Warnings: pure angst, implied cheating kinda/sorta??
You shifted uncomfortably in your chair as the night passed. Your friend's sympathetic looks and reassuring words only soured your mood more. It was another dinner he missed and another promise he broke. Your embarrassment turned to anger as you closed your tab and started home. The night was quiet and still as if aware of the pending storm inside of you. The house was dark and empty, just as you had expected. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. You just made your way to the bedroom and changed into pajamas. Pulling the blankets over you and trying to sleep despite knowing you wouldn’t.
You didn’t acknowledge Azriel’s arrival an hour later. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled in on his side of the bed. An all too familiar floral scent lingering on him made your stomach twist. The weight of his arm around you feels entirely wrong, “I’m sorry, love.” He murmurs into your hair. That was it? That’s all he had to offer? A non descript apology? You push his arm off of you before grabbing your pillow and starting for the door. “Where are you going?” He asks. “Couch.” You answer, your tone annoyed and laced with anger. He lets out a sigh, “it couldn’t be helped.” He says as if it should absolve him of your anger. You don’t dignify that with a response before closing the door behind you.
You barely slept making you sluggish during your training with Cassian the next morning. “Maybe we should call it a day.” Cassian suggests as your frustration rises, anger replaces focus. “I’m fine.” You state, already preparing for another round of sparring. “One more round. You’d better be focused and ready to train. If not, I'm calling it quits for today.” Cassian relents. “Fine. Let’s do this.” You say in agreement. You manage five minutes before Cassian has you pinned and tells you that you’re done. You’re ready to argue when you notice a shadow lingering close by. Your eyes leave Cassian as you find Azriel leaning against the wall nearby.
Cassian doesn’t bother with an excuse as he leaves the two of you alone. You hesitate for just a moment before trying to follow Cassian’s exit. A shadow on your arm stops you as you glare at it’s owner. “We should talk.” Azriel says. His words only fuel your anger as if it’s an obligation more than a want. “What do I have to do for you to forgive me? I already apologized last night, what more do you want?” He asks. You can’t help but scoff at his mention of his basic apology from last night. His jaw ticks at your offending reaction as if he has a right to be angry after any of this. The idea of him being angry in this situation has every pent up moment rushes to the surface.
“You want to know what you have to do? Pick one, me or her. Oh, that’s right you already have. You’ve picked her every time. Every missed dinner, every night I’ve spent hours alone in bed, every time you promised to make it up to me and she needed you. What about me? What about all the times I’ve needed you and you were with her. You’ve made it clear where I stand in your life and I’ve been too foolish to see it until now. Goodbye, Azriel.” You say, storming passed his stunned figure. The crack in your heart finally causing it to shatter. You don’t acknowledge anyone as you make your way towards the steps, needing to leave. Strong arms pick you up, staring up at Cassian. “Where?” He asks, his expression too soft and too close to sympathy. “Home.”
Contains: Post what-could-be-considered sexual assault, self-harm?, mention of splattered brains, physical violence, blood. Unedited, no use of Y/N.
a/n: halo-hanging posting ?! 😦 sorry if any spelling errors my spellcheck isn’t working. also shoutout to you all for giving me the ideas to write this one so sorry i’ve been gone <3
Cold air clung to your skin tighter than the thin shift wrapped around you, carrying a damp, musty weight that settled deep in your lungs with every breath.
That male hadn’t returned since throwing the itchy garment through the bars and telling you to suck it up.
You didn’t want to think of his name—which, at least, you hadn’t provided him the satisfaction of moaning. Just thinking of him and what he’d done to you…your stomach roiled with shame at the sick, sick part of you that initially found him just the slightest bit attractive, that enjoyed—even just a little bit, enough to want to orgasm—his complete violation of your body.
Your body, which was still shaking as you curled your legs up to your chest, the dim light allowing you to see your skinned knees when his damned shadows had dropped you. Gently, you brushed your thumbs over the scrapes.
It was sickening how you could still feel his seed dripping out of you.
In. Out. In. Out. You reminded yourself to breathe, even as the sound of your heartbeat in your ears got louder.
The hope that your brothers would be here had soon dimmed. Maybe you didn’t matter as much as you actually thought. Maybe you weren’t worth the effort of retrieving.
So much for holding you as leverage against your court.
Soon you lay your aching, shivering body sideways on the ground, legs still curled up. If it were any other time, you might’ve been mindful of the cleanliness—but nothing could be more disgusting now that you’d been taken in such a way by some Night Court scum.
And even as you tried to keep silent, the dungeon walls echoed your weeping mockingly.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Azriel was occupied with drafting the terms for the Vanserra girl’s return. Not his task of choice—but he could never disobey outright orders from his High Lord.
The quill flew across the paper, using the neat lettering he favoured for diplomatics. Whilst the Vanerssa daughter was one of the main subjects of the paper, you, downstairs, were barely a thought in his mind. Merely a good fuck and hopefully something that’d irk your eldest brother if he found out. Azriel wasn’t afraid of potential revenge for the act, being undaunted by Eris—though he should probably give you something to mask his scent on you, not wanting to go through the trouble of the male.
Azriel continued to write.
Your response will determine how—and how soon she
Azriel froze. His shadows, once lazily swirling at his feet, froze as well.
Something was wrong.
The world tilted.
Blood roared in his ears, each heartbeat slamming through him until the edges of his vision darkened. For a moment, there was nothing but shadows.
Then it collapsed.
As quickly as it came, the sensation shrank into a hollow in his chest. The entirety of that feeling compressing into such a small space. A black hole. He couldn’t breathe. It hooked its fingers into his heart and pulled, wrenching something deep and vital in him to—
You.
Mate, the tug whispered.
Azriel’s breaths fractured. His fingers tangled in his hair, hard enough he should’ve felt pain, but he didn’t.
Mate, it whispered again.
This second time his shadows understood.
They recoiled.
They moved faster than he’d ever seen—not from the room, or a threat—but from him. Vanishing into nothing.
Azriel sat alone, the word echoing in his chest. On the desk beneath him, the quill pen had leaked ink all over the statement he’d been drafting. Irremovable stains expanding over his precise writing, mirroring the way the bond spread over his usually controlled self.
His legs itched to carry him to the dungeons downstairs, but he strongly doubted you’d want to see his face. He wasn’t even sure if you’d felt the mating link snap yet. How was he supposed to fix anything like this? With what he’d just done to you…he gagged on the bile that surged.
So badly, Azriel’s instincts called out to protect you, to care for you. How was he supposed to do that if you refused him? If you were afraid of him? His breath lodged in his throat.
For once, Azriel had no clue what to do.
The first thing you noticed when you awoke was the thick blanket over you. He probably realised you’d be of no use to Night if you died of hypothermia.
The second thing you noticed was the dulled soreness between your thighs, then your eyes tired from crying.
It was brighter now. The sconces lining the walls near your cell had been lit. Shifting around, you found a tray with water that looked clean and a plate of bread—sliced. A press of your fingers found that it was warm, too. Clever incentive to get you to eat and drink something that was likely laced to keep you compliant.
But it wasn’t as if you could get worse anyway, so you ate the bread while it was still warm and downed it with the water.
Just then, you spotted rippling shadows at the bars of your cell. Watching you. Unbound, you could easily warm the bars of the cell and bend them just enough to get yourself out. But not with the shadows there.
You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, shuffling to sit in the corner. Stared at the shadows—though it was a funny thing, since you weren’t quite sure where you were supposed to look, but you were sure they were entirely aware of you anyway.
“Tell your master,” you began quietly, “that nobody will be coming for me. And that it’s no use for them to keep me here.”
The shadows seemed to pause. Then a coil of them reached out and easily unlatched the lock, the sound of wheels rolling on stone echoing through the dungeon as they pushed the bars aside.
You were wary of their actions. It had to be some sort of test or trick. There was no way they—or he’d—let you go so easily. Was there?
Sitting there, you watched the shadows. They didn’t move, remaining by the now-opened bars. If you made a run for it, would they catch you and drag you back? Dangle freedom in front of your face just to cruelly remove it once again, toying with you the way their master seemed to so enjoy?
Enough time had passed while considering the suspicious offer of freedom for you to realise nothing you ate had been laced. Perhaps they’d realised you really weren’t worth anything to trade.
The thought was a pin in your heart, but you could do nothing about it except help yourself.
You wrapped the blanket tighter over your shoulders and stood. The shadows didn’t react. You didn’t make a run for it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Instead, you just headed straight out.
But at the bars, a mild, curious shadow curled around your wrist. The touch wasn’t heavy at all, but the sensation that came with it brought you crumbling to your knees, your grip on the blanket slipping. You didn’t even register the pain as your already-scraped knees hit the ground; with all your concentration focused on trying to breathe through the phantom hands that seemed to close around your lungs.
Deep breaths seemed to calm your racing heart and bring oxygen back into your lungs again after a moment. Your hand clung tightly to a bar of the cell gate, knuckles white.
You weren’t graced with the time to collect yourself or your thoughts when your hands flew to your chest.
Nails digging into the shift. Scratching at the fabric. All in an attempt to gouge the unfamiliar feeling out of your body. Willing to excavate your heart if it meant removing the firm bond that linked you to him.
“Stop,” you wailed. The shadows, not expecting such a reaction from you, were unsure.
It was a string of fate, all right. One with a hook in your soul and the rope tight around your neck like a noose.
The fabric gave. You clawed at your chest, leaving ugly red lines. Skin tore easily. Soon there was blood under your nails and the promise of flesh.
Trembling, you cried out. You didn’t know what hurt more—the bond, or your self-inflicted pain.
“Stop, make it stop…”
The shadows intervened. Some gently embraced your wrists, urging you to stop. Others wrapped around the tips of your fingers. Preventing you from raking your skin.
“Stop it!” They held fast even as you attempted to bat them away. You tried to dig your fingers into your sternum, but the shadows around your wrists lightly strayed your actions.
The other shadows drew the blanket back over your shoulders, rubbed your back, dried your tears, and smoothed your hair.
He had to know, for his shadows to be here, you realised. Even more it made you want to swat at them, but they seemed to adamant on caring for you. If this was his attempted apology…
“Make it go away,” you hiccuped. “Make it go away! Stop, stop, I don’t want this…”
Disgust and nausea overtook you—quite promptly, you lurched over, bile and blood rising in your throat.
This was the male the Cauldron chose?
Your torn skin stung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you emptied the contents of your stomach on the stone floor. At least your hair was held back.
You weren’t sure how long this continued to happen—you may have passed out, because when you got ahold of yourself again you were leaning on a wall, and the shadows had another glass of water for you.
They raised it higher, offering it to you.
Shaky fingers closed around the glass. You used it to wash the taste out of your mouth until you could only imagine the metallic tang behind your teeth.
Your head hurt. Your chest hurt.
You remained there as the bond festered into something sickly within your body, then decided that that was enough of moping. Standing, your hand shot out for balance—finding the grimy wall that made you grimace. Stomach churning, fingers trembling, you threw another glance at the shadows that hovered by the open gate of the cell. They fluttered unthreateningly, one of them even pushing the door open further. Go on, they seemed to whisper.
A chill spread through your bones, but whether from the cold of the dungeon or the flickering, unwanted awareness in your heart you were unsure. Either way, you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders, wincing as your hands brushed the self-inflicted mess over your sternum.
