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stylographic-blue-rhapsody · 6 months

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been thinking abt the in-world mechanics of healing magic, and exactly what it is that makes espen Good At Healing. besides the standard boost to hp, I figured her magical healing was more thorough/easier on the body/reduced scarring and itching in an immediately noticeable way to her patients

obviously a ficlet was in order bc the only thing better than textwalling in discord is pairing the meta with another lil glimpse into The Beforetimes

scene: bazzoxan, 60 years ago. the taskhand's personal apartments

...

Espen looked up from her paperwork as the door to the apartments opened with the clattering sound of heavy boots and clinking metal. She smiled to herself as a string of increasingly-nonsensical curses echoed up the stairs and into the bedroom, heralding Fyrna’s safe return: she was only ever quiet coming off duty when something had gone terribly wrong.

“Do you want assistance?” Espen called.

While the reply was unintelligible over the clamor of platemail being doffed and dropped onto the floor, by tone it was a declination. Espen turned her attention back to the stacks of parchment spread before her on the bed: the accounts and inventory wouldn’t finish balancing themselves.

Some time later, when the stocklist requests were almost compiled, Fyrna arrived and collapsed onto the reading chaise with a sigh. She was clad only in soft breeches, hair damp and tousled from the bath she had apparently taken while Espen was engrossed in the task of finding a miscalculated purchase record.

Looking up, Espen saw Fyrna start to drag her nails along a freshly-healed wound beneath her collarbone before restraining the urge with a grimace. Fyrna muttered to herself, “Light help me, this itches something hellish.”

“You could ask me.”

Fyrna lolled her head back on the chair and smiled apologetically. “I’m just whining to myself. No need to interrupt you while you’re busy.”

Espen gave her a dry look, shutting the journal and shuffling the papers into a stack to set aside. “Martyrdom isn’t becoming. Come here, firefly.”

Chuckling at the reprimand, Fyrna hauled herself from the chaise and clambered onto the bed. The acrid tang of healing poultice and mild florals of Fyrna’s soap hit Espen’s nose as her wife settled before her. Espen cataloged two major lacerations along Fyrna’s back in addition to the one on her collarbone: all three scabbed and showing the shine of young scar tissue. With a muttered incantation, Espen frosted her hand and ran the pads of her fingertips along the one on her chest, avoiding scratching it with her nails.

Fyrna groaned in relief at the cold. “Oh, that is fucking brilliant. You are so sexy, did you know that? Do you want to get married?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to ask my wife first.”

“Oh? The handsome Taskhand? Maybe I’ll ask to marry her, too. She seems like a catch.”

Espen snorted. “Turn around so I can get a better look at your back.”

Comfortable silence settled over the room as Espen made methodical passes over Fyrna’s skin to soothe the newly-healed wounds. Based on their orientation and jagged course, Espen guessed that the skirmish had been against something with nasty claws—babau, perhaps. There had been more of those emerging from the Rise, and it could be a pattern—

“Can you teach Elexi how to make his healing not itch, like yours?”

Fyrna’s question pulled Espen from her thoughts of demonic incursion. She said, “No, unfortunately. It’s not their fault, though. It’s very rare to have the ability to heal perfectly.” “And why’s that?”

“Do you want the quick answer or the correct answer?”

Fyrna sighed contentedly as Espen pressed her magically-chilled palms fully against her back. “I want the long winded, technical answer that will make you use your excited academic voice. It’s cute.”

“You are the only person in all of Xhorhas who thinks it’s endearing.”

“Everyone else has poor taste. Please instruct me well, Captain Danlys.”

Espen huffed and leaned forward to place a brief kiss on the nape of Fyrna’s neck. “As you wish, Taskhand Beltune.

“In arcane theory, it is understood that every spell, whether formally taught or accessed innately, falls into one of the eight schools of magic. Contrary to the layman’s understanding of the Weave, these schools are not different types of magic so much as they are the different forms magic can take, or the constraints by which a mage may safely channel its volatility.”

Fyrna hummed. “It’s using a saddle to ride a mount instead of riding bareback.”

