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florencemtrash · 7 days

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Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips.

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears.

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was.

But that was his own fault.

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.”

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing.

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered.

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there.

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass.

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured.

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now.

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame.

No.

Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own.

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you.

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look.

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!”

“I have more just like them.”

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips.

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel.

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.”

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out.

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another.

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.”

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word.

“Yes… I know.”

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home.

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching.

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it.

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him.

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again.

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong.

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.”

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin.

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it.

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him.

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else.

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.”

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.”

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.”

“I like it when my clothes are loose.”

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth.

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!”

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door.

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing.

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others.

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now.

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward.

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics.

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome.

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!”

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered.

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go.

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace.

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?”

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!”

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care.

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!”

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face.

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating.

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled.

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave.

“Well?” You snapped.

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.”

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy. “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…”

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.”

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.”

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was.

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged.

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly.

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his.

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs.

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic.

But his hands.

His hands.

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste.

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree.

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt.

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt.

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more.

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving.

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…”

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.”

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel, it’s ok.”

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—”

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.”

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it.

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried.

He couldn’t help himself.

He started laughing too.

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support.

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled.

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.”

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere.

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily.

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones.

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.”

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.”

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away.

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted.

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone.

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in.

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt.

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath.

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.”

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening.

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore.

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this.

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears.

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms.

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.”

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.”

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions.

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.”

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself.

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst

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toodelusionalforreality · 17 days

Text

Rare

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: Azriel's reluctant night out with his family turns out to be more interesting than he expected.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I have newfound respect for writers who have mastered group dynamics in their writing.

Word count: ~5.6k

Warning: None [minimal editing/proofreading/formatting]

‘Two weeks,’ Mor whispered, trudging forward with her eyes set ahead in a daze. Her heels hit the cobbled path with soft clicks. ‘They’re closed for two weeks. What am I going to do?’

Feyre looped her arm through hers and guided her away from the closed doors of Rita’s. No one took the disappointment as hard as Mor did. Still, they each expressed varying degrees of frustration with their grunts and groans. Cassian cursed aloud for it was his idea to enjoy a night like good old times. And he enjoyed a night like good old times every two months. However, that night, the rest of the Inner Circle agreed to celebrate the few peaceful months they'd had in a while.

Except for one.

Azriel was grateful for his family’s reunion and their safety. Only he wanted to celebrate it in the quiet of their home. His family didn’t spare him the courtesy of protesting. Knowing him well, they sent the middle Archeron sister to plead their case. One look at her hesitant eyes and he couldn’t deny the soft-hearted woman. He had one regret for the night—to have not flown off when he sensed Elaine’s presence on the other side of his door.

When Rita disclosed their misfortune, Nesta pinned him with an accusatory glare as if his ill will had manifested into the burning down of their beloved retreat. She would have calmed if Azriel had stood there with his usual blank stare. Instead, he lifted a brow as a smirk tugged at his lips.

Cass grumbled, ‘At least pretend not to enjoy this so much, you ass,’ without even looking at his brother.

‘Two weeks!’ Mor shrieked, throwing her arms in the air as she reeled out of the initial shock. ‘How could she do this to me?’ Her blonde hair swayed behind her with every shake of her head.

Rhys walked on her other side. Besides Azriel, he was the only one unbothered by the ruin of their plans. ‘I’m sure the fire in her kitchen had barely anything to do with punishing you.’ His taunting tone was the only sign of his apathy for his cousin’s plight.

Elaine’s voice perked up as Mor opened her mouth. ‘We could go somewhere else,’ she inched away with each word as if she expected another outburst. ‘It’s not that late.’

And that’s how Azriel came to hate the woman for the night.

He wasn’t cruel. He loved his family, and he agreed they deserved a break, but it wasn’t something he would sacrifice his peace for. He was ready with his own proposition—go back home, get drunk on faerie wine, and maybe some mirthroot if they resisted too much. His family would've had their merriment, and he’d have had his serenity.

As they stumbled and meandered through the streets, stopping at one place and the next, vetting out each other’s suggestions, Azriel found himself enjoying the moment—listening to his family’s usual banter, the comfort of familiarity built over centuries, and fussing over triviality instead of wars and courts. If his family chose to spend the entire night on the streets, he would gladly trade his peace for that.

Before he even finished the thought, his family arrived at their destination. The last on their list. Another bar. Or at least what it said on the polished plaque that hung above the rusty door frame.

Cass spoke first, ‘This is it?’ His words echoed the thought they all had in their minds.

Beyond the worn-out door held in place by a brick wedged between it and the doorframe was a harshly lit long room. Even the open door and cool breeze of the summer night couldn’t mask the stench of stuffiness from the dingy hole in the wall. Light flickered warning anyone dared contemplate entering the horrid place. Too narrow to hold any table or chair, there stood a single desk opposite the entrance. Two shelves nailed behind it sloped, the bottles stacked atop them slowly making their way to the edge. A place like that at the centre of Velaris was a swamp surrounded by beauty and life.

A woman rotten with age sat behind the table. Her hands jittered with each click of the needles held between her sharp, black claws. Her crooked nose curving past her thin lips and her non-existent ears were the only indications of her faerie blood other than her savage nails. Azriel couldn’t remember the last time he saw a creature that looked so old and fragile, yet with malice in her being, a kind of cruelty that lurked in her bones.

Despite what he witnessed, none of it deterred him that night. His body shook with silent laughter. All that wasted trip, endless stops to pick at the tiniest flaws only for his family to end up there.

Mother loved him. The complete disbelief on their faces was worth everything Azriel suffered since he opened his door to Elaine that night. Even his shadows seemed to enjoy the irony of their situation, skittering around his shoulders.

Mor turned to him sharply, her eyes alight with fire. ‘As long as there’s wine, this will do,’ she gritted her teeth.

Pushing his friend, whose only purpose in life was proving a point, was the last thing Azriel wanted to do. Yet it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass. How far would his family go? What would it take to break them? Would they give in and chuck down whatever wretched brew the suspicious creature offered? He merely bowed his head and waved at the door.

Mor swallowed her squeak of disgust as she crossed the threshold. Her eyes ran over the assortment of bottles on the shelves—three filled to the brim with pale green liquid, two half-filled with something that looked awfully like rotten blood, of what Azriel didn’t care to find out.

‘Do you suppose,’ she brought her eyes back to the woman, ‘you have any wine?’

The needles went silent for a beat, ‘Take your pick,’ and resumed. Not once did the creature glance at them as she jerked her chin to the shelf above her head.

With the seven of them now inside, the air turned hot and suffocating. Nesta pushed past to the front, standing next to Mor. ‘This is Pharus, isn’t it? The bar?’

Finally, the faerie looked up. Her eyes roved over their faces, their bodies, the detailing of threads on their clothes finer than the ones she held in her hands. ‘Of course,’ she snarled, ‘why else would you be here?’ Her lazy eyes rolled creepily in their sockets to stop at the door beside the shelf. ‘Over there,’ she said and went back to her hideous patchwork of browns and blues and pinks.

In the silence, a steady thrum of beats crept along the floor. A soft murmur lured them to trust the creature’s words and enter the unknown that awaited them behind the burnished wood, a portal out of the creature’s lair.

Mor stepped up to the door, her eyes on the glass doorknob—hypnotised, curious, so bright. As her fingers brushed against it, the faerie cleared her throat. ‘There’s a price for it,’ she added with a sly smile on her lips, a little thing that didn’t belong in her sagging face.

Azriel fished into his pockets while his family stared between the door and its guardian. His curiosity ebbed and grew to a point of no return. He had to find whatever called to him, whatever called to them. He dropped a gold on the table. It clattered on the wood, its ring echoing for a breath too long.

The faerie stared at it and then at him, and then his family, studying each of their faces. Her claws left scratches on the wood as she grasped the coin in her palm. She sniffed it, her eyes widening.

The door didn’t make a sound under Mor’s hand. One by one, they entered, and Azriel let the door close behind him. Their heels clicked on the polished wooden floor.

Every plush leather chair, strategically arranged table, and carefully curated decorations contributed to the elegance of the room. Soothing warmth enveloped them even on the summer night in a comforting embrace. The fragrance of spices cut through the musk of the wooden furniture. Golden orbs hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow across the space enough to enable their fae sight, but none too harsh like Rita’s.

A band sat on a raised podium at the far end, playing music that complimented their ambience. In the middle stood the majestic bar, a stretch of counter that ran along almost the entire length of the room. Bottles filled with various shades of liquor sat on the shelves behind—each of them, artistically planned and placed. Lights reflected off decanters and glasses set on trays, adding a bit of colour to the brown and gold theme of the room.

Faerie—high and lesser—took the seats without sparing each other a glance of discrimination. There was no stench of tension in the air, only a fragile calmness. Two servers shifted around the room speaking softly with polite smiles on their lips. A female tended to the bar, her hands worked with mesmerising precision. Despite the overflowing liquor, there wasn’t any loud cry, laughter, or chatter.

Luxury and safety were the words that came to Azriel’s mind. His shadows shaded his shoulders, falling quiet as they studied their new territory.

One of the servers led them to the only table large enough to fit them—close to the band, a bench along the wall on one side, and chairs on the other.

