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florencemtrash · 5 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath.

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.”

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control.

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city.

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign.

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all.

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor.

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus.

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there.

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking.

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion.

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating.

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!”

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else.

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away.

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade.

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.”

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-”

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria.

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again.

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops.

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger.

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.”

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

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Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

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munsons-hellfire · 2 months

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Hi there!! i saw you’re gonna start writing for acotar! can i request a helion x reader where it’s a double date but theyre both like no we’re just third and fourth wheeling nbd but maybe there’s an ulterior motive somewhere to get them to realize their feelings for each other??

We’re Just Friends | Helion

SUMMARY: You and Helion are oblivious to each other's feelings until you arent.

PAIRINGS: Helion x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: SFW, fluff, angst.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: You have no idea how excited I was when I got this request. I had come up with two ideas for this and ended up going with the more angstier version because I loved it so much. I also added a little more to it because I wanted to build something between the reader and Helion. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Thank you for requesting for Helion, he is one of my favorites from ACOTAR so I had a lot of fun with this!

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

You’d been a member of the Night Court since you were born. With friends such as Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel you were able to escape Illyria before they had a chance to clip your wings. You’d found your family became of those three males. You were an emissary to the Night Court, often traveling between Courts to form a bond to have an ally in any future war. The Autumn Court and Spring Court were courts you often avoided if you could.

You knew the history between Rhys and Tamlin and couldn’t stand the male. You didn’t get along with Beron in the least. Always trying to defy what he wanted to do. One High Lord in particular had caught your attention. Helion had taken the opportunity to get to know you, he’d befriended you and whenever you visited his Court it was hard for your friends to separate you from him.

Before Amarantha happened they could see the love that was there between you and Helion. Rhys kept quiet, as did the others but they knew something would happen between you and Helion eventually. When they were trapped Under the Mountain and you were locked up in Velaris everything had changed for you. You’d become a shell of your former self and even when Prythian had been free at the hands of a human who risked her life in the process and died, you still hadn’t managed to pull through.

The months leading to the return of Rhys you started seeing Helion again, slowly but surely becoming yourself again. It was even more of a reason that Rhys and all your other friends believed that you and Helion were mates. But there wasn’t time to say anything right now with a fight on its way. The war had been fought and won. Rhys had died in the process only to be brought back.

Everything seemed to be right in Prythian. After the way you’d stayed with Vassa and Jurian to help rebuild whatever was left standing. You’d found a friendship with the two, and eventually Lucien when he joined them. Upon returning back from the work you’d helped with in the Human lands Helion had requested that you become his emissary for the Day Court.

Helion had seen how much you’d managed to accomplish in the months after the war against Hybern was over. He knew you’d be a great addition to his court, he also knew you’d look better in Day Court colors. After a talk with Rhys and Feyre, your High Lord and High Lady you had their approval. You said your goodbyes to your family, promising to come visit whenever you could and you left.

It had been 10 years since the events of the war. Things were steady now. You had everything you ever wanted, accepted you knew there was still something missing from your life. When Feyre and Rhys invited you and Helion to join them in Velaris for an outing, you couldn’t say no to them. Helion had agreed, though there wasn’t much you’d have to say to convince the male to go with you.

He enjoyed being wherever you were, so if you want to go see your family he’d follow along with you. The night had started out wonderful, you and Helion had met up with Rhys and Feyre as a casual get together, but they had other plans in mind. The mated couple was going to get you and Helion together by the end of the night. They still didn’t understand how either of you could’ve gone this long being so oblivious to the fact that you and Helion were in love with each other.

Helion couldn’t bring himself to admit it, he was afraid to lose you as a friend or worse to someone else. Meanwhile you were afraid of his rejection. He was a High Lord after all so he’d have every right to say no to you if you’d so much as mention your affections for him. The four of you sat at a table in a restaurant in Velaris. You’d given Feyre an odd look when she had mentioned that this was a double date.

You had finished your food, your eyes were on Helion as he talked to Rhys and Feyre about something. You weren’t sure what he was talking about. You’d been so focused on his face that his words slipped right through your ears. You blinked, finally taking notice that all eyes were on you. Suddenly you felt as though you’d miss something.

