Tumgik
#velaris island
islandvelaris · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
New sweater 🍂🦊
394 notes · View notes
azrielhours · 10 months
Text
Soft Spot
Azriel x Reader
Word count: 3k
Synopsis: Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night.  
Warnings: Smut
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Azriel Shadowsinger. Methodical, efficient, focused. Rigid dietary habits, discipline in training, unwavering proficiency in espionage. The spies he trained were held to that level of diligence—hell, even the priestesses he oversaw knew he expected order even in his absence.
That detail orientation carried over to his sex life. The lovers he sought were deliberately chosen to allow him to maintain the level of control he desired. Women that understood what he wanted—how he wanted them. Women that didn’t grow emotionally attached, that understood it was purely a physical transaction. Women that he could keep from his busybody family, situated in parts of Velaris that weren’t in their usual line of frequenting.
Azriel found a positive correlation between softer, sweeter women, and their likelihood to form emotional attachment, and an equally positive correlation between women who fucked rougher, who were colder, more jaded, and their ability to remain unattached. Those who didn’t demand he slept over after, that he take them to dinner.
You were the closest thing to an exception, being the cheeriest on the roster, yet you never displayed any attachment to him. Never looked disappointed when he left without eating breakfast. That was one of the things he liked most about you; you were lively—more than any of his other lovers—so he could enjoy the more girlishly charming, satiating parts you offered, but you stayed within the limit of his preferred emotional detachment. It was like a controlled dosage of indulgence.
Besides your vibrant energy, the other thing that made you feel different from the rest was the way you touched him. In a sea of meticulously selected, hard-hearted lovers, you were the only one that touched him softly. The first time you stroked his face tenderly while he was rutting away inside you, he thought you’d crossed some emotional threshold, that you’d begin asking him to be exclusive. To let you meet his family. But that never happened, so he dismissed it.
But it happened again when you once pressed your entire torso to his in an embrace that caught him off guard while you rode him. Held him to your heart until you both found your release.
Azriel figured this was just another avenue of indulgence you sought from him. Pretences of intimacy. If you could enjoy them, so would he. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, even when he began seeking you out over his other lovers. He was still in control.
It was the morning after he’d spent the night at your house. He awoke early, his circadian rhythm in tune with his perfectionism. His fingers felt across the sheets—just to gain his bearings. The sheets felt cold. Good, he insisted. This suited him better anyways.
He dressed, washed up, and made his way out. Maybe you had an early shift, or you liked to meditate. It didn’t matter, it was just his spymaster mind naturally seeking answers. In the kitchen, you were nowhere to be seen, but a singular plate on the island caught his eye.
It was homemade banana bread, each slice in a neat paper wrapper. Beside the plate, there was a note.
Gluten-free, sweetened with honey, full of organic nuts for protein. Made yesterday evening. Hope you like ‘em! Had to run to meet with a friend.
Huh.
Azriel wondered if you’d prepared them specifically for him, or if you just happened to have similar nutritional regiments. He took a slice, leaving your apartment.
He strolled, basking in the emptiness in the streets so early in the morning, and admittedly, the banana bread was very good. Who did you have to meet so early in the morning? Or was it a means to keep him an arm's length away? If anything, that was appropriate—it was simply an occupational by-product to find curiosity in everything. Azriel pushed the thoughts aside, finishing his dillydallying, and winnowed home.
~
Cassian sat next to Azriel in the lounge while everyone transferred there after dinner. He hadn’t seen his brother all day with their respectively packed schedules, but Rhys called an impromptu gathering at the Town House.
“Long night last night?” Cassian asked.
Azriel shrugged. “It was fine.”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Just another girl. Kind of bubbly.”
“I didn’t know that was your type,” Cassian laughed.
“It’s not. Just trying something new.”
Cassian shook his head, chuckling. “Long as you’re happy.”
Azriel didn’t know if he was necessarily happy, but an image flashed in his head of you baking in your apartment. If you had that concentrated furrow in your brows while you worked.
“What was the meeting called for, again?” he changed the subject.
Cassian shrugged. “Nesta had some new contact she thought would help with research.”
On cue, the twin wraiths entered the space. “Your guest is here,” Nuala spoke, stepping aside.
Azriel’s eyes widened as you walked right into his living room.
Nesta stood from her seat. You squeezed her in a tight embrace, joy unconcealed as you laughed brightly. Nesta began introducing you to everyone who you greeted with similar enthusiasm, the sweetness practically dripping off you. Your pretty smiles and firm handshakes had everyone matching your warm energy, and Azriel found his throat going dry.
Your eyes scanned the room, halting and widening when you spotted him. Then snapped back to the High Lord who was asking you about archive sources for the library.
“I—I have a friend who works in the Day Court. They—um—” another glance at Azriel, cheeks bright red— “they accidentally duplicated some texts. I’ll get the details for you soon.”
Cassian noted your glances at Azriel, not necessarily a rare sight for females to be smitten by him, but when he saw his brother’s shadows snaking the ground hastily—a tell of Azriel’s restlessness—Cassian narrowed his eyes.
You made your way over, shaking hands with the General, pointedly avoiding Azriel’s eye. Cassian tried to ease your apprehension by smiling kindly, making a joke about walking into a den of vipers to which you laughed.
Then it was Azriel’s turn, and he was facing his lover in front of his entire family.
You stared up at Azriel, brows raised and eyes wide like a doe. Your blushing cheeks and nervous fidgeting had Azriel biting back a smile despite the ordeal, unexpectedly amused by the fluster. It was adorable.
Azriel stuck out his hand, seeking to ease your nerves, surprising even himself at the urge. You placed your hand in his, still hesitant. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “Nesta introduced us earlier,” he lied.
“Oh. Yes. It’s good to see you again, Azriel,” you quickly recovered, and Azriel was impressed, resisting the upward tug of his lips.
His shadows whispered of Nesta frowning at the lie, then just as quickly, her mouth parting in realization. She came over, pointedly staring at Azriel, then looped her arm through yours and guided you to sit as everyone retook their seats.
Conversation resumed. You were occupied with the High Lord and Lady, answering questions about the texts. Azriel glimpsed at you again, taking in how expressive you naturally were, how he could read your every emotion. The way your eyes shone when you showed interest in something, how you nodded eagerly. He’d always taken pleasure in how responsive you were, but he’d rarely seen you outside the bedroom; didn’t get to enjoy it otherwise. Cassian leaned over to Azriel. “Not your type, hey?”
“Shut up,” Azriel muttered as Cassian chuckled.
Someone eventually brought out Rhys’s good wine, and the group indulged themselves. You listened eagerly as Cassian told stories at Azriel’s expense, peering over at him shyly. Azriel couldn’t help but wink, making you blush all over again and break his gaze.
Soon the respective couples began retiring. Nesta was making promises about meeting with you again when she suddenly faced Azriel, mischief bright in her eyes. “Azriel can fly you home, Y/N. Have a goodnight.” She rose, taking Cassian’s hand who was biting back a laugh.
When the room finally cleared, it was just you and Azriel.
You faced him. “Azriel, I’m sorry—I didn’t know this was your house,” you stammered. Azriel had never seen you so nervous before.
“It’s alright, this was an unexpected… coincidence. I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable for you.”
Your brows rose earnestly. “No, your friends are lovely. I just hope you’re not upset or anything.”
Azriel shook his head. “Not at all.” He scanned your tense form. “It’s alright, I’m not upset.”
You nodded, forcing a tight smile. “I can just walk home by myself, it’s okay.” You collected your bag, looking to the door, but Azriel found himself speaking before he thought twice.
“I didn’t know you knew Nesta.”
Your attention was drawn back. “I met her at a bookstore a while back. I was just with her this morning.”
Ah. “So that’s who you snuck off to see,” Azriel smiled teasingly.  
You gaped for a beat before smiling comfortably. “We had a very important meeting.” You finally seemed to relax; he found himself wanting more.
“Is my company so dull that you needed to replace it with books at eight in the morning?”
You laughed openly now, making Azriel grin. “Oh, yes. Real monotonous guy. Quite the prude.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Azriel stepped closer, and you craned your neck back. “I’m just not doing it for you?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You’re not enjoying yourself?” he murmured.
You shook your head, staring up at him as he stepped even closer.
Then he bent to whisper in your ear. “That’s not what it felt like.”
Azriel relished the sight of your mouth parting in shock. Then your eyes narrowed, and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper back, “You can’t prove that.”
His brows rose. “Is that a challenge?”
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose.”
Azriel shook his head, glaring playfully as he weighed his options. He’s never brought a lover home. All escapades were done at their houses or some ulterior location. He eyed the stairs, wondering if he could muster the willpower to turn you down, especially with the way you were looking up at him.
When he met your gaze again, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell. He scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist, and winnowed to his room.
You gasped, clutching onto him before the world rematerialized. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d be here, that Azriel would ever let you in like this. You stepped out of his hold, nervousness creeping up on you all over again. Azriel was the most enigmatic male you’d ever come across, but this felt unpredictable even for him.
Azriel watched you pace, taking in his space in the dark. Watched as you crossed your arms across your abdomen, the stress he’d noted in your body earlier becoming visible again.
Worst of all, Azriel had the distinct urge to comfort the anxiety away. Again.
You’d lounged with his family, and now he bore witness to the sight of you in his room. It was too intimate. It broke his rules, taunted his discipline.
Azriel walked over to where you stood near the window, and you turned to face him. He brought a hand up to the back of your neck, cradling it. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked lowly.
“No,” you stepped closer to him.
Azriel kissed you. There was nothing soft about the way he moved his mouth, how he pressed into you demandingly. He felt your gasp in his mouth, gripping you tighter to him. His other hand moved through your hair, fisting it at the scalp and tugging it back for more access.
Your hands flew to his shoulders, matching his fervour, and it only spurred him on. He walked you back to his bed, yanking at your clothes blindly, stripping you without releasing your mouth.
You were naked by the time your knees hit the mattress, and Azriel broke off to watch you fall back into the bed.
His bed.
He growled and began yanking off his clothes. He crawled to where you lay, hovering over your body. Your legs widened instinctually, allowing him to cushion his hardening length against your core, relishing in the warmth. He ground into you, kissing your neck. Your gasps were frequent, hands carding through his hair as your hips bucked of their own accord against his movement. You reached down between your bodies and stroked his length. Azriel shuddered, leaning into your touch. But then you looked up at him again with those damned eyes, and Azriel’s breath caught.
“Turn around,” he rasped.
You stared for a beat, brows faintly pinching before obliging him. He lifted off you to give you the breadth to turn, watching as you braced yourself on your hands and knees.
Azriel stroked himself against you a few more times before easing in, groaning at the tight fit. He waited a few moments as you adjusted to the stretch before he began moving.
Azriel had never made love before, but even when he regularly fucked his women, he did so within the limits of what they wanted. What they could take. But as he repeatedly withdrew and buried himself, there was a distinct urge to take you harder. Like being rougher would salvage his detachment, annul any inklings of intimacy. Erase the etching of your wide-eyed gaze from his consciousness. So he pounded hard, savouring how you massaged him from the inside. How you arched forward from the force, bracing yourself on your forearms from the harsh snap of his hips.
He’d taken you from the back before, but even then, you’d managed to work some tender touch into the act; grasping his hands where they gripped your hips, a stroke to his thighs from beneath your body. But this time, you weren’t making any attempts as he jackknifed again and again.
No soft touches.
That observation grounded Azriel in the haze of his unrelenting carnal chase. He studied your form. You were panting, taking him well and clenching around his length, but he noted that tension was still present in your body—your shoulders and back were stiff. Azriel gentled his thrusting. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” you breathed. Then you reached a hand back as if to touch his reassuringly, but you froze mid-reach and retracted it. That sent an ugly pang through his chest.
