Shadow and Song
The sleepy town of Prythian is too small for two sindicates to exist. Territory is in short supply, you either die conquiring or defending it, there is no in between. The Night Court Maffia and Autumnal clan have been caught in a generation's long struggle for territory. Hewn City, Night Court headquarters, is run by a mysterious Azriel, who keeps his distance towards everybody but a beautiful copper-haired singer. What happens when the latest fight for territory finds its way into Hewn City and the angelic singer is caught in the crossfire? Will it be Azriel or The Monster that saves her?
Read on AO3 or under the cut!
This work was written as a gift for my dear friend @trashforazriel. One of the kindest people I have ever met and who deserves all the light in the world. Thank you for always supporting me, friend, this one is for you <3
The air was on fire. Not the literal sense, he knew what that felt like, his burned hands were the permanent reminder of that. This was the heat of battle. A familiarity less visible but just as present in his mind.
As a member of the Night Court Maffia, Azriel was no stranger to violence. Hewn City, Night Court headquarters, and the most popular club in Prythian was proof of that. Even though it was established as a safe haven, bodies ended up in more places than just the dance floor.
He felt in his bones that tonight would be no different. Tensions had risen between the Night Court Maffia and the Autumnal Clan for decades. Territory was scarce in Prythian, you either seized or safeguarded, and there was nothing in between.
The newspaper talked about discoveries of a new planet, Azriel hoped it would grant more peace, but he knew it would cause more greed. Territory meant money, money meant power, and power meant control.
The original war started between the heads of each organization: Beron from the Autumnal Clan, and Zephyr from the Night Court Maffia. Power was hereditary, so naturally like his black hair, the Maffia was inherited by Rhysand from Zephyr.
Whilst Azriel was a brother to Rhysand, like the Night Court, he was just another inheritance.
As a child, Azriel was recruited as a spy for Zephyr. It started out as a peaceful undertaking. He followed competitors and suspected traitors and reported back. The more useful he proved himself, the more violent his assignments became.
He soon became the torture master of the Night Court, earning the name Monster of Hewn City. Although he hated the name almost as much as he loathed himself after every torture session, he appreciated the alter ego. It allowed him to live in relative peace as Azriel. Away from the screams, the violence, and the death.
He would often get lost in memories of his past and responsibilities of the present, the lilting tunes of music that played in the background slowly brought him back to the world in front of him.
Rhysand insisted on having a whole orchestra present every Thursday night. Trumpets, a harmonium, and a theremin occupied the entire stage.
Rhysand was right about the magnetism of the orchestra, it did bring a lot of people in every week, but it was not the music that brought those males in. It was the delicate hands that played the piano, the magnetizing voice, and the angelic female to whom both belonged.
Her most popular piece was something he often heard but which somehow never sounded the same. Sometimes, when business was slow, he would accompany her on the piano. He had asked his mother one day to teach him the tunes for exactly these moments. The rarity of peace she provided was what he came to live for. The smile she would give him every time they would play together.
Every time she started singing, the piercing angelic voice carried him into a different world where only they existed. Slowly, the world faded to black, and the only thing left to see was her. Only her.
Tonight she was wearing a teal-colored dress that contrasted her copper hair in such a way it was impossible not to stare- as proven by every person in the club who was staring. He wanted to punch every single one of them in the face, so they wouldn’t be able to look at her anymore, and the only eyes on her would be his.
In his mind, his hand often roamed where only his eyes were allowed.
Tonight was no different. In his mind, he ran one of his scarred fingers up her leg that exposed so much of her bare pale skin. Up up up where he would take his time to place soft kisses on the soft skin of her stomach. Then he would take his touch to her perfect breasts. He would worship them as if it was the last time he was allowed their sight. Then he would move his fingers to caress her neck. He would take those gloves off her hands, and suck on one of her slender fingers, never losing eye contact, to tease her about what else he could do with his tongue.
Even though it felt like sacrilege to touch something so celestial with his violent hands, the attraction was stronger than the impiety. And he would gladly go to hell if it meant one moment in heaven.
It would have angered him that so many people received the gift that was her uncovered beauty if he didn’t appreciate the sight of it so much himself.
This place of violence didn’t deserve her presence of beauty. Her illuminating light in the omnipresent smoky darkness.
To underline his point, he lit another cigarette and walked to his usual spot hidden in the corner at the end of the bar. Where he could observe her light, but never obscure it.
He was alone in the bar tonight, most nights Rhysand worked in his office, not to be disturbed, and Cassian had his obligations as a bouncer at the front of the club.
His domain was the bar and the club. Tables littered the space and every seat was filled with servants ready to worship their goddess. It provided the perfect vantage point. He could see her, and every person in the crowded space. He could assess the threats before they arose, and handle them if needed.
He hated how he could never focus all of his attention solely on her, but some sick bastard always found his way in. Ready to take what they thought was rightfully theirs.
He gladly reminded them they should keep their disgusting thoughts and hands to themselves, and if anybody crossed that line, The Monster would give them a private lesson in manners in the shadows of the back alley. He would punch, punch, punch common sense in the worst of them. And if that didn’t work, he always had truth-teller, his ally in the pursuit of duty and integrity.
If she was anybody’s, she would be his. And he would happily remind everybody of this.
He took another inhale of his cigarette, hoping the nicotine would calm his nerves. He already saw another male undressing her with his eyes. Time for another appearance of The Monster.
But it was not the nicotine that spread the calm warmth throughout his body, it was her eyes that found his.
The whole world stopped, even her voice faded to black. Only they existed in this plane of shared recognition. She smiled and he couldn’t help but also move the corners of his mouth when a sparkle appeared in her eyes.
