The Cost of a Bond.
Pairings: Azriel x fem reader
Summary: Azriel had spent centuries mastering control until the moment he saw you. A bond he couldn’t ignore, an act he couldn’t undo— not that he would want to. But now he’s left with the fallout. Political and personal. Because the mate he risked everything to save never wanted saving in the first place.
Word count: 3.5K
Warnings: Violence, abuse, mentions of slurs
The mortal palace was beautiful in the way a predator was beautiful. Striking yet chilling– the kind of beauty you’d rather appreciate from a distance.
Oceans away Azriel thought, wishing he was back in the Night Court. In Velaris under those familiar stars with the rest of his family–away from these traitors.
Azriel hated being here.
Being in this palace, on this land, breath’s away from the queens who almost destroyed everything he held dear.
Every column in the hall gleamed like a polished fang, chandeliers hung with a gaudy display of gold. It felt almost desperate, that all the embellishment of the room was covering up how the mortal queens were actually so far away from any kind of true class, but instead overindulgent, greedy and simply trying to overcompensate for what they lacked.
There was music murmuring somewhere, a quartet playing something meant to sound elegant, but instead sounded wounded and tight. The air was still, the kind that was brittle and had Azriel’s shadows twitching against his back.
Azriel really hated being here.
Rhysand stood at the bottom of the royal stage, Mor to his right while Azriel flanked them on the left. He stood close to one of those pearly white columns. His shadows discreetly moved around him, settling by his feet on the floor and curling over his shoulders slightly displaying themselves just enough to remind his hosts exactly who he was and what he was capable of.
The Night Court was building an alliance– albeit a fake one– but it still went against every instinct Azriel had.
These surviving queens, the ones who had aligned themselves with Hybern and then Koschei, had endangered his entire family. To even entertain this idea, even if it was all a facade made his skin crawl.
Perhaps that was why he felt so on edge. His gloved fingers twitching at his side, jaw clenching. Maybe it was the garish decor, but there was something about this room that made him feel sick.
Rhysand, charming and poised, voice as smooth as silk. Somehow stirred his way through conversation elegantly. Mor beside him, smiling in a way that almost fooled the Shadowsinger that the Night Court truly was in its era of forgiveness.
He didn’t know how they did it. Azriel wasn’t good at fake smiles and false pretences. He guessed that’s why he was the spymaster and assassin, here as muscle not to form political relationships.
“Now while your attendance is noted, and your gifts…” the oldest of the queens sat centrally, glanced over to the large chest of Velaris jewels that sat at the bottom of the stairs. A bribery, perhaps even slightly too obvious, fitted in quite well with the pathetic flash of wealth this room displayed. “Your gifts are appreciated…but the proposition of an alliance isn’t just something that can be bought.” Her tone was cold, and matter of fact. Laced with a wobble that spoke of the years she had lived and where her voice had worn. Yet she didn’t appear weak, instead hardened by her years on the throne.
The other two queens either side of her. The one to the right, dark long unruly hair, fingers covered in jeweled rings with a mundane bored expression that didn’t seem to match her sense of style. To the left was the youngest queen, still a girl really. There was a slight innocence that came with her younger appearance but Azriel noticed her haunting eyes, sharp and sinister as they scaled over their audience.
“Tell me, why should we trust you now, when your kind has done so little for us on the Continent since the war and even before?” The eldest queen spoke again, her voice louder this time, challenging.
Azriel wanted to scoff, these queens weren’t just cowardly– they were delusional. Entitled. Wholey believed that they were deserving of some kind of retribution.
Azriel. Rhys warned him in his mind.
Azriel hadn’t even realised the snarl he was showing. How his gaze had darkened from the shadow he stood in, teeth showing slightly in disgust. Rhysand’s warning wasn’t up for debate. Azriel schooled his expression before any of the queens even noticed.
Azriel could feel Rhys’s smile without seeing it. That particular practiced curl meant he was seconds from saying something convincing and motivating– something that would get Rhys the exact outcome he’d come here for.
“Because, Your Majesties,” Rhys said smoothly, “we’ve learned that cooperation is the only way you and your people can survive what’s to come.”
The room stilled for a moment. Rhys’ words settling across the room.
The younger of the three queens' eyes widened slightly, inexperience pooling her face as she glanced towards her matrons. Rhys had sounded sweet, but the real implications of his words were still clear.
Rhys had threatened them, in a somewhat charming way. But it was still a threat nonetheless.