Your words from before echoed in his mind. I hope you’re not upset.
Azriel halted inside you.
He was a bastard for making you endure his callousness.
You pushed back against him, trying to urge him on, but Azriel didn’t let up, holding your hips firmly in place. “Why’d you stop?” you whined.
Because you’re not touching me like you usually do.
It was like cold water to the face, realizing what he wanted.
But Azriel couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to admit to it—the urge to treat you softly, to soothe away your worry. That he sought your caresses. So he didn’t try to verbalize it. Instead, he pulled out, gently guiding you onto your back, and lowered himself to his forearms on either side of your head. You stared in awe.
When he entered you this time, it was slower, more intentional. Immediately, your face contorted in pleasure, and Azriel could feel how your body eased beneath his, how you relaxed. And when he lowered his mouth to yours, you sighed. He kissed you deeply and softly. Sweetly. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him tighter to your torso, to wrap your legs firmly around his waist. Azriel’s deep groan reverberated through your chest, bringing you back to the edge of release.
He moved with deliberate, deep strokes, adjusting according to how you responded, which angles made you gasp. There was no space between your bodies; with each push, you felt him everywhere, felt him brush against your breasts, felt his hips move languidly between your trembling thighs.
He noted how close you were from your writhing against him, how you arched further into his heaving chest. So he snaked a hand down to your apex and rubbed gentle circles, tipping you over the edge. Release tore through you, and you couldn’t breathe, white-hot ecstasy coursing through you as he worked you through it. He raised his head to watch you fall apart.
When the waves abated, you pulled his head down against yours, his cheekbone resting directly against your lips. His eyes fluttered shut when you stroked his other cheek softly, whispering breathily for him to let go, baby, let go, and you felt his orgasm tear through him, how it erupted warm bursts of his seed deep in your belly. You kept stroking his cheek as he came down, only releasing him when he stopped shuddering.
When he pulled back and looked at you, there was something in his eyes you’d never seen before. Then, a tiny smile tugged the edges of his lips up, and he finally removed himself from you, laying next to you.
Before you could even consider whether he wanted you to stay, Azriel tugged the sheet over your body and wordlessly caressed your hip. By his standards, it was an invitation if you’ve ever seen one, so you silently shuffled closer with your back to him and basked in the way he pulled you to his chest.
For the first time, Azriel initiated the soft touches. He cupped your shoulders, stroking down your arms to your hands, interweaving his fingers with yours with his palms cradling the back of your hands. He crossed your clasped hands across your abdomen.
You sighed, pressing closer to his chest, savouring his body heat. He’d never held you like this—never held you at all. “You’re so warm, Az,” you breathed, squeezing his fingers.
Rules be damned, he thought.
When he was sure you’d fallen asleep, he whispered, “You bring it out of me.”
~
Azriel awoke; the remnants of a feeling lingering in his mind… something peaceful. Something hopeful.
You’d stayed the night. At his house. Slept in his arms.
He reached across the sheets. When they were cold, he couldn’t lie to himself, couldn’t deny his disappointment.
Had he taken it too far? Was it because he’d been so rough before he gentled himself?
Azriel frowned, rising out of bed.
It was ten in the morning. He’d slept in. Whatever’d gotten under his skin lately was really giving him a run for his money. He had a sinking feeling it had to do with a bubbly girl with a wide-eyed stare.
Azriel entered the kitchen, finding his entire family already eating.
“Late morning?” Cassian grinned.
“Late night, more like,” Rhys added as Azriel rolled his eyes, taking his seat.
The food tasted bland. Azriel frowned into his coffee; why did it bother him this much? You were only doing what he always did—leaving immediately. Should he expect something different just because he’d been soft with you?
Then Nesta entered the kitchen, and you walked in right behind her.
Azriel’s eyes widened, and you halted. “Oh,” you breathed.
Nesta smiled devilishly. “I was just showing Y/N the library while you slept in, Azriel.”
Oh.
Azriel nodded in silence, finding his plate suddenly very interesting.
“I—I’m just going to get my bag,” you said, turning to leave hurriedly.
In your absence, all eyes turned to Azriel, who let out a longwinded exhale. When he deigned to look, everyone was smirking.
“Looks like someone had a big boy sleepover,” Mor teased.
Cassian drawled, “Anything you’d like to share, Az?”
“Not particularly,” Azriel replied, standing to leave, ignoring the innuendos tossed around, the wolf whistle sounding above the laughter.
Azriel walked back to his room, an unexpected nervousness creeping up on him. You stood inside. “Y/N,” he spoke softly, drawing your attention.
“Azriel, I don’t mean to impose. I didn’t know your friends would be in the kitchen.”
He shook his head. “It’s alright. You’re not imposing. I’m—I’m glad you stayed,” his cheeks warmed at his own admission.
You bit your lip. “It’s just—I know you’re very… um, particular. With your methods.”
Azriel smiled. “My methods?”
You fidgeted, smiling shyly. “Mhm.”
He walked closer. “Well, it seems you’re making a rulebreaker out of me.”
Your eyes narrowed, glinting with mischief.
“Will you stay for breakfast?” He beamed when your mouth parted, fond of your candid nature. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I baked any pastries for you.”
But you quickly recovered, glaring accusatorily. “Who’s to say those were for you?”
There was that sass he adored. Azriel laughed. “My apologies for assuming.”
You gazed up at him in wonder. “I’d love to. It’s just—you know, your prude tendencies,” you shrugged. “They’re not to my liking.”  
Azriel chuckled. “Not the prude tendencies again.”
You smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d be—you know… I didn’t account for our time. I have to run, unfortunately.” Damn. Before he could sit with the sting of disappointment, you continued. “But I’m gonna be really hungry this evening.”
“Dinner, then?”
You touched a hand softly to his arm. He wondered if you knew what those touches did to him. “Yes, dinner. I’ll see you at seven, Shadowsinger.”
Moments later, as Azriel stood by the foyer window watching you leave, Cassian approached him, leaning over his shoulder. “Look’s like someone’s got a soft spot,” he muttered. Azriel scoffed, but the words rang true. Cassian added, “I’m happy for you. Are you happy?”
Azriel unwittingly smiled as you turned at the end of the street, peering over your shoulder, catching his eye and winking.
“Yeah, I’m happy.”
~
taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy
3K notes · View notes
throneofsapphics · 1 month
Text
finding you again prologue
Azriel x f!Reader
Tumblr media
summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it
warnings: angst, drinking
a/n: here's the start to the mini series from this poll! if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!
part one
“Why?” You ran a hand through your hair. “Can you at least give me a reason?” 
“I told you. It’s not working.” Pity shone in Azriel’s eyes, and it made you want to break something. There was more he wasn’t saying, it was obvious to you, just as it was obvious he wouldn’t deign to share. 
“Then get out,” your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. Enough that he blinked, and it brought a sick sense of satisfaction to you. “Out,” you repeated, not sure how much longer you could keep the tears in. 
He backed up slowly, one hand reaching behind to open the door, before slipping out. You missed the lingering look they shot your way, already having turned your back. With the click of the door, you grabbed the nearest glass and launched it across the room, a guttural scream leaving your chest. 
-
He lingered in the hallway, listening to shattering glass, your scream of pure pain, and hated themselves for a brief moment. He hadn’t lied to you, it wasn’t working. 
Whether you knew it or not wasn’t of any consequence to him. He did love you, genuinely, and part of him ached at the pain he was causing, but it was better than drawing out the inevitable. He’d loved you, but not enough to spend the rest of your lives together. It didn’t feel right to keep going when he knew you felt differently.
Still, he had to fight the desire to go back in and comfort you. 
His footsteps were soft down the hall, the stairs, the street, to the night that left an uncomfortable itch on his skin. 
-
Everything seemed fine. Not a damn indication something was wrong, but you should’ve known better - he was trained to hide his emotions, to keep secrets, but for a few years you’d let yourself believe you meant something to him. Let that pathetic hope fill you, that it might evolve into something more, that you could be his one. 
His face flashed across your mind, unwelcomed. That pity, like you were some miserable creature that would be broken by this 
Maybe you were broken, right now, but you decided to give yourself a day. 24 hours, and then you’d pull yourself together. 
But for now … a perfectly good bottle of red wine sat on your counter, one wine glass left standing. It would do. 
-
His shadows, half with a mind of their own, still followed you - still trailed to check you were fine. It was normal, expected, of course. You’d spent a few years together, although in secret, it was natural he’d still care for you. 
But, after a year passed he started to … wonder. Had he made a mistake? Through whispers in his ear, he trailed your life. Healers training, like you always said you would, a few new friends, new lovers that came and went, and eventually your departure from Velaris - sent to an outlying island as a new healing post. There was pride, pride he didn’t have any claim to feel, but it persisted nonetheless.
-
Prythian shut down, and you were one of the few who knew of a safe haven - although you couldn’t speak of it, or recall how to access it. Velaris. Each time the word came to the tip of your tongue, each time it was prominent in your mind, your throat dried up - chest clenched hard enough you lost your breath. It happened frequently enough your friends worried there was some sort of medical issue, and you forced yourself not to think of it. 
There’d been one last command from your High Lord - to lie low, and stay away, with one image flashing through your mind - the Holy Mountain for all of Prythian. Now cursed. Four simple words, one horrid curse, and you were cut off from all of your family and the friends you’d known for years. 
After 45 years, you wondered if they would still remember you like you did them. If one day you’d hug your little sister again. Would she remember you? She’d only been 10 the last time you saw each other, a day before you left, your chest clenched, throat tightening. Before you’d left home.  
You’d ached to leave the city and explore, and now all you wanted was to return. 
-
He thought of you often. Stuck outside of Velaris, with no way back. Not for the first time, he resented the decision Rhys made to keep them away. He hoped you’d gotten some kind of warning, that you were still alive out there. 
Azriel found himself checking on people he’d only heard of in passing. Everyone who’d been important to you in your life. Your younger sister growing, how your name was always met with worried looks and hushed tones, how over the years she stopped asking after you, how you seemed to disappear from everyone’s minds. 
Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who remembered you. 
499 notes · View notes
danikamariewrites · 5 months
Note
can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,
” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”
” it’s my wedding ring ”
and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.
” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”
he smiles faintly and says:
” her name is y/n and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”
” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”
he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader snd their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks you in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells her he’ll pick them all up tonight. You meet feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.
” how did i not know this, i feel bamboozled ” feyre asks rhysand
” don’t worry i didn’t know for s long time either, Az is a very private person, he’s still a mystery sometimes, and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍
I’m Married
Azriel x reader
A/n: Az would casually drop “I’m married”
Warnings: none
Tumblr media
Azriel rips his leather gloves off, dropping them on the kitchen island. The leather making a smacking sound against the marble. He laid his palms flat on the cool surface. Looking down, he smiled at the simple silver band on his ring finger with your name and the date of your wedding engraved on the inside.
His smile widened knowing that you were waiting for him to come home. All he had to do was fill out one more report for Rhys and then he could hold you in his arms.
Feyre walked into the kitchen humming a light tune, breaking Azriel away from his daydream of you. “Hi Azriel,” she said in that sweet caring tone. She walked passed him, lightly patting his shoulder. Azriel covered her hand with his ring clad one.
She grabbed Azriel’s hand to inspect his ring. “I’ve never really seen you wear jewelry but you always wear this. What is it?” A curious smile pulling at her lips. “Oh, it’s my wedding ring.” Feyre’s face falls into shock.
“What?” Azriel looks at her unsure what to say. “Erm,” “What!? You’re married! Since when? Who is she? Do I know her? Can I meet her?”
