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She/her 23✨

[kymawrites]

Lay Your Hand in Mine

a/n: the people voted for a long fic...so voilà

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: language, anxiety attack, canon-typical violence, smut (18+)

word count: 19.7k

synopsis: You never wanted to be a spy. You never wanted to work for the High Lord of Night. You never wanted to be trained by the male that faeries whispered horror stories about. Then again, those were just stories, and that very male might be your salvation.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

“Step forward, girl.”

You gritted your teeth as you obeyed your High Lord, the male sitting on a sparkling throne of moonstone. His eyes were a striking, cold violet, framed by the harsh lines of his face. Objectively, he was beautiful, but it was hard to appreciate beauty in the male who you were being forced to serve for probably as long as he lived.

You bowed your head in submission, heart pounding with anger and anticipation. Kier had tried to stifle you the moment he recognized the power that dwelled in your bones. He couldn’t stand his niece potentially having more power than him, and when he was given the opportunity to simultaneously ship you off and do a favor for his High Lord, he didn’t hesitate.

You slowly lifted your head, fighting to hide your fear in front of this powerful male. Something like amusement glimmered in his eyes as he watched you. It infuriated you, but you supposed it was better than ire.

Your eyes slowly shifted to the male standing behind him. An Illyrian, if his glowing siphons and the massive wings flared out from his back were any indication. A shadowsinger too, you realized as the darkness around him seemed to pulse with life. Rumors had circled for decades about the male, fearful whispers passed amongst the fae in the Court of Nightmares. Now to see him in the flesh, to put a face to the terrifying stories—it was unsettling, to say the least.

His face was like granite, a mask of utter indifference hiding whatever thoughts dwelled beneath. He didn’t look at you, not even when your gaze lingered on him a second too long, before the High Lord drew your attention back to him. “I assume you know your purpose here.”

Your mouth was dry as you struggled to find the words you needed. “I’m afraid not, my Lord,” you answered, voice rough.

His eyes narrowed. “Kier gave you no explanation?”

You swallowed hard, glancing at the shadowsinger behind him again. “He said my power would best be suited here, in direct service to you and your court,” you said, voice quiet but clear. It took everything in you to enunciate your words. “But I must admit that I do not know what makes me unique from any other High Fae.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, fingers drumming on the arm of the throne. “Kier lied to me then, when he said you can make yourself invisible?”

Your stomach dropped. Of course Kier knew. You could feel the weight of the shadowsinger’s gaze now on you, but you kept your eyes glued to the High Lord. “No, sir, that was not a lie.”

His brow twitched, as if he expected such an answer. “Well then, I suppose you do know why you are here.”

“I did not realize that the power held any true value.”

A beat of silence passed as he looked you over, then he ordered, “Azriel, step forward.”

The Illyrian did as he was told, the shadows dissipating a bit to reveal more of his face. He was undeniably stunning, his beauty as sharp and lethal as the obsidian dagger that hung at his side. His eyes were somehow vibrant yet cold as they roved over your body, pure analytical criticism behind his gaze. “Azriel is my spymaster. He reports to me,” the High Lord said, tone verging on haughty. “And you will report to him.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you dragged your gaze from the Shadowsinger to meet the High Lord’s eyes again. “Do you mean I am to be a spy?” you asked incredulously.

His eyes flashed at your tone, your chest squeezing tight. “Do you question me?” he asked, voice lethally soft.

You tipped your head down slightly, heart pounding. “Of course not, my lord,” you replied quietly.

“Do you not think a female with the gift of hiding in plain sight would make an excellent addition to her court’s spy network?” he asked again, although it was clearly rhetorical. 

You didn’t think you were breathing. You clenched your hands into fists, counting to five before answering him shakily, “I do not know how to control it.”

“Well then,” he said, his voice void of all amusement, “Azriel will have his work cut out for him.”

Your eyes cut to the Illyrian again, who was still staring at you with harsh and calculating eyes. His shadows seemed to strain against whatever leash he kept them on, begging to break free to unleash Mother knew what kind of terror. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach as your fate slowly unfolded before you. A life working under the High Lord’s infamous Shadowsinger. 

Mother save you.

~ ~ ~

Two Weeks Later

“Get up.”

You closed your eyes, ignoring the male hovering above you. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, pain searing up your back from your fall. He kicked your leg lightly with the toe of his boot, and you opened your eyes reluctantly to meet his cold hazel ones.

You still didn’t move though, and a flash of anger appeared on his normally stoic face. “You are never going to improve if you don’t get up.”

You slowly sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Maybe I don’t want to improve,” you snapped. 

You immediately regretted your brazenness when Azriel’s nostrils flared, and he slowly crouched down in front of you. You swallowed hard at the anger painted clearly across his face. This frankly terrifying male you had trained with every day for two weeks now, who had not once shown any hint of his emotions, was now staring you down with ire in his eyes.

You were foolish. Such a fool to grow complacent in his presence, to think that his indifference meant he wasn’t still the male that faeries whispered horror stories about back in Hewn City. Of course, he was. Kier didn’t send you here for a vacation, or as a reward—he sent you here because he hated you, and he wanted you away from his court.

“Mother’s tits,” Azriel breathed. “Where the hell did you go?”

You froze at his words, and you looked down to see the faint glimmer across your skin that you knew meant you had morphed into your surroundings. Your body was trembling as you watched him stare directly through you. No one had ever seen you use your powers. Not knowingly, at least, since someone must have for Kier to have known about you.

Azriel had been demanding for you to shift for two weeks. Every demand met your refusal, because you couldn’t. It just happened, and you didn’t know how.

You flinched when he startled, rocking back a bit and catching himself with his hand. His wide eyes locked directly on yours, and your heart stopped. The glimmer of your skin was gone, and you knew you were in even deeper shit now.

“I thought you couldn’t shift,” he said slowly, voice lethally soft.

Somehow that was scarier than if he had yelled at you. You were trembling as you answered weakly, “I told you I can’t control it.” Your eyes burned as you stared into his unforgiving ones. “I’m only here because Kier felt inexplicably threatened by me. By a power I don’t understand and can’t even use. I’m not a warrior, or a godsdamned spy.”

Azriel stayed crouched in front of you, his beautiful eyes quietly assessing you, without giving even a hint as to what he was thinking. Eventually, he stood up slowly, but his gaze didn’t leave yours. “You are now,” he responded quietly.

That’s not what you wanted to hear. You didn’t want him to yell at you either, but it felt like you were balancing on a precipice, waiting for a drop that you desperately wanted someone to save you from. Your lip trembled, and you gritted your teeth to try to quell the overt display of emotion. “I don’t want to be.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.” His voice was…not warm, but less unfeeling than you were used to. “Clearly your power is driven by fear. It’s a defense mechanism.”

You flattened your lips at his obvious assessment, hating that he was aware of the effect he had on you. “It doesn’t have to be, though,” he continued, surprising you. “You can learn to control it.”

He then practically disappeared into his shadows, darkness swallowing him whole. You watched in awe as he reappeared, the tendrils of darkness slowly dissipating. “I didn’t used to be able to do that at will.”

You didn’t ask what his powers used to be like, how they used to manifest themselves, or why they even made an appearance. Something in your gut told you his answer wouldn’t be pleasant. “You might be the High Lord’s newest pet,” he mumbled gruffly, making you bristle, “But your training can be for you. Not for him—you.” His eyes seared into yours. “The only thing apathy is going to get you here is killed.”

His words settled in your stomach like rocks. Each sentence was a brutal bullet of truth as the reality of your situation truly sank in. Your trembling had stopped though, as you slowly realized that he was not, in fact, going to flay you alive for your disrespect. He might very well be the person to pull you from the edge you were close to toppling over.

He reached his hand out, his scarred palm open toward you. “Get up,” he said again, but this time his tone was resolute, any anger gone.

You slowly placed your much smaller hand in his, his fingers wrapping around yours tightly. An inexplicable spark ran up your arm and down your spine, knocking the breath you had gained back clean from your lungs. He pulled you up easily, his grip staying firm even once you were back on your unsteady feet. He squeezed your hand as he looked you in the eyes, his gaze unwavering and seemingly unaffected. “You’re in this now, like it or not,” he said, but his words were not cruel, simply matter of fact. “The only way out is through.”

~ ~ ~

Two Months Later

You stood side by side with Azriel, his wings flared out slightly behind him. You were being extra careful not to back into the delicate membrane. You had learned the hard way in training last week that Illyrians were overly protective of their wings. Embarrassment and remorse still flooded you every time you thought about how close you came to accidentally slicing through Azriel’s wing. That had been your first and last dagger handling lesson in the two months you had been stuck here.

Your back was ramrod straight as you watched the court members revel in their drinks and dancing, all while Kier glared daggers at you from across the throne room. You had rarely been in this room even when you still resided in the Court of Nightmares. Your parents didn’t particularly care about your comings and goings, an indifference you resented as a child but grew to appreciate once you caught Kier’s attention as an adult. Your blood simmered as you glared back at the slimy male, and you wondered not for the first time what your parents had thought about his schemes for you. They probably didn’t give two fucks, if you were honest with yourself.

“Stop.” Azriel’s low voice startled you from your bubbling rage. You caught a glimpse of the shadow twirling around your ankle, and you lifted your shoulders in defiance.

You didn’t question how he knew about the storm slowly brewing inside you. Over the last two months, you had learned how intuitive the male was. It was both impressive and infuriating. Maybe even comforting, if you were honest with yourself. No one had ever paid enough attention to you to sense what you were feeling. No one ever cared, until Azriel. Even if it was mostly during training sessions.  “I don’t want to be here,” you grumbled.

His eyes cut to yours briefly. “Watch your words.”

Your mouth clamped shut at that, feeling like a reprimanded child. “The High Lord already came and went. Why can’t we?” you asked, voice hushed.

“Because that’s not how this works,” he replied in a low growl, effectively ending the conversation.

You let out a long sigh through your nose, accepting your fate for the next few hours. For a while, you watched familiar faces grin and dance and drink. You didn’t envy them, and you certainly didn’t miss them. You knew first-hand that joy was absent amongst those that dwelled in this mountain, but you were still angry. Angry that you were torn from your life and chucked into another one without any say in the matter. 

Eventually you tore your gaze from the revelers, and opted for staring at the overzealous buffet of food, plotting how you might swipe a pastry from the spread. Then you caught Kier moving from his post on the other side of the room, his face hard and eyes brimming with hatred as he stormed toward you. You immediately went still, anxiety flooding you at what he had planned.

Azriel stood up even straighter, his wings flaring a bit. You subconsciously moved closer to him as you shifted your footing, finding a strange comfort in the heat that radiated from him, his presence alone steadying you.

“Y/N,” Kier greeted, your name dripping with acid. “You must be proud of yourself. Already promoted to dutiful lapdog alongside the fearsome shadowsinger.”

“Always a pleasure, Kier,” Azriel said drily.

Kier’s eyes flashed with contempt as he looked at Azriel. “You Illyrian piece of—“

“Kier,” a smooth, honeyed voice purred. Azriel and you both froze at the sight of the male now next to Kier. His violet eyes sent ice through your veins, an uncanny resemblance to the ones you had grown to loathe these last couple of months.

Kier straightened, his irritation still clearly painted on his face. “Rhysand,” he gritted out, and the male grinned. “Glad you could join us tonight.”

The High Lord’s son didn’t drop his smile, his lips only curling further. He glanced at Azriel, to your alarm, before returning his gaze to Kier. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he cooed. “Happy Birthday, by the way. Morrigan sends her regards.”

Kier’s face flushed at the mention of his daughter, and even you were surprised by his words. Rhysand clapped Kier on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he crooned, and Kier clenched his jaw, “but I need to borrow these two.”

Your hands grew clammy as his gaze fell to you and Azriel. You had yet to meet the High Lord’s son, but if he was anything like his father, you were sure you did not want to engage in conversation with the male.

“Of course,” Kier agreed begrudgingly. He walked away with one last scathing glance cast toward you, then disappeared into the swarm of bodies.

Rhysand glanced between you and Azriel, the latter still wearing his usual mask of cold indifference. “Follow me,” Rhysand said before leading the two of you through a door at the back of the throne room, your steps heavy and reluctant. Azriel followed closely behind you. His presence was the only thing holding you back from spiraling into a panic as Rhysand led you further and further down a winding, dark and desolate hall.