One of the queens scoffed then, the one sat to the right with the dark wavy hair. She was a ruler of one of the northern kingdoms, her kingdom managed the mines on the Continent, her reign falling over mountainous terrain that made her kingdom especially fruitful. The jewels that were mined there glimmered in the light, stacks and stacks of detailed designs embedded in stone adorned her fingers. Azriel briefly remembered Rhysand mentioning exactly what jurisdiction the queens fell into, one was of the mines, the other– the youngest he thinks managed the prison. But he couldn't recall any of their names. Didn’t particularly care either.
“And what is to come, High Lord?” she then asked, tone lilting and bored. Twisting the ruby red ring on her forefinger. “You speak as though you see the future. Is this one of your many magical abilities Rhysand?”
The question was loaded. These particular queens had only survived due to their pure disdain for magic– despite the mortal queens all aligning with Hybern and Koschei– these three had kept to their kingdoms to avoid physical conflict. It ultimately saved them from their deserved endings.
Magic was not favoured in their realms, they loathed it. This idea that those not of royal blood could be more powerful. They didn’t allow it, had laws and regulations to avoid it, dampen it— even cull it.
The Night Court had taken note of the civil unrest among magic beings on the Continent. Azriel’s spies had been reporting for months acts of rebellion from magic kind, half-fae and mortals against the monarchy.
It was the perfect ploy for Rhys to get what he wanted, he needed access to these queens archives and leveraging that civil unrest to get in the favour of the Queens was a sure way to do it.
Nevertheless, the queens still sported magic relics on their garments and even this palace was dressed in ancient wards.
The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on Azriel.
There was a shift in Azriel’s shadows, as though they were picking up on something happening rooms away.
Something was wrong– no different–no…something was coming. As though instinct and intuituaion was sending a message to Azriel’s very bones.
Mor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, “We know of the rebellion, the unrest in your kingdoms” she said with a slight smirk, her blonde hair cascading in front of her like an armour.
“You don’t need magic to know that,” the oldest spoke again, “although I wouldn’t call it a rebellion, simply a tantrum.”
It was the youngest queen who spoke next, an eerie tone to her voice “Like a toddler throwing their toys when they don’t get what they want. They just don’t always understand yet…the way the world works. That those smaller, weaker…don’t always get what they want.” She finished her words with a smile. Sickeningly sweet.
Strange girl. Mor thought, her words sharing across to Azriel and Rhys.
Azriel couldn’t agree more. There was something sinister about that queen, perhaps it was why her kingdom managed the prison. You had to be a specific type of evil to run those torture traps. There was something about all of the queens that didn’t sit well with him. Had his shadows wringing round him tightly.
The dark haired queen spoke again then. “You come in here like we need your help…but we can assure you that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
The conversation was taking a turn, politics always did but it was unsettling Azriel tonight. There was this sense of foreboding again, his shadows were nervous. The air felt electric, buzzing with anticipation. He swallowed hard.
And then the doors slammed open.
The sound shattered through the large room.Two guards strided in, dragging a woman by her arms between them.
Azriel’s head turned then, instincts sharpening, every sense focusing. While the guards dragged the limp body to the base of the royal stairs, her legs dragging on the floor behind her.
The mortal queen — the oldest of them — did not so much as flinch.
This was planned Azriel realised as he watched the blood stain smear across the marble floor from the body they dragged in.
The dark haired queen who had seemed so uninterested till now, finally seemed intrigued as she rose from her throne with a smirk. The youngest of the queens raised to join her in their descent down the stairs, bunching her dress up so she could move more swiftly— she was eager.
The eldest remained on her throne.
The guards had dragged the prisoner to the centre of the room. Right between Azriel and the queens.
“Ah,” she said from her throne, her voice gravely. “It seems our special guest has arrived.”
The woman they dragged in— you— was filthy. Blood soaked into torn clothes. A bruise bloomed along your cheekbone, a smear of dried blood at your temple. But even in this state, you somehow managed to hold yourself upright, refusing to bow.
Azriel’s jaw locked.
Azriel had seen worse—had inflicted worse— but there was a tightness in his muscles that was foreign to him. Something about seeing you in front of him had him unsettled.
“Who is this?” Rhysand’s tone was light, but Azriel knew the warning in it.
The youngest queen moved then, glided as she circled you. Every step felt deliberate as though she was eyeing up her prey. That sinister demeanor was settling among her with delight.
“A traitor…” the eldest queen spoke from her throne.
“A nuisance…” the other queen muttered nonchalantly.
“A nobody…” the youngest queen sing-songed.
Azriel was struggling to listen to them though. As he watched you heave against your injuries. The guards had released you. Arms hanging hung limp in front, but still tied together in chains. Azriel could almost feel the ache and pain himself just from watching how your breathing shuddered under your injuries, he watched as your blood slowly pooled by your knees…yet you still didn’t bow. Your head remained upright and strong.