Azriel smiles at his over excited friend. Holding Feyre’s shoulders Azriel let’s out a small laugh. “I will tell you all about her if you want.” She nods rapidly and takes a seat at the island. Resting her chin in her hand Feyre looks up at Azriel excitedly.
“Her name is y/n. She isn’t like us, she’s more calm and…well I don’t know exactly how to describe it. She’s just perfect. We live just outside the city. I built the house but it was her vision. Our five year old daughter-“
“You have daughter! Azriel how are you keeping this from us?” The Shadowsinger shrugs, “I’m not keeping this from all of you. Only Cass and Rhys know.”
“Ok,” she says exasperated, “I want to meet them. Please stay for dinner tonight and bring y/n and your daughter. If that’s ok with her.” She quickly adds. Not wanting Azriel to feel bullied into sharing you. “I will ask.” Feyre squeals with excitement jumping from her seat to embrace Azriel.
Closing his office door he let out a nervous sigh. Azriel knew you’d say yes. But he was just so used to keeping you to himself, he was t ready to share you with his friends. Yes you have your own friends but this is completely different.
He knew this day would come though. After a hundred years it was inevitable. Plus it would be wrong to keep his little Malin from her cousin.
You could sense Azriel’s indecisiveness down the bond. Sending love down the bond made him feel lighter and better about asking you to the River House for dinner. “I can’t wait to see you my love.” Your soothing tone sounded through the bond.
Relaxing into his leather chair Azriel smiled to himself again. “I miss you. So much baby.” Azriel pauses before asking you. “How would you feel about coming to the River House for a small dinner tonight? And brining Malin too.” “I would love to! Do I finally get to meet Feyre?”
Your excitement calmed his nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Rhys watched with amusement as Feyre rushed around the dinning room straightening out the napkins and plates. “Everything has to be perfect!” She said. “Darling, y/n is going to love you. It’s ok if one napkin corner is slightly crooked she won’t think less of you.”
She stopped, dropping her head as she gripped the back of one of the chairs at the table. Probably trying to get it as straight as possible too. “I know, I know. I just want her to be comfortable here.” Rhys walked over to her and pulled his mate into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “You’re so sweet darling.”
A knock and the front door opening had the pair breaking apart as Feyre rushed to foyer. Azriel had his back turned. Feyre cleared her throat and Azriel faced her and Rhys. Revealing a beautiful female holding a child on her waist.
You smiled at Feyre as you placed Malin on the ground. “It’s so nice to finally meet you Feyre. Everything you’ve done…thank you.” The two of you quickly walked to meet in the middle and embrace. “I’m so happy to finally meet you too y/n.”
Letting go Feyre crouches down to Malin’s height. “And you must be Malin. It’s so nice to meet you.” Malin curtsies. “It’s lovely to meet you High Lady Feyre.” She giggled and lightly pinched Malin’s cheek.
Azriel crouched down next to his daughter. “Mal, Feyre is your aunt. She’s married to uncle Rhys remember?” She nods her little head.
Nyx came running into the room followed by Cassian. “Nyx I want you to meet someone.” Rhys held out his hand to his son. Nyx took it as he looked around curiously as he stops in front of Malin. “Hi. We’re cousins.” She says excitedly.
The little boys eyes go wide and his eyes find her wings. “You have wings too! Wanna see my toys?” She nods and the pair run off. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your hand coming to rest on your barley there bump. You were four months along now with your and Az’s second child.
“Let’s go to the sitting room. Can I get you a drink?” Feyre links her arm with yours. “Water would be wonderful.” Sitting on a love seat next to Azriel Cassian comes over planting a kiss on your head and ruffling your hair. “It’s good to see you kid.” “You too Cass.”
“And how’s little Cassian?” You roll your eyes at him. “Cassian. We talked about this I’m not naming my child after you.”
As you banter back and forth with Cassian and Azriel, Feyre taps on Rhys’s mental shields. “Why did Az keep y/n a secret? Why don’t all of you know about her?” Rhys gave her a sympathetic frown from his seat across the room. She sounded dejected by the lack of trust between her and the Shadowsinger.
“Azriel keeps them secret to keep them safe. He has the most dangerous job out of all of us and Mother forbid an enemy found them. He would be distraught. He has many secrets my darling. Not even I know them all and it’s been over 500 years.”
Feyre sighs, holding your glass of water. She was happy for Azriel though. You clearly made him very happy. And the way he looks at Malin…gods that how her and Rhys look at Nyx. Azriel leans over to kiss your cheek and Feyre swears she had never seen him so relaxed and boyish.
728 notes · View notes
lyssasdrafts · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
— AFTERGLOW 🦇🌟
azriel x reader smau!
Tumblr media
status: ongoing!
pairing: azriel x reader, slight eris x reader
includes: humor, angst, fluff, modern au, coffee shop au, college/university au, strangers to lovers (for azriel x reader), childhood friends to lovers (for eris x reader)
description: being a childhood friend of the archerons and vanserras; you happen to keep running into a certain member of the inner circle at velaris university, but pursuing a new relationship with someone else is hard when you struggle with commitment issues from your first love.
Tumblr media
content warning: contains themes of azriel’s canonically toxic family life, mentioned/implied homophobia for mor’s arc (chapters containing these will have a warning)
00 profiles: y/n’s group exiles cafe inner circle
001: “ i blew things out of proportion ”
002: “ i pinned your hands behind your back ”
003: “ thought i had reason to attack ”
004: “ fighting with a true love ”
005: “ boxing with no gloves ”
006: “ this ultraviolet morning light ”
007: “ chemistry ‘til it blows up ”
008: “ tells me this love is worth the fight ”
009: “ tell me that you’re still mine ”
010: “ why’d i have to break what i love so much? ”
011: “ it’s all me, in my head… ”
012: “ i’m sorry that i hurt you ”
013: “ but it’s not what i meant ”
014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you ”
015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go ”
016: “ i lived like an island ”
017: “ tell me that it’s not my fault ”
bonus chapters:
002.5: “ who’s that barista guy? ”
013.5: “ why are you calling me your babygirl? ”
Tumblr media
taglist: open!! lmk if you want to be added
350 notes · View notes
violet-shadows · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
✨CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST✨
Tumblr media
It’s okay.
After a desperate search, Azriel rescues his friend and fellow member of the Inner Circle. Their reunion prompts some revelations about their shared connection and feelings for one another.
What are we waiting for? (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three - NSFW)
Azriel has never been very good at talking about his feelings and his mate is no different. When both make assumptions about the other’s intentions, heartbreak and miscommunication ensue.
I knew it the first night that I saw you. (Part One) (Part Two)
When the High Lady’s sister sends a friend to your shop in her stead, you find your thoughts are soon captivated by a certain member of the Inner Circle.
Speaking of forgiveness. (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
A spike of fear down the mating bond has Azriel racing back to the Night Court, terrified by what he’ll find. Meanwhile, the Inner Circle grapples with the fallout of a severe case of mistaken identity.
Low on Hope (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
The youngest of the Archeron sisters went to great lengths to keep her family afloat before her sister went over the wall. The nature of her sacrifice was a secret she vowed never the share. That is, until Feyre and new brother-in-law’s magical abilities spoil her plan to leave the past in the past. When old memories become fresh wounds again, it’s up to a certain Spymaster to help piece Y/N back together. 
Careful
Azriel discovers something about his half-human mate that alarms him.
Cover Story (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
When a mission leads him to a secluded island, Azriel recruits a friend and colleague to pose as his mate. Their time spent working together reveals more than they anticipated. 
Welcome Home
Azriel comes home late one evening to a surprise from his mate, who has spent the evening reading scary stories.
One More (NSFW)
Azriel is nothing if not patient and his willpower brings you to new heights in bed.
Scary Stories
On a camping trip with the Inner Circle, a spooky tale has you leaning on Azriel for comfort. 
Wish Things Were Different (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
You know your mate loves you, but as he and Elain get closer, you begin to wonder if he wishes things had turned out differently.
These Hands
Your mate is thrilled about becoming a father, but his past makes him question whether he’s fit for the role. 
Retribution (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
When Azriel’s best friend is kidnapped, he fears he may never get the chance to reveal his true feelings for her.
I Need You (NSFW)
Some playful teasing between you and Azriel turns into something more. 
Grounded (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
Azriel meets a stranger in the library and finds the course of his life forever altered. 
Take Care
Azriel’s mate hasn’t been herself lately, stirring up old fears for the Shadowsinger. [fluff and angst]
Moving On (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
After loving Azriel in secret for years, you decide it’s time for you to move on.
Tumblr media
I’m supposed to protect you.
When a sparring match with your mate goes south, Cassian is left to pick up the pieces with a guilty conscience.
I’d do anything for you.
Cassian will do anything to make his mate happy, even if it means sacrificing his own comfort.
Payback (Part One) (Part Two)
After spending the evening teasing his mate, Cassian finds himself in a compromising position when she seeks revenge.
Poison
A diplomatic mission goes awry, leaving Cassian and his mate stranded in the Illyrian wilderness. 
Peace
Cassian and his mate reunite after a long, hard battle and take comfort in one another.
Sleepless in Velaris
Cassian wakes up alone and comes looking for his mate. As usual, he knows just what to do to help her fall asleep. 
Tumblr media
ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist
Missing Piece (Series Index)
(Nessian x Reader) Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete.
Tumblr media
🚫Requests are closed as of 10/01/2022.🚫
2K notes · View notes
emilystheories · 1 year
Text
Bryce Quinlan's true home: A compilation of all the evidence.
[ACOTAR, CC and slight TOG spoilers!]
It seems that the consensus among fans is that Bryce will return back to Midgard at the end of CC3, and that most of the story will be wrapped up. On the contrary, I think it's just getting started, and instead believe that:
Bryce Quinlan's true home is Prythian. She will be the Starborn Queen, and ruler of the Dusk Court.
And not just Bryce. I think Hunt, Ruhn and everyone else will be joining her too... because (to put it bluntly).. Midgard is fucked.
Allow me to go through the evidence.
Bryce is repeatedly connected to dusk.
One of the first thing Hunt notices about Bryce is that her scent is of the "first stars at nightfall." Nightfall is another word for dusk. SJM often uses scent to foreshadow a character's home (ie. Rowan of TOG smelling like Terrasen, and Rhys smelling like Velaris).
Tumblr media
Bryce has been obsessed with Pegasus dolls since book 1. It's then no coincidence that the Pegasus's in Prythian came from the Prison Island... where the Dusk Court (most likely) used to be. (And... think about that Pegasus doll that SJM included in the CC3 reveal video...)
Bryce often has her nails painted in "twilight" colours (another word for dusk), and even her damn nipples are described as "dusk pink" (lmfao).
"Dusk's Truth" seems to be of great importance, and I'm willing to bet that everything Danika did - from giving Bryce the Horn, to even her own death - was so that Bryce could escape Midgard and reach Prythian and the Dusk Court. Recall Baxian's words; that Danika was searching for a way into a new world - one without the Asteri.
Tumblr media
The home of the Starborn fae isn't Midgard, it's Prythian - the Dusk Court. Bryce Quinlan is heir to the Starborn fae. She is Queen Theia's descendant.
Bryce is also connected to Prythian.
The star on Bryce's chest is a "beacon" for Prythian, and glows for people who also originate from the ACOTAR world (I don't think people understand how big a deal this is...). If Bryce returns to Midgard permanently, then she'll forever wear a star on her chest that glows for another world.
Tumblr media
Bryce is the Horn. If you subscribe to the theory that the Horn is the 4th Dread Trove item, with the other 3 being in Prythian, then she is obviously needed there - especially when ACOSF hinted that all 4 items joined together allows for something big to happen...
