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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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Au Acosf - Chapter 86

(the final chapter - hurrah! It's almost 9000 words. There will be a short epilogue coming too)

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

A fierce ache had taken up residence in Nesta’s body. With the absence of the Mother inside of her, she felt cold and hollow like parts of her had been emptied out. Cassian kissed her forehead gently, not caring if the pair were filthy and all eyes were upon them.

‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘So much. So, so much.’

‘You saved me.’

Cassian shook his head and swept her hair from her face with a warm, but bloodied hand. ‘You saved all of us, Nes.’

From the corner of her eye, Nesta saw Mor and Feyre arrive with others. She recognised Madja, their favoured healer from Velaris, along with more who wore similar uniforms. Rhysand must have summoned them the second it was safe to do so.

Although, she wanted to remain in Cassian’s arms, duty called to him. There were bewildered Illyrians and bodies piling up. Her own army – the one of the dead and the dying – had collapsed the moment she took the Mask away. Piles of bones covered the Steppes. He kept his body covering hers, speaking quickly in Illyrian but gesturing to Nesta occasionally then to the Mask at her feet. There were wary faces, some still stark with terror, others were dropping to their knees again murmuring prayers and crossing their hearts at the sight of her.

Roughly, Cassian snatched a sword from the male closest to him and dashed it to the ground. As pained and fatigued as he was, Cassian’s siphons still managed to flare with red light. His wings sprawled out, shielding Nesta entirely. The meaning was clear enough: dare raise a hand to her and Cassian would cut it off.

‘Go,’ Nesta urged Cassian, nodding her head towards the press of Illyrians currently swarming Mor and Rhys, bombarding them with questions. ‘I’ll be fine.’

No sooner had the words left her tongue, was Nesta engulfed in a fierce embrace. Elain’s body crushed against hers, holding her tightly. The sweet scent of jasmine and honey wafted from Elain’s hair. Her body shook against Nesta’s, so she held her younger sister tightly, glad that she could.

‘Rhys showed us what happened. We came as soon as the spell broke,’ Feyre wrung her hands together. The weight of her gaze was heavy as she examined Nesta, searching for injury, searching for a sign that she had been lost to the power of the Dread Trove.

Nesta released one arm from cradling Elain in invitation. Feyre remained on the spot, as if appraising whether the offer was genuine. It fractured part of Nesta’s heart that Feyre doubted she would want her in their embrace.

At the sound of Elain’s crying, their youngest sister joined them. The three sisters stood immobilised for a while, holding onto each other. It had been a difficult road since their mother had died, but now it seemed there was a light in the distance. None of it had been easy, but it could have been better if they’d seen each other as support; if they had held their hands out for each other to help rather than to rot in lonely misery.

‘You’re alright?’

‘All things considered? I will be,’ Nesta decided. She had come too far to break again. ‘We will be.’

Rhys was calling for order, trying to assign healers to those with the gravest injuries. An Illyrian female with thick scars slashing down her wings was being supported by others, so one healer was sent there to tend to her wounds. Baran was calling out for assistance for Lucien although the male tried to wave it away. Eris’ voice, louder and fraught with fear, called for the healer with more urgency.

Nesta’s heart jolted at the sight of Lucien. His skin was ashen, the lower half of the breeches on his left leg was soaked with blood. A deep gash was bleeding too fast. He’d expulsed his magic defending her and Gwyn long before the others had arrived in support.

Before a healer could go to him, Nesta heard the sound of cloth tearing.

Elain was surging forwards, ripping her skirt at the hem. Blood had always made her squeamish. Even a splinter became an ordeal where Elain would wince and yelp before Nesta had even took the tweezers to it. And yet, she pulsed towards Lucien, her gaze never wavering from the wound in his thigh.

She fell to her knees before him. The scrap of material she’d torn from her lavender gown was being wrapped around his leg as tight as she could pull it. Nesta had never seen Elain so determined. She had never seen her sister so unphased by blood before either. Finally, she had a reason to overcome her fear of it.

‘Why isn’t it healing?’ She asked in anguish.

Nesta wondered what Elain could feel down their bond; whether she could feel Lucien fading and the thought of losing him had spurred her into action.

‘My magic is emptied,’ he grimaced as though every word caused him pain – though there was a flicker of mischief returning to his eyes as he watched his mate tending to him. Nesta wondered if Lucien was berating himself for not being injured sooner.

‘Lucien saved my life,’ Nesta said, adding a dash of bravery to his injury. ‘And Azriel’s. Lucien is the hero here.’

‘The healing house. Quickly,’ the healer declared.

Within heartbeats, Mor held onto them both, ready to winnow back to Velaris, but Elain was standing, pulling an arm around Lucien’s back to support him too. Her brown eyes tracked the pain he fought valiantly to hide, the wince with each breath, the way he screwed his eyes shut with each movement.

‘He will be fine,’ Gwyn said, speaking solely to Eris who seemed suddenly bereft without his brother. ‘The healers are very talented. Lucien will be well.’

The Illyrians who were well enough to fly returned themselves to Iron Crest – carrying females with them if they could. Devlon was being summoned from Windhaven to help instil order along with Illyrian healers to help with all minor wounds. They were superstitious about methods that weren’t Illyrian, apparently.

Cassian said over and over that his injuries were minor and wanted to be last on the priorities. Still, he stood keeping a watch on Azriel. The shadows remained cocooning his body, unwilling to let him go yet – despite the Crown’s demise. Talk of locking him in one of the Hewn City’s dungeons never came. Nesta knew that none would ever do that to him – nor would she ever want it either. Her feelings towards the shadowsinger had not changed; she was able to separate Azriel and not-Azriel into two distinct beings. She hoped he wouldn’t carry the burden of what had happened in his heart just as she hoped others would do the same with her, that they’d understand that when she had placed that Mask upon her face, it was to save rather than to damn.

Amongst the chaos of organising the Illyrians and trying to decide what sort of burial should occur to the army of the dead, Nesta had forgotten that Tamlin and Fionn remained a distance away. The general beckoned her over, his blonde hair darkened by sweat.

‘You’ll come to Spring soon?’

‘You want me there?’ Nesta had to ensure that now they had seen her wear that Mask, kill without restraint, that they still wanted to be near her. That she wasn’t to be feared.

‘It would be our pleasure,’ replied Tamlin.

Fionn nodded. ‘Yes. And besides, it’s difficult to find someone to watch the children and you’re great with them.’

‘Oh, so you only want me for my child caring abilities?’

Fionn knocked his elbow into hers, both of them laughing slightly. It would be a joy for Nesta to visit the Spring Court again to see how much Eimear had grown since she last saw the baby and to be chased with frogs by little Nuala. Spring would forever take up space in her heart.

She cleared her throat, cataloguing the injuries carried by the two males. ‘I cannot begin to thank you for coming here. There are no words.’

The rest became lodged in her throat. The events of the morning were beginning to catch up to her and Nesta suppressed her sob.

‘It’s how I feel about all you did for our court. For me. Thank you.’ Tamlin stooped down to place a hesitant kiss on her cheek then Fionn did the same. ‘We’ll take our leave. You can thank Eris for summoning us.’

Fionn chuckled. ‘He’d like to be my namesake one day, I’m sure of it.’

‘Eris Vanserra as high king?’ Tamlin shuddered. ‘I’d prefer Lucien Vans- Spell-Cleaver.’

The two males gave Nesta a further goodbye before winnowing out of sight.

Nesta sought out the High Lady of the Night Court to use her power for her own benefit, for once. ‘Can you take us to the House of Wind?’

The handful of freckles splattered across the bridge of Feyre’s nose stood darker on her pale face. She gave Nesta another sweep with her eyes, mystified how she has escaped with only soot blemishing her skin. Her body had been healed by the power that had swollen inside of her. The deep cuts in her palms that should have shredded tendons had healed entirely without any whisper they had ever happened.

Nesta jerked her chin towards Gwyn. The priestess had been brave for long enough. She had anchored herself to Eris and Adja, using the smokehound as a crutch to navigate this new, frightening world. For her courage to leave the library, for giving Lucien’s story credibility despite how scared she must have been, Nesta would forever be indebted to her.

‘We can return home,’ Nesta said, stroking her hair. Gwyn nodded, her relief easing out with a long exhale.

‘If you wanted, one day, you could visit the Autumn Court with Nesta,’ said Eris. ‘A visit to your paternal lands.’

Gwyn gave a non-committal shrug and stepped closer to Nesta, but her eyes had brightened at the prospect of exploring the world.

‘Eris also has about thirty dogs like Adja to play with if you want better company.’

‘Not thirty.’

‘Not yet.’

Eris laughed, the noise so warm and welcoming, that when he opened his arms, Nesta was happy to sink into them. The pair of them stunk of smoke and sweat, but Nesta did not care. In desperation, she had taken a chance on Eris Vanserra – a snake with no backbone – and it had turned out to be one of the best decisions in her life. Eris had helped to bring her back from the brink with his teasing, his jostling, and his subtle care. He had become a friend, an ally. The Autumn Court was in safe hands with him as its high lord.

‘You will update me on Lucien?’ He murmured against her hair, still holding her tightly.

‘Of course. Perhaps he’d like Elain to tarry a while and tend to his injuries without his brother overseeing.’

‘He’s probably devastated it’s not on his stomach so he can have a reason to be shirtless around her. Still, he can strip off his trousers.’

‘Careful, that’s my little sister.’

‘And my little brother.’

From across the Steppes, Nesta could feel Mor’s eyes burning into them, monitoring their entire friendly exchange. There was no future for them – but a conversation still needed to occur. Maybe one day, both Mor and Eris could find closure.

‘You need to teach me that little winnowing skill,’ said Rhysand, appearing beside them, making Gwyn jump. ‘How can you winnow an object?’

‘Autumn Court secret,’ Eris winked. ‘Can’t give away all of our tricks. I’ll teach Gwyn though – us Autumn blooded must stick together.’

‘How did you summon Tamlin so quickly?’

Eris straightened up. He’d removed his armour and it was neatly piled to the side. ‘Lucien shared his doubts and I trusted my brother’s judgement. If he were to winnow me this ring,’ he said, holding out the one Nesta had slipped from Lucien’s finger for him, ‘it was a distress signal. I happened to be meeting Tamlin on the Spring border. You chose an excellent time to be kidnapped, Nesta.’

Nesta stepped away from the arm slung around her shoulders. ‘Take care, Eris. Thank you for coming. Both of you.’ Baran dipped his chin in answer.

‘What will you do with the shadowsinger?’ At Rhys’ lack of response, Eris continued. ‘I saw him in my woods many times perhaps for Briallyn or her deal with my father. If you could find out, I’d be grateful to know.’

Unable to go yet, Eris pulled Nesta into another embrace. She let her cheek rest upon his shoulder. ‘Stay out of trouble for a while, won’t you? And remember my offer. I’d still like to walk you down the aisle, but if you have a long-dead soldier from a bog who you’d prefer, I suppose I’ll allow it.’

The relief that he still could tease her, that Eris did not fear her, was a rich wave of warmth that spread from her chest through her whole body. Eris had never been afraid of her power. He’d never tried to control it or quench it. He had only ever wanted Nesta to be in control of it. Even seeing her wear the Mask to raise an army and kill an immortal hadn’t altered his view of her.

‘You’d have to wear black.’

Eris winced. ‘Disgusting. Washes out my colour.’

Feyre took Nesta and Gwyn by the hand once the Autumn Court delegate had departed. Rhys had spoken to Eris in private before the latter had winnowed back to the Forest House.

The familiar sight of red stone walls met them. The sconces along the wall flickered upon their arrival as if the house had come alive once it heard the beating of their hearts.

‘I need to go back to Illyria. Will you be-’

‘We can settle ourselves. Please make sure Cassian is seen by a healer. Use your power of high lady if you must.’

They waited until Feyre’s footsteps had faded down the corridor then Gwyn gave a shaky breath. She had spent her life in the confines of a temple then the sanctuary of the library. In her first hours out of it, Lucien had coaxed her to the Illyrian Steppes where she’d witnessed the death of a mortal queen, the demise of an immortal, and saw the Mother take up residence in Nesta’s body as she carved her way through an army – not to mention the numerous new faces she’d been introduced to. All things considered, Gwyn was coping very well.

The priestess’ robes were darkened with soot and a pungent smell of smoke likely rose from both of their garments. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. ‘I should be worried about Azriel – and I am – but I’m exhausted. It’s not even noon and I feel I could sleep until the morning.’

Nesta agreed with that. Her body was flagging more and more. Staying upright was becoming a struggle – something she had to focus on. ‘Would you like to me to walk you back to your rooms?’

The weariness from seeing such terror and being exposed to a life away from the library was etched onto Gwyn’s face. The thought of traipsing down lofty stairwells and through the hushed shelves with curious acolytes watching seemed to drain Gwyn of the last traces of colour.

‘Would you like to rest a while here? There are spare clothes. Baths. Food. It’s only us here.’

When they entered a bedroom, a night gown had already been laid out on the bed for them and Nesta was aware of the faucet turning then the splash of water against the bottom of the basin. In the room opposite, it was the same. She left Gwyn to wash alone while she went to her bath. For once, Nesta did not fear the bath – she welcomed settling into the hot water, thankful for the heat and comfort it brought to her aching body. Although she had no wounds to speak of, her body still groaned with pleasure as she sank up to her chin.

Nesta managed to summon her strength to walk the few paces across the corridor and drum her knuckles on Gwyneth’s door. The priestess opened it with heavy-lidded eyes and ushered Nesta to the bed. She was sure it had somehow grown larger in size to accommodate them both comfortably, and the house seemed to rumble with pride when Nesta noticed.

It was not at all late in the day. Nesta had many, many things to think about, to worry her and trouble her. But when she settled beside the priestess on the soft mattress, both in fresh nightgowns, their hair damp, her panicking was subdued. A gentle breeze caressed them from the narrow opening of the window. The house seemed to tug one curtain closed to prevent less light spilling in. A sunny day had seized Velaris after such horror. From the heavy breathing of the female whose forehead was inches from her own, Nesta surmised Gwyn had already slipped into sleep. It did not take long for exhaustion to take Nesta either.

***

There would be a time to rest soon, but Illyria needed Cassian. They accepted him more than Mor or even Rhys despite his status.

Only a handful of his people had not yet been returned to Iron Crest. The ones who had died both on the Steppes and in the War Camp would receive a burial by their families. Others were gathered by their tents, healers seeing to injuries, widows had begun cooking over firepits with large, iron pots. Meals were a big part of Illyrian culture; it gave way to healing, to conversation, to gathering together and being one.

It was difficult to see the anguish sweeping across the dull camp. Even the sun breaking through the clouds and bathing them in golden light did nothing to banish the grief settling in. Karius and his son, Kallon, were both deceased. Cassian didn’t know who had killed them, only that their bodies were amongst the piles of the dead. Briallyn and Koschei had swept into Iron Crest – a place that was unsteady and insecure – to seize it for their own. The thought rattled Cassian. The Autumn Court soldiers taken had been a tragedy but not one that he lost sleep over. This was different. This was more personal. They were his people bleeding and weeping for their fallen. His people whose lives had been upturned.

Iron Crest would need a steady hand and constant support, but it meant that there could be a time for change. Hope blossomed in Cassian’s chest like petals unfurling. With the camp lord and his son dead, there was no heir to Iron Crest. A new male would need to be named and perhaps it rang in a dawning of change.

He met Sohail on the fringes of the camp. The male’s wounds had been cleaned either by a healer or his mother. The female was with him, bowing her head slightly at Cassian’s approach but her shrewd eyes had already landed on his weapons, on his limp, the way his hand covered his stomach. The scars slashing through her wings were some of the worst that Cassian had ever seen. They did not solely cut through tendons to suspend flight but through the membrane too from where she had put up a hell of a fight against whichever males had done it to her. There was an unbreakable spirit there that she had likely passed onto her son. When the young male had said that Cassian would not abandon his mother either, Cassian knew then that he was a male worthy of following. He had been glad to fight alongside him that morning.

