits as a surprise.
On your way to the Forrest House, you also picked some lovely wildflowers, hoping they would bring a smile to his face.
And you had another important mission today…You wanted to ask him out on a date.
You two had been toeing around each other for a while now, but you were always too shy to say anything.
So today, after you gave him the gifts, you promised yourself, and Elain, you would ask him.
As you knocked on his office door, you remembered what Elain said to you: “That man is absolutely smitten with you. There is no world in which he would say no.”
You took a deep breath, pushed the door handle down, and stepped in.
Eris sat at his desk, his eyes so focused on the reports in front of him that he didn’t even notice you stepping into the room.
You walked over to him, flowers in one hand and a box filled with biscuits in the other.
A small smile played on your lips.
Everything will be fine, you thought.
Finally, as you halted in front of his desk, his head snapped up.
“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”
You let out a laugh and looked down, getting even more nervous with his gaze now fixed on you.
“Well, I am successful then. I know you’ve been so overwhelmed lately, so I wanted to surprise you.”
You held up the box and flowers to show him.
“I baked the biscuits you like so much. Oh, and I also got you some flowers.”
In the process of setting them down, you accidentally knocked over a candle.
The wax was now everywhere: on his papers and pens, the books and notebooks, even on his ink pad at the far end of the oak desk.
Your hands flew out to set the candle upright again, wax still pouring from it.
“Gods, I am so sorry, Eris. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
You looked at him, tears threatening to build because of how embarrassed you were.
Eris just stared at the ruined papers, hours of work probably gone to waste now.
You picked up one of the papers, wanting to wipe the wax off it. “Here, let me see if I can—”
“No.” Eris took the paper out of your hand. “Just leave it. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Eris was lying, he couldn’t even look at you.
You came here to cheer him up, and instead, you somehow managed to add more stress to his day.
And now you were standing in the middle of his office, shoulders slumped, guilt written all over your face.
“This wasn’t how I imagined this surprise to go.” You cringed, Eris still not looking at you.
“I didn’t want to cause you more stress. I can help you rewrite everything. And then maybe after that we can have dinner? I can make the tarts you like so much and—”
“Stop.” You flinched at his harsh tone.
“Just stop.” Eris shook his head in annoyance and sighed. “You’re making everything worse with your rambling.”
Your fingers began to tremble, and you quickly shoved them in the pockets of your dress so he wouldn’t see.
He had every right to be mad. And he also had every right to reject your dinner offer.
You almost expected him to say no, even before you destroyed half a day’s work with your mishap.
Hel, you didn’t even know if he saw you as any more than a good friend.
Sure, you were around each other often, thanks to your friendship with Elain and Lucien, but that didn’t mean he had to like you.
You must have misread the signs. Gods, this was beyond embarrassing.
He probably hated you now.
Tears gathered in your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them drop.
You would cry later in the safety of your room, but not like this and surely not in front of him.
That would just make matters worse.
“You can leave now.” Eris’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked down again, amber eyes meeting yours.
His face was unreadable, detached even. As if his body was here but his mind elsewhere.
He made no attempt to say anything else, so you turned and walked out the door, leaving the biscuits and flowers on his desk.
As you walked back to your room, you didn’t stop to greet the servants or the other librarians.
The thoughts in your head were simply too loud to acknowledge anything else.
It wasn’t until you curled up on your bed that they finally stopped racing.
—————————
A knock sounded on Eris’s office door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and Lucien poked his head in.
“I didn’t think you would be here.”
Lucien closed the heavy oak door behind him and sauntered up to where Eris was sitting.
“Elain said you would already be gone by now.”
Eris looked up from where he was writing, his eyebrows furrowed. “And where exactly would I be if not here?”
Arms crossed and hip propped against the desk, Lucien replied, “Oh, I don’t know… maybe at dinner with a certain librarian?”
Eris just looked at him, mouth slightly agape, a clueless expression on his face.
“I know she was here and brought you these.”
Lucien held up the gifts you left for Eris.
“And you’re still working, so I’m assuming you said no?”
Eris was standing now, the reports before him completely forgotten. “What do you mean I said no?”
“Wait… she didn’t ask you?!” It was Lucien’s turn to act confused.
“I swear to the Mother, Lucien. If you don’t tell me right now what exactly is happening, I’m going to find methods to make you talk.”
Lucien held up his hands in surrender.
“I’ll tell you, no need to get all violent.”