The prophecy about the knife and the sword suggests that the ACOTAR and CC fae are going to be reunited. Bryce owns this prophetic sword - she has a big part to play (one that surely can't be fulfilled if Bryce just pops into Prythian for a quick visit, and then leaves again... and really, what would be the point of that?)
Foreshadowing that Bryce will be a queen.
It is repeatedly stated that Bryce bears the exact light of the Starborn Queen.
Tumblr media
Bryce's name in Hunt's phone is 'Bryce Is a Queen.'
Tumblr media
Hunt himself often remarks on Bryce's queenly demeanour:
Tumblr media
And in CC2, Hunt again thinks to himself that the 'princess' title isn't enough for Bryce... that she is something more...
Tumblr media
Then in the final CC2 chapters, we see Ruhn pleading with Bryce to become Queen:
Tumblr media
To which Cormac agrees, and then says that the future of their people moving forward, all depends upon Bryce...
Tumblr media
And most importantly, Ruhn's last words to Bryce: "Long live the Queen."
And now that I'm thinking about it, it is repeatedly stated that Hel's armies strike at Bryce's command. The entirety of Hel... await Bryce's orders. As if she too is their Queen. (It won't surprise me if the Dusk Court is strongly intertwined with Hel, there's SO much evidence... but that's for another post).
Other characters and their connection to Prythian.
Bryce isn't the only one with ties to Prythian. We also have:
Ruhn and Rhys looking identical.
Tumblr media
The Asteri originating from Prythian, and making clear that their true goal is to go back there to get revenge (so the plot is likely to follow in this direction...)
The Princes of Hel are connected to Prythian: the Illyrian's and Hel's armies have the same wings, we have a "Lord Thanatos" in the Hewn City, the 7 layers of the library, that "cat presence" watching...
When Bryce is taken to the town house in Prythian, she remarks that the interior decorating is the same as Jesiba's and the Autumn King's - they are both likely from Prythian.
The Bone Carver drew three interlocking circles in the sand, which is the exact symbol of Parthos (and the symbol of Bryce's Archesian amulet). The Bone Carver's brother is Koschei (the upcoming ACOTAR antagonist) - he is also likely connected to Parthos.
The Under-King is described exactly like The Suriel (they're likely the same species). Bryce's star even glows for the Under-King, which tells us he is from Prythian.
Bryce's star also glows for Cormac and the Avallen fae; they're likely from Prythian also (and the Dusk Court). In fact, one of the first thing Bryce notices when she lands in Prythian, is that everyone is wearing the same clothes as the Avallen fae.
The Thunderbirds (and likely Hunt) were connected to "Dusk's Truth." (So, Bryce ending up in Prythian isn't just about the Bryce x Azriel theory...).
And this leads me to my most controversial opinion of all: although unbeknownst to readers, Crescent City is an ACOTAR spin-off series. That's not to say it can't stand on it's own, or that is has lesser value - but rather that almost all characters have ties back to the ACOTAR world - and this is surely not a coincidence.
I truly believe that SJM is planning a full multiverse crossover series between all 3 of her worlds, and CC was the series needed to bridge ACOTAR and TOG together. But, more on this later...
We don't want the characters staying in Midgard. They need to get out.
Midgard is entirely different to the ACOTAR and TOG worlds. The Asteri entered Midgard, absolutely obliterated everyone and everything, and then built their own world from the ground up. Every building, road, every inch of this world - was created and orchestrated by the Asteri. Their power and influence is absolute. Bryce realises this too:
Tumblr media
We see the death camps in Kavalla... but I would argue that the whole of Midgard is one giant death camp. Any sense of freedom... is an illusion.
And because the Asteri control everything, they see everything, and know everything. I can't see how any of the CC characters will overthrow the Asteri in Midgard (I mean, they get close to Rigelus at the end of CC2, and Bryce has to world jump to escape, and Hunt and Ruhn are facing slavery, or worse. And yet we're to believe that SIX Asteri will be defeated in one book...?)
Tumblr media
However, if this is all part of a larger scheme, where a multiverse book series in the works, and ACOTAR, TOG, and CC characters will rally together to defeat the Asteri (TOG Spoilers - as well as Orcus and Mantyx... they're still out there, don't forget), then maybe there's a chance.
And, let's not also forget that Bryce bargained away her resting place to the Under-King. If Bryce dies in Midgard... she's screwed. She has no chance of reincarnation, or eternal peace, or... whatever happens after death. But, if she dies in Prythian, it's a different story...
Midgard is doomed.
Following the final chapters of CC2, it is clear that Midgard is heading towards imminent destruction.
We know that Bryce has been thrown into another world. Ruhn is in the Asteri dungeons, his future uncertain. Cormac was killed. Do we really think the two fae kings; the Autumn King, and The Avallen King, are just going to sit back and accept this? Let the Asteri murder and torture their children?
We also know that the leader of the human rebels, Pippa Spetsos, was killed. I can't think of anything that would enrage the rebels more (and their mech suits, the synth - everything they've been brewing, feels like it's reaching its climax...)
Then we have Apollion mentioning that the 'Northern Rift' is groaning, and that he senses war approaching. (And for what it's worth, I'm not sure I trust Apollion...)
Tumblr media
Lastly, we are still yet to see the consequences of Tharion's actions, and the River Queen's wrath. It is stated multiple times that the River Queen has the power to flood Lunathion if she wished, and I can't help but feel that is relevant.
The flooding of Midgard.
When reading CC1 and CC2, did you happen to notice the sheer amount of times it is raining?
SJM even makes a point to tell readers that there is record rainfall... (and thank you to @/highladyfeyre on TT for her theory on this!)
Tumblr media
Then, in Throne of Glass, Aelin falls through the worlds, and sees the ACOTAR world and the Crescent City world. However, she also sees a world entirely covered in water.
Linking to this, in ACOSF, Merrill explains that all of the worlds are stacked on top of each other, even sharing the same space - but what separates them is TIME. Again going back to TOG where Aelin falls through the worlds, it says this; "She was falling. Falling and being thrown. The Wyrdgate sealed behind her, and yet she was not home. As it closed, ALL WORLDS OVERLAPPED. And she now fell through them."
If the worlds are separated by time, then it can be argued that Aelin wasn't looking at separate planets - she was looking at the same world, throughout differing time periods (more evidence for this here). Meaning, the world covered in water... is still yet to happen.
And following CC3, what is the final Crescent City book to be called...?
House of Many Waters.
The Multiverse series.
You might be thinking - what the hell is the point of Midgard flooding?
Well, the 'flooding of Midgard' is a key event in Norse Mythology, and signals the arrival of Ragnarok (a huge war across all of the worlds, that resulted in the end of life as they know it).
Another term for Ragnarok, is "Twilight of the Gods."
The same name as Sarah's WIP book series... one that she appeared to draft at the same time as Crescent City...
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Twilight is another word for DUSK. It all just fits too perfectly to be a coincidence.
Thus, I wholeheartedly believe that CC3 and CC4, as well as the final ACOTAR books, are the precursors to SJM's endgame series - Twilight of the Gods. Where the ACOTAR, CC and TOG characters will unite for a universal war, in order to stop the end of the world.
"But SJM said ACOTAR and CC will be standalone!"
Firstly, with all due respect to SJM, her word in interviews is not always gospel. She is known to deceive fans in interviews; for example, in 2020, SJM said a multiverse crossover would never happen, and in her most recent interview, she revealed that she has actually been planning the crossover for years. I'm not suggesting SJM has malicious intent, if anything, it's the opposite - she does not want to spoil the books for us.
Secondly, SJM never confirmed that ACOTAR and CC are both entirely standalone reads (if they were, she'd never go forth with the crossover). Instead, she said that you don't need to read ACOTAR to understand CC3. That makes sense, and to me just means that she is going to include extra contextual information to help out those fans who are indeed standalone readers (which won't be hard, because Bryce will be learning everything about Prythian for the first time too).
But the most important point is this - the multiverse crossover changes everything, and 100% changes the ACOTAR world as well.
As proof of this, consider Rhys. He has been studying the universe intently for years now. He even built his own orrery - his own map of the universe. As of CC2, he has just met a girl from another world. This girl will almost certainly be telling him about the Asteri, and that their true goal is to go back to Prythian - Rhys's home - and exact revenge.
So, do you really think that Rhys will learn about the existence of other worlds, the existence of the Asteri (who actively want to hurt his loved ones), and then just.. forget about it in future books? Send Bryce back to Midgard alone, simply wishing her well, and then going back to his ordinary life? No.
Elain's book.
As even further proof of this, consider that Elain's story will be the centre of the next ACOTAR book.
In ACOSF, we are told that there are three prominent mountains in Prythian, known as the "three sister peaks." The mountain where 'Under the Mountain' took place (and where Amarantha held people captive), Ramiel, and the mountain of the Prison Island.
Tumblr media
Feyre conquered the first mountain; when she defeated Amarantha.
Nesta conquered Ramiel.
Which leaves the third mountain, the Prison Island mountain, to the third sister... Elain.
And what is the Prison Island most likely to be....? The Dusk Court.
I'm willing to bet that Elain's story intertwines heavily with Crescent City also.
That all of this... is so much bigger than we can imagine.
197 notes · View notes
yazthebookish · 5 months
Text
I haven't made a fancy theory post on this because I'm not in the mood for it these days so I'll share it here until then.
Sangravah is at the Land of Dusk
Is there strong evidence for it? No.
But let's entertain it for a second.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
We already got a confirmation in ACOMAF that only one temple out of the three that had the piece of the Cauldron's feet was in the Night Court—which is Cesere.
We don't know anything about Itica but we do get a mention of Sangravah in ACOWAR
Tumblr media
It seems to be a place Lucien is also familiar with and Rhys owns a Sangra(vian) carpet.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The events of Sangravah were retconned to include Rhys and Mor because they were not involved—now why would SJM need to retcon such a minor detail? Unless she forgot.
A common question about this is:
If the temple is at another Court, How did Rhys, Azriel, and Mor bypass a Court's border or why would they even bother without informing the High Lord of that Court to also spare some of his soldiers to defend the temple?
That's a logical question readers have asked unless SJM made a special exception for them, but that doesn't make sense to me because in ACOMAF she made sure Rhys stays at the border of Spring while Mor rescued Feyre because a High Lord just can't come and go as he pleases into another Court.
Tumblr media
And because of Gwyn's backstory, many readers including myself assumed that the temple has to be somewhere in those Courts, but again why wouldn't Rhys alert the other High Lords of an attack and none of the High Lords during their ACOWAR meeting mentioned anything about their temples being attacked (same goes for Itica).
So what if Sangravah is on a neutral land that does not belong to any Court or Kingdom (perhaps it once did).
That's why Azriel and co had to not worry about any political implications because it's not a land under any Court's jurisdiction.
So there's this little piece of evidence that I think could make this theory make a little sense (HOSAB spoilers ahead):
Tumblr media
The popular theory is that the Land of Dusk (Dusk Court) could be the Prison Island, which is a popular theory that could be true because it was likened to an 8th Court.
But here is something I thought of:
What if the Land of Dusk is the isle between Day and Night? The location makes sense given the name and if it exists in a near permanent-twilight the way the Night Court has the most beautiful night sky.
And after the Starborn left, there might've been something left of it if it wasn't completely destroyed. They might've had temples and palaces.
It's also a safe assumption that Sangravah's temple is located in the mountains since Gwyn says they were so remote up there and she told Hybern's soldiers the children took the mountain road to get help.
This isle also has mountains (or maybe they're hills but they look like mountains to me).
Tumblr media
And Gwyn mentioned something interesting.
Tumblr media
She enjoys the Dusk services, not here (in Velaris), she means in Sangravah.
