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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

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florencemtrash · 2 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

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.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn.

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint.

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot.

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world.

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else.

Except for me.

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too.

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other.

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet.

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance.

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift.

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice.

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms.

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city.

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you.

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library.

“They’re in love.”

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths.

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.”

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all.

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper.

“For the miss.”

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads.

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—”

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.”

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed.

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?”

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable.

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.”

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding.

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family.

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple.

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.”

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.”

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall.

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.”

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell.

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous.

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in.

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s.

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that.

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring.

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx?

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more.

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch.

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine.

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling.

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat.

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle.

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes.

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.”

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head.

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.”

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear.

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.”

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders.

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.”

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?”

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!”

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw.

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers.

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek.

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive.

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief.

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering.

He wasn’t the one you wanted.

“AZRIEL!”

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless.

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!”

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—”

“Are you hurt? What’s—”

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!”

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed.

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you.

“Az.”

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you?

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood.

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun.

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian.

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck.

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you.

Panic seized your soul.

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face.

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.

You did feel it when he broke your wrist.

When he forced the book from your grasp.

And then stabbed you in the stomach.

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides.

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned.

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place.

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW!

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body.

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.”

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.”

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose.

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street.

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master.

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot.

She was Nesta fucking Archeron.

Lady Death.

Queen of Queens.

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled.

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings.

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes.

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops.

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.”

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do.

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness.

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised.

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones.

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to.

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery.

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what….

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain.

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror.

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!”

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.”

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach.

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together.

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight.

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic.

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.”

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice.

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time.

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all.

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.”

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears.

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness.

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved.

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him.

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head.

“I know.”

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—”

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.”

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.”

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it.

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.”

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.”

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers.

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it.

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable.

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood.

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power.

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth.

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise.

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader angst

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fineghkst · 10 months

Text

Too late

Once Rhysand invites Eris to the winter solstice, you got all the attention from the heir of the Autumn Court, making a jealous Azriel.

warnings: a little bit of angst, azriel being jealous.

again, english is not my first language so possibly you can find some mistakes ahead

part II

It all started when Rhysand decided to invite Eris to the winter solstice. Azriel wasn’t happy with the idea of having that male in Velaris and the High Lord of the Night Court was very much aware of that, so he made sure to have a talk to Azriel, considering the Illyrian male almost tried to kill the Autumn Court heir in the past.

“You will treat him nicely. If you can’t do that, you are not welcome in the solstice this year.” Rhysand said. He wasn’t acting like Azriel’s brother or friend, he was acting like a High Lord, and Azriel knew he couldn’t question him. “I can’t risk ruining this alliance.”

“I understand. I will do my best to treat him… decently.” Azriel said against his will.

“Good.”

Azriel wasn’t the only one thinking it was a terrible idea, since Mor almost runaway and decided to pass the winter solstice with Emerie.

Still, Rhysand had to strengthen the alliance with Eris, and inviting him only to the Court of Nightmares wasn’t enough anymore. If he truly wanted to have the Autumn Court by his side, he had to show he trusted Eris. Nothing would prove it better than allowing his presence in Velaris.

Days go by fast, and the winter solstice finally approached. Eris arrived almost one hour late, probably trying to make a big entrance, which almost made Azriel roll his eyes in disgust.

And since Eris has put his fancy shoes in the River House, his eyes couldn’t leave you.

Azriel was pissed.

There was so many people to hook his interest, but of course, Eris Vanserra had to pick you, the only one that Azriel craved for.

His mate. His unaware mate, who didn’t realize the bond until then.

That was torture for Azriel. Pure torture to watch Eris approach you, to give a warm smile at you and slowly kiss your hand.

That should be him.

But the worst part was to watch from far you smile at him, blushing at something he whispered. Then, when Azriel thought it couldn’t get any worse, Eris put a small box out of his pocket, and give it to you, receiving a surprised look in response.

He felt his wings twitch. His shadows seemed to stop moving for a moment.

“(y/n), I couldn’t come all my way to Velaris and didn’t bring a gift to celebrate this special date” Eris said, giving you the box.

“Eris, you shouldn’t had to…”

“Of course I should. Come on, open it.”

Azriel watched you open it, and take off a bracelet. A gold bracelet with a stone pendant that seems to glow with pure fire inside.

“This is a tradition in my court, we imbue our own power inside a stone, then give it to someone…special.” Eris explained.

Azriel felt his blood boil, he could kill Eris. He should. He would.

“Calm down, Azriel.” Rhysand’s voice said in his mind.

“Don’t ask me to calm down.” He answered.

“Let her decide what’s best for her. Don’t make a scene.”

“She’s my mate! I can’t watch her with another male. I can’t watch her accepting gifts from him.”

“She’s your mate?” Rhysand gave him a surprised look.

Azriel looked again to your direction, Eris was putting the bracelet on your wrist. He gently stroked your arm afterwards and you gave him a shy smile.

He couldn’t bare looking at that scene anymore. Azriel should have told you about the bond, should have tempted to get more more close to you. If he wasn’t so busy being scared, thinking he was not enough for you, you two could have been more than friends.

But he was late now.

“Azriel?” Rhysand’s voice sounded again in his head.

“Fine. I’m afraid I can’t treat your special guest the way you want me to.” His voice echoed cold in Rhys mind “Since you don’t want me to fucking kill him, I will leave.”

His shadows were moving frenetically, trying to get more close to you. They didn’t wanted to leave you alone with Eris, just like Azriel.

But he couldn't risk ruining his brother's plans. And as much as his soul fought for him to stay with you, to tear you away from Eris, Azriel turned away and left.

He wasn’t welcome there, after all.

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #eris x reader #acotar x reader

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azrielslightintheshadows · 6 months

Text

Shadows and tears

So this is a series about Azriel and reader. English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you like it!

Summary: Reader is a tortured soul who barely escaped the brutality of the Illyrian camps finding shelter in the Day Court. Her identity was well hidden until she caught the attention of the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Will the mating bond be enough for their love to settle in?

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and trauma

You don't need a tissue box.....yet

Masterlist

Prologue , Chapter 1, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Chapter 2

You are not mine and I don’t want you to be

Days had gone by and now here you were locked in your room. When you arrived in the house of wind Rhysand showed you your room and since then you stayed inside, no one tried to get you out of your safe place, and you knew you had to thank Rhysand for that. You didn’t want to face them yet, you needed time to get your thoughts in order, also the fact that the house was enchanted and brought you everything you needed was very convenient. Today you woke up ready to face the new reality but as you got ready for the day you were slowly losing your nerve. You turned to look yourself in the mirror, wearing the Illyrian leathers Nesta sent you with a note to braid your hair and thought the sooner I learn to control my shadows the sooner I will be back to the day court. Helion had hurt you by handing you over to Rhysand like that, but you knew he only did it because he cared for you. The inner circle was really thoughtful of you, no one tried to get you to leave your room, but they all sent you things they thought you needed. Nesta sent you also a handful of novels, Feyre some oils for your baths, Mor new clothes, Amren some books about how to control your powers and Cassian some daggers for practice. Rhysand and Azriel nothing except some light caresses in your mind from Rhysand to remind you that he was waiting for you and some of Azriel’s shadows who would creep into your window to check on you. You couldn’t understand your own shadows, every time Azriel’s made an appearance yours would try to become one with them. With a sigh you opened the door and walked to the dining room seeing everyone at the table eating their breakfast. They all stopped eating and lifted their heads to look at you “good morning” you said and took a seat next to the shadow singer who was looking at you with a lifted brow. After everyone said their good morning you all started eating again. Azriel broke the silence “ready for training?” his gaze was cold, but you could see some hope flicker inside those hazel eyes. You nodded, gulped down the rest of your juice and got up following Azriel to the roof. He was wearing black t-shirt and grey sweatpants that would make you drool with the way they show his muscles if you weren’t still a little wary of the shadow singer.

“Okay so tell me how you feel your shadows” he said staring at your shadows who were trying to push his away.

“I don’t know they are like an extension of me sometimes, I think I can control them but most of the time they are like my hair, I can feel them and touch them, but I cannot control them.” You say looking at them swirling around you.

“You need to realize that your shadows have a personality of their own. Controlling them will not be that easy, I mean yeah sure you can’t control your hair, but they move with the wind or because of some moves you make, your shadows move on their own because they want to, that’s the difference. The key to control them is to understand them, become one with them and use them only in the way that makes them comfortable… after all you need them to be on your side and that means that you must respect them.” He explained and you stared at him seeing the exact opposite of what you have heard. The rumours around him describe a heartless monster who tortures people for his high lord, a dangerous darkness, you even have heard them call him God of death. How could the same man care for creatures such as shadows? Talk about respect and comfort? You were staring at him deep in thought.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something that bothered you?” he took a step back.

“No no it’s okay just thinking everything you said” you replied.

“Alright, let’s see what they want to do, stop pulling them” he said and took another step back to observe.

You took a big breath and your shadows darted towards him his own standing on guard ready to attack like hissing snakes and then he pulled them back staying defenceless while your shadows were an inch away. You took another big breath waiting for them to attack him, but they only started swirling around him like they were studying him, you even saw one caressing his cheek earning a chuckle from him. You stood there frozen a blush creeping on your face.

“They want to explore” Azriel said lifting his hand and letting one swirl around it. You noticed the scars everyone was talking about, the scars weren’t disgusting like most of them said they were telling a story you were sure of that. He caught you staring at his arms and quickly hid them behind his back. You wanted to scream no, to tell him that they didn’t bother you, but you kept your mouth shut not wanting to make the scene more uncomfortable.

After training for a few hours, you felt like your head was on fire, trying to get to know your shadows, please them but also control them was very tiring.

“I think that’s enough for today, Cassian needs the place to train the Valkyries he wasn’t very happy about pushing their training later, tomorrow we can go somewhere else if you’re okay with that.” Azriel said pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen in his face from the wind. He looked almost angelic with the sun shining all over his sharp features and his hair messy because of the wind, you could stare at him all day.

“Yeah sure, maybe you can show me Velaris if you don’t have work to do later” you replied offering him a smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m busy today… maybe tomorrow?” he asked with a smile that shocked you. You had never seen him smile and oh Mother he was absolutely stunning.

“Oh okay tomorrow then.” You said and started walking towards your room passing a girl on your way who run outside “ There you are Azzie I was hoping we could spend our evening together” she said in a chirpy voice, and you could swear you heard his smile when he replied;

“Sure sweetheart”

But…wasn’t he busy? Sweetheart? You felt an ache in your chest, but you couldn’t understand why, he wasn’t yours and you didn’t want him to be.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel fanfic

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helionpegasus · 1 year

Text

ceilings (part 4)

Azriel x Reader

masterlist

summary: Reader always had vivid dreams due her Seer heritage. But things take a twist in her life when she starts dreaming with a male she never seen, and wake up in a world that is not hers.

warnings: a bit angst

words count: 3273

author’s note: damnnn this the biggest one so far! as always, thank you for your patience <3 and i hope you like it! :)

There was too much information to absorb. Azriel’s mind was spinning since he found the female yesterday, and now this? A chance of her being able to listen to his shadows? That’s definitely not how he expected to begin his week.

He was trying to understand how the shadows are so fond of her. Because once they announced she was awake, it takes all of his strength to control them. They were trying and trying to run directly to the female, and Azriel had no clue why. And if there’s one thing that makes the Shadowsinger upset, is not knowing what’s happening with something he used to have control of.

"I don't think my shadows have the power to travel between worlds." He states.

They were in the meeting room. Cassian, Nesta, Mor and Amren arrived right after the female told the story. She came with them, eyes wide with confusion, body slightly shaking, probably scared of all the situation and scared of them.

He thought it was completely normal, given all she's been through the past day. They were a bunch of strangers to her, and she's also a stranger to them. That's why Azriel has been keeping his eye on her since they left the nursing room. She was clearly uncomfortable with the look he's giving her from the opposite side of the table, but didn't say a word of complaint.

"Maybe not traveling between worlds, but perhaps being able to connect with other shadows?" Feyre says to everyone but her stare was empty, like she's been trying to formulate a proper answer. "If she's able to hear them, like we think she is. Maybe she has such power in her world."

"I don't think that's possible." The girl says. Azriel was starting to think her accent is cute, but he'll never admit it. "I've never shown such power. I have a friend who has similar powers to that, I know how it is, but it just never happened to me. How can the first time it happens I end up in another world?

"Plus, how were you guys able to open a portal? I thought only the Horn were able to do that." Her facial features pulled in confusion.

"There's other objects that can open portals?" Nesta asked, straightening her back on the chair.

