#azriel’s daughter
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Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8
Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter
If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.
Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon
Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)
An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.
When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.
He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.
For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.
Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.
And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.
Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.
“It’s a surprise.” He stated.
Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?
Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”
He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.
Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”
“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”
“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.
He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”
And I hated that it was true.
“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”
“Just a gift for a friend.”
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Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.
The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.
Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.
Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”
Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.
When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.
I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.
“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”
“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”
Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“
He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”
My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.
“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”
“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.
And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”
“I was fine.”
I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.
“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”
I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”
“And again, little one, you love it.”
I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.
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Eris
She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.
She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.
Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”
And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.
Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.
As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.
“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.
“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”
And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.
If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.
The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.
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Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”
Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….
An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.
He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.
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Y/N
The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.
“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.
Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.
“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”
“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”
The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.
“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”
A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.
“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”
“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.
“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”
“You’re a busybody.”
She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.
“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”
My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.
“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”
Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”
My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”
Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?
He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”
“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”
He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”
A beat of silence.
“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”
And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.
A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.
“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.
I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.
My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”
Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”
My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”
Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”
It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.
Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”
“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”
He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”
I blushed, dismissing him.
Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”
I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.
“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”
She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”
I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”
“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”
“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”
She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”
“It does something for Nyx too.”
I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”
“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”
Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.
A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.
Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.
Had he left? Did I scare him away?
No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?
I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.
Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”
I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.
My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.
“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.
Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.
Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.
“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”
Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.
“Blade.”
“Bad.”
“Blade.”
“Bad.”
A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.
Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.
She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.
Holy shit.
Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”
The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.
I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.
He knew. Holy shit, he had known.
I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.
A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.
Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”
He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.
“You talk too much.” I spat.
Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”
I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.
I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”
Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”
“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”
Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.
Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.
Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.
Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”
Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.
Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.
Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.
As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”
“Not now, Azzie.” She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”
“Just a minute, Azzie”
I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.
Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.
They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.
Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.
I thought he wanted me for me.
“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.
Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.
Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”
“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.
Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.
My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.
Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.
I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.
Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.
“How long, Eris?”
Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.
“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”
My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.
A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”
“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.
I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.
“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”
She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”
Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.
His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.
“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.
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A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!
Tags:
ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria
Eris list: @angiedsv
Series list: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe
#acotar#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#a court of silver flames#a court of frost and starlight#a court of mist and fury#azriel shadowsinger#a court of wings and ruin#elain archeron#nesta archeron#cassian#nessian#elriel#tamlin’s daughter#azriel’s daughter#elriel’s daughter#acotar x Olivia Rodrigo#bad idea right#acotar smut#acotar angst#acotar fluff#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra#daddy eris#Eris#rhysand#feyre#feysand#nyx archeron
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Seventeen
Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: None. Some angst. Some fluff. AHHHHHHHHHH just look at the gif guys
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
“I will.”
The wet cloth soothed his burning skin as you carefully cleaned away the smattering of blood dashed over his high, bruised cheekbones like freckles. You were both holding your breaths, only daring to move when your lungs demanded it. Azriel sat on the chair you’d dragged into your bathroom, face level with yours as you leaned down to inspect his face with two fingers tucked beneath his chin.
Azriel’s fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch you somewhere. Anywhere.
“You said you’d tell me if I hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me, Y/n.”
Azriel could have told you that he was well versed with cleaning blood off his body and clothes. He could have reminded you back in the dining room that Feyre and Rhysand stood only ten feet away and could have whisked away his injuries and the bloodstains with a single touch or snap of their fingers. But instead he’d said nothing. He’d let you close your hand around his, fingers dangerously close to his thrumming pulse, and followed you to your bedroom while ignoring the throbbing pain of his cracked ribs.
Feyre called your bedroom The Wisp after having decorated it with all manner of airy, cream-colored furniture accented with soft browns. Your desk was overrun with neat piles of papers, books, and journals. The windowsill by your bed was dedicated to pre-sleep novels and clusters of lavender tied with twine and left to stand upright in vases fashioned from ink bottles. The scent of old books and parchment paper clung to every surface along with something that smelled clean and entirely like you.
Your bathroom was similarly orderly. Bottles of perfumes, lotions, and oils were laid out on the countertop like little soldiers, catching and scattering the moonlight from the window in a rainbow of color.
You brushed the cloth over his lips, eyes lingering on the two splits already scabbing over, then down the curve of his jaw to his chin.
It was reverently quiet here in your bathroom. Nothing but the faint and steady drip from the faucet into the quartz basin and your breathing filling the space.
Color had been spilled over Azriel’s face like a watercolor painting, equal parts painful and beautiful to look at. Because he was still so, so beautiful looking up at you with those whisky eyes that made your head spin. Those dark curls that hung over his forehead like seafoam waves. Your hands fluttered over the bottles on the countertop before settling on a pale green one that smelled strongly of mint. You smoothed the oil over Azriel’s face, leaving a cool, tingling sensation wherever you touched.
“I’m sorry about Lucien,” You whispered. “And Helion. I never wanted you to get hurt like this.”
“Don’t apologize.” He smiled sadly. “Cassian was right when he said I had it coming.”
You winced. “How bad was it when you fought Lucien the last time? When you invoked the Blood Duel?”
Azriel didn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never left yours as you quietly restoppered the bottle. “I was a second away from stabbing him through the heart when Elain stopped us. There are a fair number of scars we both left that fight with, but we did walk away,” He stiffened at the memory, “Barely.”
“Do you… do you regret it?”
“Yes,” Azriel said quickly. Firmly. “I will regret what I did and what Elain and I did together until the day I die.” His hands flexed by his sides and he dared to lift them up to your hips, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. When you didn’t shy away from his touch, he continued on. “I wanted what my brothers had and in my desperation I think Elain and I chose each other because we just wanted to do something. I wanted a mate and proof that I belonged alongside Rhys and Cassian, and Elain wanted to break the rules for the first time in her life. To feel in control. But we never should have done it knowing everyone would get hurt.”
“Sometimes love is like that,” you murmured, “Messy and hurtful… or so I’ve read.”
“I didn’t love Elain. I don’t love Elain. At least not romantically.” Not the way that I love you.
You tried to ignore the flutter of relief in your chest. It didn’t feel like the right time for it. Not with Azriel bruised and hurting before you. You dropped your eyes to the pale green tiles and caught sight of Azriel’s gloved hands.
“You’re wearing them again.”
Wordlessly you picked up one and gently began tugging the leather off his fingers. One by one. The whole time you kept your eyes on him, tracing the tension in his shoulders and between his eyes as his ruined skin was exposed inch by inch. The air felt foreign on the skin of his palms. The feel of your body so close to his felt exhilarating.
“I’m so sorry,” Azriel whispered, “I never meant to hurt you in all the ways that I did. What I did—”
“I know, Azriel.”
His eyes traced every line of your face, hands shaking. “You’re not a fourth choice. You’re not broken... But I think I might be,” he confessed. The words hung in the air between you two. Words you could wrap around his neck and hang him with.
He felt every stroke of your fingers over his knuckles. Every flutter of your eyelashes as you looked at him with the faintest tilt of your head.
“So what?” You breathed out.
Azriel shook. “Y/n?”
“So what if you’re broken? Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” You leaned your forehead against his, noses brushing, “But you’re still Azriel.” You smiled gently at him, eyes fluttering closed as you sighed. “And I think that’s a wonderful thing.”
Azriel stopped breathing as you brought his hands up to your lips and brushed them over every scarred knuckle. Every touch of yours was sacred. In their sincerity. In their rarity. In their preciousness to him.
“Do you… do you like me, Azriel?” Your words were nervous and soft. Softer than the finest bed Azriel had ever laid his head down on. Softer than the clouds that turned to rain when he flew through them. Softer than your ink-stained fingertips landing on the sprinting pulse of his neck.
“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “You can’t even begin to know, Y/n.”
And then your softness was all around him. It was your lips against his lips, pillowy and tasting faintly of the sweet wine you’d drank at dinner. It was your hands and arms looping around his neck and keeping his head squarely on his shoulders so he could experience this vibrance. It was the feel of your body as he held onto your hips and then flattened his hands against the small of your back, pressing you as close as he dared. River-soaked robes long since forgotten.
You were like water threatening to slip through his fingertips.
You hoped you were doing this right. Reading about kissing was very different from the actual thing. Your lips felt too stiff or too fervent. You worried your hands were too greedy as you plunged them into his raven-wing hair and tangled silken strands. But while you lacked experience, Azriel surely seemed to be making up the difference. He held you as close as possible, until it felt more like breathing than kissing.
Salty tears landed in between your lips until you could both taste their sharp tang on your tongues.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept saying over and over in between shaky gulps of air. “Y/n, please believe me. I—”
You kissed him harder just to make him stop, swallowing his pain as best you could until his breathing evened out.
“I’ve got you, Az.” You brushed his black waves away from his forehead before kissing him there too. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.
Azriel’s shadows chanted in his ears. But he made them go silent.
Another day.
Let him just hold you like this for now. For as long as you would let him. Here in the stillness with you — the only person who’d ever brought him a real sense of peace and quiet — he felt it was safe to hope again.
The long stream of kisses ended too early for his liking, although he didn’t dislike the sight of your heaving chest and blushing cheeks. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing as you stood between the walls of his legs, his arms wrapped loosely at your sides and yours dangling off his shoulders.
You’d kissed him. You’d kissed him.
You touched your fingertips to your lips, worry in your eyes. “Was it bad? Did I do a bad job? I’ve never—”
Azriel would have none of that. He tightened his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you all over again. You relished in his heat and the faint tickles of shadows that encased you both in darkness, like a veil had been thrown over the room leaving everything gauzy and soft.
“You, my Y/n,” his lips brushed over the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your neck when he sighed so, so softly, “Are a marvelous kisser.”
Had you melted into a sack of bones on the floor? It certainly felt like you had. You were blushing uncontrollably, searching for something, anything, to comment on. You thought your heart might just burst out of your chest.
“You have frosting in your hair.” You plucked the white blobs off his head, feeling the sugar grains crumble between your fingers.
“I think that was meant to be dessert.”
“I think you might be right.” You tried controlling your breathing when Azriel leaned forward and kissed the bare skin of your shoulder, and failed miserably. “It’s a real shame,” you stammered, “I was looking forward to cake.”
He kissed the center of your chest next and your heart skipped a beat. “I’ll buy you all the cake in the world to make it up to you.”
“That’s a hefty promise, and a waste of cake.”
“Do you doubt me?” Azriel asked honestly. You could ask him for moonlight in a bottle, or a dress spun from spider silk, or all the stars in the sky and he’d find a way to make it happen. Some way. Somehow. He’d give you everything that was his to give, and then some.
“No. I don’t doubt you.”
“Good.”
He couldn’t help himself. He kissed you again, reveling in the faint sighs that he swallowed up and the few that escaped between your locked lips to sing in his ears. You traded kisses for hours on end, slipping them in between conversations and gentle touches. It was an exploration in intimacy that you worried might sweep you away, but Azriel was as he always was — patient and gentle — from the tips of his black hair to his scarred hands to his leather boots. And you loved every inch of him.