With another glance at the suspicious shadows, you slowly trod out of the cell. The shadows remained still. Another cautious step. Still no movement. Once you were a comfortable few paces away from the cell, you made a run for it—only for the shadows to chase after you. You knew they could outrun you, yet they never seemed to lay a tendril on you; only hovering by your elbows.
Following the light, you emerged in—a library? What seemed to be priestesses had taken on the role of librarians, not batting an eye at you even as you made your way through the tome-filled shelves. Ahead of you, the shadows snaked a path to an exit. Or a trap. You ignored them, swapping your blanket for a robe snatched off the back of a chair.
There were so many sets of stairs. The shadows returned to you as you blindly chose one, thick material of the robes bunched in a fist as you ran up the steps. It gave way to a tidy antechamber, a door ajar at one end and double doors wide open at the other. A flash of movement caught your eye through the crack of the former door.
Your chest tugged.
Sensing your presence in his antechamber, the spymaster came barrelling through the door. A gasp escaped your lips as you backed up. Bloodshot eyes took you in. With every step you took away from him, he took a smaller one towards you.
He could feel your intentions—just as you were about to bolt, a hoarse “Wait” glued your feet to the marble floor.
“I didn’t know,” his voice cracked, wide eyes welling with tears. His knees hit the floor with a thud. “I swear on the Cauldron, I didn’t fucking know—I’m sorry, please, please—”
“No,” you said firmly. “I don’t care. Every breath I take will be in rejection of this bond; till the day I die I will remember how you violated me. May the Mother bless me with the knowledge of your eternal guilt and suffering for laying your filthy hands on me.”
With each word, you could see the light drain from those hazel eyes, silent tears streaming down his rugged face. “I’m—”
“I’m not done. To anyone who asks, both you and I will deny the existence of the bond. You will not say a word of it to anybody.”
Your demands were just that—a strict order. But when the male agreed brokenly, “Deal”—it was secured as an agreement.
His mistake was recognised too late. With your statement being sealed into a pact, you pushed your heavy sleeve up as you felt, in horror, the sensation of pinpricks crawling around your wrist and forearm. In its wake was dark ink in a coil of thorns. A choked noise from the spymaster—singalling his identical mark—confirmed your suspicions.
A bargain tattoo.
As if you needed anything else to bind you to the kneeling spymaster. You let the sleeve fall to cover your arm again, looking down your nose at him. He was a mess, hunching and wings drooping with his red-rimmed eyes and black locks messy from worrying his hands through.
He brought his ruin upon himself.
Again, as you turned, came another croaky “Wait”. He cleared his throat twice before speaking. “It’s almost impossible for you to leave.”
“I can winnow.” I am not staying here with you.
“The– wards. You have to jump before you can do that.”
You glanced over your shoulder. “And how can I trust you are not asking me to jump to my death?”
A pained sound left his throat. “Please…believe me. I want no harm to come to you. There’s a stairwell as well, but the ten thousand steps require incredible mental fortitude…” The way he spoke sounded as if it hurt him to have you leave him. Perhaps the stories of fae males feeling the bond more strongly meant it did.
“I will leave however I want. I do not wish to speak to you.”
Deep, ripping regret and self-loathing echoed down the bond. You shoved it aside and turned to leave with his shadows continuing to trail you.
Attempts to winnow out on your way to finding a balcony proved it impossible. Standing by a balcony balustrade, you looked down. Sparse clouds drifted across the rocky mountain the house was built into, overlooking the city below.
You were shaking from weariness and fear as you gathered the robes and stepped onto the balustrade. Waiting a moment too late to winnow would have your brains splattered across the rocks.
Following a sigh, you stepped off the balustrade.
Keeping the winnowing channel of your mind open, all you could do was wait as gravity waited to welcome you by kissing your cheeks with harsh wind.
As soon as the wards faltered, you were sucked into the warm whirlwind of darkness.
In your mind you pictured the red and gold forests of Autumn. But this drained, you couldn’t winnow across courts—especially not one so far from Night. You remembered a hazy image of a forest in Night you’d seen once. Of course, there was the risk of not returning properly to your body, but it was your only shot.
Carefully gathering your thoughts, you were lucky when you were spat out onto damp earth. The sun was still up, thank the Mother—but it wouldn’t be for long. You needed to ignore the pull in your chest and find your bearings.
It wasn’t long before you were kneeling by a stream, lips wet with drink and soles aching from walking barefoot.
A questioning call of your name came from behind you.
The moment you made eye contact with your eldest brother, your facade crumbled. With sure steps, Eris made his way over to you.
You sagged with relief as he knelt beside you, relieved by the familiar comfort of his presence. Though neither of you were particularly expressive through physical means, the pat on your back unlodged something in your chest. The same steady reassurance you’d known since childhood.
“I thought— thought you weren’t coming for me,” you got out through hiccups as he helped you to stand.
“You were being kept in Velaris,” Eris explained, “we couldn’t get in; but did you really think we’d just leave you there? …Don’t cry, godsdamnit, I don’t know what to do when you cry.”
Despite everything, you let out a watery laugh.
He was midway through telling you how your other brothers were looking for you as well, saying that he’d winnow the both of you home first, when he went silent, noticing the loitering shadows. Through your less-teary eyes now, you glanced sideways at your brother.
His expression was murderous. “What did that bastard do to you?”
You took in a shuttered breath. His eyes swept over you, landing on the blood crusted beneath your nails.
“Tell me what he did.”
“Eris,” a sob bubbled.
At your reluctance to speak, his lips formed a grim line. “We’ll get you home and cleaned up first. Then we’ll talk about it.”
Back at the Forest House, each inhale had your ribs pressing tight against the bandages wrapped around your chest. You’d scrubbed yourself raw in the bath, making sure there wasn’t a trace left of the Shadowsinger’s scent on your body. All that remained were the shadows, the tattoo, and the bond.
Now you sat in bed, nursing a bowl of warm broth while Eris paced. Once you were done speaking—careful to avoid any mention about the bond or the tattoo, Eris stood still. “This is an insult to Autumn honour. His actions will not be overlooked.”
“What will you do?”
Eris was silent for a few moments. Then, quietly but not any less intimidatingly, “He will answer accordingly for what he did to you. I shall invoke a blood duel.”
The shadows flinched.
“No!” You cleared your throat, realising your argument sounded as if it was in the Shadowsinger’s defence. “I mean, it’s not worth it. I don’t want you getting hurt because of this.”
“I will not let some bastard get away with assaulting my blood!”
You thought of the spymaster, begging on his knees. The acute regret zinging down the bond. He meant his apology, but Eris wouldn’t know or believe that.
And the bond. Even if your brother were to initiate a blood duel, mating bonds cannot be broken in death. Eris would win, and the bond would remain, weighing you down in the Shadowsinger’s death; or Eris would die in vain.
“You can’t do it.”
“You doubt me,” came his dry disappointment.
“If anyone were to fight him to the death, it should be me.” But it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Not at all, if you knew the spymaster would refuse to lay a finger on you again.
“I will not let him hurt you. Again. Unless you have better ideas?”
You watched Eris silently, unable to voice the thoughts behind your eyes. “N–no…”
“I shall dispatch a missive.”
The shadows turned to face you as one, watching without eyes, as Eris left your chambers.
Two weeks later, your party of three waited in a lambent forest clearing. You, Eris, and another one of your brothers, Brandt, here to play mediator. With you at the head, the three of you stood a formidable trio; you and Brandt in ornate Autumn clothing, and Eris in shined silver armour.
Your group watched in disdain as the Spymaster of the Night Court approached—with Night’s own war general, trudging through orange undergrowth. Even from fifty feet away, the Shadowsinger’s posture was already defeated. Brandt sneered.
As he neared, you could see he was dressed in casual leathers. He was either incredibly confident or incredibly stupid. The two Illyrians ceased their conversation once within your earshot.
The bond hummed, a living thing between you two. Azriel swallowed thickly. His face paled at the sight of his own shadows guarding you. From him. You avoided his eyes. Tugged on your sleeve to make sure it was hiding the tattoo.
Brandt stepped forward between the two parties and cleared his throat. “Let it be known that Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, has invoked the ancient rite of the blood duel against Azriel Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Let the accused answer and state whether he accepts or refuses.”
“I accept.” Azriel’s voice sounded as if it were hanging by a fraying thread.
Eris unfastened his red cloak, folding it neatly before tossing it to the side where you and Cassian moved to stand apart.
“The grievance has been heard,” Brandt intoned, “the challenge has been accepted. Let the duel commence.”
Both males stood at the ready, though the spymaster’s stance seemed limp. Eris wasted no time in surging forward, his fist connecting with Azriel’s jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways. Azriel staggered a step; blood bloomed on his lower lip.
He didn’t raise a hand to strike back. Eris faltered momentarily, but his fist flashed out again, catching Azriel square across the bridge of his nose.
“Azriel,” Cassian yelled. “What are you doing?”
With a start, Eris launched himself at the male in question. They hit the ground hard—Eris on top—landing a series of blows to which Azriel only responded with a groan.
“Fight me, damn you!” A devastating crunch followed. You winced at the distress that shot down the bond. “Fight back!”
A broken sob followed. Cassian, slack-jawed, looked ready to intervene. Brandt scoffed, murmuring something under his breath.
“Have you no honour?” A wheeze was elicited from Azriel at Eris’s knee pressing against his sternum. “You have insulted my court. Violated my sister. Do you not wish to defend yourself?”
“I can’t,” he said tremulously. Tears streamed down his temples; blood streamed down the sides of his mouth.
“Are you mocking me with your inaction, Shadowsinger?”
“I can’t do it,” Azriel repeated, weeping.
Tensely, Cassian called, “Azriel, don’t be stupid.”
Eris’s eyes were ablaze. Fisting a hand in Azriel’s hair, he slammed his head back onto the ground.
“Azriel!”
The spymaster’s teary eyes caught yours, uttering your name. “I’m sorry,” he gargled out unintelligibly through a mouthful of blood. Or at least, you thought that was what he said, with the wave of his guilt that overcame you.
“That will not change what you did.” Eris’s statement was emphasised with another hit to the ground.
The third slam had Azriel’s eyes falling shut, his hair matted from the pooling blood. Cassian roared. The bond shuddered. Yet Eris was relentless.
“Eris,” you cautioned shakily, watching the blood seep into the earth. “Eris, stop—you’re going to kill him–”
“Yes.” His tone was too unbothered for the way he was repeatedly driving Azriel’s head into the rocky dirt. “He accepted the duel knowing what they are for.”
“Eris, enough–”
“Close your eyes if it bothers you.”
“Listen to your sister, please,” Cassian cried.
“Eris, you have to stop…” You exhaled before raising your voice firmly. “Eris Vanserra, by my right as the wronged party, I grant mercy and insist this blood duel be ended.”
Eris’s blazing eyes narrowed at you. “Why.”
You shook your head. Eris released Azriel’s hair and slowly stood—Cassian rushed over immediately.
“You are defending him? Is it out of guilt, sister?”
“No, no. I…”
“Explain.”
You gulped uncertainly with another small shake of your head. “I can’t.”