‘Change is afoot.’

Sohail swallowed. ‘Was it a spell?’

‘Sort of. But it’s over now. Do you have other family here?’

‘Only us.’ The male shifted his body slightly to obscure his mother with his wing.

Cassian nodded. A life not too dissimilar to his own. He hadn’t had a mother, but he’d had Rhysand’s mother who’d treated him as her own.

‘Take care of yourselves. And well done for trusting your instincts.’

Many Illyrians had died that morning, some on the end of his own blade. Others had died when Nesta had placed that Mask on her face. It still did not feel real. Cassian felt as if he’d viewed it through someone else’s eyes. Only the fact that his palm pulsed with pain and his body was heavy as he walked through the camp let him know that it had happened. There would be no repercussions to Nesta. Cassian had ensured that with the feral warning he’d given to his people – Rhys included. If anybody dared put a finger on her, Cassian would chop their hands off. Even now, he wanted to return to Nesta, but she had prioritised his country over her well-being and ushered him back to duty.

Cassian took his time speaking to his people. Listening to their stories of how the Crown had managed to ensnare them all with its trap. It had been a steady-growing web, luring more and more into its thrall. From the sounds of things, Kallon or his father had been one of the first. Perhaps they had been willing, perhaps not. Maybe Azriel, with his unsettled heart, had fallen easily under the Crown’s power. Illyria had been taken advantage of either way. Its people used as pawns for Briallyn’s and Koschei’s games. None of them had memories from the last few weeks. They had lived to serve the Crown and that alone.

‘What the hell are you still doing here?’ Rhys strode forwards, face thunderous. His wings were out, tremoring with each step. ‘You haven’t even seen a healer yet.’

‘I’m alright.’

‘Don’t give me that shit. A strong wind will knock you down. Go to Velaris.’ When Cassian began to argue, Rhys held up a hand. ‘I thought you’d want to be with Nesta. Let’s go back. Madja will try to wake Azriel.’

The shadowsinger had been taken by Madja to the House of Wind where he’d remain unconscious until they knew what to do. Rhys’ words had their desired effect either way. Even if Nesta would wave away his concern, Azriel needed them now too. He’d bear the weight of the Crown heavier than any. The moment Azriel had said he suspected Lucien but had still let him near Nesta, was the moment that Cassian should have realised that it wasn’t his brother. Azriel would never put Nesta in danger. Wouldn’t ever have run the risk of it. Cassian shook his head. They had all failed Azriel by not realising that he wasn’t himself.

‘I’ve summoned Helion to decide what to do with that Mask. He might want to see Lucien too.’

When they returned to the House of Wind, the male was already there listening to Mor and Feyre explain what happened, his eyes agog. Helion had an ankle crossed over his knee, with the Day Court tunic revealing more flesh than Cassian wanted to see. At their arrival, Helion turned. ‘So, Nesta Archeron is a goddess. I’ve always known it.’

Rhys’ face bleached of colour. ‘We don’t know for certain.’

‘Come now, Rhysand. How else would Nesta be able to summon the Mask through wards without ancient blood magic? The Cauldron was the Mother’s long before it passed hands throughout Prythian. The Mother herself created this land and all the life within.’

‘The Dread Trove belongs to the Mother?’

Helion gave a shrug and tipped back against the couch. ‘Everything was created by the Mother’s hand. She exists at creation and destruction. The beginning and the end.’

‘Nesta let a goddess inhabit her body?’

Rhys scrubbed his face with his hands and sat on the arm of the chair. Feyre’s hand moved to caress his back. He replied to Mor, ‘Against an immortal death god, the Mother likely seemed the best choice of attack. What the fuck did she steal from the Cauldron that day?’

‘We thought the Cauldron favoured Elain,’ Mor groaned, ‘and disliked Nesta for what it took. Now it seems, the Mother favours Nesta. My goodness. Remind me never to get on their bad sides.’

‘Our lives haven’t known peace since the Archerons passed over the Wall,’ Helion winked.

There was a cough from the doorway and Madja was peering at them. ‘I’m ready to wake him.’

Helion accompanied them in case his abilities were needed to wake Azriel. Cassian couldn’t help but think his brother would hate waking up to six of them staring at him with wide eyes – especially in his own bedroom. The healer had cleaned his wounds. He was bare from the waist upwards and the inch-deep cut between his shoulder and collar bone was still meshing together, Madja’s magic working to knit the skin. There were shining burns on his body, but the healer assured them they would be gone within a few hours. It appeared that the group on the Steppes had done their best not to harm Azriel at least.

Madja’s magic slithered through the shadows in a shimmer of bronze. One by one, the shadows receded, slipping away from view. It took a handful of minutes for Azriel’s lashes to flutter open. He woke with a bunched brow.

‘Nesta.’

‘Fine. She’s fine.’

His brother’s hazel eyes met his own. It was unusual for Azriel to be so lost for words, but he broke away from their gaze, eyes flickering down to his lap. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No,’ Rhys cut in sharply. ‘You were under the Crown’s power. It was not you, Az.’

‘I don’t know if I’m safe,’ he admitted. ‘Take me to the Hewn-’

‘If you suggest locking yourself in a dungeon, I will throw you off the roof,’ Cassian warned. He would never condemn his brother to a cell.

It was a busy afternoon. Mor and Rhys hurried back to Iron Crest, refusing to listen to Cassian’s insistence that he could help. Feyre darted to Windhaven to bring Zasha then remained at the House of Wind with him while Helion sat at a table in the private library staring the Mask as if he might be able to figure out a way to remove it purely by looking at it. If Nesta could summon it under the Mother’s instruction, there were no wards in the entire world that would stop it. They had to hope that their lives would be peaceful and there would never be a need for it again - although Briallyn was not the only mortal queen who had crossed their path.

The female herself was fast asleep still, curled on her side with an arm around the priestess who slumbered too when Cassian peeked into the bedroom. Shadows were tucked around the copper-haired female, content to be beside her. That was another story to tell. Feyre and he had whispered in the doorway, wondering who she was to Az.

Azriel preferred to be in his room. Madja said it would be good for him to rest though Cassian knew his brother was ashamed and wallowing in heartbreak that he’d succumbed to the Crown’s influence. For once, he didn’t try to push through injuries and support in Illyria. They gave him privacy although Cassian took frequent walks past his door, hoping that the sound of his footsteps might coax Azriel to join them. It didn’t work.

While he and Feyre tried to cook something between them, a tired Mor returned with Elain and Lucien. The male used crutches to support his weight as he crossed the room, but Elain remained attentive to his needs; her hand frequently flitted to his arm or his back to steady him.

‘Rhys will be back soon then we can all eat together,’ Mor suggested. ‘Where’s Az?’

‘Still in his room.’

Mor pursed her lips but remained in the lounge. The females helped Lucien into the chair then Elain ensured his leg was elevated with a pouffe.

‘It was cut as deep as the bone,’ she said, reaching for a blanket to tuck around him. ‘The healer said he’s lucky he didn’t bleed out.’

Nobody dared disturb the moment of Elain not-recoiling from Lucien. Though the male was pale and drawn still, each time Elain turned her face from his, Cassian caught the content smile spreading over his face. Lucien was thoroughly enjoying being tended to by his mate.

‘Hello Lucien.’

Helion had departed from the modest private library and braced himself in the doorway of the lounge. His eyes snagged on the bandage wrapping around his son’s leg. He took a step forwards.

A fist kneaded Cassian’s back. Mor was shoving him and Feyre towards the kitchen, forcing them out of the room. No, Cassian supposed, this was not a conversation that required an audience.

Feyre turned back to the stove where they had successfully burnt every dish while greeting Lucien and Elain. ‘We need Nuala and Cerridwen.’

Summoned by their name, the wraiths appeared and began scraping the charred food from pans and starting anew.

‘Stop listening,’ Mor hissed, and swiped at Cassian’s arm.

He hadn’t been particularly eavesdropping, but he had stood as close as he could to the door just in case any words travelled to him. He did not envy either male for the conversation about to unfold – or Elain who seemed resolute in her decision to stay by Lucien’s side while he was injured.

‘Anybody else have any secrets they’d like to share?’ Feyre joked as she hoisted herself up onto the kitchen side. She rummaged on the highest shelves for something to drink.

Cassian risked a glance to Mor. There was too much written on his face, too much for Mor to read. He hadn’t managed to mask his guilt quick enough. Her own face drained of colour. Yes, he knew she had a mate. Yes, he knew exactly who it was. Mor shook her head slightly, brown eyes welling with tears, begging him not to reveal the secret she’d fought to bury for five centuries. Because he loved her, she could keep the secret – but he wished Mor knew that they loved her no matter what. And part of him wished she understood that Eris had worn his own masks, played his own games, and being his mate was nothing shameful – nor anything Mor could influence. One day, they’d have that conversation.

‘Yes,’ Cassian announced. ‘Rhys keeps his best wine in the library below with Clotho guarding it.’

The brief reprise while Feyre went on a hunt for wine allowed Mor the chance to recover – though she made an excuse to depart from the kitchen. Being privy to Lucien and Helion’s awkward exchange seemed preferable to facing Cassian and speaking about mates.

Lucien spoke cordially to Helion. The latter was sat on the edge of the pouffe, beside his son’s foot, asking general questions about his life in the mortal lands. They had three hundred years of history to catch up on. It wasn’t as hesitant or awkward as Cassian expected; Lucien could make friends wherever he went – and Helion could charm anybody. It was likely a paternal trait.

Elain sat close to Lucien, but not quite touching. However, the female did find reasons to interact with him – to fluff the pillow behind his back, to pass him his drink, to adjust the blanket over his lap.

Once Rhys returned, they gathered in the lounge. Illyria would be fine for a couple of hours, he reassured them.

It had been a strange, drawn-out day. Through Rhys and Feyre’s daemati powers, Lucien turned over his memories that showed Azriel’s slight differences – the ones they had all unfortunately missed – and how he began to suspect the shadow singer. One was of Eris stood in a balcony at the Forest House, peering out towards the trees, stating that he’d found Azriel again in his woods. There had been no order for him to be there and if their courts were not so distrustful of the other then maybe it could have been realised sooner. Another showed Eris in a moment of fury brandishing a bare arm to Lucien, demanding he return to the Night Court and persuade Nesta to make a new deal with him for her protection. The moment Lucien had discovered that Azriel had Nesta in his care, he had acted swiftly, deciding to beg the priestess to come with him rather than forcing the others to listen to his accusation.

‘I won’t comment on who I think she is or what she is to Azriel,’ Lucien said as he crossed towards the table on his crutches, ‘but when Nesta discovered that Azriel wasn’t speaking to Gwyn, she was irate. I’d never seen her speak to gruffly to him, so I surmised she is important to Azriel. I pieced everything together. There was no time to try to persuade everybody here.’

Lucien had done what he believed to be right – and in truth, Cassian likely would have struggled to believe his story. In a subdued silence, they remained at the table. Cassian would never be able to thank Lucien for the risk he took and the protection he gave to Nesta. The priestess too, for leaving her sanctuary and following the shadows to Azriel. There were no words to convey his gratitude that his mate was still here, still safe, thanks to Lucien’s quick thinking.

‘You saved my sister,’ Elain said in awe. Her eyes had been opened today, as if she was seeing Lucien and his goodness for the first time.

‘What do we do with the Mask, Helion?’

The high lord of the Day Court tore his gaze away from his son and pondered the question. ‘If Nesta allows the Mother to inhabit her whenever the goddess sees fit, it doesn’t seem to matter what we do with that Mask – or the Harp. Nesta will always be able to summon it.’ Helion brushed a hand through his dark hair. ‘For now, perhaps the Prison. Separate the two items, Rhysand, I hate to think of them convening with each other.’

‘Let’s hope none of us need divine intervention again,’ Elain said briskly.

When the wraiths had finished cooking, delicious aromas filled the corridors, drawing Nesta from her sleep. Her arrival was announced with a bang of the door against the wall.

‘That is the most annoying dog in history,’ Nesta declared. Her hair was askew, lines creased her face where she’d slept. She didn’t seem to care that she wore a nightgown either. ‘He takes up the whole bed and snores in your ear.’

‘Sounds like Cass,’ Rhys winked.

‘How often have you shared the bed with him?’ Feyre teased.

‘Will you two handsome males indulge me in stories of nights you’ve spent warming each other’s bodies?’

At Helion’s words, Lucien choked on a mouthful of wine. Despite a lack of blood, his cheeks still managed to heat. It wasn’t just three hundred years of Lucien’s life that needed to be catalogued, but Helion’s too.

‘This is Gwyn,’ Nesta explained as the shy priestess peered around the doorway. Zasha was at her side, trying to snap at the shadows that were teasing him. One spiralled around Gwyn’s body then swooped over Zasha’s head.

‘I’m in my nightie,’ she whispered to Nesta.

‘As am I. It’s of no consequence. You need to eat, Gwyneth. We’ve slept the day away.’ Nesta held out a hand for Gwyn which she reluctantly took. Lucien nodded his head in their direction and the priestess smiled softly to him.

Nesta positioned the acolyte between Lucien and herself, stopping to kiss Cassian’s forehead on the way to the vacant chairs.

A sheet of copper hair fell past her shoulders. She used it to try and hide part of her freckled face. Perhaps noticing the silence or the way everybody had turned to examine Gwyn, Nesta snapped, ‘Will you stop staring at her?’

The irritation laced her tone and Mor braced her hands on the arms of the chair. Even Feyre had taken a sharp inhale. Nesta only glanced around the table.

‘You are all acting as if I am about to smite you.’

‘It’s a possibility now,’ muttered Mor.

Nesta stretched her neck from side to side, easing out the ache from her nap. ‘Then do your best to stay on my good side.’

A long silence was drawn out around the table. Cassian was surprised to see the priestess suppressing a smile.

Rhys clapped his hands together. ‘Well, Nesta. If I wasn’t scared of you before, I’m fucking terrified now.’

Finally, laughter rang out across the table. It was as if the room sighed in relief too, the tension bleeding away. They began helping themselves to the array of dishes laid out on the table and Rhys personally poured wine for all gathered.

‘Where is Azriel?’

‘In his room. He’s quite downcast.’

Nesta narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t leave him alone.’

‘He wants to be alone,’ Cassian clarified.

‘I don’t care what he wants. I wanted to be left alone – and I was for months at my lowest. Just because you want it, it doesn’t mean you need it or that it’s good for you.’

Nesta’s chair clattered as it fell forwards into the table. She strode like a queen past them all, making a beeline for Azriel’s room down the corridor.

***

Nesta rapped her knuckles hard on the wooden door. She counted to five before repeating her action. Azriel liked privacy. But at this moment, he needed his family and needed to know that he was loved.

The door wasn’t locked. Nesta swung it open, revealing the shadowsinger sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He didn’t turn at her approach, didn’t so much as respond. He likely had tracked all of the noise right from the dining room – he never missed anything.

Nesta took a seat beside him on the bed. Her arm brushed against his.

After the war, she had wanted to be alone. Or at least, she thought she wanted that. She did at first. Then she craved company. Craved someone to love her and protect her, but she was too proud and scared to ask for help. So Nesta had drowned in loneliness and heartbreak until she felt nothing at all. Every night became a challenge of how much she could drink to block out her thoughts, of how many males she could take to her bed and not feel disgusted about how little she cared for herself. Being alone solved nothing. It had made everything worse.

Azriel had not let her be alone. Azriel had found her staggering on the streets of Velaris then taken her to his mother’s house. He had trusted Nesta with the most important female in his life, because he had seen how broken she was.

Her arms slipped around his body, drawing him closer to her.