"In my world, there's the Luna Horn, a Fae relic that holds such power. My friend was trying to find it, her intentions was not to travel this much like me, but to Hel find help."

"She needs help with what?" Rhysand asks.

"Our world needs help."

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room was dense. They were still recovering from a War, now they were almost facing problems that weren’t even in their world.

Everyone got lost in their own thoughts.

Azriel didn’t waste time to call Rhysand in his mind.

“I think Nesta should play the Harp and we send this girl right where she came from.” He said once he felt Rhys presence in his mind.

“Don’t be so intransigent. She’s not some dog that we can simply deliver back to the adoption care.” His voice was firm. Making Azriel glance move to the High Lord for the first time since they arrived.

“Already so protective?”

“Not protective, Azriel. I have values. This court as well.”

Azriel was angry, because (Y/N) clearly made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, but there was this strange feeling starting to rip in his chest, a feeling that was not welcoming.

He was even more scared of his friends realizing that something was wrong. And he freely gave Rhysand the first sample of it in their conversation.

Their full minds were interrupted by the loud sound of the travelers belly. The Inner Circle realizes that she hasn't eaten for a long time.

“I’m sorry. I got dragged here while I was making breakfast.” She said with eyes wide. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

“There is no reason to apologize!” Feyre turned herself to face the female at her left side. “You must be starving, come with me. I’ll get something for you.”

She got up signaling for the female to the door. Mor and Nesta followed them right after.

“I’m sure of one thing…” Amren says when the females exit the room. “Mother wouldn’t let the world portal open and let the girl slip in our court with no purpose.”

“The thing is if the purpose is good or not.” Cassian says.

“She came with your shadows, boy.” The gray eyes fixed themselves on Azriel. “They didn’t tell you anything?”

“No. Apparently they’re refusing to. All they told me was that they found her in a cavern and brought her here.”

“I thought you controlled them.”

“Yes, I do. But I can not control what they say to me.”

The Shadowsinger’s voice was stiff. All he wanted was to have some free days to relax, and now it seemed like the Cauldron was throwing a bomb near to explode in his lap.

Rhysand and Cassian noticed their brother's change of mood since they saw him this morning at breakfast. Azriel was usually quiet, but now his silence was ice cutting.

You were walking in the hallways trying to remember all the turns you made on the big place those people called home, in case you needed to go back all by yourself.

At this point of the day, you were sure that in this world they were not near the advanced technology you had in Midgard. The lights were pure magic, not electricity; Their clothes were like the ones described in your favorite novels stuffed in your bookshelf and now while you were entering the kitchen you realize that they don’t even have a fridge.

“Do you want anything specific?” Feyre asked you.

She has been nothing but lovely with you since you met her. Clearly not acting like most female rulers you know about.

“Anything is fine, really.” You answer her with a shy smile.

“A bit of everything then, I guess.” The High Lady gives you one of her own.

The counter in front of you was full of food in a blink. Your body stiffen in surprise.

“How can you do that?”

“It’s the House.” The female that resembles Feyre says. Nesta, you remembered. “The House is conscient.”

“B-but how? It’s like a century spell or something like that?”

“Kinda like that.” Feyre says with a laugh. “There’s magic of a whole bloodline in this building, but I have to acknowledge that Nesta played an important part to make it more… alive.”

You read between the lines that they would not explain more than that to you, so you content yourself with only that.

Your belly was almost protesting again, which reminded you to make a move to eat something. The pies and cakes looked delicious, but eating something sweet being so long without eating anything didn’t sound really appealing, so you reach for a sandwich that was apparently with chicken and a salad.

At your first bite you couldn’t control the growl of satisfaction leaving your lips. With everything happening all at once you didn’t even realize you were hungry. But now that you had so much in front of you, your stomach was anxious to be full of everything you lay your eyes on.

“So… (Y/N), what do you work with in your world? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” The blonde female asked. Morrigan was a name that fitted her so well, you thought, both were extremely beautiful.

“I am in my last year of studies at Crescent City University.” You answer her once you swallow the food. The name coming out of your mouth is more familiar, saying in your accent and language. “I pretend to work with Social Sciences. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say it in your language. But basically, I want to work with people. Understand different organizations and cultures, and also learn a lot of history. That’s how I learned a bit of this language.”

“That’s really cool. I don’t think we have anything like that!” Feyre says, eyes shining with curiosity.

“The Day Court must be doing something similar, but certainly not that deep.” Morrigan add.

“You must be really smart, then.” Nesta points, making you choke on the piece of pear you were eating.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave her a nervous laugh. “That’s how you are divided here? By courts?” You changed subjects, embarrassed by the statement.

“Yes, there are seven of them. Night Court, where you are right now, Day, Dawn, Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring.” The blonde answered. “We’re in Prythian. In the Continent there’s more places, but there are no Courts, just territories.”

You nod in agreement, processing all the information. Two continents, from what they said until now, but there’s probably more.

“You said you didn’t have powers with the shadows, what powers do you have then?” Nesta asked, plating a piece of the strawberry for you and the three of them as well.

“I don’t have any outstanding power. I can levitate and summon objects like most Fae. My grandmother was a Seer, but I don’t have practice with this power, since it was always very unsteady.”

“What do you mean unsteady?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t have visions out of nowhere like other Seers. It happened like once or twice, and it was nothing big and world saving. Lately I’ve been having a lot of them in my dreams, but I still don’t know if they’re exactly visions.” You feel the edge of your ears burning when you remember about Azriel. Still not trusting them so much to say such a thing. And you feel relieved to have your hair down.

“How come you hear the shadows?” Morrigan looks at you. Her brown eyes piercing yours, like daring you.

“I-I don’t know. I heard them in one of those dreams as well, before everything.”

The blonde gaze softens, surprise flashing fast on them. Not going unnoticed by you, but you decide to not comment on it. The air in the kitchen suddenly thick.

“Well…” Feyre deflected our attention. “There’s anything more you need, (Y/N)?”

“I would like to clean myself if it’s possible.” Your voice was shy. Your body contorting while feeling the stick material of the dried blood in your shirt.

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry, we should have given you the time to clean yourself before everything.” She says grabbing your hand. “Nesta will lead you to a bedroom. You can clean yourself, put some new clothes on and later someone will pick you up for dinner.”

“Alright. Thank you so much, really. You’re making this whole experience a bit less traumatic.” A nervous laugh goes out of your mouth, your eyes watering.

“Don’t need to thank me. We’re gonna figure this all out.” Her arms embraced you.

And how you needed this. The comfort settles in your body to calm your heart at least a little bit.

But that’s not when you break down. It was after Nesta led you down the hall, to a bedroom she said was near hers in case you needed anything. When you took your clothes off and the movements seemed more heavy than normal. It was when you sat inside the bathtub, your body covered in the warm water, muscles sore from everything that you broke down.

Tears falling down your face nonstop. A million thoughts per second all at once. So many feelings at the same time, fear, tiredness, relief, sadness, and mostly, you were feeling lost. When you finally meet the person you swear to yourself would answer all your questions and lead you to find the right path. You were feeling lost.

You were trying to steady your breath, not handling the hurt in your chest, like it was almost ripping itself open. Once you are feeling more calm, you finally start cleaning yourself. Washing your hair that still has some leaves from the forest, your nails still with mud and face that you doubted that the tears already did the job for you. You trace your finger in the thin scar that took place in your ribcage, but stopped before you got caught in a loop of thoughts again.

A small presence made itself known caressing your forearm out of the bathtub. A shadow lacing itself on your arm like a bracelet.

“You’re here to give information to your master? On how pitiful I am?” You ask quietly to the dark smoke, not expecting an answer.

The shadow only hugs your arm tighter.

“I’ll consider this a no. It would be really disrespectful to take information from me while I’m bathing, though.”

It makes no way to leave your arm. Circling your wrist and forearm continuously.

“I guess I’m supposed to be able to hear you. Do you have anything to say?”

“Nothing for now.”

Your body shivers seeing the shadow move to your ear and back to your arm. So it was really it. The voice you heard before was the same as this one.

You got out of the bathtub with a sigh, deciding the time was done. Confused on how the water didn’t go cold.

Once in the bedroom you went to the drawer Nesta mentioned to find something to wear. You put a black leggings and a dark blue sweater that seemed to be the clothes you’re more used to. Socks and a pair of boots to your cold feet.

You used a product that seemed to be a hair product and brushed your hair. Your guess must have been right, because your hair detangle really easily. You finish it up and let it down to dry faster.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you realized how your eyes were swollen from all the crying and your nose red. You’re only hope was to not be so noticeable when the dinner starts.

“There’s anything for me to do while waiting? Maybe there’s a book here somewhere.” You say to no one.

You hear a muffled thud in a table near the fireplace, an inviting armchair placed near it. A book was settled on the table, a cup of fuming tea beside it.

“So you’re really conscient.” You say looking at the ceiling, and get by surprise when you see the reflections of the windows making a whole constellation in there.

“A romance, you have good taste. I think I’m gonna spend a lot of time like this to improve my knowledge in the language. Any chance you keep doing this?”

The house answer was a pile of books next to the one it placed before.

“Thank you!” You smiled brightly.

You don’t know how much time you spend reading, but you were progressing very well considering that you haven't read in the language for quite a long time. The reading got interrupted by a knock on the door. Nesta welcomed you with a soft smile when you opened it, but it slowly disappeared.

“You’re okay?” She asked, a little worried.

“Y-Yes, my eyes are still swollen?” Your hand goes right to your eyes, patting it to feel the damage.

“A little bit.”

“You can eat here in the bedroom if you prefer.” The winged male behind Nesta suggested with a look of concern in his eyes as well. Cassian, her mate.

“Ugh, it looks really that bad?” You run your hands in your face not knowing if you cover it or accept your fate.

“No! Your face looks totally fine. You’re even cleaner now!” He says.

Nesta slaps her own forehead before slapping Cassian’s arm.

“What Cassian is trying to say is that if you are still uncomfortable and prefer to be by yourself tonight is completely alright. But we would appreciate your presence with us as well.” The female says calmly to you.

“Yes, I would like to go with you.” You said a bit shy.

“Perfect!” Nesta says and you close the door behind you to follow them to the dining room.

Cassian eyes go strictly to your forearm, where the shadow is still resting. The small smile that shows in his face eases your heart.

Everyone else was in the dining room, the big table was already settled. But there was a presence of two people you haven't met yet. The first was the little baby sleeping in Feyre arms, that you supposed was called Nyx. The second was a brunette girl sitting on the opposite side of Azriel.

The conversation eases when they notice you three arrived.

“(Y/N), let me present to you.” Rhysand starts. “This is Elain. Feyre and Nesta’s sister.” He pointed to the brunette, who gave you a small smile. “And the little one is Nyx, my son.” He caresses the little boy's head.

“Nice to meet you.” You say to Elain with a smile. The female just nods in your direction.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving!” Cassian says, making Nesta roll her eyes.

She led you to the table, to sit beside her, Azriel on your right.

Then everyone enters in a conversation and serves their own plates. Nesta serves your plate before you could feel shy to do it by yourself, you say a quiet thank you to her.

The dinner flowed fast. They shared stories and news, you stayed quiet most of the time, only answering when the question was asked directly at you. You just didn’t know exactly where to place yourself there when they seemed so complete.

“You almost didn’t eat. Didn’t like the food?” Morrigan asked you.

“Oh, no! The food is delicious, I’m just full from earlier.” You explain yourself and she makes an expression like reminding what happened in the kitchen.

“That little one seems really fond of you, (Y/N).” Cassian points at your right forearm with a smirk. “It was there the whole dinner.”

Everyone's gaze went right to you, making your cheeks burn. Azriel stiff himself in the chair when he sees the shadow. The little thing quickly went to its master, twirling itself along with the others on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. They’re quite… Wild these days.” Azriel says to you.

“It’s okay, They are quite comforting.” You say with a small smile for him, already missing the light feeling in your arm.

Azriel only looks at you in a way you didn’t recognize, then he clears his throat, making everyone go back to what they were talking before.

Later that night, you twisted and turned but couldn’t get yourself to sleep. Mostly scared of what could happen while you sleep. You were on the verge of tears of frustration when you felt a familiar feeling in your arm. There was the shadow again, making you smile to yourself.

“You sense when I’m needing help?” You whisper to the shadow twirling in your wrist. “Thank you.”

With a comfortable presence and the warm bed the House made, it wasn’t a long time for you to fall asleep.

When you looked around you couldn’t place where you were. It was dark, really dark, and cold. It got you bracing yourself even with the thick sweater on.

You hear whispers, coming from behind you.

When you turn around you have to force your vision to see clearly. There was a kid embracing themself in the corner of the place.

“Hello?” You call in a low voice.

The kid looks at you. Eyes big with fear.

You know those eyes. The wings in his back were just a confirmation.

