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sarahs-library · 7 months

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Forgotten: Part Two

Azriel wakes to find himself with everything he'd never allowed himself to wish for. Now, faced with the reality of all he thought he wanted, he must come to terms with his desires and the unexpected direction his life had taken.

Word count - 3564

A/N - Thank you all so much for reading the first part of my little story and for all the lovely comments and words of encouragement. I'm still learning how to post and interact on here, a few people asked to be added to a taglist which I've tried to create but I'm not sure if it actually works.

Part One ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Azriel was still under Madja’s knurled fingers as they palpated his temples, the soothing chill of her healing magic drifted over tender, swollen skin. Her copper eyes assessed his face closely and he schooled his features into a blank mask. His gaze drifted over the curve of her shoulder to meet Rhys as he lingered by the open doors of the balcony. The bland smile, the loose set of his shoulders, and the hands that hung casually in the pockets of his trousers irked Azriel. After so many years it wasn’t difficult to read this feigned nonchalance, the worry it masked beneath.

“A lingering effect of the head injury, exacerbated by the bloodsbane.” Madja’s fingers continued to probe as Azriel returned his attention to her. Thickness lingered on his tongue; left over from the medication she’d administered on her arrival to reign in his fever. His head felt clearer now, where his shadows had been silent before they sang again, murmuring of the almost imperceptible anxious shift of Rhys’ weight on the floorboards. Elsewhere the House of Wind was quiet and empty, Elain having fled into Rhys’ arms with a demand to be winnowed home without sparing a glance in his direction. Azriel had been left to stew in solitude until his brother had returned with the ancient healer tucked in his arms, greying spindrift hair windswept, her face lined with wrinkles and kind concern.

“Some amnesia isn’t uncommon with an injury like this,” Madja continued finally pulling her hands away from his face. “Though to ascertain its true extent you must tell us what you remember shadow-singer.” She retreated from him into the chair Elain had occupied earlier, righted by Rhys, and slowly lowered herself on creaking joints. Azriel balked a little under the attention as he tried to force himself to recollect. Pain brewed between his eyes. He remembered the visit to Hewn City, the scheming; the gifting of Nesta’s made blade to Eris. He remembered the solstice party, the disaster of his foray with Elain afterward, and his brother’s wrath. The ensuing weeks had been busy, his mornings occupied with training the Valkyries and concocting obstacle courses modeled after the Blood Rite qualifier. The afternoons and evenings spent keeping tabs on Eris and following up on the dead leads from whispers and fables of high-fae women bearing winged babes. Everything after was hazy, difficult to hold, and worsened the pain in his head if he tried to focus for too long.

“Feyre,” he said, and Rhys cocked an eyebrow, his face encouraging him to continue. “We were following leads on the delivery of winged babes.” The darkening of Rhys’ features filled Azriel with a sense of foreboding. “Feyre,” he continued, “is she…Is the babe...” He trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Rhys’ features softened, understanding his brother had misinterpreted the emotion to be driven by his grief and loss and not for the male before him. Shoulders pulled forward in a rare display of vulnerability, scarred fingers clasping his knees for stability, Rhys struggled to recall a recent memory of seeing his brother so open, so vulnerable. He hadn’t seen him this lost since their youth in the war camps.

“Feyre,” Rhy drawled, fixing Azriel with what he hoped was an abating expression. “And the babe, we named him Nyx, they’re both well. Perfect.” Rhys watched his brother process the information, the small twitch of the corner of his mouth the only sign of his surprise. Watched as Azriel came to terms with the missing months in the timeline, Feyre still had half of her pregnancy to go during the solstice. How would he even begin to broach the missing years? “You don’t remember anything about the attack?” Rhys probed, Azriel bristled under the line of questioning.

“No.” His fingers danced over his injured abdomen and trailed the bandages before climbing up to rub over the empty feeling in his chest, worse than any wound he’d ever gotten. It left him feeling cold and empty. The glint of his rings caught his eye. The signet on his little finger embossed with the Night Court symbol, a gift from Rhys centuries ago declaring him part of his found family, rubbed against an unfamiliar band of gold.

Feyre

Feyre locked eyes with Nuala as she crouched over Nyx playing with his toys on the carpet. The shadow-wraith stepped silently over to them and greeted the young heir to the Night Court with a small smile, producing a plate of homemade biscuits warm from the oven and smelling of cinnamon. Nyx fixed her with his cerulean eyes and toothy smile, cheeks chubby from the lingering fat of youth. Reaching out to fist the crumbling treat in one hand he thanked her, proceeding to get more crumbs in the creases of his clothes than he did in his mouth. Feyre’s heart swelled.

“I’ll be back soon,” she reached out to stroke his midnight hair as his arms waved, one brandishing a small wooden figure and the other his half-eaten treat.

“Okay, mama.” His eyes were drawn to her briefly before he returned to his imaginary world, moving his wooden figure into position to conquer the high ground of his drawing table, covered in drying paint and charcoal pencils.

“You’ll behave for Nuala won’t you?” Nyx nodded eagerly in agreement and proceeded to clash the figurine in his hand against a triangle formation of his enemies with a sound of delight. Feyre rose, leaning close to thank the shadow-wraith on her way to the door. After taking an indulgent glance backward she stepped into the breach, winnowing to a familiar path on the outskirts of Velaris.

Well-manicured grass thick with morning dew poked through the paving stones Feyre stepped between on the way up to the front door. The lower level was in darkness, the windows blending into the dark stone and winding vines. The second level blazed, fae light seeping out of the floor-to-ceiling windows though Feyre saw no movement.

The dark wood of the door opened on a wind under her fist, poised to knock, and Feyre took the invitation to enter. The foyer offset the chill of the early morning air and she made a beeline towards the dark staircase. The open door allowed a beam of sunlight into the sitting area, dark with the curtains drawn, illuminating the comfortable leather chairs perched around the large fireplace.

Feyre eyed the portrait hanging above the mantle, a solstice gift to Azriel the year after his mating ceremony, her heart ached. Depicting the moment after the vows had been said and the food exchanged, hands clasped between them bound by thick dark ribbon, Feyre remembered agonizing for days over how to properly encapsulate onto the canvas the shared look of love and adoration. Feyre couldn’t imagine how you had coped over the last few days, in the last months of pregnancy sitting vigil at Azriel’s bedside wondering if he would wake up. Presumably elated to hear he had awake, only to find him in the arms of another woman, one with whom he shared such history.

Continuing up the stairs to the second floor Feyre followed the fae lights towards the front of the house. The door to the nursery was ajar and she stopped short of the threshold. Your back was to her, one hand tracing the soft carved wood of the bassinet Azriel had spent every spare moment painstakingly crafting. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, leftover from a few weeks ago when the pair of you decorated the walls with murals of snow-capped mountains, lush forest greenery, and frolicking animals.

Suspended over the bassinet in a sea of miniature stars hung multicolored globes, each spinning on their invisible axis. The spiraling constellation, you’d called it a galaxy, held all the planets known to your people. Feyre wondered how many you’d seen in your trips across the stars as you reached up into the field of magic closest to you to trace your fingers over a small planet of russet brown cratered with darker swirls.

“Rhys told me what happened.” Feyre watched as you continued to agitate the floating sphere. You didn’t turn. She crept closer into the room, torn between giving you space and reaching out in comfort. She waited with bated breath to see if you would respond before continuing. “It’s the head injury, he doesn’t remember.”

“He had no idea who I was.” The hand that hung in the stars moved to cradle your abdomen. “He would’ve…” You trailed off. The posturing, the aggression, there was no doubt at that moment Azriel viewed you only as a threat, a stranger, someone who had invaded his home. That was not the male who had doted on you only a week before, hands cradling you gently as his lips brushed your soft skin singing low lullabies to your unborn babe.

“Elain was at the River House earlier,” Rhys had dropped her there with a rushed explanation before disappearing again. “She feels awful, she wanted to come and apologise.” Feyre wasn’t sure why she brought up Elain, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she’d made a grave miscalculation.

“I don’t care what Elain wants right now Feyre.” The temperature in the room plummeted as you finally turned to look at her. For a moment the air in the room thinned and Feyre struggled against the pressure of the vacuum that forced her to exhale. As quickly as it came the atmosphere in the room returned to normal and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Feyre tried to keep her voice low and soothing, pinned under your gaze as she edged closer, reaching out to place an open palm on your arm. “Madja’s with him now, she says that all this is to be expected. When Rhys spoke to her earlier she said these things usually resolve themselves with time.” Your thumb traced gentle circles on your swollen belly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little short on that right now.” The anger in your tone was undermined by the tears threatening to spill. Realising there wasn’t anything she could say Feyre moved to pull your body against her own. Arms encircling you in a comforting embrace, she rubbed her fingers between your shoulder blades. You moved to hold her back, resting your face in the space where her neck met her shoulder as you let the tears fall. “What am I going to do?” Your voice was thin and watery, in the time Feyre had known you she’d never heard you speak with so little conviction.

“We’re going to figure this out.” She pulled away slightly and clasped your face between her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I promise. You have all of us, you’re not alone in this. We’ll do everything we can for you, both of you.” Nodding you sniffed, pulling away. Feyre let you go as you turned your attention back out to the window, eying the gilded disc of the sun as it rose across the Valaris skyline.

“I’m heading to the House of Wind,” Feyre continued to observe you as you tracked the ascent. “Would you like to come?” You moved closer to the window. On the opposite side of the city you could see the grand mountain range and it’s carved residence. Through the morning mist blanketing the base a large, winged figure rose, angling to land on one of the balconies.

“I don’t think I can look at him right now.” Feyre acquiesced her desire to push you to come with her.

Azriel

After Madja had left Rhys with strict instructions regarding Azriel’s rehabilitation over the next couple of days, he’d supported his brother’s weight while they made slow progress to the bathroom. Azriel’s limbs felt stiff, uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he concentrated on remaining upright and shuffling one foot in front of the other.

Steam rose from the bath the House had prepared, swirling to meet the shadows that seeped down his arm as Azriel braced one hand on the edge of the tub. Using the other he edged the loose cotton trousers down over his thighs until they pooled at his feet. Fingers tugged at the cotton on his abdomen to find purchase, loosening and unwinding until the bandaging fell away to reveal an angry pink scar, jagged and stark against tanned skin.

“Want me to wash your back?” Rhys shot him a cheeky grin, but the mirth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Azriel appreciated the effort, this small attempt at normalcy. He shot his brother an obscene gesture before raising one leg to step into the tub, thigh muscles twitching as he shifted into the hot water. Using his arms to brace his weight he started to lower himself in, descending too quickly they struggled to hold him up causing a wave of bathwater to soak the floor. Azriel sunk under the warmth of the water, allowing it to soothe him.

“We’ll be in the dining room, come down when you’re ready.” His shadows had already informed him of Cassian and Nesta’s arrival, he assumed the rest of his family wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel nodded, avoiding Rhys’ gaze, pretending to study the shadows roiling over the water. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Azriel watched Rhys’ reflection as he opened his mouth as if to speak, no sound coming out as he considered, before closing it again and disappearing through the doorway.