‘I’m so sorry this happened to you. Nobody is blaming you.’

Azriel remained stiff. ‘I could have killed you.’

‘And I could have died months ago in Velaris without your intervention.’

Nesta lifted his head, forcing the shadowsinger to look at her. There was such hopeless despair rooted in his hazel eyes. Azriel showed his love in deeds, by showing to his family that he was useful. Nesta made him look at her still.

‘The Crown made you do those things, Azriel. It was you who saved me and took me to your mother. You who saved Gwyn in Sangravah. You who rescued Elain from Hybern’s camp. You who have saved so many others.’

‘I don’t remember anything,’ he said, voice fragile. ‘I don’t remember weeks and weeks.’

‘You were fighting to get out,’ she said, still holding on him. ‘You fought against yourself so that you wouldn’t hurt me. Azriel, there is nothing to forgive. It was not you. Please, come and eat with us. Don’t be alone here. No good can come of it.’

The male shook his dark hair and relinquished his hands from her grip.

‘I left the library for you, shadowsinger.’ Gwyn stood in his doorway. Shadows skittered from her towards Azriel with excitement. They were not things he could control, Nesta realised, but creatures whose moods could be read. One shadow ruffled through Azriel’s hair, desperate to be close to him again. ‘The least you could do is eat dinner with us.’

Azriel barely breathed as he gazed upon the pretty priestess stood in the House of Wind. Her nightgown went to her ankles and the sleeves were full. Her copper hair was unbound and shining, her freckles like constellations in a night sky illuminating her large, teal eyes.

Nesta placed a hand on Azriel’s chest. ‘Just so you know, Gwyn loves me more. She stabbed you to save me.’

The priestess blushed. ‘It was only once and not too deep.’

Azriel touched the wound on his shoulder where Truth-Teller had sunk into his skin. ‘Who taught you to use a weapon, Berdara?’

‘Nobody taught me – it’s why you’re still alive.’

Azriel chuckled. The sound of it made Nesta breathe a sigh of relief. His shadows were content to lounge on his shoulder, watching the exchange between the pair of them.

‘Come and eat. Or will you really leave Gwyn to face your family alone? Helion is also here. What did he call you, Gwyn? An absolute delight?’

The shadowsinger shot to his feet suddenly at the mention of Helion. The threat of Helion’s charm worked just as Nesta expected it to.

Nesta departed the bedroom to give them a brief moment of privacy. As she passed, she heard Azriel’s murmur asking if Gwyn was hurt, if he had hurt her. Something swelled in her chest when she saw the joy blooming on both Azriel and Gwyneth’s faces.

For a few days, they remained at the House of Wind. Illyria was in a state of flux that required all hands-on-deck. Nesta was content to lounge around the private library when she was alone or sometimes, she would meet Gwyn in the larger one downstairs just to chat. The priestess had become a friend quickly. Nearly dying together against a mindless army had a way of bonding them.

Cassian was busy in Iron Crest along with the others. He often took Zasha with him just to give the smokehound a run around on the hills rather than being cooped up on the roof.

Azriel was healing. There were wounds that none could see, but he tried not to default to privacy. Most evenings, he’d descend to the library to talk to Gwyn – sometimes the three of them would sit together in an alcove whispering. Cassian had assured Azriel that he trusted him near Nesta so he had taken Nesta to visit his mother for the dinner they had promised Rovena. With word travelling quickly, she had probed them both on what had happened on the Steppes. They kept his submission to the Crown from their stories, not wanting to horrify Rovena. Small steps would help the male realise that none blamed him, and he hadn’t changed in their view.

Lucien remained recovering at the river house. Daily, he took a walk in Velaris on crutches with Elain escorting him. Soon, he’d be able to bear weight on the leg again, and Nesta had little doubt that her sister would be with Lucien every step of the way.

A wing was curled around Nesta in bed so she trailed a finger slowly along the bone running through it until Cassian flickered open his eyes.

‘You alright?’

She smoothed a thumb down his cheek. ‘We never went to the hot springs.’

He let out a sleepy chuckle and kissed her neck. His body was delightfully warm and inviting as his arm slunk around her waist. ‘There were other things happening last week, Nes.’

It was still dark outside, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Hues of violet and green were bleeding into the sky as if ink was being washed away from a canvas.

‘Can we go?’

Cassian seemed to realise that Nesta was not in a sleeping mood, so shifted himself onto his side, yawning. ‘Where? The Springs? Now?’

Nesta kissed his forehead, savouring the touch of his skin. ‘We’ve hardly had a minute alone.’

They had both been busy – Cassian more so, with trying to smooth the shaky ground of Iron Crest. Thankfully, others had understood that Briallyn had controlled an entire camp, but the country still felt the wound of losing so many. Relinquishing undeserved siphons seemed to be a big hurdle too. Change always brought about unexpected challenges.

Helion made frequent appearances to speak with Lucien – the male was determined to forge a bond with his son. Lucien had been inundated with lavish gifts and offers of visiting the Day Court, so Nesta had the feeling he would play on his injury a little longer to delay the oncoming change in his own life.

When Helion allowed Lucien out of his sight, he’d quiz Nesta on how it had been to wear the Mask. It seemed that she was the only person who had worn it twice – and lived to tell the tale. The high lord had left no stone unturned, bombarding her with questions that he diligently recorded in a ledger for his vast library. When it came to describing how it felt to be a vessel for the Mother, Nesta’s words came sparsely. It had been an overwhelming feeling of goodness, of being loved and treasured. The Mask had felt possessive, wanting Nesta for its own, but the Mother had cherished her like it did all things she had created.

‘And she gave you a choice?’

‘Yes,’ Nesta said, furrowing her brow. ‘I wanted to continue with the Mask to… to peace and eternity, but Cassian’s voice halted me. She let me choose whether to remain on my path or to return to him.’

The male smiled fondly, recording it all. Perhaps Helion was the most dangerous of all high lords, not for his charm or power, but for the knowledge he amassed.

‘A lucky male.’

‘I’m the lucky one,’ Nesta had countered.

Cassian was gone most days, coming back late and others would always join them for dinner. Sometimes he brought Emerie with him or Balthazar as well. Other times just Feyre and Rhys would make an appearance. Once, Gwyn bolstered her courage and joined the four of them for a quiet dinner where she was mobbed by Zasha and shadows. If Azriel didn’t eat with them then it meant he was still in the library with her.

By the time Nesta and Cassian slipped into bed most nights, they were too exhausted to speak let alone touch each other.

Nesta did not think Cassian would ever deny her anything. A soft smile or a delicate caress and he’d change the world for her. Despite his eyes still being heavy and the sheets warm and welcoming, Cassian tossed back the covers then swung his legs onto the floor.

‘You’ll run the risk of being spotted naked in the day light,’ he warned.

‘I have a big bat to shield me,’ she murmured, kissing him.

Cassian leapt off the roof, clinging to Nesta tightly as her stomach dropped from the plummet, then his wings spread out and they soared towards Illyria. It was still something magnificent to behold how Cassian was able to fly without a map as if Illyria always beckoned him home. Nesta was itching to be back in their cabin too. She missed being able to walk to the village and see the children or to languish in Emerie’s store together. Velaris was fine. Fine for a day or two. There were too many people, too much noise and bustle. Nesta missed the call of the mountains, the wind that rattled through them. She missed the narrow streams that weaved through the bracken-covered hills.

The gathering light filtered across the springs. They were nothing like Nesta expected. She imagined something similar to the Day Court oasis; a sole pool shrouded by stone or sand. They had flown to the northern-most coast of Illyria where shelves were cut into the white stone mountain. Brilliant blue pools gathered on different levels with steam rising from each. It almost looked frozen, the white stone was so pure. Nesta’s breath caught in her chest when Cassian set her down.

‘It’s beautiful.’

Cassian smiled sheepishly. ‘The camp I was born in is a stone’s throw from here.’

‘You’re a northern boy.’

‘They say Illyrians from the north have the hardest armour and the warmest hearts – because it gets so cold in winter.’

Nesta agreed with that statement. She settled their bag down on a dry edge, still utterly struck by the beauty of the springs. She tugged the hem of Cassian’s shirt. ‘You go first to check it’s safe. And because you have no qualms about getting naked in public.’

Cassian shucked off his boots first then his shirt on top in a rough pile. ‘By the time I was a century old, I think everybody in Velaris had seen me naked. We did a lot of stupid dares when we were younger.’

‘And you flashed people?’

‘No!’ He protested, offended by the accusation. ‘Just had to fly to Illyria and back in the nude.’

‘Well, that’s far more reasonable.’

Only a pale scar remained on his stomach from the injury received in Iron Crest. His palms still had deep-set scars too, but healers said in a few weeks the injuries would be gone. Nesta knew it was the truth; half of his innards had been spilling out from battle before but there was no mark upon his body now.

Appreciatively, she watched as his strong body sunk into the water. Standing, the water level was slightly higher than his naval. Cassian’s wings stretched out and he let out a low groan of satisfaction with the movement.

The sun was rising, casting the steaming water in golden light as if it were aflame. It was a good decision to come here today – to be with Cassian to watch a sunrise.

‘You coming in?’

‘A moment,’ she asked.

Her hands had begun to tremble as she unbuckled their bag. Yesterday had been spent preparing for today. It was why she had barely slept a moment.

She laid out two towels for when they had finished in the water then slowly removed her clothes. To keep her hands busy, Nesta folded them neatly then did the same to Cassian’s heap.

‘Nes, you alright?’

The beat of her heart shook her whole body. Nesta slipped into the water, ensuring the carefully wrapped package in her hand didn’t receive a soaking. It had been a combination of trial and error during times when she was home alone. Rovena’s advice had saved her; she’d practised them in the kitchen with her on the night Azriel had taken her there for dinner. Azriel hadn’t said anything about it, but she knew he had an inkling of Nesta’s plan.

Nesta presented Cassian with a package.

‘What’s this?’

‘Open it.’

Beneath the paper was a number of pastries formed into triangular shapes. The pastry was flaky – and the hardest bit to master. It needed to be worked quickly and kneaded until it was paper-thin. Much of it had been thrown in the bin in anger. Some of the pastries contained simple combinations of spinach and creamed cheese. Others had seasoned lamb and potatoes. It was an Illyrian staple with no real recipe; a food all females were taught to make by their mothers or grandmothers.

‘Who made these? Rovena?’

Nesta shook her head. ‘I made them. For you.’ She took a long, steadying breath. Cassian was cradling the food in his hands like it was a baby. ‘I want to be your wife, but I also want to be your mate. Officially.’

‘My mate,’ he whispered.

‘We could combine a wedding with a mating ceremony. My tradition and yours tied together.’

Nesta held her breath as Cassian took a bite of the first. Although it was the symbolic act of presenting food that was most important, she still hoped they at least were edible. His face broke into a wide grin then he devoured one then another.

‘Best breakfast I’ve ever had,’ he declared, reaching for another.

They stood together in the water as the sun continued to rise further into the sky. In the distance was the remnants of a previous camp. Nesta traced the tattoos carved into Cassian’s skin, golden-brown in the morning sun. For a little, unwanted boy who came from that camp, he had achieved incredible things, lived a life one could only dream of. And the next chapter was beginning. Nesta would be by his side through it all.

‘Do you want a forever with me?’

Cassian kissed her slowly. It was a kiss that unravelled Nesta, so full of love and desire. She would never doubt his heart.

‘Nes, I don’t think forever will even be enough time with you.’

#au acosf #i'm so stressed that it's not good #and i havent covered enough #but then it will spill over to another 50 chapters #so i think i just gotta say goodbye and hope that i covered my bases here!!#hope you enjoy

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nestaapologist · 2 years

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Cool but did your fav meet god?

#why are people skipping cover the fact that Nesta met THE MOTHER #THE MOTHER #acosf #nesta archeron #nessian

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starrbirrd · 2 years

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okay but a nesta x reader where she chooses the human realm over being imprisoned and she somehow ends up at your home and she heals slowly but surely without being forced on a suicidal hike or being told no one loves her and you dance together to imaginary music and bake her favorite bread and-

#she doesn't need to marry royalty to be treated like a princess #she just gets to read her dirty romance novels in peace while you lay your head in her lap under the huge oak tree in your yard #the IC try to find her but unbeknownst to you(or she thinks you don't know) she's covered your home in wards #yeah only one half of you gets to grow old together but GROW is the part we're focusing on #nesta teaching the children in the village #you making sure she always comes home to fresh flowers #the bar for treating this woman with what she deserves is on the floor y'all #acosf #acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #nesta archeron #anti rhysand #pro nesta Archeron #nesta Archeron deserves better #anti nessian #anti inner circle

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high-quality-tiktoks · 2 years

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BRB. Going to stare at my new ACOTAR dust covers from thedustyshop.

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a-writer · 2 months

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Dancing around - Azriel x reader

I'll never get over the fact that Nesta and Az danced together in Hewn City which means that it is canon that Az actually knows how to dance so... here goes nothing:) Also took some things from scenes in ACOSF and changed it up a bit!:) enjoy<3

Warnings: no actual smut but a lot of smutty talking and thoughts.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wish to. But Elain mentioned that you have particular skill on the dance floor. Skill that once won you the hand of a duke in a single waltz." Rhys said as his eyes fixed upon Nesta.

Yes, sending her to dance with Eris was risky. But they didn't really have more options right now. Cassian wasn't looking too happy about that.

"Over my dead fucking body" He exploded. "Why can't (Y/N) do it?! She's a good fucking dancer, that's for sure."

"Thanks for the compliment, Cass." You smiled at him, his eyes full of hope for you to take his side. "But I'm with Rhys on this one. If I thought it was going to work I would do it, trust me... But Eris has known me for years, he knows I despise him. He's not going to buy the act and you know it. Plus, it will be fun to see Nesta toying with him." You gave her a wink while Cassian groaned.

"You want me to dance with Eris?" Nesta looked at you, but it was Rhys who answered.

"I want you to seduce him. Not into bed, but to make him realize what he might attain once he understands that we have no plans to break this alliance. To weigh the benefits more strongly than the risks."

"I'm sure you will do just fine, Nesta. I can show you all the dances so that you'll be prepared." You looked at her with bright eyes. Dancing lessons, always so fun.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything." Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much-"

"I'll do it." Nesta cut in, looking at you.

"Good" You smirked at her. "We start tomorrow."

----------------------------------------------------------

The Winter Solstice celebration was in full swing, people drinking and dancing to the beautiful music. With Rhysand and Feyre in the throne, you were sandwiched between Cassian and Azriel, the former glaring daggers at Eris' back while he danced with Nesta and the latter monitoring everything, his left wing resting lightly on your back.

"Fuck." Cassian growled. "I can't stand and watch this." He stormed off towards Mor, who was hiding behind a pillar on the other side of the throne.

"How long do you think will take them to realize?" A slow smile crept on your lips as you looked at Az.

"Realize what, Azriel?" Your innocent eyes met his cold stare. Everyone knew that they were mates. Everyone but Cassian and Nesta, apparently. And Eris, luckily.

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)." The sudden change of subject almost gave you whiplash. "As always."

His eyes roamed down your body, covered in a Night Court black dress that hugged every curve of your body. A small strip went around your neck and back, securing two pieces of fabric covering your breasts diagonally, forming a triangle that showed the tan skin of your torso, from the middle of your breasts until the top of your navel. A tight skirt was attached to it and your back was left exposed, your hair tied up in a tight ponytail that flowed down to the top of your ass. It seemed like time had stopped while Azriel's eyes covered your entire body. Finally returning to your face, his stare found your eyes and suddenly you felt a blush staining your cheeks.

"Uh..." You coughed, trying not to think too much about that stare. "Thanks, Az. You cleaned up nice, too." Winking at him, you turned to look straight once again.