You clung to his shirt, the scent of soap still clinging to his skin after he’d returned from his bath and laid down in bed beside you in cotton instead of leather.
“Azriel,” You said, your voice thin and tired. The candles burned low casting shadows that flickered and twisted on the wall. But you didn’t pay any mind to shadows any longer, not when you knew they belonged to Azriel as surely as you did. “Stay.”
And who was he to deny you? He held you close, your cheek pressed against his chest. You fell asleep to the sound of his heart, and he fell asleep to the rhythm of your breathing.
You woke up to the weight of Azriel draped over your body, face pressed against your breasts, arms wrapped around your waist, and the rest of him nestled in between your legs. He grounded you, wings splayed out and bathing in the sunlight that streamed through the windows.
You were pleasantly surprised that he was still asleep and you took the time to lightly trace his features, weaving your fingers through his hair until he made a sound that had your heart speeding up. Something halfway between a sigh and a groan.
He was slow and sluggish to wake, eyes blinking languidly as he registered the warm, supple body beneath him.
You.
He’d fallen asleep here with you, wrapped up in your scent until the world had faded away into blissful nothingness. He could have been asleep for eight hours or eight years and he would be none the wiser. All he knew is that you were running your fingers through his hair, and he didn’t want you to stop.
“Hey, you,” You murmured when his whisky eyes fluttered open, eyelashes casting spidery darkness over his cheekbones where his own shadows curled as if still asleep.
Azriel hummed, burying his face in your chest and sighing with his whole body. His arms rubbed up and down your sides leaving molten heat in their wake. “Please don’t tell me it's morning.”
“I’m not above lying, Azriel. It’s the middle of the night.”
His wings shook with quiet laughter, the movement of his body tickling your skin until you were grinning unabashedly.
“Then why are you awake?” Again, his words were muffled by your skin.
“Because I’m currently being crushed beneath the weight of an Illyrian warrior.”
His head shot up in alarm. He was no small male and although he’d spent centuries gaining enough strength for his wings to feel weightless on his back, he knew they were anything but. And you’d let him stay like that all night. It was a miracle you hadn’t suffocated.
Stupid. Stupid.
“I’m sorry. Gods, I didn’t mean—” He began to slide off of you. But you were laughing.
“Wait! No! I was joking. I was joking. Come back!” You wrapped your legs around his back, the sudden movement pulling him flush against you in a rush of heat that made him go stone still.
Mother, help me. He thought to himself, feeling blood travel both up and down his body.
You guided his head to your chest by the strands of his hair until he was following the curves of your silhouette once again. “I like it when you hold me like this, Azriel,” you confessed. “I don’t feel like I’m going to float away anymore. Does that make any sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” he whispered. He felt the same way. “You make the world go quiet, Y/n.”
It wasn’t until the clock struck twelve bells and the House’s cooking wafted through the hallways that you and Azriel finally peeled yourselves off one another, shuffling to the bathroom in a cluster of wings and loose night clothes.
Azriel watched you closely, finding new ways to love you even as you brushed your teeth side by side, bumping hips and smiling at one another shyly. He watched as you brushed your hair and washed your face, stealing kisses that left minty cool tingles on his skin.
Lucien was noticeably frowning when you and Azriel walked into the dining room, Azriel’s scent still clinging to your skin and yours to his. You’d done nothing more than sleep in the same bed, everyone was looking at you with shit-eating grins like you’d taken Azriel on the living room couch for the whole House to hear.
“You look well rested, brother,” Cassian noted over the lip of his coffee cup.
It was the best night of sleep Azriel had gotten in centuries, perhaps in his entire life.
You wordlessly traded seats with Elain at the table, leaving you and Azriel on one side and Lucien and Elain directly across. When no one was looking, he reached down and pulled your chair closer, pressing his knee against yours beneath the table. Lucien noticed — of course he did — but the blush on your cheeks was so innocent and the love in your gaze so honest that he couldn’t bring himself to make any comment. Although, he did throw a few dangerous looks Azriel’s way, looks that plainly said, If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.
Azriel only nodded faintly in reply, as if he knew what Lucien had been thinking all along and was in agreement.
But in the following weeks your brother would come to be grateful that your care for one another was not loud. It wasn’t desperate, groping hands in hallways or sultry looks that heated up crowded rooms and made people uncomfortable. It was reserved smiles and knowing glances when you independently formed the same thought at the same time, eyes latching onto one another until one of you inevitable broke away laughing.
For the first time in his life, Azriel had someone who wanted him back just as fervently, even if it was difficult to believe.
Azriel always needed to be touching you, whether it be a hand at the small of your back or the press of your shoulders together as you leaned over one of the desks at Cagniv — now that Azriel was allowed inside — with papers strewn about like dove feathers.
You were no better. You stuck close to his side where shadows lingered and sought him out in every room until you may as well have owned the space within the curve of his wings.
But things were changing. Koschei loomed taller and taller over the House like an avalanche ready to wipe Velaris off the map. Once again, everyone heard Vassa’s cries at daybreak and nightfall, and when Jurian slipped out of the attic for his own rest, he looked a little thinner and paler each time and no amount of medicine or food you and Lucien brought upstairs seemed to be helping.
Azriel tried to steal every extra second with you in the mornings. If he had his way, he’d never leave his bedroom again, content to admire the splash of sunlight over your body and your sleepy sighs. But he was still the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court and you quickly got accustomed to waking up to an empty bed with only a note on the nightstand. On those days you migrated out of whatever room you’d spent the night in — yours or Azriel’s, although the lines were blurred — often trekking to Cagniv to escape a house where strange, new faces were coming and going with more frequency: ash-pale fae from Winter, a white-haired female from Summer with skin so dark it was almost black, and golden males from Dawn with downy hawk wings. They locked themselves in Rhysand and Feyre’s office where bargains and plans were made in blood and salt.
Other days you carted your books to Feyre’s studio with Nesta and Ione in tow, perching on a stool while the High Lady crafted life out of brushstrokes like she was the Mother herself.
Feyre stood at her easel, as she had been every day this last week, with her pencil clenched between her teeth as she ignored the faint aches in her lower back and her wrist. Every line, every detail, was attended to with painstaking precision as she mapped Nesta and the old woman’s faces onto the blank canvas first with graphite, then with a thin wash, then with layers of paint that added dimension and familiarity to the two stoic faces. Feyre didn’t let her passion overtake the more clinical approach she was taking with this piece. This was not the time for free flowing movement and modernism.
This was all about realism.
Exactness.
When the High Lady placed her brush on the muddied water cup beside her, you jumped up. “Is it finished, Feyre?”
“As finished as it will ever be,” Feyre responded gravely as you took in the sight before you. Three women: Nesta, Ione, and some mixture of the two. Feyre had captured their likeness with incredible precision, using the painting to familiarize herself with their faces and the ways they could be warped and molded.
You peered over the corner of the canvas to where the two women were standing side by side. Ione lengthened her spine, cane clasped in her hands that you’d never seen her lean on with her full weight. Time had condensed her bones and stolen some of the height from her frame, but none of her sharpness. It was a trait that granted her a strange degree of likeness to Nesta, as if you’d glanced into a future where she’d never turned fae.
You looked at Feyre, then down to the vials of blood you’d collected from the pair. Already your magic was seeping into the burgundy bottles, testing its boundaries with such an unfamiliar medium as you released any hold you had on it. You looked at the High Lady and nodded.
It just might work.
“My brilliant daughter,” Helion praised, kissing you on the top of your head before disappearing in a flash of light. His empty teacup spun on the saucer.
You felt a familiar flicker of pride grow within you. Helion had spent hours pouring over your notes, your manuscript, and leaning his ear towards your plans. He was in agreement.
It just might work.
Lucien slunk out of his room after Helion’s voice disappeared and sank into the abandoned couch with his whetstone and white-bone blade. The ring of metal echoed through the room, melting into the birdsongs that slipped in through the cracked open window and the clatter of sugar spoons against a porcelain plate.
“You should tell him,” you said again, pushing a teacup over to your brother. It was a common refrain after Helion’s visits.
Lucien stared at the three cups now strewn across the coffee table. Two empty. One full and untouched. Had Helion noticed the extra one?
“I’ve had enough of High Lords for a while,” Lucien said as you poured yourself another strong cup, “When this is over, I’m taking Elain, Jurian, and Vassa back to the Human Lands.” His eyes flickered over to you briefly, “You should come live with us. You’d find it interesting how they conduct themselves. You might even learn something.”
“I’ll visit for a short time, but nothing longer than that.”
“Why not?”
You lowered your gaze and blushed, unconsciously tugging your sweater higher up your neck. The sweet marks Azriel’s lips had left on your skin were long gone, but you swore you could still feel them. “You know why.” You murmured softly.
Your swollen eyes spoke of restless nights without the Shadowsinger’s hands to lull you to sleep. Azriel had gotten into the habit of stroking your cheek while you talked in bed, until the steady brush of skin against skin finally had your eyes closing shut. You missed him.
“Lucien, I understand that you want nothing to do with Helion or any other High Lord, but… You could be better. I know you could be. You could be the best High Lord of them all, if you’d only be open to it.”
Because that was Lucien’s worst fear, wasn’t it? That a time would come when Helion would leave this world and any hope for a quiet, peaceful existence with Elain would be gone.
“And what if you’re wrong?”
You touched his wrist and the blade stopped its strange singing. “‘It’s often those who think they deserve it least, that deserve it most.’ Pippin Clodshot from—”
“A Duel of Two Faces by Aechtion.”
You reared back in surprise and Lucien grinned, tapping your nose. “I do read, sister.”
The sarcasm in his voice was laid on so thickly you could only grumble in response. “I wasn’t aware you had two brain cells to rub together, brother.”
Lucien laughed so heartily and for so long that Elain and Ione stuck their heads out from the kitchen in conern.
“I thought someone was dying.” Ione rolled her eyes before her grey head disappeared once again.
You slid further under the covers, burying your face in Azriel’s pillows as the sun finally slipped behind the mountains and shadows raced each other to the Sidra.
Seven days.
Seven days of waking up to empty sheets after Azriel had jerked awake halfway through the night, bloodshot eyes searching for something you couldn’t see and that he didn’t tell you about. He’d only kissed your forehead, smoothing back your hair and murmuring something about a task he needed to take care of before shrugging on his leathers. You’d sat in bed, comforter tucked under your arms and over your chest even though you were fully clothed, and watched Azriel move around the room with a practiced air as weapons flashed in the moonlight and disappeared into his bag.
You knew all the hiding places in his room now — one of the many secrets you’d unearthed — so you didn’t find it at all strange when he captured your lips before dipping his hand beneath the mattress and pulling out a long serrated blade, perfect for sawing rope and wood.
“Where are you off to this time?”
