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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 year

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Always Yours

ALWAYS YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader (Part 3 of NEVER YOURS)

SUMMARY: The night of Starfall has arrived, and Azriel has finally come to his senses. But you’re gone, prepping with Mor for the Starfall celebration, so Azriel has no choice but to fix things in the middle of the celebration.

WARNINGS: reader wears a dress, swear words, self doubt, Lucien is a god and i’m drooling over him, brief mentions of a one-night-stand, azriel doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions and briefly turns to alcohol but he’s okay, and nyx is the cutest little guy my heart is gonna explode<3

WORDS: 5.7K

AZRIEL

Azriel had never been in more of a challenging predicament in his entire life. And Azriel had been in quite a few of those.

But this… this was where feelings were involved. This was difficult. Everything concerning you was difficult, but not in a way that he couldn’t deal with. No, the difficulties tended to be the rising pace of his pulse wherever you entered a room, and the tightening in his chest whenever you so much as looked at another male. The difficulty of not surging forward and kissing you when the moonlight shone on your hair and in your eyes, making them glow like diamonds.

As anyone could see, you made things difficult with your mere presence.

Azriel had known that he loved you for a very long time. He’d stopped counting the years that passed quite a while ago, but he felt like his heart had yearned for you for all eternity. And he had always convinced himself that those lingering touches and longing gazes were just his imagination. Because there was no way in Hel that you could love the shadowsinger back.

Maybe the bond tricked you. Maybe that was why you were convinced you loved him, why it killed you to see him with other people. He was sure that if the roles were reversed, and he found out about the bond first, he’d try to fall in love with that person.

But you were different. There was no need for a mating bond when it came to you. Even if Azriel had been tied to a different person, he would never want them, would never be able to feel about them the way he felt about you.

Elain was a mistake. They both knew it, of course, Azriel and Elain. They’d just wanted to see if it could work, if they could help each other ease the aching of their hearts. And after that kiss, they both knew they were better off as friends, because that was all they needed from each other.

But you had seen it. You’d seen him and Elain in that embrace and Azriel knew that it would hurt if he had seen you in the same position with someone else. Fuck, Azriel knew it hurt, because he’d felt it before. You had both been alive for centuries – of course you’d seen each other kiss other people. But to see Azriel kiss Elain while knowing the two of you were mates…

Well, he’d just fucked that right up, hadn’t he?

But it wasn’t his fault, not really. You hadn't told him about the bond – how was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know that the tie to you, the need to be with you was the mating bond, and not just the yearning love he felt? How was he supposed to know that it had snapped into place for you months ago, while he just sat around, unaware of it all?

Why hadn’t you told him? It was the question that chased him throughout the days and nights, the dreams that prevented him from sleeping and peace. Why hadn’t you told him? Was it because you wanted better? Because you knew he would never be enough for you?

He should have known. He should have known that you were his mate, with or without you to tell him. It had been centuries since you two had met – how had he not known? How had he not realised that his ability to find you in a crowded room wasn’t just due to his shadows, but to the string that tied your souls together? That the need to make sure you were always safe, always protected, wasn’t just because you were his family, but because you were promised to him by the Mother?

That was how Azriel had found you when Rhys had refused to tell him where you were. With Rhys not telling him, he knew that you didn’t want to be found, probably by him. Which had hurt, excruciatingly so. His shadows were never able to find you if you didn’t want them to – it was as if they respected you more than him. He’d gotten Rhys to confess that you were in the Illyrian camps and then he was off in an instant, shadow-winnowing to the nearest one. He only had to be there for a few seconds to realise you weren’t there, so he drained his power reserves trying to find you. And when he saw you in that ring…

When that male had kicked you in the ribs, he felt something. An overwhelming urge to jump into that ring in front of you, and tear that male to shreds. To feel that male’s blood running down his arms as he ripped his throat out for even thinking of touching you. The rage had blinded him, and it was only due to centuries worth of training that he was able to stand his ground, and watch.

He felt bad for yelling at you in the house, but at the same time, he felt like it was justified. Emotions clashed inside of him, and he tried to keep them all at bay. Everyone assumed he felt nothing – he was the stoic shadowsinger and spymaster who killed and tortured people for a living. But just because he never showed things on the outside, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel things on the inside.

You knew that. More than anyone, even Rhys and Cas, you knew that. You could see through his blank eyes and into his soul when you tried hard enough. You could always sense when something was off, even though Azriel had trained for years to make sure no one ever could. You were the other half of him, the only one who could understand him fully.

But when he saw you in that hallway, looking so crestfallen and broken... he couldn’t stand to look at you. To see the damage he caused to his other half. Shame was all he could feel, so overwhelming and persistent that he’d had to drown it out with alcohol.

A loud pounding at Azriel’s bedroom door jolted him from his thoughts. A shadow whispered in his ear and Azriel rolled his eyes at the door, and did not answer. Which, in hindsight, was a bad idea, because the door burst open, and Cassian stood in the entryway with his hands on his hips.

