Summary: Your mate, Azriel, notices how your eyes wander whenever a certain redhead is in the room.
Warnings: sexually suggestive content, idk if there's anything else
Words: 1k
Author's Note: I'd hoped to add some smut to this before posting day but... oh well lol. That could always be a part 2 if I feel the need. Let me know what you think!
18+ only pls
💙🧡🤍🧡💙
Your mate was perfect.
Azriel was everything you’d ever wanted in a mate, and more. He was sweet, gentle, and caring, not to mention the handsomest male you’d ever met.
And yet… Your eyes wandered.
Tonight was no different.
Eris Vanserra, the newly crowned High Lord of Autumn, had been invited to the revel in the Hewn City tonight, and your eyes were on him the majority of the time that you weren’t wrapped up in Azriel. Currently, he was off doing surveillance on your brother’s orders, meaning you were free to observe the foreign High Lord as much as you liked.
You felt a slight chill as Azriel’s shadows wrapped around you, his arms following soon after. “See something you like?” he asked lowly in your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin.
Your cheeks flushed red at knowing you’d been caught, but your eyes still stayed on Eris. “Maybe…” you whispered.
“It’s fine if you do, sweetheart. You know I want to make you happy however I can.” You twisted your neck to look in his hazel eyes, and found that he was telling the truth.
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you be… jealous?” you asked quietly.
“Only if I couldn’t participate,” Azriel said, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise you that I am open to you inviting Eris into our bed.”
“You promise promise? You won’t be secretly mad at me?”
“I swear on our bond that I will not be mad, Y/N. In fact…” Azriel pulled you closer to him, your rear brushing against his hardness. “I would gladly ravish you with another male.”
Your cheeks turned scarlet at his words, heat rushing to your core as you debated the possible consequences of approaching Eris. If he said yes, you would get to have sex with your mate and the male who’s lived in the back of your mind since you met him. But if he said no, there’s a possibility your offer would get back to Rhys… Who would no doubt be furious that his little sister tried to have a threesome with Eris.
You didn’t have time to decide when Eris approached the pair of you, his casual confidence and ease in your court only fanning the flames of your desire.
“I thought I felt a pair of pretty eyes on me all night,” Eris said as he stood at your left side, grabbing a flute of faerie wine from a passing tray. “Trying to spy on me for your brother, Princess?”
“No, I…” you started, but your words failed you with him this close.
“She was admiring how appealing you look tonight,” Azriel said bluntly, his amusement at your sudden shyness flooding down the bond.
“Oh? And you let your pretty little mate look at other males, Shadowsinger?”
“I let my pretty little mate do whatever she likes, so long as she tells me about it.” You gently slapped Azriel’s arm, face somehow heating even further.
Eris turned his head to look at you, a smirk sliding over his face when he saw your cheeks. “Would you like for me to take you into a secluded hallway and have my way with you?”
Your knees almost gave out at the intensity in his eyes. “Not a hallway…”
“Where then, little Princess?”
“We could show you to our rooms,” you said quietly, turning your body so that you were facing him. “My mate wants to play with me too.”
“If that is what it takes for me to fuck you senseless, so be it,” Eris said, that smirk still on his face. “Show the way, little one.”
Your heart beat faster - inviting Eris to bed and actually going to bed with Eris were two entirely different things, especially when you’d been thinking about this very moment for months. You nodded your head and pulled yourself from Azriel’s arms, taking one of his hands and heading for your room. It was difficult to not look behind you to make sure Eris was serious as you left the throne room, and even more difficult to make it all the way to your rooms without letting the both of them take you in some random hallway where anyone could see.
After an eternity of walking, you made it to the room that was kept for you in the Hewn City. You swung the door open and entered first, letting Azriel’s shadows close the door silently behind the three of you.
Standing in one of the rooms you shared with your mate, another male poised to fuck you, you grew nervous.
“Come here, little bird,” Eris cooed, his hands extended towards you. You hesitated, but Azriel gently pushed your back, spurring you into motion. You were in Eris’s arms in the next moment, heart fluttering as you gazed up at him, eyes darting from amber ones to his plush, pink lips. Eris leaned in, mouth poised over yours as he waited for you to take that final step, to be sure that you wanted this.
You pushed up on your toes, lips meeting his. They were as soft as you’d imagined, warmed by the fire running through his veins. You felt Azriel’s desire coursing through the bond as Eris deepened the kiss, one of his hands coming to tangle in your hair.
He was intoxicating already, better than the wine that was being served downstairs. Heat coursed through you as his free hand drifted lower, coming to grip your ass through the skirts of your dress. Your own hands found his hair, gripping the silky locks tightly. When he broke away for air, Azriel was behind you, turning your head so that he could claim your lips. You were dizzy with need between the two males, more than ready to be taken to bed, hopefully until the sun began to break over the mountains.