Eventually, he stopped in front of another door, pushing it open slowly before gesturing to you and Azriel to enter. You hesitated though, barely able to make out rows of bookshelves along the far wall of the dark room. You flinched when someone grazed the small of your back, the touch immediately falling away when you turned to look over your shoulder. Azriel was watching you expectantly, his eyebrows raised slightly. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

You glanced back at Rhysand, who surprisingly didn’t seem annoyed by your apprehension. He almost seemed amused, but you couldn’t fathom why. Reluctantly, you stepped through the threshold, Azriel following behind you, and then Rhysand shut the door with a soft click. As soon as the door shut, faelights illuminated the small room, which, to your relief, was just a small study.

“Az,” Rhysand said, voice no longer coated with charm, but something far more familiar. You couldn’t fathom why he had suddenly changed his tone, but when you turned around to look at the male, you were given your answer as you watched Rhysand wrap Azriel in a hug, one of his hands clasping the back of Azriel’s head.

The High Lord’s son hugging Azriel was shocking, but what was even more shocking was Azriel reciprocating the hug. He practically melted into Rhysand, and your brain couldn’t process the rare display of emotion from the normally stone-faced shadowsinger you had trained with these months. Just getting him to smile slightly had been akin to pulling teeth, and now here he was, clutching Rhysand like his life depended on it.

Their hug only lasted a few seconds, and while your mind was swimming from the display, you couldn’t bring yourself to break whatever bubble of peace they seemed to be in with each other. Azriel asked quietly, “How is Cass?”

Rhysand’s throat bobbed. “Good, as far as I’ve heard. I haven’t seen him in months, though.”

Azriel nodded, taking in his words. “And Mor?”

Your attention was snagged by that, unable to ignore the mention of her name again. “You know Mor?” you asked.

Both of the males turned to look at you. You fought back a sudden rush of nerves, forcing your gaze to stay glued to Azriel. Any ease that was momentarily on his face was erased, and once again the cold mask of apathy was back in place. A mask you suddenly hated, now that you had seen him without it. A mask he dropped with the High Lord’s son, of all people. 

Now you didn’t really think he owed you much, and you were honestly okay with the cool, indifferent demeanor he kept around you when you had assumed that was just his personality. You had taken pride in the small half-smiles you had coaxed from him these weeks. You had even started to think he might actually like you. After all, he paid enough mind to recognize your shift in moods. He never seemed to be in a rush to end your training sessions, not like he was the first couple of weeks—but now you just felt like a fool. And he knew your cousin? He couldn’t have been bothered to share at least that with you?

When it was clear Azriel wasn’t going to respond, Rhysand stepped forward, his hands in his suit pockets. “Morrigan is my cousin,” he said, smiling gently. “Loosely.”

You felt like your stomach had been flipped inside out. “Cousin?” you squeaked out.

“Loosely,” he said again, as if that really mattered. “I suppose you and I are as well.”

You were going to be sick. You were related to the male who you were forced to serve every day for the foreseeable future—and no one told you. Azriel didn’t tell you.

Rhysand must have noticed your panic, because he quickly added, “Again, a very distant relation. I certainly don’t consider Kier my family.” He glanced at Azriel, who was standing there watching the entire thing, with nothing to contribute to the conversation apparently. “But Mor grew up with us. She is my family.”

“Us?”

Rhysand flinched, then cut a glare toward the Illyrian beside him. “Az, what exactly have you told the poor girl?” 

“Nothing, apparently,” you snapped out, your anger overwhelming you. You didn’t know why you felt so betrayed, so hurt by Azriel’s omissions. You knew you weren’t friends, but he was also your only ally in this wretched situation, and it fucking hurt to know he still didn’t trust you enough to share basic information about himself. About his relationships with your own family.

You were nodding absently, barely aware of your movements. “Right,” you murmured, taking a step toward the door.

Azriel immediately stepped in front of you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you,” you hissed, moving around him.

This time Rhysand blocked you, a guilty smile on his face when you glared at him. “I can’t exactly let you wander the halls.”

“And don’t winnow away,” Azriel cut in quickly.

“And if I turn invisible?” you asked, hands clenched at your side. It was an empty threat, since you still couldn’t control it well, which Azriel was well aware of.

“Then I would be impressed,” Azriel said softly. “But my shadows would still find you.”

Your eyes were burning as you looked between the two males, every emotion you had shoved down these last two months bubbling to the surface. You had been alone your entire life, and you had let yourself think that maybe for the first time, with Azriel, you weren’t. You had started to think maybe that was the silver lining to this entire situation, that for the first time in your life you finally had a comrade, a confidant. Clearly, you were naive. You were truly alone in this.

“I have to go,” Rhysand said quietly to Azriel. Then to you, “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” He then disappeared into the dark, leaving you alone with your swirling hurt and anger, and Azriel.

“I want to leave,” you whispered.

“No,” Azriel said. “Tell me what you're thinking first.” Now he wanted to talk. Actually he wanted you to talk, which was ironic given the situation.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I?”

Azriel looked exasperated. “Because I don’t understand why you are so upset right now.”

Your chest tightened at his words, because honestly, you didn’t understand it either. You didn’t know why you were so angry at him, why you were so hurt that he didn’t trust you. You had only known him a couple of months. “I’m upset that you don’t trust me.”

He looked at you incredulously. “You think I don’t trust you?”

You blinked at him. “I think it’s pretty fucking obvious!” you exclaimed. “I have trained with you every day for two months. You’ve seen me turn invisible, which is something I have never shared with anyone. I’ve bitched and moaned about the horrors of living under Kier, about the pain of living with apathetic parents, and you have told me nothing about yourself.”

Your chest was heaving, and you quickly wiped away the tear that was rolling down your cheek, but you knew that Azriel saw it. “And I was okay with that, really. You didn’t owe me anything, but to learn that you’re friends with the High Lord's son? That you know my cousin?” Your voice cracked as you shook your head. “My cousin, who I wasn’t even sure was still alive. You couldn’t even tell me that?”

Azriel stared at you for a long minute. “I had to make sure you didn’t have loyalties to Kier.”

As if you would ever do anything to help that male. You nodded your head, your lips pursing. “Right.”

“But now I know you don’t,” he added, voice irritatingly calm in the face of your storm.

A self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips. “Yet you still didn’t tell me any of this.”

He frowned, taking a small step closer. Your heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and you hated the way he made you feel at that moment. Why did this male’s mere presence offer you so much comfort, when it was clear you didn’t do anything for him?  

“Why do you think I let you come with me tonight?” he asked softly.

You watched him for a moment, confusion mixing with your anger and hurt. “What do you mean?”

“When Rhysand approached us tonight,” he said, “I told him he could trust you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. You had been standing next to him the entire night. “No, you didn’t.”

Azriel nodded slowly. “Rhys is a daemati. He asked me if we could trust you, if we could speak freely in front of you, and I told him yes.” His voice was gentle when he added, “Because I do trust you.”

Your lip trembled as you absorbed his words. Your anger quickly morphed into embarrassment. You were such a mess. 

 “Is that really what made you so upset?” Azriel asked, though his question wasn’t mocking. Not in the slightest, which made you feel even more foolish for getting so angry.

You tried to find the words to answer him, to explain yourself and your volatile emotions tonight, but you couldn’t. You shook your head, feeling deflated and overwhelmed. Tears were fully streaming down your cheeks, and with a startling clarity, you realized you had not cried since you were handed off to be the High Lord’s dutiful spy.

You slowly sank down to the floor, your back resting against the mahogany desk in the center of the room. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said, voice hoarse. You laughed weakly. “Not that I have any choice in the matter.”

Azriel didn’t move. He didn’t say anything while he waited for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the desk. “I just feel so alone.”

You heard Azriel shuffling around, and you felt the heat radiating from his body as he sat down beside you. You opened your eyes, apprehension still swimming in your veins. His wings were awkwardly splayed behind him, with one resting haphazardly against the side of the desk so he could sit beside you. “What are you doing?” you asked softly.

“Sitting down.” He shuffled a bit more, his shoulder bumping into yours.

“I need you to understand something,” he finally said, eyes locked on yours. “I’ve been doing this for nearly a century, and it’s been hell. I didn’t have any choice in the matter either.”

That…surprised you. You didn’t know why you had assumed he might have actually chosen this for himself. You actually felt a bit shitty for it. He was far too good of male to willingly work for the High Lord.

“So I understand, probably better than anyone, how you are feeling,” he said softly. You didn’t know what to do with this softer version of Azriel. This usually cold male who hid in his shadows and rarely smiled was apparently someone who also hugged his friends, and he was sitting beside you, speaking to you tenderly after watching you spiral into your anger and panic.

He grabbed your hand, sending goosebumps across your flesh. He squeezed it gently. “You’re not alone.”

Gods. You wiped at your face with your free hand, sniffing a bit. “I’m sorry,” you repeated lamely. It was all you could think to say.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, still holding your hand. “I should have told you about Rhys and Mor earlier. Especially Mor. I understand.”

And that was all you really wanted, wasn’t it? You just wanted someone who understood you, who understood your thoughts and feelings. For whatever reason, you thought Azriel might be the first person who could give that to you.

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, whispering again, “You’re not alone.”

~ ~ ~

Four Months Later

“You have to control it.”

“I’m trying,” you growled, pushing yourself up from the floor.

“Not hard enough,” Azriel countered, his arms crossed over his chest.

You could throttle him. If you could actually reach him, that is. “How do I know your shadows aren’t helping you?”

“Why would I need their help?” he asked, and your rapidly rising anger made your cheeks flush. “You can’t even stay invisible long enough to reach me.”

This was fucking ridiculous. You were sick and tired of trying and failing every day for the last six months. You were tired of disappointing him every single day. “This is pointless.”

Azriel stepped forward, closing in on your space. “It’s not pointless,” he countered, eyes slightly narrowed. “How long do you think the High Lord is going to entertain this?” 

Your stomach dropped at his words. You hated the High Lord. Loathed him, actually. He constantly sent for Azriel, making him do things that made Azriel return with shadows in his eyes, his shoulders tight and lips locked tight. He didn’t speak to you for days after the especially brutal orders, unless he was barking orders at you during training.

You hated it. You didn’t know for sure what he was making Azriel do, when he called for him. Azriel had told you that eventually you would have to go on extended missions, to actually spy, but he had only been on a handful since you arrived, your training somehow taking priority. You imagined these other orders of his were what fueled the horror stories whispered across the courts about the Night Court Shadowsinger.

You had quickly learned he was not the monster those stories painted him as. You never feared him. Not since those first weeks you trained with him. Not even when he came back as a terrifying shell of himself. He might have been harsh during those moments, but he was never cruel, and he never threatened you. If he said something, he meant it. It was never empty threats or promises with the intent to scare you, which is why you knew when he brought up the High Lord, he was deadly serious.

You swallowed hard, fighting to keep your eyes on his. “Maybe I don’t want to give him the satisfaction,” you said, your volume rising. “Maybe I don’t want to just be another novelty in the High Lord’s pocket.”

Your words dripped with the venom of your misplaced anger, which was immediately washed over with guilt when Azriel’s jaw flexed. It was the closest thing to a flinch for him.

“I didn’t mean—” you said quickly, voice much softer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut you off. “It’s not about him. I’ve told you this.”

He had told you that. Many times. Your guilt multiplied tenfold. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes falling to your boot clad feet.

“I understand why you’re angry, Y/N.” Your name on his lips made your stomach inexplicably flip, which was also ridiculous. He kept talking, his voice dropping lower, “But I am worried about what will happen if you don’t prove yourself to the High Lord. It’s not about proving yourself to me—you never have to do that. I think you’re remarkable without or without some rare power, but the High Lord doesn’t think like that.”

Remarkable. Azriel thought you were remarkable. It was definitely not what your brain should have latched onto from his little speech, but you couldn’t help it. No one had ever thought that of you, let alone said that to you. 

Your eyes were burning as you said, “I really am trying. I just don’t know how to connect with it.”

Azriel pondered you for a moment, his eyes flitting over your face. “Come here,” he said, then walked toward the terrace of the training room. Living in the House of Wind, in Velaris, was by far one of the few good things to have come out of this shitty situation. At first you had panicked when Azriel told you a couple months ago that you were moving here, to a house inside of another mountain, but it was nothing like Hewn City.

It was open and airy, and you had watched Azriel jump from the terraces and balconies scattered throughout many times. You were almost positive you could winnow out of here if you worked up the courage to jump over one of the railings, to explore the city and the faeries that lived down below, but you weren’t ready for that. 

You stood nearly toe to toe with Azriel once he stopped near the edge, looking up at him. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to the forest.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes as his hands slowly planted themself on your waist. Your heart was pounding under his gaze, his touch.

