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illyrianbitch · 3 months

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Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths — Part Two

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: inner circle being unable to emotionally regulate, y/n being a soft spot for mor, y/n being suspicious, keir (🤮), some necessary build up for future parts, men in general (🤮).

Word Count: 3.9k

←Part One Part Three→

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It didn’t take long for people to get suspicious. You had planned for this, of course, you knew the nature of your people. It took a few years, but soon enough you had a system in place; a way to get around the skeptical and paranoid eyes of Hewn City– a way to avoid the power your father held. In the worst case scenario, you always planned to take your own life. Set fire to your information, to everything that revealed the acts you had committed. Your work would die with you. After all, you swore to protect it with your life.

You were caught one evening as you returned home, becoming aware of the man trailing behind you within moments of his appearance. Easily, your hand found itself resting on a dagger hidden in your sleeve, and you pulled him into an alley, holding him with your knife against this throat.

You recognized him, recognized his golden brown hair and bright green eyes. A commander. He didn’t struggle against you, nor did he make any moves to fight back. “Please,” He had said, his arms up in surrender, “Hear me out.”

They had spent weeks deliberating their visit to you, wondering if it was worth the effort— wondering if they really needed your help. With the plan underway, Feyre, Mor, and Cassian had stationed themselves, waiting with bated breath for Rhys and Azriel's return. They knew it was unsuccessful the minute both men entered. Rhysand’s usual grace was replaced by visible frustration as he stormed in, the failure of their trip clung to both him and Azriel like a heavy layer of clothing. Mor's gaze flicked between the two, an expectant look ingrained into her strong features. Wordlessly, Rhys moved swiftly towards his office.

"So, by your cheery smiles, I'm guessing it went smoothly?"

Rhysand shot Cassian a piercing glare as he walked past, causing him to recoil in his seat instinctively. Feyre watched Rhysand's retreating and frowned, turning towards Azriel. His hazel eyes met her gaze briefly before looking away. Saying nothing, Az walked to an empty chair and dropped himself down with a deep exhale.

Feyre sighed, and with a resigned glance, she handed her wine glass to Mor, who took it without a word. With a brief look back at her friends, she made her way towards Rhysand's office as Mor eagerly poured the remaining wine into her own cup and took a large sip.

The room remained in a hushed stillness as the mated pair retreated into the office. Cassian and Mor exchanged uneasy glances before they both drew their gaze over to Azriel. His posture, typically erect and poised, now sagged as he curled into himself, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as he ran them up and down. There was a slight twitch in his wings as they settled behind him, slumped and slightly limp, reflecting a certain vulnerability– one of a man caught off guard.

It was a rare sight: Azriel, the Spymaster, usually shrouded in shadows and secrets, now laid bare before them. Az wasn’t one to wear his emotions openly, even in front of his family. He’d gotten good at it over the centuries— the practice of keeping his walls up just long enough for him to reach his bedroom, to welcome the sweet release of solidarity before he let his emotions breathe. But here he was, so evidently feeling. The sheer sight of it made Cassian uncomfortable, on edge, as if he should be prepared for an enemy to walk in any second and finish Azriel off.

"What happened back there, Az?" Cassian asked, his voice low and concerned.

Azriel hesitated.

“She called me a dog." He admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.

Cassian, taken aback, let out a sound of surprise that mirrored both a laugh and a scoff. He opened his mouth to respond, a teasing remark making itself to the tip of his tongue, but the burning intensity in Azriel's eyes, which were now on him, halted him in his tracks. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Cassian chose silence over a misplaced joke, quickly coughing to stop himself instead.

Then, he got up and slowly walked over to Azriel, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it can only get better from here, right?" He said, his voice carrying a hopeful tone as he tried to alleviate the suffocating tension that reeked in the air.

Azriel turned his head to look up at his brother, his expression a bold showing of both disbelief and deep irritation. Cassian continued.

“I mean… theres only up once you’ve hit rock bottom.”

Mor rolled her eyes. Annoyance etched across her features as she huffed audibly, setting her wine glass down with a clatter before making a swift exit.

"Well, everyone's making fun exits today, huh?" Cassian gave a wry grin, gesturing towards the space Mor had just vacated.

Azriel just sighed, sinking further into the couch, shadows swirling restlessly around him. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he saw you again. Your face. Your eyes, your anger. He ignored the way his stomach clenched as he pushed the image of you away.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Rhysand was beside himself.

Feyre could see it written on his face, felt it even deeper in her chest. His emotions were burning through their bond, hot enough for a heavy discomfort to settle in her own heart. Rhysand wasn’t just frustrated, he was angry, sad, disappointed, and guilty— all at the same time. The emotions were mixing among themselves, swirling inside of him and replacing any ability for coherent thinking. Instead, he was spewing every thought, every irritation.

"She didn't let me talk, treated me like a stranger in her home!"

Rhysand's voice was loud, an icy anger laced in it. Feyre watched as he paced back and forth, his hands clutching into fists at his side as he continued his rant. She hummed slightly.

"Well, did you at least give your condolences? For Caladan?"

Rhys stilled. He turned around and looked at his mate, at her scrunched eyebrows and expectant face. Suddenly feeling as if he was a child just caught in a lie, he looked away in shame.

“No. I did not.”

Feyre released a sigh.

“Rhys,” She said, the disappointed sound of his name falling from her lips. “That was your in.”

She was right, as she usually was. He had rushed headlong into business, seeking favors, and demanding help, and in doing so, he likely sabotaged the entire plan. And any potential for reconciliation, too. The realization gnawed at him and a sense of regret colored his features.

“Come here,” Feyre said, beckoning him to where she stood. He took hold of her extended hand and sat at the edge of his desk, taking in her kind face, the patience in her eyes. Feyre moved to stand between his thighs, her hands gently running through his hair in a soothing rhythm. The quiet, comforting touch seemed to ease some of his tension as he let out a deep breath.

"You went to her as High Lord. Maybe it would have been more successful if you had gone to her as Rhys, her cousin. Cassian seemed to think so as well.”

Rhys shook his head, leaning into Feyre’s touch.

"Cassian wasn’t there,” He said. “He didn’t see how she was, how she spoke to us—of us. She disrespected you, Feyre.”

She looked into his eyes, a dark violet now, pupils blown wide, and gave him a small smile. Threading her fingers through his hair, Feyre spoke softly to him.

"Whatever she said, I’m sure I’ve been told worse."

He shook his head again, clenching his jaw. Then, he gently reached to where her hand lay on his cheek, grabbing it in his own and bringing them to his lap.

"We may have overestimated the connection she still holds to us."

"Let's not make any assumptions now,” Feyre said with a small frown, a crease forming between her brows. “It was only one visit, and a short one at that."

Rhysand replayed the visit in his mind, the memory now a fresh and painful wound. He walked himself through it, wondering what he could have fixed, where he might have been able to mend the fraying threads of the connection you once held to him. His mind fixated on the look etched on your face, the callousness with which you addressed him and Azriel – even Azriel.

