This is me trying now-pt 2
Welcome back thehehehehe, anyways you though you werre heartbroken well guess what, I have moreeee
Warnings: more angst, talks about depression
The House of Wind had always been a place of refuge for Azriel. In the sprawling mountain fortress, he could find peace in the quiet corners, away from the weight of the world that bore down on him. But today, that peace was shattered. His own thoughts tormented him, a storm of regret and guilt swirling in his chest.
The letter—the one you had left him—remained tucked into his pocket, worn from his constant grasp. He had memorized every word by now, and still, it tore him apart each time he read it. Days had passed since you left, and every hour without you felt like a blade twisting deeper into his soul.
But Azriel wasn’t the only one suffering from his mistakes.
Rhysand and Cassian had been patient—far more patient than he deserved—but that patience had its limits. The brothers had given him space, allowed him to wallow in his guilt, but today that space evaporated.
The door to his room slammed open with a force that rattled the walls. Azriel didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Cassian stormed in first, his face twisted in anger, wings flaring behind him. Rhysand followed, his face set in a mask of icy calm, but his violet eyes blazed with fury.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian’s voice boomed, his fists clenched at his sides. “How could you let her go like that?”
Azriel didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His throat was tight, and the words stuck like stones in his chest.
Rhysand stepped forward, his voice quieter but no less dangerous. “Cassian asked you a question, Az.”
Azriel’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his shadows curling around his feet like they were trying to shield him from the confrontation. He deserved this. He deserved every ounce of their anger.
“You let her leave,” Cassian continued, his voice rising with every word. “You said—” His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. “You said those things to her, and now she’s gone, Azriel. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
Azriel’s wings twitched, his chest constricting with every breath. “I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from days of silence. “I know I messed up.”
“Messed up?” Cassian repeated, his tone incredulous. “You think this is just a mistake you can fix with a half-assed apology? She’s gone, Azriel. She’s suffering because of you.”
“Enough, Cassian,” Rhysand said, though his tone lacked its usual calm authority. He turned his gaze to Azriel, his eyes piercing. “Do you even know where she is?”
Azriel’s heart skipped a beat. No, he didn’t know. He had been too consumed by his own guilt to even try to find out. Shame washed over him, and he forced himself to meet Rhysand’s gaze.
Rhysand sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s in the Summer Court.”
Cassian snorted bitterly. “She needed to get away from you so badly that she left the entire court, Azriel. She’s with Tarquin now.”
The name made something cold settle in Azriel’s stomach. Tarquin. The High Lord of the Summer Court. He had always treated you kindly, admired your spirit and your compassion. And now, you were under his protection, far from the Night Court, far from Azriel.
“She hasn’t eaten,” Rhysand said quietly, the calm in his voice more chilling than Cassian’s rage. “She’s barely moved since she arrived. Tarquin’s healers are worried.”
Azriel’s blood ran cold. “What?”
Rhysand’s eyes darkened. “She’s falling apart, Az. Emotionally, physically. She’s on the verge of breaking, and if she does—” He shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “She could die.”
Cassian swore under his breath, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Do you understand now?” he barked, turning back to Azriel. “She’s dying, Azriel. She’s falling apart, and it’s your fault.”
Azriel’s wings drooped, the weight of Cassian’s words crashing over him like a wave. He had known—he had known that he hurt you. But this? This was more than he could bear.
Rhysand stepped closer, his voice low and cold. “If you don’t go to her, Azriel, she won’t survive. You don’t have a choice.”
Azriel nodded, though the motion was mechanical. His mind was racing, panic clawing at his chest. He needed to get to you. He needed to make things right, to fix what he had broken, but the thought of seeing you—of facing the pain he had caused—terrified him.
Rhysand’s voice softened, but the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “You need to speak with her. You need to make her understand that she’s not alone, that you’re sorry. Do you understand what’s at stake?”
Azriel nodded again, but his body felt frozen, his legs unresponsive. What if it was too late? What if you wouldn’t forgive him? What if his presence only made things worse?
“Go,” Cassian growled, stepping toward him, his wings flaring out. “Go now, before it’s too late.”
The room seemed to tilt around him, the pressure of their words pushing him to his breaking point. But deep down, he knew they were right. He had no choice. If he didn’t act now, if he didn’t go to you… there would be no coming back from this.