“Come on, stop moping,” Cassian demanded, walking over and grabbing Azriel by his arm, effectively hauling him off of his bed.

“It is very rude to barge into someone’s room without permission, you know,” Azriel scolded, shaking out of his brother’s grip.

Cassian scoffed. “Come on, stop moping around, Az.”

“I’m not moping,” Azriel protested, to which Cassian rolled his eyes.

“You’re definitely moping.”

Azriel turned his attention to where Rhys and Nesta leant against his doorframe, the latter examining her nails in boredom for a moment before entering Azriel’s room and plopping herself down on one of the cobalt chairs beside the fireplace. Rhys followed her and sat across from the female, prompting Cassian to incline his head in an invitation to follow them.

Azriel’s first instinct was to say no, and to tell them to get the fuck out of his room. He didn’t need this – this therapy. He was completely fine stewing over his problems by himself, analysing every possibility and outcome. If he was going to talk to anyone about his problems, it would be you – which would be insane for starters, as you were essentially the problem.

So Azriel groaned in defeat and sat next to his High Lord, while Cassian made himself comfortable beside Nesta.

“So, what happened between you and Y/n?” Nesta asked.

Azriel shrugged. “How do you know that’s the problem?”

“Well, the only person mopier than you is Y/n,” Cassian claimed, which sent a stab of guilt through him.

“Y/n is my mate,” Azriel confessed.

The three others watched Azriel as he waged an internal battle. Half of him was screaming at him to back away, to keep this issue to himself. Telling people things always resulted in pain and heartbreak, except when he was with you. But the other half of him was gentle, fighting the shrieking and yelling with kindness. They won’t hurt you, it assured him, they are your family. They just want to help.

Azriel tried to ignore the fact that the gentle part of him sounded like you.

The three looked to him, fake shock plastered on their features, to which Azriel scowled. “You already know, then. Fine, get out.”

“No, no,” Cassian said quickly, “we didn’t know, per say. We just… guessed.”

“I knew,” Rhys shrugged, to which Azriel turned to glare at him. But the High Lord simply shrugged again, and added, “Y/n told me.”

All the fight left Azriel’s body, causing him to groan and throw his head back and rub his face. So Azriel told them how it had happened, expecting them to understand his side of the story, and help him figure out a way to fix it. Because Azriel had no idea what to do. He wanted to go to you, so desperately, and beg on his knees for you to take him. But the other part of himself, the darker part, whispered to him that if you had kept this from him, what other secrets were you keeping? Had you kept it from him because you didn’t want him?

“Oh, Mother above,” Nesta breathed once Azriel had finished his explanation. “I hate the miscommunication trope.”

Azriel’s head snapped towards the female, icy rage glinting in his eyes as he snarled, “This isn’t miscommunication. She didn’t tell me, on purpose.”

“Still miscommunication,” Nesta shrugged.

Azriel stood up angrily, and before he knew what he was doing, he was hissing in the female’s face, “This isn’t a book, Nesta. This is my life.”

Rhys’s hand grabbed his elbow and tugged him back and away from Nesta, while Cassian stepped in front of her. Nesta rolled her eyes at her mate, but it was a smart choice for Cassian to do so. Nesta may have been training for years now, but that didn’t mean she was better than Azriel.

“Nesta, stop stirring him up,” Cassian warned, his eyes still on Azriel.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she growled, but her eyes slid to Azriel’s, and after a moment, she added, “Sorry. That was insensitive.”

The fury running through Azriel’s veins dimmed and he sighed, slumping back onto the couch. Everyone was silent as thoughts poured into the shadowsinger’s head, as he tried to figure out what he was going to do with you.

“She does love you, you know,” Rhys murmured. “We can all see it, so clearly. Why do you think she defends you so much?”

“She defends you too,” Azriel reminded, to which Cassian shook his head.

“Not like she does you,” he argued. “Haven’t you noticed that every time someone says something against you, she’s ready to pounce and rip their head off? She’ll let us deal with our enemies, just waiting at the sidelines if the need for help arises, but she’s always prepared to fight to the death and beyond when it comes with you.”

I do the same, was the first argument that came to Azriel’s mind, but… he didn’t do that with his brothers. He let them navigate the situation themselves, let them want aid before he answered the call. With you, he was ready to draw blood at the slight shift of someone’s tone while they spoke to or about you.

“The mating bond isn’t the reason why she loves you,” Rhys added.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was being stupid. Idiotic and absolutely ridiculous. You were his mate, for crying out loud. You had admitted your love for him days ago, and all he’d done was avoid you. Why?

“I’ve loved her for so long,” Azriel admitted in a whisper, “that I’m afraid if I tell her, I’ll wake up.”

There was a pause, before, “Wake up?” Nesta questioned.