Dressing had been an arduous process, though no longer stiff and painful his muscles had a weakness that he wasn’t used to. After struggling into the tight second skin of his fighting leathers he felt more himself. Finding truth-teller laid out in its holster on the dresser he strapped it to his thigh. His shadows, now a fuller cohort with the effects of the bloodbane leaving his system, were a thick tangle of moving darkness, sour and agitated in solidarity with their master.

Despite his interrogation, they hadn’t offered him any useful information, it caused Azriel great frustration when they took the stance of purposeful vagueness or outright ignored him. He sent them ahead down the corridor to scout out the dining room only to be turned around by a shield of impenetrable night. Whatever conversations were going on in that room, Rhys did not want him privy to them. His own family, keeping secrets. It left a bad taste in Azriel’s mouth, a sense of betrayal in his chest that sat next to the empty feeling he was growing accustomed to, a limb he didn’t know he had until it was missing.

Azriel reached the closed door, the thick night dissipating as he progressed, the sound from beyond the door returned but he heard no voices. Just the sound of breathing and the clink of porcelain as someone set a cup on a saucer. Rhys must have informed them of his impending arrival. He pushed the door open and took in his family.

Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre and Amren all sat at the table which had been used for family dinners before the River House was built. Their faces were carefully blank as he assessed them all. Mor was notably absent, information Azriel tucked away, either her efforts across the continent were still ongoing or some other manner of business had her attention. He hadn’t expected to see Elain, not after her spectacular display of anger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of unease and disappointment it left in his gut.

“Finally, the invalid graces us with his presence. Took you long enough,” Cassian sent him an easy grin, arms folded across his stomach as he lounged in his chair. Azriel scowled in response which only made his brother’s smile wider. This had always been Cassian’s modus operadi, an invitation to be provoked into a physical outlet if that’s what was needed, thinly veiled under jibes he rarely meant at heart. For a moment, Azriel considered taking up the unspoken offer, if only to delay what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“Azriel,” it was Feyre who spoke, offering him a small smile, “Why don’t you join us?” Azriel understood that it wasn’t an invitation and slid into the seat next to Amren. His eyes met Nesta’s who sat across from him. They’d reached a tentative understanding, perhaps it could be considered a friendship, in the months he could recall. He remembered her joy at receiving the solstice gift he’d gotten for her, the resulting rare display of physical affection.

Looking at her now, face resolute and stony with blazing anger behind her eyes, barely contained, he had the sense that something had damaged the dynamic between them. He purposely looked away, instead fixing his eyes on Rhys; then Feyre. He waited for someone to speak, break the almost oppressive silence. He half-expected it to be Cassian again, with some throwaway comment or badly timed joke, but it was Rhys who cleared his throat.

“Azriel, thank you for joining us.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at the formality but stayed silent. “There are some matters we need to discuss.”

“Clearly.” He trailed his eyes over his family again, they all seemed uncomfortable to be here, to be around him. As if they knew he was going to react badly to whatever they were going to say. Rhys let his remark go, seeming resolute to power ahead with the conversation.

“What you showed me of your recent memories,” he continued, eyes drifting to Feyre who gave him an encouraging smile. “Lead us to believe that the memory loss is more extensive than we originally feared. Azriel, what you showed me – it was more than five years ago.” Azriel barely seemed to move under the scrutiny of their gazes. He’d lost years of his life. In the grand scheme of his immortality it felt like nothing, but looking at his family and realising that they lived in a future he didn’t remember left him feeling sick.

Azriel tried to find some rational thought to hold onto as he spiralled. He fell back onto the only thing he could rely on, his role as the Night Court’s spymaster. “Was it the work of the Queens? The attack?”

“The debacle on the continent has been resolved, for the most part. It was only supposed to be a routine investigation, nothing too strenuous or time-consuming given your current…” Rhys paused. “Situation. You were gathering information on some remaining rebellious factions, we didn’t anticipate that you would meet that kind of resistance, that they would have the resources. We’re sorry Az, we never meant for any of this to happen.”

“And what exactly is my current situation, Rhysand? What do you have to apologise for?” Azriel’s voice was low and dangerous. Amren snorted at the display, reaching for her wine glass. He expected a scathing remark, but it never came as Rhys shot her a look, and in a rare moment of deference she adhered as he implored her to remain silent.

“The female that was in the house earlier-“

“The thief.” Azriel interrupted.

“No,” Feyre cut in before Rhys could continue. “Her name is Y/N, and she’s your mate Az. The situation,” Feyre seemed to find describing it as such distasteful, but she continued. “Is that she is pregnant, with your child. That’s why we’re sorry, if we knew how dangerous it would be we never would have asked you to go alone.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Three brothers for three sisters, that was what Azriel had always thought about, always dreamed. The cauldron blessing him with undeniable proof that, though not blood-related, he and his brothers were three equal parts in the eyes of fate. He’d wanted that, seeing how happy they were in their relationships filled him with bone-deep envy. Observing from the sidelines as Rhys and Feyre prepared for the new addition to their family with vigour, as Cassian and Nesta had danced around each other in slowly shrinking circles. The other halves of their souls. That should have been him and Elain, never mind the mockery of the bond Vanserra thought they had. Azriel knew it was a mistake, a sick joke that would all work out in the end because there was no other way it could be. Three brothers for three sisters.

He wanted it all. A house on the outskirts of the city, filled with the sweet scent of Elain’s baking and made beautiful by the flowers she cultivated in their gardens. Filled with sunlight and happiness, somewhere to retreat from the darkest corners of his life. He’d dreamed of that life in the secret hours of the dawn, of a future where the issues of Feyre’s pregnancy had been resolved and perhaps their home was filled with the noise of children.

Now he had awoken in a future where he had those things, a mate, an unborn babe on the way, only to find it wasn’t with whom he desired. Elain, whom he had woken in this world for, who had been so tender in his first moments of consciousness, who had kissed him back. Azriel couldn’t imagine choosing to build that life with anyone else.

A/N - Phew! I know, the angst was real. I promise it will get better, but there's definitely a long way to go here! Part three is in the works, not sure when it will be finished but hopefully it won't be too long.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite

#azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar series #acotar x reader

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

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A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Four

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - memory loss, you being kinda bad ass, blood, swearing, angst, allusions to death, tension

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

Muscle memory.

Cassian had told you about it, he had told you how his muscles were able to remember every move and angle, every swipe and weight that he needed to put behind a punch when he had been out of training for too long. Muscles had memory, they were able to find their way back to where they needed to be.

It had been a week before Cassian had asked you to train with him, well, not so much as asked but told you. You didn't have much of a choice. You had agreed, you had pushed it back as much as possible, but Cassian was getting grumpy with you to the point he'd stopped bringing you your morning chocolate pastries. It was getting a little dire.

Cassian knew it was futile to try and send Nesta or Azriel to you, to convince you to start training, all you needed to do was smile at them and they'd crumble, forgetting completely about why exactly they had been sent to fetch you. It had bought you a few more days.

The next step was to deprive you of the damned chocolate croissants. You went nuts for them as much as Nyx did, and the Inner Circle would come downstairs often to find you and the little one curled up on the sofa eating those sweet pastries. Cassian was happy to report that the removal of those treats was enough to get you to agree to a training session the next morning.

It wasn't like you were happy about it, but hey, chocolate filled pastries made you happy, and you wanted more of them.

"Don't sulk," Azriel spoke to you from the plush surface of your bay window, giving you a sidelong glance when you appeared from the bathroom in the training leathers that Nesta had given to you, tugging at the cuffs and waist of the fabric to pull it into place.

"I'm not sulking," he looked to you pointedly as you picked up your leather holsters, frowning at them and holding them up to your waist, "Maybe a little," you shrugged, putting your hand through the large gap, struggling to figure out how exactly they worked, "I'm only doing this for Nyx."

"Sure you are," Azriel smirked, that devilish grin that always seemed to find his lips. His wings were neatly tucked behind him, elbows on his knees, face in his scarred palms. A spurt of water splashed his face and he blinked in surprise, noting your matching smirk and little curtsey, "Mature."

Cassian had a feeling that you were a warrior of some kind before you fell into Prythian and lost your memories, he was sure of it actually, from the curve of your muscles to the peeled callouses on your hands, even your eyes told a million stories. Ones he'd very much like to hear one day.

Azriel wiped the small droplets from his face and stood from his seat, crossing the room and holding his hand out at you. He towered over you, he consumed you in shadow so dark that the sunlight wasn't able to pierce through and hold you. Tendrils of hell-black shadow curled around your unbound hair, they curled over your shoulders and shuddered in adoration at your warmth, you'd gotten used to it quickly and almost sought out their innocent affection. "Give it to me," he motioned to the holster, not even bothering to reign his shadows back to him, he knew they wouldn't listen. It was a waste of time.

You hadn't told anyone how your nightmares had transformed into more vivid dreams, you no longer woke up screaming clutching at your raw throat, instead, your dreams awoke you to those same purple eyes that said nothing and simply watched you. You were sure if you told anyone they'd think you were beyond mad

Azriel dropped to his knees before you after you had handed the leather straps over to him, he lay them on the floor and tapped your leg softly, a sign for you to step into the holes. He grasped at the edges and began to pull them up your legs, his fingers brushing your sides and inner thighs before shimmying them over your hips, looking down on you with a shit-eating grin, "Was that so hard?" Azriel's eyes turned a shade darker, his breath drifted over your face and you shook your head softly as he fastened the buckle, "Mhm."

Heat rose to your cheeks and you looked away quickly, hoping that he didn't see, but of course, you knew he did. Azriel was spymaster of the Night Court for a reason.

"Come on," you strode for the door, throwing it open and allowing a whoosh of cold air to flood your bedroom, "Cassian probably thinks I've bailed again."

To Cassian's surprise, you had actually shown up.

The Lord of Bloodshed leaned against a stone block, his face dipped in a scowl, convinced that you were all talk. But then you had arrived, clad in Nesta's leathers, hair unbound which you were raking back with your fingers, tying it up messily on the back of your head, with Azriel striding after you.

He had decided not to make a comment about your tardiness, upon Nesta's request, his mate had taken quite a liking to you to the point of growling at him when he had made a joke about you.

Nesta had told you bits about training whilst you both read in one of the seating rooms at the House of Wind, where she and Cassian lived and you had visited often to pluck books from its library and find some comfort in them. She had told you that Cassian would most likely be tough on you, he was tough on everyone, but it was a good thing, he wanted to push people to be the best they could be.

You and Cassian had sparred for an hour, your muscles ached from blocking his punches and hitting the ground, hair had fallen from your poor excuse of a bun and dirt coated the side of your face from one particularly rough takedown, you were tired of it.

Azriel watched you closely from his perch, calling out corrections to you which you had tried to implement but it always ended in Cassian flooring you.

Ready to voice your readiness to return to the townhouse, a glint caught the corner of your eye, a shimmering sparkle that pulled your attention to the racks of weapons to your right. Without a word to Cassian, you dropped your arms to your sides and approached it, scouring the array of lethal weapons that lined the hooks until you found that one that had pulled you there.

Black rope was wound around one of the arms, holding two iridescent onyx hooked blades, sharp enough to inflict untold damage. Reaching for them, you grasped at the bundles of rope and held them in an open palm, turning slightly as your hand adjusted to the weight. It felt odd but it also felt right. So right.