“I am sick of hearing those two words today–”
“There’s no point. In killing him—it won’t change anything,” you replied. “It won’t undo what he’s done, and–”
“You must be out of your mind,” Eris barked a sardonic chuckle. “First you stop the duel, then protect him, defend him…perhaps next you’ll inform me the bastard is your mate.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“No,” Eris was saying, his anger melting into dismay. “No, no, no. Are you bonded? Tell me you are not bonded.”
Even Cassian and Brandt were looking over now. You stuttered.
Eris pressed on. “Answer me. Is he your mate?”
“I– I cannot tell you.” Your throat tightened. “If you ask…I am forced to lie.”
Summary: Azriel refuses to leave your side after the Valkyrie training, which is all well and good until a certain High Lord shows up unannounced.
A/N: Almost there! Next part is Az finding out, I promise! I honestly didn't expect this part to take so long to come out. Thank you all so much for your patience. I don't know why, but writing every scene with Rhys so far has been like pulling teeth. Thank you all for your patience. Some stuff came up with my job that took over the past month of my life, but it should be over now, or at least calmed down (but I'm not promising anything).
This will probably be the shortest part, besides possibly the epilogue. There is a possibility that what is now part 5 will be split, but I'm not sure yet (the reveal will happen in the next chapter no matter what, don't you worry).
Word Count: 4.5K ish
Warnings: Reader has chronic pain (I'm trying to keep it accurate, but just in case: any medical inaccuracies are due to the fact that Reader is fae and not human and should be attributed to the biological differences between the two species), semi-unreliable narrators, feeling insecure, more angst, talk of pregnancies and complications during pregnancies (see previous note about medical inaccuracies, but with more fae and magic nonsense), past child abandonment, Rhysand means well
Part 3 | Part 5
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Azriel's wing coils gently behind you, its warmth seeping through the back of the couch, soothing some of your aching muscles. The shadows curl lazily about the room, humming contentedly. A soft smile pulls at your lips, eyes lethargically following their swirling movements. Azriel's arm drapes around you, his touch light, leaning into you as much as you are him. He insisted on taking you to his apartment after you reunited in the garden, keeping you close as you and the parents-to-be arranged a time for their appointment in a few days.
The two of you barely said a word when you arrived; Azriel discarding his leathers before sitting next to you on the couch, the shadows depositing warm mugs of tea in your hands. Your fingers flex gently around the mug, the contents seemingly charmed to remain the perfect temperature. Azriel takes a long, slow sip, eyes never leaving you.
The soft cushions relieve some of the stress on your spine, muscles still throbbing after spasming earlier. During the kiss. Just the thought has your smile growing and warmth rushing up your neck. You have only been kissed a handful of times, but they weren't… like that. A spark of warmth filling every part of you, the need to feel him more important than breathing, all your pain momentarily forgotten. It was the first time the bond flared so brightly since it snapped, the only time it brought a gentle warmth and love and acceptance and no pain.
Azriel nuzzles your hair softly, you can feel his smile against your scalp. "What are you thinking about that has you blushing so prettily?" he hums.
You turn to him slightly, flush deepening. "Just you," you admit in a whisper.
Azriel's smile broadens. "Oh, yeah?" he murmurs, amusement dripping from his voice. "What about me?"
Ducking, you hide your face in his shoulder. "The garden," you whisper.
He hums, pecking the crown of your head. "I meant every word."
You still, his words breathed into your skin hours ago echoing in your mind.
You are everything. So perfect.
I love you so much. My beloved.
I'm yours.
Your pulse climbs into your throat and you draw your hands in until you can feel the warmth of your tea on your stomach, almost enough to disguise the void opening there. You could feel the sincerity in his words, his earnestness flowed through the bond. You want so desperately to believe them, and you had for a brief, perfect moment.
Then your lower spine spasmed and reality flooded back. You aren't perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. He only calls you such things because you keep a part of yourself from him, a part that dictates your entire life. Such sweet nothings will die on his lips the moment he learns, as they have for everyone else in your life.
"Hey," Azriel murmurs, tenderly guiding your face out of his shirt. He studies you with a quiet intensity. "Where did you go?"
You try to force a smile, but it's shaky. "Nowhere," you try. Azriel hums, unconvinced, eyes not leaving yours. You take a deep breath, gaze sliding to a shadow curling serenely on his shoulder. "I- I didn't mean to ruin everything with your family," you breathe.
His brows cinch, eyes flickering between yours. "Oh, my love," he whispers, voice soft and thick. Shaking his head, he leans in slowly until his forehead rests on yours. "You didn't ruin anything," he vows, the words gentle but heavy.
"But… the Hight Lord–" you start.
"Was wrong," he finishes gently, running his thumb across your cheek. "He never should've spoken to you that way. He knew those questions were inappropriate and asked anyway. If anyone ruined anything, it was him, not you."
You purse your lips, taking a shaky breath. The High Lord may have asked the questions, but only in response to you, your job, your trip to the Dawn Court. It was still your fault in that way, but you knew Azriel would never see it that way.
Your eyes drop to his chest. "I'm sorry about this morning," you breathe, shifting to try to relieve the ache from your twisting spine.
"Y/N," he whispers reverently, his voice catching. His other hand cups your jaw, his tea disappearing into the shadows. "That was not your fault. None of this is your fault." Gently, he tilts your head up, ducking to catch your eyes.
"But, if… if I wasn't there it wouldn't have happened. She never would have been kicked out," you insist quakily.
Taking a deep breath, Azriel closes his eyes. Your pulse thunders, hot tears burning behind her eyes. It really shouldn't surprise you; despite his flowery language, he can't deny that. Still, the jagged bond writhes in your chest, the hollowness in your stomach growing.
"Y/N," he says softly, his eyes opening, lined with silver tears. "My kind, sweet, beautiful, selfless Y/N." He smiles shakily as your face heats. He forces himself to take another deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. "Your presence may have been a catalyst, but her actions, her words, are hers and hers alone. It is her responsibility to bear, my beloved. Not yours. Never yours."
Your breath picks up, faster and shallower than before. Azriel's fingers tense against your cheeks, his jaw ticking as he studies your face. Stiffly, you force yourself to nod once, just to put him at ease. It works, his hands and shoulders relax a fraction, a sigh escaping him.
"It looked like you wanted to kill her," you breathe, voice steadier than you felt.
Azriel tenses again, eyes widening as they flicker across your face. You know of his job, of course, heard the stories that circulate about the… less savory aspects. Today was the first time seeing him fight, watching as the kind, gentle shadowsinger morphed into the deadly Spymaster. You thought it would scare you, distantly you were aware it should scare you, but it hadn't. Fear had been coursing through your veins, but Azriel was never the cause. Rather, it had fascinated you in a way you don't think it should; it made somewhere deep inside of you feel… safe.
You keep your face neutral, waiting patiently. It was a part of himself he hasn't shared with you and you aren't going to force him. You know all too well what it must feel like, to keep something secret for fear of rejection. But it was different, you reason; he has a family who has stuck by his side, while you… The only constant you have is Madja and you suspect she only tolerates you because you pay for her tonics.
"I… I considered it," Azriel admits in a tight breath.
Your lips pull upward in a small, shaky smile, his eyes track the movement, brows furrowing. Slowly, you lean in, watching him closely, your lips pressing softly onto his cheek when he doesn't pull away. His body shudders, wings twitching from the slots carved in the couch.
You pull back a fraction, smile steadying, his head turning slightly, your eyes meeting his hazel ones again. Mentally, you map every line, ridge, diamond, and fleck, noting the hundreds of colors that appear to glow in the sunlight.
Hesitantly, you lean in again, gaze flickering to his lips. His fingers tense against your cheeks, a soft breath escapes him as his lips twitch upwards. For a moment, your lips just brush each other, both your breaths already quickening in the shared air. The touch sent a painful shiver up your spine that you ignore. The shadows dance excitedly, urging you both closer. Time seems to slow, your very being gravitating to him, the bond clawing in your chest, begging for your mate's touch.
Drifting forward, your lips slot perfectly in his. You both sigh in relief, lips languidly beginning to move as one. The shadows take your tea and your hands immediately come to lightly grip his shirt, pulling his body flush to yours. The bond roars in triumph, heat pouring into your stomach and somewhere lower, demanding more. Carefully, you pull back before the need fully overtakes you, the bond screaming in protest.
Leaning your forehead against his, you both smile, cheeks flush. "I'll be honest," Azriel pants, a hand tucking a small lock of your hair back, "that's not how I thought you would react."
Your brows furrow, smile dimming slightly. "It wasn't too much, was it?" you ask quickly, trying to pull away.
Azriel's grip keeps you in place, shaking his head as your mouth opens again. "It was perfect," he breathes, pressing forward until his lips meet yours again for a brief moment. "You are perfect."
You relax into him, eyes fluttering closed, limbs heavy, even as your mind spirals, fighting against his words. Once he finds out about your condition, about the bond, this… fantasy he made of you will crash and he will leave. You're sure of it. Everyone has before him. Why should he stoop so low as to accept you? You who are weak, uneducated, poor, who has spent the past 24 hours ruining different parts of his life. How he was not embarrassed by you already, you don't know. It was only a matter of time, you concluded the night you met him in Madja's clinic, before he left you for someone better, as is his right.
"I wish I got to meet your family," Azriel murmurs, breaking your thoughts.
Your eyes snap open, pulling back sharply, wincing at the shooting pain up your spine. "W-what?" you breathe.
Azriel's brows furrow, his hands dropping. You had told him that you grew up at the Silver Oaks Orphanage when he asked about your family in the past. The words had stuttered out, face flushed with shame. Az had simply taken your hands, gently explaining how the Lady Nyssa had all but adopted both him and the General. He had never pushed or asked for an explanation.
His soft smile remains, a hand gently reaching up to grasp your wrist, thumb running tender circles along your pulse point. "Your parents, my love," he tries again. "I wish I could meet the fae who blessed me with you."
Heat flares up your neck and cheeks, you shift away, the shadows stilling around the room. You don't remember much about your parents, but you remember their voices, the disappointment, the disbelief, the yelling. They still echo through your dreams, along with your begging; begging them to believe you, that you weren't trying to get out of work. Mostly, you remember their silence, their disbelief in Madja's diagnoses. Then they were gone, leaving you with the old healer, refusing to take you back.
You still see them every once in a while, your parents and siblings, selling their crops in the market. You're always careful to stay away from their stall.
A tear burns a path down your cheek, you pull your hands away from him, furiously wiping your face. Azriel's smile fades. "If- if you truly want to, then we can- I mean, you are- if they–" you stammer, breaths coming too fast, too shallow, before you stop yourself.
They don't want you, never have, why would that change now? And if they told Azriel why they left you behind, he would just follow suit. Your breath shudders, the bond roiling at the thought.
"Hey, hey," Azriel chides gently, taking your hands in his, guiding them away from your face. "Breathe, my love," he commands softly. Shadows press in around you, whispering against your skin, a light grounding weight on the back of your neck. They pulse against you, slow and steady, miming a deep breath.
You do your best to copy, focusing on their steady weight against you, on the light brush of Azriel's thumb on the back of your hand. It takes several moments, but your breathing does start to even, although your heart continues to pound against your ribs. "That's it, beloved. That's it," he encourages. "What were you trying to say?"
Lips trembling, you force a steady breath, eyes focusing on where his hands hold yours. "It's just…" you push past the lump in your throat. "They own a farm, maybe two hours from the city. It- if you t-truly want to meet…" you trail off as his hands tense around yours.