Brave.
It was his shadows that whispered to him. Azriel didn’t know the reasoning for why this female was chained and beaten. She could well be a criminal, but despite that, Azriel struggled to look at the sight before him.
Struggled to understand why it was so hard to look at the sight before him.
He had been on battlefields, been there when the wars settled. When all was left was dismembered figures and soldiers fighting for their lives. But this was hard to look at.
He hadn’t even been able to see your face yet. His gaze staring into the back of this defiant person, who didn’t seem to buckle under royal scrutiny or torture.
It was Mor that spoke next.
That natural confidence she always carried purring out, “A nobody wouldn’t get such a greeting.”
Azriel almost smirked, his gaze looking to his blonde friend for a second at her remark. He swore he saw the corner of your lips twitch too.
But the youngest queen stopped her prowl round the prisoner then, face forming into a scowl at being corrected by Mor.
Mor was right. A “nobody” wouldn’t get such a display, such attention especially from the monarchy. Which begged the question of who you were.
“That is true,” the eldest queen replied. Her gaze steady on the prisoner that had been brought in. “This one isn’t a nobody…oh but she is a traitor. And quite the nuisance. Her and that little rebellion have been a pest for quite some time now.”
Her choice of words were interesting to Azriel. Somewhat downplayed. Everything Azriel had learnt about the rebellion was so much bigger than that— it was more than just mice in your home eating all your pantry— this rebellion was powerful.
What this female was a part of was so much more than just a nuisance. But maybe that’s why you didn’t bow or cower. Maybe that was why you didn’t seem to break under the blows, because you knew that.
Knew you stood for something more, despite it being minimised.
And that was something Azriel could respect—admire even.
The words seemed to urge the queen to stand, slowly and steadily she moved down the stairs. Each step she took had Azriel’s heart beating louder. Every move made closer to you had his shadows stirring more.
This was a performance. All of this, just theater. A play, that even he was partaking in.
The guard tried to shove your head down with the push.
“Bow,” the guard breathed, bringing his lips close to your ears. A sickening gravel scratched along your eardrum as he spat out the command. The notion almost had Azriel move from his place. Watching the guard grab you had him losing composure in a way that was so unlike him.
Your silence was absolute though. You didn’t budge, if anything your back only grew straighter, shoulders more squared as you stared the queens dead on.
“We’ve been after this one for years. Always, somehow managed to slip through our fingers,” there was almost a tone of respect in the queen’s voice as she stepped in front of the you.
The other queen spoke then, twisting her finger around her curly hair bored. “She’s supposed to be some kind of symbol of what was it? Pathetic resistance? A little spark of delusion? The rallying of-“
“—Hope.”
The room stilled.
You had spoken.
Azriel’s breath got caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected you to speak. Hadn’t expected you to sound like that either. Unwavering and strong, slightly pained too…and yet your voice sounded like a soft song to his ears.
A song he was familiar with, a song he had always known but for a brief moment had somehow forgotten the words.
The queens tried to gather their thoughts, their words.
They had this whole thing planned out. As though a script had been written beforehand and suddenly the antagonist, you, was improvising.
Voice calm, you continued. “I believe the word you were looking for is hope…a symbol of hope.”
You were met with silence again. One of the queens mouths dropped open in shock.
“But little spark of delusion definitely has a ring to it,” Azriel could hear your smile when you spoke, wished to see it as his own lips turned alight upwards. There was this dry sarcasm that laced your tone. Made you all the more braver, that even in this moment you were taunting them.
You were goading the mortal monarchy. Azriel was impressed, despite it being completely reckless, he couldn’t help but admire your daring boldness.
The dark hair queen scoffed again in disbelief, clearly agitated but trying to disguise it under nonchalance.
It was the youngest queen who reacted viscerally. That innocence long gone, but inexperience screaming as she couldn’t contain her emotions.
A slap rang out, sharp and echoing.
Azriel flinched. Azriel never flinched.
Rhys glanced at this friend for a moment, a question probing into Azriel’s mind. Was everything okay?
The queen curdled out a slur with such venom that it ricocheted across the room.
Azriel hadn’t heard that particular slur in a long time. That kind of derogatory language wasn’t favoured in Prythian, and the venom in her words had his shadows skittering.
You didn’t fall though. Didn’t flinch beyond a brief jerk of your head.
Azriel’s shadows stilled entirely though.
Because he could see you more now. And Azriel couldn’t breathe.
Something was clawing at his chest.
Azriel’s fingers twitched where they rested on the hilt of Truth-Teller.
Still, he said nothing. Still, he watched.
Until the young queen bent, wrapped a hand in your hair, and yanked your head back.