4. What’s a poly+ fic you haven’t written that you want to? Why?
Okay so spoilers
I want to write Neapolitan Bonds second baby being a uh oh and it’s Azriel’s. I want to explore him having to navigate the traumas he saw Rhys go through with Nyx and his issues of being a bio dad. The nail in the coffin is the baby is a girl 😛 cause I want to put them through it.
of sound mind (poly!azris x Hewn City!reader)🌈
-> series masterlist
their favourite Day Court Princess (reader is not a fan of her new mates)🌈
name your price (azris tries to convince Dawn Court healer to join them)☀️
OMG i was so excited to see the update for azris x hewn city reader!! i love them i can’t wait to see the bond snap for her and hopefully they can help her with her powers 😭
thanks for reading!! <3
poly!azris x Hewn City!reader who travels to Day for answers [2.6k words]
part 7 <- part 8 | series masterlist
CW: hurt/comfort, some angst
Azriel isn’t really an overly affectionate kind of male.
Smiles are few and far between, touches are subtle and usually reserved for behind closed doors, and he isn’t one to flaunt his relationship status, mostly due to the nature of his work and reinforced by the nature of his and Eris’ bond.
He certainly isn’t one for public displays of affection, and there’s part of him—the diplomat—that feels he should be doing a better job at keeping up appearances when visiting another court.
Still, Azriel can’t help but preen a little bit by how close you stay tucked to his side as the two of you follow Rhysand and Feyre through the hallways of the Day Court palace.
The staff member who was leading the four of you through the halls comes to a rather abrupt halt outside of the door which sees you grab Azriel’s arm, and he knows Eris will feel the way his end of the bond thrums with contentment even from his place in Autumn.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, taking the excuse to bend down closer to your ear.
You shrug your shoulders carefully, eyeing the staff member and strengthening your hold on Azriel.
“Helion is a friend of the Night Court,” he explains in a way he hopes is soothing. “He’s friendly…maybe too friendly, even.”
You turn to look up at him in question and Azriel’s heart nearly stops; you’re one of the most precious things he’s ever had the luck to gaze upon, to walk beside.
He wonders whether telling you that you’ll see what I mean is cruel or not before the grand doors to Helion’s personal study open up, and Azriel resorts to returning your hold instead, placing his hand atop of yours where it rests in the crook of his arm.
“Rhysand! Feyre!” Helion greets warmly as the High Lord and Lady step in, prompting the High Lord of Day to stand and offer each a warm hug. “I was glad to receive your missive this morning. I must say, I do wish you’d take advantage of my hospitality more often.”
“Thank you for having us,” Feyre greets in response.
You tense when Helion’s eyes catch on you and Azriel.
“Shadowsinger,” Helion croons, watching the way you shift further into the spymaster’s side as though hoping to take refuge in his ribcage. “What do we have here?”
“This is our friend, Y/N,” Rhysand supplies for you, a hint of sympathy shining in his eyes at what it can feel like to have the weight of Helion’s attention solely on you. “She’s who we wrote about.”
“The necromancer,” Helion hums in acknowledgement. “Spectacular. Extraordinary, really. Please, come. Have a seat.”
Feyre and Rhysand do as instructed, and while Azriel tries to be a gentleman and pull your chair out for you, you don’t budge from his side.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sitting?” he murmurs into your ear. You merely hold him tighter.
“I wouldn’t want to let go of him either, gorgeous.” Helion agrees, shooting you a wink. Azriel thinks your cheek might leave third degree burns where it’s pressed against his bicep. “So, what is it you have for me?”
“Well, the Night Court’s libraries don’t have any content on necromancy, and we’re hoping that Day might have more,” Feyre explains. “The goal is to get Y/N to a place where she can control her powers.”
Helion hums in understanding as he considers you.
“Apparently, Amren has seen this kind of power twice before,” Rhysand fills Helion in. “She was…unhelpful as to how to manage it.”
Azriel fights the urge to wrap his wings around you, recalling the meeting they held in Rhys’ study after having you seen by Madja and given calming tinctures to help you sleep. He’s not sure he’ll soon forget the way Amren’s bob bounced as she shrugged a flippant shoulder.
“Historically, we drowned them. I doubt that option will interest anyone though, seeing as these two have decided to keep this one as a pet.”
The subsequent attempted arson notwithstanding, they were able to come up with a game plan the next morning.
“Well, as you well know, Day’s resources are infinite, and I’ve had the perfect researcher assigned to the case.”
Helion’s words are punctuated by the sound of the doors flying open and a rather harried librarian rushing in with a stack of books and papers in her arms.
She stops in the middle of the room and gawks at you.
“Iara, thank you for joining us,” Helion greets the newcomer. “This here is the High L-”
“Is that her?” Iara interrupts, jutting her chin towards you. “Is that the necromancer?”