Once they settled, he spoke with a rehearsed tone, ‘I’m guessing you’re new here.’ The hitch in his breath told them he knew exactly who they were, and yet his smile remained. ‘We have two rules. One, we ensure the night’s peaceful here as much as possible. So, we don’t appreciate harassment of any kind, and I’d advise you to stay out of trouble. Two, if our barkeep cuts you off for whatever reason, you leave.’ His shoulders relaxed as if it were the most hated part of his job, and his smile turned more genuine. ‘Other than that, you do whatever you want. What would you like to drink?’

‘I’ll have faerie wine,’ Mor waited for no one, ‘Any wine. Don’t care how many.’ Her thigh pushed against Azriel’s as she shifted to a comfortable position on the bench, her warmth seeping past his leathers. A swift nod from everyone else had the server scrambling back to the bar.

Nesta inspected the surrounding faces. ‘What kind of moron expects drunks to follow rules?’

‘The one who doesn’t want to be held responsible for whatever happens when they are broken.’ Nesta’s eyes snapped to Azriel’s, and he shrugged.

Elaine looked between their faces, expecting the inevitable. But the Inner Circle indulged in spying on their night’s getaway. ‘Are we really ignoring what we saw outside?’

‘Oh,’ the server peered down at them as he set a tray with two wine bottles and glasses with a grace unexpected of his thick, manly fingers. ‘That hag is harmless. She just wastes her day knitting. If she bothered you, it’s because you’re new. Easy prey, you know? The regulars are used to her by now.’

Feyre reached for the glass offered to her. ‘Who is she?’

The server didn’t care to meet their eyes, but his words were eager. ‘She came with the building. This used to be her home. The old owner, her son, wanted to sell this bar. He found a better place for his family. But she didn’t want to move. Night and day they fought so much that people were afraid to even walk the street. Anyway, the son couldn’t resist our offer and sold it, and she—,’ he clicked his tongue, ‘she refused to leave with him. And N didn’t want to leave her homeless.’

Azriel didn’t particularly enjoy the conversation as much as his family did. It mattered very little to the server, whose words tumbled out in a single breath. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time he was telling the story to his customers. He would make a terrible spy, Azriel thought. Maybe a decent source.

'N?’

'She owns the place now. She gave the hag that hall. That’s where she and her husband lived before her son built a bar here.’ He sighed. His eyes swept over the rest of the room once he placed a filled glass in front of each of them. ‘It’s not good for business with a front like that. She scares everyone away. But N insisted, and we renovated around it. Most customers don’t even set foot inside after the first time. Some take pity and give her a few coppers. Not that she needs them though. N takes care of all her needs.’

He turned to them with a wide smile, with a server’s politeness. ‘Anyway, enjoy!’ He turned to leave and paused. ‘You didn’t give her anything, did you?’

Every pair of eyes at the table fixated on Azriel. He blinked, ‘A gold.’

‘You better stay away from her the next time.’ The server walked away laughing.

In his long life, and also as a spy, Azriel had met enough faeries ranging from the vilest to the kindest. Nothing fazed him anymore. Though it would have made quite a story on any other day, his focus remained on his family. He would rather figure out a way to coax his friends to leave early than uncover more about a hag and her benefactor. After a long night of searching for a bar which offered wine sweeter than Rita’s, he knew it would be almost impossible.

At her sister’s request, Feyre led Elaine closer to the band, both nursing their drinks in their hands. Loose chairs littered the open space in front of the dais, where they took a seat among other patrons. The musicians nodded at them with a smile.

Cass slammed his glass on the table. ‘I don’t like this place,’ he grumbled, looking at the well-behaved mob, ‘Where’s the fun here? This is not how a bar is supposed to be.’

‘Why? Is this place too classy for a brute like you?’ Nesta smirked, sipping her drink as she surveyed the place. She fitted right in.

Years of sneaking and spying had ingrained the instincts in Azriel’s very bones, impossible to separate who he was and what he did for his family, for his court. His hazel eyes didn’t miss a thing. His shadows stayed close and whispered in his ears. Careful, calculating.

Between the bar and the band stood two doors—one the servers often drifted in and out of with trays in their hands, a kitchen; and the other too pristine to be a back door or entrance to a storage room. An office, maybe. No one entered or exited it since his family took their seats across it.

His brother was wrong. The patrons enjoyed their time, but not the way people did in Rita’s. Like his family, they bundled together and shared a drink and a laugh with their loved ones. Their glazed eyes and flushed faces proved they indulged in the drinks as much as Cass did. A few cleared the space in front of the band, shifting the chairs around and waltzing to the music. A sense of belonging lingered in the air, unlike the mindless chaos that stained Rita’s.

As warned, the bartender declined drinks to a few. Even the ones who posed the most threat to start a fight walked away without resistance. Not one sound of protest or trouble followed.

Elaine and Feyre returned when the band paused to start their next song. As Elaine settled into the seat across from him, she gave the widest smile to Azriel. He smiled back. Rhys filled Feyre’s glass and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Cass and Mor still disagreed with Nesta on the essence of the true bar experience. Rhys took Nesta’s side only to watch his brother seethe with anger. With the remaining sisters returned to the table, it became clear Cass and Mor were losing the battle.

To add salt to their burn, Azriel trailed a finger along the rim of his glass and smirked. ‘I like this place too.’

‘You weren’t on board all night and now you have an opinion?’ Cass waved a hand of dismissal but his eyes burned with betrayal, ‘Go back to your brooding.’ Azriel grinned.

Laughing and stumbling, Mor headed to the bar. The bartender blushed so red that it wasn’t a mystery what she was up to. Minutes later, she returned with a bottle of amber liquor and a glass of a blue-green drink.

Bottles were emptied, banter was shared, and laughs grew contagious. Even though it was harmless, raucous laughter, they attracted the wary eyes of the server. Azriel knew where they were headed.

He slid Rhys’s glass of whiskey out of his grasp, who turned to him with an arched brow. He mumbled with a sigh, ‘We’d need more than one ride tonight.’

Rhys didn’t argue. He limited his drinks as much as Azriel that night for the sake of his mate. Ever since Feyre, his brother’s usual recklessness waned. He became more attentive and considerate in ways he had never shown before.

Both his brothers were equally troublesome. Cass with his wildness and brutality, and Rhys with his cunning and sly. And yet, after finding their mates, they were still all that and a bit more, someone better in every sense.

Azriel looked at Mor pressed to his side, drunk and smiling. The woman he once loved. And then, Elaine, the woman he wondered to be his mate.

Even with the passage of time and endless disappointments, his heart refused to let go of hope—such a fickle thing for an immortal life. An everlasting pain that turned the kindest of souls into a force of cruelty—worse than love, worse than torture, worse than death.

To have heard of and believed in a spiritual bond with another was one thing, but to see it with his own eyes and not long for it was not something even a damned soul like him could resist.

Who wouldn’t want something so precious divined by Mother herself, to be blessed by her, to be born fortunate to have a mate in their lifetime and find them?

Azriel knew love, he’d felt it. But how was it any different from a mating bond? Would a love be enough to save his wretched heart from himself? Could a love be as profound and sacred as a mating?

He looked at the happy faces of his family. Four of the seven—mated and in love. One with her supposed mate.

Rare of the rarest.

And there he was. An ordinary rock amongst gems. One Mother didn’t deem worthy enough. Maybe she was right. What was he, after all, but an unlucky bastard? What would it take for Azriel to be one of them? Shadowsinger. Warrior. Servant. Brother. Friend. Survivor. Tortured. Abused. Broken. What more did he need to be to appease the Mother to bless him with one miracle?

What would make him one of the deserving?

He took the glass he snatched from his brother and downed the drink in one gulp. The liquor burned his throat, a good burn, almost as good as the one his hands endured a long, long time ago.

Rhys turned to him with a blank stare. Azriel checked his mental wards and averted his eyes. It was pathetic enough to long for something that he couldn’t have. He refused to warrant pity from his brothers as well.

His family was together and happy. He breathed in the sweet aroma of the blue-green liquor Mor swirled in her glass.

It was a good night.

As he drank a little more, his shadows ventured out weaving through tables and shuffling feet. Azriel allowed it for a while before he reined them back. But they never answered when they returned, only dancing around his shoulders.

Moments later, they tried again, crawling down his back. The tug and pull of control slipped out of his hands as if an invisible force stripped them off him. A gentle caress over his shoulders, coaxing him, easing him to let go. And his shadows were willing to follow this force, betraying their loyalty to him. Azriel didn’t touch his drink after that.

As expected, the server approached their table and looked at him, the only one sober enough to be reasonable. ‘We won’t cause any trouble,’ said Azriel before he could speak.

His shadows swayed around the back of his neck and leaned to peer beyond the male in their path. They stood still, unmoving, watching, and then crashed into his shoulder, turning into a dark mist.

The server watched them wide-eyed. He shook his head and glanced behind him at the once-closed door, now open. ‘Maybe they could get something mild. Don't let N see them like this.’ With those words, he stalked back to the bar.

The room in front of him lacked the soft ambience of the bar with its golden lights and cosy furniture. A desk with a chair occupied the small space, giving a partial view of the bar outside. A woman bounded down the stairs that ran up from behind the door. She headed to the bar, exchanged a few words with the bartender, and went back inside the room. The servers paused by the door to greet her before they moved on.