Azriel had gone still, taking his time to shake away his thoughts before sweeping a handful of stoppered vials off his desk — sleep potions, draughts for pain and healing, subtle, painless poisons. You would know because you had helped make them.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/n,” He’d whispered, eyes boring into yours with a haunted look that hadn’t left him since that day in the market square.
Ten days.
Ten days of carrying around a heavy ache that every so often tightened with a feeling you couldn’t name. Almost as if it didn’t belong to you.
You paced back and forth in Azriel’s room, trying to calm a heart that hadn’t stopped racing for the last hour. You’d tried opening, then closing the windows as you curled up beneath the covers of his bed, mountain air blowing the curtains open and chilling your too hot skin. But none of it helped.
Chasing his scent in the sheets wasn’t enough anymore.
You tiptoed out of Azriel’s room, copying his silent steps and sticking to familiar shadows as you slipped through the House. Like Lucien, you tended to stay hidden whenever representatives from other Courts visited the River House. They were people Rhysand and Feyre trusted, but that didn’t mean you could erase centuries of wariness from your bones.
You heard nothing coming from Feyre’s studio, but you knew that if you were to sneak through the layers of air she’d sealed around the space, you’d meet a male carved from molten heat.
You waited in one of the spare studio rooms for the High Lord of Autumn to leave, eyes peering through the slit between the door and its hinges. If you stared for long enough, you swore you could see the air beside the door rippling with Autumn heat.
Finally, Eris Vanserra stepped into the hallway in all his striking glory, followed closely behind by Lucien. Violently red hair hovered over a pale, freckled face composed of angular lines — striking but not unkind. You thought he looked like a lit match with his wiry frame wrapped in resplendent browns, reds, and golds that spoke of forest riches. Or maybe he just looked narrow when standing next to Cassian. That was always a possibility.
“Thank you, Eris.” Feyre squeezed his hand reassuringly. She wore similarly decadent clothes. The moonstone and diamond crown perched atop her light brown hair was a rare sight, but Feyre wore it as naturally as she wore her paint splattered overalls. She was an artist and a High Lady in equal measure, and she sacrificed no part of one in favor of the other.
The newly minted High Lord of Autumn chuckled darkly, eyes flashing like a living flame. You’d heard horrible tales about Beron Vanserra, his cruelty, and his violence. But whatever traits Eris had inherited from his father he’d sloughed off like a second skin. The molting process had been full of its own pains, but as you assessed him now, you saw only the characteristics he shared with Lucien.
“Don’t thank me yet. Not until my feet have touched the Continent.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Eris tipped his head, a smirk on his face, then disappeared in a flush of woodsmoke.
Spring, Winter, Summer, Day, Dawn, and now Autumn. The seven courts had slid into an uneasy alliance once more, weary but willing after decades of war. Feyre wasn’t sure how much more Prythian could take if this transformed into another bloodbath. But if the fledgling plan you’d all helped nurse came to fruition, it wouldn’t come to that… at least that’s what Feyre kept telling herself every night so she could sleep.
The High Lady jolted back when you slipped out from your hiding spot, cast in a halo of cool-toned light from the dying sun. Cassian shared in Feyre’s surprise. They hadn’t heard you come up the stairs or pass by the door. They hadn’t even sensed you until you made your presence known.
Maybe she’s picking it up from Azriel? Feyre said with some amusement.
Gods help us all. There’s two of them.
“Where’s Azriel?” You looked to the High Lady for an answer, hands held stiff at your sides. You felt that strange anxiety clawing at your throat. It had dripped into your feelings slowly since the morning, growing like a weed until you couldn’t stop clenching your fists. “I haven’t heard from him in days.”
Feyre felt a familiar coil of guilt settle in her stomach.
Don’t tell her about this, Fey. Azriel had begged her, his eyes hard and tired before taking off from the back porch towards The Warren.
He’d made all of them promise not to tell you about that place. About what he did. About what he was doing. But you weren’t a fool. You knew of his reputation as a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster and the work that came with it. You’d traced some of the scars on his body, plucking the stories from his skin whenever he let you, and you woke up when he did from his silent nightmares. The slightest change in his breathing pattern, the barest flinch of his arm wrapped around your waist was all it took for you to open your bleary eyes and shake him awake.
But there were some secrets he was still too afraid to reveal, and some secrets he’d buried so deeply he didn’t even know what their monstrous faces looked like anymore.
“Y/n—” Feyre began.
“I want to know.” You reached for Feyre’s wrist, grasping it so tightly your knuckles paled and Cassian stepped forward. It was a silent reminder that you had the power to take that knowledge from her if you wished. You loved Feyre. You considered her a friend. But the panic wasn’t leaving you. You stared at her desperately, pupils blown wide open. “I need to know he’s alright.”
Feyre opened her mouth to speak, then froze as Rhysand’s velvety voice entered her mind, strained to the point of breaking.
Feyre, you need to bring Y/n to The Warren.
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's Note:
85K+ WORDS AND FINALLY THEY'VE FUCKING KISSED HOLY SHIT
I really must applaud you all for your patience because hot DAMN I am FLOORED!!! And yes, yes, I know, I know y'all want Y/n to figure out their mates and I will simply be pleading the fifth and hiding in my room and not telling anyone of you when that will actually happen because I simply cannot! ASFDK;JABSLDFIGUH
*takes a deep breath* Thank you all so much for reading and for your engagement whether that be leaving comments or liking or literally anything because it makes my day and I'm just happy that my passion project/hobby is able to bring people some smidgen of joy because the world really sucks but hey at least we have fanfics
#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x reader slowburn#azriel x you#azriel x helion's daughter
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Not Again - Masterlist
Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader
Summary-
Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.
Warnings-
WIP, canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, angst, eventual spice/smut
Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part six
Part seven
Part eight
Part nine
Part ten
Part eleven
Part twelve
Tag List-
@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @ghostwritermia , @amberlynn98 , @catecita , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella
#figure it was a good idea to put everything in one place#no idea how many parts this is going to end up being#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel#azriel x reader#rowaelin daughter#rowaelin#not again
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Small World Pt 2
Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.
Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy
A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends
Peep Part 1 Here 💙
Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.
His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.
He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.
7 siphons would not be enough.
And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.
He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"
Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."
A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"
Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."
"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."
"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."
Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."
Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.
You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.
You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.
Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.
Like they had with Nesta.
Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.
You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.
Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.
Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."
"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"
The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."
Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"
Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.
Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"
"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."
The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.
He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.
Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.
They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.
Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.
You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.
A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"
"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."
Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.
You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.
You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."
After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.
"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."
Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.
You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.
"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.
Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.
Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.
It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.
Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.
Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?
That you were afraid of storms?
That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?
You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.
If Rhysand would just believe in you.
Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.
Fuck expectations.
Fuck the rules.
Fuck your family.
Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.
He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.
General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish
Azriel-
@elle4404
Small World Taglist-
@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce
#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel x feysands daughter!reader#az x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster
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POV: Gwyn singing to her daughter Catrin
Azriel is looking at them from afar with a smile on his face as he finally knows the meaning of Happiness.
And that's what you missed on Glee.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#pro gwynriel#gwyn berdara#gwyneth berdara#gwynriel#azriel#pro gwyneth berdara#pro azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#gwyn acotar#gwyn x azriel#pro gwyn#azriel x gwyn#azriel and gwyn#azriel acotar#gwyn singing#gwynriel daughter#gwynriel endgame#gwynriel headcanon
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Fic Recommendations
a/n: another update... probably my last one for a while, college starts in like 3 days so yeah :) give some love to the authors and I completely understand reading a fic without reading tags (I do it all the time) but please please pleeeeeease read the trigger warnings. Also idk if you like... tag authors in these anymore, bit I am going to.
Lockwood & Co
Hear the Crackle of the Radio, I Know I'm Home - Lockwood x reader - @writtenontheport
drives me crazy series - Lockwood - @tangledinlove
heart eyes - Lockwood - @tangledinlove
I Need You - Lockwood - @genieofthebooks
Walk Me Home? - George Karim - @writtenontheport (every part)
ACOTAR
My Fearless Mate - Azriel - @k-daydreams
Spiders - Azriel - @danikamariewrites
Stitch up - Azriel - @florence-end
blushing - Lucien - @honeybeefae
Unexpected - Lucien - @profound-imagination
A voyage come to rest - Azriel - @unknownbyme
Shattered under your skin - Azriel - @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet
No More - Azriel/Tarquin - @redheadspark
Outer Banks
intimidated - JJ - @goldenroutledge
The Witcher
Home - Geralt - @lightning-hawke
The Summer I Turned Pretty
Dating Cam Cameron - @kaicubus (cam needs more love!)
taylor swift? - cam cameron - @suckerforprettyboys
Criminal Minds I know I have a spencer reid problem
Stardust - Spencer Reid - @imagining-in-the-margins (Im so sorry in advance)
New Traditions - Spencer Reid - @railingsofsorrow
the nice guy - Spencer Reid - @ebullientheart
afternoon nap - Spencer Reid - @in-another-april
tenesse whiskey - Spencer Reid - @evansflowers
im sorry - Spencer Reid - @gizmo-writes
meeting the team - Spencer Reid - @tinyluvs
meeting Diana - Spencer Reid - @tinyluvs
dad reid - Spencer Reid - @radiant-reid
JJ x Daughter!reader - jj - @tacotruckxveniceb1tch
Father Figure - Spencer Reid - @imagining-in-the-margins
Viral Video - Spencer Reid - @imagining-in-the-margins
Anticipation - Spencer Reid - @imagining-in-the-margins
I won't let go - Aaron Hotchner - @0and0its0doctor0
running to safety - Spencer Reid - @gizmo-writes
You're Losing Me (pt 2) - Aaron Hotchner - @14buddy22
glasses Reid!! -Spencer Reid @luveline
Hair cut - bau/derek - @luveline
fainting - Spencer Reid - @luveline
Harry Potter
seven minutes in heaven - slytherin gang - @azrielscrown
Neville Longbottom blurb - @sarahisslytherin
IF I CANT HAVE YOU BABY - Mattheo Riddle - @earthgirl616
Theo Nott - @veryberryjelly
baby, won't you be my girl? - Theo Nott - @azrielscrown
Pretty Crier - Mattheo Riddle - @ancientparsnips
Theo blurb - theo nott - @suugarbabe
butting heads - Lorenzo Berkshire - @s1ater
Theo Nott HC - @evergone
LOVEBITES AND POTIONS - Theo Nott - @caramelcal
romance by the season - Theo Nott - @anakinellie
#grace recommends#fic recs#harry potter fanfic#mattheo riddle#lockwood and co#theo nott x reader#anthony lockwood x reader#george karim x you#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#lucien vanserra x reader#outerbanks#jj maybank x reader#geralt of rivia x reader#tsitp x reader#cam cameron x reader#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#jj x daughter!reader#jennifer jareau x daughter!reader#bau x reader#x reader
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A Shadow’s Tale
Azriel x Pirate female!reader
CHAPTER ONE
summary: A new arrival to Velaris, aboard of your ship are presumed human legends. After the dead of your father, Captain Hook, who was allied to Hybern, you make the choice to break those bonds and ally with the High Lord of the Night Court in the upcoming war. However, it is easier said than done, for the distrust is big and you must prove yourself worthy of an alliance.
word count: 1200+
a/n: first time writing ACOTAR fanfic, characters do not belong to me except for the FMC, everything else is based on the book series by Sarah J Maas, however this is inspired only, does not relate directly to the actual story!
warnings: none
“As your second, I’m supposed to warn you they will not accept you that easily” Bonny said while pacing in front of your desk, “The High Lord is known to be relentless, and after all your father was an ally to Hybern.”