Those teal eyes reminded most of the sea, but it reminded him of her. he dreamt of those eyes. He pictured those eyes on him when she didn’t look. And he cherished the moments she did grant him her gaze.
Tonight would be the night.
He would confess his feelings and claim her in more than just his dreams.
He would ask her to stay a little bit longer, when all other people had long left the space and worship was solely reserved for him. He would give her the flowers he brought every night and this time they would not end up in the trash but in her hands.
He could already imagine the ways her eyes would light up at the gift of her favorite flowers- lilies.
She would hold them in her delicate hands and her other hand would be in his scarred one. Together they would walk along the Sidra, where he would stop at his favorite spot next to the bridge where he would confess everything.
How her laugh eased all tension from his body. How he recognized her copper hair from across every space- even after death. How her name was a prayer on his lips and her eyes the portal home.
Dreams were his preferred reality because of her.
Everything always came down to her.
Gwyn. Gwyn. Gwyn.
“Gwyn. You’re coming with us.” A heavy voice said from across the room. Shattering the spell in an instant.
His eyes quickly scanned the space in search of the threat, when he found the large auburn-haired male standing next to the door, commanding Gwyn like a dog.
Over his dead body.
“You know Beron forbade you from coming here.” The voice bellowed. It would have been quite impressive how loud his voice carried throughout the crowded space if it wasn’t so annoying.
“Eris what the fuck are you doing here?” Azriel said as he walked over toward the next alleyway occupant.
He spread his wings wide, to obscure Gwyn from sight and to give one final warning.
Suddenly gunshots replaced the sound of Gwyn’s angelic singing.
He never moved so fast in his life. His legs moved before his mind could tell them where to go.
His whole being was permanently single-mindedly focused on her and for once it was actually useful.
Time stopped as another bullet split the air.
He jumped in front of Gwyn in what felt like slow motion.
Suddenly, the air lit up in a flash of bright light. And everybody around them stumbled over their feet. The light came from Gwyn. How did she do that?
He seemed to be protected from the light in a sphere of darkness, and he quickly made use of the distraction as he threw truth-teller against the male who almost touched Gwyn.
But Gwyn had already punched the red-haired male in the face. He didn’t think he could be any more turned on than when he saw her play the piano. Gods was he wrong.
He had to force himself to focus on the fight in front of him because his cock was giving him different orders.
“Gwyn are you okay?” he quickly said to her presence behind him.
“Do you have another knife?” she yelled back.
He laughed as he handed her a couple of the knives he always tucked in a sheath on his back.
Together they stood back to back in the middle of the crowded room, circling the wide space. Assessing the next threat.
They didn’t have to wait long as a couple of the Autumn bastards encroached on their circle. As if they could reach each other’s minds, both their knives at the same time, hitting their targets straight in the heart.
He was too late though, because Eris made his way across the room. “NO, I told you I don’t work for him” Gwyn yelled into the empty space as she was carried on his back. Kicking her legs against his back.
Azriel’s heart suddenly beat fast. His breath quickened. It was as if his body wasn’t receiving enough oxygen.
His muscles tensed up.
He needed his body to act, not whatever the hell was happening now.
The world flashed by and he could hear Gwyn scream in the background.
As if a flip was switched, suddenly survival mode kicked in, and The Monster was back.
His eyes quickly scanned the room for auburn hair, Eris was surrounded by five males. Easy.
He removed the bowtie and undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, now he could breathe again. There was a pool table behind him, so he grabbed one of the cues and snapped it in half on his leg. He swirled the two broken pieces in circles in the air to create momentum as he punched the two nearest males in the face with all the force he could muster.
They immediately fell down onto the ground. Weak bastards, he thought as he stepped over the two incapacitated bodies.
He dropped the cue’s on the ground. His fists worked just as well.
The next male turned around with force, and as he prepared his gun, Azriel punched him in the gut, then his hand, and then his face. The male went down in an instant.
Another male moved behind Azriel and held him in place by encircling his shoulders. The last male prepared to punch him in the chest. Cowards.
Azriel made use of the support the male gave him as he kicked the male standing opposite in the chest. The male stumbled back into the tables behind him. Next, he kicked the person holding him on the foot whilst he moved his head with force onto his chin. He could hear some teeth break and a muffled “FUCK”.
“AZRIEL” a voice screamed from the door.
Eris was fast. But Azriel was faster. He moved like a shadow in the wind towards the last place he heard the angelic voice. He could just catch the copper hair turning around the corner as he raised his voice louder than he ever had before “ERIS let her go.”
“Now why would I do that, brute?” a maniacal voice answered.
“You’ll die tonight if you don’t.”
“And who is going to kill me, heir to the Autumn clan? Some low-life bastard like you? Don’t be ridiculous.” He said as he started to turn around to face him.
But Azriel wasn’t talking about himself.
“ARGH” that same voice bellowed as a knife struck him in the back.
Azriel hurried towards them just in time to catch Gwyn when Eris fell to the floor with a loud thud.
“Are you okay?” both asked simultaneously.
He laughed.
Tonight was still the night.
He carried her in his arms towards the back of the club. Towards his office which he knew was safe.
He quickly redid his bowtie and shirt buttons, he needed to look his absolute best.
The office was small but elegant. Several bookcases filled the space behind his mahogany desk. The baroque blue wallpaper accompanied the beige couch perfectly. He sat her down on it and took up the empty space next to her. She immediately moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. She looked up as she said, “so, you come here often?”
He smiled and put his hand where he had wanted to put it ever since he met her: home.
