This incredibly beautiful art was created by an amazing and talented artist @iinnevvitable(in). She took my feverish musings, headcanons, and inspiration scene and turned it into this ethereal masterpiece. To me Elriel = Anidala in another universe, but with a happier ending 😉
IN MY OPINION, if you’re still holding onto GA/EL after 6 years, I genuinely don’t think you read the book. You had plenty of time. No excuses. Go cry to ya mama when Elriel gets announced.
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Sleepy voice Az, SMUUUUUUUTTTTTTT — pretty vanilla imo (unprotected p in v, creampie, biting, maybe the slightest hint of shadow play? Idk, I just work here) but it's morning sex, fem!mate reader, hints at possessive Az.
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1.4K
“You don't know the things you do to me, shadowsinger.” Your soft voice cut through the serenity of the room, echoing in a whisper as his shadows caressed your neck, gently brushing through your hair.
The dark sheets beneath the two of you rustled as Azriel shifted slightly; his grip on you tightened a small fraction, pulling your body closer to his.
He hummed sleepily, burying his nose in your hair, inhaling that sweet scent he loved so much.
“I might have some idea.” He murmured, his voice a low rumble, still laden with sleep. Yet you could hear the slight smirk in his tone.
A soft hum of amusement came from you as your fingers delicately traced invisible shapes on his skin. “Why's that?” Your voice was still quiet, not wanting to disturb the calm that came with the rainy morning outside.
The whole house was quiet except for the soft pitter patter of rain on the balcony and windows, as if everyone else was enjoying the cozy, rainy morning just as much as the two of you were. . . Hell, neither of you had opened your eyes yet.
Azriel ran his fingers down the bare skin of your back, tracing your spine with a feather light touch; you shivered slightly beneath his hand.
He let out a breathy chuckle, his hand drifting from your spine to your hip — he gripped it firmly, the muscles in his hand flexing. He shifted once again, his head moving down so he could press light kisses to your skin.
Your temple. Cheeks. Jawline. Neck. Shoulder. Then he kissed back up again, until they reached your lips.
He was gentle. Basking in the feeling of your lips against his, the connection was almost lazy in movement.
Then he pulled back just enough, finally opening his eyes to stare down at you. “Because I know you.” His hand came up, cupping your cheek as his thumb ran across your skin, his gaze tracing every possible detail of your face.
Your eyes fluttered open at the soft touch; your heart beat faster at the sight of his beautiful hazel eyes. Gods, you loved those eyes. . . Especially when the usually stoic shadowsinger was staring at you with such reverence.
You'd never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.
“I know how your body reacts to me.” He whispered. You shivered as his touch fell to the pulse point on your neck, gently tracing the area.
“I know how you taste.” Azriel shifted both of you so he was on top, his body naturally taking up residence between your legs.
He hovered above you, his head lowering to leave a trail of kisses and love bites from your chest to just below your ear. He smirked against you as he listened to your breathing begin to grow slightly ragged.
“I know how you feel.” He whispered, gently grinding his hard length against you, feeling how wet you already were.
You let out a soft, whimpering moan; he let out a low groan and his hands gripped the dark sheets.
“I know how you smell when you're aroused. . .” Azriel shifted his hips, positioning himself right where he wanted to be.
“Az. . .” You whimpered softly. He lifted his head to look into your eyes once again, searching for any indication that you didn't want him to continue. He found absolutely none. . . All he found was a heady mixture of love and lust in those eyes he fell in love with.
He shifted his hips once again, before he finally began to push in, filling you inch by inch — a hand found your hip to hold you in place.
Your body reacted immediately and arched into him as a sound of pleasure left your parted lips. At the same time, his shadows brushed over your hardened nipples in the cool room, a gentle caress over your skin.
A guttural, borderline feral, groan came from Azriel as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin while he rolled his hips.
“And I know the way you sound.” He murmured against your neck, gently nipping as his shadows proceeded to roam across your body, touching all of your most sensitive spots, drawing out gasps and whimpers.
“It's all for me.” Azriel raised his head once more, his heated gaze locking on your expression of pure ecstasy.
“It's all for you.” You moaned out, grasping the dark sheets tightly as pleasure met you with each thrust.
He growled softly, his pace picking up just the slightest bit. . . His hands trailed from your hips to your thighs, pushing them gently so you were more open to him.
“Mine.” He breathed out raggedly. “You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.” Thrust.
“Yours.”
He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth. He couldn't get enough of you, every taste and touch further sparking his need for you.
His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you as close to him as possible. He rocked his hips against yours, his rhythm becoming more urgent and forceful. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body, his restraint rapidly slipping away.
He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy and ragged as he trailed his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin.
Pleasure built up within you, every thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pressure getting to be too much until it finally snapped with a moan of his name, the feeling washing over you like a wave.
He groaned, feeling your body tighten around him, trembling from the sensations only he could bring you. He didn't want it to end just yet, but he felt his own pleasure building, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap at any moment.
“So good for me.” He murmured, his movement becoming erratic as he was pushed closer, teetering right on the edge of pleasure.
He pulled you flush against him as he climaxed, his arms wrapping tightly around your body as he fought to catch his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel the tremors running through every part of him.
He nuzzled his face against your neck, his lips caressing every inch of skin he could reach. He didn't want to let go of you, didn't want to lose the feeling of your body pressed against his.
“You're going to be the death of me.” Azriel murmured against your neck, his fingers tracing invisible shapes on your body as you both came down from the high.
A soft chuckle came from you, followed by a hum as you finally caught your breath. “That's what you get for falling in love with me, shadowsinger.”
He huffed out a small laugh before leaving one last kiss. He pulled out and backed away, looking down at his handiwork. “So beautiful.” He hummed, his voice a low rumble as he stared down at your body.
Sometimes he couldn't believe it. You were his.
He wordlessly got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a damp, warm washcloth.