Azriel’s grip on you strengthens before you even have a chance to strengthen yours on him.
Helion offers his guests an apologetic smile. “Yes, this is Y/N, she-”
Iara comes surging towards you so quickly that you actually let out a nervous shout, and Azriel feels dangerously violent as his shadows billow out from his side and create a wall between you and the librarian.
“Iara, I ask that you conduct yourself with some decorum in the presence of our guests,” Helion chides patiently. “You are in the presence of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, as well as their Spymaster and their new friend.”
“I’m so sorry,” Iara breathes, looking very sorry indeed though she still can’t seem to wrench her gaze away from you. “So sorry, my Lord. Lords. And Lady. I- I’m just-”
“Excited, yes,” Helion agrees. “As am I.”
“Helion is known across Prythian as the Spell-Cleaver,” Rhysand supplies evenly to you. “He has a love for puzzles and study.”
“And that’s putting it lightly,” Helion agrees, smiling kindly at you as Iara finally places her research in front of her High Lord and takes a seat beside him. “You’re an interesting case study indeed, dear Y/N.”
You let out a nearly silent breath of frustration that the other individuals in the room don’t catch but has Azriel biting back a chuckle.
“So, most of the sources I was able to find on necromancy were archaic,” Iara begins, lighting up as she goes from seemingly zealot to academic in the blink of an eye. “Generally, fae were working to perform necromancy—to converse with the dead—rather than possessing the ability innately. But, it appears that there was once a race of fae who are said to have possessed the power.”
“Fascinating, truly fascinating,” Helion hums.
“They were particularly popular among the mortal populations who often sought them out in hopes of connecting with their lost loved ones. When promised with death more imminent than our own, it seems that necromancers brought mortals much comfort.
“There was some intermingling of the two species for a number of years before tensions between the beings began to fray,” Iara continues. “When the necromancing fae refused to enslave their human counterparts, they were killed alongside them.”
“I was able to find some first hand accounts of these fae—journals, interviews, the likes. Though they need to be translated,” Iara explains.
“We have a librarian who can handle that,” Feyre hums, turning towards you. “Would you like the journals of-”
Feyre hardly has the question before you’re shaking your head no.
“You don’t think it’d be helpful to see the way someone with your power wielded it?” Helion asks gently.
You shake your head no, and Azriel pulls you further into his side. “Why not?”
You swallow thickly, eyes flicking to the members of the group as you work yourself up to speak. “It-” you pause to clear your throat, scratching from disuse. “-belongs to someone who has… passed.”
Helion considers you. “Is that how these beings approach you? With access to a personal item of theirs?”
You shrug a shoulder noncommittally. “Sometimes.”
“But not all of the time?” Helion continues, endlessly patient in communicating with you.
“Places,” you admit quietly. “People too.”
“Very interesting,” he hums.
“What if we had Clotho translate the sources for you? Could you read a translated copy without summoning the original author?” Feyre asks.
You seem unconvinced, but sway your head back-and-forth as if saying maybe.
“I think it’d be worth a try,” Rhysand offers, smiling at you. “If you can’t read it, perhaps I can. And maybe once we learn how to control your powers, you’ll be able to read it yourself.”
“May I ask you something terribly personal, Y/N?” Helion asks then. Your eyes flit to Azriel’s before you shoot the High Lord of Day a cautious nod. “You’re a female of few words; is that because of your abilities?”
You look down in shame, offering a quick, jerky nod of your head.
“How so?”
You sigh. “I don’t always know what… is real.”
“If the person speaking to you is real or not,” he surmises with a purse of his lips.
“And that was dangerous for you,” Rhysand fills in the gaps. “To be caught speaking to a being that couldn’t be seen by others.”
“Can you summon them?” Iara blurts suddenly, stealing everyone’s attention. Azriel gets the feeling Helion is trying to figure out how to gently reprimand his enthusiastic librarian. “The dead; can you summon them?”
“Iara-” Helion begins, only to fall quiet at the first hushed syllable from your mouth.
“I don’t have to,” you murmur. Pride and grief alike taking flight in Azriel’s ribcage, finding you so brave for conversing and hating that you’ve been put in a position that you have to.
“It just happens?” Iara asks.
Azriel can feel you gathering up courage in your chest, nearly nauseous himself at the churning of your stomach and the assault of your pulse against your larynx.
“Your mother is very proud of you,” you whisper. “She thinks you should be too.”
Iara’s mouth falls open and her eyes fill with tears almost instantly. Azriel pulls you further into his side.
“Thank you,” she whispers as the first tear falls. “I- thank you. Thank you.”
Helion places a comforting hand on the librarian's arm and shoots you a warm smile.
“You possess a rare and beautiful gift, my dear,” he tells you earnestly. “I hope one day it is less burdensome for you.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, dipping your chin respectfully.