In front of you was Azriel as a kid.

taglist (overlined users i couldn’t tag):

@humanpersonlasttimeichecked @valeridarkness @his-sweet-nightmare @leeknows-wife @mich0731 @kristalhi @marina568 @brekkershadowsinger @cafe-inaaa @lovierhys @kenmaisacinnamonroll @alt-ghost @marigold-morelli @thelightnddarkness @amysangel @thecraziestcrayon @fall-myriad @a-court-of-milkandhoney @hungryforbatboys @elizarikaallen @allison-rosewood-maximoff @gamarancianne @weirdo-fun

#Azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 month

Text

"Time & the Trickster"

A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 11: London

While you cling to the slightest hope that you and Loki have a future together, the end of time becomes increasing imminent as you finally reach England and make a final dash to The Doctor.

CHAPTER WARNING (18+): smut-adjacency toward the end of the first block of text (mentions of fingering, grinding, erections, etc.)

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter

MASTERLIST

Margaret gave you a large basket of food to take with you, along with three large bottles of red wine. Once she saw you down to the docks, you took advantage of the last few hours of greenish daylight to navigate around the rocky waters that had stranded you in the first place, finally making your way out to the open, safe ocean by dusk.

Shane and Carrie remained at the helm for the evening. You, Loki, and Joey all sat on the bed down below, a bottle of wine for each of you. Under the dim light from the swinging bulb, you spent half of the night discussing possible ways to rescue Loki from his fate.

“I will die on the hill that your blonde little other half needs to pay the piper,” you grunted bitterly, sipping at your nearly-empty bottle. The wine was sloshing about in your skull, but the pleasant airheadedness didn’t completely obscure your senses yet. It just made your inhibitions subside. You nuzzled yourself under Loki’s arm, as close to being at peace as you were going to be, for now.

He rubbed your shoulder with the hand he’d had draped over it. “I know you feel that way. Please understand that it’s more complicated than that.”

“No,” you sighed with a yawn, “I don’t think it is.”

Joey nodded. “I gotta go with her on this one. We need to get her to go to your place. It’s our best move, and it’s frankly the right one.”

“You may think you know her from what you’ve seen in the show,” Loki tried to explain, “but one thing they didn’t emphasize enough was just how lethal Sylvie is. Self-preservation is her biggest priority, and anyone who stands in the way of what she is after will die.”

“If she’s so single-minded, why not trick her?” you suggested. “It’s easy to trip up someone when they’re so obsessed with something else.”

“Because she’s a Loki,” Loki reminded you. “Her intelligence matches mine, she could probably preempt my every play.”

You finished off the bottle in your hands and reached over to place it on the bedside table before rolling back under Loki’s arm. “She’s not quite the same as you,” you added. “Is there a way we can convince her that she will be seen as a hero if she does it?”

Loki shook his head. “She doesn’t want that, remember?”

“Oh right, MacSylvie wants to get back to the deep fryers,” Joey scoffed. It was still odd to you that someone of her supposed power would strive for a life where she would spend her days soaking up cholesterol through osmosis and go home to reruns of Family Guy every night. “Girl must be nuts. I think I’d prefer being alone at the end of time.”

“Nothing will give her more time to be alone with her inner monologue than the throne of timelines,” you said, the wine still catching up to you. Loki’s touch was suddenly making you sensitive. You wished Joey would leave.

“So,” Loki took a deep breath, going over everything you’d been discussing for the past several hours, “It’s possible my stone will gain some of its powers back once it’s within proximity to The Doctor’s time ship. This means that if we can power up his ship. he can take us back to the TVA, we get her to make her move in my place, and--”

“--what about lying?” you interjected. “We make it look like it wouldn’t work if it were you! Then she’ll have no choice.”

Joey smiled. “I thought you were supposed to be good at that, Lokes!”

Loki shrugged. “I still don't know if she’ll buy it. I have ventured about with her, she is clever.”

“Sometimes, when it’s down to the wire, choices have to be made in the moment,” you said. “She’s rash, quick, and reactionary. It could work, especially the more things collapse around us.”

“I think this timeline is behind the TVA,” added Loki. “Everything was already reaching a critical point when I threw the stone, and when I landed here, things hadn’t yet begun to fall apart.”

“So, we pretend to kill you in front of Sylvie when we get The Doctor to give us a lift to the TVA,” Joey mused. “You do tend to fake-die a lot, you know. No reason the rest of South Park won’t buy it if Kenny dies again.”

Loki knitted his eyebrow in confusion. “Let’s do it,” you said. “What does she know about my world?”

Loki thought for a moment. “There’s no reason to think she’d know anything more than I did when I first arrived.”

“Then she won’t know how a sonic screwdriver works,” you suggested. “Let’s get The Doctor to help us fake her out when we get to the TVA. I bet he’s the type to go along, right Joe? You’d know.”

“We can regroup with The Doctor and tell him everything,” said Joey. “But I think we’ve got this. Sis?”

You smiled. “Okay. Loki?”

Loki twisted his lip. He was about to betray Sylvie the moment he gave his word. Something about this felt wrong to him. But then again, something about her slipping off into a happily ever after while he took her sins upon himself also felt wrong. Loki had to be honest with himself, the prospect of being allowed to continue living, perhaps going off with Mobius on more adventures…it was starting to feel like a great prize at the end of the most dangerous game he’d ever played.

“Okay,” he consented. “We can fake one of you killing me. Then I’ll hide until Sylvie reaches the throne.”

You felt warm and drunk, smiling with deep satisfaction at the confirmation of Loki choosing you over her. A part of you had been worried that the connection between them had been too deep.

“Well, in that case,” Joey said, standing up and heading over to the bunk he’d taken during the first half of the trip, “I’m getting a few hours before taking over and letting the others sleep.”

“Sleep well, Joey,” said Loki.

“G’night, bro,” you yawned again.

Once Joey pulled the curtain around his bunk, you took off your jeans and crawled under the bedsheets in your t-shirt and underwear. Loki unbuttoned his shirt and let his old, dirty slacks fall to his ankles before crawling in beside you. You rolled onto your side away from him, which he responded to by tucking his chest against your back, spooning around you, and wrapping his long arms around your waist. He felt so good. For a frost giant, it was a bit odd to you that his body heat warmed you faster than a heated blanket. Not that you complained.

You smiled and moaned as you felt the erection dig into the small of your back, just above your ass. Loki was rhythmically, slowly grinding against you.

“Someone’s being a bit presumptuous,” you whispered sarcastically. “You open your legs for the God of Mischief one time…”

“You want me to stop?” Loki asked with sincerity.

“I want you to put your hand here,” you answered, taking his right hand and moving it under the hem of your shirt, letting his fingers find your puckered nipple. You allowed him to play with you in lusty silence, your pants syncopating off one another as you both began to rock your hips back and forth. You were tempted to guide his hand between your legs to let him fiddle with your clit, but you weren’t sure if you could control the moans of pleasure he could draw from you by doing that, and Joey was still only about fifteen feet away.

“You know, I don’t think Disney would appreciate you flaunting this more sexual side of yourself, Sir,” you giggled.

“Which shows how much they know. I’ve had many carnal exploits in my time.”

You took a moment to consider whether or not you wanted to ask the question that had been burned into your mind for a while now.

“Loki? Did you love her?”

A pause. “Sylvie?”

“Yeah.”

Loki took your breast fully into his hand, and he squeezed it twice before settling his palm there. His large, muscular hands were firm with you.

“No,” he began, but before you could express any relief, he amended his statement, “Not in the way you fear. Don’t worry, dove. But, I suppose my heart went out to her, with her violent past.”

“You kissed her in the show. Did you really?”

“Yes,” he sighed woefully. “I wouldn’t read too far into it. Heat of the moment, you know. In the midst of battle, you can’t tell the difference between adrenaline and--”

“--I think I understand,” you replied, not as upset as you thought you would be. “Do you think you’ll be able to stand up to her when the time comes? I can see where it might be a lot to ask.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Maybe I should look at it as finally closing the door on one part of my personality forever, ready to move on from things like youthful revenge and angry adventures.”

“That sounds like no fun,” you joked.

He chuckled and nipped on your earlobe. Loki’s finger slipped up and over your chest to where your tarot pendant hung. He began carelessly fiddling with it. Between the wine, the gentle rocking of the boat, and Loki’s tender touch, you felt yourself beginning to drift off. About three minutes of silence went by, and you began to hear the low sound of Loki’s voice, slowly humming a lullaby as he continued to lightly pet you.

“What song is that?” you asked quietly.

“An old Asgardian lullaby,” Loki answered, “In places where seidr functions, it contains magic within the melody that induces a light, peaceful sleep.”

His delightful melody was the final pillow on your bed, and you used the last of your energy to pose one final thought: “Maybe…after you’ve been back a while and everything has calmed down…you could come looking for me.”

“I--Y/N--”

“--we’ve both agreed to re-write the story,” you interrupted his attempt to hesitate. “We might have a chance at a happy ending for ourselves. You could use that stone to find your way back to me someday, don't you think?”

Loki allowed himself one more pleasurable thrust against your back even as you slipped into comfortable unconsciousness. He let his finger trace a few more inches over your cheek before tightening his embrace around your waist, holding you closer to him as if you were his teddy bear.

“Maybe I could,” Loki said with a smile no one could see, in a whisper no one could hear as he too slipped away. “I think…maybe we could.”

You were startled awake by Shane, who threw a jacket at Joey and shouted, “Everyone! You have to get up and see this!”

You were jerked from the most amazing dream of your life, still wrapped in Loki’s arms. He’d wrapped a leg over your hip and was draped over you in a highly suggestive position. Luckily, Shane didn’t seem to care. He shook himself awake with an irritable grunt. “What the hell?”

“Jesus, Shane, it’s like 8am, we’ve only been asleep for four hours!” Joey complained.

Shane ignored your bitching, insisting you all meet on deck in five minutes.

You could tell through the porthole that the sky was still green, and only brighter than it had been the day before. All three of you rushed to dress, and you barely stumbled onto the deck realizing that you still felt a little drunk from the wine you'd finished off only a few hours ago.

“Ah!” Loki winced, falling against the railing on the stairs as you made your way tipside. You were right behind him, and positioned yourself to catch him at a moment’s notice.

“Loki? Are you okay?” you shouted, afraid for him.

“I feel ill,” he said quickly. “Something feels incredibly wrong.”

You helped Loki onto the deck and sat him down in an Adirondack chair. He looked pale and dizzy. “I’ll get you some wat--”

You cut yourself off as you saw the large green landmass passing by on your left. “Oh, is that the far side of Iceland?”

Shane shook his head, confused. “No, that’s not. According to our equipment…that’s the southern coast of Ireland.”

“That’s impossible! We’ve been at sea for twelve hours,” you answered. “We shouldn’t even be past--”

“--we know!” Shane shouted in his panic.

Loki was beginning to hyperventilate, as if he’d run a mile before taking a seat. “It’s time,” he said. “We’ve got no time. Reality is bending and warping the planet now!”

“People could die, there could be massive earthquakes!” you gasped.

“If someone doesn’t save the timelines within the next twenty-four to thirty hours, everything is lost,” Loki predicted, using his intuition to make his guess.

“That soon?” you asked, almost yelling.

Loki nodded and grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. “I’m afraid so. We’re in the reality farthest from the TVA and the Citadel, and we’re already seeing matter fold in on itself!”

“We could make landfall in Southampton as soon as lunchtime,” shouted Carrie from the helm. “What the fuck?”

“It's for the best,” Loki groaned. “This must be why I feel sick.”

You looked at Joey with concern. He bit his lip, looking around nervously. “This is getting too weird, even for me, Sis!”

When you set sail weeks ago, you’d expressed some fear about making berth in Southampton when one of your companions had no ID papers. However, it was evident before you even docked that it wouldn’t have mattered, because no one around you would have bothered to notice. Everyone was running about, panic heightened at the changing planet, the green summer sky, and the other ways in which reality was shifting. You wouldn’t have considered it rioting, but people were definitely scrambling at a moderate level..

Your heart was humming as you grabbed Loki’s hand, disembarking without letting go of him. He laced his fingers in between yours, and you felt immediately safer. The moment Loki’s foot touched soil, his pocket illuminated to a bright green that even his leather jacket tried about his hips couldn’t fully conceal.

“Norns, I can feel it through the material!” he whispered to you.

Carrie shook your hand as the three of you began to discuss finding your way to London. “Shane’s staying with the boat,” she said, “But whoever the hell you are: good luck, and don’t ever ask us to do this again.”

As she left you there on the pier, Joey took out his cracked phone. “If we get a car, we can make it in about two hours.”

“Okay,” you said with sarcastic cheer, “Let’s just walk into the Jolly Ol’ U-Haul with our wallets full of pounds and totally-British driver’s licenses!”