“Oh, you did, sister.” Rhys whispered in your mind. You glared at him, throwing your shields up to block him.

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” You asked softly, not looking at Helion, afraid that you’d disappointed him by missing something so important.

“I was just wondering if you’d be coming to see the rest of the family later tonight, maybe bring Helion.” Feyre said, her eyes planted on you. A smirk rested on her lips. You knew that she was having a mind conversation with Rhys.

“Oh, I’m sure Helion wants to head back home soon, so maybe another time.” You didn’t miss the way Helion had smirked at your comment.

“Nonsense, I think we can stay a little bit longer.” Helion remarked, a smile on his lips. You gripped your drink, sipping the wine slowly.

“Great.” Feyre said excitedly.

“Maybe we can even get you two together.” Rhys said, causing you to choke on your wine. You put your glass down, attempting to stop the coughing fit.

Finally you were able to get words out. “We’re just friends, Rhys.” You said, and it was a simple answer. Feyre and Rhys had caught the look of hurt that had crossed Helion’s face when those words had slipped from your lips.

“Yes, we’re just friends.” You winced, it was almost like Helion had been hurt by your choice of words. You felt you couldn’t breathe, you were being suffocated by everything around you. This was not what you’d expected to happen tonight.

“Excuse me, I need some air.” You were quick to get up and leave the restaurant before any of them could protest. The cool air hit your skin when you walked out the door. You walked down to the bridge that overlooked Velaris and the Sidra river.

More than anything you wanted to be with Helion, you knew you’d been in love with him for so long. So why did your words affect him so much, you were so certain that he didn’t feel the same way about you. That you were just an Illyrian female he wanted to bed. Your wings moved in closer to protect you from any passersby as you let the tears fall down your face.

“So that’s what I am to you, a friend?” His voice was cold, distant as the question left his mouth.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not when you were still crying over what had happened. You should’ve known that Helion would chase after you.

“I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” You said, pulling your wings back and tucking them in tightly as you turned to look at the male.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I just, I mean we are friends. There’s nothing between us so why does it matter?” You were really hurting him, you knew that.

“Because.” He whispered softly.

“Because isn’t an answer.” You watched as he walked closer to you, closing the space between you and him. His hand gently touched your cheek. You looked at him with a glimmer of hope, of love in your eyes.

“Because I love you, I have loved you since I first met you. I have loved you since I discovered you were my mate. And I will continue to love you until it is my time to leave this world behind.”

You felt your heart picking up its pace at his words. You could hear the honesty coming from him. And then it happened, you felt it, that gold string tie around your heart. You gasped, your hand flying to your chest as you felt the strength of the bond pick up between you and Helion. Finally he smiled, still looking at you.

“But all this time, you, you were seeing other’s.” You felt yourself cracking waiting for his answer.

“It was just for a fun time. I may bring other lovers into our bed, but they will never be able to replace anything. I fell for you, my sunshine. You are the light in my life that I’ve been waiting so long for.” You released a broken laugh, tears falling down your face. “Please don’t cry my love.” He whispered as he kissed the tears away.

“I’m just so happy.” You whispered, pushing your hands into his wavy hair. “Because I've loved you since the moment I met you too. And I am so thrilled to be your mate.” He smiled at your words and brought his lips to yours kissing you softly. Cheering could be heard in the background. You and Helion pulled apart from each other to look at your family that had been nearby.

“I think it worked, Feyre, darling.” Rhys said, as the mated couple walked towards you and Helion.

A smile rested on your lips and you pushed yourself closer to Helion as he wrapped his hand around your waist. It was the happy ending you’d been looking for, your mate. And now that you’d discovered everything that happened between you and him was the bond’s way of informing you, you couldn’t be more happy.

“I hate you all.” You whispered, resting your head on Helion’s chest.

“I don’t think so. If it hadn’t been for them inviting you to dinner neither of you would’ve known.” Cassian remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Not true, General. I’ve always known about the bond.” At this you looked up at Helion.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked him.