Cleaning up nice wasn't enough to describe him. Az was... Az. His eyes, his body, his hair... All of him made you think the dirtiest thoughts ever. Like how his lips would feel against your skin, how having him look at you with that intensity in his eyes would feel while he was moving inside of you- Stop.

You needed to stop. You coughed again and felt Azriel looking at you again, a smirk covering his lips. Okey, maybe your smell had given away what your thoughts had been about, but he didn't know that you were thinking about him, did he?

Before you could overreact, he leaned towards you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You could feel goosebumps erupt all over your skin as he whispered. "Would you like to dance with me?"

You turned, your faces so close that your noses were almost touching, and you could see the amusement glinting in his eyes. Without breaking the eye contact, he lifted a hand in between your bodies and you took it, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Sure, Az." Your voice was higher than you'd intended, but still you plastered a cool smile on your face and lead the way to the dance floor.

A new song began just as you were settling down in a circle of couples. You could spy a glint of red hair on your peripheral vision, and you knew that Eris and Nesta were still going. Good. She seemed like she was having fun, after all.

The music began and both of you bowed, presenting yourselves to one another. He offered one of his hands and you gladly took it, taking one step closer to him. His other hand snaked across your waist and settled on your back. It was cold compared to your burning skin, and you could feel a shiver running up your back. Trying to suppress it, you forced yourself to look up at Azriel, a small sigh leaving your lips.

He was handsome, beautiful. The kind of person who turned heads wherever he went. A small pang of jealousy filled your chest at that thought and you shoved it down. It was ridiculous. You and Az were nothing, even though your chemistry was something else, that was for sure.

Azriel began moving, leading both of you graciously across the dance floor.

"I'm always surprised to see how good of a dancer you are." You were looking at his shoulder, trying to calm down the raging fire burning your insides.

"You'll be surprised to know how good I am at many things, (Y/N)." You could feel his smile as he said the words, and it was clear that he was aware of your body. Of the goosebumps, of your galloping heart and of the sweet, imperceptible to everyone but him smell of your arousal.

You tilted your head back, looking him in the eye, and the color stained your cheeks as you already found him looking at you. And then you felt it too. His slightly dilated pupils, his tongue swipping on his bottom lip and... His smell. It was just a slight change, you wouldn't even have noticed it if it weren't for the way he was looking at you. But there it was. Something muskier, rougher. Darker.

"You could show me, you know." The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You were always teasing Azriel, making jokes, giving him shit for always being so mysterious. But this felt different. It seemed like the whole room vanished and you were the only ones dancing around. His hand tightened on our back, bringing your body impossibly closer to him. You could feel his heart through your own chest, and a knowing smirk creeped over your face as you realized that it was beating as fast as yours. Azriel leaned once more, his mouth caressing your ear.

"I've been waiting to show you for a long, long time, (Y/N)." His voice was deeper, and you had a hard time suppressing a moan.

He moved away and you almost whined until you realized that the dance was over. You were about to grab his hand again and demand to know more about what he just said when Cassian appeared.

"Az, I need you to go dance with Nesta, please." He signaled with his head towards the throne. "Eris is talking with Rhys and I need to know what's going on."

"Sure, brother."

Cassian sprinted towards Mor once more and you were observing your High Lord and High Lady. Rhys wore a cool smile, just like Feyre, but you could sense the worry in her eyes. You didn't even see Azriel moving until the front of his body was flushed against your back, his hands possessively gripping your hips.

"Tonight is the night I'll show you everything that I'm good at." He lowered his head, pressing a quick kiss just below your ear. "And I'll show you everything I've been dying to do to you."

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head and you were about to become jelly in his hands, but you managed to turn around quickly, grabbing one of his hands before he could slip away.

"Make it a promise, Shadowsinger."

Azriel smiled and winked at you, before he went to find Nesta as the next dance began.

#Azriel #Acotar #acosf #azriel x reader #nessian #nesta archeron #acotar x reader #bat boys #rhys acotar #feyre archeron #azriel fanfic

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 8

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!Reader

A/N: Writing Nesta post-acosf is so confusing so I apologise if she’s a little ooc!

Word Count: 5,552

-Part 7- -🌌🌠- -Part 9-

It’s been while since you last ate with all of them.

Even so, the atmosphere is familiar. Jovial. Pleasant enough you can allow yourself to slip into spectation, vanishing in your mind’s eyes, becoming an observer without presence. Shadows flicker at the corner of your vision, and you’re brought back down to reality.

The restaurant lights are warm and yellowy, a magic barrier constructed at the room’s border to keep the temperature pleasantly mild, inky darkness swirling just beyond the threshold. Candles flicker, almost in time with his shadows. It’s hard to tell when natural darkness ends and his begins. But he doesn’t really like it when people stare at them, so you avert your eyes. Scratch the backs of your hands beneath the table, softened a little by cream.

By what you can only assume was a stroke of bad luck—or good, depending how you want to feel for the rest of the night—everyone had already settled into the dinner by the time you arrived, leaving a single seat open. Yes, you could’ve pulled over a chair, or requested one to be magically summoned, but that would be drawing attention to the issue, which would undoubtedly make the ineffable off-ness of your relationship with him that much more blatant.

So there he is, a steady presence to your left, situated at one end of the table. Elain to your right. How unfortunate. Or lucky, depending on the angle.

Take a sip of your water, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Lean slightly over to your sister. “Have I missed anything?” Cocoa flick to you, warm and soft in the mellow light, a little tired. Half-circles beneath her eyes. “Nothing much. I was planning on visiting Lucien again—hopefully within the week.” She answers mildly, a faint smile in her eyes. “There’s also a possibility of Nesta going over to have a look at the libraries in the Day Court.”

“Woah,” you mumble. “Looking for anything in particular, or simply for recreation?”

Elain shrugs, eyes flicking across the table. “Ask her,” she says simply.

Spine stiffens.

With fae hearing, plus the close proximity, there’s a high chance everyone heard that exchange. Refusing to do so will only draw more attention. You shoot Elain a reproachful look for putting you in this situation but she smiles encouragingly.

You find the elegant shape of your eldest sister a little further down the table—across and two over. Opposite Cassian who is beside Elain. Sharp eyes flit to your own a second after you’ve sought her out—she definitely heard. At least you didn’t vocalise any dismay over the forced interaction.

“Day Court?” You inquire, raising your brows in interest. She nods, lips parting in a smile, “quite the trip, isn’t it.” You laugh—trying to remember where the Day Court is in conjunction with Night. Come up short. “Already read through all the books here?” You reply, trying to keep the conversation fluid. Gaze absently flicks over the various plates and trays of food, picking out the things you’d like to try. A waft of something delicious floats down the table—a covered bowl sits between Rhys and Feyre. Soup, most likely. It has your mouth watering from the scent alone. Would be divine with some buttered bread.

“Nowhere near,” she responds, still smiling. “But there’s a particular author we’re after, and I’d like to see if I can find more of his books in those libraries.” You hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. “Different from The Runaway?” She blinks, then nods, “you’ve read it already?”

“Yeah. Finished it last week,” you answer, peering at the dishes closer to you, wonder what you can pick. It’s mostly meat. Some roast potatoes, poultry next along covered in an orange-red sauce that smells spicy.

“What did you think?” She asks, carefully ladling gravy to the edge of her own plate. It’s your turn to blink, recalling the story to the forefront of your mind. Exhale heavily, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t know, really,” you admit honestly, “there was a lot in it, I suppose. I’m still digesting it, in a way. Do you know what I mean?” She nods, eyes softening at the edges—you’ve said the right thing. “I think there’s a lot in it; a lot happened to him, and I think it did a good job on highlighting how perspective can be manipulated. I also like how the creature was only alluded to in earlier chapters while the first part of the plot was unfolding so you end up overlooking it?”

She gracefully cuts through a potato, dipping it in the gravy before neatly depositing it in her mouth. Elegant and refined. “Yes, I thought that was an interesting way of telling his story. The complications between Yvette and Hans helped with the initial distraction, I think.” Lips twists into a slight frown. “The section—I think around chapter seventeen? Eighteen…?” You pause, picturing how far through the book it was, then shake your head. “Around there, anyway. The section about those lights in the sky?— I had to put the book down for a bit.” You admit, smiling as you recall the passage.

Nesta nods her head. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I think I actually had to stand up and get myself another cup of tea to calm down when he connected the dots.” A grin parts your lips wider, skin warming at the memory. “Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “a different author.”

She nods in confirmation, “a different author.”

“Romance?” You ask, remembering her appreciation for the genre.

Something passes through the room, hairs slowly raising at the back of your neck. Eyes slide to Elain, but she’s conversing with Cassian, attention shifted away from you. Gaze flicks back to Nesta who has a tight smile on her lips—it’s still odd to see her smiling so openly and frequently.

“No, actually,” she begins slowly, cutlery lowering to her plate. Her fingers remain pressed tight to the metal. “It’s a spell-book,” she says, silvery-blue eyes gleaming like moonlight despite the warm glow about the private space. Brow furrows a little as you peer at her across the table, “a spell-book?” You ask. “What do you need a spell-book for?” Her spine straightens, attention moving to her meal as she slices into some meat, mouth opening to continue.

“The baby warrior’s been having doubts about his wingspan, I’ll bet,” Amren croons from across the table, snatching your attention. Your brow dips further, eyes now shifting to find Cassian further down the table—the other side of Elain. He seems fine, laughing brightly. “Is there a problem with them?” You ask Nesta, remembering how torn up they’d been after the mess with Hybern and the cauldron.

She shakes her head, lips lifting into a grin as she meets Amren’s steel-coloured eyes. “She’s just jealous,” Nesta returns, “Varian not treating you well?” Sharp eyes flash with challenge. “Maybe they should compare notes. I’m sure your mate could learn a thing or two,” she taunts, effectively ending your conversation with Nesta. A part of you wants to learn more—your natural inclination—but Amren’s whisked her away into conversation, Mor stuck between them.

Attention again flits to Elain, but she’s still contained in conversation with Cassian, leaving only the keen pair of eyes on your left to entertain yourself with. Raise the glass to your lips, forcing down a mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the light pulsing in the forefront of your head. Skin prickles beneath his attention, fingers shifting over your cutlery as you move to take food to your plate.

It seems rude to interrupt Elain’s conversation—you always go to her first. She speaks to people other than you, and probably enjoys doing so. You should leave her to enjoy the night. Take another drink of the clear liquid, shadows flickering in your peripherals as you set your sights on Nesta. Wait for an opening.

“What do you want the spell-book for?” You ask, feigning ignorance to their conversation. As if the question just appeared on your tongue, falling out before you could stop it. Two sets of sharp eyes cut to you, a single set of caramel flicking to steel warily. “A containment spell,” Nesta answers, slicing up some vegetables on her plate. “To bind.”

Amren’s lip curls into a distinctly predatory grin, almost warning. “Needing to spice things up so early in your relationship?” She croons. “I would have given it at least another few months before you two were in need of a bonding activity.” A fourth pair of eyes joins the discussion though he’s still wrapped in his own exchange. The hazel to your left has probably been observing for some time, too.

Nesta offers the petite female a tight smile, equally warning. Mor claps her hands, hastily breaking up the exchange. “Will you pass that down? Cass, be a dear and— no, next to it— the other side—yes! Thank you!” You watch slightly enviously as she ladles soup into a bowl, taking a slice of fluffy bread and slathering butter over its surface. Trace the soup as it’s returned to its place at the far end of the table, between Rhys and Feyre, one seat down from Nesta and Cassian.

And just like that, dialogue ebbs and flows around, leaving you with no way in. You’re quite glad for the reprieve. These dinners generally leave you in need of a weeks sleep to recover, by which point the next one is already scheduled. Exhausting. You don’t know how they manage it. Attention is still weighing on you as you raise your cutlery, poised to begin slicing into the meat upon your plate.

Elain is still preoccupied—to your steadily growing dismay. Nesta and Amren are locked in a verbal sparring match, while Mor chimes in here and there, occasionally attempting to rope Cassian in, too. Just to stir things up. Shadows flicker in the background.

His attention is becoming difficult to ignore. Clear your throat softly, focusing on cutting through the meat, slicing it into bitesized chunks. “Is something the matter, Azriel?” Shift the cutlery in your hands, easing up the pressure on your knuckles from the effort of cutting. He watches silently, his own plate clean and empty.

“Not at all,” he replies quietly, voice unliltling and void of inflection. Your brow twitches toward the centre, neatly spearing a chunk of flesh. Swallow in preparation. “Nothing?” You question, equally softly, biting down on the dead animal. It comes apart easily on your tongue, softened in a skillet somewhere, bathed in oils and rosemary, sprinkled with salts and spices. Force yourself to chew and swallow. “Nothing,” he repeats back, hazel eyes resting on your jaw, flicking to meet your gaze.

Finish your mouthful, move to the next sliver. Spike it on your fork. Half raise it from the plate then stop, lowering it quietly. “What are you watching?” You ask, eyes flicking down to your plate, skipping away from his. “Many things,” he answers vaguely. Shadows flicker at his back, wreathing his wings, tucking behind them. “I’d rather not be part of those things,” you murmur, finally biting down on the tender flesh. Chew enough so it’s digestible, then swallow. Think about nice things, like the books at the house, golden eyes, and dried flowers. “You’re in public,” he replies, tone still without inflection. “That’s an impossible request.”

Three pieces left, and it’ll be done.

“You can look elsewhere instead of staring a hole in my head,” you murmur. “Maybe,” you add hastily, softening the sharp suggestion. These situations always put you a little on edge. So many people.

He’s quiet for a bit, but his attention doesn’t shift, despite his gaze moving to be further down the table. You manage another chunk of meat, teeth dully masticating as you grind the flesh down, focusing on the herbs and spices in place of the ashen, earthy flavour of the animal carcass.

Azriel’s attention weighs into you, skin prickling, hairs raising at the back of your neck as you try to ignore it. It’s probably being exacerbated by your imagination. Raise the fifth and final piece to your mouth, thinking about rotating planets and cocoa, of whiskey and caramel as your teeth bite and chew absently. He’s still observing; you shift in your chair, swallowing the mouthful. Reach for your glass, gulp down the clear liquid.

Nearly choke, the alcohol burning your throat. Nose scrunches before you can help it, covering your mouth with the napkin while you cough as quietly as possible. Elain pats you on the back making you smile as you overcome the initial shock. “Something go down the wrong way?” She asks, lips curving in a grin she’s clearly attempting to suppress in favour of a more sympathetic expression. Puts those attempts to rest when you laugh quietly, nodding to the liquid. “Too eager,” you whisper, refolding the napkin. Elain covers her own mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled mirth; you shoot her a playful glare.

Mor, sitting opposite Elain; beside Nesta, breaks from her conversation with the two, attention flitting to you, as if she had been lying in wait for her chance. “So!” She says, golden hair shining resplendent beneath the glow, like a flame encased in honey. “When shall we go shopping?” Her hands clap together, red lips parting in a friendly smile.

Oh.

You’d blessedly forgotten that promise of hers.

Swallow uneasily. “It’s fine… The polish and lip tint were lovely,” you smile, hoping she’ll leave it be. “Nonsense,” she chirps, collecting a few more roast potatoes onto her plate, Amren gingerly taking a few after her, nose almost wrinkling with suspicion. “You love books, and I apparently need a reason to spend time with you, so a shopping trip is perfect!” You offer her what you hope is a steady smile, one that disguises the strain you’re feeling, “I don’t want to be a bother—it’s fine, really. There are plenty of books in the library, anyway, and I’ve barely made it through the first two levels.”

Brows shoot up to her hairline. “Every book? You’ve been reading all of them?” You blink at her surprise, then hesitantly dip your head. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach, hands gripping one another as tension slices through your shoulders. “Are they— Am I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Read away!” She laughs, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “I hadn’t expected your interests to be so different, is all,” she smiles. “I tried to read a couple from the library when I was younger and nearly bored myself to tears.” You smile faintly, relaxing back into your chair. “I guess they’re not for everyone,” you reply, posture softening against the back of your seat.