To own a bar for high fae and lesser faeries alike, to have her workers and customers fear her, N was laughably docile. Azriel had spent long enough around women of strength and courage to never judge one by looks, but he couldn’t help it.

In her simple dark pants that flared at the hem and grey-white shirt, N was underdressed than her workers. She was as tall as Feyre, maybe a few inches taller. Her face held a hint of innocence, not close to Elaine’s, but something about her convinced she was harmless. Unless she had a sharp tongue like Nesta or had someone like Mor or Amren to do her bidding, it was unlikely she managed to keep her patrons in line by herself.

‘Azriel,’ called Mor from beside him. Her eyes were unexpectedly fierce after all the wine she had. ‘You’re drinking, right?’ She waved the empty glass in her hand.

He knew he should’ve said no. He glanced at the server across the room, but Nesta and Mor had already left for the bar. His attention drifted to the three drunk males who stood too close to a young fae trying to get away from them. She inched closer and closer to Mor who whispered into Nesta’s ear making her laugh. The shadows on his shoulders grew restless, creeping up and down his arms. He should have offered to get the drinks himself.

Cass was in the middle of narrating an elaborate plot of his fights in Illyrian war camps from their childhood days to Elaine as she leaned over the table with enthralled horror in her eyes. Rhys smiled smugly at his exaggerations while Feyre looked over at the bar, thinking the same as Azriel.

The crude comments of the three males circling the fae made the bartender stare between them with nervous eyes. The air silenced around them, nothing but their obnoxious laughter echoed. The smile on Nesta’s lips vanished, and Mor noticed. His friends at the table paused their conversation.

‘Come now,’ one of the male carried on, ‘don’t be like that.’

N looked up from the paper in her hand. She stared ahead at the wall where the male would have stood if it hadn’t been in her way. Dropping the papers onto the table, she reached inside a drawer. She stepped out of the room, cradling a leather bracelet to her right wrist, pulling its straps taut against her skin.

The bartender breathed in relief as N eased next to her and took a step back. N gathered her hair, securing it at the nape of her neck as the bartender whispered in her ear. Chunks of hair slipped free and framed her face. Her eyes swept across the bar, took in the faces seated before her, deliberately shifting over the three males. She stood in front of them, mixing drinks with precision and expertise on par with the bartender. She didn't lift her eyes up again.

The male moved close to the fae who immediately backed away. ‘Come on, love. It’s free drink. You should be grateful.’ He spoke into her ear but loud enough to be heard across the room.

A minute longer, and Nesta would have ripped that fool’s tongue with a shard of her broken glass. Azriel had seen enough bar fights—started a few and ended too many—to know when one loomed around the corner.

N’s eyes darted to the man’s hand reaching for the fae and then his face for a second while her body gave no sign of her attention on anything but the tumbler in her hand. A smirk tugged at Azriel's lips.

Maybe it was a bad idea to let Mor and Nesta murder a few males in a bar they had never visited before. Maybe it was a bad idea not to interfere with their authority which usually saved time with vermin like the male. Or maybe it was a bad idea to let the situation escalate, putting the fae in danger only to see N’s reaction.

But Azriel was not above making bad decisions to quell his curiosity. He leaned back and brought his glass to his lips.

‘She’s not interested,’ said N in a voice so soft and smooth. With her eyes on the pink liquor she poured into a tall glass, she added, ‘And she has a drink.’ Her eyes met the fae's, gentle yet firm. She pushed the glass with her index finger. The fae heaved a sigh of relief and reached for it.

The male turned his attention to N with a wicked smile. ‘The coins are to shut your mouth, pretty.’ He ran his vile eyes over her and winked. ‘I’ll come back for you later.’ With a bone-grating chuckle, he returned to the fae who backed towards the tables. He blocked her path with his hand, ‘So, what do you say?’

Oh, how Azriel wanted to tear every tooth from his jaws.

N finally looked at him. Her eyes were calm and intense, a reassured stillness in them. She straightened and placed her hands on the counter. And it was enough to shift the air around them. The woman who commanded respect from her patrons was in the room instead of the quiet, lingering spirit that drifted in and out moments earlier. The band slowed their music, and the ones who refused to look at the ruckus dared to glance their way.

‘I’m going to ask you to leave.’

The male let out a grunt, mean and vulgar. ‘Shut up, you bitch.’ A grimace of impatience replaced his smile. He hissed at the fae, ‘You’re starting to make me angry.’

His eyes widened as a hand grabbed the back of his hand and shoved it face-first onto the wood of the counter. His arms flailed miserably to stop the impact, only to fail. The following crunch made the fae flinch away.

N let go and walked around the bar, her steps calculated and leisured. Her dainty fingers slipped through two gold rings attached to the inside of the bracelet. ‘You okay?’ she asked the fae softly as she pulled the fingers away, two cords of metal unwinding between the rings and the leather. Once she got a frantic nod from the fae, she diverted her focus to the crying male who swiped at his face and stared at his bloodied hands.

Cass snorted. His drink sprayed through his nose, drenching himself and poor Elaine. Rhys’s eyes gleamed with amusement. Feyre looked between N, Nesta and Mor.

The male screeched to no one in particular, ‘That bitch hit me.’ His nose flared and spurts of blood leaked soaking his shirt. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he lunged forward.

N sauntered ahead with lazy steps and swerved when his fist came close. Her left hand went around his head once. The male stumbled forward by the wasted force of his body and his neck caught in the cords.

N pulled her hands back to her sides, the cords went taut, and the male fell to his knees. His bloodied fingers pried at the noose around his neck. His breaths grew shallow and raspy. Blood sprinkled from his nose with each strain of his chest. His pained cries echoed in the quiet. Not even his friends attempted to help him.

‘Whining on the floor,’ N curved her wrist around his head again, watching his eyes grow wider, ‘Leash on your neck. You sure you aren’t the bitch?’ She looked down at him with void eyes as her fingers clawed his jaw open.

Her other hand reached for a bottle on the counter, her eyes never leaving his. She tipped the bottle close to his mouth and his breath left his chest in a painful heave. ‘It’s free drink, love.’ Her voice was a lover’s purr, low and soft. As the liquor filled his mouth and streamed down his shirt mixed with the red of his blood, she gritted her teeth, ‘Be grateful.’ The first emotion she showed.

It was inappropriate.

Utterly inappropriate.

A deep chuckle ripped from Azriel’s throat, loud enough to warrant the glances from his family and the ones beside their table.

When the male choked and his eyes blurred, N stopped. Her fingers released him and slipped out of the rings with a simple flick. The rings whipped spraying drops of amber-red in the air before it latched onto the bracelet again, the cords disappearing between the black of the leather. She turned to his friends, ‘Don’t come back.’

They nodded, their eyes wide, and began to back away. The cries of their friend brought them out of their stupor and they carried him out with his blood staining the once perfect floor.

N blinked.

Once they were out the door, she went back behind the counter, and time resumed. The band began their music again. Servers shuffled to clean the floors and check on the fae. The bartender wiped at the splotches of blood on the counter with a rag.

N cleaned her hands and continued with her other orders. As she offered drinks to the ones still waiting at the bar, she smiled. Azriel set his glass down.

When she reached Mor and Nesta, she studied their faces and uttered a few words. Mor pointed at their table with a grin, her eyes sparkling under the light swaying over her head.

N spared each of them a glance. Her eyes paused at Cass and his wings, Azriel and his wings, and finally Rhys and behind him where his wings should have been. The shadows didn’t appreciate the scrutiny. They went erratic around his shoulders and for a moment her eyes returned to the shadowsinger again.

‘She’s judging us,’ Rhys muttered through his grin. The amusement in his eyes flickered and N held his gaze. ‘Rather harshly,’ he chuckled.

Feyre frowned at him. ‘Stop it!’

Rhys’s smile fell from his lips. He hummed, staring at N for a beat too long before he turned to his mate. ‘It’s not my fault. Her mind called to me,’ he kissed her cheek.

Azriel wanted to ask what his brother meant, but knew better. His shadows quietened around him, still as midnight air, draping over his shoulders with their ghostly weight. They didn’t sing to him much that night.

Mor and Nesta returned with a tray of drinks. N wrapped an arm around the bartender and whispered in her ear. Her eyes were soft and her lips still held a smile. The bartender relaxed and sighed. Azriel wondered if there was more between the two. N rushed out of her room at the first sign of trouble and took charge of every responsibility while the bartender stayed safe and recovered.

‘I like this place!’ Mor exclaimed as she slumped next to him and handed him a glass after taking one for herself.

Cass only cursed under his breath. ‘Because she gave you free booze?’ He stole a drink for himself, ‘But that show was fun.’

‘So was yours,’ Nesta laughed and pointed at his soaked front.

N accepted a sealed plate from the server with a smile and headed to her office. Her fingers paused at the doorknob. She looked down at her shirt. Crimson spotted along her torso below her ribs. She ran her fingers over them once, slowly. She blinked and wiped again at the dried stain. And again. Then she closed the door.

Once the glasses were emptied, Mor hated the place again. The drinks N offered sobered them completely. Grumbling and muttering their disapproval at the trickery and betrayal, Mor and Cass walked out of the bar with the others trailing behind them.

Azriel sneaked a glance at the locked door smiling before he joined his family. It was indeed a good night.