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship in case I was wrong, or the Mother was wrong, or something happened. So many reasons, and I just don’t care because I have you now and that’s all that matters.” He placed a kiss on your head.

“No more lies, promise?” You whispered.

“No more lies, I promise.” The bargain was set, a slight sting of pain ran through your forearm as a bargain tattoo was crafted. The night sky mixed with the sun. A bargain between you and your mate. The happiest of endings, one you were so thankful for.

#reader insert #x reader #a court of thorns and roses #the night court #helion x reader #helion x you #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #the day court #rhysand #feyre archeron #inner circle #cassian #morrigan

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bloomingdarkgarden · 8 months

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Chapter 30

Azriel and Elain fall beneath a dying sun.

#elriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel #elain archeron #the day court

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velidewrites · 1 year

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A Court of Thorns and Roses Locations

⤷ THE DAY COURT

For @houseofhurricane

#acotarlocations #the day court #the day court acotar #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar moodboard #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #sjm

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teddyhoneybear · 3 months

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Day Court has always piqued my curiosity and I can't wait to see it explored more in the next books (hopefully).

I want to see the descriptions of the outfits, the ones with Cleopatra vibes, revealing, airy, yet elegant and refined clothes, gold jewelry in the shape of snakes, the coveted parties, even the orgies, which bring to mind the idea of debauchery, sensuality and lust, something typical of the gods, how they indulge in luxury, while holding the power of wisdom.

And besides the vast library and knowledge they display, I want to see the traditions and customs of the faes there and how they enjoy themselves, because, oh boy, I think they are number one in Prythian in knowing how to party.

I would also like to see some sophisticated and sassy queer characters, because I think Day Court is a safe place, perfect for inclusion, and also a beautiful blend between great knowledge, pleasure and opulence.

#acotar #day court #helion spell cleaver #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain #pro elucien #day #sun #light #elucien #sjm books #day court aesthetic #the day court #acotar series

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slinkywhat · 2 months

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AI-generated illustrations of Prythia and other locations from the A Court of Thorns and Roses series.

The Night Court, Velaris, the House of Wind

The Spring Court, Tamlin's manor

The Summer Court, Adriata, Tarquin's palace

The Autumn Court

The Winter Court

The Dawn Court

The Day Court

Illyria

The Archeron Manor in the mortal lands

The Hewn City, Court of Nightmares

The Night Court prison

The Library at the House of Wind

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sunshinebingo · 1 year

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Detained in the Day Court

Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn have been imprisoned in the Day Court. What could they have done to end up there?

This is about my favourite Valkyries being silly and fun!! Also includes some Gwynriel because they own my heart ♥

Word count: 1.7k

Read on Ao3

“What the fuck is this?” Azriel’s shadows writhed around him as he tried to make sense of the letter Rhysand has just received from Helion stating that three of his Valkyries were currently being detained in the Day Court.

“Did you send them on a mission there without telling us Rhys?,” Cassian asked the High Lord, failing to keep his rising anger at bay.

Cassian wasn’t the only one loosing his temper. As soon as he had read the letter, Azriel’s shadows had been incessantly whispering all sorts of things to him. The Valkyries are in danger. We need to save Gwyn. She needs us. Azriel wanted to tell them that Emerie and Nesta were also in potential danger, but like his shadows, he couldn’t help but think about Gwyn only. Not that she could not defend herself. But Azriel would not forgive himself if anything happened to her while he could have prevented it. Helion might be one of their allies, a friend to them also, but that didn’t mean that any punishment he would inflict upon those who try to harm his court would be clement.

“No I did not,” Rhysand firmly stated. “I was hoping one of you would know what they are doing there. And more importantly what could they have done to justify being detained.”

Azriel abruptly stood up from his seat across the desk. “The only way to find out is to go there now and get them out.” He would not stand there and keep talking while gods knew what was happening to the Valkyries in the Day Court. As they walked out of the High Lord’s office, Azriel mentally prepared to unleash himself on anyone who has dared harm his Gwyn. No just Gwyn. Not his.