Mor laughs, the sound like wind chimes caught on a stray breeze, golden hair glinting in the warm light. You have to look away. It feels wrong to even look at her—to try and place her individual beauties. Peer down at your empty plate, hunger gnawing at your stomach lining. You should have remembered to eat before coming along.

“So what about tomorrow?” She asks, dipping buttered bread into her bowl. Raise your head to look at her, confusion lining your brows. She smiles easily, “for a shopping trip, of course.”

“Not every creature enjoys being put through your endless chatter, Mor,” Amren snipes from her side. The blonde female pouts, throwing a glare to the petite Fae on her right.

Warm toffee eyes flick to cocoa, brightening with an idea, “Elain could come along too!” Spine goes rigid, every ounce of willpower straining to keep from glancing to your left, wondering what he’s thinking. Swallow heavily, stiffening as your older sister is brought into the discussion. Mor smiles eagerly, “what do you say, Elain? Fancy a shopping trip tomorrow?”

Nails slice into your palms, piercing small crescent shapes into your skin—you’ve been trying not to bite them. Press further back into your seat, muscles coiling with anxiety. Not both of them.

You can practically feel the moment steely silver eyes pick up on your reluctance, like she has a sixth sense for picking at scabs. But Elain sighs apologetically, “that would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time.” Relief washes over your skin, bathed in a cool breeze. “I told you so,” Amren snickers to the blonde female.

Mor’s brows dip together, “oh, piss off Amren. I know you like picking out clothes to wear for Varian with me.” The cunning female raises her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies smoothly, Mor’s lips twitching at the obvious denial.

Turn to Elain, taking in the natural glow of her features. “Have plans?” You ask quietly, hand absently resting over your stomach. Involuntarily glance at the soup further up the table, tongue flicking out over your lips. She shakes her head, softly curled silky hair cascading over her slim shoulders. In your peripherals, you can make out how shadows stretch across the table, reaching. “I’ve been dreadfully tired lately,” she admits, equally hushed.

Brow furrows in concern, about to ask further, but Mor’s on you again. “Guess it’ll just be us tomorrow!” She smiles genuinely, excited for the plans. When you glance sidelong at your sister, she’s already settled back into conversation with Cassian, your youngest sister and her mate joining in. You nod in surrender, accepting it’s something that has to happen. It would be overtly rude to decline her invitation now.

“Great! We can squeeze in a lunch, too,” she grins, washing down the soup with a glassful of wine. “Maybe you can direct me to some of the more interesting library books,” she suggests, eyes sparking with excitement. You nod again, fatigue beginning to weigh on your shoulders. It’s nice watching them, but you frequently forget how draining it is to be involved.

Lean back into your chair, pulling your stomach in as you feel pressure grow—you’d die of embarrassment if it started growling. Hastily drink some more in attempts to fill it up. Hungrily eye the plates of food. Maybe the poultry wouldn’t be too bad with the sauce—chicken was hard to come by all those years ago.

A delicious scent catches your attention, shadows skittering away as he silently ladles soup into his bowl. Nobody asks about the shuffling round of plates. Stomach rumbles and you flush, hands clamping over your stomach as humiliation burns along your skin. Mouth almost watering, but you force yourself to wait; appear only mildly interested in the food. An appropriate amount of attention for a dinner.

His hand knocks into the bowl, pushing it aside to make room for another dish, so it’s to his right. Almost subtle enough to appear accidental.

Still, you finally help yourself to the soup, equal parts affection and shame weighing in your gut.

————

The night air is crisp and cool, soothing the warmth of your skin as you follow quietly a way behind the group.

Feyre and Rhys have already made their way home, not liking to spend too long away from Nyx, despite knowing he’s well cared for. There seems to be discussion ahead of taking things further for the night, perhaps more drinking.

After having left the restaurant, Nesta had sought you out. You’d been surprised to say the least—a little on edge—but it had been nothing to worry about. She’d merely extended an invitation for you to join her on their trip to the Day Court. Perhaps to seek out some books you’d been interested in, she’d suggested.

You’d politely declined.

Now you turn to Elain, the darkness bringing out the slight dip below her eyes. “You okay?” You ask, the chatter of the streets soothing background noise. Fading to a constant hum in the back of your mind, falling into the empty recesses. She nods, sighing heavily. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” she replies quietly. “And, I’ve…” shakes her head. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” she sighs again. “You always were more prone to sickness than the rest of us,” you reply, nudging her shoulder playfully.

She smiles gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Maybe I’ll come and cough on you so you get ill for once,” she grins.

Nose wrinkles as you smile, “gross.” She laughs at that, then the two of you fall quiet, walking together in companionable silence. Trudging your way back to the River House, keeping fairly close to the main group who are still deciding whether or not to turn in for the evening.

You know you’ll be heading back to the House of Wind for the night.

Curious to see if a response has been written.

————

The House is quiet. Halls empty and silent as you pad down the corridor to your room.

Maybe you should check with Nesta whether she wants you to move out of here—switch to the River House. Anxiety slices at your gut, fatigue weighing your eyelids at the thought. You’re sure she’ll say something if she wants you out. You aren’t keen to initiate conversation with her unless necessary.

When you enter your room, candles are already lit, courtesy of the House. A few clothes lay on the floor, but it’s mostly clear. Almost tidy.

Parchment rests across your desk, and you eagerly hurry over.

Nothing has been added.

Excitement dies away, scratching at the backs of your hands absently.

Wearily take a seat, playing with the pen between your fingers, chewing on your lower lip. Debating the merits of bothering him when he’s taken no interest in your last comment.

Toss the thoughts out your window, throwing all caution to the wind.

Long day?

Bite down on your tongue, pulling at the top most layer of skin until you bleed. Wait for the paper to disappear. Seconds tick by, counting as they drain away. Steadily turning into minutes. Lean your cheek on the table, slumping forward as boredom creeps in, the pendant clunking as it hits the wooden surface of the table.

Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?

You aren’t particularly sure where the question comes from. Maybe the still-boxed jigsaw puzzle sitting atop a dusty stack of books has something to do with it.

Paper vanishes, and you perk up, straightening in your chair, fingers flexing. Excitement stirring in your chest. Absently reach for a pot of cream, unscrewing the lid as you trace the desiccated skin of your knuckles. Slowly soothe it in, rub the dips between your fingers, pretending your hands are someone else’s.

Parchment reappears, having you eagerly lean forward.

No.

You scowl at the curt response, twiddling the pen in your hands.

Sour and miserable indeed. Were my earlier questions not interesting enough to deign a response?

Letter vanishes, your feet tapping against the floor, fidgeting with the writing instrument. Turn to the anthology as you usually end up doing while waiting for his reply. Flip to the page you’d bookmarked, removing the silver embossed fabric. Lips quirk when you spot the title: Explosions: Rapid Division.

Shift the book so it’s in the centre of your desk, reading the introductory passage, instinctively scanning the diagrams with intrigue. Paper reappears atop the pages.

You forget I am a high-ranking individual with a multitude of tasks to attend to. I don’t get to spend my days simply lying around to pester the only person who’ll give me a scrap of attention.

Cheeks heat with embarrassment, yet you find yourself smiling at the familiar sharpness of his tongue. Ease out a deep breath, relaxing into your chair, flicking the pen in your dry fingers before lowering it to the parchment.

I think if you truly felt pestered, you wouldn’t be responding at all. Feeling lonely over there, Eris?

The paper vanishes, and you treat yourself to an image of his brows narrowing, lip curling as ire blazes in caramel eyes. Mouth widens into a smile as your feet tip-tap on the floor-boards, absently dipping your finger tips into the pot of cream again, putting more over the roughness of your skin as you wait patiently.

Parchment reappears, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

And what about yourself? The hell-cat is leaving for quite a while, isn’t she?

Lips part on a sharp exhale, spine straightening as your eyes flick about the room anxiously. How does he know that? Should you tell someone? Brow narrows in concentration, mind scrambling to think up a response that won’t give anything away, without sounding so vague he knows you’re avoiding the question. Swallow heavily, rubbing in the last of the cream, reaching for your pen. Lower it to the desk, and falter. What do you say? Is feigning ignorance too obvious?

The letter vanishes before you’ve had a chance to even put a speck of ink upon it, and it dawns on you that the question was timed. Picture the way his lips part is a slow smile as he sees the blank paper.

Manipulative bastard.

I suppose she’ll be taking the brute with her, too?

Fingers tighten on the pen, teeth grinding. Is this why he warned you about Eris? Because of how quickly he can extract information through carefully assembling pieces? Jaw tenses, but more silence will be confirmation.

How do you know any of that?

Chew on your lower lip as you await his reply, heart pounding. Azriel would be furious. Swallow down the nausea, teeth sliding beneath your nails—toeing the line of biting down, but restraining yourself.

Really, how do you think Court politics works? Of course we keep tabs on one another. I’m sure your shadowsinger has plenty of spies littered throughout Prythian. Possibly further, too.

Blood ices, peering down at your necklace and the map contained within. Imagining how wide his net must be to thread throughout it all. How much work it must take to keep everything running. Ruthless discipline. How tiring it must be. The weight, the pressure to keep it all maintained.

Head beginnings swimming at the thought of it. Would you even be able to keep up with him?

Why are you telling me this?

The pen scratches over the parchment, struggling to keep lines clean through the slight tremor in your hands. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much work must regularly go into sustaining such a network.

It’s a little embarrassing that you don’t already know. What are they teaching you over there? How to be an emotional burden?

The words hit sharp in your chest, hooks latching into the soft, vascular muscle of your heart. Poised to shred in an instant. Awaiting for the split second of weakness to rip. Rupture the organ in a clean tear.

Fear spikes.

I understand why your brother wants nothing to do with you if that’s how you speak with people.

The words are stamped into the page before you have time to reason it out. Blood rushes round your ears, wincing as your fingertips burn with the faint embers of power that have begun sparking up every now and again. Preemptively reach for the hand cream, preparing to soothe the itch once it fully manifests.

He’ll read into that comment. You know he will. Read between the lines to figure out just how much that one stung.

Parchment reappears and you warily lean forward, eyes skimming the clean script.

I’d been wondering where you kept your lovely claws, cygnet.

I didn’t mean to write that.

Wipe hands on your skirts, anxiety kicking up in the pit of your stomach. Roiling with worry.

You knew perfectly well what you were doing. You simply despise the way you are.

Has anyone else commented on how similar you are to Nesta Archeron?

Heart sinks to your stomach, biting on your tongue until you taste copper. Dislike how deep he’s wormed his way already. How did things go from light-hearted sparring matches to full scale battle in so few conversations?

And what about you? You write, mimicking his earlier diversion. Do your brothers share your affinity for poisoned words?

The parchment vanishes for a while this time, though you don’t even try to distract yourself with the anthology. Leg taps anxiously, trying to rub cream into your hands, hoping if it’s done tonight, they won’t ache tomorrow. The last thing you need right now is another flare up. Try to focus on the scent—light and sweet. Like gardenias and sugar.

Your attempts to redirect are as graceful as the first steps of a freshly birthed hound. Perhaps once you settle into your skin you’ll become more skilled at deflecting uncomfortable topics.

Skin prickles, hairs standing on end as you again raise the pen in hand. Considering routes to return to earlier discussions that weren’t so intrusive.

Alternatively, you could choose lighter conversation starters. For example, why did you send the anthology?

Certainly not the most succinct switch in direction, but better than continuing down that path. Ease a breath into your lungs once the paper vanishes, reminding yourself you don’t have to reply to him. At any point, you’re free to leave. Lean back in your chair, stretching out your limbs, muscles spasming and aching in your shoulders, fingers trembling as bones click in your spine. Deflate into the seat, muscles relaxing all at once.

You haven’t noticed anything yet?

Brows furrow, peering at the volume. Close it and flip it over—nothing on the back. Reopen it to the contents page, peering at the compilation of titles, authors, and page numbers. Scan the introductory section again, searching for anything to give you a hint at what he’s talking about.

(Writing about.)

I’m mildly concerned to ask? You write, keeping the conversation light, steering away from the earlier topics. Hoping he’ll keep away from family-related chatter.

Then read away.

Heart spikes at the ominous reply. What the hell is he talking about?

Eris, are you serious?

Paper vanishes, reappearing moments later.

Nothing but.

Roll your eyes at the response, but again set pen to paper.

If you were a human, you’d be riddled in various worry-marks by now. Does that thought upset you?

Lips quirk faintly, hoping it irritates him sufficiently.

Is this how you cope with discomfort? Pretending it away? Making light of it?

Damn him.

Instead of…?

Instead of hiding like a coward. Your blithe little act is growing dreadfully monotonous.

Straighten in your chair, shifting uncomfortably. Are you boring? Is that it? Is that the whole reason he…

Do fae have milestone dates like humans do? You said you don’t remember your twenty-first.

Paper disappears, and you become aware of the tension coiling in your shoulders. Maybe you should turn in for the night. Writing to him is supposed to be fun, not make you feel so…

Squirm uncomfortably, slouching in the seat. Crick your neck, releasing built up pressure, stretching your toes. Move to blow out the candles, but the letter reappears.

You really are turning out to be quite dull.

Brows scrunch with hurt, then even out. It’s ridiculous to be upset over behaviour he’s made no effort to hide. You shouldn’t be surprised he’s not changing, yet you had hoped…

Swallow, then sigh, the pen feeling heavy in your hand.

And you’re unnecessarily barbed.

(Who taught you to be that way, Eris?)

(Am I going to grow up to be like you?)

Paper vanishes, but you find yourself awaiting a reply. Marinating in your room while your lids grow heavier, shoulders slumping with fatigue, the base of your spine beginning to ache.

Stand from your desk, eyes flicking unwillingly to your nightstand, a small, royal blue gift box sat neatly atop it. The tule bow as resplendent as ever—shifting between vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

(Sometimes, when it gets particularly bad, I like to look at it before I go to sleep. Fantasise about being the female he likes, instead of the one I am.)

(Sometimes, when I want to indulge in misery, I like to imagine dressing up for him. Imagine him telling me how pretty I am, imagine him sliding the golden hooks into pointed ears.)

(Sometimes I imagine.)

(Sometimes I imagine, because it’s the closest to reality I’ll ever get.)

Hear the distinct sound of paper on the table, and you still. End up turning anyway. Move over to your desk, reading the message.

You can do better.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Slump into the seat, head tipping back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms fall dully to your sides, too tired to feel anything.

Sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand in favour of pulling away your clothes. Rid yourself of every constraint, pendant clunking on the bedside table.

The same-old, off-white cotton night gown swallows you, falling to your ankles as you settle into the mattress.

And to think, you’d been considering asking what things were like in his court.

How nice it might have been to make a trip of your own.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel angst #azriel acotar #CBMTHY #azriel x reader angst #CBMTHY Chapter 8

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foxylady13 · 2 months

Text

Disproving the narrative of 'Azriel won't get his own book' + Who Will His Love Interest Be?

When asked if Azriel would get his own book... this was her answer:

In another live she mentions she knows who the next book is about but wouldn't mention if it was a male or female main character, but there will be a pegasus in it, and again she said it was pretty obvious!!

When she was asked a question about Azriel's shadows she had this to say:

"When it's time for HIS story to be told"

^All that proves Azriel will get his own book, in my opinion and..

As for who his love interest will be?

Well... this is her answer on characteristics that an enticing love interest would have...

Who is it that has Azriel feels a spark in his chest for in the bonus scene of HIS (which takes place between Ch.58/59 of ACOSF)? Gwyn.

Who is it that Azriel attention is fixed on more and more after feeling that initial spark in the bonus scene throughout the rest of ACOSF? Gwyn.