“None of that, now,” Helion laughs. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
The look you shoot Azriel says you’re not quite sure about that.
After many thanks and a round of farewells—that you reluctantly partook in from Azriel’s side—Helion suggested Azriel seize the opportunity to take you for a quick walk around his court.
Azriel could feel the intrigue stirring in your chest at the prospect of exploring, and he could also feel Eris’ laughter at Azriel’s inability to say no to you.
What reason would I have to deny her this? he asks Eris through the bond.
None at all, Eris hums playfully. It’s only that you didn’t even pretend to think about it.
She wants to see Day, he explains defensively. I’d show her the world if she asked.
Careful, Shadowsinger, Eris muses. One day she very well might.
Cauldron, I hope she does.
Eris agrees before the bond goes silent again.
You’ve since removed yourself from Azriel’s ribcage, though you’ve accepted his gloved hand and have yet to release it as the two of you wander through the streets of Day; children laugh and chase one another, bells chime above shop doors as people patron the businesses, and the two of you can hear the trickling of a fountain neither of you can see yet.
“Azriel?” you break the comfortable silence, almost startling the Illyrian as his hand tightens around your own.
“Yes?”
You swallow before continuing. “Where’s Eris?”
He looks at you in disbelief. “Eris?”
You nod your head yes.
“He couldn’t come, sweetheart.”
You consider his answer, your free hand rising to rub anxiously at your chest. “Why?”
“He…is the heir to the Autumn Court,” Azriel explains carefully. “His father is a terrible male. He’s not happy that his son is mated to someone from the Night Court, one of his greatest rivals.”
You keep your gaze forward as he continues. “Though Eris is able to spend some nights in our court, his father would see it as treasonous should he visit another court seemingly on Night Court business.”
He lets you digest that for a few moments before asking, “Why do you ask?”
You look down at the cobblestone street seemingly almost embarrassed to be asked. But you must be feeling generous because you manage to grace Azriel with a response. “I thought maybe… he was upset with me.”
Azriel feels his brows stitch in the middle, slowly coming to a halt in the middle of the square. “Of course not. Why would he be upset with you?”
You shrug your shoulders, now unable to make eye contact with him.
He brings his hands up to cup your jaw and turn your face towards his own. “Eris cares for you an awful lot; we both do.”
Your eyes flicker between both of his own as though searching for something.
“Yes,” you whisper eventually.
Not an I know, not an alright, not even a why? Just…yes.
“Is that okay?” Azriel asks softly, thumb trailing the line of your jaw as he fears your potential rejection. “That we care about you?”
Azriel can’t really believe he has you like this; speaking to him, eyes searching his face, your face in his hands, the trust you’ve shown in him not only today but since the two of you met.
He decides that—regardless of your answer—he will be eternally grateful for this moment with you.
“I’m not sure why,” you admit carefully, breaking Azriel’s heart in a completely different way.
“Do we need a reason?”
“Yes,” you whisper immediately, like the idea of anyone loving you for just you is a completely foreign concept.
Azriel’s trying to come up with an answer when your gaze flickers to something over his shoulder and you go rigid beneath his touch, eyes growing distant as the bond thrums with anxiety.
“Y/N?” he asks, strengthening his hold on you. “Hey, sweetheart. What is it?”
You shake your head no.
“Azriel?” Feyre asks delicately, she and Rhys suddenly behind you. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” he ventures slowly.
What’s going on? Eris sounds in Azriel’s mind. Is she okay?
I don’t know, he repeats internally.
You don’t know if she’s okay? Where is she?
“Azriel,” Rhysand hums lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is she alright?”
Azriel wants to shove his brother away from him, wants to scoop you up into his arms and fly you away where no one can ever touch you or upset you.
“Let us help, brother,” he murmurs.
“You have to ask her,” Azriel manages to grit out.
“Of course,” Feyre agrees quickly, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N, it’s okay, alright? You’re alright; can I help?”
You close your eyes in resignation and Feyre wastes no time letting herself into your mind.
Her face falls for the briefest moment before it crumples in pity.
What’s going on? Azriel demands silently.
She knows, Feyre sighs.
Knows what? Rhysand clarifies.
About the mating bond, she admits, shooting Azriel a sympathetic look. She knows the three of you are mates.
Azriel stumbles upon a half-dead fae in Hewn City when the bond snaps, rushing him to get you help. Except he already has a mate, Eris, who comes and confirms that you are, indeed their mate. Except you aren't aware of this. Except you kind of resent the Inner Circle. Except you're terrified of the Night Court and their allies. Except you're quite sure you're not of sound mind.
THEMES:
selective mutism
trauma/PTSD
abuse
hurt/comfort
fluff
one-sided mating bond
⤷ (the bond has snapped for Eris and Azriel, but not for reader [yet])
best read in order listed here!