As they reached the outside of the River House, Cassian turned to face Rhysand. “I don’t care if Helion is one us Rhys. If any of those Day Court fuckers has laid a hand on them I swear to the Mother I will make them regret it.”

“Let’s not make any rash decision Cass,” Rhysand said calmly. “I care about them too but we need to assess the situation first.”

Before Cassian could mumble a protest, Rhysand placed his hands in his brothers’ shoulders and they winnowed to the Day Court.

.....

As soon as they stepped foot in the Day Court, the three males were greeted by one of Helion’s guards. One look at them and the guard was fumbling for words. The male was slightly trembling as he apologised for the absence of the High Lord and told them what happened to the three females.

When they reached their cell, they saw Nesta, Emerie and Gwyneth sitting on the floor and chatting as if they were not being imprisoned in the Day Court. Azriel restrained himself from giving them each a slap in face for having been so reckless. Don’t slap our Valkyrie. You should kiss her instead. We missed her. Azriel rolled his eyes at his besotted shadows before Rhysand spoke. “Can one of you give us an explanation for all this?”

All three females looked surprised of their presence as they stood up and adjusted their clothes. Azriel immediately noted their white and gold dresses, similar to the ones worn in the court they were currently in. Their outfits looked like they had been carefully draped on them while leaving their cleavage on display. Azriel noticed that Gwyn started to blush when she saw him staring at her. He quickly looked away to avoid making her uncomfortable. She is not uncomfortable. She likes it, his shadows almost sang.

The guard opened the metal doors to let them in and Cassian immediately rushed to hold his mate. You should do the same with our Gwyn.

Shut up, Azriel mentally scolded his shadows. They did shut up, but they also went straight to Gwyn and started twirling around her. It was as if they wanted to make him jealous by being the one able to touch her instead of him. It worked since, like a damned idiot, Azriel was jealous of his own shadows. It was made worse when she started giggling at their antics.

“We just wanted to see the pegasus,” Nesta answered when she let go of Cassian.

“We didn’t want to steal them,” Emerie continued. “Just look at them. Maybe come close enough to touch them.”

Cassian, who seemed more curious now that they knew the three females were safe, asked them, “How did you get caught?”

Emerie, Nesta and Gwyn all looked at each other before the third one explained nonchalantly, “Someone saw us and grew suspicious. I knocked him out before he could report but the horses in the stable started making noises while we were trying to hide him and that attracted the other guards.”

Knowing in which state the guard told them they left the other male, Azriel felt a bit of pride for being the one who taught her that. But he was still mad at them for sneaking around Helion’s palace without permission.

“You didn’t just knock him out Gwyn, you almost shattered his skull. You could have killed him.” Rhys was clearly still mad at them too.

“Well I didn’t,” Gwyn retorted and her sisters snickered.

Rhysand released a sigh before he added, “You are putting my court at risk with your stupidity.”

Emerie rolled his eyes at the High Lord. “It's just the three of us not the entire Night Court.”

Rhys pointed at the three females, “You are part of the Night Court so you represent it. And you are also at the head of one of my armies, which makes it worse.”

“Not to mention that you’ve also put yourselves at risk,” Azriel told them as he crossed his arms.

Nesta also crossed her arms in an attempt to mimick him. “The only thing we risked was sleeping on the floor for the night,” she said while narrowing her eyes at Azriel.

“You think that would have been the only thing to happen to you?” Azriel raised his dark eyebrows at her.

Gwyn sighed in exasperation. “Oh come on, we already explained everything to Helion himself when he interrogated us. They wouldn’t have killed us for that.”

“Besides why do you think we are wearing these,” Emerie said while showing off their outfits.

Azriel tried to understand what Emerie said and suddenly the flowy dresses and plunging necklines made more sense. Both Azriel and Rhysand opened their mouth to make a comment but Cassian beat them to it. “So you intended to flash your tits so they would let you go?”

“Don’t be disgusting we wouldn’t go that far.” Nesta protested. “Be we knew that most people working in these stables were stupid males who wouldn’t resist our charms. Especially if we are wearing these.”