The change in you baffled him. He tugged at memories of the girl he had grown up with, the one adorned with a soft smile and bright eyes. How had that radiant spirit transformed so swiftly? The answer immediately echoed in his mind – Hewn City, an insidious place breeding misery. It had claimed you, just as it had claimed the rest.

“I don’t know what I can do,” Rhys admitted. “She was just so…”

“Cold? Detached?”

The sound of Mor’s voice caused both Feyre and Rhys to separate, turning their heads to the blonde who leaned casually against the now open door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” She said flatly. She turned her gaze to her cousin. "So, am I right? Was she cold, detached, exactly like I said she’d be?"

Rhysand shared a glance with his mate but said nothing. He couldn’t find the right words to say, and wouldn’t take the chance of saying the wrong ones. Not when the situation was so fragile, so delicate— and especially not when Mor was looking at him with that hard look on her face. The one she only wore when it came to you.

Mor took his silence as confirmation and crossed her arms against her chest. "I told you," she declared with an air of exasperation, her tone laced with pride. "It’s no use. You’ll sooner find spring flowers in the Winter Court than ever get her to agree."

Feyre felt herself deflate. She wanted to believe you were good, wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was her relationship with Nesta, a woman that she knew with anger in her veins, similar to how Rhysand spoke of you now. Or maybe it was the few times she’d interacted with you, when you’d surprised her with your sweet tone.

Feyre casted a look at Mor.

“We will figure something out. Just be patient.”

Mor let out a small scoff, shaking her head. She pursed her lips before responding.

“Patience won’t thaw a frozen heart.”

Feyre watched as Mor lingered for a moment and then excused herself. But she didn't miss the subtle shift she saw in her friend's face. Underneath her anger and pride, Mor seemed sad… disappointed.

And Feyre was right. Mor was disappointed.

She had only seen you a handful of times since you returned to the hell that you both had escaped. Each of those times had been worse than the one before, an unspoken tension between you two, harsh glances thrown when you’d meet one another's eyes. Yet, deep down, despite her worst beliefs, a part of her had held onto hope that when Rhysand and Azriel returned, you would be with them.

It was a foolish dream, and now, having heard how Rhys spoke to Feyre about you, Mor felt like an idiot for ever entertaining the idea of you coming home. Well, the idea of you at all.

As she left Rhysand’s office, Feyre’s encouraging words echoed in her head. But she couldn’t feel them, not the way Feyre wanted her too; because Mor knew, deep in her heart...

You were a lost cause.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You knew about the rumors.

Of course you did.

After all, you were the one who started them.

A part of you found it unnerving, how easily the lie rolled off your tongue. You knew that time had changed you, had hardened you to a certain extent. You wouldn't have been able to survive this city otherwise. And you'd lied a lot since your return. Your entire life was a lie.

But you had been so careful when it came to them-- to your family. You wanted to believe that you were better than the people you looked down on, better than Rhysand, better than Mor, better than the people in your life that were selfish and blinded. But maybe you weren't. Perhaps you had gotten so good at lying that you didn't even realize when you were lying to yourself. You weren't ready to face that reality yet.

Rhysand and Azriel weren't supposed to find you. They weren't even supposed to know- not yet, anyway. You had planned for more time, hoped that Rhysand would be busy with his new babe, that Azriel wouldn't be around to dig into your secrets. They hadn't frequented the Court of Nightmares recently-- preoccupied with their perfect city and the three Made sisters, you assumed. Your own sister was never a worry with her trips to Hewn City being short and far between, usually accompanied by the three men you once loved so deeply.

Azriel's stare lingered in your mind. The hazel color bore into you, made you feel like the memory itself could grab you and drag you back to a past you couldn't escape. You had dreamt of those eyes, of conversations left unfinished, of explanations that never came. Seeing him, when you had been so unprepared, so exposed, was a burning reminder of what you had lost and what you had become in its wake.

You wanted to bury the past even further into your brain, find a crevasse unfilled and stuff every thought of them into it. But you knew it would be a futile attempt. You would never be able to outrun what haunted you, not when those ghosts were still alive.

Your head pounded. You felt the urge to sit and drink your thoughts away, to find Evadne and smoke her specialty herbs. But first, you needed to protect yourself, cover your tracks. Your muddy, messy, and obvious tracks.

The night air in Hewn City was thick with the stench of filth and decay. Dirty alleys echoed with the sounds of bawdy laughter, predatory and wolfish. Occasional sounds of distress from unseen fae pierced through the night, quickly drowned out within the chaos of the city. The ground was layered with grime, and every step felt like wading through a cesspool.

You moved through the twisted streets, a heavy hood on in an attempt to go unnoticed. Still, catcalls and jeers followed. C'mere sweet thing. You continued walking. The man followed. Bet you'd be even more interesting without those pesky clothes, wouldn't you? You grimaced, swallowing the bile that rose a the sound of the grating voice. Quickly, you moved forward, avoiding his sight. Your shoulders fell in relief when you heard his retreating footsteps, followed by loud drunken complaints about how you'd ran off like a tease.

As you approached the hidden building your father had recently taken space in, the atmosphere changed. Your heart instantly felt heavier, and you began to mentally prepare yourself for the interaction. The heavy door creaked open. Keir, surrounded by a select few of his men, looked up from the table where he sat. His eyes, sharp and piercing, bore into you as you entered-- stern gaze irritated by the intrusion.

"Keir," you addressed him with a feigned urgency, "I need to speak with you."

Instantly, anger flashed in his eyes.

"Show me respect." Keir demanded sharply.

"Forgive me," You quickly corrected. "May I speak with you? It's urgent."

Keir's gaze intensified, his eyes narrowing. "How rude of you not to say hello to my men," he sneered, emphasizing each word. "It seems you've forgotten all your manners."

You forced a strained smile, acknowledging the men with a cautious nod. "Hello," you offered.

You casted a wary gaze around the room. Each man looked like a nightmare, their large and intimidating frames were adorned with scars and grimy features that bore witness to countless battles. Some wore smirks that reeked of arrogance, while others openly eyed you up and down, their predatory gazes unsettling and intrusive. Suddenly, you felt 17 again-- bare, defenseless, and vulnerable; subject to the leering gazes of those who saw you as nothing more than an object. It was a feeling you thought you'd left behind, a discomfort that dredged up memories you wished to forget.

You felt dirty, a sense of defilement creeping over you. You were a prize in their eyes, irrespective of any respect they might harbor for your father. These men, loyal or not, saw an opportunity to showcase you as a possession, a symbol of conquest. The thought of how they might do it sent a shiver down your spine, and you recoiled from the mental images that threatened to invade your consciousness. In that moment, you yearned to escape the suffocating atmosphere, to break free from the repulsive feeling that clung to you like an indelible stain.

Keir leaned back in his chair, a twisted grin forming on his lips. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Your attention fixated on Thorne, one of your father's captains. You despised him-- despised the way he wore a sense of self-importance that trailed after him like a pet, despised how he spoke, even how he walked. His eyes scanned you slowly, sweeping up and down as if assessing your every vulnerability. The strength of his scrutiny ignited a simmering anger within you, and you gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to let your temper flare.