Did you trust him? Somehow, you did. He was the only male, the only faerie, that you could say with absolute certainty that you trusted implicitly. It terrified you.

“Yes,” you whispered. 

Azriel’s eyes softened slightly. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you a bit closer. “Because we’re going to fly.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, literally sweeping you off your feet so your body was cradled to his chest. Your hands fell to his shoulders, a small and embarrassing shriek falling from your lips. “We’re what?”

Azriel smiled. Fully beamed at you, and it knocked the breath from your lungs. “Hold on,” he said, then shot up into the cool night sky.

You instantly buried your head in his chest, muttering prayers to the Mother. Azriel only laughed softly, his wings beating against the air that whipped your hair around you. You hadn’t left the House of Wind since you moved in. You hadn’t felt true wind against your face, save for the breeze that floated over the balconies, in months. This was not how you imagined reacquainting yourself with nature, though.

“Look down.”

“You’re insane.”

Azriel laughed, the sound so light and airy it made you pull your head from his chest to look at him. His eyes were brighter than you had ever seen them. “Just do it,” he said, nodding toward the city beneath you.

You reluctantly looked down, the distance between you and the ground making your head swim. Then you saw the lights that illuminated the city, the place glimmering like a pool of starlight. You could faintly make out the chatter of the faeries still traipsing the streets, paying no mind that it was nearing midnight and the skies had long been dark. You looked up at the sky, actual stars sparkling across the midnight sky. You wondered what it would have been like to grow up with the night sky above you, rather than cold stone.

Azriel veered toward the forests lining the mountain, his face soft in the moonlight. His hair fluttered in the wind, looking much more graceful than the nest you were sure yours was wound into.

“You like flying,” you said softly.

“It’s my favorite thing.”

“I can see why,” you hummed. You left it at that, not wanting to push when he was already sharing this much with you. 

He eventually landed in the snow, his landing gentle but still creating a plume of powdery flakes around the two of you. Some flakes caught on your eyelashes, making you blink a bit to clear them from your vision.

“Sorry,” Azriel said sheepishly, setting you on your feet. 

You laughed, your heart feeling lighter than it had thirty minutes ago. “It’s fine, Az.”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes a bit wide and a grin slowly pulling at his lips.

You stopped brushing the snow from your clothes, meeting his eyes. “What?”

Azriel shook his head, the small smile still pulling at his lips. “Nothing,” he hummed softly. “Let’s get started.”

He guided you toward the center of a large snowy patch, away from the pine trees covering the forest floor. He took a few steps away from you, leaving you standing there replaying your words from earlier in your head, trying to figure out what he had found so amusing. If only so you could do it again.

“You’ve only ever let fear and anger control your power,” he began. His shadows slowly snaked around him, the inky tendrils contrasting beautifully with the pearlescent snow. One of them broke off, gliding effortlessly toward you before it was yanked back to him.

He looked half-way flustered, standing in front of you, but the pink hue of his cheeks could easily be because of the bite of the cold winter air. 

You decided you were delusional when he kept speaking, his voice unwavering and tone as neutral as ever, “I want you to try something different. You need to connect with your power, not resent it, or fear it.”

You tossed your arms out to your side, impatience gnawing at you alongside the bitter cold. “I’m all ears.” You quickly wrapped your arms back around yourself when a shiver wracked your body. “Not all of us are Illyrian warriors that grew up sleeping in the snow.”

Azriel’s lips twitched, then he said, “I want you to close your eyes.”

You eyed him warily, uncertainty ingrained into you at this point. You weren’t sure if you could handle fucking this up again.

“Just do it, please,” he sighed. You did as he said, the snow crunching under your boots as you shifted on your feet. “Now forget about everything. Don’t think about the High Lord, or Kier, your parents, or even me.”

You fought back the quip that forgetting them was nearly impossible, and instead tried to do as he asked. He was trying to help you, after all, and he did have a century of experience over you, you supposed. 

“Now what?”

“Be patient,” Azriel chided softly. 

You let out a huff, begrudgingly pushing your impatience aside to wait for his instructions. You felt ridiculous standing in the middle of the forest, your eyes closed and your hair tangled and damp from the snow. You supposed it didn’t matter, or at least, it shouldn’t matter when Azriel was the only one here.

You heard his boots crunch the snow beneath his feet, the sound obviously intentional to let you track him slowly circling you. “Focus on the air around you,” he murmured. “Feel the bite of it against your skin, how it cools the heat of your cheeks. The smell of the snow and lingering salt from the sea that tinges it.”

You breathed in deep, focusing on his words, leaning into the sensations he painted for you. You noted the scent of the sea and snow, but you also noted the faint scent of cedar that wafted over you, and something distinctly Azriel. You licked your lips, trying to refocus your thoughts.

“Think about the snow beneath your feet. Picture the stars above you. Visualize the trees in the forest, the ones that were here long before you and I, the saplings that are fighting for their place amongst them.”

Your mind was so…still. Your body felt heavy and weightless all at the same time as you fell into the world he painted for you. “Picture yourself as the sapling. You’re young and fresh and learning how to connect with your nature. It’s not something you have to fight for, but something you have to accept. It’s already there, living inside you, flowing through your veins. It’s a part of you, just as much as the sapling is a part of the forest.”

He was right. Your power was there, flowing through your veins, begging to be released, to be played with. It was tired of hiding, of being stifled and then yanked at for someone else’s agenda. It was yours. It was as much your power as as every other fae gift the Cauldron had blessed you with. It laid dormant when you winnowed, waiting for you to uncover it. 

You pictured yourself stroking that thread of power weaved through you, brushing aside the shadows that had kept it hidden for decades. You let it glow and spread through you, warming you from the inside out.

“Stunning,” Azriel breathed, and your eyes flew open, finding him standing a few feet in front of you with awe and pride beaming from his face.

You risked a glance down at your hand. The glimmer of your skin refracted back at you, and you laughed. For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were hanging on to it by a thread, clutching the ends tight, desperate to hold on. It was just there. It was yours, and it was so cathartic to feel it flowing through you instead of drowning you in a fit of fear.

“I knew you could do it,” Azriel murmured. Your heart clenched at his words, and your eyes were burning as you looked back at him, but then realized he couldn’t see you.

You had half a mind to finally knock him on his ass after so many failed attempts in training. You were just so happy, though, for the first time in so many months, and it was because of him. 

You winnowed directly in front of him, your power unwavering, and reached for his hand at his side. As soon as your fingers brushed against his he instinctively flinched away, his eyes going wide before a smile broke across his face.

You were laughing when you finally let your power wash away, revealing yourself to him. Your grin matched his own as you squeezed his hand. “I did it.”

“You did it,” he agreed, eyes soft as he smiled at you.

You threw your arms around his waist, pulling him tight against you. Azriel hesitated only a second before wrapping his arms around you, leaning his chin down to rest on your head. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, a tear falling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me.”

~ ~ ~

Six Months Later

“I killed him.”

“Y/N—”

“I killed him!” you sobbed, falling to your knees. The stone floor of the dungeon was cold beneath your palms as you heaved the contents of your stomach up, your throat burning. 

Azriel fell to the floor behind you, one hand holding you up by your forearm while another gently brushed your hair back from your face. Your body shook with your sobs, as you whimpered over and over again, “I killed him.”

Azriel let you stay on the ground for only a few seconds before he pulled you up to your feet, your body pliant in his arms. You didn’t care where he took you, what he did with you. He picked you up easily, and your face fell into his leather clad chest as you were wrapped in his shadows. Harsh winter air whipped around you, and you caught a glimpse of snow in your peripheral, but you couldn’t stop the sobs that were racking your body.

You heard him push open a door, and warmth infused with jasmine immediately engulfed the two of you. You briefly thought it was one of the most comforting places you had ever been in. He kicked the door shut, then gently sat you down on a plush sofa, your body sinking into the cushions. You still had enough sense to finally ask, “Where are we?”

“We’re at a cabin my brothers and I come to,” he said softly as he slowly peeled off your bloodstained gloves. You nearly hurled again at the sight of them. “I had to get you out of there.”

“I killed someone, Az,” you whispered, staring aimlessly at the ash covered fireplace. 

His thumb stroked your cheek. “I know.”

Your lip wobbled. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” he replied back.

“How can you say that?”

“Because I know you,” he said, voice resolute. “He was a monster.”

“Yet I’m the one that killed him,” you rasped, more tears falling down your face. “I tortured him, and then killed him.”

“You had your orders.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” you cried. “What if one day my orders are to kill an innocent person? What’s my excuse then?” You wiped roughly at your face, new tears replacing your dried ones. “I cannot be his killing machine, Azriel. I can’t.”

“You’re not,” he said again.

“Yes, I am!” you exclaimed, pulling away from his touch. You didn’t understand how he could even look at you, touch you, after what you had done. You didn’t even want to be in your own skin.

“Listen to me,” he ordered, voice hard. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sat silently, avoiding his eyes while you waited for him to rattle off another ridiculous excuse for your actions.

His hands squeezed your knees, urging you to look at him. His eyes were soft with not a hint of judgment, and it somehow made you feel even worse. “This life is not black and white,” he started, his tone squashing any argument. “You have to do whatever you can to stay alive, while also keeping your soul intact. That’s impossible if you think this job is a matter of good and evil, because it’s not. We work in a gray area, and it’s terrible, but we have to.” He paused for a moment, and you simply stared at him, his words sliding off of you as your agony slowly faded into numbness. 

“This pain doesn’t go away,” he admitted softly. “You don’t want it to go away, because the moment it does, he wins. The moment you don’t care who lives or dies by your hand is the moment he gains his perfect weapon. That is something I refuse to give him, and you aren’t going to give it to him either. Do you understand me?”

You just stared at him, and Azriel ran a hand through his hair. “You have to follow through with these orders when they are for the wicked faeries. It makes it easier to cover up the ones you fail to complete when your orders are truly incorrigible.”

You heard him. Really, you did, but the room was also swirling, and the couch was slowly sliding out from underneath you. You clutched Azriel’s wrist tightly, eyes wide as you met his. “I can’t breathe,” you rasped.

Azriel’s face fell. You sucked in a ragged, shallow breath, but your lungs were burning, and your mind was melting. 

“You can,” Azriel said softly, his hand coming up to squeeze your arm. He stood up, and you squeezed his wrist tighter, panic clawing at your throat.

“I’m not leaving,” he cooed, sitting next to you on the couch. His body was pressed against your, his heat radiating into you. “You’re going to match my breathing,” he said, voice much less soft, and much more reminiscent of the tone he donned during training. “Breathe in,” he said, inhaling deeply. You did your best to follow him, and then he said, “Breathe out.”

He did it again, and again, and again, until your shaking faded to small trembles, and your mind no longer felt like a bucket of mud. “Good,” he said softly. “Do you think I can see you again?”

You frowned, head snapping toward him. Then you glanced down at your hand, and noticed the faint glimmer refracting from your body. You took a few more breaths, willing your heart rate to calm enough to reach into the well of power Azriel had taught you to recognize over the last year.

Eventually the glimmer faded, and Azriel was able to meet your eyes again. His lips twitched ever so slightly, but his eyes were sad as he watched you. “I’m sorry I lost control,” you whispered.

Azriel shocked you by wrapping an arm around you, fully tucking you into his side. You hadn’t hugged him since that day in the forest so many months ago. “Do not apologize,” he ordered quietly.

You relaxed into him, eyes fluttering shut as you rested your head against his chest. “I hate this,” you rasped. “I hate him.”

“I know.” Azriel rubbed your arm. “You’re going to make it through this.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’m going to help you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure why, just like you weren’t sure why you always gravitated toward him, always trusted him implicitly after knowing for barely a year—but as always, you believed him. Your panic slowly dissolved as you truly accepted his words, accepting that he wasn’t going to chastise you or leave you to fend for yourself. Your body grew heavy in his arms, exhaustion weighing you down quickly once your adrenaline had faded.

“You’re not alone, remember?” he murmured softly, and your heart clenched as you thought back to the night he said those words to you the first time.

You slowly reached for his free hand, lacing your fingers with his. You rested your intertwined hands in his lap, the leather on his thigh brushing against your knuckles. You were always worried you might make him uncomfortable by touching his hands, this time, especially, you feared you might have taken it a step too far.

Your worries quickly vanished when he squeezed your hand softly. You clutched his hand back tightly, like you might lose yourself without his touch as your anchor. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, and whatever part of you that was left standing instantly melted into him, relishing in the soft and gentle touch that you were sure you didn’t deserve after today. Regardless, you didn’t let go, and neither did Azriel, even as you finally drifted off into sleep.