“From this dream,” Azriel asserted. “Because this… this can’t be real.”

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. Azriel turned to face Rhysand, whose eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. “It is real, Az. You deserve to be happy.”

You deserve to be happy. How many times had you said that to him? How many times had you assured that he didn’t deserve to be mournful forever, that he deserved something or someone who brought him joy? You’d never suggested yourself for the part. Maybe you believed that he deserved someone else, which was impossible. Azriel would never be able to deserve you, never be able to understand why the Mother or the Cauldron or Fate had blessed him by making him your mate.

"I hurt her," Azriel confessed.

The was a moment of silence, before Cassian inquired, “So… what are you going to do?”

“Fix things,” Azriel decided.

Y/N

You stood in Mor’s room, admiring the silver gown she had dressed you in. It sparkled as you walked, mirroring the stars in the sky, and pooled at your feet, like a lake full of starlight. See-through fabric stretched over your collarbones and shoulders, stars interrupting the expanse of skin. Silverly, near-transparent sleeves clung to your arms, and it hugged your body close, showing off your beautiful curves.

“This is gorgeous,” you breathed, your eyes wandering over yourself in the mirror.

Mor hummed in response, her gorgeous cream-coloured dress swishing as she walked across the room. It was cut low at the front and the back, showing off her stunning body, and she wore it with pride. Her hair was pinned half up, with half of her golden curls tumbling down her back.

“You are going to be turning a lot of heads tonight,” Mor grinned with a wink.

You tried to smile back, feeling her words tug at your heart. You only wanted to turn one head tonight, but that head was intent to face the other way. So you looked back at your dress, trying not to imagine what would happen if Azriel were to look at you. Trying not to imagine the way his eyes would light up, the way his shadows would disappear just at the sight of you, like the way they did for Elain. How his eyes would look you up and down hungrily, and how he would walk over to you with purpose and ask you to dance.

You really did try not to imagine it.

You looked out of the window, all of the lights in Velaris either dimmed or out completely. Tonight was a night to celebrate another kind of light, a light that brought all of the Night Court together, whether they liked it or not. It was an event that was celebrated all across the court, because the stars were admired by everyone.

When the time came, Mor led you from her room in the House of Wind and to the balconies, where the celebration was being held. Citizens wined and dined out in the night air, small strings of fae lights emanating a soft glow, allowing people to see by. There were people you knew the names of, and people you’d only seen in passing up here, celebrating the biggest event of the year.

You walked over closer to the balconies, looking over the land and all the way to the ocean. The ships were docked, all of the sailors no doubt revelling the best night of the year.

“Holy shit, Y/n.”

You turned your head to see Cassian walking over to you, eyes wide and face beaming. Without warning, he picked you up and hugged you tight, to which you laughed and playfully smacked at his shoulder.

“I haven’t seen you in days, and you show up looking like this?” he expressed, putting you down. “Surely you didn’t need that much time to get ready?”

You laughed again and punched his arm. “You asshole.”

Cassian chuckled as well and nudged you back, letting out a breath and looking at the party. People were practically glowing under the fae lights, chattering excitedly as they waited for the Starfall to begin. Every year, everyone was excited about it, no matter how many times they had witnessed the shooting of starlight across the sky. There was some sort of childlike glee within every person, a light that was able to penetrate the darkest of pain.

Because, even though your mate didn’t love you, you were still happy for Starfall. You were elated to be here, overjoyed to watch the stars hurtle across the open night sky.

Youthful laughter grew closer to the two of you, and before you knew it, Nyx was at your feet, reaching up to you. You laughed and gave in to his wishes, picking him up and settling him against your hip. He hugged you close and then pulled away, his eyes wide and full of joy.

“Wow, isn’t it a bit past your bedtime?” you chuckled.

Nyx shook his head. “It’s Starfall! I can stay up as late as I want to!”

You laughed again and kissed the side of his head. But your eyes strayed behind the boy in your arms, all the way across the balcony. It was if your gaze was drawn to him by some magical force, but before you could stop it, Azriel filled your sights with his beauty. Even from a distance and with the people between you, you could tell he was already staring at you.

You turned your attention back to Cassian as you put Nyx down, the child already running off through the party, producing laughter from the guests as he rushed through them. Cassian watched you carefully, most likely already knowing who you saw and the emotions that it had provoked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. But he just shrugged, turning his gaze to the person you refused to look at. You refused to follow his line of sight, and instead turned the other way. This night was going to be a good one – you didn’t need unrequited love to ruin it.

Somebody cleared their throat behind you, and you turned to see Lucien in a gorgeous navy-blue tunic with silver thread, as well as white pants that hugged his muscled thighs. His fiery hair was braided back neatly, and his eyes watched you closely.

“Y/n,” he greeted, “you look beautiful.”

You smiled back at the male, and offered your own greeting, “Thank you, Lucien. You clean up well yourself.”