His brows cinch, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "They're still alive?" He asks, voice almost a growl. Flinching slightly, you nod. "And… you were raised at Silver Oaks?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, but it remains low.
Slowly, you nod, breath shuddering again. "They- I–" you stammer. "I was six when… when they…" you couldn't get the words out, eyes closing as more tears fall, missing how Azriel's eyes darken.
"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, voice cracking.
Slowly, he gathers you into his arms, drawing you to his chest. Placing a tender kiss on your hair, he holds you as you attempt to keep your breathing even. "I was too much," you admit thickly through your tears. Azriel goes still beneath you, but you keep your eyes closed, basking in his warmth, his wing curling around you. "I couldn't help on the farm, so I wasn’t worth keeping," you repeat, the threat constantly thrown your way until they made good on that promise.
Azriel's breathing picks up slightly, but he stays eerily still beneath you. You take another breath, the shadows nudging you encouragingly. Exhaustion pulls on the edges of your mind, dampening the walls you normally keep around the memories. "I- I was no use to them," you heard yourself saying, "not after Madja–"
A loud knock echoes through the apartment. Your words die as you stiffen in Azriel's hold, eyes snapping open. The shadows still around you, their indistinct voice shifting from soft whispers to a harsh hiss. Azriel tenses beneath you, blinking the silver from his eyes, gaze hardening at the door.
You are both silent for a long moment, barely breathing before the knock sounds again. "Az," the High Lord's voice is dampened through the wood, low and hoarse, almost tired, "it's me."
You scramble in Azriel's hold, sitting up as much as you can, ignoring the rippling pain along your spine. Azriel's arms remain firm, not caging you, but keeping you close. Your heart thunders, eyes flickering wildly across the room. Instinctively, you grip tightly onto Azriel, pressing back into him. Your breath comes fast and shallow, a few hot tears burning your cheeks. The shadows flock to you even as their swirling ceases.
Azriel pulls you back into his chest. You don't resist, nearly collapsing back into him. Your body trembles in his hold, the High Lord's accusations from the night before echoing in your head. Rubbing a hand along your arm, Azriel gently shushes you, his shadows running along your body. "It's okay, my love," he hushes, voice barely a breath. "If he doesn't hear us, he might just leave." Azriel tries to add some levity to his voice, but it remains tense.
Your gaze slides to him, blinking rapidly. "Does that normally work?" you whisper, breathing shakily.
"Az, I know you're in there," the High Lord sighs, his voice echoing through the quiet apartment. "Please, can we talk?"
Azriel lets out a long, controlled breath. "Worth a shot," he mumbles. You try to laugh, it coming out a huff through your tight chest.
Slowly, carefully, Azriel shifts to settle you on the couch next to him. Grabbing your hands in one of his, he gently tilts your head until you're looking him in the eyes. "Listen to me, my love," he whispers, his gaze searching yours. "You don't owe him anything. You don't have to talk to him or even see him if you don't want to." You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to nod. A muscle feathers in his jaw. He leans in, pressing a long, gentle kiss to your cheek. "I'll deal with him," he says, voice low as he pulls away.
Slowly, Azriel stands, stalking towards the door. The shadows surround you tightly, whispering against your skin. Your hands shake, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you force your breath to remain calm. You stand, mostly unaware of the action, turning towards the door, drawing the shawl around you tightly.
The door swings open silently, and you have to take a step to the side to see around Azriel. The High Lord stood in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes, a hand running through his hair. Azriel studies him, keeping his wings drawn tight. Rhysand lets out a relieved breath, smiling weakly at his brother. "I wasn't sure you were going to answer," he admits softly.
"I almost didn't," Azriel retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.
Rhysand nods slowly, licking his lips. "I…" he starts, sighing softly. "I want to apologize."
You watch in silence, hugging yourself in the shadows' embrace as Azriel scoffs. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
"I know," Rhysand says, pursing his lips. "But, showing up at her place unannounced didn't seem like the best course of action," he chuckles breathlessly.
Azriel growls, taking a step towards his High Lord. Rhysand's voice fades and he tenses, squaring his shoulders, almost like he's preparing for an attack. "And you thought showing up here unannounced was better?"
The High Lord flinches slightly. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have… fuck," he breathes, running his hand through his hair again. "Can I please just speak with her? To apologize and explain."
Your breathing is still heavy and your pulse echoes in your ears, even as the shadows attempt to guide you towards the couch again. "What is there to explain, Rhys?" Azriel snarls, hands clenching at his sides. "You made your opinion very clear last night."
Rhysand lets out a heavy breath, nodding slowly. "I–"
"She doesn't want to see you," Azriel continues, cutting him off. Your grip on your shawl tightens.
"But–"
"No," Azriel barks, wings extending slightly, blocking your view of the male he considers a brother. "She does not want to see you. You don't get to argue your way out of that, Rhysand. If you have something you want to say to her, then tell me and I can pass it along."
You take a step back, your calves hitting the low coffee table behind you. The shadows rush to stabilize you, the soft thud echoing through the apartment. Azriel stills, head whipping towards you, his hard expression softening slightly, his wings extending further, almost hitting the walls. A hand flies to your mouth as if that will soften the sound, neck and cheeks heating, your back protesting the shock. Gently, the shadows guide you away from the table, but you can't bring yourself to sit despite their prompting, so you stand next to the couch, eyes fixed on the rug beneath you that doesn't look like it's from the Night Court; Summer Court maybe, or Day.
"She's here," Rhys breathes, somewhere between a statement and a question. Azriel's gaze returns to him, a low growl rumbling through his chest.
You can hear the High Lord shifting on the other side of Azriel as your mate squares his shoulders. "Just say what you came here to say, Rhysand," he demands, forcing his wings to fold just enough to provide you a sliver to see the High Lord.
Rhysand tracks the movement, eyes finding you almost immediately, a long, careful breath escaping him. "Look, I… I am sorry. Truly. I jumped to a conclusion and refused to be swayed when it turned out to be wrong. I never should have spoken to you like that, never should have… interrogated in such a way, never… well, there are quite a few things I should have done differently," he admits, just loud enough for you to hear. Your grip tightens around your shawl, the other hand coming down to wrap around your middle, eyes stinging.
"It's just…" he continues, voice bordering on desperate, "you have to understand. I've known Az since we were children. He's my brother in all but blood. In many ways, I know him better than I know myself. And I know that when he loves, he does so with his whole self, willing to put everything on the line for those he cares for," Rhysand pauses, taking another breath, eyes flickering to Azriel. "And there… there have been times when that has been used against him, against the Court." Your eyes jump to Azriel, his back still turned to you, wings almost fully tucked in, but his shoulders tense.
Pursing his lips, Rhysand looks back to you, your wide eyes meeting his for a brief moment before they drop again. "I will always do what I need to, to protect my family and my Court. So, when I recognized you as the one who had the private meeting with Theason, I wrongfully assumed the past was repeating. I pushed because I thought I could catch you in what I assumed to be a lie. And when one of the first things you answered was something we were explicitly told by our healer not to do, I thought I had."
Rhysand's eyes close for a moment, his lips pursed. Your breath picks up slightly, a few tears falling. "But then, you went into your reasonings and… either you were a really good liar, or you were telling the truth and Feyre, my mate, suffered from something with such a simple solution because we…. because I refused to look in the right places. I needed you to be lying just to prove that we didn't miss anything, that we did all we could, that what happened to Feyre was inevitable, and the only thing I could point to was your meeting with Thesan."
The High Lord chuckles drily, running a hand over his face. "Of course you can't tell us specifics of what you spoke about with him. I know how confidentiality works, and I used that against you. I am deeply sorry."
Quiet breaths shake your frame. Azriel turns slowly, watching you with a carefully neutral expression, hands still clenched at his sides. You don't even hear him move, just feel the shadows split apart before his arms wrap around you. You lean into his chest, letting his scent engulf you as you try to control your breathing, keeping your gaze fixed on the rug.
"I am not saying any of this to excuse my words," Rhysand continues. "What I did was inexcusable, but I did just want to give you a bit more context so, hopefully, you can understand where I was coming from. What happened last night, what I did and said, had nothing to do with you and should never have happened. I don't think there are words to express how sorry I am."
Your breath shudders in your chest, Azriel's arm tightening slightly around your waist, and you force yourself to nod, unable to find words. Your head hurts, dry tear tracks mar your face, your thoughts moving like molasses. The muscles in your back rage, begging you to lie down, even Azriel's support only offering slight relief, and all you can focus on is how much you want this to be over.
Rhysand takes another deep breath, nodding stiffly. "You should go," Azriel says, the gentle rumble soothing your frayed nerves.
"Yeah, of course," Rhysand agrees. His eyes find you once more. "We are having a birthday dinner for Az next week. You are welcome to come, Y/N. Only if you want, we understand if not." He gives you a sheepish smile before turning to leave. The shadows make quick work of closing the door behind him.
Your body falls into Azriel, knees buckling beneath you. Azriel doesn't flinch, gingerly guiding you back to the couch and gathering you into his lap. Your muscles ease slightly, but are still tense in his hold. Azriel sits too still beneath you; his only movements are his careful breaths and a hand rubbing soft circles along your upper back.
Everything around you feels distant and out of focus. The feel of your mate's body and his scent are the only things that feel real. Distantly, you are aware of what emotions you should be feeling: disbelief, anger, guilt, and shame, but it all feels so far away. Azriel's voice cuts through the fog gently. "I'm sorry," he breathes into your hair. "I've got you, my love."
The shadows trace gentle patterns up your arms and around your neck, and you melt further into the haze, taking comfort in the nothingness. Somewhere out there you feel the shadows guide Azriel's hands to better support your strained back, although even the pain in your back feels distant; it wasn't often that you are able to remove yourself so fully, so you embrace the opportunity.
Exhaustion pulls on your mind as you nestle further into your mate's chest. The High Lord's voice echoes through your mind, most of it disjointed and muffled, but one part breaks through. "Someone hurt you?" you ask, tongue heavy in your mouth, your words barely a breath.
For a moment, you don't think Azriel hears you. He doesn't react, tracing soft circles along your back and arms. Azriel stiffens slightly after a few seconds, the meaning of your words dawning on him, his hands hesitating for a brief moment before continuing on their paths. "Out of everything Rhys said, that is your first question?" he asks teasingly, but his voice is strained. Your grip on him tightens and Azriel lets out a long, slow breath. "It was a long time ago, my love," he admits softly, his arms tightening around you.
Carefully, you turn your head to look up at him, the odd angle angering your already inflamed muscles. "Where are they now?" you demand in a whisper.
Azriel looks down at you, wetting his lips, eyes softening. "Gone."
"Gone?" you repeat.
Studying you carefully, Azriel nods slowly. "Dead," he amends, voice clipped, adjusting his hold on you but not letting go. "She's dead."
Something odd settles in your chest at his words: relief and satisfaction and something almost protective. Nodding stiffly, you settle your head back on his chest, eyes fluttering closed. "Good."
————
Fun fact: the original plan was to have Rhys appear unannounced at her door. But then I thought about it and realized Az wouldn't leave her alone after the dinner and the training, so… here we are. The conversation had to be reworked with Az, but it gets us where we need to go in the end.