The two Illyrians watched you with intrigue, they watched as you let the bundles of rope zip from your fingers, they watched the two blades sway at your sides, and they watched your free hand move to grip a free section level with your abdomen. Familiarity burned within you, and they saw it rear its wondering head to them.

They swung slowly at first, in lazy circles as you adjusted to the feelings, and then your movements increased until they were dizzying spheres whipping around your body by your perfectly arched hands. Your stance had changed, one foot planted in front of the other and they watched you in awe, the shéng biāo was a difficult weapon to master, to the point that even Cassian and Azriel steered away from it, but there you were, weaving it around your body with perfect control like it was nothing.

Then you had stopped, a large grin falling over your face and you looked to Cassian, holding the weapon in the palms of your hands, "Muscle memory, right?"

Azriel jumped down from his perch and clapped Cassian on the shoulder, the latter being too stunned to speak whilst Azriel approached you, "Who knew that the Little Flower is a shéng biāo master?" He teased, you wrapped the rope around the indent of your thumb to your elbow until it was neat and compact, placing it back on its ledge. "You just keep on surprising me."

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, turning back to him with your arms folded over your chest.

"No," he smiled, "Not in the slightest."

It took Cassian a few moments to return to earth, too dumbfounded to waltz back into his body any sooner, he still couldn't form coherent words, simply muttering that Rhys would love the show you had just put on in wielding one of the most formidable weapons in the entire of Prythian.

Keir had insisted upon a meeting with the entirety of the Inner Circle, with all of the High Lords actually. It sounded more like a party, but anything to do with Keir felt like all work and no play, Rhys had told you.

Rhys had told you that Eris would be there, that he was constantly asking about you without ever actually asking you. Nesta said he wanted to give you space, that he thought that he was the problem, and you wished more than anything that he would know how wrong he was.

You missed Eris, and Duke. You missed the warm autumn sun pooling into your pores. You missed the hues of gold and orange that coated the midline of Autumn. You missed the roaring fires and Eris' arms wrapped around you as he shushed you back into slumber. You missed the sound of his heartbeat and that intoxicating scent of burnt orange, caramel and pine that washed all of your worries away. You missed him.

You had insisted that they all go, that even if it was more work than play, that they deserved a night away to let loose a little, you'd happily stay and care for Nyx. It was Amren that usually stayed behind in these situations, but you were adamant that they should all go, to have a night without Nyx as a family and leave you to take care of everything else.

They had all filed out of the townhouse door, dressed in the most spectacular outfits that you could only dream to own. Feyre had thanked you with a kiss to the cheek before excitedly rushing from the house, linking arms with Lucien and pulling him and Elain down the winding garden path with loud laughter emitting from her lips.

"If you need us just shout," his finger drifted to your temple, "Shout to me and we'll come back," he told you with a warm smile and fond eyes.

Rhys had been just as dumbfounded as Cassian when he heard of your talent with the shéng biāo, the rope dart as he called it, even Rhys found it too difficult to wield, always slicing open his calves whenever he had tried in the past. It was becoming more obvious that your story was a deep one, one with many layers that he was invested in uncovering.

After your conversation with Feyre, you had immersed yourself with life in Velaris, you had joined their family dinners and chimed into conversations with quirky anecdotes and other-worldly questions, you had joined Mor and Feyre on a shopping trip where they had insisted on buying you everything you had laid eyes on, citing that you were like a breath of fresh air to their family so deserved to be treated like one of them. Elain had taught you to bake and you had spent time in her garden, it reminded you of the gardens of Fir Manor, and you allowed your water to extend from your fingertips and into the earth, licking the roots and bringing them to life.

Rhys had taken you to the Sidra, Amren allowed you into her apartment, and Nesta sat and read with you nightly, and you often became lost in conversation with her about characters and plots with the occasional argument of who should end up with who.

The High Lord pulled his finger from your temple, the warm patch turning cold as he stalked from the house after his mate. Jumbled garble entered your ears, Azriel walked up to you dressed in his fighting leathers, bouncing Nyx in his arms, walking so slowly that it felt like he didn't want to leave, only handing over the babe once you had reached out for him.

"You take care of her, Nyx," he took Nyx's tiny hand between his fingers and shook it gently before looking up at you, "If you need anything-"

"I'll scream loud enough for the entire of Prythian to hear," you bounced Nyx on your hip, turning your head to place your nose in his hair and inhale that beautiful smell that made your stomach coil with blissful want. "Go. And try not to be so serious."

Azriel held his hands up as he backed out of the room and into the night, "I can't promise anything."

He kept his gaze on you, walking backward down the path and toward the loud billowing voices that awaited him. You looked incredible, the light of the entryway curving around your figure, you were dressed in a navy blue velvet dress with soft ballooned shoulders and gold thread tied into a neat bow at your lower back, the skirt fell to your ankles and you wore black pumps on your feet. It was like Velaris had taken root within you and blossomed in your soul.

It took a lot to make him turn from you, to stop imagining you stood there holding your own child, his child, in your arms.

Feyre sent him a knowing look which was followed by a soft squeeze of her hand on his forearm before they winnowed away, leaving you all alone with her most prized possession.

Your evening with Nyx had been nothing short of magical.

You had baked together, a certain type of cupcake that Elain had taught you to make, and a tiny flour covered hand print rested on your cheek. You had read to him, a tale of fearsome warriors, dragons, and love. You had eaten the chocolate croissants Cassian had returned with that afternoon, telling him that you knew that his uncle would give in eventually.

And then he had gotten tired, his little mouth contorting into heart clenching yawns. It was then that you gathered him into your arms and put him to bed, humming softly to him as he drifted off and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before slipping from the room with a click of the door.

You lingered in the hallway, gazing at the paintings that lined the walls, Feyre's paintings, that told stories of her emotions, swirls of colour and shading perfectly depicting her home and love for everything within it.

The journey back to the living area felt strange, like something was telling you to stop and turn back, to not go down there. Goosebumps sparked across your flesh and an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of your stomach. A shrill chill swarmed around you, gusts of draughty air blowing through the house, pushing you, pleading you to be anywhere else.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you saw why.

Facing you were two cloaked figures, huge, snarling things shrouded in the shadow of their hoods. They drowned you with their stature, large creatures that stank of blood and decaying flesh.

Gloved hands reached for the crystal hilted knives in their holsters and they brandished them to you, a clear threat, "We almost didn't believe the whispers of Tiamat falling into this cesspit of a world," a voice hissed, it was gargled, like he was choking on thick blood, and low enough to make you hunch inward.

"Is the babe asleep? We would hate for him to miss this," the other forked, a serpentine poison laced to the more feminine words. A male and female.

In instinct, you locked your hand around the wooden railing of the stairs, your chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, your eyes were wide with fear, you hands were clammy and body trembling, "You will not touch him," your words managed to fall from your lips, calm and stoic as you attempted to search the room for the nearest weapon; a sword that hung in a cabinet to the side of the fireplace.

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to stop that, sweet Tiamat."

Silence.

A single beat of it.

Then they lunged for you.

Twirling on your heel, you managed to dodge the grip of the male to only be tackled over the edge of the armchair by the other, she sent you toppling to the floor, and you smashed your hip into the corner of the coffee table with brutal force. There was no time to focus on that.

You scrambled against the wood, pulling yourself along the floorboards whilst she dug her talons into your calves, ripping through the muscle and inhaling the scent of your blood deeply, purring at it.

With little effort, she pulled you backward, gripping the waist of your dress and tossing you into the glass cabinet like it was nothing. It smashed at the impact, shards of glass embedding into your back, and you fell to the floor with a thud, "What happened to you? I expected more of a fight," she kicked your leg, pulling groaning whimpers from your mouth, "It's alright," she cooed, tucking escaped strands of hair behind your ear before plunging her knife into abdomen, ignoring your screams and the blood seeping through the navy blue of your dress, "I'll tell them that you fought, I'll tell them that they were too late," she dug it in deeper, summoning guttural pants from your chest.

Blood. So much blood. So much liquid.

Liquid.

Gasping, you wrapped your hand around her wrist, driving her dagger deeper through you, feeling the beat of her pulse under her flesh. You dug your fingers into that spot, tapping into that power and allowing it to slow her blood down whilst spandrils of water flowed from your fingers and up her arms, across her face, and into her eyes and mouth.

The thing sputtered on top of you, understanding that whilst her blood was slowing to a stop, that she was always drowning in your grip. Then she fell to the side with blue lips and her alabaster skin peeked through the hood of her cloak, rippling with grey veins.

Nyx.

You cried out, using the edge of the table as a support to stand. The other one didn't move, he simply watched you, you could hear that rotten smirk through the darkness, and your hunched body tensed as he began to move to the stairs. Without thinking, you tore the blade from your abdomen, you ignored the searing pain that cut through your body, and you threw that knife at him with sterling precision. It embedded itself straight into the back of his head and he dropped to the floor with a thud.

Blood ran down your legs, footsteps of bright red signalled where you were going as you clutched your stomach and hauled yourself up the stairs after ripping the knife from your attackers stiff fingers.

You could have cried when you saw Nyx still asleep in his cot, sleeping so deeply that whatever had occurred downstairs didn't wake him.

A sob escaped you and you slid down the side of his cot, an arm wrapped around your abdomen, your hand clutching the crystal hilted blade which was pointed at the closed door.

Rhys had felt it. He had felt that something was gravely wrong.

Wild, wide eyes signalled to his family that they had to leave and fuck the consequences. Nesta had been talking to Eris when she felt Cassian's hand on the small of her back, his lips by her ear telling her that they all had to go. That something was wrong.

Eris refused to be left behind, he had spent every day thinking of you, and he knew that if Rhys was rattled then whatever they would return to Velaris to find could be monstrous. Rhys hadn't cared when Eris had followed them from the room, he hadn't cared when Lucien had grasped his upper arm and winnowed him into Velaris.

Rhys and Feyre stood frozen into place, it was Azriel that bolted to the slightly ajar front door of the townhouse with Cassian and Nesta in tow.

The room was flipped, furniture thrown across the space, broken glass covered in blood, and pools of that thick red liquid dotted about the space with bare footprints inked in it trailing toward and up the stairs.

Two bodies lay there in the darkness, one pale and blue lipped, the other with a large hunting knife shoved through the back of his head that protruded from his mouth. The rest of the inner circle entered the room, quietly surveying the place that was not lit with its usual fire that you had always refused to let go out, it was cold, it was tainted.

Azriel ran. He ran up the stairs, he followed those bloody footsteps. He prayed to the mother that they were yours and that you hadn't been taken. He prayed with everything in him that those steps didn't belong to another attacker, he prayed that they hadn't reached Nyx.

The Shadowsinger burst through the door of Nyx's bedroom, frantic and wild, and completely uncontrolled. He froze in his place in the doorway, he froze as his hazel gaze found you sat in a pool of your own blood, pale and shaking, a knife in your free hand, and a little handprint dusted onto your cheek.

Footsteps followed him and he felt the fire at his side, the male choked and rushed to you, sliding onto his knees through your blood and cupping your hazed face in his hands, "I didn't let them touch him," you rasped, "I'd never let anyone touch him."