You envisioned an alternate reality – a world where consequences were fleeting, and you could seize control. The image of slamming Thorne's head against the table played vividly in your mind. The satisfying thud, the sudden silence that followed, and the triumph of asserting dominance over the predator before you.

But reality anchored you, and you took a deep breath as your fathers voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Well? You've interrupted me, and now you've left me waiting.”

"I have news," you replied, a subtle unease settling in as you braced yourself for the next part.

"Well, speak," Keir gestured with impatience, and you sensed the collective gaze of the men fixed upon you. It dawned on you – this wasn't a private exchange. Your stage had expanded beyond just you and your father.

"I was just paid a visit by a certain spymaster," you began, your tone carefully modulated. You decided that you would keep Rhysand’s presence a secret— for now. It would bring up too much, too fast. One presence was enough. Azriel alone would do. Keir's gaze sharpened, and you noticed a subtle tensing in his posture.

"Oh, is that so?" He responded, his tone laced with a disdain that didn't go unnoticed. "And what did that deformed overgrown bat wish to talk to you about?"

You felt a strange primal urge to defend Azriel against his words. He doesn't need your protection, you thought, doesn't deserve it. But the same image from earlier came to your mind; where Thorne once was, your father had taken his place. With an internal struggle to maintain composure, you responded.

"He wished to speak to me about rumors of an uprising."

Your father perked up.

"And what did you say to this?" Keir questioned, his eyes narrowing, probing for information.

"I told him I had heard no such thing," you replied, choosing your words carefully. "That perhaps he had been listening to his shadows too much, started to hallucinate situations where he was needed."

As the words left your lips, an uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of your stomach. Each syllable felt like a burning confession, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It was a calculated deception, a necessary statement, yet the words felt wrong – a sinister compromise that clawed at your conscience.

You needed to do this to survive, you reminded yourself, they deserve it. But nonetheless, it left a residue of self-loathing. You couldn't help but compare yourself to the men in the room – those vulturous gazes, the filth that clung to them like soil. The realization that you had willingly immersed yourself in their skills, ones of deceit and cruelty, left you feeling dirty-- like you had been tainted by the same darkness you claimed to despise.

Keir responded with a contemplative "Hmmm," and you seized the opportunity to further weave your narrative.

"I told him that there are always rumors in Hewn City." You paused for emphasis before adding, "He asked me to tell him if I heard anything else. I told him no."

Silence. You resisted the urge to look away from your fathers heavy gaze, but the idea of looking at any of the other men surrounded you was a worse fate.

"How can I trust you?"

You felt his skepticism hang in the air like a heavy fog, his eyes scrutinizing you for any sign of deceit.

The weight of his distrust settled on your shoulders, and you took a moment to consider the best way to allay his suspicions. As you looked at him, a twinge of pity tugged at you. Your father, for all of his power, was paranoid and weak. He trusted no one. And you couldn't help but feel sorry for the life he led – one constantly clouded by suspicion. But that pity quickly faded. Keir deserved to live in such uncertainty, deserved every bit of discomfort that it provided.

"I hate them too," you said with an energy that mirrored the intensity in his eyes. "I hope I have proved myself thus far, proved that I want nothing more than to see them get what they deserve."

A pregnant pause lingered in the room as Keir absorbed your words. You could almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he assessed the credibility of your declaration.

"Especially Morrigan."

By the way his face slightly relaxed, you knew your words had done their job, played into his vulnerabilities with a precision that left you feeling both triumphant and repulsed.

"I'll take this into account," He conceded, his gaze lingering on you. "I'm assuming he will not be making any more late-night visits to you?"

"No,” You shook your head. “If he does, you will know.”

"Very well," Keir acknowledged. "Leave us."

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

A part of you could have sworn you detected a glimmer of pride in his eyes – a sickening acknowledgment that you had played your part too well. The sense of dirtiness clung to you like a wet blanket as you navigated your way home. The streets felt colder and the shadows more ominous, as if each and every one of them were Azriel’s and they knew what you had done-- what you had become. You wished you could shed your skin, remove the evidence of your life here, become something cleaner, something purer.

In the deafening silence of your home, you curled up in bed and shut your eyes tightly. You tired mind slowly formed it’s own hands and pulled you to images of a life before, you thought of the stars, of Velaris, of Mor, and of Azriel and his hazel eyes.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: woo!!! its starting!!! im prewriting as much as i can for this so i can get it going but eeek!! im just setting some groundwork down so stick with me babes.

y/n will be the president of the “my father is the worst man alive and i am his favorite daughter” club and the queen of dealing with anger as a form of grief.

tag list (some weren’t letting me so lets hope it works)🫶🏻

@kalulakunundrum @janebirkln @thelov3lybookworm @secretlyhers @nightcourt-daydreaming @sidthedollface2 @gorlillaglue25 @abysshaven @historygeekqueen @acourtofbatboydreams @justdreamstars @darling006 @inloveallthetime @dr4g0ngirl

#azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotarfandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #hewn city #night court #azriel spymaster #shadowsinger x reader #azriel fic

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copypastus · 4 months

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My gift for @thrumbolt for our acotar themed gift exchange. Rhys's mom with all the baby bats she took in.

#my art #acotar #acotar fanart #rhysand #rhysand's mom #rhysand's sister #cassian #azriel #i made a mistake now i wanna make more content of rhys's sister #said sjm never #but i might do it #cassian's wearing two staps of fabric hewn city dress

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 18 days

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Keir: Hey, so do you remember when you were locked inside of a spacious manor with every luxury you could ever have imagined with literally hundreds of people to talk to and things to do to keep you sane for like 10 seconds?

Feyre: OMFG YES IT WAS THE WORST THING I EVER EXPERIENCED TAMLIN IS A FUCKING VILLAIN AND I HATE HIM FOREVER

Keir: Cool cool, so... could the people of the Hewn city idk, LEAVE the Hewn city once in a while so we can see what daylight and the night sky looks like? Cause pretty much everyone was born here and have never seen the light of day so-

Feyre: JFC WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE GRATEFUL???? YOU HAVE EVERY LUXURY??? AND YET YOU WANT MORE??? OH OH, GO AHEAD AND IGNORE ME, JUST LIKE YOU IGNORE EVERY OTHER FEMALE IN UR LIFE!!

#feyre archeron #feyre #hewn city #court of nightmares #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti feyre #make it make sense sweetie

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sirenpearldust · 3 months

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Butter cookies

Notes: There may be a second part either of their future or before they were separated.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.192

Warnings: fluff

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“You look like an overgrown pigeon standing at my door. Come inside before you startle my neighbours,” she snapped, huffing.

His shadows wandered towards her easing her annoyance over being woken up from her slumber by the deranged bat - who was about to enter her domain.

She adjusted her clothes, embarrassed of wearing a tiny red nightdress in front of him. The white granny cardigan, her attempt of modesty in her hurry to open the door.