“Already, genius, what do you suggest we do?” Joey sneered irritably.

“I don’t know…get a bus?”

“Where and how?” asked Joey.

You grunted, annoyed. “Well, where and how are we going to rent a car in England? As if you’d even know how to drive one!”

Loki was looking back and forth between you as if you were volleying at a tennis match instead of bickering back and forth. You glanced at him and instantly knew you were going to los the argument.

“Fine, Loki, we’ll steal a fucking car,” you rolled your eyes, your reaction dripping with annoyance.

He smiled and nodded. “You know me, Y/N.”

So you committed grand theft auto for the first (and only) time.. It was incredibly simple, as no one gave a rat’s ass about anything other than the sky, the shifting continents, and whatever that meant would come next.

It took you a lot longer to drive into London than you expected. It was because your brother was driving like a moron all over the wrong side of the road, not used to the British car’s inverted dashboard and wheel. He kept stopping, starting, turning into the wrong lanes, and misreading speed limit signs. It was like riding in the Cash Cab if the host were on cocaine.

“You know,” Loki said, his face turning almost as green as the stone in his pocket, “I don’t believe I was in any more danger hanging off of the Bifrost than I am right now!”

As the skyline of London first appeared over the horizon, you sighed. “So, let’s try and get over to Regent’s Park. That’s where The Doctor was allegedly last sighted.”

“How will we know he’s there? What if he isn’t?” asked Joey. “This is one of the biggest cities in the world! We could spend our whole lives here and never find him!”

“This will certainly tell us,” Loki pulled the time stone out of his pocket. It was now wrapped in heat-resistant cloth, pulsing so brightly it could have illuminated a dark room by itself. “I get the feeling that if it doesn’t outright explode upon our entering range, it will still go completely mad.”

Getting anywhere within London’s city limits was next to impossible. Traffic was backed up, drivers were irritable, pedestrians were distracted. The environment was just this side of chaotic. There was something about the tension that still hung in the air that told you the worst was yet to come if this wasn’t solved immediately.

Eventually, you spotted another vehicle that didn’t belong in this world: a 1980’s Delorean fitted with an odd white device on the top, conspicuously labeled “Mr. Fusion.”

“Oh shit, Joey, can you see that?” you pointed urgently. “It must be the Time Traveler’s Convention this weekend.”

“That ain’t good,” he replied. “The more familiar faces we see--”

“--we need to get to the park,” Loki interjected. “Now.”

“We’re half a mile away,” Joey mentioned, tapping the car’s built-in GPS. “You can run and be there in a few minutes.”

“What about you?” you asked, panic bubbling in your brain.

“I’ll find a fire zone to park in or something, you and Loki just GO!” Joey insisted, waving his arms as if to dismiss you.

“It’s WORKING!” The Doctor yelled in excitement. The TARDIS was all but fully functional, the lights now working at full capacity (if not with a green tint). “Damn, the only thing still not connecting is the time vortex itself.”

“The what?” asked Sylvie, on high alert and frequently looking toward the door.

“The time vortex. It’s what moves the TARDIS through time. She’s still not finding it…it’s like having a car without gas in it, or a computer router without internet, Sylvie. But we’re getting close!” The Doctor began circling the console like an Olympic sprinter.

“Does that mean Loki’s--”

“Oh, stop thinking about Loki for five minutes, Sylvie, and hold this a moment!” he said as he held out a frayed wire, sparks flying from the end. Sylvie didn’t move toward it.

The Doctor stopped, looking at Sylvie with renewed interest.

“What?” Sylvie asked, looking innocent.

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed with a slightest hint of suspicion. “You look anxious.”

She shrugged, putting her hand in her pocket, toying with the stone she kept there. “World’s ending, I’m out of my timeline. Why shouldn’t I be anxious?”

He decided not to pursue the matter further. There were more important things to worry about, like getting the TARDIS off of this planet before it collapsed entirely.

Hand-in-hand, you and Loki darted across the London streets at breakneck speed, able to weave in and out of the other people on the streets without any of them identifying Loki.

You always hated running. Your chest felt as if it was on fire. Your breaths were shallow and fast, and they were drying out the back of your throat. You felt a slight pull on your arm. Of course the long-legged Asgardian would have a naturally quicker pace!

“Where the hell did he say it was?” you gasped. Joey had given you vague directions based on what the car’s GPS had told him, but in the heated urgency of the moment, most of his instructions went in one ear and out the other.

“Is that it?” Loki said, stopping short to point at a cluster of trees peeking out from an alleyway that led to the next street over.

“YES!” you shouted, grabbing his hand again and yanking him along.

Sylvie wasn’t quite sure why her hair was standing on end. She refused to have her back to the door.

He’s here!

“He’s there!” you shouted, pointing across the green with Loki still attached to your hand.

“Ow! Norns!” Loki swore, even the heat-resistant handkerchief was beginning to smolder in his pocket.

You grinned as you caught your breath. “That must be it!”

“This must be it!” The Doctor said, his voice wavering just a little. He was so wrapped up in the functioning parts of his ship that he didn’t notice Sylvie ducking under the stairs to hide.

“I feel it, Sylvie! Finally, we’re going to get out of here! Are you ready?”

“Are you ready?” Loki asked.

You were standing at the threshold of one of the most iconic structures in pop culture. You could tell from the bright flashing green lights through the window that something was going down inside.

You looked up at him with a worried smile, your chest still heaving from the sudden, intense exercise. He responded by kissing you one more time. If this was going to be your last kiss with Loki, you wanted t drink every flavor from his lips and savor his taste while you could.

Sadly, he pulled away before you could even appreciate the significance, and he raised a fist to the door. “Shall we?”

You nodded and also raised a fist. “Together?”

“Always together.”

You both knocked three times in sync. The flashing green light became steady within. After a pause, both of you repeated your tandem knock.

After another pause, the doors opened.

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard

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reblogandlikes · 1 month

Text

Question, but what's the actual timeline prior acotar?

Sure, the war ended 500 years ago, but when did it start? How long did it last? Which Court fought for and against human slavery particularly in Prythian and beyond it? Was there in-fighting between the courts prior across boarders and causing political rifts between each High Lord and other nations? Which court did this main war take place? And who used the Cauldron to construct the wall in the first place?

Another question in relation to the characters.

Mor, how does her character work in the context of the book? She was known as The Morrigon, meaning she fought in war. Was cannon that she was there that even the human queens know of her, but why would she be there in the first place when she's Kiers daughter and its told that CoN is pretty misogynistic, so I'm sure there's no way in hell he'd allow his daughter to be a warrior. He still scares her in the present day, so why would he agree for her to join a war rather than staying back with the other women trapped in CoN where she can remain monitored?

Also, randomly, wtf if her power? I don't understand what "Truth" means or how it manifests and displays itself into something concrete/physical or mental.

Moving on...

We're told Tamlin betrayed Rhysand (we don't have Tamlin’s back story yet from his perspective) and that he used the information Rhysand had given due to them being friends at the time. Now, how on earth did this friendship begin? How long were they even friends for for Rhysand to have supposedly taught him about women and how to fight? How solid had the friendship been?

Speaking of these two, when exactly did they become High Lords of their courts? It can't have been for 500 years because that was the end of the first war, and Tamlin was still a child at the time. Has it only been 200 years...300...400 in actuality? 🤔

And then there’s Lucien’s timeline. How old is he? How long has it been since he was basically granted asylum in Spring? Seeming he was banished and would be hunted if he stepped foot back in the Autumn Court, did that mean Tamlin used someone else as emissary if he ever had to deal with Baron? Who is this person? Where are all the other offical delegates and Lords and those who hold some standing in any of the courts?

Speaking of missing people, who is this other daemati? Where is this other daemati? Did he, she, it even exist? Can anyone else, Jurian, for example, point them out seeming he had been attached to Amarantha's finger for centuries and saw/heard everything?

How and when did Amren escape the prison. How did Rhysand come across her? Why did she bother staying in Prythian and not go back to where she originally came from? Is she stuck? Wtf even is she if we now know she's not Asteri?

Wtf is now happening with Hybern? The King's is dead now...so? You're telling me he didn't have a council or others there ready to take over? Is there currently a power struggle? Are they potentially a threat in the future?

Why do so many characters lack surnames and other family members don't exist?

In this world, there's now been 4.5 books. Further world building could have easily been implentated to close a few gaps.

Lots of questions. I don’t care if you're pro or anti for this post. Someone, please provide me with something or theory, because I'm left filling in the gaps. I feel like I'm thinking too hard with these books when I really shouldn't take anything seriously.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #Rhysand #Tamlin #mor #Amren #First war #sjm critical #wtf sjm #acotar critical #i need some questions answered #world building #anti #pro

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maddithefangirl · 1 year

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Exhausting (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: AnGsT

Prompt: “I’m not sure love is supposed to be so exhausting.”

a/n: hiya! As I was writing this, I came across the idea of using the perfume mentioned in this fic as the basis for another fic. I'm thinking like an HP love potion type thing, but like the reader is Lavender Brown-ish. Idk. Let me know if that's something you would read.

*＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊*

You were having tea with Mor when you finally broke down.

“I just… I haven’t seen him in so long… what if he’s found someone else while he’s been away?” you said quietly.

“Nonsense! That male is crazy about you,” she replied.

“But… doesn’t he miss me? I mean, I miss him, so shouldn’t he be dying the same way I am?”

“I’m sure he does. Why don’t you talk to Rhys? He would know his brother’s feelings.”

“You know I don’t like to bother him… maybe you could ask him?”

“You know I love you, but no, hun, this is something you need to do for yourself, and you know that.”

You grumbled, “Fine. He should be home in a few days now anyways.”

…

After a couple of days, you began to worry. He should have been back by now, but for some reason, he wasn’t. You finally decided to call on Rhys for some answers.

You called to Rhys in your mind, and suddenly he was there in the doorway to your townhouse. His wicked grin was plastered all over his face mocking you, “I wondered how long it would take you to reach me.”

You frowned, “And you were just waiting on my call?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.”

“Well then, spit it out. Where is he now?”

“Is that really the question you want answered right now?”

You huffed, “...No.”

He gave you another wicked grin.

“How is he?”

“Bingo!” he all but shouted, “Well, your lover is doing great. Spending a long time in his chambers of the Hewn City.”

The thought of him doing well without you was agonizing. You frowned.

Rhys was surprised by your expression but would never admit so.

“Thanks, Rhys. You can go,” you said back.

And with that, he was gone.

…

It was one month before you saw him again. It was a rainy afternoon, and you had just come from the Rainbow taking a piano class. You were walking in the street, and you saw the magnificent pair of wings there. At first, you expected it to be a mirage, but his hands caught your eye. You knew those hands anywhere.

You almost run to him before seeing him talking to a fae female. She was breathtaking. Honestly, one of the most beautiful females you had ever seen.

That had made your entire body stop cold.

She had her hands on his arm as she surveyed his beautifully blue siphons.

This sight turned all your intrusive thoughts against you. The rain was seeping into your coat as you just stood there in the pouring rain.

You close your eyes to hopefully stop the tears from falling, but when you look back up, he’s gone.

…

It was now well into the night, and you were well into a bottle of amber liquor.

All of a sudden, the door receives a knock upon it. You were almost too incapacitated to stand, but you were able to make it to the door.

And there he was.

There in the doorway was a shivering, soaked Azriel. Your lover…Or who you thought was your lover.

You begin to shut the door on him, but his reflexes are too fast. He opens the door and takes refuge in your building.

As you retreat to your lounge chair, a hand grabs your arm. Az doesn’t understand where this coldness is coming from.

“Lover, we haven’t seen each other in some time… where are you going?” he asks solemnly.

“Az…don’t call me that. Especially after how long it has been.”

“I did everything in my power to come home sooner, I promise.”

“Don’t start making promises now. I’m done.”

“Done? I don’t understand… what happened?”

“I heard how much of a great time you were having without me. Then I saw you today in town with another fae. I don’t need anything else from you I’m exhausted.” you said in almost a whisper, “I’m not sure love is supposed to be so exhausting.”

His heart had never felt such immense pain. The world he kept envisioning coming back to his lover… gone.

There was a long pause with only the crackling of fire to break up the silence as he thought back on today.

He was walking around town trying to find the perfect gift to give his lover since he returned from his mission. There was just enough time between meetings for some time to himself, but all he could think about was you.

As he came across a flower stall, a female fae approached him, asking him if he would like to attend her bakery’s grand opening. This wasn’t uncommon as the city was still rebuilding. She was shameless in her flirting, but that wasn’t what bothered him. The scent she was wearing was some kind of witch’s brew that was designed to manipulate people into doing what they wanted. She put her hand on his shoulder as he began to fly away. He had to tell Rhys of this at once.