Feyre and Rhys appeared next, exhaling with relief before finding you. You were barely keeping your eyes open, Azriel could feel how cold you were from his place in the door, "Little Flower," Eris called to you softly, and Azriel hated how it made him feel to see you turn your eyes to Eris and crumble, "You're okay, you did great. Nyx is fine."

Rhys moved to you as you weakly asked, "Nyx is fine?"

The High Lord took your limp hand in his, he slid the knife away from you, "Nyx is fine, Flora. He's okay. You protected him."

Nesta's eyes were wide, emotion flowed through her as her bottom lip wobbled at the sight of you, she wanted to reach for you, but instead she moved to Nyx and bundled the sleeping babe up in her arms, removing him from the room in case he awoke and saw it all, all of your blood that stained the carpet like the Sidra along the riverbank.

"Call for Madja, Mor," she nodded quickly and darted down the hallway, Rhys moved to scoop you up but you cried out in agonising pain and he flinched, retracting his hands from you.

Your body was covered in scratches, your flesh was ripped apart and shard of glass were embedded in your back, long tears sliced up your calves. It was incredible how you were still conscious.

"Little Flower," Eris called again but softer, he coaxed your attention and you reached for him, your bloody thumb staining his chin.

"You're here," you whispered with drowsy exhaustion, too weak to keep your fingers on him for a moment longer.

"Of course I'm here," he placed a kiss into your hair and ran his fingers across your face, allowing small licks of fire to warm your skin.

Then your gaze moved upward toward the open door, you looked at him and it broke him more, he moved to you and knelt to your level, "Az. It hurts," your voice broke.

"Let me move you, let me fix you," he felt Eris' eyes on him but he didn't care, not for one second, and when you nodded, he had never been so careful in holding anything in his life.

He held you in his arms, not caring for the glass that was breaking through his skin, he looked to Rhys with a darkness in his eyes that his High Lord had never seen before, he growled, "Find who did this before I wage war on every single court in Prythian."

Rhys had no words, he simply silently nodded and watched as his brother took care with each step he took from the room so that you didn't whimper in his arms, leaving his High Lord behind stood in a pool of your blood with the crystal hilt of the dagger dancing in the moonlight.

Authors Note

It's here!!

Pretty please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

Taglist

sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone 🥺

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lucysstoryworld · 1 month

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The Veil Whisperer | Azriel x Reader (1)

Summary: The aftermath of Bryce Quinlan's arrival has stirred up some trouble for the Night Court. After weeks of trying to resolve the issues on their own, the inner circle of the Night Court are left having to consult a dangerous female to complete the job much to Azriel's dismay.

Themes: Love/hate relationship, enemies to lovers kinda.

Warnings: CC3 SPOILERS, NSFW from the get-go, canon-typical violence, angst.

No use of (y/n). I might have gotten some info wrong about acotar and can't double check bc I gave my friend my books so pls be aware of that. I would also massively appreciate any criticism! I'm trying something new and would definitely appreciate any pointers of any kind!

Words: 3620

Azriel stood before his High Lord and Lady, frustrated and exhausted. Irritation was rippling off him in waves, his shadows swirling as though there were snakes poised to strike. Azriel was poised as though he was going to strike. The fresh spring wind had melded into the sweltering summer breeze since he had last been in Velaris. Gods he wished he could sit on one of the many balconies of the River House, with a whiskey and book in his arsenal. The feeling of the sun on his wings, the sweet scent of Elain’s garden being pushed around by the wind and the faint sound of Nyx cooing close by felt like a dreamscape away.

“So there’s nothing,” Rhys stated, more than asked.

Azriel felt his muscles tighten and his fists close. More than anything, he felt the tiredness weighing on his eyes as he furrowed his brows. The actions were so slight that, to the normal eye, they would go unnoticed. But to Rhys and Feyre, the actions were as obvious as the sky being blue. “Not even a trace,” He started, reigning in his annoyance. “My spies have tried, their connections have tried, I’ve tried and I can’t even pick up a hint of a track.”

Azriel wished he could go back in time and make Bryce undo whatever it is she did to the Prison during her impromptu visit. Azriel had spent the last number of weeks cleaning up after her. Or attempting to at least. Azriel watched as Rhys assessed the weight of his words, observed as he and Feyre spoke mind-to-mind.

Feyre lifted her chin. “So what we are faced with is that this is not something we can resolve…” she looked hesitantly toward Azriel, trying to lay the words delicately. Feyre very rarely saw Azriel so wound up. There had been glimpses in the war, like when Elain had been lured away by the cauldron. But this was a different ball game. Bryce had stirred up Prythian in her desperate attempt to save her world. Feyre could not fault the girl for that, no matter the swagger Bryce flaunted. But, they had been cleaning up, Azriel had been cleaning up the chaos she left behind. “Not on our own at least,” She finally finished.

Azriel struggled to move past the feelings of failure with his High Lady’s words. Though his bones were aching, his wings seemed heavier and heavier with each tick of the clock and his shadows now swirling lazily as if they were the embodiment of his exasperation, Azriel couldn’t help like feeling he could have done more. Like he could dig that little bit deeper to give his brother and Feyre some semblance of information. Anything, if it meant they wouldn’t have had that slightly disappointed look on their faces.

Azriel did not acknowledge Feyre’s words, instead picking a spot on the wall behind both of them. A pawn, ready to be ordered to their next position. Rhys could see his brother recessing. He remembered the time he saw Azriel again after the first wars, that same demeanour being mirrored right before his eyes. “We will discuss what to do later. You’ve been gone awhile, brother. Rest for a bit,” Rhys declared, and rested a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. A sliver of guilt snaked up Rhys’s spine when Azriel seemed to deflate slightly, as though he was prepared to go back into the field if he was ordered to. Azriel finally met the High Lord’s eyes, a silent thank you and apology all twisted into the gentle nod. We are grateful, Az,he whispered into his mind.

With that, Azriel left Feyre’s study. Walking the halls, Azriel debated saying hello to the members of his family that were in the River House. One would think that he would have been excited to see them. Typically, he would have. Though, this mission was particularly gruelling and with no result, the thought of disappointing anyone else on that day was the very last thing he wished to do. So, Azriel stopped in his tracks and winnowed to the House of Wind. Usually, he flew home so he could enjoy the sight of his home after a long mission like this but, it was an effort to keep his wings from dragging on the floor.

***

Steam billowed in the grand bathroom, so thick it was hard to determine where the steam began and Azriel's shadows ended. The aforementioned Illyrian warrior breathed a silent thanks to Nesta and her power for granting the House a consciousness. The bath was already drawn with various oils diffusing into the air by the time he left his knives down in his room. Slowly, Az began to peel his leathers from his aching body. Bit by bit, the articles fell away revealing the constellation of scars mixed with tattoos. Azriel stood bare before the mirror, studying the reflection before him. His eyes skimmed and paused a different points, though they were sure to keep clear of his hands. Scuffs of mud clung to Azriel's legs from the trenches he had to almost wade through, along with a few almost-healed scratches he acquired that morning. A few past battle wounds decorated his torso, the newest being from the arrow that had pierced his chest the day Nesta and Elain were Made. Averting his eyes, Azriel focused on his face instead. As if just taking his eyes away could take away from his failures of that day. Failing his High Lady and failing each of her two sisters was something that would take a few more years to be at peace with.

Azriel admittedly looked like shit. His hair was much longer than when he left, and he had done a few rough chops in the time that passed. Darkness underscored his eyes, and his skin looked like it had aged a few decades, if that was even possible. Azriel lowered himself into the almost blistering bath. A sigh loosed from deep within his chest, relief prickling across his skin like wildfire. Stretching his wings out in the water, his muscles relaxed from the weeks of pent of frustration. Azriel scrubbed gently, almost massaging his worn out body. The lavender and honey soap clung to the dips and bumps of his body. Gladness was all Azriel could feel. Finally, he felt like he was home. No disappointment or worry, just the pleasantness and serenity that Velaris promised. Azriel supposed the only thing that could possibly complete this scene would be a loving mate, massaging his scalp with her soft luscious legs wrapped around him from behind. Maybe she would kiss his neck, or whisper how much she loved him in his ear. The thought sent a rush of blood between his legs, arousal beginning to cloud Azriel's mind. Azriel gripped himself and began to pump slowly, thinking of how her body would push against his back. His head rolled back as he imagined her soft tits against his wings, her nipples grazing against the sensitive area close to the base. Suddenly, his hands were hers. Her fingers would be wrapped around his cock, stroking away his tough day as she kissed and nipped at his neck. Closer and closer, she would take him to the edge of ecstasy, running her thumb over the head of his cock. Shivers rippled through Azriel's body as he neared completion, his toes were curling as he felt his head became light. His mate would begin to lick at the spot on his neck that drove him wild, and her other hand would reach to lightly caress his wings. The thought of the sensation sent Azriel careening through his orgasm, spilling into the water around him.

With laboured breaths, Azriel got out of the bath. While he needed release, it seemed to highlight just how lonely he was feeling. How he wished the cauldron had blessed him with Elain that day, instead of matching her to Lucien. But alas, like always, he was not worthy of such a fate. Drying off, Azriel heard a slip of paper land on the vanity nearby. A letter from Rhys. Padding over to it, it read that there was a family dinner that evening to celebrate his return and have a discussion with everyone over what to do. Confirming his attendance, because with his dear brother it was always a choice, Azriel let the paper vanish into thin air. Until then, he was going to crawl into the mass of satin sheets and plush cushions that were seemingly screaming his name.

***

Rhysand or Feyre must have brought everyone else up to speed on Azriel's mission before he arrived because no one had asked about it and they were already three courses into dinner. He momentarily caught Feyre's eye, questioning her with a single glance. His High Lady merely winked and smiled, then returned her attention to the cooing babe in her arms. Trust Feyre to take care of their family in ways they didn't know they needed. Azriel allowed himself to sink in to the idle chatter, striking up a conversation with Nesta and Cassian, who looked as though they were about to have a domestic.

"I'm sure you'll be able to hold your own against me in a couple decades, Nes," Cassian teased and looked to Az for backup.

Nesta caught the bothers' exchange and directed her cutting glare to Azriel. "Well?" She calmly demanded, though like always, there was a cool fury ready to strike.

The Shadowsinger raised his arms, "Maybe when you can reanimate a skeleton and kill a Middengard Wrym with it, then perhaps you'd be able to hold your own against her," Azriel quipped, earning a satisfied humph from Nesta. Cassian chuckled, squeezing his mate's shoulder.

Mor, in true Morrigan fashion, used the allusion to recent events to bring up the topic that had been looming in the air since Azriel arrived. "So... how do you think we should tackle the escaped prisoner issue?" She asked everyone. Everyone halted their conversation, waiting to see what the others came up with. Azriel dipped his head slightly, embarrassed at his lack of answers.

Rhys sighed deeply, his brows knitting together. He kept his eyes trained on his hand, which was currently being toyed with by Nyx. He studied it for a moment, wishing he could be as innocent and oblivious as his son. "I was thinking that there might be one person left who would have the knowledge to track them," Rhys started. He was unsure, not enjoying the idea of what he was about to suggest.

Azriel seemed to catch on and he couldn't help the scoff and eyeroll. Elain looked between the two brothers, "What?" She asked, wariness prickling down her arms. Elain had never seen Az so tired and irritable than this evening. It had to be bad, for Azriel to act so animated compared to his usual demeanour.