“My father’s poor decisions is what led me to do this.” You spoke standing up and resting your hands on your table, “Hybern left us with nothing, but we do have something that even the High Lord of the Night Court can’t say no to.”
“If he even lets you in his court, what do you think he will say about the fact that pirates do have magic?” Bonny came closer and whispered, “Stolen magic.”
“How would they know? There’s zero knowledge about our kind and even if there were, it’s most likely rumors created by foolish humans.”
“What if—“
“Enough! Bonny… We should be arriving soon, and I expect your discretion about any private issue regarding our… abilities.” You straightened and adjusted your jacket. Bonny only nodded with a frown and I smiled. “Great, I’ll do the talking, keep your eyes open. I��m sure they already know of our presence in their shores.”
—
Navigating through the wards of Velaris was somewhat exciting. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling. Hybern destroyed your family and stripped you of your riches and your life, but gave you something that was by far more important. A way through wards, spells and concealments. Which is how you and your crew entered the City of Starlight through the sea between the mountains. You got a glimpse of the city buildings in distance. The weather was warm and the sky was blue with very few clouds. Two blurs in the sky got your attention and that’s when you knew it was time.
You went into your cabin and grabbed your hat and tighten your boots. Two thumps were heard outside followed by a couple shrieks and you smiled to yourself. You walked out finding the Highlord’s General and Spymaster with drawn swords pointed at Bonny and Sebastian. Your mates were kneeling on the floor, unharmed, their hands up in surrender. Exactly how you had instructed. Harmless. That’s how everyone should appear to the Night Court.
You had left your sword back in your cabin as well. You didn’t want to seem like a threat.
“Where’s your captain?” The long hair general asked with a tone of authority and you simply smiled kindly at him opening your arms.
“You’re the Captain?” A scowl from the spymaster and you raised your eyebrows at him.
“How did you cross the wards?” The general asked and you smiled at him once more. “Do you not speak our language? How did you—“
“I understand you just fine,” you said with your best silky voice, “however I did not invite you to my ship nor do I recall making introductions.” You stepped forward and they directed their swords at you making you stop and lift your empty hands gaining a small chuckle from you.
“What’s your name and what are you doing here?” The general asked and you noticed the red gems from his suit glowing brighter.
“I will disclose my name to your Highlord seeing as my business is with him.”
“You first respond to us, then we decide if you get so much as a look in his direction.” You scowled at them shaking your hand.
“I’m not armed, my men are not armed, I present no threat to any of you and yet, you doubt my intentions.” You stated innocently.
“These wards have been up and reinforced by every powerful highlord for millennia, you want us to believe you come here with such power to break through and not consider you a threat?” The spymaster’s turn to question you and you blinked.
“I suppose you have a point, but let me propose a bargain.” You smiled, “I will anchor my ship on your shores while you announce my arrival to your Highlord, request a meeting with him on my behalf, and I shall wait for a response. I will not come near your little village until further notice and we all can be civil.”
They looked at each other and the general laughed, actually laughed! Your smile fell away.
“Azriel,” a command from the general to the spy master and a blur of shadows surrounded you tying your limbs close to your body. You grunted and fought against the restraints but to no avail.
You saw Bonny and Sebastian getting up to attack but you shot them a pointed look that said to stay down. You looked at the two gigantic figures.
“Is this really necessary?”
“My men will collect your crew. You’re coming with us.” No laughter left on his voice, another shared look and you thought you were going to fly but the spymaster came close and the next thing you saw was a mist of darkness as he lightly touched your arm. Then you felt yourself falling to the floor your knees and hands hitting cold concrete.
You didn’t say a word as you saw the spymaster looking at you from the shadows through the bars of a cell. You looked around noticing the cot and the a bucket. You tried to get to your feet but your legs gave out because of the months at sea. You heard Azriel scowling and you shot him a glare.
“Find it funny do you?”
“Yes actually,” he said darkly coming closer to the bars looking down on you, “You seemed so sure of yourself in your little boat and now you can’t even get up,” he sighed “it seems to me you’re all talk.” He purred and you crawled to the cot and pushed yourself up sitting on it.
“Yet you still feel the necessity to keep me in a cell, behind iron bars, while keeping your distance.”
“I don’t gamble with my prisoners.”
“You must be the life of the party then,” you joked.
“I don’t party either.” He said and you saw a glimpse of amusement on his eyes.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” You tilted your head and you waited for his response, he only scowled and went back into the shadows. “You could at least tell me where I am.”
“In the dungeons.” He deadpanned.
“Oh really? And here I thought this was your five stars hotel?” You put your hand over your heart and rolled your eyes, his gaze on you.
“You talk too much.”
“You talk too little.”
“I assure you you will be regretting asking for more on my part.”
You laughed loudly.
“What? Are you going to whip me or something?” You noticed him smiling darkly and you swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t…”
He raised his eyebrows and you only stared as he came closer, you didn’t even noticed when he walked through the bars as if they weren’t even there. You staggered back in the cot and he lowered himself putting each of his hands on either side on you. His face a couple inches from yours. You stayed very still, your eyes not leaving his. His gaze was dark and intimidating as he said: “It will depend on how willing you are to talk.” His breath was cold on your face and it smelled of morning breeze and a hint of cherry.
You smiled a little eyeing his mouth and then his eyes.
“You have a taste for cherries,” you noted and his brow furrowed.
Something shifted in his gaze and you swallowed again. It was probably a terrible idea to flirt with this male. After all you knew of the stories of his tortures. But you couldn’t help yourself as you felt his walls coming down a little.
He was about to reply when a darker presence filled the room and he walked away from you going back to the shadows. The cold gaze back on his face. The cell became colder than it had before and your heart was beating wildly as you felt darkness and talons trying to rip at your mind.
Your breaths came faster and you were painting when you heard his voice.
“I do not take lightly unwelcome guests in my Court, Miss Hook.”
Next Chapter
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Let me know your thoughts and based on those I'l either continue or just pretend this never happened lol <3
If you wanna be tagged on the next one also let me know :)
#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel angst#azriel x female!reader#pirate fantasy#pirate fanfic#Azriel acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fandom#fic#acotar fic#Azriel fic#Azriel fanfic#Azriel x reader#cassian acotar#rhysand acotar#captain hook#Captain Hook daughter#Captain Hook fanfic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#night court#velaris#pirate au
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omg this isn't a request or anything but could you imagine Azris babysitting Toddler Dahlia for a day 💀
THEY WOULD BE STRESSED.
Lucien would smugly hand her over to eris in such a sickly sweet tone that is far too sarcastic to have any good intentions and then just run away
While Eris looks at the child in his arms, so confident that he's got this since he has so many siblings. I feel like Azriel would be the type to have no experience AT ALL and probs poke the Dahlia and then get his finger bitten off.
(many lives were lost that day)
Lucien just winnows into Eris' office, holds up his daughter and is like "Do you wanna babysit your perfect, sweet, innocent little niece?? Of course you do!!!"
Before Eris can even get a word out Lucien is pretty much shoving Dahlia into Eris' arms, goes on for a moment about how easy she is to take care of then bolts out of the office.
Dahlia is giggling and babbling in his arms, Eris is like "Well then, just you and me little one."
Azriel shows up and is like "Wtf???" And Eris is like "This is my niece aka our niece and we are taking care of her today."
Then Dahlia spots a shiny breakable on Eris' desk and is immediately like, "Gimme!"
Eris, being super responsible, goes, "No, no that could hurt you if it breaks."
Dahlia looks up at Eris, and in the most serious voice a toddler can manage, says, "Gimme."
Eris says, "No."
Claws are out, there is screaming, there is crying, there is blood, there are bruises and there are tears. Azriel runs to the nearest corner and is hiding, while Eris is cursing and trying to tear this tiny ball of furry fury off of him.
Eris only manages to calm Dahlia down by lighting a nearby chair on fire, and ofc Dahlia being the chaos gremlin she is, is immediately like, "ooooh fire!" And forgets all about the shiny breakable.
So now the fear of Dahlia has been slapped into Eris and Azriel.
And the day is full of chaos, Eris still tries to say no and teach Dahlia she cannot get everything she wants, she does not take this very well.
Azriel is hiding from behind a chair, whenever Eris brings Dahlia into the room, Azriel either leaves or gets as far away as he can.
Then Dahlia is overtired, which means more outbursts and more destruction.
And then Azriel decides, 'I don't know anything about children, but when I was a kid, my shadows sung to me to calm me down and I'm desperate, so let's give that a shot."
So from the corner of the room, Azriel is hidden in his shadows and starts singing a lullaby. And Dahlia hears it and is like 'Interesting... this pleases me.' And she goes to sleep.
Eris is incriedbly indignant that Azriel was the one to get her to sleep so he hands Dahlia over to him and is like "You know what, you deal with her."
Azriel then does paperwork with Dahlia asleep in his arms, whenever she starts to fuss he hums under his breaths and she falls asleep again. Azriel is now smitten with his niece in law (Is that what she would be to him??)
Anyway, then Dahlia wakes up and is alight with energy and tries to bite Azriel in the wing.
Thankfully around this time Tamlin shows up to collect her and is like "Alright thats enough time to go home."
Tam has now developed a system for Dahlia, cause turns out all that biting and lashing out is because she's teething really badly. So, he shifts antlers, puts her on his head and Dahlia immediately chews on them and is happy again.
Then Tamlin's like "Thanks for looking after her, I know she's a handful!"
And off he goes.
Eris is now slamming his head into his desk because, of course, of course, of course it was teething!
Though when Dahlia is 200, she still likes to affectionately bite people so maybe it wasn't just teething :D
#this would be hilarious tho#so chaotic#so full of fun times#the fun times are really only for dahlia#azriel is still smitten#even after she bites him#who wouldn't be?#acotar#pro tamlin#tamlin#lucien vanserra#pro lucien vanserra#eris vanserra#pro eris vanserra#azris#tamcien#tamlin's daughter#acotar headcanons#acotar au
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This is random but even though it might not happen, I'd like to see Azriel being saved. He's The Shadow Singer, but I'd like to see him meet his match through a way in which she saves his life. Like he's bleeding, pathetic, laying on the ground and this warrior goddess just comes and saves his ass with a psychotic smile.