As the memory faded, he thought about how that looked and knew exactly what you had seen.

“Come sit, Y/N, please,” he said as he reached for your hand.

You complied and sat with him. He deserved that much.

As you sat on the couch together, you finally realized what shape he was in. He was still soaking wet, and his hair was tousled in the most perfect way. But what struck you was the darkness under his eyes. He wasn’t as good as he had led Rhys to believe. You sighed in relief as you began to listen to him. He told you everything from how his mission went to the urgent meeting for the female’s perfume.

After he said his piece, you hugged his neck. You had just gotten so in your head about everything you had forgotten to think about how Az truly feels about you. It wasn’t loving him that was exhausting, it was your mind that was exhausting. So you cried into his already wet tunic and fell asleep together on the couch.

#azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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squigglyscribble · 9 months

Text

Further thoughts about Viren connecting to the Star Arcanum. (Gonna put all this under the "read more" since I know I'm clowning.)

One thing I kept circling back to was the final scene. We seen Viren lay down and let out a visible breath (despite it being summer, so warmer temperatures).

I was curious what could be the reason for showing this?

A way to make us think this is his last breath and he is about to die?

A callback to Viren having used someone's last breath for his own devious ends--the key ingredient to fuel the vengeance spell that killed Avizandum?

But then I remembered there was a reference to a last breath in this very reason:

"and though undying, took last breath, immortal Laurelion was no more"

The poem Kazi finds about Laurelion refers to a last breath when researching how to kill a Startouch elf.

While Callum believes this poem hints at Laurelion being killed by the Novablade, Kazi says, "It's confusing," which is a cue to make us think a bit more heavily about what was just said.

My guess? When stabbed through the heart with the Novablade, Laurelion became mortal.

Now... how is this relevant to Viren?

We've been told Aaravos never lies (I know, I know, let's just roll with it). Which means he has to employ manipulation and word play as opposed to outright fabrication.

So. Let's take a looksie. Here is every line of dialogue Aaravos says in 5x09:

Aaravos: Lord Viren, fancy seeing you here. Viren: You… Aaravos: Where are you going? This is a special day. Stop. You’re so close now. We are finally on the cusp of each other’s realities. Viren: The cusp? [Aaravos takes Viren into the prison] Viren: What have you done? You’ve trapped me with you. Aaravos: No. I’ve merely borrowed your consciousness for a few moments. You are my guest. Viren: I do not want to be here. Aaravos: Ah! My freedom is so close, I can taste it. Yes. I sense Claudia approaching. Others are near as well… but no matter, your daughter is far more powerful. Now… As to the matter of your mortal existence, you cut it rather close, coming in on the 30th day, just a few hours left before your life expires. Poof! Don’t worry. Making your resurrection permanent won’t be a problem. It’s one of the old spells… Infantis Sanguine. Named for the one necessary ingredient. The blood of your child. Viren: What? The blood of my child? Aaravos: You can’t expect to wield such powerful life and death magic without some sacrifice. Viren: I am not a monster. I would never sacrifice my child! Aaravos: Relax. I wouldn’t expect you to harm Claudia or Soren. You will sacrifice your other child. Viren: My other… but I don’t have a… ? Aaravos: But you do. Viren: What, who? Aaravos: Our child. Our baby was so cute. And he’s grown into quite the strapping young homunculus. Are you telling me you can’t see the resemblance? He has my lovely eyes. I’m afraid his voice must be from your side of the family. Now he’s here for you. And I will show you how to use every drop of his living essence to restore your own life and your future. [They are back on the beach] Aaravos: The resurrection spell will expire tonight, and you will die. You must make the sacrifice. If you don’t, tomorrow, the sun will rise… and you will not. Viren: No. I won’t do it. I finally see the truth. I find myself here at these horrifying crossroads because I have followed a dark path. And worst of all, I have led my beloved daughter down this path. No more dark magic, never again! I am done with it. And I am done with you!

Aaravos refers to both Viren's "mortal existence" and says fairly plainly that Viren will "die." Both pretty clear on paper that, uh, "Viren, you're going to die. Like... you're going to be super dead, just trying to make that as understandable in so many words as possible."

That said, the phrasing "mortal existence" immediately made me think back to the Laurelion poem, as it refers to Immortal Laurelion.

If we swap the terminology, change "undying" to "dying" and "immortal" to "mortal." ... Would this not be the process of going from mortal to immortal? From mundane to Startouch?

The visible breath could've been a means to loop back to that poem, to make us think about the words and what it could mean.

And then there's this fragment of a poem called The Epic of the Void from the Evenere library from Tales of Xadia:

"From rising Sun"

"to Moonlight's grace"

"I search the Sky for any trace"

(I honestly think this is just a coincidence but it's fun.)

But I do wonder if the way Viren subverts his expected fate is that, well, he doesn't. He dies. Aaravos said he would. It seems pretty clear he will. But, through that process of dying, he is going to Change.

That goes back to the fact Viren is our butterfly here. Undergoing a metamorphosis. Two years in a Star silk cocoon. Suffering a painful perspective shift. And now he has to shed his skin to become something Different.

Anyway, a last little thing I've been chewing over:

The season 5 trailer seemed to accidentally put as its title card the season 6 title card instead where we see a solitary rising star at the bottom near the O.

(left: seasons 1-5 title splash, right: title splash from season 5 trailer)

I looked through every other title splash, and this is the only one with that star--so likely it's a mistake/error.

I'm of two thoughts on this.

The star rising is meant to represent Aaravos's escape from prison. (Likely especially in season 6.) After all, he would be flying free. Rising while his brethren fall.

The star rising is meant to represent someone connecting to the Star Arcanum. (Viren or Callum?) Aaravos is already a star (represented with the big star in the name) so why would a new star appear?

Anyway. Just some food for thought.

#tdp theory #this is a text post #i am not tagging this anything else so no one else can see my rambles #i will clown car my way into season 6 #but mostly it's just fun to think about viren connecting to an arcanum at all lmao #now to go back to the regularly scheduled art posting

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theladyofbloodshed · 5 months

Text

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 15

Cassian popping up like whack-a-mole

For days, Azriel stuck to Cassian like a cobweb. He never let his brother get an inch closer to Nesta. They’d fly together to the House of Wind for Cassian to train his wings; Azriel used the guise that he’d be there to winnow or help him fly if his wings struggled. Sometimes Nesta was out of her room in the library, but Azriel had forbidden Cassian from going there. He’d block him off or change his course. His brother saw Nesta as a challenge, a wild animal that needed taming. If Cassian so much as upset her, Azriel knew he’d lose control of that single thread of sanity he was clinging to.

It meant he could never approach her either. Whenever they returned to the town house, Rhys needed them both as they gathered more information from Spring and tried to understand Feyre’s position in the court. Whenever Rhys departed to decompress, Cassian wouldn’t let Azriel leave. On the rare time that Azriel returned to the house carved into the mountain, Nesta was fast asleep. He employed her tactics and strained to listen to her heart through the door. It was good that she was sleeping. Azriel should have been jumping for joy that her life was beginning to settle, but he wished to steal a moment with her.

‘I need you to do something for me.’

Morrigan was sprawled out in the sun with an arm tucked beneath her head. She squinted up at Azriel. On instinct, he let his wings spread to shield her face from the sunshine that had lit up Velaris’ skies.

‘What’s in it for me?’

‘Take Cassian into Velaris for the day. Most expensive restaurant. I don’t care. I’ll pay.’

Mor sat up. She groaned and stretched her neck from side to side until it clicked. ‘What’s going on with you?’

A little lie here and there was necessary. It wasn’t all a lie either. ‘He destroyed his wings for me. I can’t take being near him.’

‘Don’t feel guilty, Az. You’d do the same for him.’

At the moment, he wouldn’t. The mating bond he shared with Nesta only saw Cassian as a threat to her safety. It was becoming incrementally harder to not unleash his power on his brother to blast him to Illyria, far away from Nesta.

‘Fine. Early dinner and I can probably get him to Rita’s. But, Az, you really need to unwind too,’ she said. A smile flitted across her face. ‘For a pretty face like yours, Rita’s is always open to you.’

How could Morrigan be so unbothered by it all? Even when Rhys was trapped for fifty years, Mor hadn’t slowed her attendance at the bar.

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t wince when you get the bill.’

A nervous energy flooded Azriel’s bones the moment he knew that Cassian was elsewhere, occupied by Mor. His shadows picked up on it and buzzed around him like a swarm as he stood in the window, watching the Sidra roll by.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

‘Maybe we’ll go,’ he replied, as one skated across his cheek. ‘It’s not the same as it was before.’

Azriel couldn’t even say what it had been in the mortal manor beyond a few lingering looks in quiet moments. It had been a beginning though, a force pulling him to her. The bond had snapped when they dined for the first time. He’d thought an arrow had struck him through the heart because the force had been so strong. Even then, Cassian had been sizing Nesta up as a challenger. The thought made him burn with rage. Who was Cassian to enter the home as a guest then try to start a fight?

A cold shadow wended its way into his closed fist to force Azriel to let the tension go.

Go, they seemed to say.

Perhaps Nesta would hate him for the rest of her life. Perhaps it was deserved. Or, perhaps, this would be the first step to a future.

He had never been afraid like this. The things that Azriel had seen, the acts he had committed, never affected him deeply. He was capable of closing down his emotions. It wasn’t possible when it came to Nesta Archeron. There was so much at stake, so much to lose, to gain. His father’s rejection had ruined him. Every single relationship in his life had been impacted by his formative years – even when he knew that he was behaving irrationally, Azriel struggled to pull himself out of it.

He thought of his mother. Her unwavering love.

Azriel did know unconditional love. As much as he knew rejection, he knew how it was to be loved unconditionally. That was what he needed to hope for again.

Azriel eased out a breath.

‘You’ll be with me?’ Shadows blustered around him. ‘She likes you more than me.’

***

Repetition created habit.

Each morning, Nesta forced herself to rise, wash, dress then leave the room. A numbing dread trailed her when she entered the library, in case another confrontation with Cassian happened, but the more she repeated the behaviour, the stronger the habit became. He hadn’t been near. Sometimes she heard his booming voice, followed by the deep, quiet murmur of Azriel. Eventually, her muscles stopped tensing in the library. She could ease out the breath she was holding, perhaps even put her feet up.

Bit by bit, there was a slight improvement with Elain too. She slept less but did remain in the bed a lot of the time. Once, Nesta even managed to get her as far as the corridor before she turned around, as if awoken from a dream, and went back to the bedroom. Whenever Nesta returned to her, Elain hadn’t closed the curtains, sometimes she’d not even be in the covers, and she would eat more bites of food than previously. Elain was nowhere near where she ought to be, but there had been an improvement. That was worth being happy about.

A breeze filtered through the open window and sunlight spilled into Nesta’s lap. She was five chapters deep into a new book when a shadow crawled up her body to settle on her shoulder, almost hesitantly. She didn’t react to it, just continued reading. More and more of them came to peer over her shoulder at the book. One daring shadow brushed against her cheek, as if to say it had missed her.

‘I won’t forget you let him in my bedroom,’ she murmured then flicked the page over.

A few of the shadows scattered away bashfully at her comment but the braver ones remained nuzzling against her.

It was not until chapter seven that their singer made an appearance. Azriel swept his head into submission as he entered the library.

‘May I come in? There are a few maps I need.’

‘It is not my library,’ she said stiffly.

‘I want you to be comfortable,’ he replied.

In silence, Azriel leafed through the thick piles of maps that were gathered in the library beneath a cloth so the light would not damage them. Nesta kept her eyes pinned to him – and the open door behind him in case Cassian made an appearance.

Shadows darted at him like birds pecking at his skin.

‘Not now,’ he murmured.

They continued badgering him until he hissed out a, ‘Later.’ Then, he fled from the room with shadows chasing him.

Nesta didn’t know why but it made her laugh. For the first time since this horrible ordeal began, she pressed her knuckles to her lips and laughed on the couch with her eyes squeezed shut. It had just been so terribly funny to see Azriel chased from the room by his own shadows.

The noise drew him back to the doorway. A wedge of sunlight fell across the rug as if blocking him from entering. Azriel stood like a fallen angel, his large umber wings spread out behind him, and black hair fell into his eyes. He was beautiful. The most beautiful faerie that Nesta had seen.

‘May I come in?’ He asked the question again, eyes never wavering from her face. There was such an intensity to his voice, an urgency that had her nodding in response.

It seemed that he was trying to slow himself down as if his feet were hurrying him towards her. Indeed, shadows swirled about his boots.

‘I have something for you.’

Nesta couldn’t help but peer around his waist in case this was a trap, that another would be standing in the doorway ready for an argument. The tension of the last few months had turned her brittle, so Nesta did not know how much more she could take.