EPISODES:
of sound mind -> meet cute ugly, reader finds herself free from Hewn but fears she might be somewhere far, far worse. 🌈
silent night[mare] -> azris wakes reader from a nightmare and patches up her wounds. ⛅️
the breakfast club -> reader enjoys a breakfast with Azriel & Cassian, Eris is beyond incensed to hear about it later. ☀️🌈
new friends -> reader finds some friends in Azriel's shadows; Eris is still incensed over it. ☀️🌈
a total loser about it -> Eris thinks he might be failing reader and Azriel, she gives him a little flame of hope to the contrary. ⛅️☀️
perils of sanctuary -> the boys learn about reader's powers. 🌪⛅️
a factory reset -> Eris's quick thinking helps reader through her panic attack. ⛅️🫧
a Day trip -> Azriel brings reader to Day to find answers, they get more than they bargained for ⛅️🌪
Az end eris taking reader to calm down by the ocean after her last freak out (going someplace quite) and eris getting cuteness aggression because of readers adorable reactions to seeing such a large body of water for the first time, collecting seashells, building sand castles, burying cass. and unknowingly releasing his powers so az has to be like "honey you're turning the sand into glass again" and "darling can you please not boil the ocean while we're in it" that sorta thing
this is so cute and actually completely derailed my plans for the next part in the absolute best way. I think this might be my favourite chapter for these three yet, so thank you!
poly!azris x Hewn City!reader who needs a factory reset [1.8k words]
part 6 <- part 7 -> part 8 | series masterlist
CW: panic attack, brief allusion to Eris' shitty childhood, the Vanserra's, this is really so soft and fluffy though
Eris barely spares the action a second thought.
One moment he’s crouched beside you in the library beneath the House of Wind, watching you delve deeper and deeper into a panic over what you were witnessing, over what you just shared for the first time—possibly ever.
The next, he’s sharing a quick glance with Azriel and then winnowing you away.
Now, the sea breeze ruffles his hair and tickles his ears, interrupted only when Azriel winnows to the two of you mere seconds later and manages to block some of the wind with his frame.
The sudden change in sensory input—temperature, wind, sound, and smell—has you wrenching your face from Eris’ chest to look around.
Your sobs cease almost immediately, though it takes a few more minutes for the cadence of your breathing to even out and the hiccups to stop. You gaze wide-eyed out at the ocean, mouth parted in silent awe as the tears begin to dry in sad, salty streaks down your cheeks.
But Eris doesn’t dare try to wipe them away, doesn’t dare distract you from your distraction—not when it seems to be working.
Neither he nor Azriel make a sound, only smiling at you encouragingly when you happen to look at them in ask.
Your hand not currently clutching Eris’ arm like a lifeline comes flying out from your side to grab at Azriel’s leathers, and Eris realizes now—after all of this time—that this is your way of confirming for yourself that the other male is real.
His heart splinters.
“You’re alright,” Azriel murmurs softly, clearly coming to the same conclusion Eris has. Eris momentarily envies his mate for being able to lower his voice to such a timbre that it threatens getting lost in the wind if only he wasn’t standing so close to you.
You swallow thickly before returning your attention to the examination of your new surroundings.
You catalogue the expanse of beach lying exposed by the low tide, the odd boulder still damp with sea and algae, piles of seaweed drying in the tepid air, the pools of water left behind by the receding tide, the gentle waves lapping up against the shore.
Your head whips up to watch a gull soar above your head, twisting in order to follow its path until it disappears well beyond the horizon. You watch the way that the delicate grasses growing from the dunes dance in the wind.
The distant sound of gulls brings your attention back to the shoreline, and Eris feels breathless at the picture you paint.
Lungs finally cooperating with you, you paint the most beautiful—albeit rather solemn—picture. Your hair is mussed from both panic and sea, wisps of it escaping its plaited confines to go the way of the wind. Evidence of your upset still mars your cheeks, but you manage to look regal despite it; chin held high as though basking in the vast skies and salty air.
Once Eris is no longer concerned that you’re about to return to your previous hysterics, he releases his hold on you and bends, removing his boots and socks and rolling his pant legs up.
Azriel places a gentle hand on your elbow in support when Eris moves to remove yours too.
You don’t ask questions, though your movements are apprehensive as you lift one leg at the tap of his finger against your ankle, allowing him to untie your boots and slide your socks from your foot.
You hiss when your foot lands in the sand, and Eris chuckles.
“Feels weird, huh?” Azriel murmurs, a smile evident in his tone. You must nod in response; though Eris can’t see it from his place at your feet, he feels pride and bliss blooming down the bond from Azriel.
Once both of your feet are bare and sandy, Eris rises to his full height, relinquishing you from Azriel’s hold so the other male can do much the same.
“Come,” Eris hums, encouraging you towards the waterline.