Please do not repost my work or feed it into AI, you do not have my permission for that!! Blurb requests are open, feel free to send ideas and concepts in!
─── ⋆ SERIES ⋆
THROUGH THE ECHOES ★𖤓♡ — What began as a mirthroot-laced mistake on Azriel’s twenty-third birthday unraveled into something far more dangerous — a five-centuries-long secret situationship and the entire course of your lives changed. [Coming soon!]
SUMMARY: What began as a mirthroot-laced mistake on Azriel’s twenty-third birthday unraveled into something far more dangerous — a centuries-long secret situationship.
WARNINGS: This series includes angst, fluff, smut, mirthroot consumption, mentions of abusive relationships, Amarantha's reign, fwb situationships, miscommunication, ect. Minors DNI!
PAIRING: Azriel x Reader
STATUS: Coming soon!
─── ⋆ CHAPTERS ⋆
PART ONE ★ — When Cassian throws a party for Azriel in Windhaven, you and Az escape with a gift of mirthroot. However, what comes next changes the path of your entire lives. You're just not aware of it yet. (Coming soon!)
If anyone would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know :)
Summary: Following the disaster that was the family dinner, you still find yourself at Valkyrie training the next morning. What could go wrong?
A/N: Okay, so, this part was supposed to be a shorter part, some fluff, the calm before the storm type thing. But then I started writing and the training scene became… well, not that. I ended up splitting what was part 3 into two parts, so now, we're up to 6 total with the epilogue. We still get some fluff, just with a bit more angst to go along with it. (This tends to be what happens when I write fluff, so I'm not sure why I am surprised). Thank you so much for all your support. I never would have guessed this fic would garner so much attention and you all mean the world to me.
You would think someone who does martial arts knows how to write a training scene, but here we are. I also made some decisions about some of Reader's favorite foods; I was hungry while writing and didn't want to change it. I will not be apologizing.
Also, something random I noticed while writing this part: the Night Court doesn't seem very… nocturnal to me. I'm sure other people have said something along these lines in the past, but it does kind of bug me that everything in the Night Court happens in the day. I noticed it when I was almost done with this part and I wasn't about to rewrite it to fix it, but… will probably try to incorporate that more in future fics set in the Night Court.
Word Count: almost exactly 9K
Warnings: Reader has chronic pain (I'm trying to keep it accurate, but just in case: any medical inaccuracies are due to the fact that Reader is fae and not human and should be attributed to the biological differences between the two species), semi-unreliable narrator, feeling insecure, not as much angst, talk of pregnancies and complications during pregnancies (see previous note about medical inaccuracies, but with more fae and magic nonsense), discussions of money using a made up monetary system (just go with it, for all our sakes), Rhysand means well, sort of
Part 2 | Part 4
————
The bag felt heavy in Azriel's hand, his shadows swirling restlessly around him like they had all night. Staring at your door, he takes a deep breath, feeling like a juvenile again, working up the courage to knock on your door. He had remained outside all night, watching from the roof of the neighboring building, a spot specifically chosen so he could see through the window above your counters; he can see almost your whole apartment.
By the time he returned, you were already curled up in your bed, sobs still wracking your body, the few shadows Azriel left behind caressing your skin, trying to comfort you. He longed to go to you, to hold you in his arms and tell you it would all be okay. He wanted to be the one to comfort you, instead of his shadows, and assure you that he wasn't going anywhere. But you made your decision clear earlier, and he wasn't about to cross any of your boundaries. So, he sat and kept guard even after the lights in your apartment flickered off.
He had only left his spot when the first rays of the sun touched the horizon, sending a few more of his shadows over to you, quickly making his way to the House of the Wind. Unsurprisingly, Cassian was the only one awake; as much as he complained about sleep, he is still a soldier and the three of them spent years in Windhaven waking up before the sun, the routine a hard one to break. The general straightened, slowly looking up from the report spread out on his desk. "Az," he breathed, pushing his seat back to stand. "We are so s-"
"Y/N is coming to training this morning," Azriel interrupted, muscles taught.
Cassian stilled, studying his brother carefully. "Oh, that's–"
"Not because she wants to," Azriel continued, taking a step into the office, "but because she said she would after you pressured her. And she keeps her promises, even when she would rather do anything else."
Sucking in a breath, Cassian moved around his desk, raising his hands. "I know I messed up," he admitted, "I'm sorry, even if that wasn't my–"
"This is your second chance," Azriel growled, shadows rising around him. "You and Nesta. Don't even think about telling the others."
Azriel didn't wait for a response before making his way out of the House, brushing past a freshly awake Nesta, not acknowledging her when she calls his name.
His next stop was a local restaurant, one closer to your home, that was open for a few more hours to serve the few fae in Velaris that are up during the day. He knows your order by heart, your favorite dish, drink, and pastry. The two of you had only gone to this place twice before, with you noting it as your favorite, even if it was smaller and less fancy like places Azriel normally goes to with his family. Owned by a family who makes simple food from scratch, Azriel had come to like the place, despite his limited number of visits.
The bag is warm in his hand, the dishes carefully balanced with the drinks resting on top. The shadows curl tighter around him when he lifts his hand, the knock echoing through the small hallway.
Something tumbles on the other side of your door, a small gasp barely heard through the wood. Feet shuffle against the floor, pausing just past the door. Azriel loosens the leash on his shadows, allowing some of them to slide under the door, announcing his presence. The door unlocks a moment later, and it takes a few seconds for you to open the door as the hinges stick despite all of the lubricant Azriel's shadows had added to them the past few months.
The door only opens a crack, just enough for you to peak through. "Hi, sweetheart," he says gently, trying to smile, ignoring the thunderous beat of his heart. "Would you like some breakfast?" he asks, gesturing to the bag slightly with his head.
Even through the small crack, he can see how you keep your eyes lowered. Pursing your lips, he catches the way your nose twitches, taking in the delicious smells, and your stomach rumbles quietly in response. His shadows grumbled most of the night about how you never ate dinner, not that Az had either. His smile softens watching the flush creep up your next as you nod. It takes another minute for you to get the door all the way open so Azriel can get inside with his wings.
Azriel's breath caught when it is, finally able to fully see you. Dark bags fill the space under your red rimmed eyes. A grey shawl pulled taught around your shoulders, holes littering the fabric, over your soft green dress, the hem fraying. Hair pulled back in two braided plaits that become one swaying at your back. You are beautiful, the most beautiful fae he has ever seen.
Arms hugging yourself, you step aside, sitting on your bed just beside the door. Keeping his wings tucked in tight, Azriel ducks his head, slowly entering the small apartment. It wasn't even a proper apartment in Azriel's opinion. Just a single room with barely enough space for a bed, a chest for your belongings, the smallest table Azriel has ever seen, a small counterspace that 'counts' as a kitchen despite the barely functioning stove top and the lack of an oven and sink, and a toilet tucked in the corner. Not that the toilet works, since the building doesn't have running water; you have a jug leaning against the counter that needs to be filled at the local well a few blocks away.
Keeping his head down to not hit the ceiling, Azriel silently begins unpacking the food on the table, handing you the cup of tea.
Azriel hates this place. The building isn't far from where Nesta's old apartment once stood, but even that was infinitely better than this. He so desperately wants for you to move somewhere better, somewhere safer. With him or not, he doesn't care. He hinted at it a few times, but it wasn't long into your relationship that he noticed how insecure you were about… well, everything when it came to him. He had yet to find a good way to bring it up without you taking it the wrong way.
Carefully, Azriel hands a container with lemon rosemary chicken with roasted sweet potatoes. It wasn't a dish that Azriel typically associates with breakfast, but with the smile tugging on your lips when you take the first bite he finds he doesn't care. With no chairs in your apartment, he slowly sits down next to you on the bed, the edge of his wing brushing lightly against you. You shiver at the touch, eyes closing in a wince and you take a few breaths before opening them again. You don't pull away though, and Azriel doesn't either, even as he tenses next to you.
The shadows spill from Az after he settles, his food, a hearty wrap of eggs, potatoes, cheese, veggies, and sausage, in his lap. You chuckle lightly as they wind their way up your body, simply lifting your arms to grant them better access. Azriel smiles, watching fondly. "Let her eat," he commands softly, but he makes no effort to actually pull them back. They slow slightly, allowing you to lower your arms, but do not part from you, not that Az blames them.
You eat in silence, Azriel watching each bite from the corner of his eye, something in him easing the more you eat. It is comfortable, something you both grew used to through the months, these moments of peaceful silence. There was still a tension in the air, it had Azriel clocking every movement, every sound, every breath, but you both settle into the familiar quiet between you.
It's not long before both of you finish food, the shadows quickly whisk away the containers before encompassing you again as you take the last sips of your tea. "Thank you," you say quietly. For a moment, Az thinks you're speaking to the shadows, until your eyes catch his.
It’s the first time this morning you let yourself look at him, truly look at him, and Azriel's face warms, a smile pulling on his lips. Slowly, he reaches a hand around to settle on your waist and gently pulls you to his side. A giggle escapes your lips, a hand reaching out to steady yourself against him, your tea disappearing into the shadows. One of Azriel's wings extends around you, the tip of his wing resting near the edge of the bed. Relief floods through Azriel when you lay your head on his chest, your body melting into his as easily as breathing, tension leaving both of you. The shadows swarm over both of you, sighing contently. "Of course," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, letting his lips linger there for a second.
He lets out a long, quiet breath, burying his nose in your hair, taking in your scent. The fear gripping his heart slowly melting away. You had let him in, let him feed you, let him touch you, and now you let yourself rest and mold into him like you belong there. And, by the gods, you do, if Azriel has anything to say about it. "Gods, I love you," he breathes.
You stiffen for just a moment, but he can feel it. Closing his eyes, Azriel kisses your hair again, soft but insistent, fingers tracing soft patterns on your side. You relax again just as quickly, pressing your head harder into his chest. "Please, don't leave," you breathe, so softly Azriel would not have heard it if not for his shadows, your voice thick with unshed tears.
Azriel's arm tightens around you slightly, keeping you tucked into him, a wave of dread crashing over him. After spending all night scared you would leave him… of course you would have the same fear. It was his family, his brother, that treated you so terribly. Not just his brother, but the High Lord who made such vile accusations against you. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner, the words you said last night suddenly feeling like the twisting of a knife.
"Never," he assures you, pushing past the lump forming in his throat. The single word hangs heavy in the air, an oath wrapping around the two of you, engraving itself into Azriel's very soul. A promise not compelled by magic, but just as binding. "Not until you ask me to."
A sound escapes you, a half laugh, half sob, as your hand comes up, grabbing a handful of his shirt. Az is distantly aware of the wet patch on the fabric from your tears, but he doesn't care. He shushes you gently, continuing to trace soothing circles along your side. His free hand gently untangles yours from his chest, allowing your fingers to interweave. Placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, he lets them settle over his heart, still beating a bit too quickly in his chest.
Your tears subside, but neither of you move, content to just be in each other's arms for a little while longer. The world seems to fade away, Azriel barely aware of anything that's not the feeling of you in his arms, against his side, the sounds of your breath, or the shadows swirling around whispering of your every move.
"You don't have to come," Azriel whispers into your hair, opening his eyes, a part of himself hating to break the tender peace surrounding you, "if you don't want to."