Who is it that has history with Azriel, as well as her own history left to still be explored? Gwyn. Reminder that Sarah wrote that Azriel was the one who saved her, slaughted the soldiers without hesitation, and even gave her his cloak to cover up with.

Who is it that can challenge Azriel and has bantered with him? Gwyn.

I also found this question in a live and her answer interesting when it comes to the Valkyries bracelets:

She went with her 'spiritual gut instinct' as to what colors she associates with the characters.

And in the scene with these three making the bracelets in Chapter 59?

Gwyn's bracelet: Blue, White, and Teal.

What do I think these colors could mean?

Blue for Azriel. Teal for Gwyn's eyes.

White for her powers (to compliment Azriel's darkness) or even when Gwyn does feel worthy of the Invoking Stone (which is also Blue). Gwyn even mentions this about the Invoking Stone in Chapter 15:

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

And there is this to when Gwyn was holding the stone: It fluttered with light, like the sun on a shallow sea.

The Invoking Stone is similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians.... Gwyn has a Blue Invoking Stone that matches with Azriel's Siphons and the Invoking Stone is used for healing and protection, which is the perfect counterpart to Azriel killing...

Also, in regards to that earlier picture where she mentions the next book and a pegasus....

Who in ACOSF was most loved by a certain pegasus? Gwyneth Bedara (P.S. this was revealed during the ribbon cutting scene in Chapter 60, which I will post below, and again happens after the bonus scene takes place.)

"As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction" and "Right then and there. That's when it all changed." <--- This to me is Sarah telling us her plans changed and in this scene both the world and Azriel paused/stilled..... and he stilled as if aware that far larger forces peered into the ring as Gwyn moved.....

I think it's clear after reading ACOSF that Azriel will get his own book given how much he was prominent in it, and taking into account the bonus scene, and what happens after..... Sarah has shown us who his love interest will be.

These two will heal and grow, both individually and together, and I can't wait for their story to be told. 🥰❤🥰

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #acosf #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwyn acosf #azriel acosf #azriel and gwyn #gwyn and azriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel endgame

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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months

Note

Can I ask somthing? You can totally ignore this if you're not comfortable!! Can you write somthing like reader has been SA'ed before and az or cass or Rhys(your choice who) doesn't know this and tries to take things to 3rd base but reader gets really uncomfortable and tells them what she's been through so the bat boy comforts her saying he'll wait however long he has to for her, holding her and then goes all angry psycho on the person who SA'ed her.

(I was SA'ed a few years ago and the 'date' is coming closer that's why I just need somthing to keep my mind distracted. Plzzzz ignore this if you aren't comfortable with it!! I totally understand!)

Finally Safe

Summary: Reader is the youngest of the Vanserra's, but like Lucien, is the daughter of Helion. She has a pretty dark past that she doesn't even want to think about, and so, no one other than she herself knows about it.

When her mate tries to take things further in their relationship, everything she has kept inside herself comes spilling out.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Hi my love! I am soo glad that you sent this ask, it makes me so happy (this one is the first fic request I've received! I also feel extremely honored that you chose me for writing such a sensitive topic).

Also, I'm soo sorry that you had to go through that! I've never had any experience with SA or anyone who went through it, so I'm not sure if I can write something that really captures the depth of the situation, but I did listen to a few SA stories and podcasts ('Rotten Mango' podcasts, if any of you wanted to know) and I'll try my best with this.

Also, I've had this story idea for like a year now since I finished reading acosf, so I'm going with Azriel for this one.

Aaand I tried to make it as long as possible, hope it what you wanted to read.

Hope you like it! Enjoy!

Tw: mentions of SA, not graphic torture scene under '•○●⛦●○•', none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Everywher her eyes went, there was darkness.

All she could hear, laughter, grunts and disgusting words spewed from equally disgusting mouths.

All she could smell was sweat, her own tears, and things she didn't want to think about.

All she could feel was the nauseating touches of a male she didn't know and the cool ground under her back.

All she could taste was the bile climbing up her throat.

She just wanted it to be over. She just wanted them to leave so she could curl up into a ball and cry herself to sleep.

Why?

She kept asking herself.

Why me?

She would probably never get the answer to it. And even if she did, she'd never understand how someone could do something as horrible as this.

Then she started screaming. As she always did.

•○🌑○•

Y/n jerked up, her chest heaving. She sat up, scooting back towards the headboard and pressing herself against it, tugging the blankets to cover herself as her eyes frantically searched around for any sign of movement in her chambers.

Of course, there was no one, but the fear never went away. Probably never would.

Long moments went by as she tried to calm herself, telling herself that she was safe. That she wasn't in that dungeon anymore. That she was far from it, she was in Day Court.

Her actual father's domain, apparently.

Soon after Amarantha had trapped everyone Under the Mountain, her mother had broken the news to her. That she wasn't Beron's daughter, but Helion's. And then, secretly, over the decades, Helion and Y/n had started to spend more time together. Her father was guilty that he hadn't been there for her when she was a kid, and so the two of them tried to make up for the time they had lost.

Y/n shook her head, laying down again and deciding to atleast try to get some sleep. There was going to be an important meeting in a few hours, and all the High Lords were going to arrive for the meeting. For planning the course of the war against Hybern.

She needed all the sleep she could get as it would be very stressful and she was supposed to be present as her father's Second in Command.

Still, she could not sleep. Knowing she would not be able to sleep anytime soon, she finally stood and made her way to the washing chamber when the watery rays of sunlight filtered in through the window.

She scrubbed herself raw in scalding hot water in hopes of washing away all the phantom stickiness she still felt on her body. After that, she got dressed in a white and golden flowy gown, the colours of Day.

Being the second of command of Helion wasn't the only reason she wrote this colours.

It would also be making a statement. That she had chosen Day Court over Autumn Court.

Beron knew she wasn't his daughter. He also thought that she was picked up from a dumpster. That's what Lady of Autumn had told him.

When she was pregnant with Y/n, she had stayed away from Beron for months, and when she returned, she returned with a newborn, saying she found the baby on the side of a road near a dumping ground. Beron didn't care as long as he was not concerned in the child's upbringing.

After Feyre had ended Amarantha's reign, Y/n had left the Autumn Court, making the excuse that she wanted to settle somewhere else.

And that's how she had ended up in Day. She had tried her best to convince Helion not to do this, as it could put relations between the two courts in jeopardy, especially as Beron would see it as a sign of betrayal. But he didn't care.

Y/n just prayed to the cauldron that the meeting would go without anyone dying.

•○🌑○•

She stepped into the airy meeting area, her dress fluttering around her feet.

The guards outside had informed her that the High Lords from Dawn and Summer Court had arrived quite some time ago, and Night Court had just come just moments before she did.

All eyes went to her, and all the Lords' eyes lit with recognition. She just gave a then a polite smile, before grinning at Rhys, who grinned back and pulled her into a hug.

"She was a friend Under the Mountain." He told his Inner Circle, pulling back from her. She nodded at the members that were present before her eyes landed on an Illyrian standing near a doorway, his eyes alert and on the High Lords.

As if sensing her gaze, he glanced at her. And when he did, everything in the world stopped. At least for Y/n.

Snap.

Her body locked up, her eyes widening. She stared and stared at him. She vaguely heard her name being called, but she couldn't process it.

"Y/n?" Her father touched her arm and she jerked back, gasping. She looked up at him, her eyes frantic. He had a confused smile on his face. She took a deep breath, pulling an indifferent mask on.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay? You look alarmed." She swallowed, glancing at the winged male to see if he had felt it too. By the confusion lacing his featured, he hadn't. She tried not to let her disapointment show.

"Yes. I'm fine."

Her father nodded, unconvinced as he gave her a look that said we'll talk about this.

Then she felt a tap on her mental shields. She opened a pathway and let Rhys in.

What is it? He questioned.

She thought for a moment before answering. Mate.

His eyes lit up and he smiled. That's amazing.

She nodded and walked to her seat, plopping down on it.

As everyone waited for others to arrive, Y/n couldn't help but keep glancing at the male.

Beautiful. He was beautiful.

As the meeting progressed, she kept chiming in with her suggesting but not really paying attention, completely avoiding looking at Beron. She also learned that the male's –her mate's– name was Azriel. She knew she had heard the name before, but couldn't place where.

But she would, soon enough.

•○🌑○•

"My dear, what happened back there?" Helion asked as soon as he and his daughter were alone.

She turned to him helplessly. "He–he was–is, my mate."

His brows furrowed. "Azriel?" When she nodded, a smile as bright as the Court he ruled over spread across his face. "You found your mate! You must tell him! Oh Mother, I'll hold a ball in your honor. I–"

"Dad. Who is he?" She would've called him father if not for his very pouty request that she call him dad. Father sounded too formal, according to him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. How could I forget! He's the Spymaster of the Night Court."

Her jaw dropped. "The feared Spymaster of Night Court?" He nodded happily. "Then should we not be scared? Doesn't he have... quite the reputation?"

"That he does, but from what I've gleaned from my centuries, he's a sweetheart with people he cares about. Atleast, that's what Rhysand has been telling me. If he's lying, I'll be very sad."

Y/n couldn't believe it. One of the most feared male in all of Prythian was her mate. Her gods darned mate.

She didn't know how she would tell him, considering she had never had an interaction with him. Still, she'll have to figure it out.

Because, feared or not, he deserved to know.

•○🌑○•

After the war.

She had realised that any one of them could die at any moment after the war, and then she'll feel guilt for not telling her mate about the bond. And so, she wanted to get to know him first. She had no idea how she'd do that, but her father did.

The war was over, but that didn't mean that everything was fine. And so, under the excuse of strengthening ties with the Night Court, her father had sent Y/n to help in Velaris. Of course, when she had called his bluff, he had acted innocent and declared he didn't know what she was talking about.

So now, it had been a week off her staying in Velaris, and she hadn't had any sort of conversation with Azriel except for a few polite smiles here and there.

She was in a room right next to Azriel, which Rhys claimed had nothing to do with their bond.

She huffed and turned onto her side, trying to fall asleep.

That was when she felt a panicked tug on the bond. She practically flew out of her bed and into Azriel's room to find him writhing on the bed. It was pitch dark, his shadows frantic.

She quickly made her way towards the bed, realising he was having a nightmare. She gently placed her hand on his bare shoulder, tying to wake him up because she didn't know what else to do.

She shook him slowly so as not to startle him, but when he didn't wake up, she put a little more force into it.

Which was, she realised a little too late, was the wrong thing to do.

One second, she was kneeling on his bed trying to wake him up. The next, she was pinned on the mattress, Azriel snarling in her face, one of his hands wrapped around her throat, the other clutching her hands above her head. But that wasn't what caused her breathing to grow shallow or her instincts to scream at her to flee.

No. It was the fact that she was helpless as she was pressed into the mattress.

Dark dungeons.

Beron's Second in Command sneering at her.

Her screams.

She couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she—

Suddenly, the weight was lifted from her body, her hands free and the grip around her throat vanishing. She gasped, scrambling to sit up and scoot away from Azriel, who was kneeling in front of her with a horrified expression.

"I– I'm so sorry. I didn't mean–"

Y/n shook her head, trying to find her voice. "It's okay." She rasped.

"Did I hurt you?" She shook her head. He seemed to think for a moment. "Did I scream?" When she shook her head again, his eyes narrowed. "Then how did you know I was having a nightmare?"

She paled. "I just thought you– I didn't..." She knew lying to him would be futile, he was a damned Spymaster for a reason. So she swallowed and told him the truth. "I felt it."

She did not meet his eyes, though he stared at her. "How?"

She stayed silent. A few moments passed before she sighed and tugged on the bond. Gently at first. When he gave no reaction, she tugged harder.

He gasped, leaning forward and clutching his chest, staring at her with wide eyes. It felt like eternity had passed before he finally spoke.

"How–how long have you known?"

She looked at him as she cleared her throat. "Since the High Lords' meeting. Before the war."

"That's why you kept staring at me. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to get to know you first. I was scared."

He seemed to have regained his composure as he nodded. He stayed quiet for a moment. "Do you– do you want the bond? It's okay if you don't want it. Want me. I know my reputation isn't... the best."

"I want this Azriel. I just want to get to know you more before we accept the bond."

A smile stretched across his face, stealing Y/n's breath away.

"Then... how do you feel about getting dinner tomorrow?"

She smiled. "I would like that. Very much."

•○🌑○•

It had been a few months since that night, and Azriel and Y/n had been courting each other traditionally, like they would have if they weren't mates.

They took it slowly. Just last month they had shared their first kiss.

They had told each other everything about their pasts. She knew all about Azriel and he knew all about her. Except that one thing that not even her father knew. It wasn't as if she didn't want to tell him. She just didn't know how to.

As she knocked on the door to his new home, she wondered if she should tell him today. Better late then never, right?

He opened the door, an instant grin spreading on his face as he opened the door wide.

"Welcome home love." He mumbled, kissing her temple as she passed by him. She smiled and set the box in her hands on the corner where the other boxes were. "Dinner's ready."

He had recently bought this house for the two of them. His stuff was already here, and the box Y/n had been carrying was the last of her belongings.

When she had insisted that she could bring her stuff herself and didn't need him, he had declared that he'd be cooking dinner then.

They sat in comfortable silence as they ate. After the plates had been cleared away, he forced her to sit and relax while he did the dishes.

So as she sat on the kitchen counter, she told him of the new book she'd been reading. Soon enough, he had finished his work and was standing between her knees, leaning on his hands on either side of her hips, listening diligently as she finished her story.

"And that, my love, is how they got their happy ending." She flicked his nose.

He sighed. "I wonder if I'll get my happy ending tonight."

She giggled. "And what do you think your happy ending will be?"

"Just a few sweet kisses from my sweet sweet mate."

She laughed and kissed him. He smiled into the kiss.

It was amazing and dreamy, like she had always imagined and wanted her life with her mate to be like.

But the dreaminess of the moment soon started summoning her nightmares as Azriel's hand started to inch higher on her thigh, his other hand tugging her towards the edge of the counter.

Panic flared in her as she placed her hand on his chest, trying to push him away gently.

But then his hand brushed the waistband of her pants, and she pulled away with a gasp, her chest heaving. "No."

His brows furrowed as he searched her eyes. "What happened, darling?"

Tears formed in her eyes as those memories started creeping up on her. "No– not yet Azriel. I–I can't–"

Seeing those tears, his face softened with understanding. "Hey, its okay. We can wait. There's no hurry. Can you tell me what the matter is? Is it something I did?"

She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "A century ago, I was still living in Autumn Court. Beron's Second in Command hated me, for no other reason that I existed, apparently. He was always trying to get me executed or imprisoned. One time, he succeeded. He convinced Beron to throw me in the dungeon because I was being rebellious, according to him. A few days in the dungeon would discipline me. And–and that he would personally look over my imprisonment." As her voice broke on the last part, Azriel's hands clutched her own and squeezed.

She swallowed. "He... he did overlook my imprisonment. Quite personally too."

He searched her eyes, his face hard. "The guards? They did nothing?"

She laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They enjoyed watching him... discipline me." She wiped her face with her sleeves. "I'm so sorry, you have to wait because of me–"

He shushed her. "One thing I always want you to remember is that it wasn't ever your fault. It was his. Never apologise for someone else's mistakes." She sniffled as he pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulders as she wound her hands around the back of his shoulders. He clasped the back of her neck as his other hand rubbed her back. He then carried her to their new bedroom, while she clung to him like a child, all the while murmuring about how it wasn't her fault.

He sat her down on the bed, helped her change into her night clothes before laying her down and settling down next to her. She lay her head n his chest, breathing in his calming scent.

"Can you tell me his name, love?"

"Orvyn."

She could feel him nod. She wondered why he asked, but couldn't think straight as sleep started creeping in.