"Nothing," Azriel nearly spat, "It's nothing because we are not going to see her."

A collective realisation occurred across the original members of the inner circle, and more confusion within the Archeron sisters. Everyone's reaction was different. Mor frowned, Amren remained unsurprisingly indifferent and Cassian puffed a breath out of his cheeks. "Amren, will you explain please?" Feyre asked, clearly not in the mood for dramatics.

"The 'her' they are referring to is a female gifted with a magic long since purged from this world," Amren explained. "She is known in this land as the Veil Whisperer. The Veil Whisperer has been known to exchange services in return for hefty bargains, some of which has left those who have availed worse off than before they struck the deal."

"This sounds like it is ill-advised," Elain replied, rubbing her hands over her arms.

"It is ill-advised," Azriel affirmed, sticking Rhys with a hard glare.

Squaring his shoulders, Rhys did not yield. "Does anyone have a better solution?" He asked everyone, though his eyes remained on Azriel's.

"I hate to say it, Az, but Rhys could be right. We are in under our heads here," Mor added. "I don't like it either, but what other options do we have?"

"Why don't we ask our friends in other courts? Maybe Helion could offer us something we don't have?" Nesta questioned.

"We didn't tell any of the other courts about Bryce's arrival or what she did when she was here. We would have to explain that in order to explain why we are in this predicament." Cassian's words breathed a sense of awareness across the table. Of course they couldn't ask for help. Not without creating tension and distrust with their friends and fraying what little lines they had with other courts.

"So we are on our own in this," Elain began tentatively. "If we do attempt to solicit this Veil Whisperer, who's to say she will accept the job?" Azriel felt gratitude towards the middle sister for the support.

"Rhysand has only had dealings with the Veil Whisperer on a very limited amount of issues. Each time, her price is different than what she is typically known for," Amren's voice was unforgiving.

"I have only heeded her services a handful of times, for very specific reasons," Rhys told the sisters, Nyx's eyes began to lull as he nestled into his mother's chest. "I asked her to hide my mother's ring in a place that would be hard to get it out of."

Feyre's lips straightened into a line, and she met Rhysand's eyes, and damn... if looks could kill, the High Lord would be dead five times over. "I thought you put the ring into the Weaver's cottage yourself," Feyre stated, a slight hiss in her tone as her jaw clenched.

Cassian had to conceal his grin as Rhys looked at Feyre apologetically. "Not exactly," his brother began, and a barely muffled snort erupted from the general. "You remember that my mother wanted it to be a challenge. The only person I thought could be creative enough to hide it would be her... and I was right," Rhys explained and shot his brother a glare, returned only by a smug Cheshire smile.

"So you let this Veil Whisperer do your dirty work then." Trust Nesta to not pass up the opportunity to gain the upper hand.

Cassian outright cackled at his mate's criticism, "Nes has got you there, brother!"

"No, Nesta," Rhys challenged. Things had not been completely amicable between Rhys and Nesta since she gave away the Mask to Bryce. "I do not let her do my dirty work. Let's not join in on discussions you couldn't possibly have any understanding on."

"Rhys," Feyre warned.

The warning went unheard, as Nesta tipped her chin -- a tell-tale sign that she was about to enter battle. "No, what understanding could I possibly have. Surely no one else in this room has superior knowledge to their High Lord," She spat. Tension began to thicken in the room, like a fine soup. "Well, unless that 'understanding' matches your own. Gods forbid anyone truly disagree with you... Rhys." Nesta's eyes narrowed and when she saw her words had hit their mark, a smirk tugged at her lips.

"Well, now that we're totally off topic," Mor drawled. "Anyone fancy another drink?"

"She's right," Feyre sighed. Rhysand broke his staring competition with Nesta, anger coiling in his gut. "We need to make a decision on if we are going to approach her or not."

"What price does she typically demand?" Elain questioned.

"For my mother's ring, she demanded a specific tea." Rhys looked at everyone but skipped over Nesta. "I thought she took mercy on me. But no, this tea comes from a particular plant that grows in the Bog of Oorid, and happens to be protected by the Kelpies." Everyone looked reasonably put-off, Nesta particularly whose mate pulled her hand into his own. "Not to mention that it is poisonous in its plant form so I had trek back to the Whisperer's dwelling feeling like death warmed up."

Elain frowned, her mind trickling through her knowledge to determine which plant could have possibly debilitated the High Lord of Night. "She didn't tell you that it would do that?" Elain already knew her answer.

"No," Azriel finally spoke. "The Veil Whisperer is a master of manipulation. Everything that leaves her mouth has an ulterior meaning. Lies hidden within lies. You won't know the truth unless she wants you to. Not telling Rhys about the tea was her way of showing that she can down him in ways he would never even think of, without even a touch of her magic. She is a snake and jumping into this with her is stupid," He finished with a grunt.

"Have you ever seen her magic?" Nesta asked the table.

To the sisters' surprise, everyone shook their head. Nesta raised a brow at Amren, thinking out of anyone she would have seen it. "I do not enter into bargains with the likes of her," Amren stated as though it was obvious. "And I have never been in her presence. She does not participate in war, under any circumstances. Though I have heard that she works with other... deities. A rumour, but a dangerous one to float in these lands." Everyone remained silent at that little bit of information, not entirely sure on how to digest it, let alone comment on it.

"All this being said... I don't see any other viable option," Mor declared. The lack of argument was agreement enough.

"So how should we go about this?" Feyre asked. She hated instances like these. As High Lady, she should be able to provide solutions for her friends and family but her overall lack of old age inhibited her in these niche situations.

"The Veil Whisperer lives in the Middle. Azriel and I will go there tomorrow and ask her if she wants the job."

Before Azriel could even protest his involvement, Amren cut in, "She will want this job. She will gain information that she can work to her advantage, and that says nothing of her asking price. Tread carefully, boy." The warning was not taken lightly. Rhys dipped his chin, though his mind seemed a million miles away.

Feeling his social battery wearing quicker than usual, Azriel declined any offer of further drinking and decided to return to the House of Wind. Though he gave the excuse of being tired, which he was, he caught the look in Elain's eyes. The look that screamed that she could see right through the excuse. Whether it was her seer abilities or that she had come to pick up on Azriel's subtle giveaways, he was unsure. Feeling the need to fly off some of his stress, Azriel made for one of the balconies. Though the aforementioned middle Archeron sister followed him to the terrace. "You don't have to go. You can stay and talk, if you wish." The kindness and observation rattled Azriel's chest. He had never experienced a female be so attentive and caring toward him before. Not one he also cared for anyways.

His shadows began reaching for Elain, slithering and weaving affectionately. "Thank you, Elain. I'm okay for now, I will sleep it off. But I appreciate the offer." Well, it meant something to him but that didn't mean her gesture was enough for him to emotionally offload onto her.

Frowning ever so slightly, Elain's shoes clicked on the polished marble as she shortened the gap between herself and the Shadowsinger. Gingerly, she reached for his gloved hand and squeezed gently. "I hope you know that I truly mean that. There is nothing so severe that it should be shouldered by you alone."

Azriel brushed her cheek with his free hand, unable to stop the smile that tugged on his lips. "And I truly appreciate that, thank you Elain. Your kindness is beautiful, I truly hope it never pales." He said by way of a goodbye and backed away from her blushing face, stretching his wings. He could tell she wanted to stop him but he launched himself from the balcony before she had the courage to respond. Azriel felt like an ass, pushing her away when she was trying. He often found himself slipping under Elain's spell of sweetness and beauty, yet something in the back of his mind always reeled him back to reality. He desperately wished it wouldn't, he ached for the companionship both his brothers had. Though it seemed the Mother had different plans for Azriel... if she has any at all Azriel often thought to himself.

Azriel pushed all thoughts from his head and soared higher and higher, testing his limits as the air thinned around him and became harder to fly through. Up and up, closer and closer. Then, his wings stilled and curled around him. The descent was vicious, the earth was pulling Azriel down with a fury. The air whipped past the Shadowsinger, and finally, his mind felt empty. In that moment, Azriel was nothing more than a drop of rain from a cloud, falling from grace. Opening his eyes, the lights that dusted Velaris like golden glitter inched nearer. And just as they went from specks of stardust on the ground to discernible buildings and faelights dotted along the river, Azriel finally opened his wings and levelled off. Adrenaline coursed through his blood and finally shook the cobwebs that felt adhered to his bones. Azriel soared across the sky, allowing his thoughts and feelings to ebb and flow through him.

And when he eventually touched down, Azriel felt prepared for tasks laid out before him. Felt prepared to come face-to-face with the Veil Whisperer.

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar azriel #morrigan acotar #cassian acotar #amren acotar #cc hofas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #acotar fandom #a court of silver flames #nessian #elain archeron

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elysianfiction · 1 year

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“Child of misfortune, hear thy cry. Left to burn, left to die.”

The Edge of Dawn is a high fantasy story set in Niflven, a world blessed by an apparent peace on the brim of collapse. You awaken in the midst of a most peculiar event, hands reaching out toward the distant skies as you’re swallowed whole by the pitch black darkness of the ocean.

An unusual encounter, unknown allies, nothing left to lose but your life. Left with no memories, you’ll soon find yourself thrown into a war that transcends time. Do you believe in fate?

A fully customizable MC.

Romance, friendship and plenty of banter.

Uncover the mystery surrounding your very existence.

Discover a whimsical world of wonders as you try to unveil the mystery surrounding your very life.

Travel along with a merry band of outcasts as you ponder where your loyalties lie.

Evade the Empire’s watchful eye or not. The choice is up to you.

The rating is set tentatively as 18+!

Julian: the mysterious captain of the Scarlet Eagle, a fearless man who hides one too many secrets behind a charming smile. Is that easygoing attitude of his all there is?

Anastasia: the charming princess and heir to the throne of Urwos, a dedicated woman with a heart of gold. Praised from kingdom to kingdom for her gentle nature, longs for… what exactly?

Nyx: leader of the Order of Wolves, the fearsome woman tasked with the protection of Sorathia. Neighboring kingdoms most of all know the extent of her strength. Sharp as a thorn, haunted by ghosts of the past.

Ronan: king of Agartha, an evasive man which keeps to his kingdom. Known for his terrifying strength, he reigns over Agartha from the solitude of his palace. The only man who’s kept the Emperor at bay so far.

Nikolai: the mysterious captain of the Stag, the empire’s elite army. Seemingly impassible and focused on serving his lord, you’ll soon find out nothing is like it seems. What lies at the end of a fateful encounter?

Maeve: a powerful sorceress, whose idealistic ways landed her in a less than ideal predicament. Able to help shift the tides of fate, she has the Empire’s watchful eye on her at all times.

Frey: a mystery yet to be uncovered.

Demo // Ko-fi.

#interactive fiction #if wip #twine #twine wip #if #pinned #finally the new pinned o7

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maryhale1 · 3 months

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The Night 🌚 NYX

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

In shadows deep, where night does reign,

Goddess Nyx, a celestial bane.

Stars her jewels, the moon her guide,

In darkness, beauty shall abide.

A tapestry of dreams unfurls,

As Nyx, the cosmic fabric swirls.