With a final, shaky breath, Azriel straightened. His wings unfurled behind him, and he shot a glance at Rhysand, who nodded grimly.
“I’ll open a portal,” Rhysand said. “You’ll be at Tarquin’s court within moments.”
Azriel could only nod. There was nothing else to say.
In the Summer Court, the warmth of the sun did little to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. The once beautiful palace, with its glittering turquoise walls and vast oceans, felt suffocating. Everything was too bright, too vibrant, too alive, while you felt hollow, a shell of who you had once been.
You sat on the edge of the bed in the lavish guest room Tarquin had given you, but it felt like a prison. The food they brought remained untouched. You hadn’t moved in days, your body numb from the lack of energy, the lack of will.
Tears slipped silently down your cheeks, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. The effort felt monumental, and you were already so tired—tired of feeling, tired of thinking. All you could do was replay Azriel’s words over and over in your mind, the cruelty of them cutting deeper every time.
I never asked you to fight for me.
Those words haunted you. You had fought for him, for your love, with everything you had. And it still hadn’t been enough. You had failed.
Tarquin had come to check on you earlier, his soft voice trying to coax you into eating, into talking. But you couldn’t find the strength to respond. You didn’t have the energy to pretend you were okay, not anymore.
You were broken. Irrevocably shattered by the man you had loved with every part of your soul.
And now, you weren’t sure if you would ever recover.
A knock at the door echoed through the room, but you didn’t stir. It didn’t matter who it was. Nothing mattered anymore.
The door creaked open, and you heard soft footsteps approaching. You didn’t look up.
“I was hoping you would talk to me,” Tarquin’s voice came, gentle but filled with concern. “You need to eat, to rest. You’re not doing yourself any favors by shutting down like this.”
You blinked, more tears falling, but you remained silent.
“I can’t force you,” Tarquin continued, his voice closer now. “But I’m worried about you. The healers are worried. You’re not well.”
I don’t care. You wanted to say it, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t care about anything anymore. Not the food, not the healers, not the worry in Tarquin’s voice. Nothing mattered when your heart was in pieces.
Tarquin sighed, the sound full of frustration and helplessness. “Please, just… eat something. If not for yourself, then for the people who care about you.”
He stayed for a few more minutes, but when you still didn’t respond, he left, closing the door softly behind him.
And then you were alone again. Alone with your thoughts, your pain, your memories of him.
The sobs came then, uncontrollable, wrenching sobs that tore from your throat as you curled into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All you could do was cry, your body shaking from the force of it.
Azriel had broken you. And there was no fixing it.
Azriel arrived at the Summer Court with a flash of darkness, the portal Rhysand had opened depositing him on the outskirts of Tarquin’s palace. His heart pounded in his chest, every step he took toward the glittering palace feeling like he was walking toward his own execution.
He had no idea what he would say to you. How could he explain what he had done? How could he possibly make up for the damage he had caused?
Tarquin’s guards eyed him warily as he approached, but they didn’t stop him.
Azriel’s heart thundered in his chest as he approached the guards, their wary gazes locked on him. He had been here before, countless times on business, but this visit felt different. This visit was personal.
One of the guards stepped forward, his posture rigid. “High Lord Tarquin has been expecting you, Shadowsinger.”
The words hit him like a blow. Tarquin knew. Of course, he knew. Azriel nodded, his jaw tight, and followed the guard through the glimmering halls of the Summer Court palace. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his guilt settling deeper into his bones. His shadows were unusually still, as if even they were holding their breath, unsure of what awaited him.
They stopped in front of an ornate door, and the guard turned to face him. “She’s inside,” he said quietly, his expression softening for a brief moment. “Be careful with her.”
Azriel swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He nodded again, though he wasn’t sure if he could promise that. He didn’t know if anything he could say would help. He could already feel the suffocating weight of his regret pressing against his chest, choking him as he reached for the door.
The guard left him, and for a moment, Azriel hesitated. Could he do this? Could he face you after everything he’d said, after everything he’d done? What if he made it worse?
But he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t try—if he didn’t at least make you see how much he regretted everything—he would never forgive himself.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
The room was bathed in golden light, the warm hues of the Summer Court spilling in through the windows, casting soft shadows along the walls. The space was luxurious, everything in it meant to bring comfort, but the sight that greeted Azriel was anything but peaceful.