You stiffen again, lifting your head slightly to turn to look at him. Azriel's breath hitches, your wide eyes still red and cheeks stained with tears, yet your beauty still takes his breath away. "I said I would," you say.
A small smile pulls on Azriel's lips, his heart tightening at the words, even if he knew you would say that. "I know, but no one will blame you if you change your mind, my love," he encourages gently. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Your brows furrow, eyes drifting down. He can see you thinking it over and a part of him prays that you will take the out, not because he doesn't want you there, but because you would have never agreed on your own. "But I said I would," you repeat in a whisper. Your eyes drift up to his, uncertainty shining through as your hand tightens around his. "Unless… I'm no longer welcome."
Azriel's heart cracks at the waver in your voice. "Of course you are welcome," he promises, his own hand tightening for just a moment. "But you don't need to worry about them. What do you want to do?"
"I–" you start, licking your lips, eyes searching Azriel's as if they would give you the answer. Azriel forces his face to remain neutral, with just a small encouraging smile, even as every part of him wants to keep you here in his arms, away from anything that could harm you or make you vaguely uncomfortable.
Slowly, you turn your face from him, settling your cheek against the wet fabric on his chest once more. You take a slow breath and Azriel can feel the resignation overtake your body as you rest against him. "I promised."
Hot tears burn behind Azriel's eyes as they flutter shut. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he nods despite the pit forming in his stomach. "Okay, my love," he breathes, leaning down and placing another soft kiss to your hair. "Okay."
—
Azriel has always been observant, the natural consequence of having shadows whispering in his ear for as long as he can remember, but he doesn't think he's been this aware before. Aware of everyone, every move they made, every whispered word. He tries to focus on the small group of Priestesses he is working with as they finish their stretches and begin to pair off to begin the first of the combinations they go over, aimed to help them get used to moving their bodies and maintaining balance. Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing to the side every few minutes, eyes catching on where you sit on the edge of the training ring.
You wrap the shawl around you tighter, arms hugging your middle tightly. He can almost feel it, the quick pace of your heart, the thoughts swirling through your head, the emotions roiling through you, inadequacy, shame, and a deep sorrow. Mostly, you keep your eyes down, or away from him as you watch the priestesses carefully.
A few times he caught your eyes flickering to where Cassian and Nesta stood on the other side of the courtyard. They only smiled when Azriel arrived with you in his arms, Nesta already talking intently with Gwen and Emerie. Az was thankful they didn't try to talk or come up to you. He wasn't sure if he can contain himself if this went badly too.
His shadows whisper of everything in the courtyard, every word, every breath, every movement of a leaf. An overwhelming amount of information Azriel had learned to shift through centuries ago. Even without them, he could feel the eyes of many of the priestesses as they watch him, smiling sweetly at him, sneaking sly glances when they thought he wasn't paying attention, and sharing quiet giggles. It was something that happens at each of these training sessions he helps with; some of the more bold would even try to flirt with him, not that he ever returned their advances, but he always thought it was harmless.
He curses himself for the thought now, their quiet laughter burning his ears, each of their too-kind smiles seem to dig him deeper into a hole of his own making. He knows you see it, can hear it all. Thank the Mother none of them had tried to come up to him today. Maybe the Priestesses can feel it too, the tension lining his muscles, the unnatural jerkiness to the shadows' movements, or perhaps they see how some of his shadows refuse to leave you, gently swirling up your back and playing with your hair. Or it might be the way he angles himself to keep you in his line of sight, the way his eyes constantly flicker to you.
Azriel tries to coach the Priestesses, but everything in him keeps drawing him back to you. You shift against the hard stone bench, shadows swarming to apply pressure on a particular point of your back, some even maneuvering their way beneath you, to act as a cushion. Azriel purses his lips, wishing he had thought to bring out a better place for you to sit other than the cold stone. The shadows hiss in his ear relaying your discomfort, the pit in Azriel's stomach only growing.
Several choice words come to mind for his brothers, for himself; all of this could have been avoided if he never brought you to that dinner. He had known, on some level, that it was a disaster in the making, but he had wanted so badly for all the people he loves to get along he had ignored it. He never wanted you to feel pressured into doing anything for him, and yet you had gone to the dinner, and was humiliated by his family. And now, even after that, you forced yourself to come to another thing you never would have agreed to on your own, an invitation you had denied initially, because it's what you thought his family wanted from you.
Maybe is something you believe he wants from you. Something inside of him twists at the thought.
"Um, Azriel… sir." Azriel's gaze snaps to one of the newer priestesses, having joined the Valkyries only a few weeks ago. Juliana smiles sweetly as she approaches, her eyes raking over Azriel. He suppresses a shiver, stomach souring under her gaze. He doesn't respond, just nods, trying to make himself relax slightly, despite the shadows continuing to whisper in his ears. "Can you please help with this move? I can't seem to get it right."
Stiffly, he nods, silently ordering his shadows away, not needing any more distractions. They skitter away, almost gladly if Azriel didn't know any better, all quickly making their way to engulf you, preening at your small smile as you watch them flock to your rigid form.
Julianna's eyes flicker, following the retreating shadows, her smile dropping for a moment when she sees their destination. A snarl builds in Azriel, he has to fight to keep it contained. Instead, he clears his throat, drawing the priestess's attention back to him, lifting an eyebrow. "Go on," he says simply, forcing his tone to remain neutral. Julianna's smile returns, gesturing for him to follow her to her partner, Mica.
Azriel keeps a respectful distance, clasping his hands behind his back, wings drawn in tight, forcing his gaze to remain on their forms and not sneaking back to you. He corrects with a low voice and gentle directions. Despite what she may think, Julianna is not subtle in her attempts to get his attention, purposefully fumbling through the moves.
Carefully, Azriel side steps Julianna's attempt to fall into him, barely catching herself from crashing into the ground. Crossing his arms, Azriel takes a controlled breath. "If you are not going to take this seriously, then I suggest taking a step back and let me focus on those who are," he says, voice struggling to remain respectful.
Julianna turns to him, dusting off her clothes. "You think I'm not?"
"Yesterday, you completed the sequence perfectly fine multiple times, and now you want me to believe you cannot keep your balance?" Azriel responds, raising his eyebrows. Distantly he is aware of how still you are, watching the exchange, and can see Mica shifting uncomfortably a few feet away.
For a moment, Julianna gapes at him before straightening, flicking her braided hair over her shoulder with a scoff. "Well, if I had known weak, helpless females are what got you going, I never would have joined," Julianna retorts.
"Juli!" Mica gasps. Around them, movement stops, turning to stare at Julianna, wide eyes flickering between her, Azriel and where you sit on the sidelines, the shadows hissing loudly as they engulf you further.
"Excuse me?" Azriel growls, taking a step towards her, hands coiling at his side. Behind him, gravel crunches and Azriel has just enough awareness to recognize Cassian and Nesta's footsteps.
Julianna rolls her eyes. "Don't deny it, we all see the way you look at her," she sneers, gesturing in your direction. "You deserve so much better. The strongest warriors need an equally strong partner. I mean, just look at the High Lord and the General. Do you really think she could be that for you? She didn't even do the basic stretches."
For a moment, the training ring was silent, Julianna's words echoing off the walls, shadows seeping through the stonework, eerily still. A snarl tears from Azriel's throat, Julianna's eyes going wide as he lunges for her. Cassian's moves quickly, stepping in front of his brother, holding him back. Azriel struggles against him, pure anger and instinct begging to be free, to tear into the being who insulted you.
Cassian curses, eyes widening on the shadows slinking their way across the floor, his grip loosening just enough to let Azriel slip free. "Move!" Cassian bellows to the priestesses, who quickly run to the walls of the training ring. Nesta grips Julianna's arm, dragging her out of the ring and out of Azriel's eyeline. Wildly, Azriel's eyes search for her, but Cassian is faster, keeping himself in Azriel's vision, arms once again reaching out to his brother. "Az, you need to calm down."
Azriel just growls, charging at Cassian. It wasn't much of a fight, the two Illyrians grappling each other on the ground. The general pins Azriel to the ground quickly; despite his rage and strength Azriel isn't thinking clearly enough for a proper fight, especially when his brother is not the cause of his ire this time. "Az," Cassian tries again, teeth gritted, blood streaming from his mouth. "Y/N doesn't need this."
At the sound of your name, the world slowly began to come back into focus. His grip on Cassian's leathers loosens, his breathing ragged. Azriel growls weakly, but takes a deep breath, forcing himself to let go of Cassian, letting his head drop to the stone ground, cursing hoarsely.
A part of him can hear Nesta's yelling. "How dare you? In what world would any of that be an appropriate thing to say?"
Julianna scoffs. "I just said what we're all thinking?"
Cassian's grip tightens on Azriel, but Az doesn't move, his eyes fluttering closed. Anger still burns in his chest, quickly overcome by a flood of guilt. Eyes snapping open, Az quickly scans the edge of the training ring, heart dropping when you are nowhere to be seen. "Y/N," he rasps, hands moving to push himself up.
Brows furrowing, Cassian follows his gaze, cursing softly. Slowly, the general moves, watching Azriel carefully as he stands. Shadows tug at Azriel's wrists, guiding him through the training ring, barely aware of the eyes on him as he stumbles forward.
"We are not going to put up with this." Nesta's voice echoes around the space, everyone else quietly watching. Azriel hears the words, but they might as well be a foreign language. "You are no longer welcome."
"What?" Julianna asks with a disbelieving breath. "You can't do that."
"Yes, I can," Nesta retorts as Azriel rounds a corner, unable to hear the rest of her reply.
Azriel's mind swam, letting his body be led by his shadows, not paying attention to where they were taking him. Some part of him is aware that Cassian stops following when he leaves the training ring, he can distantly hear his brother's voice agreeing with his mate. But none of that matters, not now. Not when you disappeared.
A hand rakes over Azriel's face, hot tears burning behind his eyes. This was all his fault. First last night, and now this. Gods, how could you want to stay with him after this? He brought you into two aspects of his life and they both reject you quickly, on no uncertain terms, making their dislike of you painfully obvious.
Or worse, you might think he doesn't want you anymore. His chest aches at the thought.
He wants to kill them, Rhysand, Julianna, everyone who speaks ill of you. He doesn't care. But he needs you; needs to see you, touch you, assure himself you are okay, needs to assure you that he's not going anywhere. His heart cracks thinking back to only an hour ago, with you wrapped in his arms and wings, and you begged him not to leave. Your voice, so quiet and uncertain, echoes in his mind.
Stumbling again, he steadies himself along the stone wall, struggling to breathe. He can't lose you; the very thought threatens to rip his heart from him. He would rather kill everyone, burn the court to the ground, before he ever lets you go. And if you leave, if that's what you truly want, he will let you go, of course, but gods, he doesn't know if he will survive.
Azriel is only vaguely aware when the tunnel the shadows led him through opens up into a vast garden, one he has not visited in centuries. The shadows hiss in his ear, but he can't make out the words over the sound of his blood rushing. They lead him through a winding path surrounded by carefully maintained trees and flowers. In the center, water flows gently from a grand fountain, and you sit on the edge, hunched over, body shaking with quiet sobs. Shadows swirl restlessly around you, desperately trying to calm you, comfort you.