“Here we go.” He murmured softly as he began to clean you up from the encounter; a soft hum of contentment left your lips as you felt the warm cloth on your skin, wiping away the remnants. . .
Eventually, the day pulled you and Azriel from the confines of his room. . . The rain never ceased, the large drops spilling from the sky creating its own song.
Cassian's boisterous laughter met your ears as you and Azriel walked down the hall, towards the dining room — side by side, his shadows crawling over your body like you were the one able to command them.
The quieter voices grew louder the closer the two of you got; then you rounded the corner and the rest of the family came into view. . .
Cassian's gaze immediately landed on you and Azriel. He let out another laugh, looking between Feyre, Rhysand, you, and Azriel. . . “Looks like everyone started their morning with a bang.”
Rhysand smirked, pleased with himself as he pulled his mate closer to him.
Azriel raised an eyebrow, yet couldn't help the small upturn of his lips into a satisfied smirk.
As for you and Feyre? A look of slight horror and embarrassment was shared between the two of you.
Cassian went to open his mouth again.
“Cass, for the love of the gods. . . Shut up.” You muttered with wide eyes, effectively cutting him off.
He only smirked.
Simultaneous groans came from you and Feyre. . . Cassian wouldn't let it go. . . He'd be at it all day. . . Yet when your gaze finally found Nesta, your eyes locked on the new love bites that were just barely hidden by her modest sleepwear.
And then you looked back to Cassian with a smirk.
Game on.
A/N— Y'all, I've been slacking with writing because I've been so busy with classes, writing my book, and trying to get my license. At this point, life is a party and I'm the piñata. . . So I apologize if this isn't that good or doesn't make sense, I'm trying to get back into writing fanfics for all of you.
It's almost like SJM likes her endgame couples to settle each other - for them to find peace, calm, and complete and total acceptance with their person.
Summary: Request -Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court... Read Rest Here
A/N: Whew this was challenging to write but I really love how it turned out! Please let me know how you like it below. And as always, keep sending in your requests!
Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Dawn Court Reader)
Word Count: 6.2k +
TW: Mean Az, Harsh Words (soft ending!)
When Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court, realized the growing demands of her duties required an apprentice she petitioned the High Lord for permission to seek out a promising candidate. Her search led her to Dawn Court where your skills and unique approach to healing caught her attention. Impressed, as she often wasn’t, she offered you the chance to study under her. A chance to take over for her in a few hundred years. It was a proposition that both excited and terrified you. Normally you were more risk-averse but something within urged you not to let this opportunity slip by. Accepting the offer might be a decision you'd regret forever if declined.
Your arrival at the Night Court was a mix of awe and overwhelming pressure. You were acutely aware of the Court’s reputation with its warriors and schemers, and its dances of politics and power. Yet, as the years unfolded you found more than just acceptance. You found a place where you felt like you just might belong. Madja was an exacting teacher and under her guidance you thrived. Your skills became indispensable to the Night Court.
Mor, your favorite social butterfly, took it upon herself to integrate you into the Court's vibrant life. She invited you out with the girls to Rita's where the music and laughter helped weave you deeper into the fabric of Night Court society. Cassian with his easy grin and boundless energy offered to train you in physical defense. He said it was essential for everyone at the Court to know how to protect themselves. And even Rhysand himself showed you how to fortify your mental shields as a necessary skill amidst the intrigues that often played out around them.
Yet despite these warm inclusions, Azriel was the only one who kept a cautious distance. The shadowy spymaster was polite but reserved. He often watched you with a contemplative gaze that suggested he was trying to figure you out from a safe distance. His reluctance to engage was not overtly hostile but it was clear he held reservations. His own shadows clinging too tightly, perhaps, to allow another close. This delicate balance of respect and curiosity marked your interactions, or lack thereof, with the spymaster. You often caught glimpses of Azriel as his presence like a whisper in the vast halls of the Court. He was always just out of reach, both physically and emotionally. His aloofness didn't hinder your duties. But it did create a space of unanswered questions in your mind.
One cool evening in the Night Court the opportunity to bridge that distance between him presented itself unexpectedly. Azriel returned from a particularly grueling mission. His arrival unannounced except for the quiet clatter of his boots in the hallway of the healer's quarters. As he pushed open the door, the grimace etched across his face spoke volumes of the pain he was enduring, both visible and hidden beneath the surface.
You ushered him in, your professional demeanor in place yet your heart beating a tad faster with the realization that this was the closest you had ever been to him. His usually guarded expression was replaced with a rare, unguarded grimace of pain. It revealed a vulnerability he typically masked beneath layers of shadows and silence making you feel a touch uneasy.
"Let me help," you offered softly while guiding him to a seat where you could better assess his injuries. The proximity to him in this moment tending to his wound felt like an unspoken permission to finally address the silent questions that had lingered between you. It was an opening to understand the man who had so thoroughly perfected the art of being untouchable.
"Let's take a look at that," you murmur while taking his hand in yours. Your hands are steady and careful as you gently peel away the fabric near his wound. The cut isn't deep, but it's laced with poison, enough to have caused significant discomfort. “I’m sorry. This is going to sting.” You whispered as you rushed off to grab the needed supplies.
As you apply a soothing salve you notice Azriel's clenched jaw and the way his muscles tighten under your touch—not just from the sting of the wound. You've seen warriors in all states, and you recognize the signs of inner turmoil as clearly as physical injuries.
"Azriel," you start, your voice soft but firm, "even the strongest warriors can benefit from sharing their burdens. It doesn't make you weak to speak about what's weighing on your heart." You try and sound confident in your words, but it comes out as meek.
His reaction is immediate and sharp. It cut through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Azriel's eyes snap up to meet your with a coldness in them that freezes you in place. "You think you have the right to offer me counsel?" he says with his voice low and biting. "You, who have barely seen a fraction of the darkness I have faced. Yet you presume to understand my duties, my sacrifices?"