Now why would she prefer Sangravah's Dusk services over Velaris's? It could just be because they're mostly under a mountain but I do pause at any mention of Dusk/Twilight now to think twice about it meaning.
That's a small theory for today 🤍
90 notes · View notes
tswaney17 · 5 months
Text
Words of Wisdom
Tumblr media
For @azrielappreciationweek, Day 4: Domestic Life, I wanted to highlight Az spending time with his mother and their bonding over a common interest. 💙
My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​
My ao3 account: tswaney17
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕
Trigger warnings: minor angst
Word Count: 1,599
This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read here.
Azriel’s wings beat against the chilled wind, still bitter cold even in the afternoon. Though nothing could compare to the frozen tundra of the Illyrian Steppes in the middle of winter, of which, he was well accustomed.
But the further south he flew, the warmer it got. Slightly. It was still by definition winter on the island where Rosehall stood, but it didn’t get nearly as cold as Velaris.
It was only a week after Solstice, a week since his brother laid the order down on him and Azriel was struggling with himself. He did not understand the motives, could not control his anger at Rhys for what he did. And for that reason, he needed to leave.
For a little while, that is.
Truthfully, he needed his mother. He needed her wisdom and advice.
Over five centuries old and the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court still sought his mother when things turned sour. How utterly pathetic.
Read More
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕
While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.
My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​
My ao3 account: tswaney17
Taglist: 
@nikethestatue
@reverie-tales
@123moiaussi
@duskwhisperer
@zdenkah
@nyxreads
@shedoessoshedoes
@athena-85
@jasmineandshadows
@nightcourtseer
@nivem565
@debramclaren
@illyrianvalkyriecarynthian
@secretpuppyflower
@justreallybored
@ultadverb
@the-regal-warrior
@roseandshadows
@tcursebreaker
@kingravinger
@mis-lil-red
@eloeloeheheh
@fawnandshadows
@swankii-art-teacher
@miss-bee-cat
@bookhhrelaz
@impossiblescissorspeachpaper
@elrielbaby
@lesolehabitantdelalune
@thoughtsaboutshows
@britishwings
@aelin21galathynius
@saz-griffin
@azrielslight
@bookstaninthesoul
@curiositywoman
@karsyn-b2
@elainsweetcobalt
@emilyondemand
Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!
57 notes · View notes
starsreminisce · 3 months
Text
So, there are plenty of opinions and compelling arguments about whose book is next. I've reached a point where I just want to express some thoughts. I haven't made a decision because my feelings shift every time I consider it.
Personally, just knowing a new book is on the way excites me. I'm sure that even when CC3 comes out, I'll be hunting for crumbs like a broke cokehead – which brings me to my next point.
Maasverse spoilers under the cut.
The next book will be responsible for bridging ACOTAR to CC for readers who follow ACOTAR exclusively. We still have ACOTAR readers wondering if Elriel(!!!!!) will be tasked to find the 4th dread trove, despite it being revealed in CC. The ACOTAR subreddit gets asked every day about what series/book to read after ACOTAR.
There is a crucial element that SJM needed to establish in HoFaS, something that couldn't be addressed in ACOTAR. This is particularly significant, especially when she wrote two CC books consecutively. The context within Prythian needed to be set up in HoFaS before it could seamlessly progress into ACOTAR.
Prison Island/Dusk Court? Illyrian descendants? Avellan fae? All Trove items accounted for? Truth-Teller? Koschei's origins?
Gwynriel makes sense to me because they have the most tie-in to CC. This would help in segueing from Nesta in ACOSF to Truth-Teller's importance in HoFAS, continuing the story with Azriel and Gwyn. It's worth noting that Gwyn felt Aidas in ACOSF, and she is now closer to Nesta than Elain is. Additionally, her role as Merrill's researcher and her interest in the 26 worlds, coupled with her heritage from both grandparents, likely plays a part here. Notably, CC has shown an underwater civilization, which adds to the anticipation of Gwyn's storyline.
Elucien makes sense to me because who best to catch a reader up who does not know about CC than two characters who aren't directly involved with it at all.
Elain was not present when Bryce arrived. She sure as hell is not going to walk in after Rhys introduced himself. I would think that for a moment as huge as a visitor from another world would assemble all members of the IC. We have Mor’s reasoning why she might not be there. We don’t have Elain’s, especially after "doing whatever it takes for this court."
This does help set up for a tandem read where Elain and Lucien move similarly to how Chaol marks what Aelin is doing in ToD or, at best, making it similar to how the context would change if someone were to read HoSaB then ACOSF.
I also have personal reasons why I want one over the other. Elucien because I'm starving for it, but Gwynriel because the fandom has been so out of pocket about Azriel's love life, with Bryciels still being pushed despite SJM's clear reaction to the question. Do I want to suffer through another 18-24 months of half-baked fanfic-based theories that Elucien's book is like Feylin in ACOTAR? Fuck that shit.
There are still many factors to consider because we don't know how involved Bryce would be in Velaris, who all is going to be involved, how involved Azriel is going to be (is the reason we had his POV in ACOSF is because his POV will be featured in HoFaS, like the bonus chapter?), how is Truth-Teller connected to all of this, and most importantly, how CC3 will end now that we know their worlds are connected.
Even then, I still don't know if that would be enough to draw a good conclusion and we might not have long anyway before the next book is announced.
44 notes · View notes
islandvelaris · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
🌟🤍🧚‍♀️
116 notes · View notes
bunnyshideawayy · 14 days
Text
and since i’m yapping i wanna quickly rant about how stupid and selfish the Feysand death pact is.
yes, i know losing a mate would be devastating for the other. yes, i know Feyre and Rhys watched each other die and were put through hell together. that still doesn’t change my mind. what they did was selfish, for more reasons than just it leaving Nyx orphaned and heartbroken. (btw do we know the timeline for aging as a fae? like do they grow up like humans do until they reach like 20 something and just stop aging for a while? lmk)
Feyre and Rhys are high lady and high lord of the night court, they have the court and its people to consider. what would happen to if they should die together? who would rule the NC if Nyx was to young to become high lord? who would protect Nyx and Velaris? News flash, it wouldn’t be the IC. the only one who stands a chance politically would be Mor, who is Keir’s daughter and Rhys’s cousin, but Cas and Az would be left with no official court positions. Rhys is barely keeping the Illryians in line, should he die they will revolt and Cas and Az will not be able to handle that idc how powerful they are. Amren wouldn’t be able to do much politically i don’t think she is even known outside the NC. Cas and Az have little to no respect from the other courts, they’d maybe have the help of the Summer and Day courts- that’s it. Keir would probably try to become HL of the NC if Nyx is still to young and he would have the entire support of the CON. if that happened Nyx, Mor, any of the IC would never be safe. Nesta and Elain, too. Just rhys dying would drastically change the political landscape, losing both he and feyre would be catastrophic. 
Now onto Nyx.
I know feyre and rhys didn’t expect to actually get pregnant so soon but they made the pact then decided to try for kids, that is also selfish and irresponsible. idc if they thought it would take 200 years to get pregnant, idc if they didn’t expect the wigs, they still made the pact and knew the consequence of having a kid would mean one of them would have to stay behind to take care of them even if they were grieving! “well mates are different!” do you really think feyre and rhys are the first and only mated pair in pyrithian history? i’m sure there has been someone who lost their mate and still pushed through for their kid(s). it was a desperate thing to do and love makes you desperate. i get it and i don’t expect these deeply traumatized characters to be perfect but i DO expect us as readers to see stupid, and say stupid. it’s obvious even they regret their pact after the pregnancy. so we can all drop this act, what they did was selfish and that’s okay! they made a blind and short sided decision that will have incredible, negative consequences should it ever happen. not just for them and their family, but for their entire court and the entire island of pyrthian, maybe even world, maybe even universe given its now canonly connected to the CC universe. thank the mother they both have way to much plot armor so we don’t have to worry about losing either of them. but the possibility is terrifying!
40 notes · View notes
throneofsapphics · 23 days
Text
finding you again, part one
Azriel x f!Reader
Tumblr media
summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it
warnings: references to utm, war, disease
a/n: sorry for the delay! part two coming in the next few days, if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!
prologue
Shockwaves of magic swept through Prythian and the surrounding islands at once. It felt like the ground beneath your feet shifted. Once, twice, three times - and you heard shouts from around you. You took a brief moment to thank the mother that it wasn’t just in your head. 
You picked up the basket, sprinting back towards your home. Herbs flew out of the sides, but you’d go back to collect later. Whatever this was now, it was huge. You felt it in your bones, something in your world was changing, everything seemed to come to a standstill - the rest could wait. 
The entire island was tense for the next few days, everyone waiting to see what did happen. Whispered murmurs of the possibilities, of the could-be’s, of the tentative hope blossoming - a hope nobody let show publicly. 
Secluded by yourselves, the wards you’d collectively put together at the beginning of Amarantha’s reign, near impenetrable, made news difficult to come by. 
Three days later, a tingling sensation on the back of your neck woke you. It was gone by the time you’d rushed into your kitchen, fingers white-knuckled around a dagger. 
Two letters. One addressed to the inhabitants of the town, wax sealed with the stamp of the Night Court. Next to it, one with just your name. 
Shaking hands, unsteady breaths, you ripped it open, ignoring the sting of a small cut on your index finger.
Your eyes flew over the words. The paper began to fold under your tight grip, edges wrinkling. 
Unsteady breaths, a lone tear dripping down your cheek, it took minutes of pacing and intentional breathing to collect yourself. 
Bringing it back to your room, you climbed half under your bed, sliding a loose board aside and shoved the letter inside, sliding a box over it. That couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. 
Grabbing the other envelope, swinging your door open, a cool spring breeze hitting your face, reddening your cheeks and nose, before heading to share the news. 
You ignored the other implication of the situation. The particular scent lingering on the envelope. You hadn’t thought of him in years, and now wasn’t the time to start. 
-
“The High Lord wants to visit,” the older female breathed, eyes wide as she turned her gaze to you, before frowning. “Why would he ask?”
“He could be having difficulty getting through the wards,” her mate said, covering the female’s hand with his own, mouth curving at the corners, a twinkle of pride. Well deserved, he had painstakingly designed them. 
“Or he’s sending this as a courtesy, they got the letter to us after all,” she snorted, but returned his smile. 
You knew who’d sent the letter. The hint of night chilled mist and cedar so unique you couldn’t have imagined it. 
With Madja’s help, you’d gotten permission from Rhysand to leave Velaris sixty years ago, for a while able to visit every few months until…
You subconsciously rubbed the bargain tattoo on your ribcage. Three stars surrounded by a circle, your promise to never reveal the location of Velaris. 
-
Azriel knew his brother needed a distraction, and frankly - he needed to leave the damn city. The once safe haven that had become a necessary prison. He was too self-aware to discount the other reason, the need to lay eyes on you and see that you were safe, at least somewhat. 
Rhys shot him a curious look when he volunteered too quickly - when Azriel had raised the idea. 
“There’s wards surrounding the island,” he schooled his face neutral - the spymaster, doing his job, “are near impenetrable.” Except perhaps by you or me, he didn’t need to say aloud. Yes, he’d sent shadows to scout the area soon after the curse broke, and they’d brought interesting reports in turn. 
Rhys nodded, and Azriel sat across from him as he wrote out two letters, sealing and sliding them across the table. 
One was addressed to … you. His blink of surprise gave him away.
“You know her?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered. He’d been discreet with his lovers, and of course he was aware Rhys knew, but just because he’d thought of you didn’t mean he wanted to share with others. But … the amused expression in Rhys’s eyes wavered, revealing some of the strain beneath. 
A distraction, that’s what his brother and High Lord needed, and perhaps he could do with a touch of vulnerability. 