Next chapter: Sanctuary

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azrielsdove · 6 months

Text

Love and Loss: Ch. 2

Warnings: Angst, Su*cidal Thoughts ?, More Angst

Ch.1 | Ch.3

***

You sunk farther into the bath, allowing the hot water to cover your head. It was quiet under the water, peaceful. Your mind was blank, numb. You wished you felt anger, sadness, heartbreak, anything. Yet there was nothing there. Just a lonely, silent, emptiness.

You pushed back above the water, drinking in deep gulps of air. You liked to stay down until your lungs were burning, the pain breaking up the numbness. You stared across the water of your bath, watching the ripples extending from you. You may stay in here all day, reheating the water as needed. It was better than being out there.

Rhysand wouldn’t talk to you. He wouldn’t even look at you. Mor had taken him away to his room after his world shattering confession. You remained on your knees in the spot he was, your hands still out like they were holding his. Even Amren was shocked into silence, for once not having anything to say. The quiet in that room had felt like it was crushing you, convincing you that you were dying.

Azriel ended up breaking the frozen fear surrounding everyone, kneeling down next to you and grabbing your hands in his. You had looked at him, eyes wide in shock, no words coming to mind. He had simply nodded, pulling you up with him. He took you away from the townhouse that night, flying you up to his room at the House of Wind. He wasn’t sure you wanted to be in the one you shared with Rhys.

He placed you into his bed, carefully wrapping the covers around you. You knew he sat in a chair by the bed the whole night, watching over you. You didn’t sleep a single second, staring off into the darkness instead. When morning came Azriel tried to talk to you, finding you unwilling to move or speak. You were a shell, an empty being of who you once were. Az was patient, helping you out of bed, feeding you, forcing you to bathe. You moved at his will, never arguing. Truthfully, that only made it worse.

It had been weeks since Rhys came back from Under the Mountain, and you hadn’t spoken a word. You knew the cursebreaker he called his mate, Feyre, was engaged to the High Lord of the Spring Court. You also knew how much pain and sorrow that brought him. He was hurting, heart broken for a female he barely knew while his wife wasted away into nothingness beside him.

You pushed your head back under the water, considering the idea of not coming back up this time. How nice it is, floating under the water. Much nicer than watching your husband of 150 years pretend you never existed. You closed your eyes, tilting your head farther back in the water. Your lungs screamed for air, the only reminder that you were still alive. You felt calm, at peace.

You heard a sudden muffled shout from above the water and two strong arms were coming down, ripping your body out of the bubble you had created. You gasped and coughed as your lungs took in the air they so desperately needed, a voice much too loud in your ear.

“What are you thinking?! What are you doing?! Can I not even trust you to bathe alone anymore?!” The voice was frantic, angry. A warm towel was wrapped around your body, hands cupping your face. You were forced to look up at Azriel, panic all over his face. “Talk to me!” He shouted, hands tightening on your face.

You just stared at him.

He sighed in desperation, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. “Please. You can’t live like this. I need you to come back.” He whispered, the plea you had heard from him so many times recently. You wished you could, you wished you could break out of the nothingness in your heart. You wanted to come back stronger, fight for your husband, show him what he was losing.

But you couldn’t.

Azriel pulled away, picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He grabbed some of your clothes, dressing you as gingerly as he could. He braided your hair back, having taken the time to learn to make sure you would be as comfortable as possible. Always your greatest friend, Az was. He gave you a tea to drink, you dutifully finishing the cup in front of him. You did everything he asked, trying to hold on to some sort of routine. You didn’t notice the signs of exhaustion on Azriel’s face as he tucked you in, setting you up to sleep. You didn’t notice the tears that slid down his face once you closed your eyes, your breathing steadying off as rest overtook you. You especially didn’t hear the whispered “I love you,” as he pressed a kiss to your head.

***

Azriel POV

He couldn’t take it anymore. He understood that the mating bond could destroy someone, and he understood Rhysand was struggling. What he didn’t understand was how he allowed his wife to become this horrible empty shadow of herself. How could he not bring himself to care? Why was Azriel the only one taking care of her, everyone else tending to the poor, sad, High Lord?

He burst into the study, Rhys hunched over the maps on his desk. He looked up to see his friend walking in, giving him a smile. A smile. The bastard could smile, fake or not, and his wife was dying of heartbreak down the hall. Rhys caught on to the rage expelling from Azriel quickly, standing to face him. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Brother?” He quipped, testing if this anger was at him or not.

It was.

Azriel couldn’t help the slight shake to his voice when he spoke. “She is fading, Rhys. I am doing what I can to keep her body alive, but her mind is going.” His shadows were swirling over him and the High Lord, agitated. “Do you know where I just found her?” He shot at the unmoving male in front of him.

Rhys scoffed. “Surely I don’t know.” His no-care attitude about the whole situation pissed Azriel off even further. How can he act like it’s her fault the Cauldron mated him to someone else? Why is he punishing her for something outside of anyone’s control?

“She was under the water in her bath. Rhys, if I had gotten there seconds later I would be here to tell you to plan a funeral.” Azriel saw the flash of pain in Rhysands eyes, a small hope that he hadn’t completely abandoned her. Az latched on to this, stepping closer to the other male. “She hasn’t spoken. She doesn’t fight, she doesn’t argue anything. She takes everything that happens, no reaction.” He sighed, shadows calming down around him. “You need to talk to her.”

“No.” Rhys said, turning back to his desk. The anger rose back up in Azriel, How did he not care?!

“Why not?” He demanded, refusing to leave this study until he found anything that may help her.

“I don’t want to see her.”

“What did she do to you? What did she do wrong? Why are making her suffer?!” Azriel yelled, temper rising higher.

Rhys whipped around, dark power swirling around him. “She did nothing,” he snarled, “she is perfect. That is the problem. How do I look at my wife of 150 years and tell her I can’t be with her anymore?”

Azriel stepped back, stunned. “Feyre is set to marry someone else. You would throw away all those decades of marriage for a female who isn’t even yours?” His words were deathly quiet, bringing the thoughts out that Rhys was trying to hide.

A terrible silence swallowed the room, Rhys sinking back into his office chair. He buried his face in his hands, all the power from a second ago gone. He looked worn down, half of who he used to be. Azriel couldn’t help the pang of regret in his heart from yelling at him.

“I don’t know how to approach her. So much happened Under the Mountain, and I don’t want her to no longer want me due to it.” He looked up to Azriel with shining eyes. “How am I supposed to explain all the terrible things I did?”

Azriel stepped closer to his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She never stopped loving you, Rhys. She’s hopelessly devoted to you, willing to be by your side through anything. She can handle it.” He said comfortingly. Rhys nodded and looked back at the ground.

“I will talk to her tomorrow.”

***

Reader POV

You woke up, waiting patiently for whatever breakfast Azriel had for you today. You were a little surprised that he wasn’t already by your side when you woke, but you knew he had a life outside of caring for you. A knock at the door had you looking over, sliding under the covers to walk over and open it.

Your heart stopped as you looked into the eyes of your husband. “Hi,” he said softly. You stood there unmoving, staring at him. For the first time in 50 years he was back in front of you, talking to you. “I, uh, have a lot to apologize for.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Walk with me?” He held his hand out, waiting for you.

You paused for a second before complying and placing your hand in his. He held on tight, like you were his lifeline and he was dying. You walked next to him as he took you through the halls of the house, heading towards your favorite balcony. The two of you had spent many nights out here, gazing at the stars and being in love.

Things were so different now.

He pulled you outside, closing the double glass doors behind you. You looked down at the blanket he had spread on the ground, your favorite meal on top of it. Your eyes found Rhys’ again, a sheepish smile on his face. “I wanted to cheer you up.” The smile fell, regret taking its place. “I never should have allowed you to hurt for so long.” You felt a stir of emotion in your chest at the distraught look on his face. Your hands found his, giving them a gentle squeeze. You pulled him to sit next to you on the blanket, reaching down to taste the meal he prepared.

You gave a soft hum at the delicious taste on your tongue, feeling a little more whole with Rhys at your side. He was watching you, taking in your appearance. It had been so long since he had been able to study you in more than old memories. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered, waiting for a response. You looked at him for a long moment, taking in the male who was your everything.

“I missed you too,” you said back, voice extremely hoarse. Rhys looked caught between a smile and breaking down into tears. You moved closer to him, holding his hands in yours. He looked down at your joined hands before pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you.

And he cried.

He cried and cried, holding you like he would never let you go again. “I am not who I used to be,” he sobbed into your neck, “I did terrible things down there.” He pulled back and looked at you, your hands coming to cup his face. “I did so much bad down there, just to come home and continue doing it to you.” His voice was small, broken.

“It is okay, my love.” You whispered, wiping his tears away. “I am still here.”

“Barely!” Rhys shot out, arms tightening around you. “Az told me how he found you, in the tub. I was letting you suffer, all for someone the cauldron said I was fated to.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what the cauldron says. You are the only one for me.”

Your heart grew, feeling beginning to flood through you. The love you you had so desperately missed brining you back to life. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you always Rhys.” You felt him smile against you, holding you closer and kissing you again.

The two of you stayed out there for hours, kissing and sharing sweet words. You felt the broken pieces of you coming back together, healed by the love pouring from your husband. You knew you could help each other recover from what had happened, that everything would be okay as long as you were together.