The male smiled easily at you, and offered his hand. “May I have this dance?” He looked over at Cassian, and added, “If I’m not interrupting, of course.”

Cassian opened his mouth, probably to deny Lucien’s request because he was always trying to meddle, but you got there first. “It’s fine,” you asserted, glancing at Cassian. He was watching Lucien closely, his eyes narrowed slightly. “I’d love to dance.”

You placed your hand in Lucien’s and he led you to the dance floor, where his free hand found its way to your waist, and yours his shoulder.

“It’s a beautiful party,” Lucien stated. “Every time, it’s beautiful. You’d think that it would get dull after all these years, but it’s still as beautiful as the first night I saw it.”

You hummed in understanding. “I’ve seen it hundreds of times – it will never get dull, trust me.”

Lucien laughed and twirled you, the skirts of your dress flowing through the air. Lucien had always been nice to you. He had some interesting stories to tell, and he was fun to talk to. You weren’t as close to him as you were to your inner court, but he was a friend.

Maybe he could be more than a friend, one day. Your heart screamed in defiance, only wanting one person, but… one day that would fade, wouldn’t it? And Azriel and Elain would be together, leaving you and Lucien mateless. Maybe you were supposed to be with him. But looking into Lucien’s eyes, and feeling his hands on your waist – you so tremendously wished that it was Azriel who stood in front of you. You wanted him so badly it physically hurt, so much that it overwhelmed you, tearing open the barrier that kept all of that pain at bay.

“I – I have to go,” you gasped.

Lucien’s brows furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face. “I’m fine. I just… need some fresh air.”

Before he could respond you left the dance floor, walking all the way to the edge of the balcony and launching off of it, flying up and above the city.

Flying always helped you calm down. Being so high up and away from everything, it was peaceful. There was nothing to bother you up here, so far away from the earth. The wind rustled your hair, and you felt the current pushing lightly against your wings.

Was it always going to feel like this? Whenever you considered moving on, would your heart continue to strain, always continue to shred itself apart? Would you always feel the excruciating ache whenever you thought about him? Would your stomach always churn whenever you thought about loving someone else?

You shouldn’t be up here for too long, you knew. You needed to get back to the celebration, and try to push Azriel from your mind. You could see the lights of the party twinkling, and you lowered yourself down and onto an empty balcony. You leaned against the railing, looking out to the dark city of Velaris, hearing the hum of the partygoers. It would be happening soon.

You knew the second he stepped out of the shadows. Maybe your souls would always be entwined, so you would always know when he was near, no matter if the bond was rejected. His footsteps were quiet as he walked across the marble floors, but not silent, perhaps in an effort to let you know that he was there. Every step closer had your muscles tensing, and before you knew it they stopped, and he rested on the railing beside you, mirroring your position and looking out at the city. There were barely two feet between you, but you refused to look at him.

“You look angelic,” Azriel murmured.

You turned your gaze to him, ever so slowly. He wore a dark button down shirt that showcased his muscled arms, paired with black pants that clung to his powerful thighs. His face was barely lit up, but you could still see those gorgeous hazel eyes as they watched you closely. If you were angelic, then Azriel was ethereal. His beauty was from another world, from another plane of existence. He was so handsome, devastatingly so, that it made your heart tighten.

But he was talking to you. Why?

“Thank you,” you answered slowly. “You look… nice.”

A whisper of a grin stretched across the shadowsinger’s face at your words and you looked away, not wanting to see what wasn’t yours. Was it childish? Your head said yes, but your heart said no. Azriel didn’t say anything else, and you sat in an uncomfortable silence with him, until you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Why are you here?” you demanded.

Azriel slid his hands in his pockets, and replied smoothly, “To watch Starfall.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you here, with me, and not Elain?”

“Elain is not my mate,” Azriel responded.

Your heart began to beat harder and faster at his words, so loud you could hear it in your ears. But that did not excuse the days of suffering he had put you through.

“Yeah, well, I bet she’d love it if you were down there with her,” you snapped. “Y’know, you two could go off somewhere, maybe somewhere less public this time.”

Azriel flinched slightly, and your heart squeezed painfully at the sight, but you kept your expression neutral. Good. It was good that he was feeling maybe a fraction of the pain he had inflicted. And once he was done toying with you, he could go back to Elain and leave you alone. Maybe you’d find a way into a stranger’s bed later tonight – or maybe even Lucien’s, just to get back at Azriel.

“You weren’t meant to see that,” he expressed, causing you to scoff.

“I don’t think anyone was supposed to see that, Azriel.”

The male in question rubbed a hand down his face, as if you were being difficult. Which, you sort of were, but it was justified. Why was he playing with you like this? He clearly wanted Elain, the woman who was so pure that his shadows disappeared at the sight of her, so why was he fucking around with you? It wasn’t like Azriel to harm people he loved… but that was just it, wasn’t it? He didn’t love you, not like he loved Elain.