#azriel#azriel x reader#acotar#acotar x reader#aelin galathynius#tog x reader#i feel like he'd simp so hard#i would want it to be aelin and rowans daughter soooo bad
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Hello lovely!! Would you ever do a part 2 to Bad Idea right? Maybe the IC finds out about reader and Eris? 👀👀
I had planned for Part 1 to be a drabble only but I loved your ask so much that it’s going to be a short series now! I present to you, part 2. Thank you for this fun request!
Bad Idea, Right? - Part 2
Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter
Sleeping with a male your dad hates is fun… until you get caught.
A follow up to the drabble “Bad Idea, Right?”
Part 3
Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language
Holy mother and all the bullshit gods my ancestors prayed to, I’m so royally fucked.
A necklace. A damned necklace, and my family’s overall inability to mind their own business, sent everything spiraling.
Nobody paid any mind to the jewelry I chose for Starfall until Amren set her eyes on the unique amber and gold hued necklace dangling from my neck - coveting the thing. Its unique jewels apparently something she’d never seen in her over 15,000 years of living.
Lucien, who had come with Vassa, Jurian, and Helion in tow, of course, overheard the conversation. With his wealth of knowledge and abundant need to be the biggest know-it-all in the room, Lucien chimed in that the gems came from the Autumn Court, typically only worn by the leading family and their closest affiliates. His brows furrowed with contemplation as he waived a hand toward my décolletage asking, “Which makes me wonder, where did you come across this piece?”
Damn it, Lucien.
And damn it, Eris. Leave it the prick to give me a gift that’s as much of a pain in my ass as he is.
Reading the look on my face, Lucien and Vassa’s son, my childhood best friend, Adish cut in- “Oh, I uh, I gave it to her for her birthday a couple of years ago. I’m surprised you two forgot.”
Lucien and Vassa looked to eachother in contemplation, not totally buying it, but not pressing further.
I mouthed a “thank you” to Adish before Amren pulled me back in to inspect the piece further.
Naturally, Uncle Rhys had step in at that moment - reusing the same joke that I have heard a hundred times since I was a child - Amren is a firedrake who will snatch the necklace right off me blah, blah, blah.
“It really is a lovely piece.” Aunt Feyre joined in, my mother, Aunt Nesta, and father with her. The three sisters inspecting it closely.
Holy shit, have these people never seen a necklace before?
I could have sworn that one of my shadows rolled it’s not existent eyes in agreement.
“Where did you get that?” Dad asked. “Apparently I need to keep it in mind for your mother and aunts for Solstice.”
“Oh, um, it’s from the Autumn Court, Adish gave it to me two years ago for my birthday.” I replied, innocently tracing a finger along the gems as I gave a forced smile.
It was then that my all-to-observant, spymaster jr., little sneak of a sister made her presence known. “No he didn’t! Adish got you a scarf from the continent that year.”
How the hell did this little shit remember these things!?
“Whatever, Azalea, it must have been a different year then.”
“No sissy! He never bought you a necklace - he bought you a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings, but never a necklace.”
Good gods. This child.
Rolling my eyes at my snoop of a sister, I coolly replied “Whatever, Azzy, I suppose my memory isn’t quite as good as yours.” Silently praying to whoever would listen that nobody pressed further. Dad’s shadows agitated but settled when my own shadows wound over to mingle with them.
Amren gave me a suspicious look that could only mean trouble - but fortunately kept her mouth shut. As the remainder of the group dispersed to interact with the crowd, Amren grabbed my arm.
“Be careful, girl. I know better than to tell you what to do, just… keep your wits about you.”
Her intense eyes locked with mine to which I shrugged the comment off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I am not a fool, girl. I do not know you to be one either. Be careful.” the tiny fae chided as she sauntered off to find Varian.
Keeping a collected facade but needing some fresh air, I casually made my way toward a secluded balcony on the backside of the House of Wind.
Finally free of the crowd, I released all of the tension I’d been holding in, taking deep breaths in an effort of calming my nerves. I am an adult capable of making my own choices but… given the inner circles complicated history with Eris, and my fathers overall hatred of the male, I’d rather nobody know that we fuck each others brains out on occasion.
Frowning down at the necklace, I muttered curses to it that would make my mother, dear sweet Elain, keel over.
Too wrapped up in berating the jewelry, I didn’t notice the male behind me. I startled at the smooth voice cutting through the silence, his low tone dripping in lust. “Ah, little Shadowsinger, If you’d prefer a ring instead, I’m sure we could arrange that. Though I do say the necklace compliments your lovely assets quite well.” His eyes roved hungrily up and down my body, a primal gaze darkening those amber eyes and filled my core with heat. I nearly rolled my eyes back into my head as the intoxicating scent of mahogany and crackling fire filled my nostrils.
Regaining my wits and refusing to let him see how he effected me, I met those bedroom eyes with nothing but contempt. “Fuck off, Eris. Why are you here?”
He stepped closer. I stood my ground, no way was I going balk away from the challenge.
“Come now, little one, is that any way to speak to a High Lord? I was invited to the celebration tonight, as all of Prythian’s leaders were.”
Fair enough, but I wouldn’t let him win that easily. Waving him off, I commanded “Go find somewhere else to be a pain in the ass.”
Eris closed the distance, grabbing the wrist I had waived him away with. His head dipped down as his plush lips grazed the shell of my ear. His deep, sensual voice sent chills through me as he replied, “I can only promise pleasure when it comes to that beautiful ass, Y/N.”
Releasing my hand, Eris reached both hands around me, palms pressing into my ass as his fingers hitched my dress up to expose my thighs and barely clothed sex to the brisk evening air. In one swift motion he scooped me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. As his lips crashed into mine I bit the lower one just hard enough to draw blood before licking it away and kissing the hurt. His tongue then swooped into my mouth, battling for dominance against my own, a low growl escape his throat, reverberating through me.
Placing me on the balcony ledge, Eris situated himself between my spread legs, desperately palming at my breasts as I threw my head back, exposing the column of my throat to him. He lightly nipped down the length of my neck and my protruding collar bones before falling to his knees before me. His lust-filled eyes met mine as he cooed, “You could bring any male to their knees before your beauty, but this…” he pushed aside the lace thong, exposing me to him, “this gorgeous, dripping cunt belongs to your High Lord, and your High Lord only.”
His skilled tongue deftly swiped up my center, eliciting a moan from me. I looked down into his eyes - mesmerized by the amber hues peering at me from under his lashes. My fingers found purchase in his fiery red locks as I firmly stated, “I belong to no one and you are not my High Lord, Eris.”
His responding nip to my swollen clit drew a sharp gasp from me. Eris let out a satisfied hum in return as he resumed feasting like a starved male. Perhaps that’s what kept drawing me back into the bastards bed - his insatiable hunger fueled by that eagerness to please that only amplified with the calloused remarks I threw at him. Most females fell at his feet - throwing themselves at the chance to serve a High Lord. Whereas most males ran as far away as they could upon realizing that my father was the infamous Shadowsinger.
One of my shadows caressed the base of his neck, circling back around as to tilt his chin up. His needy eyes met mine again. “Fuck me, Eris.”
In an instant he was up, standing before me. Biting my lip, I clenched my thighs together at the sight of the incredibly evident arousal pressing against his trousers. He fumbled with the buckles on them, when suddenly a grating sound filled the air - the balcony doors flying open. “Sissy! Aunt Mor wants to see your neckl- oh wow, who is that!?”
Fuck me. This cannot be happening.
I jumped up, pulling my dress down before my little sister could see the exposed flesh.
I scrambled for words, voice cracking as I scolded, “She can wait, Azzy, just go back inside.”
It was too late though, as my father’s shadow that had been trailing her all evening had already reported back and before Eris or I could flee, my father, mother, Uncle Rhys, and Lucien winnowed onto the balcony.
————————————————-
Stay tuned for part three!
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fourteen
Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: Secrets are revealed, relationships are tested, and the arrival of new guests at the River House make things all the more complicated. Oh and some canon typical violence.
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
There was something cold and damp against your forehead, the bitter taste of medicine lingered on your tongue, dry and acrid, and a faint pulsing near the base of your skull.
“She’s waking up.” Gwyn’s voice came to your ears through fifteen feet of water. “You can hold her hand, if you’d like. She can handle it now.”
A hand slid into yours, palms calloused from hundreds of years spent swinging a sword. Warm and heavy. Golden light pricked behind your eyes like sunlight through thin curtains and you woke up to the sun smiling down on you, red-eyed and weary.
“Helion?” His healing touch traveled over you, whisking away any remaining tenderness in your stomach. You whimpered when he wove his fingers through your hair, gently peeling apart any tangles. It felt nice to be touched by him. Safe.
“I’m here.”
“It hurts,” you murmured, even though you couldn’t identify the pain very well. It seemed to exist both within you and outside of you, pressing down on your chest until even breathing felt unnatural. Everything just… hurt. Your head, your heart, your throat. Like you’d swallowed a mouthful of hot ash. “I’m so… I’m so tired.”
Again Helion combed your hair back with his fingers and you felt the sore spot on the back of your head prickle when he touched it. The blood had been cleaned, the wound closed, but you could still feel it there like a stamp sinking into your skin. The same way you could feel the stretch of scar tissue over your stomach. A thick, pale line a few inches below your sternum.
“You’re ok, my dear. Rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“Thanks Dad,” you whispered, but you were already slipping away. You wouldn’t remember what you called him when you woke up again.
Helion gritted his teeth and brushed away the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks, then his own.
“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said to the empty air.
The next time you awoke was not so pleasant. There was no caressing hand down your face. No slow murmurs from your father. No warm light blinking in the darkness.
There was the banging of doors. Cassian’s alarmed shouts mixing with Rhysand and Mor’s, and Feyre’s commands for Nyx to take Velaria upstairs and lock the door behind them.
“Don’t come down until I get you, ok sweetie?” The boy’s footsteps were light and quick up the stairs as he calmed a startled Velaria with gentle coos.
“Gwyn?” You reached across the bed for the priestess’s hand. Her robes looked like they were glowing to your sleep-dazed eyes.
Her teal eyes were hard. The grip on her knife tight.
“Gwyn, what’s happening?”
“Shhhh. Go back to sleep.”
Helion roared and the River House shook down to its foundations. The silky covers stuck to your weak arms, slippery and cool as you gripped Gwyn’s arm and forced yourself to stand. Your knees immediately buckled and Gwyn’s awaiting arms caught you in a sprawl of heavy limbs.
The House trembled once more. The wooden banisters creaked. The faelights that sat on swooping, wrought iron curls blinked on and off, signaling the House’s alarm as the floor slipped and slid beneath your feet. Help me! The House seemed to shout.
“Gwyn.”
“Hold onto me.”
You leaned heavily against the priestess’s side, her arm wrapped around your waist, and together you stumbled out the door and into the hallway.
You blinked, eyes adjusting to the lamplight just as Cassian flew across the room, crashing into the fireplace mantle in a burst of color that had you turning pale. The glass figurines and picture frames cracked and shattered in a rain of glass. But Cass only grumbled, “This is what I get for helping,” before bouncing onto his feet and charging back into the foyer where Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor stood. Rhysand kept his arm out in front of the two sisters and grabbed Mor’s arm before she could step further.