Azriel’s eyes instantly traveled to Gwyn. He felt the heat creep up his face when he noticed her already looking at him. One of his shadows which was still swirling around her arm made its way towards her neck.

Rhysand’s voice stopped Azriel from getting lost in Gwyneth’s eyes. “So what, you intended to ‘charm’ them before knocking them out?”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders and added, “We thought we could pretend to be some random ladies lost near the stables. The knock out bit was a Plan B. ”

Azriel snorted. “Random lost ladies who were wearing weapons.” He started to wonder where exactly under that dress did Gwyn hide those weapons. He would have to ask. Just in case they have to be sent on a real mission in the Day Court in the future. Yeah that’s the reason why, his shadows snickered.

“The weapons were in case the Plan B went wrong,” Emerie shrugged in turn. None of the three Valkyries seemed to care that they had attacked and almost killed a member of the Day Court. Azriel incredulously wondered how far they would go just to approach a pegasus.

Rhysand released a long sigh. “I’m tempted to leave you here just to teach you three a lesson.”

“Hey we didn’t ask you to come get us anyway,” Emerie said. “We would have been fine on our own.”

“Maybe we could convince High Lord Helion to give us a more comfortable cell for the night,” Gwyn added with an innocent but sly smile.

Azriel straightened and his shadows went slightly frantic, “absolutely fucking not. We’re getting you out of here.” There was no way in hell he would let Gwyn close to Helion. It was bad enough that the horny High Lord of Day has interrogated them before Azriel and his brothers got here.

Nesta watched Azriel with a mischievous grin. “Something wrong Az? You don’t like that idea?” No we don’t, the shadows agreed.

“He isn’t the only one.” Cassian also agreed with him. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Emerie gently elbowed Nesta. “I think your mate is getting a bit jealous Nes,” she added with a wink to her sister.

Cassian puffed out his chest as if he wasn’t imposing enough in the small cell. “I don’t need to be jealous of Helion.”

Nesta snorted but Gwyn didn’t hide her laughter. Azriel couldn’t help but smile, both at his brother’s confidence and at the laughter filling the space around them.

Emerie’s smirk widened, “hmm that’s debatable.”

Cassian rolled his eyes, “shut up Em!”

.....

Three days later, Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn were summoned to the High Lord of the Night Court’s office at the River House. Rhysand has received word from Helion concerning the Valkyries. Azriel was worried that Helion has decided to go back on his decision to not place any charges against them.

All doubts left Azriel the moment the three females let out very loud squeals of delight after reading the letter from the High Lord of Day. Cassian had to cover his ears to protect himself form the unexpected assault.

Helion was inviting the Valkyries to his court so he could show them his pegasi. Apparently, the Valkyries were already forgiven for everything. We must go with them, the shadows repeated ceaselessly. One look at Cassian and Azriel knew they would not let them set foot in the Day Court on their own again. They would not take the risk that Helion introduced them to more than his pegasi.

“Looks like our plan didn’t fail after all,” Nesta told her partners in crime.

“Oh it worked out better than we thought it would,” Emerie added.

Azriel and his brothers looked at the females incredulously.

“You three are impossible,” Azriel sighed.

Gwyn winked at him before adding, “if you mean impossibly amazing, then yes we are!”

Thanks for reading!! ♥

#valkyries #gwyneth berdara #nesta archeron #emerie of illyria #emerie #gwynriel #nessian #azriel’s shadows #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #rhysand #cassian #the day court #helion #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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dreamersinthedaylightinspo · 2 months

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Saw a post about Rhys being insane for going after Illyrians who worked with Amarantha while he also worked for Amarantha which reminded me very strongly of a bit that I've been casually working on in my notes app because I have Amarantha’s Takeover Rule Brainrot

Loosely connected with my ficverse and featuring entirely OCs but -

The Illyrian had his hands up. He was speaking - the same word over and over -

"Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Sanctuary."

Martialis kept his hand raised in stay, but did not lower his short sword. "Who are you? Identify yourself at once!"