He chuckled and continued,
“Y/N mentioned she was going to surprise you to cheer you up. I also overheard Y/N telling my mate that she wanted to invite you to dinner. I figured she’d asked you today, but maybe I misheard.”
Eris’s eyes were wide.
“She was going to ask me what?” he asked, hands digging into the wooden desk.
“She wanted to invite you to dinner. Just you and her.”
After a few seconds of silence, Lucien added, “like a date… I presume.”
At that, Eris went unrecognizably still.
Then he rounded the table and strode to the door, swinging it open with so much force that it crashed into the wall.
Lucien could only mutter a confused, “Where are you-” before Eris was out the door and down the hall.
Finding your room was easy. Eris had been there often enough to know the way.
He was running now, servants and nobles alike turning their heads and giving him confused looks.
But Eris couldn’t care less.
His priority was getting to you and explaining himself, plus a lot of begging for a second chance.
He slowed down and came to a stop in front of your room.
Right as he lifted his fist to knock, he heard Elain’s voice through the door.
“It’s going to be okay. This will pass.”
“You should have seen his face, Elain. I made such a fool of myself by even asking him. I shouldn’t be surprised that he rejected my offer. I basically ruined his entire day with my stupidity.”
Eris’s heart sank at that. He had been so stressed about the reports that he didn’t even hear you say anything.
The only thing he remembered was you stepping in to the office.
And then wax was pouring all over the documents and his mind just… left.
If he hadn’t dissociated, he would’ve- he would’ve said yes.
How could he not? You were the smartest, funniest and most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes upon.
You were a ray of sunshine in his life, always brightening up his day.
And now you were in your room, crying because of him, and he could do nothing except stand there and listen to your muffled sobs.
A/N: don’t worry, they have their happy ever after. Eris finds her the next day. He apologises over and over again, takes her out to dinner and they have five beautiful children. 
Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?
Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots
A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.
Word count: 3.3k
It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.
As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.
Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.
All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.
Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.
Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.
I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.
Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.
Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.
His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.
I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.
Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”
Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”
I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.
Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”
With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”
I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.
———————————————————
Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.
As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.
I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.
Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.
I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.
Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”
But his words do little to calm me.
“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.
I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”
Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”
Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”
Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.
But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”
My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.
“How do you know about the bond?”
Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”
She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”
I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.
——————————————————
Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.
Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.
Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.
“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.
I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”
Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”
Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”
Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”
I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.
“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”
Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”
We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.
As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.
Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.
How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...
It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.
One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.
He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.
Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.
———————————————————
After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.
“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.
Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”
Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.
Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”
I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.
“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.
Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.
We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.
“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”
“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.
Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”
I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.
The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.
The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.
As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.
His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.
“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.
I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.
He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”
I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”
———————————————————
Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.
As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.
At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.
Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.
As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.
“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.
Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.
Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.
Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”
Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”
Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.
My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”
Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”
“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”
Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.
And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.
Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”
I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.
Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”
In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.
“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”
And with that, all hell breaks loose.
———————————————————
Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.
Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.
My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.
The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.
As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.
Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.
Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.
Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.
I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.
Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.
He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.
I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.
Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.
A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.
"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"
Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”
"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"
Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.
With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.
Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.
Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.
We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.
I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.
The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.
Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.
But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.
The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.
As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.
Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?
Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots
A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.
Word count: 3.3k
It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.
As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.
Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.
All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.
Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.
Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.
I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.
Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.
Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.
His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.
I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.
Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”
Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”
I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.
Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”
With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”
I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.
———————————————————
Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.
As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.
I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.
Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.
I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.
Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”
But his words do little to calm me.
“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.
I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”
Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”
Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”
Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.
But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”
My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.
“How do you know about the bond?”
Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”
She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”
I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.
——————————————————
Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.
Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.
Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.
“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.
I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”
Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”
Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”
Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”
I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.
“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”
Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”
We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.
As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.
Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.
How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...
It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.
One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.
He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.
Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.
———————————————————
After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.
“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.
Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”
Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.
Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”
I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.
“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.
Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.
We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.
“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”
“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.
Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”
I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.
The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.
The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.
As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.
His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.
“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.
I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.
He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”
I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”
———————————————————
Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.
As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.
At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.
Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.
As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.
“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.
Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.
Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.
Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”
Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”
Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.
My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”
Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”
“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”
Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.
And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.
Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”
I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.
Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”
In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.
“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”
And with that, all hell breaks loose.
———————————————————
Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.
Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.
My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.
The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.
As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.
Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.
Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.
Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.
I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.
Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.
He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.
I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.
Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.
A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.
"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"
Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”
"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"
Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.
With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.
Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.
Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.
We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.
I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.
The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.
Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.
But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.
The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.
As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.
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