~ ~ ~

One Year Later

You hated the High Lord. You really, truly loathed the arrogant male that held your life in his hands. Nearly two years had passed since Kier had all too gladly dropped you at his feet. Since then, you had become a walking, ticking time bomb simmering with barely restrained anger. The only thing, the only person, who could keep your anger in check was Azriel.

The High Lord was far from thrilled about your blossoming friendship with Azriel, though. The two of you were lethal when he finally started pairing you together for missions. You were too powerful in the High Lord’s eyes, and you knew he wasn’t a stupid male—he was well aware of the disdain the two of you held for him, of the friendship you held with his own son, or at least Azriel’s friendship with him. It’s why he decided to split the two of you barely a few months after sending you on field missions. No more missions together, no more training with each other. You were lucky if the two of you were even in Velaris at the same time.

It was hell. Azriel had been the silver lining to this horrible and fucked up situation you had been forced into, and now even that was slipping through your fingers. You kicked your bedroom door shut harshly, the slam only momentarily satisfying your rage before your stomach started churning with anxiety again.

Azriel had been gone for nearly a month. He had told you it would be only two weeks, three at maximum, yet now you were nearing the end of the fourth. No one but you seemed to care, which was unfortunate because you didn’t even know where the hell he was. You finally worked up the courage to ask for a status report on Azriel, when you met with the High Lord for your weekly briefing, but the High Lord refused to entertain your worries. Instead, he told you not to worry your pretty little head about it.

It took every inch of your will to grit your teeth and keep your mouth shut, to wait for him to dismiss you and turn on your heel silently, walking out the door. You didn’t breathe a word to anyone as you walked the halls of the House of Wind, didn’t make a single sound until you reached the safety of your room where you could slam the door shut and simmer in your anxiety and anger alone.

You breathed heavily as you caught your reflection in the mirror across your room. Your face was flushed and there were errant strands of hair falling from your braid, evidence of the turmoil you had been stewing in all day—all week, really. You huffed as you undid it, tossing the tie on the floor as you kicked your boots off. 

You had just sat down on the edge of the bed when a knock at your door made you jump. No one ever visited your room. Even Azriel rarely came here, too worried about pissing off the High Lord and setting you in the path of his rage. You waited a minute, body thrumming with tension. 

Whoever it was knocked again, this time a bit harsher. You swallowed hard, slowly standing up and moving silently toward the door. You could hear muffled whispers on the other side, and your heart was pounding until a familiar tendril of shadow snaked beneath the door, twirling around your ankle.

You instantly flung the door open, prepared to yank Azriel into your room and smother him with questions about where the hell he had been. Instead you were met by Rhysand, who was standing there sheepishly with Azriel leaning heavily on his shoulder.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Rhys grunted as he adjusted Azriel’s weight. “Mind if we come in?”

You automatically moved to the side to let them through, quickly closing the door shut behind them. “What the hell happened to him?” you asked, following behind Rhys as he guided Azriel onto your bed. Azriel flopped onto his back, his wings splaying out behind him.

“What happened to him?” Rhys rolled his eyes. “He drank a tavern dry.”

“Why?”

Rhys glanced at you warily. “Spending time in Illyria is never easy for him.”

Your heart sank. “He said he was on a mission.”

Rhys nodded. “He was—in Illyria—but it didn’t go well.”

You glanced at Azriel, whose arm was thrown over his eyes as his shadows flitted around him haphazardly.

Rhys looked at you, face more serious. “I need you to take care of him tonight. Don’t let anyone know he’s here. I have to go clean up his mess.”

“What did he do?”

“Before or after he promised to burn the entire camp to the ground?”

You winced.

“Exactly,” Rhys sighed. “He’ll be fine by morning. He can deal with his shit then. Just, tonight—” He glanced at the male sprawled on top of your bed. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” you promised softly, heart aching.

“Thank you,” Rhys breathed, shoulders relaxing. He squeezed your shoulder as he turned around, and then let himself out of your room, shutting the door softly behind him.

You sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of Azriel’s chest. There wasn’t a scratch on him—not physically, at least. In the two years you had known him, he had told you very little about his life in Illyria, but it was enough to know it was the last place he ever wanted to be. Your anger toward the High Lord flared again, but you quickly smothered it to focus on taking care of your friend, who was always taking care of you. 

You moved closer, shaking his leg by the toe of his boot. “Az.”

His eyes slowly fluttered open, his arm sliding off his forehead. He blinked a few times before his eyes finally focused on you, at least somewhat, and a wide goofy grin spread across his face. You’d find it comical if you didn’t know what transpired for him to reach this state of inebriation.

You tugged at his foot. “You’re hogging the bed, and you're not sleeping in these dirty leathers.”

“If you wanted me to undress all you had to do is ask,” he slurred, smiling cheekily.

Your cheeks burned, and your stomach flipped under the gaze of his hooded eyes. You grabbed Azriel by his hands, his fingers instantly wrapping around yours, and you pulled him up so he was sitting on the edge of your bed. “Take off your leathers,” you directed him, ignoring his comment. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared into your ensuite to wet a cloth with water and to gather your thoughts. There was still so much you didn’t know about Azriel, so much he kept locked up deep inside him. It was only months ago that he had finally told you what happened to his hands. It was just last month, right before he left for this mission, that he told you why his shadows came to him.

You didn’t mind, though. You had learned long ago that Azriel sharing anything about himself was a feat in and of itself, and you were just happy that he felt comfortable enough sharing what he had with you. Honestly, it filled you with pride that Rhys trusted you enough to drop a very intoxicated Azriel into your arms, and believed that you would take care of him—that Azriel would want you to take care of him.

You walked back into your bedroom, cloth in hand, but you faltered when you saw Azriel sitting on the floor, stripped down to his underwear. You might have known the male for years now, worked side-by-side with him, but you had never truly seen this much of him. Hell you had only seen him shirtless a handful of times. He might have been your closest friend, but Mother above, he was gorgeous. 

You weren’t blind—you had always known Azriel was beautiful. You had always been hyper aware of the attention he garnered anytime you ventured into a town or city together, and you always had to squash the irritation that simmered in your veins because of it. Seeing Azriel like this, though? Somehow it ripped a hole in your heart and filled it back up with just him. His beauty, his kindness, his loyalty, his heartache. All of it flooded you as you watched him sit against your bed with his head hung between his knees and his wings drooping on the floor.

You took a deep breath, shoving aside your very inappropriate thoughts and feelings to kneel beside the downtrodden shadowsinger on your floor. You didn't have time to ponder your growing attachment to this male, the care you had for him that felt almost suffocating. You rested a hand on his arm, prompting him to slowly look up at you. He smiled lazily, his eyes glossy. “Hi,” he murmured.

You smiled weakly, heart pounding and aching. “Hi.” You held up the cloth. “I’m going to wipe your face off.”

He simply nodded, closing his eyes as you dragged the warm cloth across his face. You had just started wiping at his neck when he mumbled, “Rhys is angry at me.”

You wiped a little harder at a dark smudge of dirt on his collarbone. “No he’s not.”

Azriel nodded. “He is,” he slurred slightly. “I fucked up.”

“He’s not angry, Az,” you said gently, pulling the cloth away. “He’s just worried.”

“Are you angry with me?”

Your heart cracked even more. “No,” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his forearm, skimming the edges of his scars. “Of course I’m not angry with you.”

He sat silently for a while, letting you do as you pleased to clean him up. Eventually you sat the cloth on the floor, not really caring if it made the rug wet. You stood up, pulling Azriel with you, albeit with some resistance. “It’s time for bed.”

He followed your guidance, although not easily, stumbling here and there, until you finally had him under the covers with his wings hanging off a bit on the edge. You moved toward your dresser and quickly stripped yourself of your own leathers to throw a sleep shirt on. You let out a long breath, then turned around to head toward the bed, stopping short when you saw Azriel watching you with hooded eyes. You flushed instantly.

He turned his head away sheepishly, looking more boyish than you had ever seen him. “I’m sorry.”

Your mouth was dry as you said, “It’s okay.” You fumbled a bit as you moved toward the bed, sliding under the covers on the opposite side of Azriel. “I could have gone in the washroom if I was worried about you catching an eyeful,” you tried to tease, a half-hearted attempt to lift the mood of tonight. 

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Az.” You smiled softly, even though your cheeks were still warm. “It’s just you. I know I’m safe with you—you never make me uncomfortable.”

“You’re always safe with me,” he mumbled. As if in emphasis, his shadows brushed against your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You laid your head on the pillow next to his, facing him. You took in the slopes of cheekbones and the long dark lashes that fanned his face every time he blinked, each blink a little longer than the last.

You had thought he was almost asleep when he said quietly, “I hate what I am.”

Your chest felt tight. “What do you mean?” you asked, voice wavering.

“My Illyrian blood.”

Your heart fully shattered then. “I don’t,” you whispered.

He dragged his eyes slowly to meet yours, disbelief clear behind the intoxication still clouding his eyes.

“It’s part of you,” you explained softly, honestly. “I could never hate any part of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached for you, pulling you into his chest by your hip. You didn’t breathe at first. His arm was wrapped tight around you, and your face was pressed against his bare chest as he practically nuzzled his face against your neck. His breathing quickly evened out, your words hanging heavy in the air.

Azriel rarely initiated any form of physical affection, and you didn’t want to spook him, even if you doubted that anything could really disturb him right now. Eventually, you made yourself relax, to enjoy this unexpected display of affection from Azriel. You knew it was only because he was drunk, and hurting, but you would walk through fire for him after everything he had given you. If he needed someone to hold for a night, you would gladly be that person for him.

~ ~ ~

Three Months Later

“Y/N.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Azriel, not stopping your stride toward the training room.

“Have you decided to finally join me again for training?” you asked, making a turn down the hallway.

Azriel’s steps quickened, the click of his boots on the stone meshing with your own. “Y/N–”

You rolled your eyes. “I know, I know. The High Lord is always watching.”

“The High Lord is dead.”

You instantly froze. Azriel’s steps fell silent, and you turned around slowly to face him. Your heart was racing as you took in the male in front of you, looking more ragged than you had seen him in months. Since Rhys dropped him in your bedroom a few months ago, probably.

“What did you say?” you asked, voice shaky.

His throat bobbed, his eyes seeming conflicted. “He’s dead,” he repeated softly. 

Panic started clawing up your throat. Oh gods. What did this mean for you? Did you go back to Kier? Was there someone new that held the reins to your life? How did this work?

Azriel’s face softened slightly, and he stepped closer to you. “Rhys is High Lord now.”

Your whirlwind of thoughts came to a sudden halt. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. “Does that mean–”

“We now serve Rhys,” he finished softly.

Relief like you had never experienced washed over you. Rhys. Rhys would be your High Lord. 

“Where is he?” you asked breathlessly.

Azriel’s eyes shuttered, his features hardening. “With Cassian,” he said, voice desolate. “His mother and sister were also killed.”

Your heart dropped. “No,” you breathed. Your chest ached as you slowly understood why Azriel looked like hell as he delivered this news. He didn’t mourn the High Lord. No, he mourned for the females that were like his own mother and sister. 

Azriel looked away, his jaw clenched as tight as his fists at his side. His shadows pulsed restlessly around him, and you didn’t let yourself think twice before stepping forward and pulling him down into your arms.

His arms slowly circled your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. You squeezed a bit tighter, bringing one hand up to thread through the hair on the back of his head. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. 

Azriel sniffed, squeezing you for a moment before pulling back. His face was covered by his usual stoic mask that he wore around everyone else, but you could see the grief seeping through the cracks.

“You’re going to have a decision to make,” he told you, voice rough.

You watched him silently, giving him another second to gather himself.

“Rhys is going to ask you if you want to stay and work for him.”

The words clanged through you, your mind struggling to process them. “He’s giving me a choice?”

Azriel’s face softened. “Of course he is.”

You shook your head slowly, licking your lips. “But—what about Kier?”

“Kier can go fuck himself,” Azriel grumbled. Then more seriously, “He’s not a problem. Rhys won’t let him do anything to you. You’re free.”

Free. Free to make your own choices, to choose the course of your own life. Why did your heart ache at the thought of leaving this place then?

“But Rhys,” you started slowly, “He wants me to work for him?”

“Of course he wants you to, but he would never make you.”

Azriel stood there quietly, watching you as you mulled over all of this information, over the warring emotions inside you. “Am I crazy if I decide to stay?” you rasped. “Does that mean Kier won?”