“Well, I’m going to go,” you announced, stepping back from the balcony. “Enjoy Starfall.”

“Y/n, please, wait –”

“No,” you hissed, whirling around to face him. “I don’t want you to hurt me more than you already have. You rejected the bond, and that is that. You can’t have both of us.”

“I don’t want Elain,” he pleaded, his eyes wide as he stepped towards you. “I only want you.”

You lip trembled as you stared at him, trembling just like your resolve was. Oh, how you wanted to smooth away the frown on his face, to kiss away the pain in his eyes… But you couldn’t – he wanted Elain, he wanted Elain…

“I only want you,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

I only want you. The words swirled around in your head, so much so you almost began to feel dizzy. I only want you.

Slowly, Azriel reached out for you. When you didn't flinch away, he gently grabbed your hand and took a step closer to you, and then another, until he was only inches away from you, and his night-chilled mist and cedar scent filled your nose. It made you light-headed, and all you wanted to do was breathe it in and in and in.

“If you only want me,” you whispered, your voice quivering, “then why do your shadows only disappear when she’s around?”

Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, and his hand moved up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, before resting it on the point where your neck met your shoulder. “Because she is pure, and innocent.”

“And I’m not?” you frowned, and he nodded.

“No, you aren’t,” he confirmed. “You’re like me. You have your own darkness inside of you, and my shadows know that. They see you; they know you. They have seen that darkness inside of you, and they still love you, almost as much as I do.”

“You talk of my ‘darkness’ easily,” you noted, trying not to let your thoughts linger too long on his words. Almost as much as I do.

Azriel simply shrugged in response. “You have been through a lot. There is darkness in you – but there’s also light. And I love and want both, because I understand that they are one.”

You looked up at the shadowsinger, feeling your heart swell with so much emotion that it threatened to overwhelm you. But… you still had so many questions.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whispered. “I – I’ve been back from the camps for days, and you just left me.”

Azriel closed his eyes and hung his head, letting out a low breath. One hand still held your own, while the other gently rubbed the side of your neck.

“I was… scared,” he admitted. “I was so horrible to you, and said so many harsh things… At first, I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, at all. And then when you came back… you looked so… broken, and it was my fault. I was…”

He gulped and looked away, tears sliding down his cheeks. He looked up at the sky, as if he hoped it would give him enough strength to continue. You gently lifted your hand and brushed them away, and Azriel turned his gaze back to you.

“I was ashamed,” he whispered. “I hated that I was the reason you were hurt. I just – Mother above, I’ve never been more disappointed in myself than I have in the past few days. I didn’t know how to approach you, how to… how to fix things.”

“I kissed Elain,” he continued, “because I was trying to move on from you. I have loved you since we were eleven; since the moment you kicked that male in the balls because he was taunting me. You didn’t know me back then, and I didn’t know you. But you protected me, and I – I’d never felt anything like that before. And then I got to know you, and I fell for you all over again.”

Azriel finished speaking, and you stayed silent as you took it all in. Azriel had loved you in the shadows for all his life, just as you had. He wanted you, he had always wanted you… oh, how stupid had the two of you been? A disbelieving laugh pushed its way out of you, and Azriel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, trying to keep the rest of the laughter in. “It’s just – how did you not know that I had always reciprocated your feelings? You’re supposed to be the spymaster of the Night Court.”

“My shadows,” Azriel began, light already beginning to fill his eyes at the sound of your laughter, “seem to respect you more than me. They knew it was a secret you wanted to keep, so they never deigned to tell me.”

You looked at the shadowsinger, really looked at him. You could see the love in his eyes. It wasn’t fabricated – it was real, and it was all for you. He did not hold any of it back, let you see how much he loved and adored you.

Azriel stepped back, much to your dismay, but he reached behind his back and pulled something out of his shadows. After a moment, you recognised a small plate in his hand, holding your favourite dessert on its porcelain surface.

“Y/n L/n,” Azriel proposed, “will you make me that happiest male alive and accept the mating bond?”

Your hand went straight to your throat in shock as your eyes widened. “I thought – I thought the female was supposed to offer the food,” you choked out.

Azriel shrugged, the plate still outstretched. “It seems a tad misogynistic, doesn’t it? I mean, you can offer me food if you’d like, but… I thought you’d appreciate this more.”

Of course Azriel would think that, would know how much effort it would take to offer any male food. Because, as a female Illyrian, that was all you were supposed to do. Make food for your husband and rear children, over and over. The fact that he’d even considered what that tiny action might do to you, how reversing the roles could make it more agreeable for you…

“I do,” you answered, stepping closer and taking the plate from his hands.

You picked up the treat and slowly took a bite. Azriel’s eyes never left your face as you ate the dessert, his eyes flicking from your own to your mouth. He watched until there was only one bite left, and you offered it to him. He raised an eyebrow in question at you.