Strolling through her living room she opened the curtains, welcoming the sunlight in; unlocking the balcony door the summer breeze cleared the stuffy air.

“You do realise it’s midday,” he chuckled quietly, cutting the white roses before putting them in the blue porcelain vase he’d bought her on her 300th birthday.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t patronise me,“ she dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.

The summer breeze and the sunlight seemed to have an immediate effect of tranquility. Eyes closed she stood there drinking it all in, her skin glowed healthily.

He observed her, how his shadows engulfed her, noticing their sense of peace in her presence.

Strolling towards her, he admired the view, understanding why she chose this place over Velaris during the winter.

Turning towards him she opened her eyes, narrowing them immediately at him.

“Put the tea kettle on the stove; I want chamomile,“ she commanded.

Following her orders, he smirked and shook his head at her playful demeanour.

“You idiots seem to only remember and visit me when you’re in trouble so count me a bit surprised of your visit. Please don’t ruin my vacation and writing of my new book.“

He only hummed.

Gathering her book scripts she also set aside her watercolours, the shadows cleaned the space on the red sofa by arranging her pillows and folding her soft grey blanket.

Joining him in the kitchen, she took out her homemade sweet butter cookies and pastries, placing them on a plate to share.

Azriel attempted to grab a cookie, only to have his hand smacked. Looking at him with disappointment, she said “500 years and you still haven’t changed any bit from the boy I’ve met back then.“

Laughing, he remembered the time he and the boys successfully stole three entire batches before a party, only escaping her fury and a gruesome death by a whisker.

Carrying the full tray, he settled next to her, spreading his wings comfortably. Taking a butter cookie he swallowed it at once. He grinned at her, but she only shook her head, blowing on her tea before sipping.

“They were always your favourites.“

“Is that why you always keep making them?“

She playfully replied, “Maybe I’m just trying fatten you up, and keep you away from everyone else, all to myself and no one would suspect me.“

Smirking, he said “I don’t think I would stay fat for long in your presence; and considering your track record of attempted murder, I do think you would be the first suspect of my disappearance.” Both laughed at her past attempts of almost strangling Cassian to death for burning her kitchen down. The male was a danger to society causing uproar everywhere he went.

Turning her attention to the view outside, she felt fuzzy at his gaze.

He admired her beauty, his eyes briefly lingered on her revealed skin; quickly averting them to avoid making her uncomfortable.

His shadows started swirling between them noticing both their emotions. They took a palmier(pastry) and ate it to relieve themselves of the tension, as they were just as nervous.

Azriel felt a mix of ease and unease in her presence. Struggling with his own feelings towards her. She made him feel both whole and conflicted, his emotions stronger than ever.

The memory of their first kiss, his initial taste of feeling complete, remained etched in his mind. Without her he felt a sense of loss.

Recollections of her reassurance, gentle touch and guidance, despite her own lack of experience, remained vivid.

She embraced his shadows, knew of his status as a bastard and held his scarred hands without hesitation or prejudice.

Her tenderness towards him gave him a reason to live, a sense of worth.

Had she not made clear that she wasn’t seeking a partner at the time, he might have courted and pursued her hand in marriage.

However, one unexpected night she left by order of the High Lord to return to her family in the Hewn City, leaving him heartbroken.

Attempting to cope, he had drowned his sorrows, ending up in an unkown women‘s bed. His first time he couldn’t recall even after 500 years.

In an effort to move on from her he became infatuated with Morrigan.

Everything except her appearance reminded him of you; her innocence, her connection to the Court of Nightmares, her complicated family affairs, her defiance, her stubbornness and the light in her eyes.

It all reminded him of you, the one still holding his heart.

Noticing his absent-minded stare, she waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him back.

“I asked if you’d like to stay with me for a few days. You deserve a break,“ she insisted.

Concern etched on her face, she pointed out his exhausted appearance ,“look at how much weight you’ve lost, have you been sleeping at all?“

Bringing up his dark eye circles she gripped his chin softly rubbing his stubble.

“You didn’t shave or cut your hair! You look like an exhausted father of five!“

Holding her hand before she could remove it completely, he responded chuckling “you sound like a nagging wife, caring for the father of her five children. I’m a grown male, you don’t have to worry about me, I take care of myself.“

“Don’t downplay my worries. Did the others even notice how exhausted you look? How much work is Rhys giving you?“

Her concerned nagging continued until she caught his gaze at her lips. Her heart was about to pummel out of her chest.

Smirking, she leaned forward, teasing, “Are you listening, Azzie baby?“

His wings shuddered at her proximity and voice. His body moved closer to hers, almost tasting her sweet lips.

The world seemed to pause, their heartbeats echoing as they drew in even closer.

Almost, he almost felt the relief of her lips on his.

A loud knocking interrupted them. Abruptly they separated.

Quickly rising and tightening her cardigan against her body, she walked to her door, where her elderly neighbour awaited her.

Frustrated he groaned rubbing his face, trying to calm his heartbeat as he looked at the ceiling.

His shadows whirred violently and whispered angrily around him as they were anticipating their kiss only for their Faeries to get interrupted.

Hearing the door closing, he watched her. She remained unfazed by what had happened moments prior and approached him explaining the kinds of teas she had been gifted and the invitation she’d gotten.

“Let’s get your hair fixed before we attend, I need a plus one before mothers start throwing their sons at me again.“

Though he groaned, he agreed, his jealousy and protectiveness would not leave her to be pestered or to be taken from him.

“I’m going to my room and get ready.“

At her disappearance, the shadows whispered and gushed of the softness of her hair and skin, her sweet scent, her beautiful eyes and more - their comments never ceased.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel #azriel spymaster #night court #velaris #summer court #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #cassian #rhysand #inner circle #hewn city #court of nightmares #azriel shadowsinger

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yaralulu · 22 days

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You know I highly doubt all the people that have died and suffered and been hurt because of rhys give a flying fuck that it was all just a mask.They suffered anyways so wether it was by somebody actually evil or somebody just pretending it doesn’t matter.Literally nobody cares that it was all an act because rhys’s actions still had consequences and people had to be the bearer of those consequences,not him—all because rhys was doing it for the greater good (to protect 1/3 of his court because who cares about the rest)and he had no other choice (debatable).

Like can you imagine the people of the hewn city finding out their high lord isn’t actually the evil asshole he pretends to be but for some reason they’ve been trapped underground for centuries and the women still don’t have rights 😍😍.

I wouldn’t care about any of this if rhys didn’t act like some misunderstood nice guy and instead took some accountability and actually dropped the mask he insists isn’t who he really is.

#last rhys post i swear #on a criticizing rhys tour rn #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #night court #night court critical #hewn city

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achaotichuman · 6 months

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Honestly, the IC should’ve sent Nesta to the Hewn City instead of locking her up in the House of Wind.

Nesta would’ve convinced the Hewn City to rise up and overthrow Feysand and the bitch Court they call ‘The Court of Dreamers.’

Plus Eris would’ve met her sooner and helped her in the uprising. In return Nesta would help him kill Beron.

