i hope someday we get a glimpse into what it was like for the bat boys growing up, but until then here’s a sweet little slice of life of them enjoying some of their more carefree moments, when they were allowed to just be children without the burden of their personal troubles weighing down on them.
we have rhysand finger painting the night sky, cassian dancing in his room with his favorite teddy bear, and azriel and his mother enjoying their hour together by picking flowers.
THANK YOUUUU to the wonderful @artzy_faith for giving us this adorable piece of all of the young bat boys! you blew it out of the water with this one 🫶
A/N - I really hurt my own feelings with this one. Cassian is so precious to me. If you have ever struggled with an eating disorder, especially bullemia or are sensitive to that sort of thing I would give this one a miss.
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Summary - A young teenage Cassian struggles with eating after years of malnourishment. Az catches him in a vulnerable moment.
These days, Cassian had enough food to last him weeks. These days, Cassian could eat whatever he wanted from the pantry, and he knew it would be replaced the next day. These days, he was safe.
So why was it so hard for him to believe it?
There were rice cakes and crackers and hunks of bread in his wardrobe, just in case. He had pilfered sweets from Rhys’ room and hid them in his night stand drawer. All around his room, little hiding places for food were carefully kept secret. It was his food. No one else’s. If they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t take it.
For a growing boy, Cassian ate surprisingly little at dinner times. Rhys’ mother was as patient as ever. It’s not like he was the only one who struggled to sit at the High Lords table. He was a bastard born Illyrian. He could never belong there anyway. He picked at his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork, held awkwardly in his hands, more like a weapon than a delicate piece of silverware. He hated eating off of it. He hated eating in front of everyone, especially Rhys who ate off of his fork with all the poise of the Prince he was.
Later that night he would sneak down to the kitchen, where the leftovers were waiting in the fridge. Too much for one person, but he would eat it all. He would use his hands, much more fitting for someone like him.
The sheer amount of food was overwhelming, his stomach churned and rolled, but he kept eating, as if at any moment it would be snatched from his hands. It hurt. He felt light-headed, and dizzy, and only had a few seconds to make it to the sink before he threw it up.
“Cassian, what the fuck are you doing?” That was Azriel’s voice behind him. He was never asleep early. Cassian should have waited longer.
“I got hungry.” He said, as if the number of empty bowls on the kitchen counter didn’t give him away. Azriel sighed.
Newly un-bandaged hands came up to rub Cassian’s scalp. Cassian remembered when he had finally taken them off. How he and Rhys had gone pale at the sight of them. But they were Azriel’s hands. His brothers hands. They could never hurt him.
“Cassian, that was all the food for tomorrow.” He said, peering into the bowls, pushing the plates back from the edge. Azriel rarely showed how much he cared, but Cassian knew he did. When he heaved into the sink again, Azriel was by his side in an instant, rubbing just between his wings. Cassian couldn’t help the tears that fell, nor the embarrassing whimper he made when Azriel gathered him in his arms.
Azriel gave a withering sigh, but let Cassian sob onto his pyjama shirt anyway. He kept one hand on his back, the other reached over to turn the sink on, washing away the evidence of Cassian’s late night binge.
“You want to show me where you’ve hidden the rest?” Az asked. Cassian shook his head. By now the crackers and bread would be stale. But he needed them there. Just in case.
Just in case.
“Come sleep in my room, Cass.” Azriel said, already leading him up the stairs, one hand on his shoulder. Cassian brushed his teeth. Then got into Azriel’s bed, like they had done a hundred times before.
He didn’t worry about whether Az might have a nightmare. Whether he might wake up with the burning need to finish off the food downstairs. Because Azriel’s soft breathing was against his forehead, his scarred hands were gently rubbing his back. He was warm. He was comfortable.
reposting this fic for @azrielweek2022 Day Four — Bat Boys
Eleven year old Azriel is taken from his Stepfather's keep to the Windhaven camp where he is taken in by the Lady of the Night Court and introducted to two rowdy Illyrian boys.
3.3k words [rated: M] Read on AO3
——excerpt——
“Mother!” A voice cried, I turn to see the source of the sound.
Two Illyrian boys were bounding towards the steps of this house, both wearing clothes made of leather. The taller one flapped his wings and shot into the sky, darting towards us like a bird. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know him, he looked younger than me, why was he about to attack me? Was this whole thing something that my step-brothers planned?
The boy back-flaps as his boots touched the first stone step, the gust of air ruffling my hair.
“I won!” The taller boy grinned at his companion.
“Cassian!” Lady Aella’s tone was scolding which only made me back up further into the shadows of the house. “I thought we agreed that there would be no more racing, dear. Since you broke your nose last time, when you forgot to back flap?”
“But I remembered this time,” the boy—Cassian—said as the shorter one came onto the steps, jostling him with an elbow as he passed.
The rough stone presses into my back and the shadows are trying to calm me, but my heart is beating very quickly as the shorter boy catches sight of me.
“Azriel, I would like you to meet Rhysand and Cassian.” She smiles and points to each boy as she says their name. “Boys, this is Azriel. His home will be with us from now on.”
Rhysand has funny colored eyes, like the little flowers that appear after the last snow melts.
Purple — purple is the color, violet if you are being specific.
His violet eyes track the shadows swirling around my wings. Rhysand cocks his head curiously.
I wait for the name-calling to begin but the boy simply asks, “are they darkness?”
Huh?
He refers to us.
“They are shadows,” I tell him, really wishing I hadn’t backed up into a wall and narrowed my options of escape.
Eleven year-old Azriel is taken from his Stepfather's keep to the Windhaven camp where the Lady of the Night Court takes him in, introducing him to two rowdy nine-year-old Illyrians.
Sample below or read on AO3 here [3.3k words]
please be mindful of the tags on ao3, this fic is dark.
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Walking down the hall, I do my best to hold my wings off of the ground so Petyr can’t step on them. Mom says that no one should touch anyone else’s wings without being asked. I think Petyr’s mom forgot to tell him that.
I manage to keep my wings up the whole walk from my room out to the main courtyard. The shadows have been making me practice before I sleep. I thank them and they dance across the tops of my wings.
Petyr stops us a few yards away from where the lord stands with his wife and my mom. I fall onto one knee immediately, bowing my head. I learned that lesson a long time ago.
I hear the lord sigh. “Rise,” he tells me.
I keep my eyes on the shiny tips of his boots as I get up. I don’t dare brush the gravel off of my trousers—it would be disrespectful and I don’t want to be reminded of what happens to disrespectful whelps right now.
Mom is whispering something but I can’t hear it.
She repeats, “please don’t do this — not my ilios.” The shadows inform me.
Ilios is one of our ‘secret words’ as she calls them. It means son, and sun—like the light in the sky—in the old language of the Illyrians. Mom makes me begin each of our meetings by telling her ‘my name is Azriel,’ but she usually just calls me her ilios. I think it’s funny, how can a boy with shadows be her light?