A quiet breath leaves Azriel, just the sight of you sets his world right again. He breathes your name and you stiffen at the sound. Slowly, he approaches, breath still uneven as he kneels before you, the shadows quick to wrap around him, nestling you both in their soft embrace, keeping the rest of the world away. Hot tears burn Azriel's cheeks, scarred hands shaking, reaching out to grab yours. When you don't pull away, Az lets out a breath that might be a sob, bringing them up to his lips, placing a long, reverent kiss on each.
"I'm sorry, my love," he breathes into your skin. You gasp, gently pulling one hand away and Azriel grasps the one remaining tighter, not enough to hurt you, never to hurt you, but to keep it in his hands, against his lips. "I am so, so sorry."
Your body shakes, free hand sweeping through his hair. "Y- you're bleeding," you whisper through your tears. "Oh- oh, gods, you're hurt, you're–"
"I'm fine," he cuts you off softly, looking up, forcing himself to take a deep breath at the sight of your tears. He places another tender kiss to your hand, watching your eyes remain on the cut, your thumb gently rubbing his temple. "I'm fine, beloved. I promise."
You shake your head, hand dropping, your body shakes even more. He inches forwards, causing your knees to part to make room. His eyes close, content to be surrounded by you, leaning his head slightly into your hand still held by his cheek.
Azriel's brows furrow, something cold and wet pressing gently to his temple. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes, breath hitching. You hold your shawl, wetted by the fountain to his forehead, gently cleaning away the blood. "Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand moving to gently hold your wrist, but he doesn't stop you. "You don't have to do that."
Your breathing stutters, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "You're hurt because of me," you breathe, a sob almost cutting you off. "Because I am- I'm not–"
"No, please," he begs, carefully moving your hand away from his temple, his own tears returning. "Please, don't finish that sentence. Whatever you are going to say, it's not true," he insists, placing a soft, adamant kiss to the wet shawl still clutched in your hand. "You are everything, Y/N. Completely and utterly perfect. Don't believe a word they say."
Your face contorts with another sob, head shaking again. "No, no I'm not. I- I–"
Azriel surges forward, unable to hear you utter another self-deprecating thought. His lips slot between yours, soft and gentle despite his speed, one hand resting on the back of your head to keep you steady, but you can easily pull away if you want. You gasp, body stilling before a whimper escapes you, your lips slowly moving with his. He slows too, matching your pace, pouring all of his reverence and adoration into the kiss, his both hands slowly moving to cup your jaw.
He moans at the feel of your lips against his, at the taste of your tears, but beneath it something so distinctly you it makes his knees weak. You sob into the kiss and Azriel starts to pull away, but your hands grip his leathers, keeping him close, and shifting closer to him. He obliges, letting you direct him, until he's sitting on the ground, back up against the wall of the fountain, and you're straddling him, his wings wrapping lazily around you. The shadows encircle the two of you until there is nothing else, even the sounds of the fountain are muted, a few directing one of hands to rest on a specific point on your back.
It wasn't exactly what Azriel had in mind for your first kiss, having kept himself relegated to your hands and forehead before now. But it is perfect, to be completely surrounded by you, the feel of your body, your taste, your scent.
Panting, you pull back, sucking in lungfuls of air. Azriel doesn't stop, cannot stop, now that he has got a taste of you. His lips gently trail to your jaw down to the curve of your neck. You moan softly, something in Azriel warms at the sound, a smile pulling on his lips as he continues. Slowly, your body melts into him, head tilting ever so slightly to the side, resting in the hand still resting along the opposite side of your jaw.
"Oh, gods, Y/N," he moans between kisses, finding a spot on the juncture of your neck that has you gasping. "Love you so much," he breathes.
"Azriel," you whisper, burying a hand in his hair, leaning to rest your cheek against his ear as he continues to lap at your skin. "I- oh, I love you, Az."
He groans into your skin, slowly moving back up your neck, kissing the underside of your jaw. "Perfect," he mumbles, nipping gently causing your hand to tighten in his hair. "So perfect, my beloved. Never leaving you. I'm yours, always," he promises, lips slotting back between yours, your head still tipped, nearly laying on his shoulder.
"Mine," you murmur against his lips and his smiles into the kiss, his hand pressing firmer into your back. "My m–" You gasp, cutting yourself off, but it sounds different, lower than your previous ones had been. Azriel feels your face scrunch as your body stiffens against him.
Stop! The shadows scream in his ear.
Immediately, Azriel pulls back, brows furrowing. Your head drops, resting your forehead against his shoulder, taking long, slow, measured breaths.
"Y/N?" Azriel asks, panic rising in his chest. The shadows swarm closer, moving Azriel's hand from your back to your waist, and the other from your cheek to the back of your head. They cluster around you, softly massaging along your spine and neck. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
You don't respond slowly relaxing back into his arms, letting out a soft whimper. "I'm sorry," you breathe softly.
"Sh, sh," he hushes, gently pressing a kiss on your head. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he assures you softly. "Are you hurt? Do we need to get Madja?"
Taking a deep breath, you shake your head, just barely but enough. He nods, laying his cheek on your head. "What do you need, my love?"
Your breath stutters, arms slowly encircling his neck. "Just you," you admit quietly.
Warmth floods through Azriel's chest, the hand on your waist tightens gently. "I'm not going anywhere."
The shadows continue to gently swirl across your body. They force Azriel to let go for a moment, and Az has half a mind to growl at his own shadows. Cautiously, they move your legs, until you are sitting sideways across Azriel's lap, your head resting against his shoulder. You whimper again as they move you, Azriel's heart twists, brows furrowing in confusion. You said you aren't hurt, but it sounds like you are in pain. Still, he only whispers quiet assurances in your hair as the shadows settle you back into his lap.
The shadows move his hands again, one resting on your hip, the other wrapping around your middle. Gently, they hiss. Azriel glances at them, frowning. One of your hands rest on Azriel's chest, above his heart, flexing against his leathers as you melt back into him, the pained look on your face softening.
Azriel doesn't know how long the two of you sit there, the shadows constantly hover over you. He continues to whisper gently into your hair, even after your breathing has evened out, exhaustion over taking you.
Reluctantly, the shadows disperse after you fall asleep, slowly returning to hide in the plants. Azriel keeps his wings gently wrapped around you, a soft warmth radiating from the membrane. He tries interrogating his shadows, to learn more about what happened, why you suddenly tensed and looked like you were in pain, but they remain quiet, whispering of other, inconsequential things instead.
Quiet voices float on the wind and Azriel tenses, even if the House of the Wind is one of the safest places in Velaris, it was the very people who have access who hurt you.
"–know this place existed," Nesta's voice drifts in, awe filling her voice. Azriel relaxes slightly, even as his wings wrap tighter around the two of them.
Cassian chuckles lightly, but tension lingers in his tone. "We haven't come back here in a long time. It was Rhys's mother's private garden. There must be some sort of magic taking care of it."
It is only a moment later when the two of them come into view, Nesta's arms wrap around herself, eyes drifting across the trees and plants, Cassian walks in step with her, a gentle hand resting in the small of her back. Cassian sees Azriel first, shoulders relaxing slightly, his face softening. "There you are," he sighs, relief clear in his voice.
Nesta's gaze snaps to Azriel, letting out a quiet breath. "Is Y/N okay?" she asks, softly.
Azriel scans the two of them, and the surrounding gardens, some part of him waiting for a threat to emerge. After a brief moment, Azriel unfurls one of his wings, letting them see your sleeping form, his other wing acting as a blanket. "Don't wake her," he demands quietly. "She didn't sleep well last night."
They both nod, Nesta leaning into Cassian a bit more. "Understandable," she says, glancing up at her mate. "We were hoping to apologize, for… well, for everything. And maybe speak with her a bit more."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Azriel says, fighting to keep the growl out of his voice. "Not today, at least."
"Of course," Cassian responds quickly, a small smile pulling on his lips. "We don't want to pressure her."
They stand in awkward silence for a bit, Azriel's gaze returning to you, your brows furrowing slightly, your body shaking with a deep shuddering breath. Azriel kisses your forehead, barely a brush, and your features smooth again.
"We are sorry," Nesta whispers, watching Azriel, but his eyes never leave you. "For last night, for… for Juliana. I never thought one of the priestesses would say something so cruel."
Azriel doesn't answer, jaw clenching, one hand gently rubbing your arm. His eyes drift up, watching the shadows of the leaves blowing in the wind, loosening his arms when you shift slightly.
"Well, she's still in the library, not much we can do about that," Nesta clarifies with a nod, "but she's no longer welcome with the Valkyries or at training. And Gwen made sure Clotho was informed of what happened."
"W-what?" your voice is hoarse, head lifting slightly, eyes still dazed from sleep.
Azriel shifts, hands rubbing circles on your arm and hip. "Hey," he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your hair. "We didn't mean to wake you." Some of the shadows curl around you, weaving in your hair and between your fingers, before moving to swirl along your back and your neck.
Shakily, you push yourself off of Azriel, just enough for you to move and sit next to him, his wing reluctantly getting out of your way. Azriel misses your warmth and the weight of you against him the moment you leave, he gently entwines one of your hands with his, the need to touch you still humming beneath his skin. "You- you didn't have to do that," you say, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Not for me. I- if she wanted to- to train, you don't need to…" your voice trails off.
Nesta takes a careful step forward, away from Cassian. "If anything, we did it for her safety," she admits with a soft chuckle, glancing over to Azriel. Your gaze flickers to him for a moment, eyes wide. "Besides, like Cassian tried to say last night—"she shoots her mate a playful glare"—being Valkyrie is about helping each other to become stronger, in whatever way most suites them, whether that's training to be a warrior or… well, anything else. If she cannot respect that, then she has no place there. Simple as that."
Your brows furrow. "But–"
"It's the consequence of her actions and her words," Cassian tries gently, "not yours."
Azriel watches you intently as your gaze darts between Cassian and Nesta, your lips pursed, before you nod. Not because you agree with them, Az knows, but because you know they will not change their minds.
Nesta smiles gently, glancing back at Cassian for a moment. "We, um. We actually wanted to ask you a question, if that's okay."
Azriel can feel you stiffen, your hand tightening around his. Even now, with you sitting next to him, he can feel the exhaustion pulling on your mind, and the fear running down your spine at that simple request. "You don't have to answer," Cassian explains, stepping up to his mate, hand returning to her back. "We're just curious, that's all."
Your eyes flicker between them, brows furrowing. Azriel brings your entwined hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly. "You can say no," he offers gently, casting a glare towards his friends, who just nod in response.
Still, your gaze rakes over them slowly, noting Nesta's arms around her front and Cassian's gentle hand on her back, the shifting of both their feet. "Oh," you breathe, sitting up a bit straighter. Azriel's gaze returns to you, your body relaxing slightly as you smile. "Okay, what's the question?"
"How-" Nesta starts, chuckling nervously, "How do you know so much about Illyrian pregnancies?"
A growl rumbles in Azriel's throat, but you laugh softly, nodding. The sound stops him short, head turning towards you, brows narrowing. "Oh, that," you say, letting your legs stretch out slightly in front of you. "Um, so… when the previous High Lord met his mate, he immediately hired a midwife from Velaris to care for her during her future pregnancies."
Cassian eyes widen. "Priya," he says quickly. You nod slowly, smiling softly. "I remember her, she was around for Selene's birth."
Az nods too, licking his lips. "Yes. Rhys tried to contact her when they first learned of Feyre's pregnancy, but he couldn’t find her."