***

Here’s chapter 2!! please let me know what you think so far <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #rhysand #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #azriel x y/n #love and loss

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everythingacotarbxm1012 · 22 days

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They Mates - with Y/N Pt 4

Summary - Hybern’s a problem (but when is he not) and this whole Cauldron situation, out. Of. Hand. Based on Ch 19 of ACOMAF

Notes/Other Warnings - Vulgar gestures, language, my grammar. As always lines/plot points directly or heavily inspired by the series itself. 1.4k words. 2nd pov again for a more intimate look into Y/N and Az’s relationship.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You stood with Azriel near the window in the sitting room of the townhouse. It was snowing lightly outside, dusting the outside world. Cassian lounged near the fire, next to Mor. He felt tense, like an animal waiting to jump out of its cage after spending too much time cooped up. Amren was not present—where she was, you did not know. You all were waiting for your High Lord and Feyre to return from their trip to the Bone Carver for information.

As you watched the snow build up outside your mind wandered back to earlier that morning. Nearly five-hundred years Azriel had been your mate, and still every morning was utter bliss. You could still feel his teeth scraping lightly across the shell of your ear and his lips trailing—

“Amren’s right,” Rhysand said.

You snapped out of your thoughts to see him standing in the threshold. Feyre stood next to him.

“You are like dogs, waiting for me to return home. I ought to buy treats for the lot of you,” Rhys continued.

Cassian flipped him off, the tension in his system still evident. You stepped forward to smack Cassian’s shoulder. The general gave you a withering look. The High Lord of Night narrowed his eyes at the pair of you. You stepped back as Feyre, who looked chilled headed for the armchair near the hearth. You returned to your spot next to your mate who stood in contemplation, a constant for him.

“How’d it go,” Mor asked to quickly glance between Feyre and Rhys, who had finally stepped into the room.

“The Bone Carver,” Rhys said with a sigh, “has too much time on his hands considering how often he likes to pry into others people’s business.”

You reached for Azriel’s hand, unsure of what to do in the moment. Your mate didn’t protest, his shadows swirling around your wrist for a few moments. You could see Feyre’s eyes dart to the sight. The mortal said nothing.

Cassian broke through the silence, his hands falling to brace his knees. “But…?”

“But, the busybody can be useful, when he chooses,” Rhys replied with another sigh. “He informed us that the Cauldron was originally hidden at the bottom of the frozen lake in Lapplund, but vanished a while ago. But three of the feet on which the Cauldron used to stand were cleaved from it, in an attempt for power. Each foot was hidden in a different temple.”

You didn’t exactly need Rhys to spell out the rest for you. People were after the Cauldron, after its power again. “Shit,” you murmured. Cassian, to your surprise said nothing, only sat up a bit straighter.

“Cesere, Sangravah, and Itica,” the high lord listed out. “The King of Hybern seeks to return the Cauldron to its full glory.”

It was a suspicion most everyone in the room had. You could sense the grimness of it all, the way the room shifted even though most were expecting it. You glanced to Mor who looked back at you, giving a well this isn’t good look.

“The mortal queens have one part of the Book, Tarquin the other,” Rhys finished.

You sucked in a breath before Azriel stepped forward, his shadows lightening from around his form. “I will contact my sources in the Summer Court about the other half of the Book of Breathings on where it is hidden. I can aldo fly to the human world. See if I can locate their half before we ask them for it.”

The High Lord of Night shook his head. “I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, Azriel. Not anyone outside this room, except for Amren.”

“They can be trusted, Rhysand,” you defend as Azriel’s shadows grew thicker for a moment before lightening up. Az let go of your hand, fists curling slightly, staring at his high lord. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I, we, are not taking risks where the Cauldron or the Book is concerned,” Rhys responded calmly. Rhys returned his spymaster’s stare.

You reached for your mate’s hand, and his fingers slowly uncurled, eyes drifting away from Rhysand’s face and back to your own. You gently intertwined your fingers with his.

“So what do you have planned,” Mor asked.

“Well,” Rhys responded as he picked at absolutely nothing on his leathers. A habit you had noticed he got when growing up. “The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples for a piece of the Cauldron, which, as far as I am concerned, is an act of war.”

“Of course he wants war,” You interjected more strongly than you had anticipated. “For the Mother’s sake we were an ally to the humans during…the War. He would never dare sway you at risk of revealing his plans.”

Cassian nodded in agreement before adding, “Amarantha’s cronies likely reported to him Under the Mountain.”

“Hybern and his forces successfully infiltrated our lands, without detection. I have every intention of returning the favor.” Your high lord straightened himself up slightly.

“How?” Mor asked, before you could.

“We go to Hybern to bring the Cauldron back or go to nullify it.”

You thought you might just laugh at that. “Hybern would already have countless wards to protect it.”

You could feel Az’s thumb over the back of your hand, gently rubbing as if to try and ease some of the tension from your body. “Y/N’s right. We would need to find a way to get through them, undetected,” your mate added.

“Then we start, now while we hunt down the Book. We do it swiftly, so by the time we have both halves we can get through without word spreading quickly,” Rhys said like it was the simplest solution possible—the simplest task possible.

“And how qre you planning to retrieve the Book?” Cassian added.

“These objects are spelled to each high lord and can only be found using their power.”

You looked to Feyre, almost apologetically. Thrown into this life and world and she was being asked to find pieces of the Book of Breathings itself using powers she received because she died. A shuddering feeling went through you. As if in defense of the girl you looked at Rhys. “You don’t know that it will work.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “True—but there is a way to test it.”

“Mother’s tits! Here we go again,” Cassian grumbled from his place besides Mor.

Your eyes danced over to your mate whose eyes had narrowed slightly, your fingers still intimately intertwined.

“With your abilities, Feyre ,” Rhys began, ignoring his Inner Circles words, “you might just might be able to find the half of the Book in the Summer Court. To be certain, to make sure when it counts, when we need it, when we need you, we’re going on another trip… see if you can find an object that I’ve been missing for quite some time.”

You let out another heavy sigh knowing exactly where this was going, Az still rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Shit,” Mor groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Where,” Feyre asked tremulously.

“The Weaver,” Azriel responded. His thumb stoped rubbing your hand.

“Who is the Weaver,” the new fae asked.

“An ancient and wicked creature,” Azriel responded with a sharp exhale, that tickled the back of your ear. “Who should remain unbothered,” thr spymaster shot in Rhysand’s direction.

Rhys pushed on. “I want to see of Feyre can identify the object amongst the Weaver’s trove.”

“Oh! By the Cauldron!!” Mor exclaimed. You couldn’t disagree with her.

“The Weaver,” Feyre began to press, “the Bone Carver. Can you just call someone by a name?”

You let out a soft chuckle with a slight angling of your head. She had a point. Something in the sound your momenary joy eased the shadowsinger.

“What about adding another name to that list?” Rhysand asked Feyre who had finally seemed to warm up.

A few grumbles sounded about the room, including your own.

“Emissary,” Rhys said ignoring the room. “For the human realm,” Rhys clarified, looking to you as if ensuring you weren’t about to be fired from your position.

Good, Azriel thought to himself. You needn’t make any more travels than you were doing at present as Rhysand’s emissary in every other aspect. One less place for you to be caught in something dangerous. One less thing to pull you from his arms in the morning, and leave half of the bed empty at night. Truth was, even after nearly five-hundred years together, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you and never leave the comfort of your embrace. Too bad the world had other plans.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria, @5onedirection5, @emryb

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #rhysand #feyre #cassian #mor acotar #cassian acotar #amren acotar #2nd person pov

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tiredassmage · 1 year

Photo

Cute first date ideas: get inducted into a cult with your bestie!!!!

Squishy and Mor (@captainderyn) doing hot girl shit on Dromund Kaas last night, involving a lot of swearing at Kaasian jungles, mixed signals from quest givers, and other assorted Women in STEM behaviors. xD

#swtor #swtor screenshots #imperial agent #bounty hunter #friends ocs #ch: ahdrasteia #ch: mor #sh: women in stem #ostensibly the revan statue shot is revan and squishy says that is NOT the most important view in that cave bUT

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foxylady13 · 3 months

Text

"A thing of secret, lovely beauty"

Artist: Kloartz over on IG!

~Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.

~Gwyn’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie’s free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worth telling.”

~Gwyn let out a high-pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high.

~Azriel had winnowed her and Cassian here after training, but hadn’t lingered. Apparently, Gwyn wanted him to go over dagger handling, so he’d left them with a promise to return in an hour.

From the bonus chapter: Which happens inbetween Ch. 58/59 of ACOSF

~His shadows peered over his wings at her. The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows.

~“Aren't you cold?" His breath clouded in front of him. Gwyn shrugged. "Once you get moving, you stop noticing it." He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. He blocked out the bloody memory that fashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he'd been the one who'd found her that day at Sangravah. "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing. He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?" (He's showing concern about her being cold and we have proof from Azriel he was there at Sangravah and Gwyn isn't making things up like the other side tries to say)

~Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child." Azriel's lips twitched. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow. (Azriel shows more positive emotions with his interaction with Gwyn than seemingly around anyone else)

~How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

~She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

~Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days." Azriel laughed. "I’ll give you that." Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

~"Happy Solstice," Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. "Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze." Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. (Again, Azriel is showing care/concern over Gwyn possibly being cold/out too long and just look at the wording used here)

How the bonus chapter ends:

Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

These scenes take place after the bonus chapter:

~Cassian glanced over at Az, but his attention was fixed on the young priestess, admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face."