She would ask him tomorrow, she decided.

•○🌑○•

Azriel's pov.

He was alert as the footsteps became louder and louder, until that bastard came into view. Azriel wanted to gut him like a fish, but that would not calm his rage. So he calmly stepped out of his shadows, only enough that he could be heard without having to shout.

"Orvyn?" He questioned. The blonde male turned, squinting to make out who had called his name. "Are you the Second in Command?"

Azriel watched as his chest puffed at the mention of his title. "Yes. That's me. Who might you be?"

Then Azriel stepped completely away from the darkness concealing him and smirked. He prowled closer, noticing how fear entered Orvyn's eyes, and how he refused to back down.

But while he was busy staring at the Spymaster, he failed to notice the shadows winding around his legs and arms. When Azriel was close enough to him, he whispered. "Your death."

Orvyn's eyes widened as he opened his mouth to scream, but before he could even take a breath, Azriel had winnowed the both of them away to the dungeons. The place where his mate had been kept.

•○●⛦●○•

As the darkness cleared from his vision, he found that his shadows had already bound Orvyn to the wall, keeping him standing. Some of them held his hand next to his head while some had bound his mouth so he couldn't scream. And some had already gone to keep an eye on anyone who might be coming near, sealing the ears of the guards nearby.

Azriel smiled at Orvyn as he whispered. "Where shall we start?" He pulled out Truth–Teller and placed it near his fingers. "Here? I think that's a good idea."

And then, as slowly as he could, he cut off the bastard's fingers. The stench of piss hit the air. "What is this? I thought you were supposed to be very brave and powerful. What happened now? If you're crying and pissing yourself now, I wonder what you'll do when I carve your dick out. I'll do that, then maybe even take your eyes as souvenirs. What do you say? Oh, and also, I want you to know that I'm not doing this because I'm being paid for it or anything. I just found out you assaulted my mate. Remember? Her name was Y/n."

His eyes were wide in recognition as tears started streaming down his face and Azriel clicked his tongue. He pulled out another ordinary dagger from his array of weapons and stabbed it in his thigh.

Then he placed Truth–Teller on his face and set to work.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

She groaned as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and stretched her hand out in search of her mate's warm body. But all she came across were cold sheets.

She was confused as she sat up and looked around for any indication of where he might be. He would have left a note if he was going for work. Maybe he was in the kitchen.

So she got up and waddled down the stairs, hunting for her mate. But she couldn't find him anywhere in their home.

Where was he?

Just then, she heard the front door opening and she rushed to meet Azriel. She had already expected him to be out, and he had returned now. Maybe he'd been running some errands.

What she hadn't expected was for him to be covered in blood.

"Cauldron boil me! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She asked, trying to usher him into the bathing room.

"What makes you think I'm hurt?" He raised an eyebrow.

She faltered. "Well, first of all, you look like you just took a swim in a pool of blood. Forgive me for expecting the worst." She began turning on faucets and filling the tub for him, adding oils into it before turning to him. Hurt or not, he would want to take a bath.

"I could have been doing my Spymaster things." He said, stripping and stepping into the water, sighing.

"Whenever you leave for work, you leave a note. Where were you, Azzie?"

"Just having some fun." When she continued to glare at him, he finally told her. "Hunting down bastards." She raised a brow. "Second in Command. Orvyn."

Her eyes widened. "What did you do to him?" He ignored her. "What did you do Azriel?"

So he told her everything in detail, so much so that she wanted to gag even as pride surged in her for her amazing mate. When he finished, he stood and toweled off, coming to stand in front of her.

She sighed. "Don't you think this could strain the already fragile relations between Night and Autumn? Beron could decide to attack–"

He grasped her jaw and tilted her head back as he leaned closer. "Y/n, I do not care about any of that."

"Are you sure? I remember you saying that you would do anything for this Court."

"Night Court is important for me, but not as much as you and your happiness. The whole of Prythian could go to hell if it meant you would be happy. Just say the word and I'd set the world on fire for you, my love."

Wetness gathered in her eyes and she furiously swiped at them. He pulled her hands away, smiling softly. "I don't want to cry." She choked out. He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around him so tight she wondered if he would choke.

But he didn't do anything other than hug her back just as fiercely.

And finally, after all these years, Y/n felt like she was safe. Nothing could hurt her as long as she had her mate.

And she couldn't ask for anything more.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @eos-princess

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historiaxvanserra · 1 year

Note

would you be interested in writng some nsfw headcanons for Rhys/Cassian/Azriel & maybe Lucien/Eris?

Carnal | NSFW Headcanons

thank you for the request lovely anon! apologies in advance for how dirty this got.

kind of left out the Rhys headcanons because (unpopular opinion) I think he's kind of boring to write about and I still haven't gotten over the character assassination in acosf.

Cassian

Cass is the most ADVENTUROUS of the bat boys-- he'll try anything once.

He is most definitely a switch! this man loves a little role reversal now and again because seeing you order him around is HOT.

SIZE!FUCKING!KINK! this man is huge! he's tall, he's broad and he's ALL muscle-- he loves how small you look under him and it makes him feel good knowing that he can protect.

Cassian is so impatient so he's NOT good at being teased. He gets so frustrated when you tease him over dinner and he can't just take you right there.

EXHIBITIONISM! Cassian likes the thrill of getting caught, likes people to know what he does to you-- what you do to him.

He's so LOUD! we're talking grunting, moaning, GROWLING! this man is shamelessly vocal and you love it.

He's not much of a dirty talker rather than when he is praising you and the occasional 'you feel so good, baby' 'you're so fucking tight' 'look so pretty takin' my cock'

This man WORSHIPS your hips-- always grabbing them, squeezing them and leaving impressions of his fingertips, marking you as his.

Cassian most definitely indulges in a little cum play. Dipping a finger into your tightness and pushing his orgasm back into you. bringing his fingers to your mouth and moaning as you take his fingers into your pursed lips and sucking.

He's a CUDDLER-- you best believe when he has had his way with you he'll cuddle you until you both fall asleep, whispering praise in your eyes and running a hand through your hair.

Azriel

Canonically the most 'kinky' of the bat!boys but that doesn't even BEGIN to cover it. He also has the highest sex drive.

He's 1000% a hard dom with the very occasional soft side.

BRAT!TAMER!AZRIEL!-- there is nothing Azriel enjoys more than a challenge, and there is pleasure in breaking someone who wants to be broken by him.

He's also the biggest TEASE-- he takes his time teasing you until you're practically begging him to do something. It starts with brushing his fingers over yours, taking your chin in his firm grip, and evolves into whispering sin into your ears at the dinner table and ends with his fingers ghosting the skin of your inner thigh under the table.

WING PLAY!!! Azriel rarely lets himself be the submissive but he's a sucker when it comes to you touching his wings-- he practically melts into your touch until he is brought to his knees.

This beautiful man has the FILTHIEST mouth. He's not vocal in the same sense as Cass, rather he just talks and it's just pure filth. in the very best way of course.

Az is a GIVER plain and simple-- it brings him more pleasure to see you reduced to a mindless mess under his deft touch than you can even begin to imagine.

That being said one of his favourite stress relievers is a good old-fashioned throatfuck-- the mere thought of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock is enough to nearly send him over the edge.

MARKS!EVERYWHERE!-- everyone knows he is possessive but Azriel marks you as his so much that you permanently wear reminders of his love on your skin. bruises, hickeys, BITES. you name it.

SPIT KINK?! Absolutely. It drives him wild to see you open your mouth for him as he fucks you at a punishing pace.

AFTERCARE KING!! Obviously. you don't get involved in the bedroom activities that Azriel does without also indulging in top-quality aftercare. He'll help you into a warm bath, bring you water and snacks, and after taking you to bed, wrap you in his strong arms and whispers his praises in your ears. For all Azriel is a rough fuck he takes pride in showering you with affection after and letting you know how much he truly loves you.

Eris

ANGRY SEX!!! this man, let me tell you, deep down he is angry. angry at the world and the family he was born into. you are the only good thing in his life and sometimes he enjoys taking his frustrations out with you. not that you mind.

Eris is angry but he is also PASSIONATE-- the other males fuck. he makes love.

COCK WARMING! he's a busy man. he's a newly appointed High Lord and has a lot to work to attend to but nothing brings him more pride than watching and feeling you squirm on his cock waiting patiently for him to finish his work.

SPANKING!! in his heart, he's a disciplinarian and if you've done something he deems needs punishing he is more than happy to oblige.

sensory deprivation is something he likes to experiment with-- feathers, blindfolds, bindings. he both gives and takes in this area of the bedroom.

Eris likes nothing more than fucking under the sky, in the open air, in the dirt. it's primal and base and it's mindblowing.

He's a definitely missionary man! he likes to pin you under him, pushing your legs to rest on his shoulders, kissing you deeply with every thrust and watching your pretty face as pleasure washes over it.

he gets off on the idea of corrupting you. when you met you weren't the most experienced lover and he just loves that it is him that touches you like no one else ever has. that it is him who turned you from innocence to sin.

BREEDING KINK! need i say more? the thought of filling you with his cum and seeing your stomach swell with his child makes his heart pound violently in his chest and he just goes feral.

PRAISE KINK!? on days when he feels like more of a lover than a fighter, his words are filled with reverence and devotion as he makes love to you under the stars.

Lucien

BLOWJOBS! Lucien is a big fan and you happily oblige by sinking to your knees for him. He gathers your hair in your hands and throws his head back in pure ecstasy.

Oral in general really. he would happily live between your thighs coaxing multiple orgasms out of you until you're begging him to stop.

OVERSIMULATION! he gets drunk on hearing you desperately moan his name over and over until they come out as pathetic sobs and even the slightest touch sends you reeling over the edge.

Lucien could look at you all day he particularly likes looking at you when he is buried inside you and he likes making you look too so MIRROR SEX!

He's absolutely a boob man, he'll take your breasts in his firm grip, kneading them roughly or caressing them, leaving kisses in the valley of your breast or sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

Coincidentally this is why he loves to have you on top. he lays flat on his back watching as your breasts move in rhythm with you grinding on his cock.

his favourite type of sex is absolutely makeup sex! the pair of you bicker over the silliest things but you always make it up to each other with wild, rough make-up sex that upsets the neighbours.

Lucien is the gentlest lover of all the boys-- he doesn't want to hurt you in any way and wants to WORSHIP YOU instead. He's all about telling you everything he loves about your body, kissing you from head to toe, his hands gliding along your curves and squeezing lightly in all the right places. He's such a soft!boy

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lovemyromance · 1 month

Text

Things I would love to see in the next ACOTAR book:

The sisters mending their relationship

Rhys & Elain’s friendship

Elain, Nuala & Cerriweden friendship

Elain exploring her Seer powers

Elain the Spy (not torture and interrogate spy, like charming circles in ballrooms, the woman you’d least suspect)

“You came for me.” - Azriel

Elain proving she’s got a backbone of steel

Sweet Elriel garden moments

Amren & Az helping Elain train her powers

Elain & Lucien friendship

Vassien crumbs! A “be happy, Lucien” from Elain would be chef’s kiss 🤌🏼🤌🏼

Dusk Court?

Truthteller + Elain

People being so shocked when Elain shows her power / snaps

Sweet, sweet desperate elriel pining

Az snapping and having a “I burn for you” bridgerton moment 😭😭 “I cannot stay away”

Elain’s charm and beauty bringing people to their knees 🤩🤩

Elain saving the day, once again, as the person you’d least expect it from

Elriel baking/gardening moments

Elriel choosing each other

Elriel as Carranam?

Elriel marriage ceremony

Hand kisses

Dancing in the garden, under the cover of the night

Kissing in the rain

“Sssh, they’ll hear you, sweetheart.”

Bossy Elain

Elain meeting Azriel’s mom in Rosehall, and his mom being immediately enamored with our flower girl

Playing footsie under the dining table

Sly touching and brushing of their fingers

Drama, angst, desperation!!

I love them sm, I really hope their book delivers and satisfies this obsession 😭😭 After ACOSF, I want a LOVE story so badly. I want that Elriel all-consuming love!

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #acotar #elain

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emilystheories · 4 months

Text

The Bryce and Azriel theory.

Matching weapons, ancient prophecies, dusk, and true equals.

Before you scroll away or block (which I totally understand if you do anyway - you are entitled to curate your own experience on here!), please note that I am not trying to convert anyone to this ship. I am fully aware that most people in the fandom are in favour of Gwynriel, Elriel, Elucien, and/or Quinlar, and I 100% respect those preferences.

I am also not saying this is canon, or will be canon - it's a theory. However, I very rarely (if ever) see people correctly talk about the actual evidence for the Bryce x Az pairing, especially when they're mocking it as nothing more than a 'crackship.' Given the sheer size of this post (and the fact that it took me weeks to put together), it's no surprise that I disagree with such a sentiment.

Feel free to form your own opinion on the matter; I only ask that you keep an open mind. And if that's not possible, then at the very least, I hope this is still an entertaining read, as it breaks down a sizeable chunk of the SJM multiverse.

(So, evidently: SJM universe spoilers ahead).

[art by Gabrielle Ragusi].

To begin: Bryce's connections to dusk.

Throughout both Crescent City books, Bryce is repeatedly connected to dusk. For example:

Bryce's scent is of dusk.

One of the first things Hunt notices about Bryce is that her scent is of the "first stars at nightfall." Nightfall is another word for dusk. This is important, as SJM often uses scent to foreshadow a character's true home (e.g. Rowan's scent being of Terrasen).

"She's here," Hunt said. The scent of her still lingering on the sidewalk, lilac and nutmeg and something he couldn't quite place - like the gleam of the first stars at nightfall."

Bryce is repeatedly associated with dusk imagery.

For example, Bryce often has her nails painted in "twilight" colours (again, another word for dusk), and even her damn nipples are described as being "dusk rose."

"She examined her nails, now painted in some sort of color gradient that went from pink to periwinkle tips. Like the sky at twilight."

Bryce is obsessed with pegasuses and unicorns (which originated from the Dusk Court).

Bryce has been obsessed with pegasus dolls (i.e. Jelly Jubilee!) since book 1; they are iconic to her character. In fact, there is a unicorn-pegasus hidden on the cover of every Crescent City book (see image below).

It's then no coincidence that the pegasuses in Prythian came from the Prison Island... the Dusk Court.

"According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon—"

"Dusk's Truth"

The entirety of Crescent City 2 centred around "Dusk's Truth," which was confirmed to be about the Dusk Court. This logically implies that dusk (and the Dusk Court) is a pivotal aspect of Bryce's storyline.

This is also why I believe that Bryce's entrance into Prythian isn't just a fun cameo, nor a brief, temporary visit (as many seem to believe) -- instead, all roads point to dusk.

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae … A land of Dusk." “Dusk’s Truth,” Bryce breathed. It wasn’t just the name of this room that Danika had been talking about with Sofie."

Bryce is also connected to Prythian.

As much as people try to deny this (for reasons I still don't understand), Bryce is strongly connected to the ACOTAR world, and this has been heavily foreshadowed all along. For example:

Bryce is the true owner of Gwydion; the High King of Prythian's sword.

Crescent City 2 makes clear that Bryce is the true owner of the Starsword (or Gwydion, as it is known in the ACOTAR world).

"He snarled. "The sword belongs to Theia's female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line."

But, this isn't just any sword - it's the sword of the first and only High King of Prythian.

In ACOSF, Amren states that Rhys could use Nesta's "made" swords to set himself up as High King. So, what does that mean for Bryce, who owns the real deal?

“But you, Rhysand, are not.” Amren nodded to the still-rotating weapons. “With these three blades, you could make yourself High King.”

Bryce literally glows for Prythian.

Bryce possesses a star on her chest that is a "beacon" to Prythian; its purpose is to guide people home to the ACOTAR world.

As such, Bryce literally glows and lights up for Prythian. Not Midgard. Prythian.