"Azeneth of Ironcrest," said the Illyrian. His long hair was a tangled nest of black, a few braided pieces around his pallid, terrified face. He was young, Pyrrha realized with a start - no older than she was, if even that. "Sanctuary. I mean you no harm."

"Liar," someone spat, to her left.

Azeneth's eyes widened; his head whipped to the sound, so Pyrrha got a close look at his eyes - the pupils large as saucers, the whites stark, tears pricking at the corners.

"Its the truth! Please - they'll kill me if I don't fight - the High Lord has gone completely mad -"

"And how do we know you were not sent here to spy on us?" asked Martialis calmly.

Azeneth looked pleadingly at the captain. "They will kill me," he repeated. His fear was genuine; he reeked with it. The green siphoning stone on his chest shone ominously as his emotions flared.

"How did you manage to escape?" Martialis continued.

Azeneth wet his lips. His wings twitched and there was a shift, a series of clanging sounds, as the soldiers behind him lifted their spears and poised to throw. At once, he raised his hands higher, demonstrating his surrender.

"The general is missing," said Azeneth. "We believe that he has been killed - and my unit commander raised this concern with the wrong person - he was executed, and while they were all distracted, I ran."

"And the wards? How did you pass through unscathed?"

"There is a hole on the southeastern segment of the city wall," Azeneth confessed at once. "It hasn't been repaired yet, and its high, so only someone with wings can break through. We know all the weaknesses in the wards - I came through that point, and the others will be coming through after me. They are planning to send a small force to the main gate as a distraction while the Illyrians break through the weak spot. Then the rest of the army will follow."

The south wall - the school, Celestine, was there. Pyrrha's blood ran cold, and it was clear that she wasn't the only one. Martialis's expression was grave, and he ordered, "Tell Keeper Darnic to warn his counterparts, and send a message to Otho and the general."

There was a flurry of movement as one of the priestesses broke free from the group and rushed off. Pyrrha did not dare take her eyes from the Illyrian, who was noticeably trembling.

"Thank you for your information," said Martialis. "For your contributions, a quick death."

Azeneth let out a whimper, but before the captain could attack, Lucretia raised her voice.

"You do not dare spill innocent blood in the Mother's sacred hall!"

Martialis spared the old priestess a glare of indignation. "He's an Illyrian spy," he said, as if she were too stupid to have figured it out. "Illyrians are trained to kill from the womb. We cannot let him live."

"How dare you?" Lucretia's voice, though throaty with age, was still powerful. "The Mother loves each of her children and lifts them when they stumble!"

"We don't have time for sermons!"

"You are right," said Lucretia, lifting her chin. "I am merely reminding you - this is *my* temple. I am the Reverend High, by age and by decree. And if this child claims Sanctuary in the arms of the Mother, then I grant it without hesitatation. Those who would tarnish the Mother's sacred hospitality and compassion have no place here."

Martialis colored with fury and shame flashed across his eyes. Pyrrha understood at once what he must be feeling - not only had Lucretia just threatened to upend their war plans and throw Martialis to the literal wolves at the door, but the old woman had a special talent for enforcing discipline. Serapion slacked off on chores and argued with his parents, but he'd always known better than to sass his grandmother. They all did.

"Disarm him!" The captain snapped the order, but it wasn't directed at anyone in particular and nobody moved at first.

Pyrrha raised her spear and relaxed out of her stance. Her feet carried her - one step, two steps, three steps, four steps - until she was within arms length of the Illyrian.

She held out her hand.

Azeneth began pulling black stone knives from his person - long, curved blades strappedno to his chest, and four daggers strapped to his waist, and another, smaller one in his boot. He dropped them all to the floor one by one, letting them clatter and clang against the tiles. The last thing he removed was the leather strap which held the green stone, and this was the only thing he handed to Pyrrha, placing it gently on her palm.

Her fingers closed around it as she took a step backward. It was warm, and seemed to have a faint heartbeat.

"Search him!" Martialis commanded.

Two male soldiers stepped forward and did so, roughly yanking on his leathers and slapping their hands hard against his body. Azeneth winced, but did not protest.

"Clean!"

Azeneth slowly lowered his hands. No one lowered their weapons.