You open your mouth to apologize. To clarify your intentions but he doesn't give you the chance. "No, don’t," he snaps. Cutting you off as your heart begins to sink. "Don’t patronize me with platitudes and naive compassion. You know nothing of the burdens I carry. Of the secrets that consume me. You see surface wounds and think to heal a soul scarred by centuries?" It was the most you had heard him speak and unfortunately for you those words made your heart nearly twist in two. Surely that wasn’t what you were trying to do.
Your eyes begin to burn. His words slicing through any defense you might have had. You look down instead focusing on the bandage. To hide the hurt that’s welling up, threatening to spill over. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
"Save your apologies," Azriel interrupts with a tone as harsh as a winter storm. "They mean nothing in the face of what I endure daily. You wish to help? Do so by not overstepping your bounds again." You drop his arm after finishing up removing the poison and sealing the cut. But he wasn’t done, no. You just wished he’d fly away instead of cutting you even deeper. You had no intention of offending him yet here he was, hurt by your very own words. You’d never truly felt like a helpless child in all your centuries until this very moment.
As he continues his words grow even colder, each one a deliberate stake right into your very own heart. "Understand this, healer. My life, my pains are not fodder for idle chatter or curious minds seeking to 'fix' what they perceive as broken. You cannot begin to comprehend the wars I fight within the shadows. Wars meant to protect you and everyone else here from horrors you should hope never to encounter." His words were final, offering you no chance at rebuttal. Not that you would have been able to find the words. Your mind was racing in horror about what had just transpired in your very own healing hall. You, the one who was meant to mend broken souls might’ve just torn his right back open.
He stands abruptly with his wound tended but the air around him colder than the stone walls of the court. His departure is swift, leaving a wake of silence so deep it echoes through the chamber. You're left alone with the sting of his rebuke more painful than any physical wound you've treated. His words replay in your mind as a harsh reminder of the chasm between his world of shadows and your desire to heal. Guilt begins to consume you as you replay the words that struck you so hardly in your mind.
The room feels overwhelmingly empty as you struggle to compose yourself. The impact of his dismissal weighing heavily on your heart. You realize that healing Azriel might be beyond your reach. Not for lack of skill, but because the wounds he carries are far deeper and more complex than you ever imagined. Perplexed and deeply hurt you find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. Confusion is the first to surface. You had approached the situation with genuine concern. Your offer to listen driven by the empathy that defines your role as a healer. His aggressive response, then, feels like an undeserved refusal. A dismissal not just of your words but of your very intent.
You replay the conversation in your mind, dissecting each exchange, each barbed word. His accusation that you, nestled in your world of herbs and healing, could never understand the scope of his darkness stings sharply. It's true though you realize. That the depths of his secrets are beyond your grasp. This acknowledgment doesn't ease the sting of rejection. If anything, it deepens the wound. You had not claimed to understand. You only wanted to listen. And yet, he had cut you off, leaving no room for reconciliation.
As the initial shock fades, a deeper, more persistent ache settles in. You're hurt. Undeniably so. Hurt by his insinuation that your attempts at comfort were trivial, naive even. Does he truly see you as just another court member? As just a healer? Naive to the true workings of his world? The thought is disheartening, and you feel a profound sense of isolation creeping in. A sense that perhaps you are out of your depth in this court of shadows and secrets. Perhaps your mother was right. You weren’t built for the Night Court. You had a wonderful, easy life in Dawn. She had even picked out a high-ranking husband for you that would’ve provided and kept you safe. Her nagging words pricked at the back of your mind as the last five years here almost fell all for nothing. Five years was no time in the world of fae, you knew this. You were still the new healer, but you had thought that maybe you were finally finding your footing here. But then again maybe you were wrong.
Yet, beyond the hurt and confusion there's also a glimmer of resolve. You're a healer, trained not only to mend wounds but to understand the people you treat. Azriel's outburst, though harsh, reveals more than his disdain. It highlights his immense burden. His profound isolation. Perhaps your approach was too direct. Too unguarded for someone so accustomed to concealing his emotions.
As you clean up the space a quiet resolution forms in your mind. You won't push him again, no, not without invitation. The sting of his words lingers, and you decide that perhaps the best way to handle this is to give him the space he seems to fiercely guard. He may have dismissed your concern today but it's clear that what he desires most is distance. Not the compassion you offered. In this moment of reflection, you recognize the complexity of healing. It’s not just about tending to visible wounds. It’s also about understanding when to step back. Recognizing that some scars are too deeply etched to be approached without consent. Azriel has his walls, high and fortified. And you, you decide, will no longer attempt to scale them. Instead, you resolve to avoid him, believing that distancing yourself is the kindest thing you can do for him right now.
This decision doesn't come easy. You're a healer, trained to offer solace and aid to those in pain. Yet, in this case, the healing you want to provide is not welcomed or perhaps even needed in the way you thought. You accept that sometimes healing means stepping back. It means allowing wounds to close in the solitude they were opened in. Maybe with time he will seek you out if ever he feels ready to lower his guard. Until then you'll focus on those who welcome your help carrying with you the lesson that sometimes the best way to care for someone is simply to let them be.
After the confrontation in the healing room the atmosphere at the Night Court seemed to shift becoming dense with an unspoken tension that hung heavily in the air. Azriel quickly became burdened by the discomfort of his own harshness. It wasn’t often but he felt an acute sting of regret. His words, sharper and colder than he had intended, replayed relentlessly in his mind. Each sentence an echo of a reminder of the pain he had inflicted on somebody so kind.
Late into the night he found himself wandering the quieter corridors of the court trying to clear his mind.. The stone beneath his feet was cold and unyielding much like the mask he wore so well. With each step he attempted to outpace his regret, but solitude brought no relief. The memory of the genuine shock and sadness in your eyes haunted him. A vivid image that refused to fade into the shadows where he so often retreated.