#pro nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta archeron #she’s that bitch #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #pro hewn city #anti ic #anti inner circle

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theladyofbloodshed · 5 months

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i am so confused

the hewn city know about the existence of velaris because they have the deal they can be "evil" as long as they leave it alone

they know mor lives there as she's the liaison between the two

the hewn city is SO evil that they never reveal Velaris' existence and keep it secret

the hewn city is also SO evil that they always agree to use their darkbringers in wars that support the high lord that they don't like

like who are they being evil to? just all being evil to each other? a competition of who can be the biggest bastard every day in the court of nightmates?

and they're not evil enough to blow velaris' cover to someone like beron?

rhys is praised for protecting velaris from amarantha... the city that nobody knows about except the hewn city and they're evil but not evil enough to also tell amarantha about it????

and rhys had enough power with one drop of power to shield a city and remove the existence of the inner circle from everybody's minds - including kier, beron and eris???

none of this makes sense

#the hewn city can be a little evil as a treat

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velidewrites · 1 year

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A Court of Thorns and Roses Locations

⤷ HEWN CITY, THE COURT OF NIGHTMARES

For @melting-houses-of-gold

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starrbirrd · 2 months

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something something ACOSF AU where the first fae-tradition Nesta learns is cutting her hair and sending it to Rhys as a declaration of war

#I'm sure y'all remember that ancient Tumblr post about this #i would love having this be a faerie culture thing #archaic but those who know and remember KNOW #probably that hewn city au with mor's sister i talked about #where she doesn't know what to make of this Made fae woman now technically in her care #she comes to breakfast one day with her hair shorn to her ears and the confusion continues #until she hears about it from keir or someone and she just LAUGHS because that's the most audacious thing she's ever seen someone do #anti rhysand #nesta archeron derserves better #anti inner circle #pro nesta #anti acosf #anti nessian

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honeybeefae · 1 year

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Pretty Little Tears (Rhysand x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY NINE: TEARS

Summary// He knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

(This is definitely one of the shorter fics for Kinktober as well as ending in an ambiguous way, I hope you guys still like it. I’m not 100% confident with it but I’ve edited it to hell and back so I think this is the best I am going to get. Enjoy! :))

WARNINGS: 18+, Smut, Degradation, Crying Kink, rough BJ, gagging

Your mate had been staring at you all night, the risque dress you were dawning barely leaving anything to the imagination. It was something you saved only for your visits to the Hewn City as it helped you get into your role of the wife of Rhysand, ruler of the Court of Nightmares.

It was a part you were new to, trying your best to match Rhys’s mask. The hardest thing was watching, and sometimes participating, in dueling out punishments for the wicked people that resided here. A part of you would feel guilty hearing their pleas and cries but knowing what they did, the innocent people who they tortured or hurt, made it easier to swallow.

Tonight was no different, though you had not heard any report of trouble so far. Everyone was dining and dancing in somewhat peace. Mor was off to the side with Cassian chatting about something, Azriel dwelling in the shadows, while you danced within the arms of one of your cousins as your mate watched from his throne above.

“You look lovely tonight, Y/N.” Your cousin, Dephren, commented. He was a head taller than you, with hair just like yours, but as wicked as they came. You would even say he could rival Mor’s father, Keir, in his attempts to gain power in the court. “I am glad to see our High Lord is keeping you in good health.”

“As am I.” You said curtly, glancing at Rhys briefly as you twirled across the floor. “I have much to be grateful for from him.”

“That you do, cousin. I must ask, though, are you sure you are satisfying him?” He asked, his eyes full of cruel mirth. “I would never insult you but I do worry about my Lord, and I as well as many others truly wonder if you are the right person for him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the other vultures of the court leering at you and eavesdropping on the conversation. It must have been talked about beforehand as someone had called away Rhys so that he was not within earshot to hear the slander they were saying.

You suddenly found yourself floundering like a fish out of water, the facade you put up cracking just the slightest bit, as Dephren spun you round and round.

“I will take your silence as answer enough.” He smirked, tightening his grasp on your hands as the music finally came to a stop. Everyone started politely clapping, gearing up for another song as your cousin bowed mockingly in your direction. “I think Remia would be a better fit for him, she certainly seems to be able to keep his attention.”

Remia was the daughter of one of Keir’s closest allies and a great beauty in the Hewn City. She was also as vicious and hungry as the rest of them, willing to follow whatever orders it took to rise above and look down on the people below. You knew your family was bitter about your new life, about how their weakest child found herself mated to the High Lord himself and cut all ties to her family.

However, you didn’t expect them to try and cast you aside so brazenly. It had you cursing at how naive you were, how you thought there was no threat to you anymore now that you were happy and loved.

His words cut through your skin like a knife as you turned to look at your mate, mouth tightening at the egregious display of affection Remia was showering him with. Mor and Cassian had picked up that something was amiss, picking up the tail end of your cousin's words and following your eyes to Rhys.

Before you could turn around and say anything to him, Mor was at your side with a glare that could turn a man to stone. “How bold of you to say the things you do about Rhysand’s mate, Dephren.” She hissed, placing herself in front of you. “Perhaps you would like to speak louder for him to hear?”

“Mor.” He nodded, forcing a polite smile. “I meant no to disrespect to Y/N, I assure you. I was simply pointing out a concern most of us have, isn’t that one of her duties?”

She opened her mouth to lay in on him but you put a hand on her shoulder, squaring your shoulders and stepping around her to stand toe to toe with him. You could sense Rhysand in your mind wondering what had drawn the crowd but you shut him out. This was something you needed to handle yourself.

What you said next, how you handled this test of disrespect, would dictate how everyone saw you. You needed to be equally as fearsome as your mate if you were going to rule beside him.

“My duty, Dephren, is not for you to question.” You challenged loudly, your voice echoing off of the mountain walls for the entire court to hear. “I can assure you that your High Lord is very satisfied with the way I fuck him. Not that it is any of your business nor whatever whore you’ve sent his way to try and distract him.”

Rhysand appeared behind you, darkness surrounding him as Dephren shrunk back in fear. You smirked as one of his hands slunk around your waist and pulled you into his side, his nose dipping into your hair as you refused to break eye contact.

You had everyone's attention now and while as before you would have shrunk back from it, now you wore it like a crown. They should be the scared ones and from the looks on their faces, it seemed that they realized what monster they awoke.

As you stood straighter and held your higher you could feel your mate's approval. Not only was he proud of you but you could feel his caress in the back of your mind, and could hear the lustful thoughts that flickered through his mind as you took a couple of steps forward. He liked this version of you.

“I find it funny cousin that you call my relationship into question when I highly doubt your wife could say the same about your performance, don’t you think?” You taunted, raising your eyebrow as his face turned a fierce shade of red.

The people behind him started to whisper and chuckle while his wife took a huge gulp of wine, trying to remain invisible. You weren’t done humiliating him though, he needed to be an example to the rest of them.