~The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed.

~Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved.

~Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. “You’ll work in groups of three.” Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

~Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway. “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

~“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it." (Without hesitation, Azriel slaughtered all the soldiers and gave Gwyn his cloak.... similar to Lucien breaking free of his restraints without hesitation to get to Elain and give her his cloak)

After reading all this.... how can you NOT think Gwyn and Azriel are endgame? And this is what you missed on Glee......

#gwyneth berdara #pro gwyn #pro gwyneth berdara #pro gwyneth #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel's shadows #azriel #gwyn #azriel and gwyn #gwyn and azriel

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kristisbookland · 4 months

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ACOSF

Ch 19

"Because of the shit with Elain?"

Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?"

Cassian waved a hand. "A fight with Nesta. Don't bring it up," he warned when Azriel's eyes darkened.

...

Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine." But shadows still swarmed him.

Ch21

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preapering to strike.

Ch22

"She's volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain."

...

Azriel stiffened. "I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all."

...

Cassian looked over at Az. "You think you'll ever be ready for one?" Ever be ready to confess to Mor what's in you heart?"

"I don't know," Azriel said.

"Do you want a child?"

"It doesn't matter what I want." Distant words-ones that prevented Cassian from prying further. He was still happy to be Mor's buffer with Azriel, but there'd been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel...those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he'd given up.

Ch29

Amren said, " We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it."

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to."

....

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, "Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes." She threw a nod toward Azriel. "Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don't underestimate her."

Ch 31

Nesta said, "The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried."

Feyre said, "We won't allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times."

"Eyes can be blinded," Nesta said.

"Not the ones under my command," Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing, he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He'd gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern's camp to save Elain - he know the risk. "We won't make the same mistake twice."

Ch 44

"She made ballroms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

Ch 58

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm throught Nesta's and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he'd heard Elain's sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and thought it was utterly neutral, something charged went throught it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into room.

...

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him.

"Why don't you sit?" She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger.

"My shadows don't like the flames so much." A pretty lie. She'd seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and know the answer.

"Why did you come if it torments you so much?"

"Because Rhys wants me here. It'd hurt him if I didn't come."

"Well I think holidays are stupid."

"I don't."

She arched a brow. He explained, "They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things." Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn't stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn't go near the fire.

His secret to tell, never hers.

Ch 59

(After Soltice/Bonus Ch.)

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He'd been replaced on training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn't even give her a smile.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #elriel supremacy #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #sjmaas #elain archeron #it's all there

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sidthedollface2 · 3 months

Text

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

Ch Summary: After you threaten Velaris with war. Azriel is tasked to find you and bring you to the prison above the mountain. He shadows have other plans when they confront you.

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I hope this Ch sheds a little light as to what reader is and about her powers. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

In the beginning there was Khaos. The first God in existence to precede creation. Khaos filled the space between, invoking darkness and shadow. Unable to witness her work, her intense desire to see flickered before her. Discovering her own spark, she flew towards it, the force of her wings igniting, leaving a trail of stardust; giving birth to the vast universe. From her own will khaos had created the primordial deities that would reign over the elements of the universe. And thus terra, sky, darkness, light, night and day were created.

From the very desires of the first primordial gods, Demi Gods emerged, living among mortals and immortals. Soon enough these half gods no longer wanted the responsibility of mortals. Thanatos and his sisters, the Gods of Death grew tired of being witness to so much violence and bloodshed. Leaving their duties caused a riot. No other God would carry the burden of their responsibilities on top of their own. Those loyal to the Divine fought in the war of Gods, neither side backing down regardless of how much blood had been spilled. Khaos wept as she witnessed her slain children. Fighting against her kin, tears streamed down her face as she slaughtered her very own. Devastated, she fell to her knees in defeat, between her sobs she whispered in the ancient tongue, “I bind myself to the darkness of death, overpowering my light within so long as my spark prevails through the moonless journey.” All fighting ceased as every God witnessed khaos, bringer of life, descend to the lands in the form of a falling star. The fates of two entwined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house of wind was anxious, each door closed with a slam, rattling the photos that hung along the walls. The foundation, made from the mountain rock, shook and with it pieces of rubble and dust would float to the floors. Often the roaring would come back, leaving its inhabitants wide eyed and on edge.

every member of the inner circle sat in Rhys office. The air thick with tension as Azriel explained his actions, why he blocked Cassian from hurting you, why he needed to be the one to search for you. Many questions left unanswered. How did you find Velaris? And what kind of ancient magic would allow you to pass through his wards so easily?

“Rhys, I know her! We were childhood friends!” Azriel pleads, “let me find her.”

Elain’s eyes darted to Azriel, questioning his reason for his blatant lies. She knew he saw you once and never again. Yet she remained silent, a question for another day.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair. All eyes were on him as he stared at the map of Prythian that lay across his desk. He took a sip of his whiskey, considering his next move. One by one he informed them of their duties, sending every member away as soon as they received their mission.

Cassian was sent to Windhaven to ready the warriors and ensure their weapons were up to par for battle. Amren and Nesta were to stay in Velaris to survey and defend the city in case you returned. Mor was to revisit the courts that had scorched farmlands and buildings, to see if there were any more details that they overlooked. Elain wished to stay in Velaris and investigate the reason the house was slowly deteriorating. Rhys agreed. Finally he ordered Feyre to accompany Azriel in his search for you.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “No Rhys it has to be me alone. You can trust me.”

“After what I saw today, I’m not so sure where your mind is. I trust that you ‘ll do the right thing, but I don't agree with your current judgment so I’m sending Feyre with you.”

Azriels shoulders slumped as he nodded in defeat. Feyre placed a gentle hand on his back, attempting to soothe his disappointment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre walked Azriel back to his room but before he entered she grabbed his arm moving him to face her. “ I have a friend I need to visit and he doesn't like when others tag along,” she whispered, hoping no one else would hear her. Azriel narrowed his eyes. “ So I hope you understand that I won't be joining you on your mission,” she winked, releasing her hold on him. Azriel just smirked, mouthing her a ‘thank you.’

Back in his room, Azriel cleared his desk of all the healer books he had meticulously studied. All these years he’d been searching for a healer when in fact you were a God, at least according to Amren. He spent hours searching Death Gods and tracing back their lineage and none had the powers you possessed, the power in which made him search for you. The power to heal. “You've been at it for hours, come to bed honey,” Elains sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts. “None of this makes sense,” he said mostly to himself as he shook his head, ignoring Elains request.

She stood behind him, gently kneading his tense shoulders with her slim fingers. His back tensed at her touch, purely focused on his work. Determined to get him to bed, Elain rested her chin on his shoulder, angling her head towards his ear as she whispered seductively her desires. His eyes fluttered closed in frustration, as she placed wet kisses to the curve of his neck, humming at the taste of him. “Not tonight.” Coldly he shrugged her off, hating the pain she held in her eyes. Without a word Elain stepped away, leaving Azriel to drown in his work, drown in his thoughts of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And then I pushed through, you should have seen their faces,” you chuckled, recounting the events from Velaris to your dearest friend. “No matter the job you always try to make it fun.” He replied, petting the hen that sat in his lap; a gift you had brought him for the delicious tea leaves he had acquired.

You smile, enjoying his company that you often missed. Out of the corner of your eye, a wisp of shadow scurries into the darkness of the night, earning your full undivided attention. Nothing but silence is heard. “What was that?” you ask, turning back to the Suriel. “An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.” you gape at him, blinking your eyes rapidly, “I don't even want to know.” A chuckle rattles in his throat, “go before he finds you.” Without another word shimmer and darkness envelope you, winnowing you far from the Night Court.

Azriels shadows darted through the low grounds of the woods, swerving through a dense thicket of birch trees and rock formations, scouring each bush and body of water in search of you. Once they spotted you, they quickly returned to their master, curling around his ear ,whispering ‘Suriel.’

Just as you winnowed away a blade launched itself toward the Suriel; flying through the air from a shroud of darkness, pinning his cloak to a tree. “Where is she?” he asks, tone impatient and demanding.

“Here, there, everywhere.”

Azriel pinches the space between his brows in annoyance. Shaking his head he asks another question, hoping for a straight answer.

“How do I find her?”

“Evoke emotions without a single touch, no wings yet able to fly. To catch this God let her hear the cords of the night.”

“I don’t…..these riddles. I don't understand.” Azriel paced in front of the Suriel, wracking his brain for any clues.

“The touch of a memory will carry her to you.”

“Stop with the riddles!” Azriel fumed, teeth clenched tight as he stared the Suriel down.

“Are you not a shadowsinger?” he replied, pulling out the blade that held his cloak to the tree. “I've answered your questions, whether you can decipher the meaning is no business of mine.” Finished with Azriels questioning, the Suriel made his way through the woods, hen in hand for a fresh slaughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken Azriel a few days to figure out the riddle. Repeating the words over and over, analyzing each term and its meaning. The line ‘hear the cords of the night’ was what led him to realize it was a song, but what song was what stumped him. He felt like a fool singing his favorite songs in the middle of the forest, belting it out with his whole chest.