“No,” Azriel said immediately. “If you choose to stay, it’s because you want to serve your court, and the High Lord that now presides over it. You want to defend what he stands for.” His eyes were glossy in the faelight as he looked at you. “That was never the case before.”

Your eyes roamed over Azriel, noting the slight droop to his wings and the shadows that were slowly inching closer and closer to your feet. The idea of serving Rhys filled you with a new hope, and part of you wanted to stay to defend that newborn optimism. A larger part of you knew that you would stay, though, because you could never leave this male standing in front of you. The years you had spent together might just be a blip among the years he had lived, but they meant everything to you, and you would be damned if you walked away now.

You nodded a bit, then met his eyes. “I think I’d like to stay.”

~ ~ ~

One Month Later

“I didn’t think one of my first tasks as a member of the new High Lord’s court would have me stuck inside of this godsdamned mountain again,” you grumbled under your breath.

Azriel stepped closer, his chest brushing against your shoulder. A wave of goosebumps washed over you as he murmured, “None of us wanted this. Trust me.”

“He’s right,” Rhys purred in your mind, sending a much less pleasurable shiver up your spine. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to that. “But I am sorry. Although, I would have hated for you to miss Kier silently simmering in his rage all night.”

You fought the smile that pulled at your lips, trying to maintain the stony facade you were asked to wear for tonight. The new High Lord’s ball in honor of his denizens in the Court of Nightmares. A display of his generosity and benevolence. A reminder of what they had to lose should they fail to be subservient to him as they were to his father.

Admittedly, this was more enjoyable than the last time you had to stand in front of all these fae, after being freshly tossed to the High Lord like a shiny new toy. Last time, you and Azriel stood off to the side, clearly nothing more than the guard dogs for the High Lord. Now, you all flanked Rhysand around his throne, your respected positions in his court made clear. Cassian and Mor stood on the other side of him, watching the revelry with bored expressions.

It was a dynamic you were still struggling to adapt to. You had never had friends, never had a family who loved you, who would fight for you. You weren’t delusional enough to think you were held in the same regard as everyone else in Rhys’s circle, but you were pretty certain they would all fight for you, defend you, if you ever needed them to. Mor was your cousin, after all, and you had bonded over your mutual disdain for her wretched father. Another silverlining to Kier’s wicked schemes.

Despite all of that, it didn’t stop your heart from falling to your feet when you saw your parents pushing through the crowd, having the gall to approach you while you stood at the High Lord’s side. Azriel pressed a gentle hand to your back, his shadows shrouding the movement from the rest of the room. “What is it?” he asked softly. Rhys glanced at the two of you briefly, but didn’t say anything when his eyes caught on the two fae shoving aside others as they made their path.

You spun around to fully face Azriel, eyes wild and uncaring of what anyone else thought at that very moment. “Dance with me?” you pleaded, voice desperate.

Azriel’s lips parted, his brow furrowed as he stared down at you. He glanced at Rhys, who was busy watching your parents grow closer and closer, about to make a fool of themselves and of you.

“Please?” you begged.

He bit his lip, another beat of hesitation passing before he grabbed your hand, and pulled you out into the messy throng of dancing faeries. You didn’t miss the glares and snide comments directed at you as you joined them, and neither did Azriel from the clench of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. You squeezed his hand, eyes begging him to do this for you. His eyes softened as they landed back on you, and he tugged you close to him as the song shifted into a more ominous ballroom dance. The classiest music the Court of Nightmares could play at their balls.

His one hand held yours close to his chest, while the other held you by your waist. Your other hand fell to rest on his leather clad chest, his siphons glowing dimly in front of you. “I don’t actually know how to dance,” you murmured.

Azriel’s finger flexed on your waist, snaking around further to rest low on your back. Lightning skittered up your back as he cast a glare at someone behind you, before meeting your gaze. “I’ve got you.”

You had no idea how Azriel knew how to dance so well. It was like he was one with the music, his steps moving effortlessly as he pulled you along with him. He was so elegant, and lethal, and gorgeous. You hated the females that were eyeing him curiously, ravenously, from the sides of the room, some of them wretched ones you had the pleasure of growing up with. Your eyes met those of your parents, standing off to the side after thwarting their ambush, their eyes glowing with ire. You swallowed hard, anxiety bubbling in your stomach, wondering how long you could dance, how long you could actually avoid them. There was nothing stopping them from coming over here, and just ripping you out of Azriel’s arms.

“Look at me,” Azriel murmured low in your ear. You dragged your eyes back to him, and your cheeks warmed when you realized how clammy your hand was in his. He squeezed your hand, pulling you somehow even closer into his body. The music was picking up, morphing into a faster tempo, and Azriel didn’t falter as he spun you around the floor. “Keep your eyes on me.”

“I don’t want to talk to them,” you mumbled.

“Then you won’t,” he said, voice firm. Clearly he had pieced together your sudden panic. “We’re dancing. No one is going to interrupt us.”

You swallowed hard, hoping he was right. “And if they do,” he murmured in your ear, voice dark with a promise, “I will personally deal with them.”

That, you believed. “So focus on me. Only me,” he said, warm breath fanning the shell of your ear.

Your heart was racing for an entirely new reason, your skin flushed with something much more pleasant than anger. You were suddenly grateful for the dress Rhys had gifted you tonight, his polite way of asking you to wear something other than your leathers. The silky, cobalt blue fabric clung to your body perfectly, the plunging back providing no barrier between your skin and Azriel’s warm fingers.

“Thank you,” you said under your breath, eyes locked on his.

“As if I need thanks for dancing with a beautiful female,” he murmured back, eyes warm, the hazel of his irises near glowing.

You looked away, your entire body burning from his words. You let him guide you through the rest of the song, and then the next, and the next, until you were clinging to each other’s bodies in the sea of revelry. You didn’t think the rest of the faeries had necessarily forgotten about the two of you, but they were certainly too drunk to stop their dancing. Both of Azriel's hands were now low on your back, your chest pressed flush to his as another song ended, and you stopped abruptly with the music. Your chests were heaving, and even Azriel’s face was flushed as he looked down at you, his breath gently ghosting across your face, your lips only inches from his.

“It’s time to go,” Rhys murmured in your head, amusement clear in his voice. The two of you abruptly broke apart, but Azriel’s hand reached for yours before you could get too far, his grip strong as he walked you back up to the throne, in front of Kier and your parents. You stood side by side, hand in hand next to Rhys, neither of you dropping the hold on the other as Rhys bid his farewell. You gave one last parting glance to your seething parents, pride and love blooming in your chest.

~ ~ ~

One Month Later

“You can sing?”

Azriel spun around from where he was patching a training bag, sand leaking slowly from the seam he resplit in his shock. You couldn’t stop the light laugh that fell from your lips, his eyes comically wide as he turned back around to try to hold the sand in the bag, it instead falling through his fingers.

You walked over to help him, your hands pushing his own out of the way to hold the fabric together, and he smoothed an adhesive patch over the split. “I think this bag needs to be retired,” you hummed, a smile still on your lips.

Azriel’s face was red, redder than you had ever seen it, and it was adorable. It made your heart flutter and your stomach spin, and you wished you could capture this moment forever. Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably, yeah.”

“It’s not like Rhys can’t afford it.”

“I know,” he said, dropping his hand. “But between Cassian and I, we go through them like water. Neither of us are used to…” he trailed off, eyeing the fragile leather bag.

“To luxury,” you finished, understanding the feeling well. 

He glanced at you, nodding. “Yeah.”

You chewed on your lip, contemplating letting your initial question go, but your curiosity was eating at you. “So,” you drawled out slowly, and Azriel looked at you apprehensively. You smiled innocently, your eyes crinkling slightly. “You sing?”

“No,” was Azriel’s short response. He made a step toward the rack of wooden training swords against the wall, but you quickly grabbed for his wrist.

“Come on,” you laughed, pulling him back to you. “How come you never told me?”

“Because of this,” he grumbled, gesturing to you with his free hand.

You pouted a bit, but your grin overpowered it. “I can’t believe I didn’t guess it, really. I mean you are called a Shadowsinger.” You gasped, eyes going wide. “That’s probably why you’re such a good dancer too!”

Azriel rolled his eyes, shrugging out of your grasp. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you with impatience. “Are you done?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied. You threw your hands out to your side, exclaiming, “I can’t believe I’ve known you for years and not once have I heard you so much as hum. Then I find you fully singing while repairing training equipment? I feel betrayed.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Azriel grumbled.

You lightly pushed at his chest, growing a bit more serious. “Your voice is beautiful, Az.”

His face flushed red again, his ears even turning pink. “I didn’t know you were here,” he mumbled bashfully, glaring at his shadows that were hiding in his wings. 

A part of you brimmed with glee at the thought that his shadows didn’t feel the need to warn him of your presence. They definitely knew you were standing there listening to him, after all a few of them had slithered over to greet you. “Do you like singing?” you asked softly, any teasing gone.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, messing up the dark strands. “Yes,” he sighed.

You pondered for a moment about why this was so difficult for him to talk about, why he was so reluctant to share this with you beyond simple embarrassment. “Did you sing as a child?” you asked, voice gentle.

His eyes met yours, a brief beat of sadness and strife passing through them. “Yes,” he answered softly.

You bit your lip, then picked up his hand again. You looked at the scars that littered his skin, stomach turning sour just thinking about what he went through as a boy. You lace your fingers with his, squeezing gently. “No wonder your shadows were drawn to you, then. With a voice like that.”

Azriel didn’t say anything at first, but his face was soft and his cheeks were still tinged pink, as he looked down at your hands laced together. “Thank you,” he finally whispered.

You smiled softly, then in an attempt to lift the mood again after pushing at such a tender spot for him, you asked, “Does this mean you’ll sing for me then?”

Azriel laughed, dropping your hand to push at your shoulder, and you grinned sheepishly. “I mean, if I’m invisible, and your shadows are now my minions, you’ll never even know if I’m here.”

Azriel was still laughing as he shook his head and pointed toward the door. “Get out of here.”

~ ~ ~

Two Months Later

You wished you knew what the hell Devlon was thinking when he recommended this camp to network with. These males were abhorrent, and you were certain that if you didn’t have Azriel and Cassian flanking your sides, their wings flared and siphons glowing, they would have shown you just how dreadful they were. You kept your gaze zeroed in on the sneering camp lord, who was acting as if bringing a female as a representative of his High Lord was sacrilege.

“Where is Rhysand?” Lord Bristol asked dryly, his question clearly directed toward the males at your side. You swallowed your anger, forcing yourself to stay calm while Cassian chirped back and forth with the camp lord and his general.

“Your High Lord sends his regards,” Cassian replied curtly. “You get us,” he added with a grin.

The general’s eyes flashed with hatred, so potent it made you tense. “Two bastards and a female,” he spat. “Does Rhysand mean to insult us?”

“Two Carynthian bastards,” Cassian corrected, his grin turning lupine. “And the High Lord’s personal spy. She’s a lethal one. I’d be careful what you say about her.”

You let your eyes turn wicked as you eyed the males, your lips just barely tipping into a faintly amused smile. Azriel had not said a word, his fist clenched tight around truth teller at his side. 

The general scoffed, practically spitting at your feet. “The High Lord’s personal whore, more likely.”

Azriel shifted, and you could feel the undiluted rage coming off of him in waves. You grabbed his wrist, squeezing tightly. “Don’t, Az,” you murmured.

Azriel stayed put, but his rage continued to boil. You hoped Cassian could get you through this quickly.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Cassian growled. He stared at the general for a beat before diverting his attention back to Lord Bristol. “Now, if we could get on with this—”

“I heard your mother disappeared from her camp,” the general sneered, clearly speaking to Azriel. You and Cassian both went still. “Did she get knocked up again? Find another wealthy lord to leech off of? Or maybe she finally got what was coming—”

One second you were standing next to Azriel, and the next you were thrown on your ass before a flash of power erupted from the very male you had stood beside. Blinding blue light speared for the general, sending him flying across the snow covered clearing and directly into a towering pine tree at the forest line. A forest line that was at least a hundred yards away from where you stood.

Azriel was gone before you could even stand, Cassian helping you to your feet as he watched the general hit the tree and crumple to the ground. Azriel appeared in front of him, his wings flared as he landed hard, a plume of snow surrounding the two of them. You watched him pick up the male like he weighed nothing, ramming him into the tree again, more snow falling down around them.

“He’s going to kill him,” you breathed.