You don’t hesitate, allowing him to lead you towards the sea, the sand growing denser and denser the closer to the water you get. The texture causes your nose to wrinkle as the packed sand shifts and cracks beneath your feet, and Eris has to bite back the laughter that threatens to escape his lips at how adorable you look.
Eris halts and you do too, gasping when the tail end of a wave tickles your toes before retreating back towards the sea.
“Is it cold?” Azriel asks from your other side.
You nod in response, cautiously releasing your hold from Eris in favour of hiking up your skirts and wading further into the water.
Eris and Azriel watch from the shore line, their mate now ankle deep in the Western Sea as she watches her own feet sink in the sand beneath the waves.
“Quick thinking,” Azriel murmurs for Eris’ ears only, the edge of his wing gently nudging Eris’ shoulder. “Pretty big gamble though.”
Eris huffs a laugh. “For a female who saw the sky for the first bloody time a mere month or so ago.”
“This could have backfired majorly,” Azriel agrees, clearly pleased beyond measure that it didn’t.
“My mother used to do this,” Eris admits then, eyes glued to you as you bend down to touch something beneath the waves, the hem of your skirts licking the water and darkening in colour. “Would bring us to the sea. After a tantrum, or a punishment from our father. It was like a factory reset.”
Eris turns to find Azriel looking at him fondly. “She’s a brilliant female.”
Eris hums in agreement, returning his gaze to you. “Of course, the beaches of Autumn are far superior than those of the Night Court but, alas-”
“Prick,” Azriel laughs, bumping his shoulder playfully. “She’s a brave female, too. I can’t imagine bringing seven babes to the beach.”
It’s Eris’ turn to laugh. “No, no. Never all of us at once, hardly ever more than one at a time. That was…that was just for each of us.”
Azriel hums in understanding. “Well, in that case, thanks for letting me tag along.”
Eris turns towards him then, gracing the Illyrian with a rare, genuine smile before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.
They turn back out towards the sea to find you facing them, looking shy as though being caught doing something naughty for simply witnessing your mates kissing each other.
“You can come, darling,” Eris tells you, wishing he could pull you into him and press a kiss to your lips as well.
With time, hopefully.
You acquiesce, gaze pointed to the ground as you keep your skirts in one hand and hold your other fist aloft.
“Did you find something, sweetheart?”
Some of that shyness shifts into something akin to pride as you open your fist, exposing a small shell.
“Well isn’t that pretty,” Eris hums at the white and orange cockle in your hand. “I think we could probably find some more in one of the tide pools, if you’d like to take a look.”
You follow the direction of his finger and light up at the prospect, handing the shell to Azriel—for safe keeping, Eris assumes—before gathering the rest of your skirts and heading towards the closest tide pool.
Eris quickly dries the hem of your dress with a flick of his wrist.
“I need the Night Court to do me a favour, please,” he blurts suddenly, causing Azriel’s steps to halt in his pursuit of you.
“What is it?”
Eris keeps his gaze locked on you as you crouch at the edge of the tide pool, wishing he had the ability to paint so he could capture this image forever. Maybe he’ll commission a portrait from Feyre, let down his mental walls long enough for her to capture this moment in time.
“I have read every book in the Forest House’s library and have never come across anything like necromancy,” he explains. “I assume the same can be said for the Night Court.”
Azriel nods slowly.
“I need you to go to Day, please. Make use of their innumerable resources and do some research. Knowing them, they probably have an entire library dedicated to powers such as these.”
“You won't come?” Azriel asks then, though he likely already knows the answer.
“I can’t come,” Eris spits bitterly. “I won’t be able to explain why I’m heading to another court’s libraries for personal business, and if Beron thinks I’m conducting business in Day on behalf of Night?”
He doesn’t bother finishing the thought; knows he doesn’t have to when Azriel sighs quietly.
“But I want her to get the help she needs. I need her to get the help she needs, and we need to understand what we’re working with; what we’re up against.”
“I know, Eris,” Azriel murmurs softly, “I know. I’ll make sure of it, she’s well looked after.”
“I know,” Eris supplies in turn. “I know she is, that you do. I don’t say any of this because I doubt you-”
“I know,” Azriel repeats, smiling at his mate. Eris doesn’t tire of it; doesn’t think Azriel smiles nearly enough even though he’s selfishly grateful that this particular smile of his is often reserved only for him…and now you.
The moment is interrupted by the sound of your startled squeal, and both males whip towards you, fire simmering at Eris’ fingertips and Azriel’s wings flaring in preparation for a fight.
But they turn to find you having fallen backwards, smiling at the sand as a few of Azriel’s shadows chase a little crab who goes scurrying away like its ass is on fire and disappears into the tide pool.
And then you start to laugh.
Not the short puffs of breath you’ve shared with them before, not even one of the little giggles they heard once when eavesdropping on your conversation with some of Azriel’s shadows.