He sang songs that made him teary eyed and even sang songs in the ancient tongue, but none of those had lured you to him. The Suriel mentioned ‘the touch of a memory,’ “oh Gods, I’m an idiot,” he said to himself. He only had one encounter with you, so it was easy to remember the events of that night, all these years he could never forget. He would never forget the song, the song he thinks is about you. His mother sang this song to him as a child and he wonders if she knew the dark power you possessed, was she singing to a God in hopes to answer her prayers, to lift her from the chains that held her down.

The house of wind kindly provided warm tea and honey. It's eagerness to assist him piqued his curiosity. He would ask Elain about her findings another day. Soothing his vocal cords, a plan was formed to capture you and send you to the prison on top of the mountain.

You're the chaos of the night,

A little girl lost in the woods

You're a folktale, the unexplainable

You're a bedtime story

The one that keeps the curtains closed

And I hope you're waiting for me

'Cause I can't make it on my own

I can't make it on my own.

Azriel sang the words from his childhood, voice harmonious with a smooth baritone that held the memories from the past. He sang from the depths of his heart in hopes that the meaning behind his words would grace your ears and become a light in the dark. Guiding you towards his waiting arms.

Weathered leaves crunch under the weight of your relaxed body, grass floor cold and damp from the night. But the view of the stars in the Night Court were your favorite, they called to you as if saying 'stay.' Stars glitter like rare diamonds, and the crescent moon smiled brighter than the sun. The evening scent of mist and night felt familiar in the way that reminded you of home. It had been so long since you’ve been home, the thought of never returning grew closer and closer.

The midnight breeze caresses your skin, its gentle touch has your eyes closing, focusing on the chirping of crickets and running water. A mellow voice sings the harmonious music of the night, its soft whisper tickles your ear like a past lover, luring you to follow the rich sound.

I hope you're waiting for me

Across your carpet of stars

You're the chaos of the night,

You're everything that we can't see

Chaos, you're the possibility.

Azriel ceases to sing once he spots you round a thick tree, his shadows excitedly rush towards you and Azriel curses under his breath at their eagerness. He observes as they affectionately coil around your neck, fluffing about in your hair before they trail down your arms. You giggle at their curiosity as they loop around your fingers, “you wanna play?” you ask, as you slowly move your fingers in awe at their closeness. They playfully bounce from one hand to the other, and you take that as a yes. Azriel is dumbfounded as he admires his shadows from afar. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against a tree, his gaze slowly trails up the delicious curves of your body and he imagines what it would be like to lay with a God. He sees you smile and nod at whatever they’ve whispered in your ear and he fears you both are up to no good. As the shadows dance in a circle just a few feet in front of you, they rapidly circle around and around creating a whirlwind of darkness. Cautiously you near the edge of their tornado and zap one of the shadows, creating an orb of light within the vortex. You're mesmerized by the display in front of you. Your power bounces off the shadowed wisps like an elegant dance, the wisps gently stroke the flame of your power, careful to not get scorched.

With the blink of your eye the orb bursts, spraying the ground and trees with thousands of specs of glittering starlight. Azriel feels a jolt of electricity zip up his body, shaking him so hard he loses balance off the tree, quickly righting himself before you notice. His effort is too late, you've already spotted him.

“You're not a stalker are you?” you ask, voice playful and curious as you near him.

If you only knew, Azriel thinks with a smirk.

“No, but I can be. Nice party trick by the way.” Azriel pushes off the tree to meet you. The first thing you notice is his eyes, hazel and dreamy framed by long thick lashes. His nose is straight and a little too perfect for a warrior, you wonder if he’s ever been punched in the face before, or maybe he's just that good at fighting. His high cheekbones and strong jaw remind you of the many demi gods that have been sculpted throughout the years. You eye him up and down, taking in his stature and broad shoulders. He’s a little too handsome and in your experience these types of males are conceited snobs who only enjoy their own reflection and company. Meanwhile Azriel does the same, completely entranced by the sway of your hips and how your hair flows over the swell of your breasts.

“They seemed friendly.” you respond, tipping your head to the shadows that have swirled around the both of you, appearing to close the distance between you.

Azriel shakes his head, “I meant in Velaris. You threaten my home, my friends and my High Lord and expect to get away with it? How did you get past the wards? And how did you find Velaris?”

Before you could respond the ground shakes as a blast erupts creating a cloud of dust and forest debris. Instinctually Azriel pulls your body flush to his, shielding you from injury. Dark membranous wings curl around your body, cocooning you safely in his arms. Your hands find the planes of his toned chest as you peer up at him through your full lashes. You know what the blast was but the feeling of his body pressed against yours had your knees weak, and you couldn't break away.

Azriels heart is ramming against his chest at the proximity, his gaze is locked on your brilliant eyes as he dares to cup the side of your cheek. Angling your face to meet his, your exposed collarbone catches his attention when a bargain tattoo vanishes before his eyes; breaking the trance you had him in.

“What did you bargain?” he urges, hands now tightly gripping your upper arms.

“Your worst nightmare.”

Azriel staggered back, paling in horror as he registered your words.

Only one creature carried that name.

Bryaxis.

Part 3

Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit

#acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel

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nottyourlover · 1 year

Text

Broken Bonds - ch 1.

a/n: hopefully a series :)))) stay with me for the start here okay guys good things come to those who wait 🤡

summary: as azriel leaves for a long mission in vallahan, you find that clinging onto old bonds does nothing to heal them.

warnings: reader's pregnant, falling out of love, angst. dark mental health themes.

word count: 1594.

pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // epilogue?

***

The Night Court was abuzz with activity, as preparations for Azriel's departure on a long mission to Vallahan were underway. The news had come suddenly, leaving everyone scrambling to get everything in order. Azriel was to leave in two days' time, and the thought of being apart from him for so long was almost too much to bear. You had begged and pleaded with Rhys to not let Azriel go, delay the mission, shorten the mission, anything. Obviously, he did not budge on the decision, but you could imagine the strain on a High Lord that war would bring, especially since he also had Nyx now. Ultimately, you did know the importance of his mission. Mor had returned to Velaris as the Night Court Emissary to Vallahan, but she needed backup and Azriel's skillset along with his ability to fly was perfect. He had left for many dangerous missions in the past, but when you had asked Rhys about the duration of this one, you were shocked to hear him say "A year? Maybe two".

Your child would be born before your mate returned.

>>>

You and Azriel had been drifting apart for a while, the once intense passion between you now replaced by a strained silence. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when things had started to change, but you both knew that something was different. Maybe it was your last wedding anniversary, when you had fought over not seeing each other for months due to clashing hours, but that was years ago. A century was a long time to spend in a romantic relationship with just one person, let alone almost two centuries.

You had learned that you were 3 weeks pregnant, a fact that you had been keeping hidden from Azriel for fear of driving him even further away. When Madja had come to heal one of Cassian's injuries that had knocked him unconscious, she had asked to have a word with you afterwards.

"You're with child, y/n," Madja said, smiling as she pulled you into a private room.

"I'm pregnant?" you were in complete disbelief. You and Az had barely even seen each other lately because you were either asleep when he got home, or the other way around. Your immediate thought was to run to Azriel, hug him, kiss him, congratulate him. He was going to be a father. You were going to be parents!

Then you remembered. You two were barely speaking now. A few days ago, there was a disagreement over a dinner date that Azriel was almost two hours late to, and when he finally came, he seemed distracted and uninterested. You had only just started your entrées when Rhys burst into the restaurant with some urgent news, drawing Azriel away and leaving you to eat alone.

"Yes, y/n. Oh, I'm ecstatic for you!" Madja wrapped her delicate arms around your shoulders, but you were frozen. There was nothing worse than not being able to talk to the one you longed for the most.

After your experience with Madja, the only person who really noticed was Feyre, who had asked you what the matter was immediately, and yet again when you refused your favourite tarts. After you told her everything, she had immediately asked Helion to travel to Velaris and help mask your new scent so no one would find out about your pregnancy until you told them. The thought of bringing a child into a war-torn world with parents whose relationship was already on such shaky ground made you feel sick with worry.

However, despite the tension between you, Azriel was still the only person you wanted to be with. You were mates after all, and husband and wife too. You couldn't imagine a life without him, even if it seemed like that was where you were headed. Growing up in the Illyrian camps, books were scarce, but stories traveled by word of mouth. You had heard about the beauty of mating bonds, the love, the desire these couples had, but also the sorrow that sometimes broke the same bonds, the disasters, the catastrophes. They said losing your mate was like losing yourself.

So as you watched him pack his bags, you couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over you. The future felt uncertain, and you didn't know how things would turn out. Would you end up like one of the females in the legends you heard as a young girl, so broken by the loss of their mate that they died young and unhappy and unfulfilled?

Flashbacks of better times flooded your mind as you watched Azriel move about the room. The way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way he would wrap his arms around you and hold you close. It all seemed so distant now. Your afternoons reading by the fire, training together, heavy breathing but content as you walked up the House of Wind's stairs together, just talking and laughing. You remembered the moments where your relationship was new, so fragile you hadn't dared to tell anyone, the two of you sneaking off for just a moment of alone time.

You remembered the day you were mated, oh, how happy and in love you both were. The world had seemed so full of possibility then, and you had both believed that your happiness would last forever. Azriel's whispered promises still echoed against your skin, the memory of where he first murmured them, when your bodies were entwined, and your hearts were beating in sync, was still strong. Back then, the mating bond between you was like a beacon, guiding you to a happier future. You both deserved a better future... Now though? It was dull.