The motion revealed your face fully.
And the world stopped. Azriel’s world stopped.
Your eyes. So defiant, wild, bright, even through the pain.
And your smile. It was wide, mad, challenging— beautiful.
Azriel tried to swallow hard but his throat was dry. His shadows were whispering but he couldn’t hear.
The young queen was spiralling, power going to her head. Spewing slurs and insults. Your goading had triggered her, perhaps this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.
One of the queens rolled her eyes, now uninterested in this turn of events. The eldest looked as though she wanted to shake her head in disappointment, but began sending a signal to the guards.
You laughed then. Laughed at something the flustered queen had said, it only angered her more.
But your chuckle was soft, taunting, teasing— fearless.
And then you glanced over to your audience, to Rhys, Mor, the guards.
To Azriel. Met his eyes, your smile only wider.
Something deep in his chest snapped.
Not broke. Snapped. Like a bowstring pulled too tight, releasing all at once.
The world rushed in, too loud, too bright. Every sound, every scent, every breath from your lungs was his.
Mate.
Rhys’s voice was a distant hum, he was speaking now. Mor’s breath barely registered. All Azriel could hear was your ragged breathing, all he could feel was the bond unfurling — furious, desperate, alive— and angry.
And when the eldest queen lifted her hand, another signal. One he recognised— execution— your execution. Azriel moved.
Faster than thought. Faster than the shadows could follow.
The hall exploded into chaos.
But it one quick movement, Azriel wrapped his arms around you. Desperately so. And he removed you from danger.
***
Azriel’s mind was spinning.
A whirlwind of chaos and noise- all his own thoughts- and his shadows.
But the one thing anchoring him was you.
His mate.
Here, with him. And safe.
You were safe. He had made sure of that.
Transporting you both to a off-grid location. A place only he knew of.
His shadows began to disperse around you both, Azriel’s hands steadily releasing you from his hold.
Azriel could take a moment to look at you properly now. The lines of your face, curve of your lips that had him swallowing hard. The depths of your eyes had the bond burning so bright he could have groaned.
But there were the bruises and blood. Marks that you shouldn’t have to bare that pained him.
He could see the terror in your eyes, your brows furrowing—
“What the fuck did you just do?”
Azriel blinked. You were shocked. He could feel it, the confusion. Understandable. “It’s okay, you’re safe now” he assured.
“What—“
Azriel tried to ease out a soft smile. Coaxing his shadows to settle as they vibrated off the pulse of the bond that was currently coursing through his body.
He wanted to touch you again. He was desperate to. Desperate to soothe the aches that were evident across your form, desperate to calm whatever nerves you held, desperate to comfort you in a way only a mate could—
Gods. His brothers hadn’t explained how truly consuming a bond was. Sure, to a degree they had. But their words had not truly explained the depth of how the bond burned so viscerally. How it felt as though it could only be tempered and yet ignited by his mates touch.
This felt like a lot…this felt like everything he’d ever wanted. It was everything Azriel had ever wanted.
His hand twitched as they hovered by your sides, but he pulled them away.
“I saved you. We’ll be safe here, they can’t find you here—“
“I don’t understand,”
Azriel let out a breath, “I know it’s a lot to take in, but they were going to kill you, hurt you… and I couldn’t—“
“No.”
You cut him off. Quick and sharp. Your frown turned into something that resembled more of a glare. There were feelings running down the bond that he was so desperately trying to farse out. Too many feeling, and all consuming— and confusing.
He could feel your adrenaline, anticipation, anger— it mixed with his longing and desperation.
“They were not going to kill me.” Your tone was so sure and firm.
“They were,” Azriel struggled to deliver the words. He knew it. Knew if he hadn’t intervened then, that moment would have been the first and last time he saw his mate.
But you scoffed at his words.
Actually scoffed.
The action throwing Azriel off guard for a moment. Not that he had expectations from his mate. He had seen from his brothers experiences, that when a bond snapped there shouldn’t be any expectations.
But Azriel had hoped for some kind of gratitude for saving your life, mate or no mate.
He moved an inch closer to you then, subconsciously- as though the proximity would make you understand. But you stepped back, your tone steady. Not scared, only sure as you looked into Azriel’s eyes.
“You have ruined everything.”
And Azriel felt it. From your words and in the bond. He really had ruined everything.
a/n: well well well…looks whose back starting another fic when she has loads still incomplete 🫢 I’ve had this idea for ages, and I’ve honestly been writing it forever. Ask @illyrianbitch she’s knows how much I’ve struggled to get this out. Hoping posting this first part will get me out of my writing slump! But anyway my loves - enjoy xx
Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria @flameandshadows @writingcroissant