Why had he lashed out? Azriel questioned himself. His normally composed thoughts unraveling with unusual disorder. He knew the stress of his duties as the spymaster often left him on edge, a blade perpetually sharpened and ready. Yet, it was more than just the strain of his role. It was the fear of vulnerability. Of opening those darker parts of himself he fought so hard to control. Seeing your concern, so innocent and genuine, had somehow threatened the walls he had meticulously built around his emotions for centuries. He couldn’t become undone by your one simple question.
He hated himself for how he had responded to you. How his instinct to protect his inner turmoil had manifested as cruelty towards you. The more he thought about it the more he despised the part of himself that had become so adept at pushing others away, especially those who dared to care.
As Azriel continued his nocturnal wanderings the shadows around him seemed to whisper of solitude and sorrow. Yet, it was the sorrow in your eyes that lingered most prominently in his mind. He realized then that his actions might not only have hurt you but could also have damaged whatever budding respect or friendship could have grown between you. This thought tightened the already constricting band around his chest. He had messed up badly and he knew it. His shadows knew it.
Resolving to seek redemption, not just for his peace but to mend the fracture he had caused, Azriel decided he would apologize to you. He needed to explain to you. To make you understand that his outburst wasn’t a reflection of his feelings towards you but a misguided defense against his own insecurities.
His journey through the night didn’t erase his regrets, but it solidified his resolve. He would try to bridge the gap his words had created hoping that you would understand and perhaps forgive. In the quiet before dawn Azriel finally stopped walking, the decision firm in his mind. Tomorrow, he would face you again, not as the Night Court's daunting spymaster, but simply as Azriel… imperfect and remorseful.
As he moved silently past the gardens the moonlight cast a serene glow over the night-blooming flowers illuminating the path with a ghostly light. Drawn by the soft, muffled sounds of distress his shadows unconsciously steered him towards a secluded alcove hidden by tendrils of ivy and the long shadows of the towering trees. It was unmistakably you. His heart tightened as he approached. Driven by a mix of concern and a need to understand the impact of his earlier harshness.
There in the dim light, he found you seated on a small bench. You were not alone, but with one of the younger assistants from the healer's quarters he had recognized. The assistant, whom you often mentored, sat beside you with a hand on your shoulder. Her presence meant to support you as you struggled with a flood of emotions.
"I don’t know any more Helena. Maybe I just don't belong here," you whispered between sobs. Your voice shaky with uncertainty. Tears streamed down your cheeks unrestrained after holding them back for so long. Azriel's words had not just stung. They had acted as a dam break, releasing all the pent-up doubts and fears you had about your place in this illustrious court. "I keep thinking maybe I should just go back to Dawn. My very own mother always said I was chasing a fantasy coming here. Maybe she's right. Maybe a quieter life away from all this would be better for me. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Night Court."
The young assistant, Helena, looked up to you not only for your healing skills but also for your kindness and leadership. She listened intently. Her expression one of deep empathy and concern. "You can't think that way," she responded softly. Her voice earnest. "Everyone here, especially Madja, respects you so much. Cassian, Mor, even Rhysand—they all see how much you bring to our home. It's not just you’re healing. It's your spirit. You're meant to be here with us. Please don’t think like that. I’ve learned more than I ever thought possible from you. We need you here."
Her comforting words were meant to bolster your spirits, but the reassurance felt hollow against the backdrop of your raw emotions. Despite her encouraging tone, the doubts seeded by Azriel's harsh outburst lingered. They tainted your thoughts with shadows of uncertainty about your place in this world you had grown to love yet still sometimes felt alien in.
Azriel was hidden just out of sight. He felt a deep pang of regret as he listened. The raw pain in your voice and the sight of your tears struck him more profoundly than he had ever expected. He realized then that his careless words had cut far deeper than he had intended, not just challenging your confidence but piercing the very core of your sense of belonging. Knowing that an apology would be necessary but not sufficient, Azriel resolved to actively show that you were valued and essential. Not just as a healer but as a vital member of their community. His thoughts solidified in the quiet of the night. He would make amends, starting with a heartfelt apology and followed by actions that would hopefully restore your faith in your place at the Night Court.
It was an ordinary yet busy day in the healer's quarters of the Night Court. You were deeply focused on tending to a young fae warrior who had sustained a minor but painful injury during training. As you carefully applied a healing salve the sound of urgent voices and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"He needs help now!" Azriel's voice carried a tone of dire urgency as he burst into the room. He was supporting a limping Cassian whose leg was bleeding profusely from a deep gash surely laced with poison. These damn Illyrians always coming back with some form of poisoned injury. The sight of such an injury would normally have you on your feet and rushing over. But the presence of Azriel, the harbinger of your recent heartache, gave you pause.
For a split second your gaze met Azriel's and the memory of his harsh words and cold dismissal surged through your mind. You looked away as quickly as you could. Your chest immediately tightened with anxiety at the thought of what to do. It wasn’t fair to Cassian to ignore him, but you didn’t think you could face Azriel right now. Terrified of another confrontation and still raw from the last you quickly turned your attention back to the young fae before you.
"This one's in a critical state, I need to focus here. Helena, please attend to the General." you called out your voice slightly louder than necessary. The lie laid bitter on your tongue. It wasn't entirely untrue. His injury did need attention, but it certainly wasn't as dire as Cassian's condition.
Helena, who had followed in behind Azriel and Cassian, quickly stepped forward to assist, sensing the tension. "I've got him, don't worry," she spoke as she moved to tend to Cassian with a swift efficiency that you were grateful for.
As you focused intently on the young fae's injury with your back turned to the drama unfolding behind you, you heard every strained whisper and shuffling footstep echoed ominously. Despite your efforts to concentrate your mind spun with anxiety and dread. You knew your actions were a protective shield guarding you from a confrontation you felt unprepared to handle.
Behind you, Azriel's concern for Cassian was palpable. His usual stoic demeanor was pierced by urgency. His voice a low, constant murmur as he assisted your assistant. Yet, his mind was partly on you. He was troubled by the palpable tension and the rigid set of your shoulders. The memory of his previous harshness towards you weighed heavily on him, mixing regret with a newfound caution. He wondered if his actions had broken something essential. Perhaps fearing that your trust in him might be irreparably damaged.