“I think we can both give and receive,” you answered. “Our relationship should always be equal. Neither of us will constantly give while the other constantly takes.”

“And I only get one bite?” Azriel chuckled, to which you rolled your eyes.

But he didn’t disagree, and he took the dessert from you, putting it in his mouth and finishing it. His eyes never left your face and yours trailed down to his throat which bobbed as he swallowed. Your eyes moved back to his, and you could see such undying love in them that it nearly made your knees buckle.

“I love you, Y/n,” Azriel murmured. “I will always love you, and I will cherish you forever.”

“I love you, Azriel,” you whispered. “I will always love you, in this life and all those after.”

Azriel’s hand cupped your face, his other resting against your waist. Your hands pressed against his chest, the fabric of his shirt smoothing underneath them. Azriel leaned in closer, and you moved to meet him, your lips meeting in a gentle and loving kiss. His lips moved slowly, carefully over your own, and you felt the bond flare between the two of you, whole once again. Your hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders, his other hand moving to your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth.

Cheers arose from below you, and you broke apart at the sound, looking to the sky as a shining star hurtled across it. A breathless laugh left you as you watched Starfall begin. Another star glided across the sky, swirling and turning over itself as if delighting in the splendour of its own radiance. Another followed after it, and another, until a brigade of them burst forth from the horizon's edge like a wave of brilliant starlight.

Azriel kissed the side of your head as the light washed over the two of you, and here, in this moment, with your mate by your side and the starlight above you, you felt complete. Because Azriel had always been, and would always be, yours.

thank you all so much for reading! there are no words to describe how much i appreciate all of the feedback and support from you all. i hope you enjoyed this series <3

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drenchedfireworks · 7 months

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Said it before, saying it again.

Azriel was not mated with the third Archeron sister, not because he didn't deserve a mate like his brothers did. Like he assumed it was meant to be. Three brothers, three sisters.

He wasn't given an Archeron sister for a mate because he's looking at the wrong trio. It's not about Rhysand-Cassian-Azriel ending up with the Archeron sisters. It's about Cassian-Azriel-Morrigan ending up with the Valkyries while Elucien serves the most angsty pining known to mankind.

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kayjayjwrites · 6 days

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 7,500

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power.

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable.

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain.

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, “and you will.”

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth?

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries.

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand.

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them.

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there.

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you.

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder.

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore?

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure.

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can��t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax.

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real.

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand.

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time.

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

Tag List: @f4iry-bell @jediknightjana @microwaveallthedemons @olive-main

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @5onedirection5

@brieflyclassymortal @hauntedstudentobservationus

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #Like Bugs in a Rug #my writing #kayjaywrites #nesta archeron #the morrigan #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #cassian

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jodeeeart · 1 year

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Delighted to share this sneaky preview of 'The Morrigan' I made for @3dtotal 's Artist Grimoire 'The field guide to witches' - Available to order here now!

Cover Illustration by Abigail Larson.

#3d total #the morrigan #witches #goddess #the field guide to witches #grimoire #painting #sketch

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detective-jane-rizzoli · 3 months

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#Anna Silk #Bo Dennis #Lost Girl #Doccubus #Zoie Palmer #Lauren Lewis #Bo x Lauren #Emmanuelle Vaugier #The Morrigan #lostgirledit #S04E05 #doccubusedit #my edit

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velidewrites · 3 months

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Rhys: We can’t tell anyone about this

Feyre: I only told Mor

Mor: And I only told Cassian

Cassian: And I told many, many people

#incorrect acotar quotes #the inner circle #rhysand acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #feyre acotar #the morrigan #mor acotar #cassian acotar #acotar memes #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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cherrycolaboy · 6 months

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Low energy offerings for The Morrigan

- light a candle in her honor

- leave a food offering for her

- wash your face and/or hands

- pick up any litter

- do some shadow work

- donate money to food shelters or expecting mothers

- let some anger out in a healthy way(break plates, rage room, etc)

- read about her mythology

- put some bird food out

#pagan witch #polytheism #paganism #pagan #pagan community #paganblr #pagans of tumblr #witch #witches #deity worship #witchcraft #deities #deity devotion #the morrigan #morrigan #celtic #celtic paganism

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wolfhowlwitch · 6 months

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pro deity worship/low energy tip:

you CAN watch tv with/for your deities! and devote it to Them! and use that devoted time as an offering!

your offerings don’t exclusively HAVE to be physical or even only “things that would have been offered at the inception of the religion”. quality time is an offering. and TV (or movies!) can be quality time. as someone who is autistic/disabled, sometimes that’s all I can give (and I’m biased in that TV is my special interest, lol.)