Cloaked in mystery, veiled in grace,

She weaves the threads of time and space.

Silent whispers in the dark,

Her presence leaves a mystic mark.

Nocturnal queen, with power vast,

In Nyx's embrace, shadows cast.

A symphony of shadows, a ballet of the night,

Goddess Nyx, in celestial flight.

In cosmic dance, her essence weaves,

An ode to her, the night receives.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Changing Shadows (Part 24 - Finale)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel just had a steamy encounter in the House of Wind – but you knew it had to be your last. What you weren’t prepared for, was how much it would hurt...

Please enjoy this finale to Changing Shadows!! It’s full of angst and fluff 🦇 💔☁️I hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I did writing it, I so appreciate all the support along the way 💕

Image by koike9023

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of smut

Word count: 2,310

Part 24:

∇

You redressed quickly, finding your clothes scattered across the floor. You promised yourself this was the last time, and you meant it.

Azriel pulled his slacks up, his chest still bare when he turned to you.

“Why can’t we?” he asked softly.

“Pardon?” you asked back, surprised by his question.

“Why can’t we do ‘what it is that we do’,” he quoted your from earlier.

You sat on the chaise, your arms gripping the base as if trying to hold on as you prepared for how much this conversation would hurt. “You know why, Az.”

“We could be more,” he whispered.

“Not without hurting our family, not without putting them in danger.” You couldn't help the well of tears that built as you tried to explain.

“Rhys risked everything he had to give me a good life,” you continued. “And even after fifty years under Amarantha’s reign, he would have given an eternity just to keep us safe. I cannot impose any more risk to our family, our court, especially now with Nyx. Not after everything he has sacrificed. I owe him my life.”

Azriel nodded, looking away as he blinked quickly. “I respect your devotion to him, Y/N,” he swallowed, trying to smile. But you caught the pain in his hazel eyes.

You reached out and kissed his hands, tears now falling freely you as your heart broke at the reality of your own words.

“Please, Y/N, please don't cry,” Azriel begged, gentle thumbs wiping away your tears.

“I hate that I hurt you,” you sniffed.

“I hate that I’m hurting you back,” he replied.

Your heart was bleeding from the inside. This had gone on for too long. You had grown to love him too much, and you couldn't bare the pain any longer.

“I can't do this anymore Az.”

Azriel stayed quiet, waiting for you to explain.

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t care for your the way I really do, even if it is to keep our family safe.”

His eyebrows pulled in pain as he stroked your hair in comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him now, sucking in a tight breath. You knew what you needed to do.

“I need to go. For good.”

The loneliness would ruin you, but you would do it. You could continue to serve and protect your family away from home.

Azriel's head snapped down to you, his face torn. “What do you mean go?”

“I can’t pretend any longer, Az. I need leave, I need to –”

“Please, please Y/N. Don’t leave,” Azriel’s voice broke as he knelt down to your level, his hands tightening around yours.

“I can't hurt like this any longer Az. It’s killing me,” you cried, your own voice breaking.

Azriel’s closed his eyes shut as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Then I’ll go,” he whispered.

“What? No!”

“You shouldn't be the one to leave, Y/N, this is your home, and Rhys is your brother–“

“As he is yours. And this is your home just as much as mine”

“It’s not the same.”

There was silence between you.

“Your devotion to your brother and the Night Court is pure, Y/N, I will not get in the way of that. And if me being here hurts you so, I will leave. And when you’re ready – if you’re ready – I’ll come back, whenever and however you want.”

You swallowed, and your heart ached. “That is not what I want.”

“But it’s what you need,” Azriel replied. You didn't say anything, your silence agreeing for you. This was happening so fast.

“I will speak to Rhys about some long-distance missions.”

Tears flowed from you at the thought.

Stop him! your heart thundered. Say no! You shook your head, shaking the impulse away as you continued to cry.

A soft hand stroked your face. “I will always do what’s best for you, remember Y/N?”

You blinked up at Azriel, his gentle eyes trying to mask his own pain.

“I’m sworn to protect you, even if that means from your own heart.”

And then he was gone. The gust from Azriel’s winnow blew through your hair as you were left in the still of the room, silence the only comfort to you as you cried.

————

It was only a few hours later that you found yourself pacing the House of Wind. Your heart throbbed in an anxious need for Azriel, his distance already too painful for you to bare. What had you done?

You couldn’t handle it anymore. The torture it was to love this male. From the flirting, to the amazing sex, to the genuine love and respect you had for each other, only to have to give it all up for your family.

It was excruciating, and you finally admitted it to yourself. You clung to the pillows of the chaise, unable to stop your painful cries.

Suddenly, you were struggling to breath between sobs. You needed air.

Pushing through to the terrace, you braced the railing as you took a in deep breath of night, trying to calm yourself as tears continued to spill down your cheeks.

“Y/N?” Rhys asked from behind you.

Fuck. You hadn’t noticed he was at the house.

“I was coming to check in on you. What happened? Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t tell him the truth. You couldn’t let him know how much it hurt you to sacrifice your love for Azriel, not after the promises you had made to your brother to protect him – just as he had done for you.

You wiped your eyes, doing your best to keep your voice even.

“No, I’m not hurt,” you threw over your shoulder. “I just needed some air.”

You turned and started to make your way back inside as quickly as you could. You could not face him right now.

Stop, Rhys said in your mind.

You halted – it was extremely difficult to fight against that talon of power.

Turn, he ordered.

Clenching your jaw, you spun to face him. You looked anywhere but in his eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” he said out loud. You raised your eyes to him, tears brimming once again. Your brothers face was soft with concern.

“Come here,” he patted the space next to him on the outdoor he now sat on. You breathed, forcing yourself to walk over and sit.

“Talk to me” Rhys said, frowning in concern.

You felt a wave of emotion rise in you – feelings of love and rejection washing over as you started to sob into your hands.

You and Azriel could never love each other properly. And it broke your heart.

“It’s Azriel,” you managed to get out.

Rhys placed a gentle hand on your back, rubbing soothingly. He waited, patiently listening.

“I never want to disappoint you Rhys,” you whispered, head buried in your hands.

“You could never disappoint me,” he replied.

You swallowed, trying to gain some control. “But I will, because I, well, I-“

“You love him?” Rhys offered, a coy smile on his face.

You looked at him now, breathing, blinking once, twice. “Yes,” you admitted. So he knew.

“Of course I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Azriel asked me not to,” he shrugged. You could have killed him for his casualness as he draped one long leg over the over.

You stood up, pacing in front of him. What did he mean Azriel asked him not to?

“So, you’re not... angry?”

Rhys levelled a look at you. “Of course I’m not angry.”

“When you and Azriel visited Feyre and I at the River House – the day before you met with the healers – Az asked to see me privately,” Rhys explained. You remembered Azriel and Rhys making their way outside for a private conversation.

“He confessed he had suspected a bond between you two for quite sometime, but felt he couldn’t act on it. He was confused as to what it meant, saying his love had changed from when you were younger. He felt he was betraying his duties to me if he was to act on it.”

You stayed silent, staring at your brother. So this is what they talked about.

“He then said he was sorry if he was crossing a line, but he loved you so much that he would risk his position in the Night Court just for a chance to be with you.”

Your heart began to race. “He never spoke to me of this,” you said softly, your mind racing to catch up with what Rhys’s was telling you.

Your heart throbbed at the thought of Azriel keeping the bond a secret, all the while waiting for you to realise it too. Gods, it must have killed him to agree to work away from home.

“Azriel asked me not to say anything, and told me he would wait for you to feel the bond yourself. It was important to him that it was your decision to love him, not just because the bond willed it. He always wanted you to have the choice Y/N, to always have the option to say no.”

Your nodded slowly as things finally made sense. So that’s what he meant that he was sworn to protect you from your own heart. He hadn’t even confessed after you told him you could never be together – he let you choose your family over him.

Rhys continued his explanation. “Azriel then kneeled at my knees, swore to always love and protect you, and asked for my blessing should you choose to love him back.”

Tears started to stream down your face again. That male. That honourable, loving, selfless male. He truly was the love of your life.

“And?” you said, eyes pleading with hope.

“And,” Rhys continued, “I said that I couldn’t imagine more deserving people to find love in each other. That I was delighted two of the people I love most in this world had found one another, and would always have my blessing.”

You swallowed, overwhelmed by the enormity if his words. “But brother…,” your voice was barely a whisper. “My duties-“

“Your duties should never get in the way of love, Y/N. And I’ll be damned if they stop a mating bond from snapping into place.” Rhys was frowning at you now. “It pains me to hear you thought you had to give that up.”

You let out a soft cry. “I owe you my life, Rhys.”

“Sister,” Rhys said softly, his face one of shock. “You owe me nothing but commitment to your own happiness.”

You rushed at your brother, jumping into his arms with a cry. You were so relieved, so thankful for his words that you ached with joy.

“Thank you brother,” you kissed his cheek, unable to stop the flow of happy tears that now stained your cheeks.

“You do not need to thank me, sis,” he smiled down at you. “I love you, and I always want you to be happy.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes.

“He’s patrolling the Rainbow if you’d like to find him,” Rhys winked at you.

You laughed, giving Rhys one more kiss on the cheek before turning to the edge of the terrace, wings extending as you leapt to find your love, and confess what you’ve known for a long time.

--------

You found Azriel perched atop a high building, looking down at the twinkling lights of the bustling riverside shops.

You landed gently behind him, and he turned around to you, his face shocked as he took in the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, standing now. He sensed the difference in your energy, your scent as you stood there, staring at the love of your life with fresh eyes.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Azriel’s face was now concerned.

You couldn't help the smile that formed as you walked towards him. Azriel matched your pace before you both paused at a distance.

A warm longing brewed in the depths of your heart, and that familiar tether of rope pulled in your stomach. You knew the reason you couldn’t stop thinking of him, never wanted to stop making love, and what made you both feral in jealousy. It was the feeling of coming home.

“Mate,” you said.

Azriel’s eyes widened, shocked to hear you say it. His face quickly changed to an expression of hope.

“You’re my mate,” you started to smile.

Azriel’s eyes began to well with tears as his eyebrows bunched in relief. You had finally said out loud.

You placed a hand on your heart as it beat and ached – now free to feel his love.

“You’re. My. Mate,” you beamed, taking a few steps closer to him.

“And you are mine,” Azriel swallowed, his voice breaking. “If you’ll have me,” he added shyly.

You ran to him and jumped into his arms as they wrapped across your waist, spinning you around. You brushed his jaw with a soft handand closed your mouth over his, kissing him deeply.

“I wish to have you everyday for the rest of my existence,” you said down at him, kissing him again through the smile you couldn't not control.

You felt his own tears against your cheeks as he pulled you in tighter.

“I love you beyond words Y/N,” he said. “I will give you the world.”

You kissed him harder, soaking him in. You could feel the bond between you forming, growing, a warm, delightful feeling binding you together.

“I love you too,” you beamed, running your fingers through his dark hair. “More than anything.”

Azriel’s face was unlike anything you had ever seen. Your beautiful and selfless mate had finally found true love, his happiness swirling in his hazel eyes as he stared at you, holding you closer.

“Now, are you hungry?” you winked.

You would cook a meal for him. And you would be mated. And you would spend the rest of your lives together, never hiding your love again.