Cassian, despite his pain noticed the strained dynamics as well. As your assistant worked on his wound his eyes flicked towards you, then back to Azriel. "What happened between you two?" he hissed under his breath not missing the unusual distance you kept. Azriel's silence was an answer in itself. It was filled with remorse and resignation. Cassian's frown deepened. Concern for his friends overshadowing his physical discomfort. "You need to fix this, Az," he muttered, firm yet worried. "She’s not just any healer. She’s part of this family now. She’s going to replace Madja someday."
Once the immediate crisis was handled and Cassian was stable Azriel made his way towards you. His steps were hesitant, each one heavy with regret. When he paused by your side his presence felt like a cold shadow. His usual warmth for his family became obscured by the barrier that had formed between you.
"Thank you," he said softly. His voice low and perhaps understanding more than you wanted him to. "For all that you do here." You sucked in a breath at his words. Was he apologizing? Was he sorry? Were you completely misreading the situation yet again?
You didn't turn to face him. Fear of what you might see in his eyes—anger, disappointment, or worse, indifference—kept you fixed in place. "Of course," you managed to whisper. The words barely escaping your lips. He sensed that this wasn’t the time nor place to dig deeper so he resolved to keep his words simple. He would find you later when you weren’t busy working. He truly needed to apologize to you.
After he left the weight of the encounter settled heavily upon you. You felt a mix of relief at having avoided direct confrontation and a deep-seated guilt for your evasion. You knew this wasn't just about professional duties. It was about the fractures within a team, a family you had grown to cherish.
Later, as the healer’s quarters quieted and the evening settled in, Cassian found you in the gardens, where the night’s cool air seemed to echo the chill in your own thoughts. It was your favorite place to relax and unwind. Your sanctuary in the chaos that was the Night Court. He approached with a confident stride despite his recent injury and his expression was serious.
"Hey," he started. His voice carrying a hint of his usual directness mixed with concern. "Things were off between you and Az today. He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. We’ve all had our rough patches, but we don’t let that drive a wedge between us. Yeah?"
You paused, looking down at your growing herbs rather than meeting his gaze. You let out a soft sigh before answering him. "I’m just scared, Cass. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing again. It’s like... I’m tiptoeing around landmines with him. How do I even start to fix that?"
Cassian nodded. His features softening slightly. "Az can be intense. I won’t argue with that. But he’s also one of the most upright guys I know. Just be honest with him. Tell him you’re trying to avoid making things worse. He respects straightforwardness. Always has." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "And remember, it’s not just about avoiding the landmines. It’s about clearing the field. Start with the truth. It’s always been the best foundation for us here, no matter how hard it might be."
You nodded appreciating his words. He was right. The truth got you so much further. "Thanks, Cass," you replied feeling a resolve begin to form. "I think I’ll talk to him. Just lay everything out."
"That’s the way," Cassian said with a brief nod. "We’re all here together, and we keep no secrets... save Azriel,” He smirked knowing that’s likely what got the two of you in the situation in the first place. “At least not the kind that hurt. If you're honest, he’ll listen. And if there’s anyone who can understand the value of facing hard truths, it’s Azriel."
As Cassian left you to your thoughts the weight on your shoulders didn't lift entirely but you felt more prepared to face the challenge ahead. Honesty would be your approach; you would share your fears with Azriel, hoping that it would bridge the gap between you. After all, in the Night Court, even the darkest shadows were faced together, not alone.
The next night you found yourself back in the serene confines of your herb garden where the evening light softened the edges of each leaf and petal. You were deeply absorbed in tending to a cluster of chamomile. The quiet focus on your plants provided a necessary reprieve from the swirling anxieties that had occupied your thoughts lately. However, your calm shattered when a shadow loomed unexpectedly over you. Azriel.
Startled, you looked up, only to find him standing there watching you with a curiosity you’d never seen from him before. His sudden presence was imposing and unexpectedly close and sent a rush of panic through you. His height and the intensity in his eyes seemed to fill the space making the air around you feel thinner.
"Oh! Azriel, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you walk over," you blurted out. A nervous chuckle escaping you as you hastily tried to gather your scattered wits. "I was just, um, focusing here, and—you know, plants don’t really talk back, so I guess I wasn't expecting any company."
He paused after noting your discomfort. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you," he said gently. His voice a soothing rumble. "I came to apologize. For the last time we spoke. I was too harsh. It was unfair to you."
Your response tumbled out in a rush. Your words tripping over each other. "No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean, not fine fine, but you know… I should’ve been more aware or something. I’m usually not this jumpy, I swear. Maybe a little—actually, maybe a lot right now because, well, you're kind of, um, imposing? And this wasn’t how I imagined our next conversation going..."
Azriel’s slight smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it did appear to carry a hint of amusement at your rambling. "I appreciate you saying that, but truly, I am the one who should be apologizing. I’ve thought a lot about what I said... and I regret it deeply. You didn’t deserve that." He took another step toward you as you stood.
You swallowed hard trying to steady your racing heart. "Why are you apologizing now?" you managed to ask feeling suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The question felt bold, but your voice was anything but confident.
He took a slight step back giving you a bit more space. "Because I realized I might have made you feel unwelcome or undervalued here and that’s… that’s the last thing I want. We all need to support each other, and I failed in that moment. I want to make it right if you’ll let me."
Your mind raced with every thought, but you nodded feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I... yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been feeling a bit lost here. Like maybe I don’t belong. It’s been tough, and, well, your words stung. But maybe, I don’t know, maybe we can start over? Try to understand each other a bit more?" As you offered him a tentative smile the garden seemed to return to its peaceful state. The earlier tension dissipating slightly.