“Let them go.” Rhys said, his voice low and deadly. He knew something they didn’t. “Helion has a right to this.”
“It wasn’t Azriel’s fault,” Mor seethed.
“Doesn’t matter. I’d do the same if anyone hurt Velaria.”
“What the hell does that—”
Helion slammed Azriel’s bloody and bruised body against the wall with a snarl. The shattered vases in the hallway and the blood dripping from Azriel's broken nose clear evidence that you'd stumbled upon this fight a few minutes late.
Helion held a fistful of black leather in one hand and a gleaming sword of pure light angled up just beneath Azriel’s sternum in the other. His skin burned so brightly even Azriel’s shadows had slunk away to seek shelter in the few remaining dark corners of the House.
“You bastard,” Helion spit out the words like venom.
Azriel hung limp and exhausted, wings brushing against the floor. The bruises beneath his eyes and the cut of his cheeks spoke of days spent without sleep. Days spent prowling Velaris for Andrian. Days spent waiting outside your door for you to wake up.
“You think I don’t see what game you’re playing? This pathetic pattern of yours?” Helion’s eyes flashed a dangerous yellow.
“Helion!” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “Let him go!”
“It’s not a game,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “It’s never been a game. Not with her.”
“Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” Helion snarled. He pulled Azriel off the wall only to slam him back into it. Cracks splintered out like spiderwebs. Dust floated down and landed in Azriel’s hair like snow. “It wasn’t so long ago that you were convinced enough about a mating bond with Elain to invoke a fucking Blood Duel with Lucien Vanserra. Now you’re chasing after Y/n’s skirts like a dog? Looking at her with lovesick eyes as if being near you won’t bring anything but death on her head?”
You went still.
He’d… he’d challenged Elain’s mate to a Blood Duel?
He’d believed they were mates?
All at once it made sense why Elain and Lucien had disappeared to the Mortal Lands, chased away by a violence that should have ended with either Lucien or Azriel ritualistically buried in the ground. Nothing but a pint of blood and a name to remember them by. All at once it made sense why it had been so long since their family had lived under one roof.
Your words shriveled up in your throat and died there.
Azriel stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously.
Helion clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re not the only one who hears whispers, Shadowsinger,” he hissed. “First it was Mor you pined after for five-hundred years, then Elain, then the priestess. One right after the other like a prize just out of reach.”
Gwyn tensed beside you and your heart tightened in your chest like untempered glass ready to shatter.
“Gwyn?” You whispered.
You had no right to Azriel, no right to know about his past exploits with females, but still it felt like something you should have been told after long nights spent in the priestess’s presence. Months of living under their roof, eating their food, and falling in love without a whisper of warning. The things they must have whispered about when you weren’t in the room.
Her silence was all you needed to hear. Greasy and rotten.
Azriel’s hands shook the more Helion spoke.
“You like your females broken and vulnerable. You like it when they need you. When you get to swoop in feeling like some grand hero. So you felt you had the right to go after my daughter! And then you were too weak to protect her when the time came? You dared to lay a hand on her are you fucking kidding me?!”
The world froze at those two words. The Inner Circle was shocked into complete silence.
You swayed dangerously as the floor tilted beneath your bare feet.
Is that what they thought of you? Is that what Azriel thought of you? Broken. Weak. Pathetic. Someone who couldn’t handle their own. Someone who had needed saving. An easy target to charm and dazzle. A Librarian who’d been left alone for so long she’d throw herself at the first handsome male who smiled in her direction.
Azriel stiffened.
You were Helion’s daughter. And somehow that made everything worse, because Azriel knew how lonely you’d been as a child and how much losing your mother had nearly destroyed you. You’d shoved yourself into the Alcove where everything was familiar and safe, and all this time Helion had just stood by and done the bare minimum.
Azriel had been holding back his rage — his pain — but he felt it erupt with new passion. Lingering jealousy, that acid that had been building up every time you mentioned Helion or touched the necklace he’d gifted you, added fuel to the fire. Shadows burst out from his hands and ate away at Helion’s magic like a plague.
“Don’t you dare,” Azriel growled and spit blood onto the floor by Helion's feet, “You weren’t even here. She could have died on those streets.” His voice was hoarse and on the verge of breaking, “And you wouldn’t have been there.”
And he might not have been there either.
Rhys had held him back, refusing to let go even as Azriel had tried to crawl to you on broken bones. Even as Azriel had screamed for you.
Helion's face twisted into something ugly and foreign to you, because deep down he knew the true reason he was so enraged at the Shadowsinger. It was like looking in a mirror. They’d failed you in similar ways.
“Helion… Helion no!” But your father didn’t listen.
His power shot out in a blaze of light and heat and slammed into Azriel’s chest. His shadows were barely able to soften the blast. Azriel saw you then, shock and horror seeping down the bond along with something that felt a lot like heartbreak. You watched wide-eyed and slack jawed as the wall bowed out and then snapped in two. Azriel was thrown onto the front lawn, a gaping tear left in the House like a knife wound.
Helion stepped outside and stalked up to Azriel like a lion out for blood. There was murder and hatred in his eyes.
Everyone was shouting again as he raised his sword.
You felt a flare of something bright and hot in your chest, like a shot of whiskey or the first bleeding rise of the sun. You stood up on your own, eyes burning with a glassy, gold sheen that had Gwyn stepping away from you with a gasp. You were glowing, pure and clear and strong.
You’d only felt like this twice before. First, when you’d grabbed hold of Henna and stopped hiding who you really were, and then once more at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf mere minutes before Azriel had turned the book to ash. Both moments where your power demanded to be felt. Moments when your emotions turned to magic.
“Helion.” Your voice echoed throughout the room and into the wide open space beyond, eerie and calm. So loud. So quiet. Like an aching whisper in pitch black darkness. “Let. Him. Go.”
Helion blinked in surprise with his arms still raised over his head. Inch by inch that blade of bright light faded away with the dying light of a sunset. His eyes cooled and that magic rage left his body. He staggered away from where Azriel lay on the ground.
Your hands were trembling, but you forced them to be calm as Azriel got back on his feet, hazel eyes boring into yours. He drank in the sight of you. Your wrapped forearm. The white bandages around your middle peering through your thin nightgown. Your clean hair.
The smell of blood was but a distant nightmare, even if he swore he could still feel it on his ruined hands. Slippery and dark.
You turned to leave.
“Y/n, wait!” Azriel shoved a stunned Helion out of his way, racing back into the House in a blur of darkness. “Y/n,” he begged and reached out his hand, “Please let me explain.”
You froze. The weight of his hand wrapping around your wrist and the rough feel of his scars against your fluttering pulse pinned you to the floor. You felt uncentered — off kilter — and without meaning to, you were thrust into his mind.
You felt the way he’d pined after Mor for centuries. Always close by. Waiting. Watching for the moment she might actually look at him and realize what he was willing to become for her. Someone to love and kiss and take to bed. Someone who’d never have cast her off into that wood. Someone who would do whatever she asked until she was smiling and whole again.
You felt the way he looked at Gwyn, like she could be the answer to all his questions. Like she could be the one to hone all his sharp edges with her delicate smile and her creamy skin and dewdrop eyes. Because if she could love him, it might actually mean something. It would mean he was capable of fixing, not just destroying.
You… you knew the ways he’d imagined Elain. Three sisters for three brothers. Mates. Fate. Love. How he’d imagined touching her. How he had touched her. The thrill of hiding away in dark corners and the soft skin of her fragile neck beneath his lips. The arch of her back. Wood grain beneath his fingers as he pressed her up against a wall and kissed her. How he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else ever again.
You felt the acidic contents of your stomach surge and wrenched your hand out of his grasp.
Azriel faltered, eyes wide and staring. Something inside of him fractured and broke. You hadn’t pulled away from him like that since Summer Solstice back when you were strangers and meant nothing to one another. But even then you hadn’t looked at him with this much feeling. This much betrayal.
His arm was still outstretched and hanging in the empty air.
Tears dotted your eyes, but you forbid them from falling. Not in front of him. Never in front of him.
“I am not broken.”
You went back to your room and slammed the door shut.
“I thought he liked me,” you murmured pathetically, leaning against Helion’s side. He’d slid into your room quietly and approached you like a wounded animal ready to scatter.
Your father hesitated, fingers caught in hair that reminded him so painfully of Leda — of your mother. Things had not ended well between them, but he could think of her with nothing less than fondness and gratitude. After all, Leda had given birth to you. Brilliant, wonderful, beautiful you.
He listened to the House and the way it seemed to be holding its breath. The doors shut a little tighter. The curtains hugged the windows. And across the hall shadows lingered by the door of Azriel’s room, reaching out towards yours but never crossing the threshold. They were held back by their master’s tight leash.
“I know this might come as a surprise after what I did, but I… He did like you. He does like you. They all do. How could they not?”
You shook your head slowly. “But not in the way I want him to. Not in the way I lo—” You shut your mouth and sighed bitterly. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and before you knew it you were crying again, leaking tears onto Helion’s bare shoulder and feeling wretched.
Azriel curled in on himself, collapsed on the floor like a broken doll with knees pulled up to his chest as he ignored the pulling of his shadows.
She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. They repeated over and over again, yanking on his leathers and strands of ebony black hair. Helion had left for one of the guest bedrooms upstairs after you cried yourself to sleep. Now was Azriel’s chance to beg for your forgiveness. To explain himself. To hope.
She needs you.
Azriel shrugged them off, scattering their disembodied voices with a wave of his gloved hand. He was back to wearing them.
I am the last thing she needs.
“Lucien’s found one of Bethsevah’s descendants.”
Gwyn stood by the doorway, pale skin and blue robes outlined by the mountain’s red walls. The priestess kept her hands behind her back, wringing them in a nervous twist of bitten fingernails, and waited for you to finally look up from your notes.
You didn’t like spending time at the House. You hated the way everyone’s attention shifted to you whenever you entered a room; the look of tight, empathetic smiles and knowing glances filling their eyes. It wasn’t that they were trying to be unkind, but you knew they whispered about the power you’d displayed. About your status as Helion’s bastard daughter. About the absolute state that Azriel was in.
This morning, when you’d left your room for Cagniv Library, Azriel had been waiting, filling his bedroom door frame with a hauntingly tortured look in his eyes.
“Y/n, please—”
You’d left without a second glance in his direction, footsteps hurried and head bowed down. His shadows had followed you to the front steps of the house, but no further and you couldn’t help but feel a weight in your chest thinking about how Azriel had looked. He’d started wearing the gloves again.
Bethsevah’s name rang through the air like a jolt of electricity. After thousands of years, her name still held a strength that demanded to be felt. The book was gone. Whatever magic Azriel had been forced to perform had swept it away to the Continent, and Rhys and Feyre had been wracked with worry and preparations ever since. Favors called in. Threats made. Weapons forged. Bodies armed. At any point they might be called away to the Continent, or forced to reckon with a Death God at their door.