“What’s the nickname she gives you to her friends? Minute man?” The question was rhetorical as your smirk grew, hearing Rhys’s voice in the back of your mind.

I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Y/N. This poor man is about to throw himself down the side of the mountain if you continue any longer.

Hopefully, the lesson is almost learned then. I would hate to have to repeat myself.

His fingers tightened on your hip in approval, satisfied to watch you work. Dephren was a shadow of the man he was ten minutes earlier as you left your mate’s hold to stand over him. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did but you didn’t want to feel guilty now. He deserved it.

“Kneel.” You commanded, voice velvety smooth. It was only one word but it held so much power and control you couldn’t help but feel drunk off of it. “Kneel and apologize and I might forget this conversation ever happened.”

And to your surprise, he wasted no time in complying with your request. His knees hit the floor hard as he knelt at your feet, lowering his head in submission.

“Please, Y/N, forgive me.” Dephren squeaked. “I beg of you.”

You turned to Rhysand, tilting your head in question to see what he thought. He gestured towards you before crossing his arms over his chest and smiling darkly, enjoying the show.

“Just remember, my dear Dephren, who I am.” You warned, your voice like ice as you glanced around at the rest of the spectators. “As shall the rest of you. I do not forget and the next person I hear, or even think, of such slander, I shall have their tongues and their minds.”

Your skirts swished around your feet as your turned and grabbed Rhys’s hand, letting him lead you to the throne and adorn his lap as Dephren swiftly stood and disappeared into the background. There was a beat of silence before the music started back up and everyone returned to their respective places.

It was taking all of your concentration to control your breathing and not break out in a sweat as your adrenaline came crashing down. You didn’t recognize the woman saying those things as you replayed it over and over in your mind. It was as if you had been possessed by someone else.

You were wonderful, Y/N. You had me utterly entranced with your performance.

His hands grazed up your bare legs, catching on the sheer fabric as he reached the crest of your hips. It was a delicate touch that sent the filthiest thoughts into your head. You craved more, your breathing evening out as he went higher and higher until he caressed the side of your breast.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you turned to look into his violet eyes, your face flushed with desire. You were as bewitched by him as he was with you, licking your lips hungrily as he scowled at Keir who was waiting for the two of you to notice him.

“What is it now?” Rhysand snapped, holding you tighter as you began to kiss up his neck. You usually weren’t one for huge public displays of affection but with what happened tonight, it was like you were a new woman.

A hungry, aching woman.

As Keir began his question about one of the other people in the room you tuned him out, your sex slickening as you began to grow impatient at Rhys’s lack of attention toward you. His hand still rested on your hip, rubbing small, enticing circles as he droned on and on.

It was only after a few minutes you decided to take matters into your own hand. You did not know if you were feeding off the raw power you had just realized you held or if it was simply adrenaline, but whatever it was it had you worked into a frenzy.

Rhys…

Though his eyes never left Keir's, he tensed ever so slightly under your touch. You knew you had his full attention. While maintaining a bored expression on your face, you began to show him all the multiple times you had pleased him. It started off with just small glimpses of skin and soft moans but as your impatience grew, you sent him much more vulgar things.

And when you whispered into his mind just how wet you were with the picture of you exploring yourself, you felt his resolve snap underneath you like a twig.

“Do I not have you here to maintain order while I am away, Keir? Are you not able to handle things?” Rhysand snarked, raising an eyebrow as you both stood abruptly. “You bore myself and Y/N with these meaningless conflicts. If you cannot control them by yourself perhaps your leadership needs to be questioned.”

Keir immediately bowed his head while muttering apology after apology. “I did not mean to bore, my lord, nor Lady Y/N. I was simply-”

Rhys clicked his tongue, silencing the steward swiftly. “And yet you continue to do so. We will be taking our leave now but I will be returning within the next few days. I suggest you make sure everyone is on their best behavior…otherwise you might find yourself on the edge of the sword.”

“Yes, of course.” He replied with gritted teeth. Mor, Azriel, and Cassian were already gone by the time you were leaving the grand room. You smiled coyly at your mate, licking your lips as he pulled you flush against his body.

“Do not play modest with me, darling. I saw every single thought in that pretty, filthy head of yours.” Rhys smirked, already half hard from just remembering them. “If you think you are getting off easy tonight you are sadly mistaken.”

“I don’t want you to be easy tonight.” You cooed, gazing at him through your lashes. “I want you to make me scream so loud that everyone in the Hewn City knows who was right tonight.”

His eyes darkened and before you could blink you were plunged into darkness, appearing in your shared bedroom moments later. You gasped when you were shoved roughly against the door but his lips smothered yours before you could say anything else.

You melted into him, your tongue dancing with his while your hands found purchase in his hair. It was soft against your fingers, which tightened into fists when he wedged his thigh between your legs. The friction was heavenly as you had soaked through your panties, your dress allowing him easy access.

“Is that all for me?” Rhys purred into your ear, biting down on your lobe before kissing and nipping his way back to your lips. You nodded, too out of breath to say anything, to which he smiled devilishly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already speechless.”

The air around you was thick with need as you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your breast, your hips rutting against his leg. “Are you just going to talk or will I see any action from you, my lord?”

Rhysand couldn’t help but grin at your words. Even pinned against the wall, pussy dripping for him, you found a way to smart off to him. It was one of the things he loved you for, the fire within you.

With one push off the wall, he separated your bodies and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take it off. Now.”

Your heart fluttered at his change of tone, fingers trembling in excitement as you started to pull down the straps of your dress. You knew that your words had awoken that dark, sadistic streak he kept carefully locked away. It was something you didn’t get to see often but tonight you wanted it.

You wanted him to use you for pleasure, to let him so thoroughly fuck you that there was no doubt left that only you could bring him to that level of ecstasy. It seemed that Dephren’s words had indeed got under your skin but hopefully this would ease it.

Rhysand knew it as well. He had wanted to torture the greasy, traitorous man as soon as he pieced together what happened but you took over effortlessly, showing everyone in that room who you could be even though his words made you question.

His cock throbbed at the memory of you standing over Dephren, at just how utterly sexy you were at that moment.

As you let the dress fall into a pool of silk at your feet, the cool breeze making goosebumps rise on your arms and your nipples harden, the wetness between your legs only grew. It felt like it was dripping down at this point.

“Kneel.” He commanded, beginning to undo the strings of his pants while you immediately sunk to your knees. You bit down on your lip as he put two fingers under your chin, tilting it up upwards at him. “Such a good girl.”

One of his hands gripped his thick, heavy cock while the other gathered your hair into his fist. You swallowed in anticipation, both of your hands on your thighs as you opened your mouth wide for him. Just as he liked it.

Rhys growled as he slapped the head of his dick on your tongue, coating your lips with the precum that had already gathered at the tip before he thrust into your mouth with no warning. You instinctively gagged, your throat tightening around him while your hands flew to his thighs to steady yourself.

“Just like that, darling.” He grunted as he slowly fucked your mouth, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust.

You followed his lead as much as you could, your scalp burning as he tugged and pushed as he pleased. His cock was hard to fit fully in your mouth but you did your best, licking the underside every time he pulled out to drive him crazy.