Azriel’s gaze softened with a rare flicker of amusement lighting his eyes as he noticed your unease. "You handle the complexities of healing with such ease," he commented with a slight tease in his voice, "yet you seem quite disarmed by a rather simple conversation."
You gave a small self-conscious laugh appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, it's one thing to deal with herbs and potions. They tend not to talk back. It's another to navigate apologies and emotions. Especially with someone who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest."
He smiled and it transformed his face, softening the usual stern lines. "Fair enough," he conceded. Then, his expression turned more serious. The playful glint replaced by a depth of sincerity. "I really am sorry, though. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but it’s because I mean it. I’ve been... difficult towards you these last few years. And I don’t want to burden you with the things I’ve carried. Of the decisions I've had to make. It’s not your weight to bear."
You listened, understanding dawning as you saw the heavy cloak of responsibility he wore. Something that was so integral to his identity yet so isolating. "Maybe not," you replied softly, "but sharing those burdens doesn’t mean you're passing them on. It just means you’re not alone with them anymore. We can share without it being a burden. Sometimes, sharing is how we heal."
Azriel looked at you with something like wonder flickering in his gaze. "I suppose you’re right," he admitted. "It’s just not easy for me. I’ve always thought keeping my troubles to myself was a way to protect others. But maybe... maybe I’ve been wrong about that." The conversation deepened as each of you explored the nuances of forgiveness and the strength found in mutual understanding and empathy. Azriel learned about the power of vulnerability. Not as a spymaster but as a man. And he saw how your empathy and gentle nature enriched the court in ways that strategy and strength could not.
"I've kept many secrets," Azriel confessed. His voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves. "Not because I enjoy the solitude but because I fear the consequences of those secrets unraveling."
"You don’t have to tell me everything," you assured him. "Just knowing that you trust me enough to admit you have these secrets is a step. We all have secrets Azriel. What matters is how we face them and who stands with us when we do."
Azriel nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you for understanding."
You nodded but still felt a nagging question at the bottom of your heart. The gardens around you seemed to hold their breath as you voiced a concern that had been shadowing your thoughts. "Azriel, back when you... when you were upset. You called me 'healer.' Is that… is that all you see me as?" Your insecurity got the better of you. The question sounded so much more childish as you asked it aloud, but you needed to know the answer.
Azriel’s expression changed instantly. The regret in his eyes unmistakable. "Gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I was angry and overwhelmed and I unfairly took it out on you." His voice was thick with remorse. His usual stoicism giving way to a rare openness. "You are so much more than just a healer to us, to me. I should never have made you feel otherwise." Seeing the sincerity in his gaze you felt a complex knot of emotions begin to untangle. Yet, there was still a shadow of sadness in your eyes. A remnant of the hurt his words had caused.
Noticing this, Azriel did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer. His presence enveloping you whole, and hesitantly, almost awkwardly he opened his arms. "May I?" he asked softly giving you the choice.
With a small nod you stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It was a rare gesture from him as he was known for his guarded nature. It spoke volumes of his regret and his desire to make amends. His shadows ever a part of him, seemed to curl around the both of you gently. A comforting whisper against your skin.
As you stood there held in his careful embrace Azriel spoke again, his voice gentler than you had ever heard. "I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. I let my anger and frustrations dictate my actions and you bore the brunt of that. I promise you this, I will do better. You deserve better."
Pulling back slightly he looked down into your eyes, ensuring you could see the truth in his. "Thank you for giving me the chance to apologize, to make things right. I don’t take your forgiveness lightly."
Your heart that was once heavy with doubt and hurt now fluttered with a burgeoning sense of renewed connection. "Thank you, Azriel, for understanding, for this," you said, your voice steady despite the emotions brimming within.
This conversation that was once a tentative path to reconciliation had blossomed into something deeper. A genuine connection fostered by understanding and shared vulnerabilities. Azriel's willingness to show his softer side, to bridge the gap with both an apology and a hug, marked a new chapter in your relationship. One filled with potential for even greater understanding and closeness. Together in the quiet of the herb garden you both began to navigate a path toward healing. Your relationship strengthened by the honesty and empathy of your exchange. It was a tentative step forward. One filled with potential for deeper understanding and a strengthened connection.
As the weeks turned into months, the atmosphere between you and Azriel visibly shifted. You both continued with your roles at the Night Court—Azriel, cloaked in shadows as the spymaster, and you, weaving magic and medicine as a healer. The sharp edges of earlier interactions softened replaced by a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that grew with each passing day.
One evening during a relaxed gathering at the Night Court, the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the warm laughter of friends and allies. Under the gentle glow of twilight you found yourself beside Azriel discussing something that excited you greatly—a plan for a new herb garden specifically designed for healing and restorative properties.
As you outlined your ideas your enthusiasm was palpable. "I’ve been researching some rare herbs that could thrive here under the Night’s eternal stars," you explained with your hands gesturing animatedly. "There’s this one flower, Lumina Blossom, known for its potent healing capabilities with poison but incredibly rare. I think with the right care, we could cultivate it here."
Azriel watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened intently. The usual shadows that clung to him seemed to lift slightly instead replaced by a light of curiosity sparked by your passion. It was a stark contrast to the brooding intensity he was known for. His gaze was fixed on you, clearly fascinated by your knowledge and the excitement that lit up your features.
"Have you considered adding Dawnlight Belle to your garden?" he suggested. His tone encouraging but slightly hesitant, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground. "I've heard it's a good one. Especially for salves used in treating deep wounds, which unfortunately, we encounter often here."
You paused, your expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Azriel, I'm impressed you’ve heard of Dawnlight Belle," you said while nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, it's remarkably effective for healing deep wounds and incorporating it here would indeed be incredibly beneficial. It's also a bit of home but with a practical use for the Night Court."
Azriel’s smile widened slightly. His usual reserve melting away in the warmth of the conversation. "I thought it might be useful," he said softly. "It’s important to have pieces of home with us. And you’ve done so much to find your place here. It’s only fitting your garden does the same."