Cassian cursed, glancing at an agape Lord Bristol who was most definitely not going to be Rhysand’s newest Illyrian ally. “Stay here,” he murmured, launching into the sky and bolting toward his brother, who was now pummeling his fist against the limp male in the snow.

“Like hell,” you grumbled, winnowing directly into the shitshow.

Snow was still falling down around you from the trees that were shaking from the force of Azriel’s power. The general was still alive, but he was barely conscious, yet he still wore a sickening smirk that made you want to rip him from Azriel and deliver a few of your own punches.

You could hear Cassian’s wings beating as he neared, but you directed your focus on Azriel, who had not even noticed your arrival.

“Az,” you said, inching closer, carefully avoiding his flying elbows and outstretched wings.

He didn’t even falter, and as you circled around his wings to stand at his side, you saw nothing but ice cold rage in his normally honey warm irises. Fear shot down your spine, but it wasn’t of him, it was for him. You could see Lord Bristol and other Illyrians from the camp taking to the skies, and you knew you had seconds before shit really went south. 

“Azriel!” you yelled, and for a fraction of a second you saw him hesitate, but it didn’t stop him from landing his next punch.

Cassian landed hard a few feet away from you, snow blowing up into the air as his siphons glowed red. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, and you glanced at the sky of Illryians again before turning back to Azriel. Deciding you didn’t have time to hope he heard you, you grabbed his arm with both your hands, yanking him back from the male beneath him. “Azriel!” you yelled again, panic clear in your voice.

He stopped, only fighting you for a second before his eyes cleared, and he finally turned to look at you. Your chest was heaving as you held his arm, heart racing. You met Cassian’s eyes again, him giving you only a brief nod before you said to Azriel, “We’re leaving.”

You winnowed the two of you far, far away from any Illryian camps, somewhere in a forest near the border of Velaris. The two of you landed hard in the snow, both of you unsteady from your previous positions. You fell on your ass, again, dropping Azriel’s arm as he fell forward onto his hands and knees.

You let out a huff as you stood back up, brushing off the snow from your pants and counting down the seconds until you could take a scalding hot bath and put on dry clothes. Azriel slowly pushed himself up so he was kneeling in the snow, his chest heaving with heavy breaths before he finally rose to his feet. 

You watched him warily, unsure how to handle this. You had seen Azriel angry before, you had seen him ruthless and watched him take out targets like they were nothing more than bugs beneath his feet. You had never seen him like this before, though. You had never seen him with such unbridled rage that he lost all regard for his surroundings.

He kept his head down, eyes glued to the snow. He slowly lifted his hands, examining the bloodstained skin, and you realized he was shaking. Your heart fell as you watched his whole body tremble, as he refused to acknowledge you standing right in front of him. “Azriel,” you murmured, taking a step closer to him.

“Don’t,” he muttered, voice icy.

You stopped. He was still shaking, still staring at his hands, and his shadows were restless as they pulsed around him, some of them making jagged movements up and down the slopes of his wings. “Azriel,” you said again, voice even softer. You swallowed hard, uneasiness sluicing through you. “Let me see your hands.”

Those words made his eyes snap up to you. You didn’t move any closer. You just stood there, eyes begging him to let you in. His eyes were cold as he looked at you, his expression hard as he stood unmoving in front of you. You pulled a handkerchief from your back pocket, and then kneeled down to wet it with the snow. Your hands screamed at the cold bite of winter, your gloves long soaked through, but you didn’t care.

You stood back up, the cloth dangling in your hand as Azriel watched your every move. You took another slow and hesitant step toward him, and this time he stayed quiet. You stopped when you were directly in front of him, holding up the snow-soaked cloth. “Let me see them?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away, but he gave you the smallest nod that had you immediately reaching for his hand. Blood was splattered up both of his wrists, dotting his siphons, but you did the best you could to wipe the evidence of the last half hour from his skin. 

His hands were still shaking when you were done, so you dropped the cloth to the ground, and wrapped both of his hands in yours. He immediately tensed, his disbelieving gaze falling back on you.

You gave him a small, hopefully comforting smile, but his face only hardened further and he yanked his hands from you. You ignored the burn you felt in your chest from him pulling away, focusing on Azriel.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

You blinked. “I’m helping you,” you answered softly, hoping he would calm down.

“Why?” he asked, voice cracking. His eyes turned glossy as he stared at you, his face crumpling bit by bit, your heart cracking alongside it. “Why would you help me after what you just saw?”

“Azriel,” you breathed out. He was shaking, and you watched in disbelief as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Azriel, come here.”

You pulled him down toward you, his head falling onto your shoulder as your arms circled around his neck. One of your hands rested on the back of his head, and his arms slowly circled around your waist, his hands grasping at your leathers. He was hunched over, his weight leaning heavily on you as he shook, whether with sobs or lingering rage and adrenaline, you weren’t sure. It was most likely both.

You rubbed at his scalp, holding him tight as he cried. “It’s okay,” you murmured softly. “You’re okay.”

It took a few minutes before Azriel was settled enough to speak again, and even then it was just a broken and muffled, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“I never wanted you to see me like that,” he whispered.

You pulled back slightly, one hand sliding around to cup his cheeks, his bloodshot eyes framed by wet lashes looking at you completely defeated. He was disgusted with himself, and it broke you. “You’re my friend,” you said, voice clear despite your own tears that had started to fall. “I care about you, and I want you to let me in. I want to know every part of you. There’s no part of you that could ever scare me away or disgust me, because it’s you.”

He stared at you in silence, clearly struggling to accept your words.

“There was not one second today where I was scared of you,” you told him. “You do not scare me, Azriel.”

His hand reached up to wrap around the one you had pressed to his cheek, gently pulling it away. You didn’t let him drop your hand, though, squeezing his fingers tight when he tried to let go. “Listen to me,” you begged. “You are a good male, living in a world that has not been kind to you. You are allowed to get angry. You’re allowed to be upset, and you’re allowed to share that with the people who love you.”

Azriel scanned you up and down, his hand still clutched tightly in yours. “And what if I said you’re just naive?” he muttered, eyes cold but filled with pain.

“Then I would tell you to go fuck yourself,” you snapped, tugging at his hand. Azriel flinched, guilt seeping into his eyes. “And I would tell you that I’m not going to let you push me away,” you added, voice softer.

“You’re stuck with me,” you told him, a hesitant smile pulling at your lips before falling serious again. “I mean it, Az.”

He looked down at your hands linked together, his throat bobbing slightly. He slowly dragged his eyes back up to meet yours, his irises shining with fear and guilt and pain, but beyond that sat something that knocked the breath clean out of you. You didn’t have the words to describe it right then, but you knew it mirrored what you held deep in your own heart.

Azriel’s face melted, his guard completely falling before your very eyes, and your shoulders fell with relief. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you again, his wings folding around the two of you. Your heart was racing, and you didn’t know what the hell to think, but you knew that you weren’t letting go of this male anytime soon. You would stay in his arms forever if he let you.

~ ~ ~

One Month Later

“I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“Go shopping?” Azriel asked dryly, his eyebrows slightly raised.

You shoved his shoulder. “No,” you grumbled, then gestured toward all the different stalls lining the street, wreaths and bows and lights everywhere you looked. “Celebrate Solstice.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he pulled you back by your hand when you kept walking. “What do you mean?”

Your cheeks warmed, feeling a bit ridiculous now that you’ve said it. You avoided his eyes, looking at the different faeries walking around the two of you. “I’ve never celebrated it,” you answered, shrugging slightly. “I mean, sure, there were ‘celebrations’ fit for the Court of Nightmares, but I never had any friends or family to buy gifts for or to just spend time with on Solstice.”

A male with his arms full bumped into you, muttering a quick apology as he maneuvered through the street. Azriel tucked you under his arm, his heat offering a solace from the cold you didn’t know you needed. He started walking the two of you slowly down the cobblestones again, the two of you making footprints in the light layer of snow coating the stones.

“I wish I had known that,” he said quietly.

You shook your head, pausing in front of a booth with an assortment of jewelry. Azriel didn’t move his arm, and only leaned down with you when you picked up a necklace, the pendant a small sapphire twined with silver. You laid the necklace back down gently, feeling out of place even thinking about wearing jewelry. You had worn the jewels Rhys gave a few months ago to accompany your outfit for the Court of Nightmares, and they had sat untouched since—not because you didn’t love them, but because you were still struggling to adapt to this new lifestyle. You knew Rhys would never, but it was hard to believe that this new reality wasn’t about to be yanked out from underneath you.

“Do you like that?” Azriel asked quietly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.

Goosebumps shot across your skin, and you swallowed hard before answering him. “It’s pretty,” you hummed, and then guided him toward the next booth before he could pester you about buying it. “And there was no reason for you to know that.”

“We could have celebrated,” he said softly. “Actually, why didn’t we?”

You glanced at him, then turned to smile at the female selling hand knitted sweaters. “You were away on a mission.”

“Oh.”

You reached up to lace your fingers with his hand that hung over your shoulder, smiling softly at him. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. You couldn’t have done anything.”

Azriel tightened his fingers around yours, then folded his wing around you when a harsher gust of wind blew by. The gesture made your stomach flip, knowing the delicate membrane of his wing was brushing against your shoulder, even if it was covered by your coat—that he was using his wings to protect you. The trust behind the display was not lost on you. You leaned further into his side in gratitude. 

“I’m excited for Solstice,” he admitted, and a small grin broke out on your face.

You laughed lightly. “I know you are.”

He glanced at you in surprise, and you shrugged. “You’re not as cold and mysterious as you like to think.” You smiled at him, poking his side covered in a soft sweater instead of his usual leathers. You selfishly loved seeing him like this, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold, snowflakes dotting his dark hair, and his clothes warm and soft instead of thick and tough. “You’re actually a bit of a softie.”

Azriel laughed, his head tilting back a bit. “You’re ridiculous.” The two of you kept walking along the street, stopping to look at different vendors here and there. Eventually, Azriel said, “We celebrated Solstice as boys. Growing up in Illyria…Rhys’s mother did what she could for us, and we loved it, but it’s been decades since we’ve spent it together. Now we have Mor, and you, and I just—” A small smile stretched across his face. “I’m just grateful, and excited.”

You smiled too, then said, “Don’t forget Amren.”

Azriel grimaced. “And Amren.”

“Does she scare you too?”

Azriel glanced at you. “Of course not.”

“Liar.”

~ ~ ~

Two Days Later

“I still can’t believe Rhys bought this place.”

“I can’t believe we were delegated to decorating,” Azriel grumbled, dropping his armful of garland on the floor.

“Don’t complain.” You tossed a bow at him, it smacking him in the chest before joining the greenery on the floor. “I think it’s fun.”

“Cassian and Mor are out drinking and dancing.”

You raised a brow. “Did you want to go drinking and dancing?”

“No,” he grumbled. “It’s just the principle of it.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from your spot on the floor next to the fire. You walked to the kitchen, leaving Azriel grumbling over the holly and ribbons, and picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses. You reappeared in the living room, glasses extended toward Azriel. “Who said we can’t still drink?” you asked.

Azriel grinned, taking the glasses and the bottle from you. He poured you both generous glasses, handing one to you before clinking them together. “Happy Solstice,” he murmured, then took a sip of the red wine.

You took a sip of yours, smiling softly. “Happy Solstice.” You sat the glass on the coffee table, then looked back at him. “Now help me hang this garland.”

He did as you said, following your directions for every strand of pine and holly, every bow and wreath, every ball of faelight, even when you were both on your third glass of wine and you weren’t entirely sure that they would all actually be straight tomorrow morning. 

Azriel chuckled from behind you as you struggled to pin a strand of garland over the entryway to the living room. Your stool wasn’t tall enough to reach the top, even as you stood on wobbly toes. Azriel’s hands braced your waist, picking you up easily to lift you high enough to pin the garland. Your cheeks were flushed when he sat you down, your stomach a mess of butterflies. 

“Thanks,” you murmured.

Azriel grinned. “You’re welcome.” He reached for your hair, pulling at the strands delicately. “You’re covered in needles,” he laughed.

You covered your face, groaning into your palms, “Oh gods. No more wine and decorating.”

Azriel pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes bright as they stared down into yours. “The decorations look beautiful.” He pulled another pine needle from your hair, dropping it on the floor, then brushed an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “And so do you,” he murmured softly, eyes going darker.

Something tightened in your chest, in your core, your whole body tingling from his attention and compliments. He was the beautiful one. His dark hair was tousled and his eyes nearly glowed as he beheld you, staring at you so reverently you didn’t know whether to run and hide or…

His palm cupped your cheek, his calloused skin warm and comforting against your own. He slowly walked you backward, taking one slow step after the other as your eyes stayed glued to his, anticipation building in your chest. Your back eventually met the stairway banister, the wood at your back making you suck in a breath.