examples:

for The Morrigan, I watch shows about killers, mediums, ghosts, and powerful groups of women. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards Irish horror movies or movies about spirits. sometimes just general dark fantasy movies. examples include Practical Magic (movie), The Hallow (movie), Hannibal (movie series or show but especially show), Psychic Kids* (reality show)

for Hermes, I watch things that are both funny and interesting/educational/informative. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards comedy romps (especially that involve travel) or biopics. examples include We Are The Millers (movie), Rocketman (biopic movie), Hart to Heart (comedy/interview show), Jeopardy!* (educational game show)

for Hades, I watch any and all horror movies, especially those with an afterlife component. if I’m watching shows, I tend to lean towards dark/kooky spooky cartoons. examples include Beetlejuice (movie or show but especially movie), The Cleansing Hour (movie), The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy (cartoon show), Courage the Cowardly Dog* (cartoon show)

for Persephone, I tend to watch anything old, spooky, heartfelt, and aesthetically beautiful. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards dark musical films or romantic movies with a horror twist (bonus points for horror, comedy, and romance all in one). examples include Deathgasm (movie), The Corpse Bride (cartoon musical movie), Elvira’s Movie Macabre (horror movie commentary show), The Munsters* (show)

I put a * next to the programs that I feel They’ve loved the most and have felt truly deep connection with Them over! please feel free to get weird with it, experiment, find what works for your worship. and maybe in the reblogs or tags, tell me what you’ve been watching and who you’ve been watching it with!

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freyjas-musings · 2 months

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The next book being centred around Azriel doesn't automatically mean there isn't room for SJM to do what she loves doing, tell impactful stories of women.

Azriel's book would also mean :

A story of survival of Azriel's mother and the strength she has.

A story of Gwyn who is a survivor and a warrior who is tired of living in the library and wants adventure. Someone who has similar experience of physical trauma to Az and struggles with similar issues to Az such as self worth.

A story of a dear friend aka Nesta who has done so much for his court, worked so hard for that inner peace and is still fighting demons.

A story of a family member he has a lot of apologising to do to .... Morrigan, someone who hasn't been able to be who she truly desires to be.

A story of an Illyrian friend... Emerie who has similar trauma to his , yet hasn't got the same prejudice towards her people.

So , Azriel's book while being centred around Azriel will also be about all these wonderful, strong and badass women. All SJM said is she loves telling stories of women such as the ones above... she never said she would never write a book centred around males .... Azriels book is happening... you can deny it or cry me a river about it for all I care but don't for one second think any of the above mentioned females won't also be making our hearts swoon and etching a place for themselves.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwynriel #gwyn acosf #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel #post acosf #acotar #emerie of illyria #acosf theory #the morrigan #morrigan

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rainingriversofyou · 2 months

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The Book Of Breathings

A Court Of Mist And Fury

Art by lanas.linework

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

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Hello everything is fine? I would like to make a request to Rhysand

Something where maybe Rhys, the reader, and the rest of the group were on a game night, and the reader and Rhys are obviously always paired up, and they almost always win, but then the rest of the group, maybe in another round , put the reader with someone else? and Rhys stays with Feyre, then the reader is dying of jealousy (the reader and Rhys are partners) and Rhys wins over the reader? But then when someone humiliates the reader, Rhys gets super angry and takes revenge on her?

Game night disaster

Rhysand x Reader

Warnings; angst, swearing.

Masterlist

Night had settled around Velaris and the house of wind couldn’t be more alive, it is Friday night and that translates into game night for your family. You were currently sitting on the ground in front of the couch and between your mate’s -Rhys’ legs. Amusement flashed in your eyes as you watched Nesta almost beating Cassian because he couldn’t explain the word written on his card making them lose a point. You and Rhys were on fire like usual leaving everyone more than 10 points behind.

“It’s unfair, you two always win. Game nights are becoming awfully boring.” Mor whined pointing at you and Rhys, and everyone nodded in agreement. “They probably have created a code that’s how they keep winning” Cassian exclaimed.

“Yeah right, you just can’t accept the fact that we are better than you” Rhys replied to him, his eyes flashing with mischief. He always liked to get under Cassian’s skin.

“I think we should change partners” Nesta spoke. You glanced around noticing how everyone seemed to agree so you just shrugged. You didn’t like the idea of competing against Rhysand, neither of you could stand losing and you knew that if one of you won and the other lost you would probably spend the rest of the night bickering. You didn’t have a choice though because if you disagreed it would look like you were indeed cheating.

Mor placed pieces of paper in a small bowl with all your names written on them and shook it. Then picking piece after piece she announced;

“Okay so Nesta with Azriel, Amren with Elain, Cassian with y/n, me with Lucien and Rhys with Feyre”

You didn’t even have the time to curse about being paired with Cassian who completely sucked at the game as you heard who Rhys was paired with. Not her. You thought. You didn’t have anything against Feyre, and deep down you knew that they are just friends, but you couldn’t stop thinking how she saved him from Amarantha while you were stuck in Velaris not able to leave the city to help him. He knew what would happen at the party and he warded the house so you couldn’t leave with him. You scratching the air between the doorframe and screaming at him to let you out, and him with a sad smile muttering “I love you” again and again until the darkness swallowed him, only when he was locked under the mountain you were able to exit the house. That was the last memory you had of him before everything that happened. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t try to exit Velaris to find him, but every time you were pushed back by the wards he placed before leaving. And one day… he returned because a human girl saved him, saved everyone. They share the same trauma. They even have a bargaining bond. Losing him to Feyre will always be your biggest fear.