No, this was a full on belly laugh as you look over at the two males—who you still don’t know are your mates—as if saying did you see that!?
Eris is too stunned by the beautiful sound to do much more than look at you with his mouth agape, but Azriel has always been the better male of the two; he laughs as well.
“Now, what are you doing down there, sweetheart?” Azriel chuckles as he makes his way towards you, offering you a hand and lifting you with ease before brushing the sand from your form.
Eris wants you to get the help that you need; needs you to get the help that you need.
He has no worries at all that Azriel will see to it.
hi girlypop!! i am obsessed with you, jsyk. but the azris x hewn!reader series is quite possibly one of my favorite things i've ever read. i'm SO in love with those three and can't wait to see where it goes! also...what the heck is her power??? she's gonna have to be pretty bomb to be matched with the shadowsinger and future high lord of autumn!!
eeek! sorry to keep you waiting! hope it was worth it <3
poly!azris x Hewn City!reader who needs help [1.7k words]
part 5 <- part 6 -> part 7 | series masterlist
CW: slight angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety and internal spiralling, talk of the deceased, vaguely and briefly references the priestesses past
You’ve said too much.
There’s more of them today. They’re louder than usual.
And now they know your name.
You’re tense as shit at breakfast, hardly able to make eye contact with anyone in the room as you vibrate with nerves and swallow past your gag reflex. Azriel eventually stops asking if you’re okay, though you doubt it’s because he finds the nod (or what was certainly meant to be a nod) that you offer in response particularly convincing.
You thought it’d be quieter in the library.
You hoped there’d be less of them down here.
You were wrong. It’s so much worse.
The priestesses are beloved, brave, brutalized females who stood in the face of death and were rewarded for their resilience with sanctuary in this hallowed temple under the House of Wind.
You’re haunted on their behalf.
You clutch a book to your chest and try to make your way to one of your usual spots, eyes glued to where your boots poke out from the hem of your skirts with every hurried step you take.
You hardly slow when you get to your first spot and find it crowded. You do the same thing at the next. By the third spot, you all but toss the book onto a nearby shelf and turn to flee.
You come face to face with one.
“May we talk?”
“No,” you hiss, eyes burning and pulse racing and stomach in your throat as you try to step around it.
It follows you.
“I promise not to take but a moment of your time,” she insists. You quicken your pace, your heart follows suit.
You chance a look behind you to find the others gaining confidence at the sight of you entertaining their determined acquaintance.
“You need to leave,” you tell her.
Deirdre—the priestess who greeted you kindly on your first visit to the library—looks up from her book and furrows her brows at you in confusion.
You need to leave; you can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t supposed to be here. You should be dead; everyone back home wanted you dead.
Dirdre stands.
She says something to you, concern painting her features.
She takes a step towards you though halts the second you slam back against the wall in response.
She says something else; you’re okay, maybe. You can’t hear; can’t hear her, can’t hear the one who followed you over here nor the ones who followed her in turn. Can’t hear anything past the roaring of blood in your ears.
You clamp your hands over your ears anyway and squeeze your eyes shut. “Go away.”
You can’t keep ignoring us, Y/N.
We know you can hear us.
The first one crouches in front of you, you peel your eyes open from where you’ve sunk to the floor to look at her.
She’s lovely, all things considered. Onyx hair beautifully plaited, diadem placed delicately on her head and the gem dangling prettily between her brows. The blue-grey robes seem to float around her as she looks at you imploringly with clear, turquoise eyes.
“I only need you to give a message to my sister.”
“Stop it,” you spit. “Stop, stop, stop.”
“What’s going on?” Another priestess asks, stepping toward you when Dierdre merely offers her a confused shrug of her shoulders.
This priestess bends down, the perfect mirror to the priestess on your other side save the colour of her robes and of her hair. “Are you alright?”
“Go away.”
“I can’t leave you like this,” the copper-haired priestess tells you, looking back over her shoulder at Dierdre. “What’s your name?”
The beings that surround you begin chanting it. The onyx-haired priestess looks on at her mirror image with a look of fondness; the sister, you’re forced to assume.
She must sense your understanding and tries again. “Please.”
“Get away from me!”
“No one’s here,” Dierdre’s friend says. “It’s just you and me. My name’s Gwyn, can you tell me yours?”
The beings start shouting it again.
“Stop it, stop it.” You’re loudly crying now.
“Okay, okay,” Gwyn agrees quickly. “I’ll stop. I’m not going to do anything. What do you need?”
“I want to leave! I want to leave, I want to go…” Go where? Go home? Where’s home? Hewn City? The same city that tried to kill you? Or is home the House of Wind? Your opulent prison on top of the mountain you’re currently under? Under the scrutiny of the High Lord and his Inner Circle?
Where do you want to go? Where can you go? Where could you possibly go to escape this?