The conversation flowed easily between you as it slowly had come to. And as you spoke more about your plans Azriel's responses were thoughtful, showing his deep respect for your work. It was clear that he was not only listening but also truly engaged in what you were sharing.
As the evening wore on you found yourself more relaxed and open to discussing your hopes and dreams for the garden. Azriel's attentiveness and the sincere interest he showed in your passions brought a new depth to your interaction. A sense that something meaningful was blossoming between you, rooted in mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose.
Together you sketched out potential layouts for the garden. His strategic mind complementing your creative vision. The project that was born from a casual conversation was shaping up to be a beautiful symbol of regeneration and unity. It was a confirmation to the growing relationship forming between you as you both discovered the joy of collaboration and mutual understanding.
From across the way Cassian caught Rhysand and Feyre’s attention, nodding subtly towards you and Azriel with a wide grin. "Look at that," he chuckled. "Seems our resident shadowsinger has found a bit of light. Never thought I’d see the day."
Rhys, with a sly grin and a sparkle in his eye that matched the mischief in his voice, glanced over at you two. "Oh, I’d say there’s a bit more than just gardening going on there," he quipped as he leaned back with an air of casual intrigue. "Wouldn’t you agree, Cass? Feyre? It seems our spymaster might just be more enchanted with our lovely healer than he lets on."
Cassian laughed. His loud voice booming across the room. "You're one to talk, Rhys. Just don’t start planning their mating ceremony yet. Let them at least decide if they like each other first."
Feyre, who had been quietly observing the exchange from her place next to Rhysand, chuckled and shook her head. "She seems so good for him I must admit. But don't you dare meddle, Rhysand. We know how that turns out," she teased. Her eyes gleaming with humor. "Remember the Great Cake Incident of '49?"
The group erupted into laughter, including Rhys, who rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright, no meddling," he conceded. His voice still laced with laughter. "But for the record, that cake deserved better and meddling here would only help them."
The evening continued with the stars twinkling above as conversations flowed around the room. Your interaction with Azriel, now less guarded and more genuine, did not go unnoticed by those who knew him best. As the night deepened, the easy banter and shared smiles between you and Azriel spoke of something that was quietly strengthening. It was clear to everyone, even without Rhysand’s playful meddling, that something significant was blossoming. Something that went beyond the professional respect of two court members.
Together, you and Azriel discovered that even in a place as mystical and imposing as the Night Court, the true magic lay not just in ancient spells or hidden power but in the connections forged through vulnerability, trust, and perhaps, the beginnings of something deeper.
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DragonBorne!Reader X Azriel.
(This is a spin-off of my original piece 'In what we keep.')
After a particularly rough mission in Illyria, some of the inner circle seek refuge from the horrible snowstorm in one of the many villages on the mountain. Only to realize that the woman who owns it seems all too familiar with their beloved Shadowsinger.
Warnings: Self Made Fae Race (Aka the dragonborne race), swearing, Pre-established Relationship, mates, fated, slightly Soft Azriel, secret relationships and more ACOTAR IS NOT MY BOOK, NEITHER ARE THE CHARACTERS EXCLUDING Y/N
"This storm doesn't seem to be going anywhere Rhys!"
Cassian's voice strained heavily as he squinted through all of the heavy snowfall, his wings folded tightly behind his back as the wind seemingly swirled around them. The trail of footprints they left behind them as they walked tirelessly long gone as the once soft snow quickly covered them. Rhysand wrapped his scarf once more, attempting to keep the cold air away from any resemblance of skin he could. His purple eyes darted around as they stopped walking. The sound of the mountains howling from the wind showed sign of the storm not slowing down anytime soon. "We can't just turn around; there's no war camp for miles!" Rhysand shivered as he looked back at his brothers, his arms carefully wrapping around him in hopes to keep some body heat.
Azriel groaned as he tightened the fur that hung around his body. The black dire wolf pelt keeping out more of the wind than he cared to admit. His eyes squinting as he looked around, looking for any markers he could find. For the first time since he was a teen, he was stuck in the icy mountain he once called home. There was no way they could all continue like this. Flying had no longer been an option due to the wind; it would be a death wish to even attempt to use his numb wings.
He was quite sure if he spread them, they would drop icicles or break like one.
They had lost the chimera's a long time ago, the snow making it hard to catch up since they were so attuned to this type of weather. (Unlike them, he thought.)
The snow continued to whisk around them as they all stood there, Cassian's wings flexing as the wind the membrane he tried so hard to keep warm. He groaned as a shiver fought through his body. Snow falling off of his hood as he kept ahold of the fabric. "There's no way we can even get to Rosehall like this, let alone any of the camps!" Azriel watched as Cassian spoke, a frown tugging at his lips as he thought.
"That's even if they had room to house us. The camps are becoming overpopulated, not enough resources." As Azriel spoke his breath came out in a foggy cloud, his hands shoved under the pelt he wore.
Rhysand shuffled, trying to shield his eyes as he turned, looking for anything.
Cassian squinted, this now blue lips pressed into a thin line as he began to trudge up and bat snow off of something oddly sign-like. Crouching to wipe off the white. Azriels eyes locked into some lights in the distance, the storm clearing up for a little before a large rush of wind hit them. Cassian let out a grunt as he fell over, face now shoved into the snow before he got up and yelled in frustration.
"Stupid Illyria! Stupid snow, stupid mountain!" Cassian kicked the sign, his breath coming out in quick fog now that he shivered even more. The wet snow soaking into his hair and dripping down into his coat and onto his leathers. "Where even it there a village that's willing to take us in! Not y'know, Gut us!?" Cassian rubbed his arms. Watching as Azriel rolled his eyes.
"I see lights." Azriel piped up, feet already up and moving to make his way toward what seemed to be a village, his bottom lip shivering as the other two picked up the pace behind him.