Drool was escaping the seal of your lips around him, running down your chin and onto your bare chest. The moonlight shone against it, catching his attention and spurring him on even more as he truly used you to get off.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” Rhys taunted, his pupils blown wide in lust as you gargled around his length. “You crave to be used like this, for my pleasure. You want me to treat you like the secret whore you are.”

A nod was all you could muster as he pushed further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and cutting off your airway. It made you lightheaded which only seemed to enhance your feelings, one of your hands dropping to your cunt so you could thrust two fingers inside.

He laughed deeply at your desperation, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe from how far his cock was in your mouth. It was almost all the way in when you started to push against his leg in a warning. You were going to have to come up for air soon.

However, he knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

With an audible pop, he pulled himself out, your lungs burning as you coughed and sputtered. You were still slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen when two hands hoisted you up and turned you so that you were facing your mate.

“Look at you…” Rhysand praised, smearing your mascara underneath his thumb as another tear ran down your face. “Perfectly ruined, all for me.”

“Only for you.” You whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes when his hand curled around your throat assertively.

The sight of you teary-eyed and wrecked almost made him cum in his pants. You were wrapped around his finger, ready to give him whatever he wanted without realizing that the only thing he did want was you.

“Let’s see if we can wreck you even further. Can you do that for me? Can you take more?” He asked you, wanting to make sure you were okay even if he was about to bust at the seams.

You kissed him softly while grabbing his free hand and guiding it towards your sex, jumping when he brushed against your clit before pulling back so that you were looking into his eyes.

“I told you I wanted you to make me scream so loud they could hear me in the Hewn City. My mind hasn’t changed, Rhysand.” You smirked, letting him sprawl you out on the bed behind you and spread your legs impossibly wide.

Rhys crawled on top of you, kissing your forehead once, before making his way down your body. “Darling, I’m going to make you cry until the skies themselves begin to weep.”

And with one last smirk, he began to feast on your body until the very ground shook from your screams of pleasure.

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kataraavatara · 27 days

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“rhysand + ic have EVERY RIGHT to NEVER forgive Nesta for letting Feyre go out provide for their family at fourteen” please. look at hewn city. rhysand and the ic are literally the reigning champions of watching little girls suffer and not doing a thing to help them. so if anything it really should have been a bonding moment.

#nesta archeron #inner circle slander #inner circle critical #anti inner circle #rhyslander #anti ic #acotar #hewn city #hewn city acotar #carly’s anti rhysand manifesto

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illyrianbitch · 3 months

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Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway.

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy.

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air, "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

"I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice.

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

"You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up."

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch.

"Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod.

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

Text

My Little Shadow: Part two (Azriel X Reader)

Warnings!: Abusive family, toxic relationship, arranged marriage.

Part one here: Part one

Part three

Thank you for all the people who like and re-blogged my last post! I couldn't believe so many people liked my story, so I worked hard to make sure I had the second part out today! Prepare for two shadowsingers to meet. As Y/N and Azriel meet again, is it the beginning of a friendship, or something more?

The past two weeks had been a nightmare, more so than usual.

After returning to my father’s home, he beat me senseless, afterward throwing me into my room and locking it from the outside.

No one had returned to even bring me food, although luckily I had saved some in a hidden spot for times just like this. I had thought that one day I would need to hide myself, my mother, or my sisters from his wrath.

I would have never imagined this scenario, but I probably should have.

I was his only daughter born before Amarantha’s reign. He had managed to keep us off her radar, but it had only helped so much. And then somewhere in there, he decided that he wanted another child. Seeing no end in sight to our stay under the mountain, he went for it.

Thinking about back then, about what I had done to keep my sisters safe, I clenched my hands, the old scars that ran up my back, legs, and arms hurting again.

I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, attempting to soothe me.

I smiled. There was one thing they could never take away.

After I had first learned how to speak with the shadows, I had discreetly done as much research as I possibly could. I knew that different shadows preferred different ways of presenting themselves, and had seen it myself.

But these shadows had followed me from that horrible cell under the mountain, becoming the only one I could trust. They take the form of a human woman, most likely one they had seen before who wouldn’t be using it anymore.

I couldn’t make out any facial features, and if they stood real still they looked like nothing more than my shadow, but if you looked closely, you might notice how it seems darker than it should, and that when you look at them from a certain angle you noticed that sometimes they were not flat against the wall, but their own entity entirely.

They helped me stay sane under the mountain, and now they were doing the same again as I wondered what would happen when my bedroom door finally opened.

I rested my head against the wall, the chill soothing my stressed mind.

After only a moment of this, I heard my door make a resounding click as someone unlocked it.

I whipped around, standing straight with my arms behind my back, back to being the respectful daughter.

I knew my shadows had gone back to hiding, still nearby in case anything was required of them.

My father opened the door, his clothes and hair more regal and pristine than usual.

“Get yourself dressed, we have an event to attend to.” He said unemotionally, walking away and leaving the door wide open.

Dread pooled in my stomach. Whatever this was, I already knew it wasn’t going to be good.

I put on one of my more plain dresses, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. I stalled for time, taking as long as possible to do my hair.

Maybe I could attempt to stay with one of my friends until Draven gave up on this whole arranged marriage thing. Though I had no clue which of them would sell me out for the most measly of rewards. Maybe all of them would.

Eventually, I could stall no more, my father in the doorway, watching me with dark beady eyes.

“Do I have my sweet little girl back, or am I to have to deal with this ungrateful little thing that’s taken her place?” He asked, placing his hands on my shoulders as he peered into the mirror, looking me in the eye.

I swallowed the hatred that bubbled up, the urge to take the delicate handle of my hair brush and plunge it deep into his chest. I met his eyes, letting none of that show as I spoke meekly, “I’m sorry for my previous outburst father, I promise never to speak to you like that again.”

He lifted a hand to stroke my hair, his expression almost sweet as he smiled, speaking low, “Good, I love you my darling girl. You are making me proud, and helping all of us. Never forget that.”

I forced myself not to shiver as he kissed my head before leaving the room.

Getting up to follow him, I took a few calming breaths, stealing myself for whatever may come.

After surviving years under the mountain, this should be nothing. But sometimes it felt as if I had more freedom then, than I ever will again.

Everyone was gathered in the main room, waiting for me.

None of them spoke a word to me as my father opened the door, and we all followed him out.

I had three younger sisters, and to my father’s disappointment, no brothers. My sisters crowded around me, offering silent comfort, my mother walking at my fathers side.

Was that what my life was going to look like after the marriage? Living a life in silent fear, with no hope of a better future as I was forced to watch my own children be sold away.

I started to feel sick again.

We eventually stopped in a hall and I recognised the rest of the way, leading the way to the living quarters of Keir.

“All of you stay here, and talk to no one.” My father instructed as he straightened the lapel of his jacket.

He looked at me, and I lowered my head as he spoke, “When I call for you, you will behave like the lady you are. Or there will be consequences. Understood?”