You’d helped in your own way by digging through your notes on mating bonds and the manuscript that was becoming more useful each day.
Thanatos and the Bone Carver, one and the same, and mated to Bethsevah Mordeigh. Magic that wasn’t the same, but perfectly complementary. Magic that worked as a lock and a key.
You were made to ruin me.
Your initial theory, the one you’d shared with Azriel in that cramped apartment at the Alcove, had turned out to be true. Bethsevah, and Bethsevah alone as Thanatos’s mate, had possessed the ability to split him from his power and lock him away, and because his magic was cut from the same kind as his siblings, Beth had been able to do the same with Stryga and Koschei. Her blood, her genetic connection to that magic, would be the only thing capable of releasing the power in the lake.
All magic could trace itself back to a biological underpinning.
You were made to ruin me.
The memory was burned behind your sleepless eyes and haunted your dreams, but sometimes when you stopped concentrating so hard on the harsh angles that made up the Bone Carver’s face, you caught him transforming. Black eyes turned to brandy. His reed thin body filled out and grew strong. Wings sprouted from his back. His pale skin turned tan and scarred.
You were made to ruin me, Y/n. Azriel would say, and you’d pretend that the look of utter love and adoration in his eyes was real.
“When will they be arriving?”
Gwyn sighed in relief. You’d been so quiet the last few days. “Tomorrow.”
Mor bit her cherry red lips, glancing at Rhys and Feyre with worry in her eyes as they all stood in a row ready to greet their guests. Rhys was schooling his features into one of careful neutrality, but Mor had known him for centuries. She’d seen him through his awkward teenage years when his skin wasn’t so perfect and his body grew like a weed in Spring. Back when his temper wasn’t so honed and his ego undeserved. She knew when he was agitated. The squaring of his shoulders. The set of his eyes. The faintest twitch of his left ear.
What a fucking mess this all was. If he thought about it too hard it gave him a raging headache.
Azriel and Y/n were mates, although Y/n didn’t know and no one knew how to tell her, especially after Azriel had stabbed her through the chest under Andrian’s influence. Helion had nearly killed Az. Azriel had nearly killed Lucien. And if anyone ever told Lucien about Y/n being his half-sister, he was sure Lucien would try and kill Azriel too… again. And— oh FUCK. Helion didn’t know Lucien was his son. Y/n didn’t Lucien was her half-brother. Fuck fuck FUCK. Cauldron boil me.
Rhysand rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
Azriel stood motionless, nothing but the minor sway of his wings and the masked look of anguish in his eyes to hint that he was still reeling from that day in the market square. He couldn’t stop glancing over at where you stood between Mor and Cassian, every inch of your skin covered and a forcefully blank look on your face.
Truth Teller was no longer strapped to his thigh. His shadows had returned, but with hesitance, and Rhys couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Azriel eat something. Every family meal that you didn’t attend, Azriel would just stare at your empty seat and flinch at the sound of knives dragging through meat.
Feyre winced at the onslaught of Rhysand’s thoughts. Do we even want to attempt to fix any of that right now?
Feyre darling, where would we even begin?
At least Helion’s moved to the House of Wind. Feyre offered it as a small consolation. Took me a while to convince him of that.
Rhys gritted his teeth. And he will stay on that fucking mountain.
Lucien had gone his entire life not knowing about Helion precisely because when he stood next to his brothers he blended in. There was just enough similarity there in the silhouette of their faces and their overwhelmingly bright red hair, that no one had ever batted an eye at the seventh son of Autumn. But put Lucien and Helion side by side and a keen eye would make out the same strong slope of their noses, the same dimples on their cheeks when they smiled, and the way their brow bones hung over deep set eyes.
You possessed such an eye — an eye for details and specifics. So when Lucien Vanserra walked through the front doors with the setting sun splashing his frame with fire and light, Elain glowing and beautiful beside him, you knew immediately who he was.
Fuuuuccccckkkkkk. Cassian groaned. Nesta, she knows.
Stop it. There’s no way she figured it out that quickly. Nesta said. Then she actually looked at you. Your mouth was open in a round “o” and your face had gone pale. Oh for fuck’s sake. Really?
Your gaze was locked on Lucien as he walked up to Rhysand and shook his hand.
“Lucien, welcome back to the Night Court. It’s been too long.”
His golden eye whirred, moving up and down the line and lingering first on Azriel. His full lips flattened, freckled nose twitching with thinly veiled distaste. “Not long enough.” But his many years spent as emissary wiped the emotion from his face quickly and he moved on, greeting everyone with a detached kindness.
“Luc.” The High Lady grinned, finally tugging a genuine smile from Lucien Vanserra’s lips.
“Hey Feyre.”
She wrapped him in her arms, closing her eyes and giving him a hearty squeeze.
“It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.”
There was a somber familiarity there, and you got the sense that Feyre was the only one Lucien truly felt connected to. Whatever history he had with the other members of the Inner Circle was tolerable at best.
You finally caught his eye — the one strange face he’d never seen before. He easily towered above you, built with Helion’s strong legs and resplendent in a deep green riding cloak and cream-colored trousers that accentuated the tinge of color in his skin and his mismatched eyes.
He tipped his head to the side, his long braid falling over his shoulder, and smiled softly. “You must be the Librarian that got roped into all of this madness.” Yes. Because that’s all you were to him — some unnamed female from the Day Court. An unfortunate victim of circumstance. “Y/n Halwynn.”
You blinked, surprised to hear him speak your name so casually when you were reeling over the fact that standing in front of you was another one of Helion’s children. Another bastard that perhaps should never have been. Your half-brother.
“The one and the same.”
Lucien evaluated the shrewd set of your eyes and the fit of your clothes over straightened shoulders and found that, at first glance, he quite liked you. You were of the bookish variety — that much was evident in the small novels dragging down your pockets and the smudged inkstains on your fingertips — but you held yourself in front of him well. You looked kind, if not skittish.
“Lucien Vanserra.” He held out his hand and you regarded it with hesitance before accepting it.
“I know the name.”
“It is a rather infamous last name.”
“Bit of an infamous first name too.”
Lucien smiled a little wider. Yes. He quite liked you.
Elain hugged her sisters in turn, breathing in their familiar scent and gripping them tightly. Her time in the Human Lands had served her well. Gone were the days of frail bones and heavy eyes always looking out sunny windows. Her skin was flush with color, her hands strong and calloused, and her knees pleasantly bruised after months spent laboring in the fields outside Vassa and Jurian’s manor. She smelled like soil and flowers. She was as lovely as everyone had always described her. The second Archeron sister who’d been born with an unnatural beauty even before turning fae.
Your eyes dropped to the floor so you wouldn’t have to see what Azriel did when she greeted him. But it didn’t matter. They avoided one another carefully, and Azriel kept looking at you, begging you to lift up your eyes so he could offer you a smile.
A word.
A glance.
Anything.
Bethsevah’s descendant appeared next, willful and stunning in her own way as she waited by the door. Her frizzy grey hair was held away from her face with a strap of leather, stormcloud eyes staring out unflinchingly from a time-worn face. Everything about her was grey from her hair to her clothes and the iron jewelry that hung from her neck and wrists. Cassian sometimes forgot how humans wore their age so openly, and how this woman in particular seemed to brandish it like a weapon.
“Ione Morgana.” Her voice was deep and hardy. Her eyes narrowed at everyone now that the familiar introductions had finished. “That’s my name and it’s the name my family has carried as long as we can remember. Although the redhead seems to believe otherwise. I am old, as you creatures can very well see, and I am tired. My parents are long gone. My sons dead. My sisters dead too. Now,” she banged her walking stick on the ground, although she hadn’t used it when walking up the steps, “Which one of you will see me to my room?” Her words came out more as a command than a question.
Rhys tipped his head to the side, his surprise evident on his face. “You’re a very bold woman. Do you not comprehend who you’re standing in front of? My wife in particular?”
“Boldness comes with age.” She stuck her nose in the air like a wolf sniffing for a bunny, “Something you’d do well to learn.”
An amused smile grew on Rhysand’s face. “I’m over five hundred years old.”
“You certainly don’t act like it, standing all crooked like a tryhard.”
Cassian coughed into his fist and Mor snickered.
“I could kill you.”
Rhys!
Relax, my love, I’m just curious how she will react.
The woman — Ione — hardly reacted at all. In fact, she almost smiled. “Time can kill me. Sickness can kill me. At this point a stiff wind could knock me down and break my back. You’re not special.” She whacked her walking stick again, harder this time. “Now. My room?”
Nesta raised and then dipped her head in silent acknowledgement and together they disappeared into the east wing of the house looking like two grey chess pieces moving over the tiles.
“Wonderful isn’t she?” Elain commented with a fond look in her eyes. She was Ione’s favorite by far.
Jurian came in last, sweat beading his brow as he dragged a huge steel cage up the steps, and Lucien and Elain’s faces turned solemn. Vassa flitted inside her prison — a cage within a cage so that she couldn’t snap at Jurian’s hands when he got too close. His eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bruised and bloody.
Your breath hitched in your throat. You’d imagined the firebird as something majestic. You’d imagined feathers dipped from the richest dyes trailing light from their ends like red, green, and blue sparklers. Instead, her eyes were the only vibrant feature about her, and they were sharp from hunger.
“What’s happened to her?” Cassian breathed. When he stepped forward, Vassa lunged from her perch, screeching when she clashed with the steel grate. Her claws tore at the metal but never broke through the magic Lucien had placed there.
Jurian whispered words of comfort and love through the metal, and in time, Vassa seemed to settle.
“It started last week,” Lucien said through clenched teeth, “The day Koschei got his hands on the book, Vassa started going mad. She can’t sleep, not in her human form or as a firebird, and she keeps… hungering for something she can’t name. The day we found Ione, she…”
“She tried to kill me.” Jurian raised his hands and slid his sleeves down. Claw marks, barely healed, ran jagged down his arms. “Let’s not mince words, Lucien.” He grimaced. “Koschei’s trying to call her back to the lake, but she’s fighting it with everything she has.” He looked back at Vassa, eyes dull and tired. She screeched once again and feathers fell from her body before curling up into blackened husks on the floor. You could just make out the sections of skin where she’d ripped out her own feathers, raw and dotted pink with blood. “I suggest you give us a room far away from everyone else.”
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's Note:
^^ Me writing this chapter because Helion finally beat the shit out of Azriel and revealed all the tea about his past relationships with Mor, Elain, and Gwyn and because I got to bring Lucien to the Night Court. And soon! We'll get to see how Lucien reacts when he learns that Y/n is his sister!!!!!!!
#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#azriel x reader#azriel x reader slowburn#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x reader angst#yessssss Helion beat him up!#Daddy Helion to the rescue#we love a character with “don't touch my daughter” energy!
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Not Again
Azriel x Rowaelin Daughter Reader
Summary: Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.
Series Masterlist
-Part One-
There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. He would’ve thought just that if it hadn’t been for the keen wisps of shadows at his shoulders whispering in his ears, outside, someone’s here, outside, here, here, here, here.