‘It will be a nice surprise, I hope,’ he explained, as he backed from the room, colour dotting his cheeks. As Azriel turned, he slammed into the door frame, making her snort with laughter again. The side of his head had clattered against the wood and the bone of his wing was lucky it did not shatter the glass. He had always seen so composed, sophisticated with his movements and being, but this was like a fawn learning how to walk. Shadows spiralled after him – even they looked as if they were mocking his unravelling.

Apart from the red mark above his eyebrow, Azriel was put together again when he returned. In his hands, he carried two large bags made of a grey material. He knelt down and loosened the drawstrings of the first bag which was bulky and heavy.

‘I ventured to the mortal manor. These are Elain’s clothes, shoes, and as many of her belongings as I could gather.’

A knot rose in Nesta’s throat as she peered into the sack and saw a familiar pastel pink gown that Father had bought her to celebrate that he had made his first trade agreement since their wealth was returned.

‘If you ever want to return there, I can-’

‘I never want to see that place again,’ Nesta said shortly.

It had never felt like a home. It was borrowed wealth from a faerie lord who had stolen her sister. No good could come from returning there.

The second bag was noticeably emptier than the first. His scarred fingers prised open the drawstring carefully. ‘There was little in your room.’

Beneath his fingers, Nesta saw gowns of cool blue and soft grey, even a cream nightgown that was her favourite to sleep in.

‘You said you had read all of the books so I didn’t bring them, but I can go back if that’s what you want.’

Nesta blinked back her tears and shook her head. ‘No. You do not need to go there again.’

‘It’s not about need, it’s about wanting, Nesta. I want you to call this home. I know it’s hard and won’t feel that way for a long time, but I want you to be happy in Velaris. I’ll do what I can to bring your happiness.’

‘Why?’

His eyes flared wide. Azriel waged an internal battle. His mouth twisted into a grimace, then he said, ‘Because you deserve to be happy.’

‘No, I’m a terrible sister who couldn’t protect either of them.’

Heat burnt in her cheeks, but Nesta could not look away from the anguish in Azriel’s eyes.

‘Do not say that.’

‘It’s the truth,’ she replied.

When his hand slid over hers, Nesta did not protest. His cool fingers encased her hand, holding it tightly. ‘It was never your responsibility to protect them, Nesta. Even so, you have done admirably.’

Before she could pull away, before she could deny his words, Azriel pulled an item from the bag.

It was the book that had been on her bedside table. She’d stayed up late reading it until her tallow candle had burnt out.

‘I don’t think you finished this one. Maybe it will have to wait with the selection available to you here.’ Azriel gave a cursory glance to the library to drive his point home.

Nesta could not stop herself.

Azriel was on his knees, holding the book out to her with one hand whilst his other held hers.

The dam ruptured.

She lifted her hand free and pressed both to her face so she could sob. Azriel had thought of her, cared enough to find her few possessions from the manor, cared enough to make meals for the last few weeks so there was always something for her to eat. For so long, Nesta had needed somebody to look after her instead. All she had ever wanted was safety, warmth, and a belly that didn’t ache from hunger. She was so tired of surviving.

Azriel slipped onto the couch beside her, arms cradling her body while she cried. Her tears were endless.

It had been so long since anybody had let her cry – since she had let anybody hold her while she cried.

The deep reverberation of Azriel’s voice came. He had opened the book from the mortal land and began to read it as if he wasn’t sure what else to do to slow her tears. Eventually, her crying slowed. Azriel continued to read, his thumb stroking a rhythm against her shoulder. Nesta knew it would be better to pull away, to scurry to her room and pretend none of his had happened – pretend he hadn’t seen her at her weakest – but it was just too nice to be close to another. For once, Nesta wasn’t holding Elain and drying her tears. It was another doing it for her.

While Azriel read, her eyes grew heavier and heavier until Nesta allowed them to close. She promised herself it would only be for a moment or two and that she’d still listen to his reading.

It was dark when she awoke. Nesta was in a bed that was unfamiliar. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the slim gap where the curtains hadn’t been pulled together properly.

For a moment, she panicked, trying to gather her bearings.

Her shoes had been removed, but not her clothing. The pins from her hair had been pulled loose too.

At the movement, Azriel snapped awake. The male had been asleep on the floor beside the bed without a blanket on his body.

‘I didn’t want to disturb Elain,’ he said suddenly, explaining why he’d brought her to this room.

Was it his room?

There was nothing within. It was barer than the guest rooms they had been put in with only a single walnut dresser in the corner and a bed.

‘I should return to Elain,’ replied Nesta.

She had to tread carefully not to put her foot on his wing. Azriel shifted to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

‘Is this your bed?’

He gave a swift nod.

‘It’s very comfortable.’

‘You can remain in it,’ he said, voice delicate. ‘I can check on Elain. I’ll sleep elsewhere.’

Why was he being so kind to her? Nesta had not earned his kindness. She could not understand why he’d try to make her happy if she had nothing to give him.

Voices carried down the corridor, filling Nesta with cold dread.

Azriel partially flew across the bedroom to bolt the door just before the handle was turned.

‘Are you still awake, brother?’

From the other side of the wood, Nesta heard a shushing sound. ‘You’ll wake the sisters.’

‘Az,’ called Cassian, with a drum of his knuckles on the door.

Azriel screwed his eyes shut then pointed beneath the bed. Fear of Cassian and Mor finding her in Azriel’s bed had her following his direction and shimmying beneath the bed frame. Nesta had been wrong about his room being barren; beneath the bed was a cache of various weapons that she had to wiggle amongst to hide.

She heard the soft trail of the door along the carpet.

‘Did you have to wake me up?’

‘You don’t sleep,’ came Cassian’s reply.

Azriel gave a sigh. ‘Tonight, I do.’

‘If you won’t come to Rita’s, you’ve got to drink with us here,’ he slurred. ‘We are celebrating.’

‘Celebrating that Cassian managed to keep it in his pants for once at Rita’s,’ supplied Mor.

Nesta tried not to roll her eyes from her hiding place. She did not know what Rita’s was, but she could make a good prediction. From the reek, they had been drinking for many hours. To her sensitive hearing, it all felt terribly loud. If they did not leave soon, Nesta would flip the bed upside down and yell at them to keep it down.

‘Not tonight, Cass. I’m exhausted. Another time.’

‘Don’t be boring.’

A long silence followed then Mor chirped up, ‘He’s right, Cass. We can drink together like old time’s sake.’

Even after the door was closed and bolted, Nesta remained on her back, staring up at the wooden slats of the bedframe.

Azriel’s knees clicked as he knelt down and peered at her. ‘You can come out.’

‘They’re drinking in the living room, aren’t they?’

To get to her room, Nesta would need to pass through that. With Cassian drinking, she knew she’d never escape a verbal spat or worse.

‘As soon as it’s clear, I’ll get you back to your room. I can’t winnow within these walls or I would already take you there.’

Nesta was stuck in Azriel’s room for the night. He seemed to realise this fact at the same moment.

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ he said. ‘Do you need something to wear?’

An old shirt was found for her and loose-fitting bottoms that were far too large to cover her legs. Azriel pressed his face into the corner of the room but Nesta still dressed in a hurry and continued to check over her shoulder to ensure he hadn’t peeked at her. When it was his turn to change, she leapt into the bed to pull the quilt over her head to hide.

Both of them were wide awake after the conversation with the other two. It was made worse by Azriel’s constant turning on the floor. His wings rustled each time.

‘Are you uncomfortable?’

‘I won’t make a habit of sleeping on the floor.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘There is room in the bed.’

Tension snapped across the room.

‘Pardon?’

In the dark, she screwed her eyes shut out of embarrassment. ‘I won’t say it again.’

Nesta wasn’t sure that she even could say it again. If the mountain caved in on them, she might thank it.

What had possessed her to say it? It wasn’t guilt. She wasn’t a kind person. There was this gnawing need that she could not name that wanted Azriel close to her.

The mattress dipped as Azriel settled on the other side of the bed. Both of them kept close to the edge, leaving an expanse of space in the middle.

‘Goodnight Azriel.’

‘Goodnight Nesta.’

#nezriel #and they were roommates

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

Rise of the Fallen

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x f!demon!reader Summary: Changes are coming to Hell as Lucifer grows tired of her role. Warnings: 18 +only, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex with some light choking involved, fighting WC: 2976

This is the fourth instalment of works in The Anthology of Asmodeus’ Heir. Part One: The Devil is in the Details Part Two: Lightbringer’s Champion Part Three: A Demon’s Work Is Never Done Part Four: Rise of the Fallen Part Five: Queen of the Damned

Blades collided with a deafening clang that left your ears ringing and your arm numb. It took everything to raise the long sword into a defensive position again and parry the strike that Morpheus aimed at your ribs. The fight in his realm had been waging for the better part of the day and while you tired, he seemed to grow more powerful.

“Good, very good,” you panted as you stepped back and reached for the skein of water hanging at your hip. “I think you have mastered the art of swordplay.”

“What's next?” Morpheus asked as he took the water you offered after stabbing his blade into the grass.

“Fireplay.” His eyebrow cocked as you opened your palm to reveal a blazing fireball. “Demon’s don’t fight fairly. They will simultaneously attack with blade and hellfire, if they are powerful enough to wield it.”

The Dukes of Hell had been forming their armies for months, readying them for the coming war. The Dukes had no care for the humans and planned to raze their lands to expand Hell on Earth. It should have been in your best interest to just keep your head down and toe the line but it was not in your mercurial nature.

“How powerful is Choronzon?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “He was a lot more powerful when he was in possession of your helm. I’m sure he is looking to even that score when the time comes.”

A hint of amusement tugged at his lips at the thought. “Without a doubt.”

“You need to practise building a shield,” you said before you threw the small ball at him.

He spun aside, dodging the fireball from hitting its target but it melted through the tail of his robe that billowed in his wake. Mild annoyance pinched his eyebrows together as he lifted the robe and stared at you through the hole.

“That is inconvenient.”

“I didn’t bring you a very expensive pair of fighting leathers for the fashion statement, Mor.” You opened both hands and held two larger flames as he took a step back. “You will find they are far less flammable than your robes.”

You threw the fire as he tried to dodge it once again and laughed at the rare stunned look on his face, your flames curling around his throat in a caress that should have been reserved for the bedroom.

“That is no hellfire,” he commented, dragging his fingers through the liquid fire in fascination. “This is fae magick.”

“You got me,” you cooed dramatically before pulling the flame back into yourself.

“But you are a demon.”

“As you, and every other being, has kindly reminded me of my entire existence,” you laughed humorlessly. “If you like I can do that with real hellfire, but it will not be as pleasant I promise you.”

“How do you possess fae magick?” he demanded as he closed the distance between you.

“Unlike my brethren, I wasn’t born in Hell. I was actually born in the Waking World” You turned your back on him as you stared across his realm, the fact you trusted him enough to give him your back not going amiss. “Asmodeus impregnated some fae bitch before he was sent back, long before they abandoned the plane and took up residence here.”

“Asmodeus is your father,” he exhaled heavily and circled around you so he could see if there was any hint of a lie.

“What the fuck did you think Asmodeus’ heir meant?”

His mouth gaped as he struggled to swallow the insult. “It is a term from Hell, I figured it was bestowed upon the same savage tournaments that earned a lot of the titles.”

“Savage,” you laughed bitterly. “It is a matter of survival, you would not understand - having received everything on a silver platter.”

“Oh, that's rich,” he growled. “At least I was created worthy of my position instead of nepotism.”

“Fuck you, Dick of the Endless. Do you think I want to inherit that responsibility?” you all but shouted as you got in his face. “Do I look like any other demon you have met? The first time we met you accused me of wearing a stolen skin.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head with a quiet, “No, you look almost human, like Lucifer does.”

“I’m no Angel, and Asmodeus was in a stolen skin when I was conceived - looking oh so utterly human.”

“Fallen Angel,” he corrected.

“Is she?” You moved on before he could ponder that question too much. “My mother took one look at me, my human ears, and cast me out onto Hell’s doorstep.”

Morpheus was silent as he stood at your side and stared out across the land as if he could see all the way to the paradise that he had gifted to the faeries. “For what it is worth, I am sorry you went through that.”

“I’m not.” You sighed as you felt his curiosity pique. “Growing up in Hell was…harsh. But at least I always knew where I stood. I like to think that makes it better than being raised by a cold hearted bitch who so easily abandoned a helpless babe. Now, if we are going to keep practising I need to feed.”

You were grateful he understood the truth telling session was over and let the subject drop. Instead he took your hand with a gentleness that softened the residual anger from the argument and began walking back towards the palace.

“Do you like the new nickname? Dick of the Endless.”