THE END.

--------

AN: Ok, I’m shedding a few tears of my own posting this finale. These two FINALLY got the love they deserve.

Thank you SO MUCH for all the support on Changing Shadows. It has been so exciting to write and publish this story, and the best part is chatting to you guys about it. I can’t wait to do it again with fresh ideas and content.

I’ll be back out with the start of my Lucien series and some one-shots in the coming days. If you’d like to join my general tag list, just let me know :)

I love you guys, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Tags: @slvtherinseeker@judig92@kennedy-brooke@hyacinthoideshispanica@brekkershadowsinger@its-me-meg@acotar-thirst@5moremin@honeyrydernot@azzydaddy @lucyysthings@highladyofillyria@paasrin@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@littleshopofwhoress@blurredlamplight@hanasakr@bookish-dream@fall-myriad@aistheamazing@jazmin2211 @xenlynn @iangelofmusic @hades4life@solossweater @whatupmydudes01 @mybbyfeyre @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @georgiastars13 @psychobookaholic @theravenphoenix26 @juiceboxreads @itscaitymoore @norse-witch24 @mis-lil-red @timecharm

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fourteentrout · 4 days

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Acotar Hot Take Time (Again)

Rhys' whole "Everything I love has a tendency to be taken away from me" thing is often lauded as one of the most sentimental, empathetic lines from the book. rhys stans seem genuinely moved by it, even now that more books in the series have come out.

and I think...it's kind of bullshit?

not that people find the sentiment in it, you can like what you like, but the actual claim itself is bullshit.

rhys lost his mother, father, and sister, and I will not deny that it was tragic and traumatizing. by extension, he lost his close friend Tamlin because of his betrayal.

but like...what else? Now that he's been living in his Court after UTM and everyone has moved on from his Evil Guy schtick, tell me, what "everything" is he talking about? He protected velaris, which seems to be the only territory in the Night Court he really cares about. Even when it was attacked, he was able to renew it with seemingly no struggle. he has his entire original inner circle. this guy has like. 5 houses. his Court is intact and thriving (at least, the part of it he cares the most about).

Yes, he was separated from his family for 49 years, but he didn't LOSE them. they were there the whole time, they were there when he got back.

but like, it would be even more obvious if we had an example of someone in the series who ACTUALLY lost everything, right? with no one to compare his experiences to, maybe it really DOES seem like everything he loves has a tendency to be taken from him.

Oh wait. there is an example. Tamlin.

Tamlin lost the exact same things at the same time as Rhys: his immediate family, and his best friend.

But where rhys' loss kind of stagnated, Tamlin's continued once the curse was placed on his Court. His sentries, his friends, sacrificed themselves to help him, to the point where he literally had to stop them from going out because he was overwhelmed with the grief of losing his friends over and over for seemingly NO REASON (as they weren't getting anywhere with the curse. To him, they were giving up their lives for a lost cause.) and unlike with seemingly every member of the Night Court, these guys weren't magically coming back to life. By the time Feyre gets to Spring, the only close remaining friend Tamlin has is Lucien.

And guess what? he lost him, too! feyre left him, and she was valid in doing so, but she TORE HIS COURT APART in the process. she literally fucked with the minds of his new sentries to get them to not trust him, and to get him to not trust them. hell, she made it so he didn't trust the one friend he had left. he fought in the war and his court fell into disrepair because all of his guards LEFT. even after they fought by his side. that's how lasting feyre's impression on the Court was.

Spring was literally abandoned.

So like...let's compare. Rhys has: Cassian, his general and brother, Azriel, his spymaster and brother, Mor, his cousin and third, Amren, his second, Feyre, his mate, wife, and High Lady, Nyx, his son, and his City of Starlight.

He doesn't have: The illyrian and darkbringer troops that died in the war (though there's not much mention of them, save for the illyrians. both nations seem to be pretty removed from Rhys' mind as it is), his mother, his father, and his sister (all of which remain unnamed??? for some reason???), and Tamlin

Tamlin has: maybe some citizens left?? we don't really know. alis?? she went back to the summer court, if I remember correctly, but I could be wrong.

Tamlin doesn't have: Feyre (who, mind you, he already lost once before when he literally watched her die), Lucien (parted ways), Rhys (parted ways), Andras (deceased), all of the unnamed sentries that died during Amarantha's reign, his literal current, living guards (parted ways), his unnamed mother, father, and brothers (all deceased), any kind of love interest (nevermind a mate) (just straight up nonexistent), hell, he even lost Ianthe (deceased). she deserved it, but to him, for the longest time she was just his childhood friend that he TRUSTED. so first he lost her to her own treachery, and then she literally died, presumably without him ever being able to properly confront the fact that she wasn't who he'd thought before she was murdered. he lost troops in the war, and then he lost the living ones to the effects of feyre's destruction of their trust. by Silver Flames, he literally has NOTHING.

I don't know. just knowing all that and re-reading Rhys' line about getting the things he loves taken from him makes me...kind of think that SJM doesn't really know the meaning of having everything taken from someone. cause to me, it really looks like Rhys has...a LOT. like yes, he's experienced loss, but when you have someone like Tamlin, whose Court as far as we know is ABANDONED, it kind of negates the argument before it can even be made.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar hot take #acotar rant #tamlin acotar #tamlin a court of thorns and roses #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys a court of thorns and roses #sjm critical #acotar critical #inner circle critical

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acourtofladydeath · 18 days

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Poly+ ACOTAR Week Day 1: Beginnings

All his life Nyx has been raised by his parents, Rhysand and Feyre, and their mate Tamlin. One day he decides to ask him mom how their bonds snapped and she is more than happy to oblige.

Inspired by the storytelling in "The Princess Bride" and "How I Met Your Mother" this is angsty, fluffy fun.

So excited to kick off the first day of @polyacotarweek with one of my favorite trios, Feytamsand. Start reading below, or read the entire fic on AO3 here!

“Mom!” I shouted through the hall of the River House. It was her day off, which probably meant she was painting. The River House had a state of the art studio for her to work in, but she typically painted wherever inspiration struck. Which means she could be anywhere.

The house was entirely too large. Something I loved growing up when I wanted to hide, but hated when I needed to find them. Sure, we could mind speak, but once I walked in on my parents having daemati sex, something I literally didn't know existed before then. After that, I refused to communicate that way unless there was an emergency.

“In here Nyxie!” She called back from the library at the end of the hall. It had a huge window overlooking the Sidra and sunset. Throughout the day light cast through the window, ricocheting through the room. As it traveled it glanced across the wide array of books, some gilded and some plain, painting the floor in its own way. With the kaleidoscope of colors and dancing light, it was one of mom’s favorite spots to paint. Aunt Nes spent most of her time here when she visited, but today it was just mom.

“What’s up, baby?” Mom said as I walked in. Covered head to toe in paint, she turned to look at me and wiped even more on her apron and one of her mate’s old shirts. Now which one, I wasn’t quite sure. But judging by those giant, billowy sleeves and the gauzy white linen fabric I had a pretty good guess.

“I’m not a baby anymore,” I scoffed from the doorway. There was no way I’d get any closer to her like this. Last time she hugged me while painting it took three baths to get it all off and my clothes had to be burned.

“Nyx you are thirteen, you are definitely still my baby. Even a hundred years from now you’ll still be my baby. I’m your mother, that’s how it goes.” She smiled softly at me then, one of those smiles that told me she was thinking about the past and the future all at once. They were my favorites.

“What did you need? Or did you just want to watch me paint?” My mom asked, slight worry in her eyes. I’d never been great at schooling my expressions like dad was, mom and I had that in common. We both wore our emotions on our sleeves for all to see.

I sighed, settling in to ask the question that had been gnawing at me for some time now. “One of the kids at school said something today that bothered me,” I rubbed at the muscles in the back of my neck with one hand, my gaze cast down on the floor as I tried to find the right words.

It took me several long breaths, but mom waited patiently even as I felt her own anxiety build. “They said…” I let out a long sigh, there really was no good way to say this. “They said it’s not fair that I have two High Lords for parents, or for you to have two mates. And it’s not the first time, either.”

Mom wrung her apron uneasily between her paint streaked hands, her art now completely forgotten as she focused on me. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this love. We knew people might say things like this, Nyx. I wish I had better answers for you, but the Mother gave your fathers and I each two mates.” She looked up at me with apology in her eyes, something I never intended and didn’t need to hear from her again. “I never wanted it to affect you negatively though.”

“I know mom, and I know we’ve talked it to death.” I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “It’s just still a lot, you know?” A thought struck me then. I knew my parents were all mates, I knew they’d met around the time of Amarantha’s reign under the mountain. We’d had a lot of conversations that time so I wasn’t caught off guard if other kids or parents mentioned it, but still…

“How’d you all find out anyway?”

Mom cocked her head slightly to the side, her brow furrowed just a bit. “What do you mean?”

“How’d you find out you’re all mates? I mean, we’ve talked about the mountain and how you met them, but I’ve never really heard the full story of how your bonds snapped.”

A secretive smile slid across her face then, and my mom straightened her head toward me. “Would you like to hear the full story? I think you’re old enough now.”

“Only if you promise to spare the gross bits…” I said, internally cringing as the unbidden image of mentally walking in on them flashed through my mind again. Fighting back a shudder at the memory I continued, "But I am pretty curious.” I smiled slightly, and her own brightened wide enough to light the whole room.

“Are you too old to sit on mom’s lap for story time? I can change out of my paint clothes first, I know you’ve taken after your dad with how much you care for your clothes.” she asks, humor alight in her words.

I feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks as I answer. “Definitely too old for sitting on your lap…but maybe not for the couch…” She knew what I meant. When I had bad dreams or hard days at school, sometimes I’d lay on the couch, head in her lap. It felt too juvenile to use the word ‘cuddles’ but I guess that’s what it was. A kid’s allowed to cuddle his mom right?

A few minutes later, mom was back wearing leggings and one of her favorite sweaters. She sat on the couch next to the big window in the library and patted the seat next to her, warmth filling the space between us. I pushed off the wall from where I stood and went to join her. As I settled in, she began her story. “Alright Nyx, let’s start from the beginning. Here’s the story of how I met your fathers.”

Continue reading at the first cut on AO3.

Please let me know if you would like off or on my taglist!: @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing

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thefangirlofhp · 7 months

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9. fortune

“What would I do if I had a fortune?” Cassian repeats, a little bemused, pausing his fork spearing a hard-boiled egg halfway towards his mouth in the air.

Nyx bobs his head and kicks his feet beneath his chair rhythmically.

“Well,” Cassian puts down his food, and blinks roughly before staring off for a moment. “I’d spend it on my family. Go on holiday and do anything to my heart’s content.”

Nyx’s upper lip curls up mildly before his eyes turn to his aunt with her book propped up before her plate against the salt and pepper shakers, idly stirring her oats while the pages turn on their own.

“What about you, Aunt Nesta?” Nyx prods, poking his eggs and sausages with a disinterested fork.

“Hide it away, put a fierce monster to guard it and spin a tall legend about its contents,” Nesta replies instantly without thinking twice. “It will be the first time in history someone is ever disappointed in discovering gold.”