“Azriel,” you breathed out, heart pounding.

“Please,” he begged, the word soft and desperate. He lowered his face closer to yours, his lips barely an inch away from yours. “Please, let me do this.”

You didn’t let him hesitate a second longer, instead closing the distance between you two to press your lips to his. Azriel went lax against you, his whole body practically melting into yours. You tugged at the front of his sweater, desperate to have him closer, to feel him on you. His hands gripped your waist, squeezing and tugging at you feverishly, as if he needed you just the same. 

His lips were so soft, and so warm, and you never knew it could feel like this. You had never let yourself dream that you could ever have this. Your fleeting thoughts about a life with Azriel had always seemed so childish, so hopeless, in the face of all you had seen. You had never been treated with kindness, like someone worthy of respect—how could you ever be loved or wanted by a male like Azriel?

Somewhere deep down, though, you knew things had shifted between you. When Rhys became High Lord, walls fell down between you. Anxieties were dimmed, and you clung to each other as you waded through the aftermath, as you stepped into this new life together. You had always wanted him, really, in any way he would give you. You had loved him nearly as long, you just didn’t think he could ever return those feelings—not until recently. Not until now, as he kissed you like you were his oxygen, his very lifeline to this world, and he had no plans of letting you go.

You parted from his lips, breathing heavy as you met his eyes, his pupils blown with lust and hair far more disheveled than it was moments ago. “Azriel—” You swallowed hard, nerves blooming in your stomach as your mind caught up to where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. 

Azriel pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Don’t get in your head,” he murmured. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop—but don’t worry about anything else.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. You breathed in shakily. “It’s just me and you.”

His words immediately settled you, grounding you to this moment, here, with him. “Azriel,” you murmured again, you hand lifting his face from your neck. His eyes met yours, wide and waiting. “Take me upstairs,” you whispered.

His face lit up, and you laughed when he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before picking you up, your legs falling easily around his waist. You were so warm in his arms as he carried you up the stairs, stealing kisses along the way as your hands tangled in his hair again.

He walked through an open door, kicking it shut behind you before dropping you on an oversized bed. You pushed yourself back to the center, watching Azriel crawl onto the bed too, slowly following your movements until he was hovering directly over you. He brought a hand up to your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, as he gazed at you with pure adoration.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you do,” he murmured. “You make me feel safe. Just the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand—you give me a reprieve from the world. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Your heart was soaring. “I’ve never trusted anyone,” you whispered, staring at him with glossy eyes. “I never knew I could trust someone—until I met you.” You lifted your own hand to his cheek, cradling him close. “I may hate Kier for everything he did to me and Mor—but I wouldn’t change anything. Everything he did, everything I went through—it brought me to you.”

Azriel licked his lips before pressing them to yours again, his kiss sweet and gentle and reverent. Every tender emotion the two of you held in your hearts, handed to each other on a silver platter, trusting that the other wouldn’t drop it. His kisses slowly grew more desperate, more feverish, with you feeding into the shift in energy, needing him so deeply you couldn’t think past wanting this male in every way.

He slowly lifted your sweater up and over your head, breaking your kiss for the briefest of seconds. You pushed him away though, pulling at the hem of his own sweater. He quickly yanked it over his head, tossing it on the floor, with his pants swiftly following. He was simply ethereal, kneeling before you in the dim faelight, with streaks of moonlight seeping in through the curtain. He crawled back over you, smiling softly as your gaze lingered on his body.

“You’re gorgeous,” you murmured, trailing your fingers over the slopes of his chest, across the ink that trailed over his shoulder and down his arm, until it blended into the scars that littered his forearms and hands.

Azriel’s face was flushed pink as he watched you touch him, admire him, and you smiled at him when you noticed. His smile back was bashful, and he hid his face by leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he breathed against you, his words followed by a harsh press against your collarbone. It was your turn to flush.

He pulled at the waistband of your pants before sliding them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. His eyes were so dark as he drank you in, his shadows finally reaching out to trace the slopes and curves of your body. Their featherlight touch made you shiver, your skin pebbling in their wake. 

Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of your breast, then unclasped the constricting fabric that still hid you from him. “Do they bother you?” he asked, glancing at the shadows pulsing around the two of you.

“No,” you breathed, mind a bit addled. “Never.”

“Good,” he murmured. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue ghosting over the sensitive skin over and over before he pressed harder. His hand came up to cup the other one, his thumb mimicking the ministrations of his tongue.

Pleasure rippled up your spine, and you let out a gasp as he continued to suck and kiss and squeeze. “Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured against your breast, and you let out a low whine when his lips pulled away. “This will be easier if I can see you.”

Your eyes flew open, and embarrassment seared through your arousal that was building in your core. Azriel’s hands were still on you, his body still hovering over yours, but your skin had taken on its characteristic iridescence when you shifted. You immediately pulled at that thread of your power, releasing it once the shimmer faded and his eyes met yours.

“I”m sorry,” you mumbled, face hot.

His thumb stroked your hip, his eyes soft. “None of that.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your stomach, his lips slowly trailing lower and lower. “I find it flattering that I can make you lose control,” he rasped, his lips painting agonizing illustrations across your skin, narrowly avoiding where you so desperately needed him. 

“No more apologizing,” he said, fingers slowly dipping into the band of your underwear. His eyes locked on yours, and the breath left your lungs when you saw the lust and adoration in his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You stared blankly for a second, stomach flipping as you took in the dominance of his words, of his touch, the softness from moments again molded into new undiluted desire. A small smirk pulled at his lips, and he tugged at the band of your underwear, leaning down closer. “Do you understand?” he repeated.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he hummed, then slowly dragged the cloth down your legs, tossing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

He came back up to meet your lips in a kiss, while slowly dragging his fingers across your core. Small pants and moans fell from your mouth into his, as his fingers worked over the sensitive flesh with tantalizing precision. Every stroke and press sent euphoria through your body, your pleasure coiling tight in your center. When he slid one finger inside you, you clutched his shoulders tight, your nails digging deep into his flesh. “Azriel,” you moaned, your head falling away from his mouth and into the pillows behind you.

His lips moved to suckle more kisses across your neck, falling down to your breasts as he slid a second finger in. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against you. You keened under his praise, your hips lifting as your pleasure coiled tighter.

He pushed them back down, eyes glowing as he looked up at you. “Hold still, baby.”

Gods he was perfect. He was beautiful and loving and made you feel otherworldly, and your eyes burned as your pleasure finally reached a precipice, rapidly falling over the edge. Your body shook as he worked you through it, his strokes growing slower and gentler until he finally pulled his fingers away. 

You could feel how hard he was against your thigh, and his underwear was straining from the fullness of him. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you said, still breathless. “I need you,” you whined, hooking your leg around his hip to pull him closer. Azriel smiled softly. “Please. I need all of you.”

He pulled back, but only to slide his underwear from his hips, leaving him completely bare in front of you. He hovered back over you before you could ogle for long, but any protests died on your tongue when you saw the emotion in his eyes. “You have all of me,” he said, voice low and sweet, his words like honey for your soul.

He fit himself against you, both of you sucking in sharp breaths as he slowly sank in. Your hand cupped his face, pulling his gaze back to you. “You have all of me, too,” you whispered. 

Your words seemed to snap something inside of Azriel, his hips going flush against you. You gasped, the stretch momentarily burning. He murmured apologies against your hair, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he waited for you to adjust. “It’s okay,” you breathed out. “I’m okay. You can move. Please move.”

He did as you asked, his hips slowly pulling away before gliding back in. He gradually picked up his pace, watching you with every thrust, every push and pull you gave each other. The two of you were enraptured with the other, eyes locked on each other as you chased your euphoria together. Azriel’s lips pressed against yours, his chest folding across yours as his wings flared out behind him. “I swear the Mother made you for me,” he groaned.

His words made your brain falter, the thought alone of being his mate knocking something loose inside you. You had never considered that this male with you now could possibly be your mate—that you would ever be so blessed to find your mate, let alone it be him. Mother above, you hoped it was him. Maybe it made you selfish, for wanting that eternal bond between your souls, when not even yesterday you couldn’t fathom the scenario you were in now, but there was something about the word mate, something about Azriel being your mate that felt so innately right.

His thrusts slowed, his hand cupping your cheek, drawing your thoughts back to the moment. “Are you still with me?” he asked softly.

You grabbed his hand on your cheek, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m with you,” you said, wiggling your hips to chase the friction of his slow thrusts. His eyes glowed with lust, pushing your intertwined hands to rest above your head. You moaned as his thrusts turned harder and sloppy, chasing his high right alongside yours. His free hand fell between you, circling your bundle of nerves until you came undone, and his body fell limp on top of yours as he quickly followed. 

His breaths were heavy against your ear, his face pressed against yours as he squeezed your still intertwined hands, then slowly unlaced your fingers. You rested your hand in his hair, playing with the damp strands curling loosely at the nape of his neck. “That was perfect,” you whispered, voice tinged with awe.

Azriel pushed himself up enough to roll off you, though his side was still pressed to yours as he gazed down at you. “Beyond perfect.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft and adoring smile making his eyes crinkle and your heart skip a beat. 

He laid down on the pillow next to you, his arm wrapping around your body to pull you against his chest. He kissed the side of your jaw before nuzzling his chin against your shoulder, pulling the messy covers up around the two of you. His wing followed suit, curling around you like a protective shield. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, and you were certain you would never grow tired Azriel’s affection. To think he balked when you called him a softie just days ago.

“Happy Solstice,” he hummed in your ear, a hint of mischief in his tone.

You laughed lightly, settling back into his arms as you closed your eyes. “Happy Solstice.”

~ ~ ~

You placed a gentle hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his head immediately turning toward you. “Hi,” you greeted softly, a nervous smile pulling at your lips.

His eyes glowed as he looked at you, his own lips twitching into a warm smile that made your insides shimmer. “Hi,” he said softly.

Your friends were sitting around the coffee table in the living room, each perched on various cushions as they laughed at something Cassian said. Even Amren seemed amused. Azriel stood up a bit straighter from where he had been leaning against the archway, the top of his head brushing against the garland he had helped you hang last night, which was indeed a bit lopsided.

Azriel tracked your gaze, grinning when he noticed the garland. He reached up, repinning it into its position. “Still beautiful,” he said.

Your face flushed. His arm brushed yours as he stepped close again, his wing brushing against your back as they flared slightly. “Are you enjoying your first proper Solstice?” he asked.

You looked at your friends again, at the fire glowing in the hearth and the gifts scattered around the room. Your eyes fell back to the male beside you, and your heart felt like it could burst. “I am, actually.”

His hand reached for yours, slyly twining his fingers together with yours. “Good,” he murmured. He leaned down closer, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. “Happy Solstice.”

Your face went hot instantly, your ears burning as you pulled away from him, but his hand in yours kept you glued to his side as his eyes glinted devilishly in the light of the fire. “You’re a brute,” you grumbled, then said, “Happy Solstice.”

Azriel chuckled lightly, his arm looping around your waist to pull you even closer to his side. “I have another gift for you,” he said softly. “Come with me?”

You nodded eagerly, letting him turn you toward the hallway. The two of you stopped short when Rhys said, “Please don’t christen any more rooms in this house. I haven’t even properly moved in yet.”

You buried your face against Azriel, his arm tightening around you as mortification slid through you. “Fuck off, Rhysand,” Azriel called back, guiding you up the stairs. Your friends’ laughter could still be heard once you made it upstairs, but you tried to focus on the male beside you, his hand pulling you after him. 

He led you out on a balcony, the stone fixture bare save for a dusting of snow. The stars were bright in the night sky above you, the air unusually calm for winter, though snow flakes still fell around the two of you. “I didn’t know this was here,” you murmured, looking out at the glowing houses stretching down the street. “Doesn’t everything already seem…happier, now that Rhys is High Lord?” you asked Azriel, watching the faeries walking the street with children running around them in glee.

“He’s given people hope,” he said, stepping up to the railing beside you. “That’s powerful.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You give me hope,” you said softly, watching the snowflakes fall from the sky. “I was ready to give up my second week here, and you pulled me up off my ass and told me to fight. Then you did it again, and again. You kept me going.”

Azriel didn't say anything for a minute, your words settling around the two of you. He eventually cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to him. “I really do have another gift for you,” he said, voice almost shy as he pulled a small box from his pocket. He opened the velvet container to reveal a sapphire necklace—the sapphire necklace you wanted from the Solstice Market.