“Please don’t,” he said with pursed lips. “I was only just getting accustomed to answering to Mor.”

“But it is so appropriate!” you reasoned. “A) you have one - you can’t argue with that, B) you can be a dick - and often are without realising it, and C) you like to use…a lot.”

“What a compelling argument you have presented,” he drawled stoically.

“Sarcasm is beneath you, Dream Lord.” You nudged him in the ribs for good measure, earning one of his deep chuckles.

“Few things are beneath me, sweet demi-demon.” He whispered in your ear as the trees condensed and he pinned you between his hard body and a tree trunk. “But you will be one.”

The doors to Lucifer’s private residence swung open ominously as you approached them. It was almost completely void of light but her voice guided you to the single candle burning on a desk.

“You reek of the Endless.”

You sniffed delicately and shrugged when you smelt nothing beside the sulphur that saturated every surface of Hell. “You know Desire, they love an expensive perfume.”

Another candle flickered to life, casting an imposing shadow of Lucifer’s wings against the marble background. “How long do you think you can continue playing both sides in this war?”

You crossed the room and took the seat opposite her desk, kicking your feet up as you reclined back. “As long as you can, I suppose.”

Her lips curled up into a deceiving smile and she pressed her fingers together as she leaned forward. “I knew you were something special when I found you on my doorstep.”

You smiled back, surprised by that tidbit of information but hid it with a quick deflection. “It beats being pushed down a river in a basket.”

“Indeed.” She sat up straighter and the talons on her wings curled towards you with the promise of drawing blood should you make the wrong move. “You have taught Dream a great deal about our ways. Don’t bother to deny it.”

You chuckled at that, tipping your head back to see the detailed paintings that covered the ceiling. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have. What is this?”

“Its title is Rise of the Fallen,” she said, turning her attention to the ceiling and igniting the chandelier in the centre of it. “An Italian painter who resided here for a time, Simoni, did it. Painting ceilings was his forte and he had a vision for mine.”

You rose to your feet and circled the room, drinking in the depictions of Angels and Demons in a battle worthy of homage by the greatest bards and storytellers. Demons climbed from the fiery depths of Hell as Angels descended from the skies and you could feel the blood raining down on your skin.

You meandered through the columns, weaving your way back to Lucifer’s desk, and found her staring at the centre, where she rose above the demons and led the charge with her wings spread wide. Her pike was raised at someone she once called her brother and you swore she flinched as if she were watching the painting unfold and her spearhead penetrate Michael’s chest.

“This grim gambol with Lord Morpheus has drawn the attention of the Silver City,” Lucifer admitted, tearing her eyes away from the painting but the pain remained in those celestial orbs. “This vision cannot come to pass.”

“And you question my loyalty, your majesty.” You tutted her with a smug smile. “You should be ashamed.”

She did not smile in response as her wings drooped low. “I grow weary, my champion. So very weary. I find myself sitting here too often, staring at the images wondering if my brother sent this prophecy to condemn me or to spare me.”

“If you summoned me for advice on how to straddle a fence, I can’t help you choose a side. If you want my honest opinion, choose yourself. Fuck Hell, and fuck Heaven too.” You sat on the edge of her desk, inspecting a key carved from a bone that probably belonged to some old god like the spine that hung from Morpheus’ helm. “If you were to disappear tonight there would be chaos in the morning. But you know what? One of your sycophants will fill the vacuum left in your wake and Hell will continue on its not-so-merry way. In a thousand years your name will be forgotten.”

“Is that so…” she said, a little bewildered at your notion. “I shall think on what you have spoken. And-”

“Yeah, yeah, if I mention it to anyone then you will rip my throat out,” you finished for her as you placed the bone key back down. “Should I prepare to be woken by a riot?”

A smirk played at her lips as she pressed her index finger to them coyly. “You will just have to wait and see.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Morpheus demanded as he stirred you from your sleep, his silhouette standing at the foot of your bed.

“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn, wondering why he had sought you out at your residence in the Waking World instead of the Dreaming where you had just been.

“An emissary from Hell arrived at the Gate of Horn, she delivered this.” He tossed the item onto your lap and you frowned as you picked up Lucifer’s key. “It came with a letter.”

He walked around the bed he had shared with you countless times over the decades and placed the thick parchment into your waiting fingers.

‘Perhaps now you will reconsider that union between Hell and the Dreaming. Give my sincere regards to your inherited champion.’

“What game is Morningstar playing?” Morpheus asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

“No game,” you said as you held the page up and held a flame beneath it.

The parchment heated and revealed a second line of cursive writing appeared beneath the first.

‘No sycophant shall sit on my throne.’

“Fuck me.” You swallowed the bile rising up your throat and handed the letter back to Morpheus. “She gave you the keys to Hell. I think you are the new King.”

Already pale in colouring, Morpheus looked positively ill as your words sank in.

“Look at the brightside, Mor,” you said as you took his hand and gave it a squeeze, “at least there won’t be a war.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled as he tried to think of his next action. He had no idea how to rule Hell, it was nothing like the Dreaming - the laws vastly different in nature. His eyes snapped open and he reread the letter before looking back at you. “A union between Hell and the Dreaming. You can rule Hell in my stead.”

You pulled your hand away with a scoff. “No way in Hell, Morpheus. I’m only half demon, remember? Even if I wanted to, which for the record I don’t, do you think those assholes would let me dictate their future?”

“Their last ruler was an Angel.” He pointed out. “And the alternative is a Dream Lord.”

“I don’t even want to rule the domain I am forced to inherit one day. I don’t bloody want the entire realm.”

“I have my own realm that requires my attention.” Morpheus sighed and rose from the bed to push the curtains open and see the city of London in the predawn light. “If I devote time to presiding over Hell rather than the Dreaming humanity will suffer, as you have already witnessed before. And if Hell is left to its own devices well…you can say goodbye to your precious city. The Waking will be destroyed.”

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you stared at the key. The white bone was almost glowing in contrast to the black satin bedspread it rested upon. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“I know,” he said without a hint of humour. “I cannot do this without you.”

“I will help you, but I won’t be their Queen. You officially rule Hell from the Dreaming and I will be Regent in Dis.” You weren’t thrilled about having to reside in the capital city of Hell but you weren’t willing to risk the collapse of everything you loved in the Waking. “Those are the terms of my agreement.”

“Then I accept your terms, your highness.” He bowed his head by not quick enough to hide the little smirk at the title you now held.

You shot a lick of flame to his left, anticipating his skip to the right, straight into the trajectory of the pillow you had launched at his head. “Expect all correspondence to be addressed to Dick of the Endless.”

He tossed the pillow back on the bed with a chuckle and dropped into the space as he brushed his hair back into place. “Is that any way to treat your King?”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” you purred as you curled into his side and ran your fingers down his chest. “Were you expecting me to fall on my knees and suck your cock?”

His chest rumbled with a throaty laugh, but still your fingers danced lower until they reached his black jeans. “I wouldn't deny you if you chose to swear your fealty in such a way.”

“How gracious you are, my king.” Your sarcasm failed to hold its sharp bite as you palmed the sizable erection restricted by the tight denim fabric and you felt your body and your power respond. “I suppose we should consummate this agreement, for official purposes.”

“Naturally,” he smirked as grazed a knuckle over the stiff peak of your nipple pressed against the sheer lace of the babydoll you wore.

He took a moment to enjoy how the gauzy fabric complimented your body but his need for an outlet of his emotions quickly swelled and he tore it from you before discarding his own clothes. You fed from him, drinking in the strength he offered as he buried himself in you, trying to lose himself for a while. The moments he spent in your embrace were the moments he had no responsibility or pressure.

His teeth grazed your throat and you cried out when you felt his sharp bite, your back arching and nails raking across his skin as the ecstasy rose. “Yes, more Morpheus…”

He heeded your pleas, but not before he flipped you onto your hands and knees and entered you swiftly once again. The slapping of bodies sounded around the room and your pussy clenched when he pulled you up against his chest, his low voice vibrating in your ear as he whispered, “My pleasure is yours to consume.”

So you drank him in, and then you drank some more. He took his fury at Lucifer and drove himself harder against you, igniting the fire that kissed your skin. He took his frustration at the hand he was dealt and placed his own hand at the base of your throat, his fingers poised across your airway.

Your head fell back across his shoulder and you placed your hand over his, squeezing it tighter until stars danced across your vision and your senses were heightened with the power trapped by your physical form. The heady aroma of his pure masculine scent left you drunk and you reached above your head to curl his hair in your fingers and tugged it until his lips parted with a deep moan.

Your limbs were listless as your orgasm rocked through you with waves of tension and release and it was only Morpheus’ strong arms wrapped around your body that kept you from sinking into the cool satin sheets of your bed.

“You are mine and belong to me now,” Morpheus growled possessively in your ear as he continued to fuck your sensitised cunt to the point of overstimulisation, until you could do nothing but agree with wanton whimpers and mewls. “You are my champion and my regent.”

Flames licked his skin as you lost control of the power you kept so tightly bound and his eyes blazed with their reflection and the resentment of his position. You could taste the bitterness growing inside him and your throat constricted with the words. “Now you are truly a King of Hell.”

Click here for the fifth instalment of The Anthology of Asmodeus’ Heir: Queen of the Damned

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless smut

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emilyondemand · 2 years

Text

Counting up how many times a character appears in a book is fine and all and to readers who maybe don’t understand literary devices outside of fOrEsHaDoWinG, I can understand how this might seem compelling. But it only works when context and characterization is stripped away.

It wouldn’t matter if Azriel was in every single chapter in SF, it still doesn’t mean he’s getting a book. What character developments did Azriel actually undergo in SF?

The reader finds out:

Az hasn’t been sleeping -> because of Elain

Az is avoiding the river house-> because of Elain

Az is over Mor-> because of Elain

Az was cold and aloof days after solstice ->because of Elain

Az doesn’t want Luc*en around-> because of Elain

“His secret to tell” what is his secret?->Elain

Az doesn’t like close physical contact. Who’s touch does he actively seek out though?-> Elain’s

Az has a cold and cunning competitive streak and will pull out a master strategy in order to get the result he wants.-> I think it’s a fair assumption that this is going to correlate to him pushing back on Rhys’s order (because of his feelings for Elain)

All of the things revealed about Az revolve around Elain. Other than that, his character is static, there is no character growth, there is nothing learned about Az that pushes the narrative forward (unless he pairs up with Elain). Every single time Elain is in the room or just brought up in conversation in SF, Az has a corresponding reaction and response. (The only time this doesn’t happen is during the birth, understandably)

Elain, on the other hand, may have only shown up in 8 chapters, but she made those appearances count, because she is a dynamic character. Elain’s growth as a character has been restricted to the background, but it has been strong and steady since book 1. In her handful of appearances in SF we find out:

Elain has adjusted to life in Velaris - family, friends, community, and hobbies

She volunteers to search for the Trove despite the dangers

She offers to reacquaint herself with her powers

We find out she still has all her powers (plural)

She is pushing back on being infantilized by those around her

She has a newfound boldness and stands up to Nesta

She is not a virgin and she enjoyed her sexual experience

She is over Greyson

She is associated with stealth and secret keeping by multiple characters

She’s praying to Fae gods

She is up to something behind the scenes, that is remarked on by Cas

She’s sharing shy smiles and charged glances with Azriel

Multiple characters say not to underestimate Elain

Offer and permission

Some of Elain’s developments have to do with Azriel, but most do not. Her developments rely on her own growth as a character, not his. The same can not be said about Azriel’s character development. (This is an SJM pattern y’all)

I don’t know, but all of this sounds like it’s meant to pique the reader’s interest in Elain. And has Elain ripe to take over as the next FMC with her corresponding batboy, who’s world and development revolves around her. Az is primed to take the backseat and be Elain’s support and cheerleader in HER book. His story is going to be told, but it’s going to be told as he helps Elain on her journey of coming into herself and her power.

#coming into other things as well #👀👀👀#elriel #pro elriel

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ They had been married for many years when they met you. Amren and Nesta had formed a new group for young women that were interested in magic and witchcraft.

⭑ You were eager to join and had grown close to the women. You were taught how to heal, how to defend and attack; physically, emotionally, and mentally.

⭑ Amren was especially interested in your abilities and how well you connected with the materials. Like this is what you were meant to do.

⭑ She would talk her High Lord and Lady about you. It was only in passing; the army could use good medics, as well as the realm.

⭑ I think it would be Feyre’s idea to have a poly relationship and Rhys was a tad hesitant at first, but it was so natural when they met you.

⭑ Like the cauldron had blessed their union with a third mate.

⭑ You got along so well with both of them. Feyre did most of the talking while Rhys sat back, a loose arm around his wife.