“Hm,” Nyx twists his mouth, mulling over her answer—quite more interesting than Cassian’s, that is for certain. But modest: his aunt’s idea of a fortune is gold that fits in a treasure chest. Admirable, but disappointing. One would be excused in thinking that a Valkyrie would have higher ambitions. Still, he likes the idea of putting a fierce monster on guard.

“What about you?” Cassian asks. “What would you do with a fortune?”

Nys draws in a long, long breath.

“..and I’ll buy all the ships in the world and fill them up with my armies and then go searching all over the world for the dragons and I’d buy a fire-breathing dragon that could cover Prythian with its wing and then I could buy the continents and eat all the sweets in the world because I’d have it all and no-one else but my friends and I’d—”

“Who put two coins in the idiot?” Azriel interrupts his rant, striding into the dining room with his leathers and blue siphons. He rubs Nyx’s head in passing before sitting down next to him.

“Good morning, Uncle Az,” Nyx greets, beaming. “I slept over here tonight.”

“Yeah,” Azriel glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, raising his brow high. “I heard the three wishes you’d ask a genie and remembered I have an assignment.”

“Well you missed out on a lot of fun,” Nyx says, as a matter-of-fact. “Nesta told me so many stories they were all I could dream about, and Uncle Cassian and I fought with pillows and I struck him down and—”

“Try this toast, Nyx,” Azriel doesn’t give him a chance to agree, before he sticks a piece of toast with honey into his mouth. “Chew it really good now.”

By the time Nyx swallows, silence has reigned heavily for quite some while now. Cassian is a little bleary-eyed, constantly blinking and rubbing his eyes. Nyx did stay up well past his bedtime, with his aunt and uncle, and he’s even slept in but Cassian was awake before he was. Nyx didn’t see the sense in it, per se, but had no idea about internalized clocks and sleep-schedules that forced someone out of bed even with less-than-optimal sleep hours.

Azriel, however, whose eyes seem to have taken on a permanent shade of redness and exhaustion, has no notions of any clock whatsoever. Nyx has seen him sleep standing up one day, his arms folded and leaning against the wall while Father was tearing into him for something. Nyx has seen his uncle stay awake for seven consecutive days without a fault in his step. His uncle is interesting—a far cry from what Mother would cite as the inspirational model, but he has seen things.

“What I’d do with a fortune?” Azriel mulls over the answer as he butters his bread. “I already have one.”

Nyx blinks. “A bigger one. Like—like really huge fortune.”

Azriel lowers his bread and looks out the archways and the streaming sunlight inside. Tilts his head. “Buy the most powerful spell a witch could make and fall asleep for eternity.”

Nyx blinks. And then again.

What a disappointment.

“What?” Azriel frowns at the judgmental look he receives. “I have a fortune I don’t use, it sits in the bank and I use it to buy expensive gifts for people who don’t look twice at them. What’s the use with more?”

Nyx sighs and turns back to his breakfast shaking his head. “Aunt Elain at least gave an interesting answer.”

All three heads turn to him instantly.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Apparently having a fortune meant she would no longer need anything as long as it was the good kind of fortune. She’s part of my plan, actually, to take over the universe.”

Nesta snorts. “Good luck with that. Teatime will roll by and your aunt will be abandoning everything for cake and a cup of tea.”

#fictober 2023 #fluff #nyx archeron #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #azriel

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sarahs-library · 5 months

Text

Come to Solstice with me?

A/N - This is a cheesy Christmas movie trope Az/Reader fic that absolutely nobody asked for that I just couldn't help myself from writing.

Word Count: 1700

Part Two

Your POV

You tapped your foot in time to the beat, eyeing the patrons as they swept across the sticky floor. You raised a hand to the bartender when he looked in your direction, motioning to your empty glass before turning back to observe the room as he began making you another drink. You’d only been waiting fifteen minutes, but the room was stifling from the heat of so many bodies packed inside. The bartender set down a glass of wine next to the tumbler of whiskey, ice already beginning to melt, and you slid a few coins across the counter and thanked him, words lost mostly over the raucous music.

Craning your neck towards the open doors of the patio you tried to find seats where you wouldn’t be jostled every time someone tried to order a drink. You spied an empty table and began to move, weaving in between the drunken revellers on the dance floor whilst trying to keep the drinks in your hands from spilling. Crossing the threshold into the cool night air was a relief. Solstice celebrations were in full swing, even if the day itself was still over a week away, and most bars and restaurants in the Day Court were packed late into the night. You settled down onto the bench to wait, pleasantly surprised that the magic that heated the bar seemed to extend to where you were sitting. You sipped your wine and watched the fae mingling in the streets under the festive lights.

“Sorry I’m late, I got tied up. Were you waiting long?” The voice came out of the shadows behind you as a gloved hand squeezed your bicep in greeting. You turned, smiling up at Azriel as he moved around you to take a seat on the bench opposite. You nudged the tumbler of whiskey across the table to him as you shrugged.

“Long enough to be a drink in Az, next round is yours.” He inclined his head, a small smile on his lips as he sipped at the whiskey. You’d only seen him a handful of times since the war, he stopped by whenever he was passing through on business for Rhysand, if his schedule allowed it. You’d enjoyed the opportunity to rekindle your friendship, almost fifty years of no contact during Amarantha’s reign had left you missing the shadowsinger’s company.

Azriel gestured to the table and the glass in front of you. “I’m surprised you didn’t just get a bottle, no plans of dancing on tables this evening?” You rolled your eyes at the jibe but couldn’t help the smile that bubbled to your lips.

“I blame Rhys for that.”

“As you should, he’s always been a bad influence.” Under the fae light Azriel’s face looked relaxed, something you hadn’t seen in centuries. He certainly looked better than the last time you’d seen him, broodier than usual and knocking back whiskies almost as fast as you could pour them. He hadn’t said much that evening, just enjoying the companionable silence you’d provided before falling into a deep slumber on the sofa.

“How is everyone?”

“Good, Nyx is getting so big now, he’s becoming a bit of a handful. It’ll get even worse once he can fly by himself.” He smiled as he recalled some memory of his nephew. You’d met the babe once, and even though you weren’t a fan of children when he fixed you with a toothy smile you’d been smitten. You’d joked with Rhys that he was going to be even more successful with the females than he’d been in his youth.

“And the others?”

“Cassian and Nesta are making real progress with the Valkyries, they’ve even got a few of the females from the camp taking part in the training sessions.” You smiled at the thought, Cassian had been championing for an aerial unit of female Illyrians since Rhys had become High Lord, it seemed with Nesta at his side he was finally making the progress he’d always talked about. “Mor’s still in the continent, enjoying playing emissary but from her letters it seems she’s mostly just indulging the sights and local cuisine.”

“That sounds more like her.”

“She’s coming back for Solstice, everyone is. Even Lucian and Elain.” You nodded, not sure if you should push on that particular door yet. He’d told you what Rhys had said, how he’d ordered Azriel to stay away from the middle Archeron sister in the name of Court relations. She’d fled the city, after calling him a coward for not fighting for their budding relationship, ending up in the human lands and the waiting arms of her mate.

“And you? How have you been?” You knew Azriel well enough to see through his blatant diversion but didn’t comment.

“Good, we’ve been making some real progress Under the Mountain. Amarantha had all kinds of tomes hidden, some of them not even from Prythian. I enjoyed getting my hands on those very much.” Azriel nodded, draining the last of his drink. “I think we’ve finally found the last of it though. There’s still so much missing, but it hasn’t been as bad as we originally feared.”

“And your research?”

You sighed, swirling the last of the wine at the bottom of your glass. The thesis you’d been writing before Amarantha had turned Prythian upside down and the war had come had taken a backseat. Especially with the death of your family, you hadn’t found the enthusiasm to continue your work.

“I haven’t thought about it much. There’s still time though.” Caramel eyes watched your face, always assessing. You didn’t sound convincing, even to your own ears. But he offered you the same courtesy and allowed you to change the subject without prying.

“Will you see your mother this Solstice?”

Azriel shook his head; a gloved finger traced the rim of his glass. “Her and Clay have decided to spend Solstice with his family this year.” You knew he was happy for her, to find her partner all those years ago, especially as he’d helped her get out from underneath his father’s thumb whilst Azriel had been sequestered away in the war camps unable to visit.

“Do you have plans?”

“I’ve got a few offers, nothing concrete yet though. I might just spend the opportunity to get ahead with work.” You’d had a few invitations from various friends to spend Solstice with them, and an invite to Helion’s annual ball, but you’d struggled with the holiday since the death of your family. It had been easier in the aftermath of the war, everyone still grieving in one way or another, but now that the people of Prythian seemed intent on celebrating with excess at every given opportunity you weren’t sure if you could stomach the celebration.

Azriel adjusted himself in his seat, leaning a little closer across the table. His wings flared slightly behind him before he tucked them closer to his back. You considered him, waiting for him to speak but he just continued to watch you.

“What?” He opened his mouth, seemingly unable to get the words out. He shook his head, leaning away from you again. You stopped watching him, instead looking over his shoulder and into the street below.

“Actually I-,” he paused, noting your empty glasses. “I’ll grab another round.” He stood abruptly, shadows trailing in his wake as he headed for the door back into the bar. You watched in amusement as the drunk fae inside scrambled out of the path of the hulking Illyrian figure and his teeming shadows. He’d certainly have more success getting to the bar than you did earlier.

He returned quickly, shadows brushed against you as he laid the fresh drinks on the table and took his seat again. He gulped down his drink, setting his empty glass down before you’d even clutched at the stem of your own.

“I need a favour.” His face was serious, barely visible through the throng of shadows caressing his form, roiling up his shoulders and coiling like a second set of Illyrian tattoos on the skin of his neck.

“A favour?” You tried to keep the shock from your voice, it was very uncharacteristic of Azriel to ask for anything so openly. “Name it.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head. A gloved hand rubbed against his temple.

“You don’t even know what it is.” You leaned forward to snatch at the hand he’d left on the table, squeezing the warm leather underneath your fingers. You were so close that you could see the veins of green that ran through the brown of his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter Az. We’re friends, I’ll always do whatever I can to help you.” He smiled at that, a genuine smile. Something so rare from Azriel that the flash of his teeth in the fae light made your heart clench.

“Come to Solstice with me.” You smiled back at him then, bemused at the request.

“That’s it? Az, you don’t need to call in a favour for me to spend time with you all.”

“It’s not just that,” for a moment he seemed to disappear into the shadows entirely before he reigned in his emotions. “Mor and Emery will be there together, Elain’s bringing Lucian. And of course, there’s the others. I’ll be the only-“ his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. But you heard what he didn’t voice.

“You’ll be the only person there alone.” You understood that, not just the desire for companionship but to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance amidst the festivities. You were searching for that too. You knew that attending the holiday celebrations your friends were throwing would leave you feeling alone, in a room full of people who were something more to each other.

The silence before his answer felt like it would swallow you.

“Yes.” His eyes met yours. Under his gaze you’d always felt like he saw through every façade you hid behind. Like he could see into the darkest parts of you, that he saw them as was your friend anyway. Because you saw them in him too.

“I suppose I’ll have to do more gift shopping then.”

Please let me know what you all think! I'm planning out part two of probably three but I'm not sure exactly how they'll play out until I'm writing them.

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar series

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