“We were involved … before she left.” 
“I know,” Rhys smirked. For fucks sake. “Why do you think I let her leave and keep knowledge of Velaris? It was obvious she could keep a secret - she never said a word about your … involvement, to anyone else.”
Again, something he knew, but he had the decency to show a touch of surprise. 
Azriel raised a brow, a gentle nudge against the shields barricading his mind, and he lowered them slightly. 
“You’re willing to make a bargain?” Rhys leaned back in his chair, you seated before him, fidgeting and brimming with energy. 
“Yes,” your voice was strong and firm. 
“Very well,” his mouth turned up at the corners, a smile designed to put people at ease - it worked on you. 
The bargain was fair and concise. You could leave Velaris, and return as you wish as long as you never revealed or hinted to the name, location, or existence of Velaris. 
Azriel pushed Rhys out, slamming walls back in place. “Why are you showing me this?”
“You want to investigate the island, don’t you?” He wanted to slap the smirk off the other male's face. “She’s one person you know intimately,” Azriel rolled his eyes, “who lives there.” 
“I doubt she would speak to me,” he retorted dryly. 
“You’d be surprised what time and distance can do,” he countered. Az shook his head, he wouldn’t let false hope sink in, hope of regaining your … friendship. Maybe seeing you, even if it was just once, would be enough. 
-
A day later, Azriel stood on a cliff, wards pulsing with magic in front of them. Rhys to his left, Mor flanking his other side, they waited for … well, he wasn’t entirely what. For someone who would let them in. Rhys had sent a charmed parchment, designed to deliver their answer immediately, and everything in the letter sounded perfectly enthusiastic. 
Magic parted enough to reveal an older female and male - centuries older than themselves given the wrinkles starting to line their faces, appearing as if they were close to fading. Both carried themselves with confidence, but a warm and open demeanor as they bowed deeply. 
“Thank you for coming to see us,” the male rasped. 
He took brief notes of their names, the introduction, while sending discreet shadows to poke around the rest of the wards and small community. Due diligence and routine instinct now. They eyed him just a touch of caution, but it didn’t phase him, it never had. 
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “we’ve prepared lunch.” 
“Not at all,” Rhys smiled, the warmth in his tone almost matching the one he used with the citizen’s of Velaris, still laced with subtle authority. 
Less than a quarter of a mile, and they approached a quaint looking town. Stone houses, slightly corroded by salty air, but built sturdily - ready to weather any type of storm. Sure, he’d heard all of this through his shadows but seeing had a different effect. Paved pathways, a few different shops and a tavern. 
“Not much of an economy now,” she was telling Mor, “we trade what we can, all help each other out. Kept to ourselves the last few decades.” Kept to ourselves. 
‘They locked themselves away,’ Rhys’s voice flooded through his mind. “The community is small enough that Amarantha didn’t bother looking.” But they’d been a vital trading port for the Night Court before. He was surprised she’d ignored it. “I was too,” Rhys said. 
Ignored, but she’d considered them anyway. A sickening feeling coiled in his gut. If Amarantha had gotten to you … 
“The healer you recommended,” the male spoke to Rhys, pulling him from his mind, ''saved all our lives when a disease swept through, ‘bout thirty years ago. A great female.” 
“One of the best healers I know,” Rhys replied. It was the truth. As far as healers went, you were one of the best available. He wondered if you knew the other reason you were sent here; If Hybern were to attack the Night Court, they all suspected this Island would be the first target, and a skilled and trustworthy healer was needed on the ground. On the front lines. That sickening feeling returned, and Azriel knew he needed to set his own eyes, not just shadows, on you before he left. 
-
You couldn’t avoid the lunch, not without raising suspicion. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. He was the spymaster, after all, not usually sent to do courtesy visits. Still, this had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks. 
‘The High Lord,’
‘Do you think he’s as handsome as they say?’ 
‘He isn’t mated or married, is he?’ 
Mother above. You had to try and match their excitement, to blend in. They couldn’t know you grew up seeing him frequently in Velaris. All they’d known is you apprenticed with one of the Inner Circle’s preferred healers - and even that was a rumor you’d never confirmed or denied. 
Hand braced on your doorframe, three conscious breaths, and you pushed it open, forcing your hands to relax at your sides, keeping your strides even and steps paced. 
A small crowd had gathered outside of the largest tavern, and you weaved yourself into the fray, balancing on your toes to catch a glimpse through the open doors. 
Hazel eyes connected with yours, and your stomach dropped. 
Just your luck. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the gaze, the way his eyes searched you, the brief hint of relief in them. Why the hell was he relieved? He’d made it perfectly clear you meant little to him, and now he meant nothing to you. 
Slipping backwards, you tore your gaze away and slipped down the street. 
-
“Go ask her some questions,” Rhys had thrown a hint of command into his tone. He wanted Azriel to gain some kind of information from you. It made sense. He wanted, needed, to see you anyway. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.” 
Easy enough for him, Azriel took the next chance to melt into the shadows, to follow you. You led him right to a secluded cliff, sitting a few safe paces back, arms wrapped around your knees, squeezing tighter and he approached from the side - in your line of sight. 
“What do you need?” He wasn’t surprised by the harshness. Pausing a good few paces to your left, he sat, legs kicked out in front of him, bracing his palms on the cold stone. 
“To ask a few questions.” 
“Go ahead,” you muttered, still keeping your eyes off him. 
“How did you remain hidden all of these years?” 
“Magic. Wards. Things Fae more skilled than I created.” 
Truth, a shadow sung in his ear. 
“Who?” 
“You probably already met them,” you groused. He fought back a smirk, he’d forgotten how cute you could be when you were grumpy, and promptly wiped that idea from his mind. 
“Tell me anyway.” 
You listed the two who’d greeted them. Not surprising. It also told him it wasn’t quite a secret, especially with the brief pride flashed in your eyes. 
“Did you have to … give anything to it?”
“Ask them.” 
“I’m asking you,” he countered mildly. You wouldn’t get away with evading his questions. 
“A bit of blood and a bit of magic.” 
He hummed. Rhys would probably ask similar questions, but it was good to hear from another source. 
“Why did you need to come here?” Venom filled your tone. 
“By our High Lord's request,” Azriel said dryly. 
-
By our High Lord’s request. Of course there was no interest in seeing you. You were merely a bonus, a person he could easily ask questions to. You hated yourself for letting the thought cross your mind. 
“I wanted to see you, as well,” you almost missed the softly spoken words. 
“What made you think I want to see you?” You shot at him, finally turning to face him.
“I didn’t say that,” a brief flash in his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you.” 
“You’ve seen me,” you waved a hand. “Any more questions?” Brief silence. “Good. Leave me the fuck alone.” Forever, the narrowing of your eyes said. 
“You should know,” he tilted his head back, this time escaping your gaze. “I didn’t forget about you - I” 
“Just stop,” you hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.” 
The implication struck you - others had forgotten, and he knew that. Azriel leaned forward, eyes on the ocean, knees raising and forearms bracing on them.
“Amarantha may be gone,” a shiver ran down your spine - at the name, and the low and deadly tone, “but Hybern will still cause issues.” War. “Rhys will give the same warning to your town today. Velaris and here may be the safest places in the Night Court.”
“Is he asking us to open the wards?” Because they’d do it in a heartbeat, and you knew that. 
“Perhaps,” Azriel said, and turned back to you, hazel eyes searching for something. “You’d be safe here.”  
“If there’s going to be a fucking war, i’ll be there. Healing.” 
“I know,” an unrecognizable set of emotions flashed in his eyes. “I’d see you there.” 
“I hope not,” you countered, keeping your eyes fixed on the waves, on the white foam topping them. A current so violent only the strongest swimmers braved it. “I might not like you, but I don’t want to see anyone,” you emphasized, “hurt.”
Azriel nodded, and rocked forward, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to you, you ignored it, pushing yourself up and facing the path back to town. 
“Stay safe, spymaster,” you looked over your shoulder, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?” 
A grin crossed your face at the brief ire reflecting on his and you strode off.
taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @sheblogs @macimads  @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92  @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit
438 notes · View notes
danikamariewrites · 20 days
Text
Taking Care of Her
Nesta x reader
A/n: just a small fic about taking care of mommy nesta inspired by @i-am-a-lost-girl16’s headcanons she sent me a while ago
Warnings: slight mdlg and fluff
Tumblr media
Nesta had been wound far too tight since she returned from the Day Court. You knew the Valkyries were working with Helion’s guard on something for the court borders.
Honestly you couldn’t be bothered with the details. Your brain would not comprehend it.
Plus, Nesta liked when you knew less. “Your pretty little brain shouldn’t worry unless I tell you too, baby.” She would say, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
You had let her sleep in this morning. For once giving Nes princess treatment instead of you. She needed a break from everything. You wanted Nesta to not have anything on her mind.
Leaving a note next to the pastry breakfast and coffee you laid out for her you headed out into Velaris. Your goal for the day: pamper Nesta.
You stopped at all of her favorite shops. Buying a new stack of romance books, the biggest box of chocolates the shop had to offer, and stuff for a spa night. Your last stop was Feyre’s studio. You had asked the High Lady for an arts and craft activity the two of you could do and she suggested friendship bracelets. Something she loves to do with Gwyn and Emerie. The two had made you the kit before going up to Emerie’s for the weekend. After thanking Feyre you left making one last stop for lunch on the way home.
Entering the house you can feel how tense Nesta is. “Nes,” you call out sweetly. You’re met with silence as you call out again for your girlfriend. Creeping into the kitchen you hear the familiar beats of Nesta’s fists against the punching bag in the backyard.
Dropping all the bags on the table you rush outside to check on her. Approaching slowly, but loudly as to not startle her, you clear your throat. Keeping your arms folded tights against your midsection.
Nesta whipped around. Her hair sticking to her sweaty face, chest heaving as she calmed down from her workout. Realizing it’s you standing in front of her Nesta dropped her fists, her expression becoming friendlier. You knew she didn’t want you to worry about her but that’s your job.
“Hey baby,” she cooed through deep breaths. “Where did you go this morning? I wanted to have breakfast with you.” You give Nesta a small smile as you take one of her wrapped hands in yours.
“I know you’ve been stressed and I want us to relax today.” Before Nesta could say no you cut her off, “I’m not suggesting you relax Nes, I’m telling you. I am taking care of you today. Ok mommy,” you coo at her, giving her those doe eyes you know she can’t resist. You start undoing the wrappings and kiss Nesta’s knuckles before doing the same to her other hand.
Pulling Nesta inside you unbox lunch and stand at the island eating your sandwiches together, talking about mindless gossip. You pulled her upstairs for a bath, sitting her in the tub between your legs.
“Baby, you don’t have to do this. I should be taking care of you.” You let out a sigh, tugging on her hair to force her to relax against your chest. Nesta can punish you for that another day. “Hush, mommy. I want to do this for you because I love you.” You kiss the top of her head for emphasis, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.
After the bath you put on your matching bathrobes and snack on the chocolates while you make bracelets for each other. Wearing your new bracelets you snuggle on the couch and Nesta reads one of her new books to you. She plays with your hair as you lay on her lap.
Once the sun sets you pull Nesta upstairs for the last step of your relaxing day. You adjust the pillows so you each have a comfy spot. “You first,” you smirk at Nesta, straddling her lap. Gently washing her face, giving her small kisses in between steps. Nesta flips you, giving you a fierce kiss that takes your breath away. Pulling away Nesta has a shit eating grin on her face. “Your turn,” she whispers.
With your face masks on and a glass of wine in hand you feed each other what's left of the chocolates. “I love seeing you relaxed.” You whisper, staring at your mate lovingly. Nesta leans over to give you a small kiss. “Thank you, sweet girl. For everything today.”