⭑ Their children had big days - training, learning, etc. So they didn’t know about you until Rhys and Feyre were sure about you

⭑ Feeling protected at all times - you always felt safe because you were associated with the most powerful people in the realm.

⭑ Feyre loves showing you her art - particularly the paintings that she’s made of you.

⭑ You and Feyre gang up on Rhys a lot; and you have strong opinions that you aren’t afraid of sharing

⭑ Being targeted at one point or another, but the Inner Circle always has your back

⭑ Mor loves you. She loves the idea that Rhys and Feyre brought in another person into their marriage.

⭑ Elain is strongly against it, but after a few years, she would get over it. After all, they have eternity.

⭑ Bonding with Rhys over history, your love for magic, and what he’s done with Velaris.

⭑ Having sad days and you don’t want to get out of bed, so Feyre curls up behind you and strokes your hair, while Rhys flutters about, making you tea and a hot bath.

⭑ Rhys taking you flying

⭑ Date nights are so fricken FUN. Dressing up and going out to dinner, dancing, or going to the cabin ...

⭑ Rhysand orders are very VERY large bed so the three of you can sleep comfortably

⭑ But you usually sleep in the middle with Rhys spooning you and Feyre facing you, her soft breath tickling your face

⭑ You bond with the High Lord and Ladies children, who have grown up at this point. Nyx is the eldest, who understands the dynamic and finds it interesting. But also very weird because duh, it’s his parents.

⭑ Being really good friends with Azriel, Amren, and Nesta. You understand their reserved nature.

⭑ Cassian loves throwing you over his shoulder and Nesta calls out, “YOU BE CAREFUL WITH HER!”

⭑ Feyre is usually the last one to wake up each morning

⭑ Rhys leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets and his eyes twinkling, “Hello Beautiful,” he purrs.

⭑ You and Feyre get tipsy together and Rhys comes home and he’s like, “oh god...” while pinching the bridge of his nose. And you both see him and squeal, “Rhyyyysssssss!!! We missed you!” And you both run and jump on him.

⭑ Feyre’s pet names for you are, ‘love,’ ‘my heart,’ ‘honey,’ and ‘sweetheart.’

Relationship Tropes:

Wild Chaotic (Feyre) x Awkward innocent (You) x Calm and Collected (Rhys)

Moon (Rhys) x Eclipse (Feyre) x Sun (You)

Tall (Rhys) x Smol (You) x Slightly Taller than Smol (Feyre)

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ You would be in the center of a lot of sexual encounters

⭑ Rhys and Feyre had dabbled in nearly every kind of sex over the centuries. So, they were excited to try it with a newcomer

⭑ Feyre was insatiable whenever you were around; her hands finding their way under your shirt, groping your breasts

⭑ They always respect your boundaries and want to hear what you want, what you like, and dislike.

⭑ Standing and Rhys is on your right side, Feyre on your left. They’re both kissing either side of your neck, your shoulders, your chest.

⭑ They never leave you out, or make you feel like you’re the third wheel. You’re the center of attention. They’ve lived with each other for centuries, so now you’re the highlight in their marriage.

⭑ You and Feyre like to get on your knees in front of Rhys and kiss, suck, and lick his cock and balls.

⭑ Rhysand loves sloppy head; where spit, and cum are smeared over your face, dribbling down your chin.

⭑ Nipple play. Both Rhys and Feyre like their nipples pulled and bitten. Especially Feyre.

⭑ Bathing together. Wedged between Feyre’s legs as you clean Rhysand’s wings, she massages your back, while Rhys rubs her knee.

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acourtofthought · 1 year

Text

Rhys was Feyre's biggest supporter. He was the the one who wanted her deepest, darkest thoughts, who got real and raw.

“You are no one’s subject.”

“You want to save the mortal realm?” he asked. “Then become someone Prythian listens to. Become vital. Become a weapon. Because there might be a day, Feyre, when only you stand between the King of Hybern and your human family. And you do not want to be unprepared.”

“You didn’t ask. And why bother? Better to be miserable and alone.”

“Work for me,” Rhysand said.

Rhysand was silent beside me. Yet after a moment, he said, “Out with it.” I lifted a brow. “You say what’s on your mind—one thing. And I’ll say one, too.”

Cassian was Nesta's biggest supporter while also the one who wanted to understand, who confronted her with hard truths.

“You won’t join me for practice, so you sure as hell aren’t going to hold your own in a fight. You won’t talk about your powers, so you certainly aren’t going to be able to wield them.

I’m pissed off that you can’t seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her. Was it necessary to bait her like that?

“I’m tired of playing these bullshit games.”

Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. “Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me—”

Was either male always perfect? No. Did they make mistakes along the way and say the wrong thing from time to time? Definitely. Did other characters also show support for Feyre and Nesta? Sure.

But it cannot be denied that Rhys and Cassian were the main catalyst for both Feyre and Nesta's transformation into who they were meant to become. They were the ones who, throughout the females depression, kept pushing for them to fight and live (and I don't just mean in a warrior fighting sense. I mean to be more and do more). More than any other character, Rhys and Cassian fought for Feyre and Nesta.

Can the same be said for Azriel? Is he Elain's biggest supporter? Have we ever seen him encourage her? Tell her she is capable of more? Even with TT, he wasn't telling Elain she had it in her to wield it, he told her the blade itself was possibly magic and would strike true so really, she didn't need to do much at all. And thank goodness Mor begged him to sit out of the war otherwise I doubt he'd have offered up TT in the first place anyway.

Every single moment where Az could have stepped up for Elain, where he could have encouraged her to say more, could have encouraged her to do more, he dropped the ball.

“Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer.

First Az tells Elain the dagger will serve her. She doesn't need to do much at all since it's magic will strike true. Then when Elain expresses concern over her ability to use it, Az doesn't encourage her, he doesn't tell her he believes in her. Instead Feyre says "you won't have to" and that's that. Neither Az or Elain push Elain to believe in herself.

Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.” Amren supplied from across the room, Varian at her side, resplendent in his princely regalia, “They’re highly overrated.”

Again, Elain opened the door to further conversation with Az after he greeted her. It would have been a perfect time for him to ask what she thought of the festivities so far, the buildup to the holiday. This is her first celebratory gathering since leaving the Human Lands and Az has nothing to ask her?!? It's a big deal for her when you think about why she's never been to one of these yet SJM chooses to have Amren respond, leaving Az to completely drop the conversation with Elain. Sure we later see Feyre mention that he's listening to her talk about seeds but when you look back over the endgame couples, that would be like Rhys asking Feyre in ACOMAF about what paintbrushes she likes best 🤦. We never witness Elain and Az having a deep and meaningful conversation about the real problems they've got going on.

Even in ACOWAR / ACOFAS, we see Lucien talk about her being in love with Graysen and we see him discuss that she's been through something terrible. You know what Az talks about? "You got a power and the NC could use one of those!". He literally says nothing at all to her or even Feyre about the very major problems Elain is dealing with at that point in her life. How she was violated, changed, her physical decline due to eating. Even Feyre thinking about how Az stared at her too-thin body is Feyre's thoughts about Elain's fragile state, we don't know what Az is thinking.

Cassian looked at Rhys, who’d dropped off the middle Archeron sister before retrieving Cassian from Windhaven.

“You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Elain is about to see her sister for the first time in a long time yet SJM has Rhys there to fly her back and forth. And later, we find Azriel had no idea that this major moment between the sisters happened until Cassian tells him. Lucien stays away because he knows Elain doesn't want him around right now (or that's what we're to assume she feels since we don't have her pov). Rhys stayed away from Feyre at the start of ACOMAF because he thought she was happy with Tamlin. Cassian stayed away from Nesta in ACOFAS because Nesta didn't want him around (which she told him in actual words). Az stays away from Elain......... because Az chooses to stay away from Elain. Every other male did what they thought the female wanted while Az does what he wants because of his issues, not because Elain asked that he stay away.

Nesta said to Feyre, “Did you tell Elain?”. Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, “What about Mor?”

This conversation occurred after Nesta and Elain's fight about her searching for the Trove but in the same scene. The very first words Az speaks after that fight, after Feyre announces her pregnancy and Nesta asks if Elain knows are "what about Mor?". That is what / who Azriel is worried / thinking about?! Considering this male loved Mor for 500+ years but is now supposedly over her, I'd be a little triggered that Mor is the person that he's focused on at this moment.

“Do you think Nesta can find the Trove?” Azriel asked Cassian

(in one scene, we have Azriel ask if Nesta can find the Trove where in a later scene, he flat out tells everyone Elain shouldn't even try)

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

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

“But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Who stands up for Elain in this scene? Certainly not Az who seems to have no issues with Nesta searching for the Trove. And since when does an SJM Endgame male love interest believe the female he cares for is less capable of doing something than her sister? Imagine if Rhys had said, "Feyre, I don't think you're able to handle the Weaver so lets send Nesta instead." 😬. And when Amren called Az out, SJM could have had Az apologize and admit she's right but.... we..... get..... NOTHING.

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

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

Another instance where Az could have said something, ANYTHING to Elain, about Elain. This entire scene is Elain talking about her happiness over Nesta and the Valkyries, Elain talking about an experience she had in the human lands, and you know what Az wants to know? What happened to the duke. 🤦

where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them.

Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

Yes, let's again sit here and just watch Elain yet say nothing to her (which is not the same thing as what's going on with Elucien. Lucien has picked up on Elain's social cues that she is not ready to interact with him so he is respecting that). Az doesn't even nod to her in greeting, just stares at her. This female he's somehow become oh so close to and he's got nothing to say because somehow love is only heated glances and lingering touches. Can you show me one SJM endgame couple whose relationship was built on that?

“Why did you come if it torments you so much?”

“Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.”

So I guess it wouldn't hurt Elain if Az didn't show up? He's only worried about how his absence would make Rhys feel? Not the female who, according to some, loves him? And again, since when does an SJM male avoid a female who is open to seeing him because he can't handle it? Elain is willing to be around Az yet he is putting himself first by avoiding her? 🤔. Every other SJM male is willing to take whatever scraps the female throws his way. Rhys knew he was Feyre's mate and when she claimed she only wanted him for fun and a distraction, he gave that to her despite how awful it made him feel. Despite his worries that no one could ever truly want him because of who he was and the baggage that came with it.

Cassian suspected Nesta was his mate yet he still took her offers of "only sex" regardless of how that bothered him and worsened his belief that he'd always be a bastard born nobody. He still pushed to be near her anytime she showed the tiniest bit of willingness.

Az is the only male who avoids a female love interest, unwilling to accept whatever attention Elain might give him since he can't stand that the "third sister" has a bond with someone else and Lucien got to be part of a group with his brothers. Love is supposed to trump the bond, is it not? In the end, the bond isn't supposed to be the thing that matters, right? It's just supposed to be a nice bonus.

"I wasn't sure if I should give you your present". He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, and sleeping a level up."

"He left the rest unspoken". This would have been the moment folks! The moment where Az could have broached the subject about Lucien, with Elain. The moment for us to see him ask her about her bond and what her plans are. It is a huge problem that Az completely avoided the topic that they really need to discuss if they're truly in love with one another.

"This was a mistake".

No, no, no. This is all backwards because SJM likes her females to say this sort of thing, even if they don't mean it. In a romance, no one wants to see the MMC hurt the female, it's much more difficult for the male to get in our good graces after he screws her over. Unless you're into bully romance, then you know what you're asking for, but that's not SJMs style.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I don't know what you're talking about".

"What of Mor, Az?"

Azriel ignored the question.

"You believe you deserve to be her Mate?"

Azriel scowled. "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway."

"So you'll what?" "Seduce her away from him?"

Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to."

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it"

Azriel snarled softly.

"Rhys, I'm over Mor!" "I want to be with Elain because I care for her!" "I don't want her just for sex!" "We plan on talking to Lucien together!"

There are any number of things SJM could have had Azriel say to Rhys to ease his fears yet Az said none of them. And I don't want to hear that BS that Az doesn't know how to communicate well and that's why he didn't respond. If he's a big enough boy to risk the peace of their entire nation for love, if he's a brave enough boy to risk his life over and over again, he should be able to talk to his friend of over 500 years and reassure him he's not just using Elain to get laid.

If he can't do that then he isn't mature enough to be in a relationship with anyone.

But, I think what it all comes down to is the author purposely chose to let these moments pass by showing us where Azriel dropped the ball. Where he doesn't have what it takes to be the right person for Elain. There were so many opportunities where he could have been her biggest supporter (not protector), where he could have tried having a real conversation with her about her struggles, where he could have opened up and admitted to his own, and where he could have convinced Rhys, aka the readers, that his obsession with Elain was more than lust but he wasn't and he didn't.

And I think that's a pretty strong argument for why E/riel is not meant to be.

#anti e/riel #anti e*riel #antie/riel #acotar ships #elucien

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