Things had changed. Azriel was leaving for a mission that could potentially be dangerous, last for years, and you were one month pregnant with a child that you didn't know if you could raise on your own.

On the morning of his departure, you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. You fell into Azriel's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He instinctively wrapped himself around you, shielding the both of you with his wings.

"I don't want you to go," you whispered through your tears. You could hear his heart beating through his armor, comforting and steady, so familiar.

"I know, y/n. I'm sorry," he kissed your forehead and your skin tingled. "I have to though," Azriel replied softly, regretfully, his arms tightening around you. "I don't want to leave either."

You murmured inaudibly, sniffing.

"This mission is important," he continued, hands circling your back soothingly. "We need the Queen of Vallahan to sign the peace treaty as soon as possible."

"But what about us?" you asked suddenly, looking up at him. Were you selfish? Your world on the brink of war and you were worried about your love life?

"What of our relationship?"

Azriel's expression was pained as he looked down at you. "I don't know," he said honestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things have been difficult between us, and I don't know how to fix them."

You wanted to tell him about the baby, to beg him to stay with you and start a family.

"As many little ones as you want, love," Azriel had once replied, smiling at you lovingly. You were sitting on the kitchen counter happily, his oversized shirt falling off your shoulders. He had kissed your left shoulder, exactly on your scar, your skin tingling. He pulled the shirt back up but this had only led to the other side falling down more, causing him to smirk a little as he adjusted it, lest you accidentally show more skin than intended if someone made the unfortunate decision to walk into the kitchen that morning.

"But my dear mate, I want what you want," you had replied, smiling, reaching for his hands to kiss their scars.

As you opened your mouth, the words wouldn't come because you knew deep down that it wouldn't change anything. You were a little selfish, but not ignorant nor sabotaging. Prythian would need all the allies it could get, and you were hopeful that with Azriel's persuasion, Vallahan's queen would finally sign.

You slowly pulled away from Azriel, wiping your tears. His eyes softened to an expression almost recognisable. An expression that almost reminded you of your past. Almost.

"I love you, y/n," Azriel said after a while. You smiled sadly, reaching for his hands to kiss their scars like you used to do.

"I love you too, Azriel," you replied, the dull bond in your mind slowly reigniting. Azriel gave you a kiss, longer than all the ones you had shared in the many months of your previous rough patches, and for those few wonderful seconds you felt the spark again, almost like new. He rested his forehead against yours, whispering, "I'll be safe, I promise". The two of you stayed like that for a while before you heard Rhys calling him and the noisy flap of wings from just outside your balcony window.

With one last glance at you, Azriel turned his back with his belongings, pausing at the window when,

"Don't forget me," you called, half-smiling.

"I couldn't if I tried," Azriel replied, before soaring into the sky.

You heard his powerful wings thumping as he soared from the balcony, away from his mate and away from his future child.

As you placed your hand on your stomach, you thought to yourself that maybe things would work out, maybe there was still a chance for you and Azriel to be happy together.

It seemed that only time would tell.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel smut #angst #fluff #smut #acotar #azriel #broken bonds #bb

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forgotten-from-the-realm · 4 months

Text

My idiots' general opinions about companions and each other

Astarion

Artemis: His skills are useful. I like his drive, but he could do to gain some sort of moral fiber rather than just seeking amusement.

Astrophel: Oh, he's the best. I would like to know more about him, but I get the feeling that the two of us are too alike for an honest conversation.

Azriel: Hm... he's a hunter in his own right. I can respect that... he also has a pretty good sense of humor.

Kieran: He's odd and livelier than most undead that I've met. I don't know how to feel about it, but he's nice, I think. He's sneaky sneaky, too.

Shadowheart

Artemis: Her devotion is admirable, but I wish she would allow herself... something more while she has her whole life ahead of her.

Astrophel: A kind and devoted soul. I... feel a little bad for her, the gods, especially ones as petty as Shar, rarely reward such things, but as long as she's happy, then whatever.

Azriel: She's a nice person and a good friend to have.

Kieran: Her goddess freaks me out, but she's nice. I like helping her heal the others.

Gale

Artemis: An ambitious wizard is hardly a novelty, but straj, he'd put a lot of them to shame. Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen.

Astrophel: Oh, he's a delight. Normally not entirely fond of wizards, but he's nice to listen to. Hm, wonder if he'd loan me any books...

Azriel: He's smart, but he's not the wisest guy there is, huh....

Kieran: ...I don't think he likes me or thinks much about me, but I... wanna get along with him. ...maybe learn a few words, too...

Lae'zel

Artemis: She's a devoted warrior. I... don't exactly trust her goddess. Vlaakith isn't like my father's goddess, but I can't help but be unsettled by an entire race showing one deity such reverence.

Astrophel: I knew a githyanki, once, before I met her... he was... very different than how she is, not sure they'd get along. That said, she's one of the more unique souls I've ever met.

Azriel: Heh, I like her style.

Kieran: ...I want to know about the funeral rites of her people, just in case.

Karlach

Artemis: Heh, she's strong... very strong. I want to aid her in getting her heart fixed in whatever way I can. Someone like her is worth facing the hells for.

Astrophel: Oh, she's... wow. The better poets would have a field day writing about her, as they should, really. She deserves to be immortalized, I think.

Azriel: I'm really glad she isn't dead, and I'll do whatever I can to keep her from begin dead.

Kieran: She's fun! ...I'll be sad when that weird thing goes out.

Wyll

Artemis: He's an honorable man, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He will regain some of what he has lost. I will make sure of it.

Astrophel: ...at least he sold his soul for an honorable cause, but I'm sure there is a loophole in his contract somewhere...

Azriel: I don't think much of the noble prince thing he has going for him, but he isn't a bad person to know.

Kieran: When he passes, he will be honored greatly by everyone who's lives he played a part in. There are few that can attest to the same.

Halsin

Artemis: A wise man. I'd seek out his council on most matters.

Astrophel: He's unique, I'll give him that. He's the type of elf that has a lot of stories to tell, and I'd love to hear his most interesting.

Azriel: His connection to the earth is admirable...

Kieran: He's wise and respects the natural order of things. I can respect that, though... do I wonder if he would... make a little wooden duck for me...

Minthara

Artemis: She was wise to reject Lolth, but I do not trust her. My honor is unstained and my hands are ready to deliver justice for all that she has slain... but everyone deserves a chance at redemption, even those like her.

Astrophel: As lovely and twice as deadly as the most lethal of nightshades... I do not envy anyone that invokes her ire, but if she calls me a faerie again, I'm stabbing her in her sleep.

Azriel: Deadly and loyal, a good mix.

Kieran: She reminds me a little of those in the cult of Myrkul I knew... calculated and cruel, but she's different in the fact that she'll at least kill while the enemy can fight back sometimes.

Jaheira

Artemis: A just and stern soul. My mother used to read me stories about her when I was still a child. Words do not do her justice.

Astrophel: Others of my profession tell such tall tales of her, but I must admit, her actual story seems far more interesting.

Azriel: She knows my true nature and allows me to live anyway... it's more than I deserve, probably.

Kieran: She'll live forever in the hearts of many for her heroic deeds from before and now... though, for her sake, I hope the bards get it right this time.

Minsc/Boo

Artemis: He's a warrior, and I would hope to spar against him one day.

Astrophel: Well, his hamster is adorable, but I'm not so sure what to think about the man himself. He's an honest soul, and those usually don't associate with the likes of me.

Azriel: ...I don't know how to feel about him calling himself my uncle, honestly.

Kieran: Boo is cute, but uh... Minsc... worries me.

Artemis

Astrophel: Ah, the noble, just paladin... truly the heroine of a great tale of chivalry and honor... forgive me if I fall asleep halfway through.

Azriel: Her thirst for spider's blood is only matched by her love of shiny things. Just need to keep her focus on our enemies.

Kieran: She's kind... I really like her. She gave me rocks that were kind of shiny that I like to keep with some bones I thought were neat.

Astrophel

Artemis: He's a more prolific liar than poet, and it shows. Though, whatever he's hiding, he doesn't seem to want to harm anyone.

Azriel: He's useful for his charms, but I prefer Alfira over him.

Kieran: He likes to tell me stories about all sorts of things... he said he's going to teach me to read when we get time, but I doubt he'll be able to.

Azriel

Artemis: If we can keep his bloodlust focused on the enemy rather than on us, then he is an asset. Should he lose control, though... I will put him to the sword.

Astrophel: I don't trust him, but I don't dislike him either. He... tries, so I'll support him... but he'll have to forgive me if I'm not eager to get too close after the last bard he was left alone with.

Kieran: Unnatural death follows him like a shadow... he is a killer, but he is kind, too. I don't know what to think about it all, but he is strong enough to fight his own demons...

Kieran

Artemis: I have... never thought I would meet a cleric who does not know the name of the god they serve... nor one that was so flippant about life and death.

Astrophel: I've never met someone so blunt before, but it adds to some of his charm... They just need to learn to read, and I'm sure they'll be... well, not better, but maybe more articulate.

Azriel: He's wiser than his naivety would imply. I would trust them to bury me with the greatest care and not much else.

#ch: azriel aelysar #ch: astrophel nightshade #ch: artemis vennyl #ch: kieran mors #musings

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