“I’d do anything for you mommy. I know you would for me.” Nesta kisses you again, “Let’s get these off. I wanna go to bed and snuggle with my baby.” You let out an excited sound and scramble out of bed.
65 notes · View notes
queercontrarian · 6 months
Text
Rhysand Week Day 4: Court of Dreams
Tumblr media
To The Stars Who Listen
Rhysand is more than 500 years old. He has had many dreams throughout his long life. These are some of them.
@officialrhysandweek
Rhys is seven years old. He dreams of traveling the world. They don’t get visitors often in the Court under the mountain, but when they do they always have the most fascinating stories to tell. He wants to be a traveling merchant and a scholar and a pirate. He wants to see the Continent, and the islands, and all the other Courts. Being stuck in one season forever sounds strange to him, and he wonders why there is no Eternal Night in his father’s Court. He consults his cousin Mor and their tutors and the books and even the High Lord himself but no one can give him an answer. He supposes he’ll understand when he’s older. Cauldron, he wants to be older. Once he’s an adult he’ll finally get to travel and read all the books in the library he isn’t allowed to touch and talk to whoever he wants to and no one will be able to tell him no. He dreams of going everywhere, seeing and knowing everything there is to see and know.
Rhys is eight years old. He knows he can't stay in Velaris forever but Illyria scares him. It’s colder here, and he’s alone a lot with his mother and their guards. He doesn’t get to see Mor much anymore, and he misses her colorful imagination and funny comments, even being bored together during their joint lessons. He doesn't miss his father as much, who stays away from Illyria for reasons he doesn't yet understand, although he wishes he could show the High Lord his progress. Maybe he'd finally see him once he becomes a great warrior like the males at camp. But before that can happen Rhysand needs to become the best. The best at training, fighting, leading. Anything less would be unacceptable for the Heir to the Night Court. He’s not here to make friends. Still, Illyria is a lonely place for a child. He dreams of finding a companion.
Rhys is fourteen years old and he dreams of flying alongside his brothers in the sky they rule. They have so many ideas, so many dreams to share in the dead of night, huddled together in Cassian’s room. They’ll reshape his father’s Court, they’ll make every place in the Night Court as safe as Velaris is.
There’s a freedom found in their trio that Rhys never knew before; the freedom to speak his mind, to share his thoughts as they pop into his head, without stiff traditionalist judgment or anyone snitching to his father. Cassian and Azriel don’t belong to the Court - they’re Rhysand’s, and he will make sure nothing and no one can ever separate them again.
Rhys is sixteen years old and he wants to shatter the mountain his father’s throne rests in, wants to challenge his father's right to rule just for this. For allowing Mor, his Mor, to be taken. He dreams of sending him and Keir to the beasts under the mountain and making them fend for themselves the way they had surrendered his cousin to Autumn. He dreams of declaring war on the Court and taking Beron and Eris Vanserra's heads as trophy. He dreams of bringing Mor back to Velaris, where she would be safe, and free. He dreams of being free, too. He’s not so sure anymore that there is anything to save in this Court of Dreams and Nightmares. He only knows that if he were High Lord, he never would have let this happen.
Rhys is 29 years old. War has come to Prythian, and while Night has no stake in the cause of the humans or the petty disputes of the Seasonal Courts, the North is sharpening the sword. He knows that behind closed doors, his father is conferring with Ozias on whether Day and Night should involve themselves in the War. He also recognizes that his father has no noble reasons to join the fight, but that he will not pass up the opportunity to war with Spring and Summer.
Frankly, Rhysand doesn’t much care what will convince his father. He wants to fight for what's right. He wants to show the rest of Prythian what he and his brothers are capable of. They will defend Night, they will put Hybern and Spring and Summer in their place. They dream of being heroes, of victory, honor and glory.
Rhysand is 31 years old and he dreams of going home. He dreams of his mother, who stayed behind, alone in their home in Velaris. He dreams of seeing Cassian and Azriel again. He doesn’t even know if his brothers are alive, and for the first time in his life he prays, to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to any god who will listen. He dreams of an end to the war. His father's letters are short, and he’s taking so long to respond to Rhysand’s requests for support. Rhysand doesn’t think that’s a good sign.
Rhysand is 33 years old and he can't sleep. The desert is cold at night and the commander's tent is lonely. He’s far from home, from friends or family. He hears his soldiers crying out in the night, and knows many of them won’t make it to morning. Most of them are his age, some even younger. He hears them die, knows every last thought as life bleeds out of them. Their fear is so loud that it’s impossible to ignore. They dream of their family, of loved ones left behind at home or on the battlefield. Every dream is an accusation. We had so much life left to live. We didn’t have to die.
Whose dream did we die for?
Rhys is 35 years old. They have returned from the war to find his mother with a small bundle of black wings and dark curls in her arms. He has a baby sister. Her name is Cecilia Riona. She is so small and strange and wonderful and when Rhysand is woken up by nightmares he crosses the hallway and sits in the nursery for hours instead of sleeping. More often than not he finds Cassian or Azriel already there, watching over their sister. They marvel at how quickly the center of their world has shifted. They think they understand now. This strange little girl is the reason the brothers needed to keep going. She is everything they fought for, what they suffered, killed and nearly died for. She is their Stars Eternal and they vow that as long as they live, nothing will ever hurt her.
Rhysand is 75 years old and he hasn’t flown since the War. His wings won’t work as they used to. They feel like they are encased in stone. Even when he manages to make them appear they hang heavy from his back, dragging him down with them. He's in pain all the time, his body stiff and aching with the weight of his leaden wings. Some days he thinks they'll break his spine. Some days he thinks he might be better off if they did.
Riona is 40 years old now and has long since learned to fly without him. His sister explores the sky above the Night Court with Cassian and Azriel while he stays behind like some old invalid, too weak and damaged to even lift his useless wings higher than his own shoulders. His mother remains with him, and he knows she means well but it makes him feel worse. He’s holding her back. He’s holding all of them back. His brothers look at him with pity. He feels cheated out of his youth.
Rhysand is 85 years old and he dreams of a quiet century, of a continent no longer falling to petty conflicts and the whims of egomaniacs. He’s accepted that he can’t rely on his wings anymore but suppressing them has made the problem worse. They break through his skin uncontrolled, like they have a mind of their own. They’re no longer cold, instead they burn and burn and nothing will soothe or settle them. He’s come to a point where he would rather live without them than spend another sleepless night on the floor because his body won’t let him relax. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have his wings clipped. He wonders how anyone can stand it. He dreams of feeling nothing at all.
Rhysand is 87 years old and he dreams of peace between Night and Spring, of an end to the feud that has lasted for much longer than he or even his father have been alive. He's so tired of the fighting. He doesn’t have much hope that Aldwig and Gawain will ever get along, but he’s found a tentative ally in the third son, Tamlin. Rhys is confident that he can get the male to cooperate with him, and he’s been so desperate for a project, for a challenge, that he will cling to every shred of hope he can draw out of the Spring Court princeling. Maybe in his lifetime there will finally be peace. And wouldn't that be something worth fighting for.
Rhys is 90 years old and he's flying again. He's slowly been putting himself back together, piece after piece handed to him by a stranger. He dreams of cool Spring nights, of music, of dancing in the dark with flowers in his hair. He dreams of green grass glistening with dew in the morning, of freedom, of seeing his stars from another angle. He finally feels as young as he is.
Rhys is 100 years old and he’s split down the middle. There are few nights where he doesn't travel south to see Tamlin. Their fathers can't know, so they meet in the other Courts where there are fewer eyes on them, and they don’t interact in public beyond what little diplomacy is expected in their respective roles. Cassian and Azriel are the only ones who know that their secret alliance has bloomed into an even more secret friendship, and even though they don’t exactly approve they don’t say anything. They're his, after all, not his father's. And so is Tamlin.
Together, they break into Thesan’s herb garden and the forbidden lower levels of the library on Thíva, they brave the deep forests of the Middle and climb The Mountain to touch the sky. Rhys is barely sleeping but he's happy. He’s so ridiculously, obscenely happy that it feels like a dream.
Rhys is 112 years old and he dreams of killing the High Lord of the Spring Court, slowly, painfully. He wants to break every bone in his body like he has broken his son’s bones. He wants to make him bleed. He wants to shred his mind to pieces. But more than that he wants to grab Tamlin and take him somewhere far away from his horrible family. Maybe the Night Court. Maybe further. Maybe they'll travel the world together, like he once dreamed when he was a child. Their options are endless, he only needs to convince Tamlin to take the leap with him.
Rhys is 134 years old and he’s in love for the first time. He’s been in love for a while now, but he doesn’t quite understand it yet and to be perfectly honest he’s scared of understanding, of grasping fully what that means for him, and for his Court. All he knows is that for better or for worse, everything will change if he dares to act on these feelings. So he doesn’t dare. Not yet. I love you. It's on the tip of his tongue and he dreams of being brave enough to say it. He just needs a little more time.
Rhysand is 135 years old and he is wide awake. Now that the shock is wearing off all that remains is the pain. There is so much of it, and he doesn’t know where to put it, so he locks it inside. Rhysand is caving in on himself. He dreams of turning back time just a few weeks. He dreams of being ignorant again.
Rhysand is 138 years old and he dreams of giving it all back. He doesn’t want to be High Lord anymore. He’s barely holding on; the only reason he’s still standing is because Cassian and Azriel hold him up. He feels so heavy. He dreams of flying with his mother and sister.
Rhysand is 185 years old. There is an uprising in Illyria. He wanted to be different from his father, do more, do better. It turns out he has neither the energy nor the support to change things. Later, he tells himself. He dreams of a time where he didn't have his own people's blood on his hands.
Rhysand is 216 years old. Mor is back from the Continent. She'll be taking over the Hewn City for a short time while he recuperates, and then they'll restructure the Court together just like they dreamed they would when they were younger. They'll fix it, he knows they can. But at night, when he's all alone again, he dreams of finding an equal, someone to share this burden with.
Rhysand is 335 years old. It's been 200 years since he last saw his mother. He hasn't slept in nearly a year. He dreams of her dark curly hair, and of Riona’s clever eyes. He sees them every time he looks in the mirror. He hopes he never forgets them, no matter how much it hurts to remember.
Rhys is 417 years old and he’s soaked from head to toe in ice cold water. The snow is wet and heavy this year and he’s lost their snowball fight for the first time in six years. The pure joy on Cassian’s face is worth the cold feet though, and knowing there’s a nice hot steam room waiting for them makes everything more bearable. Later, they will join Mor and Amren at the Townhouse to exchange gifts. He has a family again, one that is whole, one that sees his dreams as he sees theirs. His Court of Dreams.
Rhysand is 486 years old and his dreams have turned into nightmares. Only this one he can’t wake from. He is trapped and there is nothing he can do.
Rhysand is 500 years old and he dreams of home. He dreams of Velaris, tucked safely in the shadow of the mountains out west. He dreams of his family. At least his family is safe.
Rhysand is 514 years old and he dreams of running away, far away, somewhere she can't touch him. He dreams of the greenest grass, of clear, cool nights and flowers, a life that feels so far removed from the one he's living now.
Rhysand is 520 years old and he dreams of the warmth of his mother’s arms. He dreams of the sun on his face, of the silver glow of the moon in the sky. He dreams of stars. He hasn’t seen his stars in so long.
Rhys is 534 years old. He dreams of her and only her, every night. His mate. One day, she will share his dreams. One day, they will dream together.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
54 notes · View notes
reverie-tales · 3 months
Text
I Get to Love You
Chapter 2
@acotargiftexchange
Tumblr media
Summary: This is the story of a male who loved his mate, his High Lady, and the mother of his child, told from his perspective. A glimpse of selected events mentioned in ACOSF from Rhysand's POV. Three chapters that can be individually read as one-shots. 