You were curled on the bed, your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them. Your face was pale, and your hair hung limply around your shoulders, as if you hadn’t bothered to care for it in days. Even from across the room, he could see the tear tracks staining your cheeks, the way your body trembled as though you were barely holding yourself together.
You hadn’t noticed him yet. You were too lost in your own pain, in the endless cycle of hurt that he had caused. And for a moment, he considered leaving—just turning around and walking out before he caused you any more pain. But then you shifted slightly, a small sob escaping your lips, and something in him snapped.
He couldn’t leave. Not when you were like this.
Azriel stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat. “Y/N…” His voice was low, broken, as if speaking your name took more effort than he could manage.
Your head jerked up at the sound of his voice, eyes wide and filled with shock. For a moment, you just stared at him, as if you couldn’t believe he was really there. And then your face crumpled, and fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.
“Why are you here?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a broken breath. “Why did you come?”
Azriel’s heart shattered at the sight of you like this—so fragile, so hurt, because of him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you how sorry he was, but he wasn’t sure if you’d even let him.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with the weight of the words. “I’m so sorry.”
But you shook your head, a sob catching in your throat as you buried your face in your hands. “Sorry isn’t enough, Azriel. It will never be enough.”
Azriel took a step closer, his hands trembling. “I know,” he whispered. “I know it’s not enough. But I didn’t mean what I said—I didn’t mean any of it. I was angry, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve that.”
Your body shook with silent sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of the bed beneath you. “You said I was suffocating you,” you choked out, the words laced with so much pain that Azriel nearly collapsed under the weight of it. “You said you didn’t need me.”
He closed his eyes, the guilt burning through him like wildfire. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered again. “I was scared, Y/N. Scared of how much I needed you—of how much I love you. I thought… I thought if I pushed you away, it wouldn’t hurt so much if I lost you. But I was wrong. Gods, I was so wrong.”
Your sobs quieted for a moment, and you looked up at him, your eyes searching his face. “You hurt me,” you said, your voice trembling.
“I know,” Azriel said, his voice breaking. “I know I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please… please, Y/N, don’t shut me out. I love you. I need you. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this right if you’ll let me.”
For a long moment, you didn’t speak, didn’t move. And Azriel stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for the verdict. Waiting for you to tell him to leave, that it was too late, that he had broken something that could never be fixed.
But then, your voice came, soft and filled with sorrow. “I don’t know if I can.”
Azriel’s heart stopped, his chest constricting painfully. “Please…” he whispered, taking another step closer. “Please don’t give up on us.”
You looked away, your fingers trembling as you wiped the tears from your face. “I gave everything I had, Azriel. I fought for you, for us. And it wasn’t enough.”
“It was enough,” he said, his voice desperate now. “It is enough. You’re enough. I was the one who failed you, not the other way around. You gave me everything, and I didn’t see it. But I see it now. And I’m begging you—please, don’t leave me.”
You closed your eyes, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks, and for a moment, Azriel thought that maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance. That maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him, to let him try and make things right.
But then your voice came, quiet and broken. “I don’t know if I can ever be enough for you, Azriel. I don’t know if I can ever be enough for anyone.”
Azriel’s heart shattered at your words, his body going cold. He reached out, desperate to touch you, to hold you, but before his fingers could brush against your skin, the door behind him opened with a soft creak.
Azriel froze, his head snapping toward the doorway, his shadows stirring restlessly around him. And there, standing in the doorway, was Tarquin.
“I think that’s enough for now, Shadowsinger,” the High Lord of the Summer Court said, his voice firm but not unkind. “She needs rest. And you need time to think.”
Azriel’s chest tightened, his instincts screaming at him to stay, to fight for you, but he knew Tarquin was right. You were fragile—too fragile for this conversation, for this confrontation. He had already done enough damage.
With one last, lingering glance at you, Azriel nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears.
“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “I’ll come back when you’re ready. And I’ll make this right.”
But you didn’t respond, your eyes still closed as you lay curled on the bed, as broken as he had left you.
Azriel turned and left the room, the weight of his guilt and regret settling even deeper into his chest. He had come here to fix things, but now he wasn’t sure if anything could be fixed.
As the door closed behind him, he felt the suffocating grip of uncertainty take hold.
And he had no idea if he would ever get you back.
Merryyyyy christmasssssss
Lemmme know if a part 3 is needed
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