“I want to leave!” is all you can think to say.
“Okay, alright,” Gwyn breathes, looking over her shoulder before shouting, “Dierdre! Get Rhysand!”
“No, Rhys,” Azriel growls, standing behind you like a sentinel and looking fearsome as ever as he stares down his own High Lord currently standing before you. Eris stays silent though he doesn’t necessarily disagree with Rhysand.
“Azriel, she’s hysterical and we’re at an impasse; I won’t do anything without her consent but it’s in her best interest that you encourage her to let me in.”
“She doesn’t want you in her head,” Azriel counters.
“She is suffering,” Rhysand throws back. “She’s scared and no one else can help her. I can help her.”
Eris decides to step in before Azriel can come up with more counter arguments. “She needs help, Azriel.”
The Shadowsinger looks at his mate as though he forgot Eris was even here, the compartmentalization required to do his job limiting his entire world to his subject and the opponent before him.
“It’s Rhysand,” Eris tries then, voice calm and low for both your benefit and Azriel’s. “It’s your brother, you trust him.”
Azriel’s hazel eyes flick between each of Eris’ as he considers his mate’s words.
“Let him help her,” he presses.
Azriel’s wings twitch as he turns back towards Rhysand, whether considering Eris’ words or holding a silent conversation with his High Lord, Eris isn’t sure.
Finally, the tension in Azriel’s shoulders loosen and his wings fall slightly. He lets out a sigh and bends to your level, risking a gentle hand to your shoulder.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly, “you’re okay. Alright? It’s just us; we’re here to help.”
You quickly shake your head no, keeping your hands pinned to your head and your forehead to your knees.
“You don’t think you’re okay?”
Another shake of your head.
“Rhys can help, sweetheart, he-”
“No,” you sob.
“He can, you’re okay. It’s okay, he won’t see anything you don’t-”
“I can’t! I can’t, he can’t. He’s– he’ll kill me. He’s going to kill me.”
“He will not,” Eris counters quickly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “No one here is going to let anything happen to you.”
“We’re here to help,” Azriel continues, trying out your name for size. You flinch at the sound of it. “No one here is going to hurt you.”
You shake your head again.
“I’ll make a bargain with you, if you’d like,” Rhysand offers then. “I swear on the Cauldron that I will not let any harm come of you.”
You only sob.
“I mean it, Y/N, anything you want,” Rhysand promises earnestly. “What do you want?”
You remain silent for a beat as the three males give you space to consider Rhysand’s offer.
Eventually you respond. “I want her to leave.”
The three males look at each other in bemusement.
“You want who to leave?” Rhysand asks carefully.
You sniffle into your knees, still yet to raise your head. “The priestess.”
Eris’ eyes flit across the now vacant library, everyone having long been ordered out once Deirdre came to request the High Lord and Shadowsinger (and their Autumnal guest).
“Do you mean Gwyn?” Azriel ventures. You shake your head no.
“Her sister.”
Rhysand’s head snaps up towards Azriel, a conversation passing between them that Eris is not privy to.
Uhm, hello? he impatiently drawls internally, waiting until Rhysand’s eyes flicker over to him to continue. Want to fill me in on what’s going on?
Gwyn’s twin sister was killed by Hybern’s army at the temple in Sangravah, Rhysand explains silently.
She shouldn’t even know Catrin existed, Azriel adds.
With this, Rhysand pulls at the fabric of his trousers before bending to your level and lets Eris and Azriel watch as he gently knocks on your mental walls.
“Let us help, Y/N,” Rhysand encourages softly. “We’re only here to help.”
You let out another pitiful sound, but Eris watches as the curtains to your consciousness slowly rise.
The library is…full; packed with people hovering around the scene of three males hovering over you, some even calling your name.
Eris immediately steps closer to you and Azriel’s wings flare wide as though trying to shield you from the curious gaze of people only you can see.
And crouched before you, right beside Rhysand, is a priestess who bares a striking resemblance to one of Azriel and Cassian’s Valkyries.
“Mother above…” Rhysand breathes.
“What…what is this?” Eris mutters, tone sharp due to his suspicion. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve…never seen this before,” the High Lord admits, eyes glued to you with an expression that can only be described as a mixture of awe and horror. “I’ve heard legends…rumours…but,”
“But what is it?” Azriel manages to grind out, siphons glowing with protectiveness that Eris feels echoing through the bond.
Rhysand’s eyes finally leave you to look at his brother. “I…I think she might be a necromancer.”
Eris goes to ask him what that means but Azriel beats him to it.
“She can see the dead?”
Rhysand's eyes lower back to you and fall sympathetic. “Hear them too, I imagine.”
Eris takes another moment to consider the sheer number of souls who have accumulated in your psyche.
His mental walls must still be down because Rhysand hums in thoughtful agreement. “And there’s an abundance of them here.”