Notes:
- For my giftee @dreamlandreader . 🩷 Happy New Year! I'm sorry chapter 2 took so long!
- A special thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher, @asnowfern, and @tealeaves-and-rosepetals for the support, beta-reading, and generally being the best people an anxious writer could ever ask for. @popjunkie42 thanks for entertaining me every time I drop my random snippets in your inbox. You're the greatest.
- CW: Angst
- Word Count: 2310 AO3
.
.
Chapter 2: We Are Buried in Broken Dreams
Tumblr media
The Seraphim soared above the skies. The morning sunlight shone upon their white, feathered wings, bringing a glimmer of hope to Rhysand's tremulous heart. Ever since Madja warned him of the risks of the baby having wings, he has been a wreck on the verge of condemning the world into forgotten darkness for daring to take away his mate and child. But his mate, the light of his darkest night, centered him every moment his own eyes met hers—joyous blue-gray eyes with never-ending starlight as she held onto her belly and that vibrant hope for the future.
It pained him to be away from Feyre. The mating bond punished him with suffocating smoke coursing through his blood, fogging his senses, for venturing away from his pregnant mate. Yet the same bond bellowed him to find a solution—urging him to save his mate, their child—to save them both. It was maddening. It was damnation. It was damnation Rhysand would go through over and over if it meant they would survive.
At the sound of rushing footsteps coming, Rhysand abandoned his pained thoughts. Yesterday, he sent an encrypted message through the newly established spell between Velaris and Cretea that would allow continued communication between territories. He had informed Miryam and Drakon of his imminent arrival but didn't wait for their response to come through since messages take a day to arrive due to the complexity of the spell that ensures the island's location stays hidden. At the crack of dawn, he kissed his sleepy mate goodbye, and he made his way toward Cretea. Feyre knew where he was going. She didn't know it was for her and the baby's sake.
He landed on the sandstone castle's terrace, overlooking the neighboring shoreline where the gushing sea waves met sand. His wings were out and he took pleasure in the island's cool breeze. Promptly, he was met with an attendant that took it upon themselves to find Miryam and Drakon.
Stepping away from a post, he caught Miryam rounding a corner, walking a foot ahead of her mate in visible excitement. Every stride she took caused her dark curls to bounce. "Rhys! Back so soon? Have you brought Feyre with you?" she greeted him.
Catching up with his mate, Drakon chuckled and clasped a hand on Rhysand's shoulder. "Sorry, dear friend. It seems Miryam favors the pleasant company of your mate over us males these days."
"I cannot blame her," Rhysand responded to Drakon. He met Miryam's expectant brown eyes. "No, unfortunately Feyre is not with me this time, though she shares the same fondness for your company, Miryam," Rhysand answered with half a smile.
"We received your urgent message this morning. Does your arrival have anything to do with the new treaty?" Drakon asked.
"There has been hesitation from certain territories on signing, but no, I have come for a more pressing concern."
"Pfft! Fae territories, I am certain," Miryam spoke. "What is more pressing, then?"
Placing a hand in his pocket, "Feyre is pregnant," he announced.
Miryam gasped, "But that's wonderful news!"
"Congratulations! Mother bless you both!" said Drakon.
Rhysand nodded. "Indeed it is. Feyre and I couldn't be more thrilled." His voice hoarse, close to croaking, he added quickly before his brave facade faltered. "However, the baby has Illyrian wings. With Feyre being High Fae and forbidden to use her shifting powers while she's pregnant, there's a high risk. There's a possibility she and the baby could die during delivery."
Miryam rushed to his side. "That can't be! Is there anything we can do to help?"
With his powerful hands still grasping his shoulder, holding Rhysand steady, Drakon added, "Yes, do let us know. We'll do everything to help."
"I was hoping you both would say that." Turning to Drakon, Rhysand asked, "Do any of your Seraphim healers perhaps have special methods for safe delivery of a winged baby by a non-winged mother?” Shifting his attention to Miryam, "You were able to carry and deliver your beautiful winged children. Maybe the same could be for Feyre."
"Oh, Rhys," Miryam voiced softly, her face crestfallen as she glanced at his wings.
"Please," he begged. It wasn't beneath him to beg, especially for Feyre. He was not a calm and collected High Lord of the Night Court today, but a male desperately asking his friends to help him save his mate.
Miryam and Drakon shared a look with each other, one he knew so well. An ongoing silent conversation between mates. He didn't dare intrude with his Daemati powers, even as he was dying to know what they couldn't say out loud around him. All he could do was tuck his wings back, bracing for whatever they intended to tell him.
Drakon spoke too gently, as if he knew Rhysand had laid all of his hopes on them. "We're deeply sorry, Rhys. The Seraphim's wings are flexible and rounded. Our wings bend easily during birth. There are no known special methods. At least not from our healers."
"Neither have I encountered any complications during labor due to the baby having wings," voiced Miryam too apologetically, knowing it hurt Rhysand to hear it. "Nor have my people."
And just like that, the truth sank into Rhysand's skin and bones. The answer to saving Feyre and baby wasn't in Cretea, where the Miryam and Drakon found a safe haven to build their lives together—to grow their family. No. For all the threads of fated similarities he and Feyre shared with his mated friends, this is where they diverge. Miryam and Drakon obtained their happily ever after, and Cauldron be damned, nothing will ever make him happy again if he were to lose Feyre and the baby. Their final bargain was a small solace knowing that if Feyre would leave the world behind, he would go with her.
The ground shook, or was it him that was shaking? He couldn't tell. Pity and fear were painted on his friends' faces. He felt the helplessness creeping upon him then—the same one he felt the day he uncovered his mother and sister's heads in boxes sent down the river. Agonizing helpness. He felt his guilt-driven and grief-stricken darkness escape his clutches, sucking out the sunlight as his knees gave out. He fell so hard that the ground cracked beneath him.
His mental shields wavered for a brief moment. Panicked concern for him rushed down the bond from his mate. "No, I'm fine, darling, I promise. Everything is alright," he lied, reassuring her. But nothing was fine, as Drakon had to embrace him to keep himself from falling apart further. Fortifying his shields, he hoped Feyre believed him. What a wretched and useless mate he was.
When he gathered his bearings, Miryam and Drakon urged him to stay longer. They didn't believe he was in a condition to travel after his breakdown. He nearly covered the entire island in darkness at one point, terrifying the poor denizens of Cretea. Grateful as he was for the generosity and kindness of his friends, he couldn't stay any longer. If there was no specialized method for winged delivery to learn, then there was no point in being oceans away from his mate. Time was a precious commodity that they didn't have enough of.
With a promise from Miryam and Drakon that they would leave no stone unturned to help search for a way to help Feyre and the baby, he bid his friends farewell. He patted Drakon on the shoulder and kissed Miryam on the cheek. Two equally tear-stained brown eyes followed him as he spread his wings and launched himself into the midmorning skies. In a powerful wingbeat, he left Cretea behind.
Tumblr media
If Rhysand had been honest with himself, winnowing would have brought him home sooner. Regretfully, he was not ready to face Feyre yet, no matter how much he yearned for her presence. No matter that his instincts demanded him to be by her side—to protect her and their unborn child. He would have crumbled at the sight of her beautiful, glowing self and told her the truth about their circumstances. No. He had to be strong for them. He would not take away her joy. He would not extinguish that light. So he had flown, flapping his wings despite the biting sting of autumn winds or the ache of muscles from a long voyage. Was he punishing himself? If he was truly honest with himself, maybe he was.
A mile from Velaris' shields, he vanished his wings and winnowed straight to the River House. Feyre was out meeting with charity organizers at the studio. He closed his eyes, folding into space and time—a specific room in his mind. He did not desire his people to see how distraught their High Lord flying overhead of them was when they were supposed to be at peace and thriving. After being absent for fifty uncertain years, his people deserved to see their High Lord adept and in control—at the very least most of the time.
Although his inner circle would argue that after everything he had sacrificed for them, no one would even dare question a slip from his unbothered mask when everyone was merely grateful that he was back. But had he really sacrificed enough? Maybe he could have sacrificed himself more wholly. Why else would fate be cruel to his mate and their unborn child if not to punish him?
His worst inner voice echoed: Is this not a repercussion? What else could it be than the fate of a High Lord who failed to stop Amarantha from slaughtering two dozen winter court children?
Fuck! Oh Fuck the Cauldron!
He truly did not deserve them! But he rebelled against that beastly, torturous voice inside his head.
"THEY DO NOT DESERVE THIS!" he roared and opened his eyes.
Rhysand was standing inside the nursery, unbidden tears rolling down his face. The midnight blue-themed nursery was enchanted with the warmth of love, chasing away the coldness that clung to his skin after leaving Cretea and fighting inner demons. It wasn't magic's doing, but Feyre's. Every single thing his eyes laid upon was her choice, from the plush carpet underneath his booth extending to the crib to the starry wall lined with books and toys.
He circled the room and reached out to touch the border of a wall painted with the beginnings of a story. A faerie dreaming of human hands painting the night sky. Their story.
"Our baby may be too young to know the entirety of how his parents came together," Feyre told him the first time she showed it to him, "but maybe every night when we put him to bed, he'll have this little glimpse of us."
A glimpse of the beginnings of his family.
Rhysand slumped down on the carpet. Recalling that tender moment was his breaking point. Shattering his heart into a million pieces. He needed to put himself together. But he was there all alone, refusing to burden his mate with the chaos of his soul.
Did he need to find Cassian? Did he need his brother to punch him into oblivion like he did the day before? He had taken those powerful blows to his face, those stomach-emptying punches to his abdomen, those kicks to the legs, and didn't defend himself. His own twisted sort of self-punishment until Cassian roared at him, "Fight back!"
Fight back for Feyre and the baby.
He would. He always would.
He balled his hand into a fist, channeled all his rage for the injustice of it all, and struck back hard.
They were two bloodied messes after they had sparred.
However, he was losing it all over again. Spiraling.
He ran a hand through his hair.
He needed to make plans. He needed to find a solution. He needed to ask for help from more of his allies. He would beg on his knees if he had to. Trade everything and anything.
He needed to go to Dawn. To Thesan. Surely the High Lord of Healing would know a procedure that would save Feyre and the baby. He needed to go to Day. To Helion. Surely one of the many thousand libraries would hold the answer to his desperate question.
But then. Just then, alone in the nursery with his sorrow, he succumbed to his heart-wrenching fear.
He was so painfully lost that he could no longer see clearly. Closing his eyes once more. He forgot about time and space. Nevertheless, the sacred bond between mates wouldn't let him bear the heavy weight of his burdens alone.
Gentle, warm hands he would recognize in any cosmic universe cupped his face. There was no shield hindering Rhysand from Feyre's touch. He didn't know how she managed to break it, but he wasn't surprised that she could, and all thoughts of shields fled his mind when his mate whispered, "Rhys, my love, please I'm here."
He opened his eyes to see his pregnant mate kneeling beside him on the nightfallen nursery's floor. The moonlight streamed through the open window, lighting her face. How much time had passed? She was frowning and worried for his sake. He knew right then and there that sooner rather than later, his mate deserved to know the truth. The truth that he cowardly ordered to be kept hidden. She deserved to hear it from his lips, her mate, and no one else.
His mouth tried to utter the words, but all he could manage was a sob, and Feyre—even not knowing the whole truth—understood that it was her that he needed the most and held on to him. Anchoring him until he could face the world once more.
He truly did not deserve her. Even right then she was still his salvation. His very hope.
Tumblr media
Thank you for reading! 🥰
🌌 Fic Masterlist
29 notes · View notes