The room filled with his family was non the wiser as the shadowsinger shifted towards the door, all of them talking and laughing by the fire place. Feyre and Rhys cozied up on the loveseat, little Nyx nestled in his mothers arms. Nesta sitting on Cassian’s lap, the sisters talking about the recent books they’d read, his brothers admiring their mates. Mor sipped on her third glass of wine, listening to Elain talk about her blooming garden while she absently fiddled with her still full glass, Lucien sitting comfortably by her side, content to just listen to his mate talk. Amren was nowhere to be found tonight, Varian presumably in town.
Azriel found it easy to slip out the back door, ready to deal with the supposed trouble without disturbing his family’s peace. His shadows didn’t seem alarmed, persistent, but not noting any imminent threat. Despite their ease, he found Truth Teller in his hand, ready to deal with whoever he found if necessary.
It was dark outside, the brisk night air dancing over his fire warmed skin. Calm, no sign of that subtle shift, nothing but his shadows urging him towards the garden, towards whoever was out here causing the small disturbance.
He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Maybe a drunk who wandered to far from the main streets of Velaris, maybe a curious young fae who just wanted a glimpse of the inner circle. He’d dealt with his fair share of both, gently warning them away from the home.
But whatever he’d been expecting it certainly wasn’t what he found. A female laid on the ground, clothes and skin covered with dirt and blood, her body sprawled like she’d been thrown down without care. He could sent fresh blood on her coming from a wound on her head, the stream of it dripping down onto the stones beneath her. Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat strong.
Azriel clenched the blade’s hilt tight in his hand, drawing closer to her slowly. Her scent drifted towards him on a phantom wind, pine and snow, like the mountains of Illryia. Despite his resentment of the people who lived there, the scent reminded him of home.
His shadows curiously trail around the female, finding more and more injuries, a cut on her thigh, bruising across her abdomen. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of violence. She was high fae, her ears arched into delicate points, though he could not discern which court she may belong too. Her clothes were to disheveled to detect a distinct style, black leather pants and a long sleeved green shirt beneath a leather vest sheathed with knives like a bandolier. Clothes that could belong to any court, maybe even from the continent.
So busy examining her he didn’t detect the change in her breathing until it was to late.
The female launched up with such speed he was almost to slow to block the attack. She’d pulled one of those knives from her vest, it’s wickedly sharp edge to close to his throat for comfort. Truth Teller blocked the blade, the metal singing against her dagger. The female was quick to pull back, not lunging again like he thought she would but reaching for a smaller knife at her ribs, it was flying through the air faster than he could blink, aiming for his eye with remarkable accuracy, Cassian would be proud of a throw like that. The only reason it didn’t take his eye was due to a shadow darting out to grab the blade midair.
The female is a blur as she lunges again, going for the arm holding his blade. He dodges back, the strike missing him by a hair. She’s fast, faster than most fae he’s fought over the centuries. He catches her next strike, a blow to his side that could’ve left him bleeding out on the floor. She pulls back and retreats a few steps, her stance shifting back like she might jump at him again.
“Stop,” he snarls at her.
She hisses, baring her teeth at him, teeth with unusually sharp canines, and then she speaks, a language he’d never heard before. And that’s when the pieces start to click, when his shadows start to whisper, not of this world, another, another world, another, another, another.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grounds out, “not again.”
The female only snarls, reaching for another of those small wicked blades. She flips it, pinching the sharp tip between her fingers.
“Wait,” he says, sheathing his dagger at his side, “just wait.”
Her eyes track his movements, the ice cold look in them enough to make him shiver. It felt like the air around them tried to freeze under her gaze, the wind no longer a soft breeze but an ice kissed howl.
His head cocked to the side, that was her, she was controlling the wind. The air swirling around them faster and faster, colder and colder.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said though he was sure she couldn’t understand him.
He held his hands up so she could see them, willing his shadows away so he could look as unthreatening as possible. When the last unknown female had landed on this lawn, she’d fallen right in front of him, he’d been able to get his blade angled to her throat before she had anytime to react, this female on the other hand, had managed to get the jump on him first, a fact that his brothers would never let him live down.
The wind bit at his wings, discomfort sooner turning to pain if it kept up like that. It felt like the moisture in the air was turning to ice, slicing into his skin.
She repeats her words, her voice hard and unforgiving just like the wind around them. A shield, he realized, a casing of wind to block all sound, to keep others out and to keep him trapped.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, hoping she can understand the plea in his tone.
Her head tilts, examining him from head to toe, a predator studying its next meal. In that moment, Azriel had never felt more like prey in his life. She had an intensity that rivaled Nesta and Amren, like she knew she was the most powerful creature in the room and she’d be happy to prove it. This female was dangerous, strong, fast, and from another world just like Bryce Quinlann, he could only hope she’d turn out to be an ally as well.
Blood still drips down her face, the cut on her brow deep and jagged, like it had been ripped across a dull object. The scent of her blood filled his nose, laced with that pine and snow, and something warm, like an ember drifting from a fire. Again, it smelled uncannily like home.
Those cold eyes flare wide, the frost bitten wind warming a fraction. Something in her posture shifts, no longer in fight mode, but flight.
“Stop,” he pleads, “hold on.”
Her voice shifts when she speaks, lighter and less harsh, he still can’t understand any of it. His confusion must be evident on his face because she scoffs, lowering the dagger to her side, still not sheathing it. The wind fades away, replaced by a warm gentle breeze that thaws his near frozen wings.
Azriel sighs in relief and she cocks her head at the sound. Her eyes take in his wings, noting the frost on them that slowly melts away. The air seems to get even warmer then.
“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head to show his gratitude, all while keeping an eye on her.
Though she seems to be less hostile, he wouldn’t let his guard down for a second around her.
He felt it then, the gentle prying talons on his mind, ones he instantly let in. Showing Rhys exactly where he was and who was before him.
Not again, Rhys sighs.
That’s what I said, Azriel replies.
And then that night kissed power settles around them, the female’s eyes hardening back to ice, dagger already raised and ready to defend herself. Azriel was half tempted to tell her it wasn’t worth it, that there was little she could do against Rhys, but he kept his mouth shut as his high lord appeared before them. Giving the female that cool charming look that had most ready to eat out of the palm of his hand.
She didn’t have that kind of reaction, instead she lifted that dagger towards his high lord, a snarl on her lips, those vicious canines on display.
“Well that’s interesting,” Rhys says, coolly looking her over, “high fae, but not one of ours.”
She snaps at him, words he couldn’t understand but by the way she ground them out Azriel could tell they weren’t niceties.
“I’m sure that was her way of calling me a prick,” Rhys chuckles, “I’d recognize it in any language.”
Azriel eyes the two of them, he has no doubts that his high lord could defend himself against the female, but after the last encounter he’d had with a foreign fae he didn’t want to underestimate her. Rhys seems to agree, Azriel can almost see the invisible attack he launches, and he sees the exact moment Rhys hits a wall of pure ice around her mind.
His high lord hisses in pain at the exact moment a bright blue light flares from the female, a mark shining on her brow. The mark like those in the book of breathings, like the horn on Bryce’s back.
The female swears, free hand touching that mark as if she could will it back beneath her skin. Her dagger is aimed for Rhys, but her eyes dance between them both, watching for any movement from Azriel, ready to take both of them on in a heartbeat if it was necessary.
“Go get Amren,” Azriel says, “and bring one of those damned translators.”
Rhys is gone within a split second, and the female is angling that dagger at Azriel instead, a warning to stay back, she makes no move to fight nor flee, her frozen stare colder than before though the air continues to stay warm.
Azriel simply holds his hands in the air, “We mean you no harm.”
She responds in that soft swirling language, his shadows writhe in answer, almost like they could understand her. She frowns at them as they travel across the ground towards her, a soft snarl from her lips has them skittering back. Interesting, the way she seems almost familiar with them, he wonders if she’d encountered fae like him before, maybe like Quinlann’s brother.
Rhys and Amren appear in that night kissed darkness, the female’s attention snapping towards them. Amren curiously examines the girl, that mark that still simmers faintly in her brow.
“Are you collecting more strays?”
Azriel doesn’t respond to the jab, watching as Amren takes the small silver bean from her pocket and throws it towards the female without warning. She catches it with ease, glancing between it and Amren with a raised brow.
“Eat,” Amren commands, miming the action, taping on her mouth as she speaks, “to understand.”
Her eyes find Azriel’s, brow quirked in confusion. He simply nods, mimicking Amren’s actions. She seems to understand that, as she lifts the translator to her mouth and swallows it down.
And just like that she erupts, not with that ice cold wind, but with fire, hotter and stronger than that of the heirs of Autumn. Maybe even hotter than Beron’s himself. A shield from Rhys traps the explosion of power though he winces from the effort of keeping her contained. The fire rages, the earth below her turning to ash in an instant. She burns so hot that the flame around her starts to turn blue. She burns and burns and burns, so bright Azriel shields his eyes, so hot that the shield around her can barely contain that heat.
Rhys does not remove the shield until that fire stops its raging, until all that’s left is smoke and ash. She had collapsed on the floor, her dagger red hot against her skin yet it doesn’t burn her hand. That mark burns brighter as she glares up at them, vibrant blue that lights up the world around them.
“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she snaps, her voice tinged with that soft accent of her language.
“Hard to do that when we don’t speak your tongue,” Amren snaps back. “Who are you?”
Her ice cold stare is unsettling as it examines them all. She stands from the ground, that red hot blade lifting towards them, the air warping from the heat.
“My name is Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” her voice is steady, regal, “Crown Princess of Terrasen. And I’d like to know which one of you opened the gate that dragged me here.”
#this is so self indulgent#but I don’t care at all#Azriel’s shadows are cute little busybodies and I love them#acotar x reader#acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#rowaelin daughter#rowaelin
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"Tamlin's daughter and Nyx...."
This type of people need to be studied.
Like he's mom had a history with him??? Did y'all forget or something???
Can you for one moment just picture the family gatherings 💀.
#please be serious#eyww#acotar#feyre#rhys#nyx#ic#nesta#elain#azriel#morr#amren#cassian#tamlin daughter#anti tamlin
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what do we think azzie's daughter's name is?
#im writing a request i recieved for dadriel and i need to name the kid#anon if you are seeing this please help me out#or anyone else please give me a name#orrrrr#i just got an idea#is hazel a good name for azriel's daughter?#azriel x reader#azriel fic
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Just so y’all know, Carissa Broadbent’s “Daughter of No Worlds” is gonna sate your craving for the Gwynriel book that has no release date in sight. Go on.
#Carissa broadbent#Gwynriel#gwyneth berdara#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#gwynriel supremacy#daughter of no worlds#war of lost hearts
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Cassian is such a girl dad it’s unbelievable.
#acotar#acomaf#cassian#azriel#nesta archeron#velaris#nessian daughter#acosf#Feyre Archeron#archeron sisters#Rhysand darling#morrigan#night court#court of dreams
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