"She died," you say simply, voice lowering slightly. "During the attor attack." Cassian hums thoughtfully. "But when she was first hired by the former High Lord, he sent her to live in one of the Illyrian camps for almost a year to learn from the midwives there," you explain softly. "And when she was done, he had her spend a few months in each court, I think a little longer in Dawn, to learn from midwives who work with different types of magic. He even sent her to travel the continent for almost a year to learn some techniques that aren't known to Prythian. It was about five years in total, I think. According to Pryia, the High Lord didn't even think about having an heir until she had returned, ensuring that his mate would have the best care possible for her pregnancies."
You pause for a moment, swallowing thickly. "She was bound by a pretty strict bargain to never discuss details of the former Lady of Night's pregnancies, but she was able to teach her students everything she learned in her travels. I studied under her for almost four decades and since the High Lord… um, that is Lord Rhysand, is half-Illyrian, she made sure that her students were aware of the anatomy of Illyrian births. Especially after the complications of the former Lady of Night's pregnancies."
Cassian's brows furrow again, matching Azriel's. "I don't remember Nyssa having any complications during her pregnancy with Selene," Cass mutters.
You shrug. "That's all I know. The bargain Priya was bound with… it remained intact after the Lord Laris' death according to her. That was all she was able to tell anyone."
You blink a few times, leaning into Azriel's shoulder slightly, eyes drooping. "I have her journals though. She left them with me before her death. She made it sound like they have all the information about the Lady Nyssa's pregnancies."
Azriel frowns, studying you carefully. "She wasn't able to tell anyone because of the bargain, but she left you her journals?" he asks gently.
Your eyes widen slightly, color draining from your face, eyes flickering between Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta. "Yes, um… she- she knew that I- that if she left the journals with me, they would never be read. Not- not by me at least. Since you are Nyssa's family, or… um, family adjacent, I don’t see why you can't have them."
Nesta nods eagerly. "If you don't mind, I would love to read them. I can give them back once I'm done."
You smile softly. "No need. Priya taught me all the practical lessons that could possibly be in there. I don't need to know the personal details." Azriel smiles fondly at you, squeezing your hand slightly in his.
Cassian and Nesta share a glance, the shadows whispering of the nervousness flowing through them, as if Azriel couldn't see their shifting hands and the uptick in their breathing. "We have one more question to ask of you," Cassian begins slowly. Azriel stiffens, gaze hardening as he turns to them. "And, of course, you can refuse," he prefaces.
"You see," Nesta begins, eyes shifting to her mate. "Well, we… I mean, the reason we are asking… uh–"
You smile softly as Nesta stammers, inclining your head slightly. "Congratulations," you say quietly. Azriel's eyes narrow at you, before rounding to Nesta and Cassian again, eyes widening in understanding.
Nesta gapes at you for a moment, Cassian staring wide eyed before laughing lightly. Nesta chuckles breathily. "Is it that obvious?"
Slowly, you shake your head. "Only to someone who does this for a living," you admit softly.
Azriel smiles widely, watching his brother and friend carefully. "You will be amazing parents," he says gently.
Nesta leans more fully into Cassian, both of them smiling widely. "Thank you," she breathes out, nodding to Azriel. "Both of you. But the reason we're asking is, um…"
"We want to hire you," Cassian finishes for his mate.
Azriel brows furrow slightly, but his smile widens, glancing over to you. Your smile faulters slightly, mouth opening as you sit up straight again but, for a moment no sound comes out. "You- really?" you breathe.
Nesta nods. "Of course," she insists. "How much do you normally charge?"
"Oh, um…" your gaze flickers to Azriel. "Well, I- it's, um, about 5 copper marks per appointment."
Azriel's smile fades, head tilting slightly. In the corner of his eye, he can see Cassian and Nesta exchange a look, brows furrowed. "What?" he asks.
Azriel hears your heartbeat pick up, blood draining from your face. "If-if that's too much, I am always willing to negotiate," you respond quickly, voice wavering.
"No, love. That's not what I meant," he starts, wetting his lips.
"We just," Nesta cuts in, forcing a smile on her face, "thought it would be more. That seems much too low for you to make a living."
Heat rushes to your cheeks, head ducking slightly. "It's what I've always charged," you explain softly. "I never want someone to be without care because they couldn't afford it."
Azriel smiles sadly, letting go of your hand, to wrap around your shoulders. Drawing you into him, he places a long reverent kiss on your head. His chest stirs, with love and adoration for your caring and selflessness, but something twists right next to it, thinking of your apartment, of your threadbare clothes, of the times you eat far too quickly.
"Okay," Nesta says softly, eyes locked on her mate before turning back to you. "Well, we would love to hire you. Only if you are willing."
You lean into Azriel's warmth, offering them a tight, controlled smile. "Of course. It would be an honor." The line seems a bit too rehearsed for Azriel, but he doesn't argue.
Nesta lets out a sigh, smiling brightly. "Thank you!" she says, pulling away from Cassian. "Do you mind if we step away for a bit. I have a few questions not for…" she pauses, gaze flickering to Cassian and Azriel, "wondering ears," she settles on.
Chuckling breathily, you nod, the shadows and Azriel helping you to stand. Nesta quickly links her arm in yours leading you deeper into the garden, despite neither of you knowing where you are going.
Cassian comes up to Azriel, gently putting a hand on his shoulder as they watch the two females walk off. "Thank you," Azriel says softly, "for doing this for her."
Cassian's hand tightens on Azriel's shoulder, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. "We're not doing this for Y/N," he says simply. "Nes and I talked about it last night. She showed more knowledge of Illyrian reproduction off the top of her head than Madja had after months of researching for Feyre," he explains. "Nes has an Illyrian womb, so we need someone who knows exactly what that means and how that would affect the pregnancy."
Cassian pauses, turning to his brother, face hard as stone. "We asked her because we think it's what's best for Nesta and the baby. Who she is to you played no part in that decision."
Azriel studies Cassian for a long moment, his wings twitching against his back. Before he can think, Azriel reaches out, pulling Cassian into a tight embrace. Cass stills for a moment, before his arms encircle Azriel just as tightly. "Thank you," Azriel says again, "for everything."
"Always," Cassian responds, pulling back with a smile. "And we are going to be paying her more than 5 coppers an appointment. You don't even need to ask." A knot in Azriel's chest loosens.
———
"Do you mind if we sit?" you ask Nesta quietly, as you pass by a bench. The two of you have been walking through the gardens for about a half hour. The eldest Archeron had explained her true bargain with the Cauldron during the young princeling's birth, which resulted in a change to her reproductive system, before asking the myriad of questions every first-time mother asks. Your back aches, knees beginning to wobble beneath you; after your hard day yesterday, lack of sleep, and the amount of crying over the past day or so, your body was ready to collapse.
"Oh, sure," Nesta agrees readily, gently steering you to the bench.
You smile softly, eyes roaming over the various flowers before you, many of which you never would have thought could grow happily side-by-side. "You know, you don't need to ask me all of your questions today. We can set up a proper appointment where I will have my supplies. That will probably help ease your mind a lot."
Nesta offers you a tired smile, nodding. "I know," she sighs. "It's just… after Feyre's pregnancy. I think we are all going to be on edge."
"That is completely normal," you assure her. "Obviously, I cannot speak to human standards. But let me assure you, complications like the one your sister had are extremely rare for fae. Complications, in general, are rare, and, more often than not, both mother and child make a full recovery given enough time." Nesta purse her lips, but nods.
You turn towards her slightly. "My turn to ask a question. Have you already been looked over by a healer?"
"Yes, by Madja. About a week ago," she answers. You nod, biting the inside of your lip gently. Madja will not be pleased that the Lady of Death will be going to someone else for her pregnancy, but you'll cross that bridge later. "She didn't see anything to be concerned about, according to her. But she said it is still too early to see if there are wings."
Again, you nod, pursing your lips. "Well, that's good to hear," you say with a smile. "But for my peace of mind, would you be okay if I did a check during that appointment?"
"Yes, please," Nesta says, nodding eagerly. "I would have asked you if you hadn't offered."
Chuckling lightly, you reach out, grasping Nesta's hands. "It's okay to be nervous. All mothers are, no matter if it's their first pregnancy or their tenth. Even more so in your case, after the High Lady's. But, for now, enjoy it. Let me worry about those things, and you focus on these moments with your mate. Because in a few short months, everything is going to change. Even if it's for the better, it has been known to knock the wind out of people."
Laughing softly, Nesta nods, a hand moving to rest over her stomach. She looks over at you, smiling softly. "I see why Azriel loves you," she says simply. Your smile faulters, brows furrowing. "You're kind and caring to a fault, just like him," she explains gently. "You offer a peace the rest of us could never hope to bring him."
A lump forms in your throat, eyes darting to the path in front of you as you pull your hands back. "I- I don't know about that."
Nesta hums, leaning back on the bench, eyes closing as the mid-day sun warms her skin. "But Azriel does," she insists gently. "He was about ready to burn Rhys alive last night."
Eyes widening, your gaze snaps to hers. "What?"
She nods, smiling despite herself. "After you both left, he came back and tore Rhys a new one. I don't think Azriel has ever pushed back against him before, not like that at least. Rhys didn't know what to do with himself after Azriel left again." She chuckles lightly.
Your mouth opens, eyes blinking rapidly. "I- I didn't ask him to do that."
"You didn't have to," Nesta says head turning to look at you. "That male will burn the world down to keep you warm if you ask."
The bond pulls in your chest, rough and jagged, begging to be acknowledged. Your eyes close, taking a deep breath, coaxing the festering bond back into dormancy. The bond had soared in you earlier, when Azriel kissed you. It was the first time the bond didn't radiate any pain, even if your muscles had raged against you during the kiss. It tore through you now, crying out to be known.
"Why me?" you ask, barely a breath.
Nesta's brows furrow, leaning forwards, this time taking your hand in hers. "Because it's you," she answers, certainty ringing through her words. "And that is enough."
You shake your head softly, vaguely aware of the shadows emerging from the plants around you. Their presence has become so normal the past few months, twining around your limbs and fingers, playing with your hair, you barely notice them at first. Gently, they whisper against your skin, as if trying to convince you of Nesta's words. But it doesn't make sense, not truly. You have never been enough before, not to your parents, or friends, or other romantic partners. Especially not after they found out. How could you be enough now?
"Come on," Nesta urges, gently pulling you off the bench, leading you back the way you came. "We should find our way back to the males before they send a search party after us."
————
Thank you so much for reading!
Super quick little outline for the next few parts if you're curious: Part 4 will be a more private conversation with Az and Rhys wanting to talk more with Reader; Part 5 is the reveals (very chaotic, very fun😉); Part 6 is (supposed to be) a fluffy epilogue. About half of part 4 is written already, and was supposed to be in part three, but it got to be too long and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for too much longer. No promises on when it will come out though, but hopefully it won't be as long as it has been
Taglist: (It's a bit longer now, so if any don't work, please let me know)
Okay so there is this one azriel x reader fic where she's a spy and someone set her up. So azzie thinks reader is a traitor and locks her up. She gets toetured a lot and then she dies (thanks to rhys's mind powers). After she dies azzie figures out she was set up anf feels super shit..
If yo lnow which one this js plss let me know i cant find it anywhere. Thanks!!