Martialis broke the tension by sheathing his blade, and turning to face the old priestess.

"Where can we keep him?"

Lucretia's mouth pursed and she said, "He is a guest, not a prisoner."

"Be that as it may," said the captain flatly. "We are at war."

Lucretia looked at Pyrrha, who stared back at her blankly. She was still holding the stone out; she realized she was somewhat afraid of it, and then chided herself as she forced her body to stand normally, arms at her sides. Illyrian siphons were powerful, but they were only stones once they'd been removed from their wearers. Azeneth was harmless.

"My grandson could use some help with organizing our medical supply," suggested Lucretia. "Perhaps our guest might be willing to help?"

Azeneth lowered his chin as a few soldiers snickered to see his expression.

Pyrrha said, "Sure. I'll take you to him. This way."

She looked at Azeneth, who eyed her a bit warily, but followed when she walked. She felt every single eye - her peers, the other priestesses - and only paused when she reached Lucretia's position by the doors.

"Keep your eyes open," the old priestess advised.

Pyrrha nodded. That would be wise indeed.

#my fic writing #the dreamers in the daylight #pyrrha #the day court #amarantha's rule #pre-canon fic #anyway do u ever think about how the village of Ironcrest was singled out for scrutiny #as az and rhys were certain at one point that ironcrest would rebel against the night court #do you ever think about why that was - cause i do

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belladonna-kisses · 7 months

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I hope Helion and Lucien's mom aren't mates.

I don't want this lady that faced years of abuse to escape her husband and immediately jump into a relationship. Also mates are suppose to be very rare but it seems everyone has them, so please don't let them be mates.

#acotar #acomaf #helion spell cleaver #Helion #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lady of autumn #Autum court #the day court

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thedickgraysons · 10 days

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i can’t explain it but i LOVE fashion and hair and hair fashion and thinking about the way the different courts of prythian would have adapted to suit their different climates and cultures

so give me the autumn court whose women wear their hair in tightly coiled chignons and hats in public for propriety. hair being sacred and precious in spring, kept long and neatly braided and decorated with bells and flowers and cut when they’re in mourning to symbolize a new beginning. play into the greco-roman design of the day court with the heir of day growing out their hair only to cut it when the day comes where they’re now the ruler, offering it to the mother for her blessings

just. Hair! fashion! it’s such a fun and easy way to world build

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #the autumn court #the day court #the spring court #sjm please give me a crumb of flavor im dying out here

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whitedemon-ladydeath · 3 months

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ok. okokokok. so Helion is Persian. Persia is modern day Iran

this photography is from Iran and just!!!! IMAGINE ELAIN WALKING IN THISSSSSSSSSS

#the day court #elain archeron #elucien

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florencemtrash · 4 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Five

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Warning: Gore, violence, some angst

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Meryl struggled forward, trying to keep from tripping on his floor-length robes. A head of ivory hair trailed out after him at a leisurely pace. A blood red hand at her side gripped a slick shortsword. The blade mimicked the cruel curve of her horns.

You remembered her from the party.

Teal silk and blood and the lake.

Koschei.

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms.

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner.

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room.

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it.

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library.

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god.

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor.

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door.

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always.

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages.

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime.

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales.

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes.

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late.

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink.

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion.

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you.

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table.

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.”

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked.

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.”

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.”

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist.

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins.

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh.

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years.

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron?

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too.

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end.

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts.

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room.

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”.

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly.

“You didn’t finish your thought.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.”

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work.

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic.

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.”

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would.

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment.

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings.

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him.

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel.

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands.

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong.

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind.

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book.

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular.

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains.

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to.

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.”

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.”

“...I know.”

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.”

“You can’t keep doing this.”

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils.

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.”

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind.

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book.

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out?

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two.

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is.

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late.

You grip the knife in your hand.

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath.

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time.

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames.

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath.

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!”

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath.

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic.

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion.

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today.

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea.

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember.

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.”

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck.

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory.

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart.

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

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Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

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