Azriel side eyed the sign, some old language carved into the rotten wood. The small egg burnt into it made him sigh. He knew exactly where they were now.
"Do we know where we are!?" Rhysand eventually caught up, only a couple of steps behind the shadowsinger. A hand hovering over his face as he spoke. Azriel's wings flinched slightly, as if nervous by the question. A small grumble left the taller male, face grim as he kept approaching.
He truly didn't want it to come to this, but what would happen to the three of them if they didn't find shelter now? Surely the snow would get to them within the next hour, and it wasn't like the caves on Illyria were empty. Monsters lurked in nearly every dark corner. Going to one of them purposefully would be just as bad as stripping in the snow.
"It's a small village called 'HearthDale'. I didn't realize it was this close." Rhysand raised a brow, huffing carefully as the snow crunched below him.
"The DragonBorne village? I thought we wanted to live, Azriel."
Rhys and Cassian side eyed one another as Azriel failed to respond; a small shrug was all Cassian could offer as he sped up the pace. Laughing gently when they approached a small porch. The wood creaking under their boots as they made their way up. Azriel knocked a couple of times. His wings stretching out now that some of the wind was gone. "Y/n? We need some assistance out here!" Cassian blinked, his body stiffening instinctively when a couple of large crashes rang through the inside of the house. Followed by some curse words in some old dead language.
Rhysand grabbed the handle of his knife. Expecting some resistance from whoever lived here. Soon enough, the door opened. A woman wearing what they could only call leathers opened the cabins door. Her bright orange eyes peering at all of them.
Rhysand had never actually seen a DragonBorne up close, but now that he did? He understood exactly why the war camps avoided them.
The woman had to have been a bit taller than them, her dark almost golden wings flaring out a bit as she regained balance. Tattoos sliding up her neck and down her arms. Sharp teeth and blackish colored skin on her hands.
She looked horrifying.
"Azriel?" The woman blinked a couple times before grabbing the shadowsinger and dragging him in, grumbling almost the same as he did. "Take off those leathers! You all will get hypothermia!" Her hair was wet, almost like she too had just gotten out of the storm. Cassian and Rhysand hesitantly began to strip of their jackets as she left the room, returning with some folded clothes. "Trudging through Illyria this time of year, the lot of you ought to be daft!" The woman practically shoved the clothes into Azriel's hands. Glaring daggers at him.
"Are you daft, Shadowsinger?" She raised a brow, crossing her arms expectingly.
Azriel looked at the clothes. Mumbling carefully. "No, we are not daft." She only glared harsher at him, letting out a hum before Azriel finally broke.
"Yes, we are daft." She nodded, her eyes rolling as she put their boots and jackets away in a closet. "I cannot believe you all forgot just how horrible the weather is this season. Not only are beasts in their mating seasons, but the storms are worsening quickly. You are daft!" She scowled at all of them before walking into the living room and leaving them to change.
Cassian finally relaxed, carefully rubbing his wings in hope he could feel them one more, completely dumbfounded by the woman's confidence. Scolding the night court officials like they were below her? Who does something like that. He gently nudged Azriel's shoulder with his own. Looking down at the undressed Illyrian.
"Who's the hothead? She knows you right?" Azriel just let out a hum, jumping up a bit to get the sweatpants on. his hands already moving to tie the strings.
"Well- it's a bit hard to explain but awhile back I had to do some diplomacy between the camps and here, her father is the Falkor-" He looked over at his brothers. Blinking a couple of times as they tilted their heads at him.
"- the village leader? their lord?" Rhysand's mouth formed an oh before he nodded. Pulling the shirt over his head carefully and pushing his wings through the slits on the back, flexing them carefully as the membranes finally warmed up.
"So, you two know each other well enough to scold?" Rhysand fixed his shirt as he spoke, the loose fabric already warming him,
Azriel looked into the other room, zipping up the jacket that was given him and shoving his hands into the pockets. Sighing softly as he too found warmth. (Unlike Cassian, who was still shivering and rubbing his arms and hands like a child.) "Sort of, they don't pick people based off of knowing them for long... their dragons pick and choose who comes into their life." Rhysand finally fully turned towards Azriel.
"Dragons...?"
As if on cue a little runt of a dragon peaked through the doorway, its black wings shifting as it walked to the middle of the opening and screeched. Sitting there like a protector of the home. Azriel chuckled. Leaning down and letting the dragon sniff him.
"Hello Aragon, cranky, aren't you?" The little dragon let out a noise that resembled a growl, flapping its wings and walking up to Azriel's pants before climbing up to his shoulders quickly. Resting on his frame now. Cassian watched in bewilderment- that was a dragon. An actual, real life, dragon. The myth they told in Illyria to scare the children into training.
'If you don't do your morning trainings then a dragon will come and scoop your frail little body up!' He took a step back, him and Rhysand now standing shoulder to shoulder.
"What? She's just a fledgling. Can't even produce magic yet." Azriel smiled softly as he scratched under the dragon's chin, the scaley baby leaning into his shoulder and shifting his weight on Azriel's shoulder.
I love how Az is this dark, mysterious, scary torturer, but he has some beautifully tender moments with Nesta.
He buys her a present, knowing full well she didn't get him one (not out of any ill intent, but just because she wasn't planning on going to the party). He gifts it to her in front of everyone. And it's not just any present that could be gifted to anyone, but it's specific to Nesta. A present that he knew she would love and treasure because he pays attention to her and cares about her. Her reaction is priceless. Nesta - who's not keen on physical affection - leaps up and throws her arms around Azriel, and Az - who's also not big on physical affection - pulls her in for an embrace and gives her a gentle squeeze 🥰
In HOFAS, Az tries so hard to coax the Mask off Nesta, not even moving away when she could kill him with one swipe of Ataraxia. When Nesta finally takes the Mask off, he catches her before she falls, bringing her tightly to his chest, and gently strokes her hair 😍
I love these two so much, and I can't wait to see what tender moments we get from them in Az's book.