“Yes, schools are like tack.” Espen pushed gently at Fyrna’s shoulder to encourage her to turn to face her again. “And ‘healing’ is not its own school because the desired outcome changes the channel required to accomplish it. Returning the deceased to life is necromancy because it is a manipulation of the spirit and not the body. Curing poison is abjuration because it is negation of something extant in the system.

“The healing of wounds is almost always accomplished via evocation, which is, essentially, indiscriminately pumping creation magic into damaged tissue to fill the gaps. However, this does not seamlessly blend the whole and healthy tissues in the body with the recreated flesh, instead creating a border that the body must finish integrating. Because this integration is biologically the same process as natural wound recovery, magical healing itches just as the end stages of natural healing does.”

“Makes sense to me.” Fyrna’s eyes drifted closed as Espen attended to the wound on her chest. “What about you, though? Why doesn’t your healing make me want to rub against a scrub tree like a moorbounder with a face full of bee stings?”

“There is technically another way to magically heal a wound: speeding along the body’s natural process of converting its resources into new tissues via transmutation. This is, however, exhausting and potentially dangerous to the patient depending on the severity of the wound and the energy availability of the body. Transmutative healing also requires a very sensitive caster to manipulate the magic correctly at that small of a scale.”

“So your healing combines evocation and transmutation, to restore the flesh and then integrate it with the body?”

Espen hummed in affirmation. “Most people can only manipulate the Weave using one school at a time, but very powerful arcanists have the skill to cast through multiple channels simultaneously and accomplish this. I do not have that sort of power, of course, but the Luxonmark attunes me to body-magic in a way that allows for dual-channeling while healing. To use another riding metaphor, if channeling two schools is trick riding on two mounts, the Mark is a yoke keeping the two together so I do not have to control them both independently.”

A smile began to pull at the corners of Fyrna’s mouth, her eyes sparking with mischief. “ ‘Attuned to body-magic’? That sounds…”

Espen raised an eyebrow. Amused, she asked, “Would you like me to wait for you to make the joke, or shall we assume it’s been made so we can carry on?”

Fyrna barked a laugh and leaned forward to kiss the tip of Espen’s nose. “I was only going to say that you didn’t need to tell me you’re ‘attuned to body-magic.’ “

“That wasn’t as crass as I had expected. You’re losing your edge, Beltune.” Espen flicked her cheek playfully.

“That shouldn’t be a surprise. How could one not soften in the presence of your loveliness?”

For all the flirting, for the suggestive banter, that is what finally elicited a blush from Espen. “What a cliche. Have you been borrowing Bas’s trashy romance novels again?”

Mercifully, Fyrna allowed her to deflect. “I still think you’d enjoy them if you’d give them a chance.”

“And give Tars and Jin that ammunition against me? I can’t risk it.” Espen said. “Do the lacerations still itch?”

Fyrna stretched gingerly, spine popping with the effort. “No, they feel much better, thank you. Do you have work to finish?”

“I think it can mostly be left for tomorrow.” Espen extricated herself from the bed and scooped up the stacked paperwork. “I have a set of infusions steeping that I need to filter and store first, but I’ll retire once I’m done. Wait for me?”

Fyrna snatched Espen’s free hand before she could get too far from the bed and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Releasing her, she made a shooing motion. “Until the mountains sink into the sea, my love, but I hope it won’t take you quite that long.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Espen replied with a soft laugh. “Maybe only until the Barbed Fields turn green.”

“Oh, that’s not so long. See you soon, starshine.”

#espen danlys #weird eyes and pronouns #my ocs #finally some longer form fyrna voice....#I just love a character who is a lil ornery in casual company but Intimidating And Serious while doing their job #prior to writing this I did not realize that fyrna was big on affectionate pet names while espen doesn’t really use them #also if u think i forgot to give her a shirt u are wrong. that was on purpose #I am doing my part to represent casual toplessness in sapphic households 🫡#anyway hey spotify play me and my husband by mitski on loop

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sareeen · 1 month

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Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thrones and roses #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you

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