“Y/n! Come here” Cassian’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You noticed that everyone had changed seats, and they were waiting for you to move next to Cassian, you glanced at Feyre who was sitting next to Rhysand on the couch -way too close for your liking. Rhys stretched to give you a kiss as you stood up, but you completely ignored him and crossed the room taking a seat next to Cassian. Rhys’ eyes stayed on you, a hurt expression on his face, you felt his talons caressing the shield around your mind and you added a second layer of adamant wall making him flinch. You could feel the anger slithering around your mating bond, and you shoved your jealousy down before blocking him from there too. Realization hit him and he only rolled his eyes.

Fine. You thought and turned your focus on the game.

Mor and Lucien guessed 4 cards, Amren and Elain 5.

It was your mate’s turn.

Rhys guessed 7 of the cards Feyre was explaining and she jumped on him hugging him tightly and squealing.

Cassian placed his hand on yours pulling your gaze from them, he offered you a comforting smile and gave you the cards, Nesta and Azriel were next and after them it was you and Cassian.

When Feyre removed herself from your mate’s lap, he didn’t dare to look at you, he just stared at his hands.

Nesta was able to guess 4 cards and then it was your turn.

“Okay..” you breathed and read the first card.

“Feyre threw this at Rhys” you started.

“Shoe” Cassian exclaimed, and everyone burst into laughter.

“You can find this in the winter court” “Uhm… Kallias” “It’s white”

“Oh I know…snow”

“yes yes… okay uhm flirty..” “Helion”

“YES, where are the Archeron sisters from” “Mortal lands” “Yesss, Lucien’s sexy brother” -Lucien choked on his wine. Rhysand scoffed. “Ew Eris” Cassian gagged.

“Uhm you and Nesta are…”

“MATES” “Oof okay uhm all Illyrians have them” “Wings?” “No you wear those” “Weapons?” “NO what else are you wearing” “TIME” Nesta shouted “You got six so that makes Rhys and Feyre tonight’s winners” “Leathers” you muttered and slapped Cassian on the back of his head.

Lucien clapped and said “Turns out Rhysand is the smart one, I always suspected it no offense y/n but you never seemed bright to me”

Silence.

You froze. Violet eyes snapped on you, you felt your face heating and your eyes watering.

A low growl filled the silence, power created by the darkest night filled the room making everyone shiver. “Say that again” Rhys’ voice was lethal, filled with rage and painful promises.

Lucien gulped, his eye wide as he stared at Rhys.

“If I remember correctly, you only guessed four cards so if six cards mean that y/n isn’t bright what does four make you?” Rhysand’s gaze was fixed on Lucien who was squirming on his seat. Everyone was staring wide-eyed, and no one dared to say anything. Rhys was absolutely terrifying especially when he got so mad.

“Answer me little fox” If him glaring was terrifying then the feline smile he now had on his face was out of this world. Poor Lucien was shaking.

“Rhys enough” you stood up and approached your mate. He got up and pushed you behind him.

“If you even look at her the wrong way, I will fucking scoop your only eye out and I will feed it to you. Now get the fuck out of my court”. And with that he pulled you out, his wings emerged from the darkness, and he pulled you in his arms shooting up.

The flight was silent, you didn’t know what to say so you decided to let him cool off, everything could wait until you were home.

Once you were in your home you hurried off to your shared bedroom, you needed a moment to pull your thoughts in order. You changed in one of your nightgowns and sat on the bed. You couldn’t believe what had happened in the last hours, how could a game night end up like this. With a deep breath you went back downstairs finding Rhys in the living room sitting on the armchair by the fireplace, a glass filled with whiskey in his hand. He was still fuming. You approached him and climbed on his lap nesting your face in his neck. His hand moved to the back of your head, and he started stroking your hair.

“I’m sorry” he muttered. “Why?” “I should’ve removed Feyre from my lap” he explained and kissed your head. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t get jealous of her… I know you love me” you whispered and nuzzled his neck harder. You wanted as much contact as you could get.

“No it’s not okay, if I saw you on another male’s lap I would fucking kill him...I will talk to Feyre.” he pulled you further onto him.

“Thank you… for everything” your voice was barely above a whisper as sleep was taking over.

“Anything for you sweetheart” he whispered leaving a soft kiss on your head.

You woke up the next morning in your bed, Rhys was spooning you, a strong arm around your waist, legs tangled, and a wing draped over you.

I hope you like it. Requests are open.

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