I nodded, not meeting his stare.

He made a smug noise before turning and walking the rest of the way down the hall. Keir opened the door after one knock, ushering him in quickly.

We stood there in silence for another moment before I felt a hand grasp mine. “It’ll be okay.”

I looked down to see my youngest sister grabbing my hand. She was too young to understand the difference between this place and Under the Mountain.

I gave her a little smile, placing a reassuring hand on her head. “Of course it’ll be alright. It may seem scary now, but remember what we always say-”

We both spoke at the same time, “Nothing can hurt us as long as we’re together.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wet with the beginning of tears. “But we aren’t going to be together.”

I knew that if my father saw, he would scold me, but I pulled her close into a tight embrace. “It’ll be alright darling, nothing can come between sisters.”

I let her go, quickly smoothing out my dress.

Feeling eyes on me, I looked up to see my mother quickly looking away.

I knew this wasn’t the life she had wanted either. She used to tell me stories of her family, who hadn’t lived in Hewn City but had been just as cruel. They had sold her to my father, just as he was now going to sell me.

Keir’s door opened, and my father poked his head out beckoning me in.

I obediently came to him, and he pulled me inside, shutting the door quickly behind us.

Keir’s taste in decor was awful. Everything had edges sharp enough to draw blood and there was almost no color in anything. It had a somewhat normal sitting situation, but what intrigued me was the painting that hung in the middle of the room, the subject of the portate being solidly him, with all of his family except his daughter sitting around him.

I swear I could see where she had been painted out.

“So this is the daughter you wish to wed to Draven?” Kier asked from the large chair he was lounging in, a disgusting smile on his face as he studied me.

Don’t react, don’t show what you think.

“Yes, say hi Y/N.”

“Hello.” I said meekly, not looking either of them in the eye.

I heard the floor creak, not realizing Keir had gotten up until he was tugging my chin upwards, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Hmmmm.” He hummed as he studied my bruised face before letting me go.

“I heard about her little outburst earlier this month. If anyone will be able to tame her, it will be Draven. You have my approval.”

My stomach churned, and I wanted to scream, not hearing the self satisfied words they were passing back and forth now that my fate had been sealed.

I only came back to reality when my father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Did you hear me Y/N? I said it’s time to go.”

I bowed my head, following him out and back to my family.

Apparently, my house arrest was over, because once we made it back to one of the more public halls, he announced he would be at home celebrating if anyone needed him or my mother, dragging her off.

Two of my sisters were quick to rush off, but My youngest sister, Stella, stayed by my side as my eyes unfocused, unable to breathe as the panic struck me in full force.

Stella hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly, breathing in her scent of sugar, dust, and warmth, knowing that soon I would never see her again except in passing.

“You should go hang out with your friends.” I managed to say once I calmed down enough.

Her eyes were wide as she pulled back, studying my face.

I forced myself to smile as I ruffled her hair, saying in a falsely cheery tone, “Hey! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ma figure out how to fix all of this, okay?”

She nodded slowly, and I planted a quick peck on her forehead. “Now go! I’ll be fine.”

I waited until her scent had completely aired out before I let the tears fall, quietly sobbing as I realized that this was the end of my life.

For a little while, the only sound was my gasping sobs until I heard footsteps in the distance.

I covered my mouth, quieting myself even father as I listened.

My shadow companion manifested next to me, obviously noticing the steps as well.

I pondered on whether I should leave, I had already gotten myself in enough trouble, and I dreaded to think about the consequences if I was once again caught doing something my father would punish me for.

But something about the saltwater, baked goods, and dark male scent struck something in me. I knew it from somewhere, but for some reason I couldn’t place from where.

I once again looked to my shadows.

There was something we had learned to do. I wasn’t sure if it had never been documented, or if we were the first to be able to do this little trick, but I had never found anything about it.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I could see the world through a dark mist.

My shadows and I could become one in a way, turning me into a shadowy figure that could hide at will.

I could feel the shadows concern for me, and I sighed. “I’ll be fine, don’t be so fussy” I whispered right before I stretched my head around the corner, my breath catching as I saw who stood there.

Azriel.

I watched him, standing there with something like rage on his features as he paced back and forth, his shadows curling around his ear.

I could feel my shadows' curiosity. They loved interacting with shadows from different places, learning the stories they held of other lands.

Sometimes I wondered if they wanted out of this place even more than I did.

As I thought about this I wasn’t watching the Illerian male. And so didn’t notice when he spotted me until he spoke.

“Hello there.”

I practically jumped out of my skin when I heard him speak, preparing to turn and run when one of his shadows reached me, tugging me into full view.

Luckily with my shadows and I being one, I would only look like a stark shadow.

“Who are you?” He asked, not necessarily angry as he approached me, his shadows loosening their grip on my waist.

“Does it matter?” I asked, my voice silkier in this form than normal.

He smirked. “It does if you were spying on me.” He said, and I saw the blue siphons on his armor glow threateningly.

This is normally where I would apologize, play nice until they realized I was no threat.

But he didn’t know who I was, and I was already boiling over with rage.

“If I wanted to spy on you, I wouldn’t have been caught.” I say as I take a step through his shadows, his expression flickered to one of shock for just a millisecond before turning back into stone.

“Then what were you doing here?” He asked, his head tilting as he looked down at me.

I grinned, looking up at him. “Well, I was minding my own business when I heard some footsteps. Really, I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

His lips twitched upwards as he looked down at me. “I’m waiting for someone to come meet me, but now I’m wondering if I should reschedule.”

My heart started to beat faster with the way he stared down at me, his gaze intense. “And why is that?”

He grinned now. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a shadow quite like you.”

I was trying to think of some response that wasn’t just embarrassed babbling when we both heard footsteps coming closer.

Without a moment's hesitation I turned and ran. He called out after me, but I ignored it, knowing better than to stay around and see who was coming.

Eventually when I was closer to home, I let my shadows unwind, taking their own form again.

“Thank you.” I whispered to them, and I could feel their happiness.

Meanwhile, I was once again spiraling, but for none of the same reasons as before.

What had I been thinking, taunting the high lord’s spymaster like that? There were so many bad things that could happen. What if he found out that I wasn’t just some shadow? What if he found out who I was and told my father?

I took a deep calming breath.

He didn’t know who I was, and so there was nothing that he could do to me.

More confident, and something else than my impending doom to think about, I went home.

As I opened the door, my father cheered, “She’s back! My precious daughter who is going to be our salvation.”

My mother was sitting in his lap, and I quickly looked away as I headed for my room.

“Oh, and sweetheart,” My father said, drawing my attention back to him as he continued, “The date is set, in a little over a month you’ll be married!”

He laughed, happy as could be as he nuzzled my mother’s neck.

I felt sick. About how soon I would lose my last scraps of freedom, how even though I could see the well hidden disgust on my mother’s face, she let him touch her, his hands gripping her hips so tight it must be painful.

As I went into my room and closed and locked the door, I couldn’t help but hope I would run into Azriel again, despite the risks.

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