“Azriel,” you drawled out breathlessly, watching him pull the dainty chain from the box.

He reached around your neck, clasping the chain together before straightening the pendant so that it rested in the center of your chest. His cheeks were pink as he said, “I knew you wanted it, and I knew you would never buy it. I thought maybe you would let yourself wear it if it was a gift.”

Your lips trembled as your fingers ghosted over the gem. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I wish I had something else for you.” All you had given him was a dagger that Cassian helped you pick out, which felt much less personal than this necklace that laid against your skin.

Azriel shook his head, his hands pulling you close to him by your waist. “You’ve already given me everything I could ever want,” he murmured. He leaned in slowly to press a kiss to your lips, the two of you melting together instantly.

You pulled back, your breath mixing with his in the cold air. “I love you.”

Azriel blinked, his grip tightening on your waist. Your heart was pounding, but you had to tell him. You had been in love with him for far too long, and he had given you far too much for you to go another second without telling him what he meant to you.

His throat bobbed, his shadows flitting around his wings rapidly. “You love me?” he asked, breathless.

“More than anything,” you said, a bit of nervous laughter creeping into your voice.

He wrapped you in his arms, your face going flush against his chest as his head rested on yours. You returned his embrace easily, but he was just as quickly pulling back to press another kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmured against your mouth, and your whole body felt like it had been set aglow. “And you love me?”

“Yes,” you assured again, your hand resting against his cool cheek.

His own hand covered yours, his fingers wrapping around your own. “I changed my mind,” he rasped, eyes alight. “This is everything I could ever want.”

[optimisticbabydreamer]

Literal art

[pietrarose]

Jay is feeling like Odysseus XDXDXD

ALSO WTF POSEIDON????

"Aren't you tired, Poseidon?

It's been 2600 years, how long will this go, man?"

[berryz-writes]

Maps

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriels daughter finds his scars far more interesting than the map you're trying to show her, indirectly healing a part of Azriel he had left in the dark

Note: I had to make some last minute edits on my phone so the spacings and other things might be slightly off. OTHER THAN THAT, enjoy some more fluff <33

@azrielappreciationweek day 2

I spread the map of Prythian across the table, carefully smoothing out the edges so Alaiyah could see it. Her little hands gripped the tables edge as she leaned in, dark brown ringlets tumbling over her face, her dimples peeking out as she tried to focus.

Her hazel eyes—Azriel’s hazel eyes—peered down with intense focus, so much energy and curiosity in that tiny frame, and I felt my heart swell as I watched her.

“Look, Alaiyah,” I murmured, my finger tracing the spot where Velaris lay hidden in the mountains. “This is where we live. You remember the pretty lights at night, don’t you?” She tilted her head, scrunching her little nose in thought. For a moment, I thought she was captivated, her gaze roaming over the detailed lines of rivers and mountains. But then, she looked up at me, a spark in her eyes, a hint of mischief, and she shook her head, a dimple flashing in her cheek as she whispered, “Im going to daddy”

Before I could respond, she slipped down from her chair, her tiny bare feet padding softly across the floor to the bed where Azriel sat, watching us with that quiet, contemplative look of his. She clambered up with ease, settling herself into his lap with a confidence that had Azriel momentarily taken aback. His lips parted slightly, but he stayed still, watching her with that gentleness he only kept for her and me.

Alaiyah took his scarred, calloused hand between her own, her chubby fingers so tiny as they tried to span the length of his broad palm. Azriel’s whole body stilled as she traced each scar and line with careful fingers, her small brow furrowed as if this were a puzzle only she could solve.

“I like this map” she murmured with conviction, tracing a deep scar across the center of his palm. "This is the mountain" she said, tapping near his thumb, her voice soft but certain. “the river,” she added, running her finger along a thinner line on his wrist.

Azriel’s expression softened, as he allowed her to continue, his shadows curling closer around them as if forming a cocoon. He lowered his gaze, watching her with an intensity I hadn’t seen before—a quiet awe mixed with something raw and vulnerable.

Finally, Alaiyah looked up at him, a shy, dimpled smile lighting her face as she whispered, “This is my favorite place.” Azriel’s thumb brushed softly over her small hand, and he swallowed, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths, as he pressed a kiss to her one cheek, then another.

He raised his gaze to meet mine, his eyes holding an unspoken gratitude, a love so deep it felt as if he’d let his very soul be opened up and laid bare.

And as Alaiyah nestled herself closer to his chest, her small fingers tracing his skin with reverence, I knew she’d shown him something he never thought he could find— a peace, within himself.

Azriel’s gaze lifted to mine, his eyes catching and holding mine with a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest. Without a word, he extended a wing, unfolding it slowly, curving around to make space for me beside him and Alaiyah. I moved quietly across the room, settling down against him as his wing wrapped around us both, a sheltering cocoon of warmth and protection.

Alaiyah, noticing I had joined the daughter and father duo, turned and leaned against me, curling her tiny fingers around mine as she nestled between us.

After a moment of silence Azriel leaned down, his voice soft as he spoke again. “Did you know,” he said, glancing between us, “this is my favorite place too?” I felt his words settle over us, a quiet, unspoken promise woven into the gentle hold of his wings and the warmth of his arms. I leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Alaiyah's giggle broke through "Silly daddy. I'm not a place"

Gods did I love her, I thought as Azriel’s laughter washed over me. How I wished I could capture this moment forever.

Note: pretty sure all the fics I've planned for az are fluff 😭 who cares he deserves it

[froggybogwitch]

U cannot convince me that cass didn't have to go through *months* of physiotherapy and rehabilitation to be able to fly again after the debacle in hybern. And u cannot convince me that any of them would have let a stranger do it. Cass needed the emotional support anyway.

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[thememedaddy]

[harrystylesfan2686]

Alone

Pairing: no one really.

Summary: Reader starts to feel left out in her own family...

Warnings: Neglection. Suicide thoughts. Self harm (in detail) please go back if any of these bother you. Your mental heath matters more.

A/N: I think I need therapy too...

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Ever wondered what it's like to be alone?

It's a game, really. A game of utter self degradation. A game where there are only two players, you and your mind. A game where you never truly win and you always have to keep playing because your brain never tires.

A game which no one else realizes your playing until you lose and it's too late.

It's the game you have been playing ever since the Archerons joined the inner circle. You love them all, honestly. Thier different personalities was the first thing that drew you to them. You admir all three of them but the one thing you hate is how you got left alone after their involvement to your life.

Before them, you all relied on all of you for company and support. Now, everybody has their own person.

Rhysand has Feyre, Cassian has Nesta, Azriel has Elain, and Mor and Amren have found thier partners too but in case they aren't present, Mor and Amren, as crazy as it sounds, rely on each other. Just like that, everybody has a person to go home to, to come back safely for, to turn to for comfort.

You don't have anyone.

You hate going home because your bed is always empty. You hate going on missions because you know no one would be worrying about you every minute you gone. You hate celebrations because you have no one to dance with, to drink with, to end the day with.

You love family dinners. Even though you never get a chance to speak, even though you never talk to anyone, even though no one notices your presence. You love family dinners and meetings because it's the only time youre not alone.

It's doesn't matter if you're lonely, at least you aren't alone.

But in the game you're playing with yourself, after a while, you get too tired to challenge back with same force. You don't push back the mean thoughts your mind throws at you as insults. You listen to them, compare them to your situation and realise, you've been trying to win for nothing.

You slowly stop trying to protect yourself all together.

The first time you didn't go to a family dinner, you thought you would regret it later but you didn't, instead you felt glad that you didn't go because no one had come to get you, no one came to ask why you didn't show, no one cared about you enough to think why you didn't go.

So you stopped going at all.

You stopped doing everything with you 'family' and prefered being left alone.

You only met them when you had a mission together or anything related to work.

Just like that, today you had gone to one of the Illyrian camps at Rhys orders. He got report saying things haven't been going as they should there and wanted you to go check. But on your way back you had been ambushed by a group of six men wanting to kill you in the camp, they couldn't of course but you did come out of the fight with a large sward wound on your left side.

All you wanted to do was go home, rest, tend to your wound and sleep. You can give the report to Rhys tomorrow.

You let out a grunt and step in your house, immediately tense seeing a shadow of a person move the dark room. Your hand placing itself in your dagger straped to your thigh, you other hand on the left side of your waist pressing on your wound.

"Relax, it's just me." A familiar voice fills the silence as the fae lights turn on and Rhysands face becomes visible. You sigh in relief and furrow your eyebrows,"What you doing so late in my house?" You nearly snap, but hold back as respect for your high lord.

"You came late you were suppose to be here two hours ago." For minute it feels like he cares for you, and you allow yourself to believe that he was worried for you but you fantasy shatters the second he opens his mouth again. "You were supposed to deliver your report two hours ago. You know how important this is, I have other things to do too." His voice sharp as he scolds you.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I got attacked while leaving, it took time to fight them of. It was six against one but well I managed to survive, eh?" Rhysand's scowl deepens. "Tell me what happened there now."

Your eyes closs for a second whem you feel dizzy. "Look, how about you give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I also have a wound to–," You try to say but he cuts you off saying,"I don't have more time. Tell me right now what happened so I can get started on fixing things, then you can have all the time to fresh up as you want. My office, now." He doesn't leave much to room to argue and winnows you to his office.

You sigh and start speaking, repeating everything you noticed in the camp as Rhysand listens and writes down the report. Near the end, you feel another wave of dizziness hit you and put your head down to rest it against the backrest of your chair and groan when you feel pain shoot up from your injury from the movement.

Rhysand finally notices the source of your pain and his eyes flare,"You're hurt?" You scoff. "Yes. That's what I was trying to tell you before you winnowed us here."

"I didnt notice it. I'm sorry, you should go tend to it." He quickly dismisses you, finally letting you go back to your house.

As you look at yourself in the mirror, thinking how filthy and hideous you seem, you grit your teeth. Of course no one notices you. Look at you. You are ugly and filled with dirt and scars all over your body.

How could anyone look at you when you can't even look at yourself.

Your gaze falls to your wound, the big cut that spread from under you left breast to the start of your thigh. If was deep enough to bleed you dry.

Would anyone even notice if you did? If you don't heal and let the injury bleed you dead. Would anyone know that you were gone? That your body layed unmoving in the bathroom floor. How long would it take for someone to find you? Who would find you? Probably Rhysand when he needs you for his next mission.

You eye your dagger that you unshielded on your way in the bathroom. How long would it take for you to bleed out? Hours? Days? You didn't want that. That was too much. You don't think you can handle that much pain constantly. Maybe if you took that dagger and deepen your cut, you would bleed out faster. Maybe you would have a faster death. Sure it would hurt but at least you would be gone before someone found you.

You would be free. Free of the loneliness. Free of the feeling like you were a burden in everyone's life. Free of wanting Someone to care for you the way you see everyone else care for their loved ones. You would finally be at peace.

You gasp and blink out the terrible thoughts. Breathing heavy, you search for the cotton and Healing cream in the cupboards. You groan out with you don't find any of them.

You turn back to the mirror. Maybe your brain is right. Maybe this is a sign from Mother herself telling you to not let the wound heal and die right here, right now. Your gaze finds the knife again, eyeing the sharp edge. Would it really be that bad?

Your hand grips the handle of the dagger, bringing it closer to the cut. You let the cold mettle edge scrap the skin, an inch afar the start of the cut. The sharp edge slicing through skin like paper, leaving a line of crimson red blood, seeping out of the newly cut skin.

Your eyes widen as you observe yourself, keeping the knife near the cut but not touching it entirely.

It's... mesmerizing. The way blood slowly comes out of the skin, the small and steady lines created by your dagger are engrossing. And the pain, the pain is hypnotizing, slowing raising to the rest of your body. Your body feels electrified, there's snips of pain tingling through out your entire body, your ears buzzing with excitement. Your hands are shaking and eyes bluring but all you can focus on is how much you want to do this again. Feel your skin open beneath you knife again. Feel the pain that slowing raises with each extra inch of cut.

Oh gods. What have you done?

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Edit: A poll for part 2

[daily-spooky]

[optimisticbabydreamer]

Khloe Rose literally described being a book girl in a song and it’s just speaking to my in the most touching and wrecking way😩‼️❤️

[pathofregeneration]

“The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns. The pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious to the rose.”

— Khalil Gibran

[thehopefulquotes]

“I hide behind sarcasm because telling you to go fuck yourself is considered rude in most social situations.”

— Unknown