"The star on your chest - do you know what that is?" "Let's assume I know nothing," Bryce said grimly. Rigelus inclined his head. "It's a beacon to the world from which the Fae originally came."

Bryce possesses the exact starlight of Theia; the rightful queen of the Starborn fae in Prythian.

The star inside of Bryce's chest is that of Queen Theia's. Bryce's starlight is Theia's starlight. It's even suggested that Bryce possesses the same powers that Theia once did (though, she hasn't yet accessed said powers). It's for this reason that many believe that Bryce is the reincarnation of Queen Theia.

“I thought Theia’s light was forever extinguished.” “So did I. I thought they’d made sure she and her power died on that last battlefield under Prince Pelias’s blade.” His eyes glowed with ancient rage. “But Bryce Quinlan bears her light.”

But Theia wasn't just any old queen. Instead, she was the queen of the Starborn fae in Prythian (with it being hinted that she once ruled the Dusk Court).

As such, I find it hard to believe that the land (and the Cauldron) won't recognise this; that Theia (Bryce) has come home at last.

“I remember the last Starborn Queen, Theia, and her powers.” He seemed to shudder."

[art by AnaSebag].

Putting two and two together; Bryce is likely the future High Lady of the Dusk Court.

At the end of CC2, Rigelus confirmed that Bryce's bloodline - the Starborn fae - not only originated from Prythian, but specifically lived in a "land of dusk."

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae... A land of Dusk."

Putting all the clues together across both the ACOTAR and CC books, this is likely in reference to the Dusk Court. ACOTAR readers will know this as the Prison Island (which was suggested to be the "eighth court").

"Rhys told me once that this island might have even been an eighth court.”

In linking with this, when Nesta visits the Prison Island (Dusk Court) in ACOSF, she senses that "something great" had once existed here, but seemingly vanished. However, she then states that the land "still waited for it to return." Many agree that this is in reference to Bryce and the Starborn fae.

"The very land seemed abandoned. Like something great had once existed here and then vanished. Like the land still waited for it to return."

However, now that Bryce has indeed returned to the Dusk Court (or is about to in CC3); I believe that her presence will awaken the Dusk Court once more, and what was vanished, will return.

As foreshadowing of this, recall this scene in CC1:

"The gentle illumination danced on Bryce’s hair as she ambled down the stone path, night-blooming flowers opening around her. Jasmine lay heavy in the twilight air, sweet and beckoning." "Bryce didn’t flinch as he dropped into step beside her. “I wanted some fresh air.” She admired an unfurling fern, its fronds lit from within to illuminate every vein." "She continued past beds of night crocuses, their purple petals shimmering amid the vibrant moss. The garden seemed to awaken for her, welcome her."

Bryce is walking through a garden. As she continues walking, flowers open around her, and ferns unfurl in her presence. Hunt remarks that it's as if the garden "seemed to awaken" for Bryce.

And the kicker is; as this was happening, Bryce was walking though the "twilight air." This scene occurred during dusk.

Let's also not forget that the star on Bryce's chest is that of an eight-pointed star; the symbol of the Starborn fae (the same symbol engraved on the Prison Island floor, as shown in ACOSF). As a comparison, that's like Rhys having the Night Court insignia branded on his chest... it's rather overt foreshadowing.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s new.” Indeed, just visible down the V-neck of her T-shirt, a white splotch—an eight-pointed star—now scarred the place between her breasts."

Combined with the fact that Bryce is the heir to the Starborn fae, that she possesses Queen Theia's starlight, that she glows for Prythian, and that even her scent is of dusk... there's no one better suited (and heavily foreshadowed) to rule the Dusk Court, than Bryce Quinlan.

"Homecoming."

As we know, Bryce has now just arrived in the true home world of her people: Prythian.

"An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae... A land of Dusk."

The instance of returning back home is known as a "homecoming."

"Homecoming" [noun]: an instance of returning home. (e.g. "she spent most of the day preparing for her husband's homecoming.")

And, that's exactly what SJM (curiously) labelled this image on her Pinterest board for Bryce.

Many believe this image to look like Bryce and Azriel (especially when SJM could have labelled it "Bryce and Hunt," which she happily did for the other photos on her CC Pinterest board...), and thus, the Bryce x Azriel theory begins.

The knife and the sword.

In the first Crescent City book, we are told of an ancient fae prophecy; "when knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be."

"It's another of the Fae's countless inane prophecies," Bryce muttered. "When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be." "It's literally carved above the Fae Archives entrance - whatever the fuck it means," Ruhn said."

We now know that this prophecy is referring to Azriel's knife (Truth-Teller) and Bryce's sword (the Starsword). Keep in mind that SJM could have connected this prophecy to any number of characters, but she specifically chose Bryce and Azriel.

Additionally, we are also told that the knife and sword need to stay together in order to activate their full powers. Given the importance of these weapons in defeating the Asteri/Daglan, this suggests that Bryce and Azriel will also need to stay together in some capacity.

"Ruhn shook his head. "The sword doesn't work like that. Aside from being picky about who draws it, the sword has no power without the knife."

[art by itswibell_art]

Azriel as Starborn.

The Starsword (Gwydion) is a Starborn weapon, as only those with enough Starborn blood can wield it.

"Ruhn shook his head. "The sword doesn't work like that. Aside from being picky about who draws it, the sword has no power without the knife."

Given that Truth-Teller is the twin to the Starsword, this suggests that the knife is also a Starborn weapon. And, the fact that Azriel can wield it, implies that he too is Starborn (or at least connected in some capacity).

This is further substantiated in CC2, in which we learn that the Starborn fae aren't just those with starlight powers, but shadow powers too. This was confirmed by Cormac, who stated that the ability to wield shadows (and teleport through them) was once a gift of the Starborn fae.

"But Hunt didn't so much as sniff as he asked Cormac, "Where did you inherit the ability from?" Cormac squared his shoulders, ever inch the proud prince as he said, "It was once a gift of the Starborn. It was the reason I became so... focused on attaining the Starsword."

In fact, Cormac believed that because he could teleport using his shadows, this was an indication that the Starborn bloodline had resurfaced in him. However, this wasn't true; he had "some Starborn blood," but not enough to be "worthy of the blade."

"I thought my ability to teleport meant that the bloodline had resurfaced in me, as I've never met anyone else who can do it." His eyes guttered as he added, "As you know, I was wrong. Some Starborn blood, apparently, but not enough to be worthy of the blade."

But, do you know who can also use their shadows to teleport...? Azriel.

And, do you know who else has been "deemed worthy" and can wield a "Starborn blade" (i.e. Truth-Teller)? Azriel.

[art by cludi_a_]

Bryce + Azriel = Dusk Court.

The crux of this theory is that with their matching weapons and connections to the Starborn narrative, Bryce and Azriel represent the two halves of the Dusk Court.

This is because dusk is the crossover between the light and the dark.

This is further exemplified by SJM's own definition of dusk, as seen in Throne of Glass:

"Nightfall. That was when Maeve had told Erawan to meet. That liminal space between light and dark, when one force yielded to another."

As such, Bryce is light, and Azriel is dark. This is evidenced by their powers:

Bryce's power is pure starlight.

Azriel's power is pure shadows (in comparison to other characters, who have shadow powers + something else).

Further, and perhaps most importantly; Bryce and Azriel's weapons also symbolise this same dusk imagery:

Bryce's sword (the Starsword), glows with a GLITTERING, WHITE LIGHT (as if symbolising starlight).

Azriel's knife (Truth-Teller), glows with a DARK LIGHT (as if symbolising shadows).

"It was its twin. The Starsword began to hum within its sheath, glittering white light leaking from where leather met the dark hilt. The dagger - The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light."

Bryce (starlight) + Azriel (shadows) = Dusk.

And I mean, look at that dusk imagery on the CC3 cover (when the previous two covers were just solid red and black...).

(I'll also point out that the sword and knife are featured on this cover, with the knife right over the woman's heart...)

Alpha and Omega.

Further, Bryce's sword and Azriel's knife - together - is described as "Alpha and Omega."

"The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer. Alpha and Omega."

This term means "the beginning and the end."

"Alpha and Omega" [noun]: "the beginning and ending."

Which, is also a term that SJM often uses to describe love, or mated couples. For example, Feyre and Rhys:

"and saw and smelled that bond between us, until our scents merged, and I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and the middle and the end."

And this quote here, from Throne of Glass:

"She would find that love again—one day. And it would be deep and unrelenting and unexpected, the beginning and the end and eternity, the kind that could change history, change the world."

Additionally, when the weapons are finally together at the end of CC2, it's said that Azriel's knife glowed "in answer" to Bryce's sword.

"The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer."

They are matching halves.

Bryce and Azriel as rulers.

Given everything mentioned thus far, I believe that Bryce and Azriel are destined to become the High Lady and High Lord of the Dusk Court.

But, I actually think it goes one step further than this, and it has to do with Bryce's likely rule as High Queen of Prythian. As proof of this:

SJM is drawing from Arthurian mythology, and Bryce is King Arthur.

Throughout both Crescent City books, there are a number of nods to Arthurian mythology. Most obviously is Avallen Island (where Cormac lives), which is likely inspired by the renowned Avalon Island.

In fact, Ruhn retrieving the Starsword from the Avallen caves (and being "deemed worthy" to "pull the sword from its sheath") seemingly parallels King Arthur being deemed worthy of the famous sword, Excalibur, and thus being able to pull the sword from the stone.

"That your son, not you, stood among the long-dead Starborn Princes asleep in their sarcophagi and was deemed worthy to pull the sword from its sheath."

However, as mentioned previously; CC2 makes very clear that the Starsword belongs to Theia's "female heir." The Starsword belongs to Bryce.

As such, I believe that in this series, King Arthur is actually represented by Bryce. And, as further proof of this, consider Rigelus's words at the end of CC2; that Bryce's star glows for those she chooses as her "knights."

"It also glows for those who you choose as your loyal companions. Knights."

Just like King Arthur's own knights; the famed Knights of the Round Table.

King Arthur was the High King of Great Britain. And, Prythian is in the shape of Great Britain.

Putting two and two together, could this suggest that Bryce will become the High Queen of Prythian?

2. Bryce has the High King's sword.

As mentioned previously, Bryce is the true owner of the Starsword (Gwydion). The same sword that the High King of Prythian once wielded long ago. That alone is heavy foreshadowing.

3. Bryce is repeatedly foreshadowed as a queen.

For example, Hunt often notices Bryce's queenly demeanour:

"She spoke with the imperiousness of a queen. Hunt could only rise with her."

And even the contact name for Bryce in Hunt's phone is "Bryce Is a Queen."

Ruhn also implores Bryce to become queen:

"But you have to live, Bryce. You have to be queen."

To which Cormac agrees, stating that the decision to lead their people forward, will be up to Bryce:

"But after today..." Cormac's words grew heavy. Weary. "I think the choice about whether to lead our people forward will be up to you now."

Additionally, SJM often uses the phrase "lifted their chin" when someone is signifying their authority (e.g. "she lifted her chin, every inch the queen"). Then when Bryce meets Feyre and Rhys, the same term is used:

"So Bryce addressed the two of them as she lifted her chin. “My name is Bryce Quinlan.”

And most of all, is Ruhn's final words to Bryce:

"Her brother pulled away. And Ruhn said, shining with pride, “Long live the queen.”

(Speaking of Ruhn, recall his prophecy from the Oracle; that the royal bloodline ends with him. Considering that he is connected to both the Valbaran and Avallen royal houses, this suggests that there won't be any 'queen positions' left for Bryce to take in Midgard. But, there might be in Prythian...)

4. Bryce has Queen Theia's starlight (and likely her same powers).

Again, as mentioned previously, Theia ruled in Prythian (with some even believing that she was High Queen).

If it's bloodline alone that determines who would be High King/Queen (as Amren appears to suggest in ACOSF), then again, as Bryce is the true heir to the Starborn fae, placing her at spot #1.

5. Bryce glows for the ACOTAR world.

The star in Bryce's chest glows for Prythian. She is a beacon for Prythian. That's queen symbolism right there.

6. Bryce is a main character.

It is a well-known fact that all of SJM's leading ladies rise to power; Aelin as Queen of Terrasen, and Feyre as High Lady of the Night Court.

And, although I have heard some solid theories suggesting that Rhys or Lucien may become High King... it's also a well-known fact that SJM loves a female ruler (especially when Prythian is already so overly patriarchal).

Bryce, however, would be perfect.

[art by Gabrielle Ragusi]

7. Lastly, and perhaps the most important of all: Bryce is foreshadowed to unite the worlds.

Notably, the last High King (Fionn) rose to power because he united the people of Prythian.

"A millennium of peace followed, and the lands were divided into rough territories that were the precursors to the courts—but at the end of those thousand years, they were at each other’s throats, on the brink of war.” His face tightened. “Fionn unified them and set himself above them as High King. The first and only High King this land has ever had.”

Bryce is foreshadowed to do the same, as per that same ancient fae prophecy; "when knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be" (and, this is where Azriel comes in).

Although this prophecy can be interpreted in a variety of ways, I believe it to mean that Bryce and Azriel will reunite the Starborn fae, lost across two worlds (Midgard and Prythian). A unification of people... just as Fionn once achieved.

Now, it is theorised that Bryce and Azriel will continue this legacy, as High Queen and High King. In doing so:

Bryce will represent the Midgardian fae, Azriel will represent the Prythian fae.

Bryce will represent starlight, Azriel will represent shadows. Light and dark. Dusk.

Together, Bryce and Azriel are two halves of whole. Alongside their weapons - which are also matching halves - you can't get anymore equal than that.

As mates are supposed to be.

A common rebuttal to this theory, however, is the belief that Azriel "doesn't have what it takes" to become a High Lord or a High King -- that he is inferior to other contenders (such as the likes of Feyre and Rhys).

Yet, I'd argue that the one character who could match up to Feyre and Rhys (and has foreshadowing hinting as such; power-wise)... would be Azriel. For example:

With Feyre (ACOSF):

“Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

With Rhys (ACOFAS):

“And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?” Az didn’t answer. I held his gaze, though. Held that ice-cold stare that still sometimes scared the shit out of me."

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.” I straightened at the pure order in the words."

Az nodded knowingly. He’d always understood me best—more than the others. Save my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I’d never learned.

With Rhys (ACOSF; the bonus chapter):

"Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it."

Similarly, it is also argued that Azriel would "never leave the Night Court." Yet, take it from Azriel himself; that he too is not sure where he truly fits in.

"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore,” I admitted, perhaps only because the wind was screeching around us and Rhys had already winnowed ahead to where Cassian’s dark form flew—beyond the wall. “I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I’m not sure of that, either,” Azriel said."

Combined with Azriel's disdain for the Illyrians and their culture (and the fact that when Az refers to the Illyrians, he will often say "they/them" as opposed to "we/us"...) could it be that something else is in store for Azriel's future?

Especially when we know Azriel has always been so curious about what lies beyond...

"At the far end of the room, a little dais led into a broad raised alcove flanked by more books—and in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it, and some other fancy things that had been explained to Cassian once before he deemed them boring and proceeded to ignore them completely. Az, of course, had been fascinated."

Bryce and Azriel's beast forms.

If Bryce and Azriel are indeed set to become High Lady and High Lord of the Dusk Court, then they will presumably possess beast forms.

To expand on this, in a recent Marie Claire interview (August 2023), SJM stated that her favourite place to write is her desk, where she's surrounded by the things that remind her of the current book she's writing.

SJM: "I like to write at my desk, where I'm surrounded by lots of little items that remind me of either the book I'm writing, or things that just make me happy."

SJM then mentioned that when writing House of Flame and Shadow, she kept a vintage My Little Pony pegasus figure that was the inspiration for Jelly Jubilee.

SJM: "While writing House of Flame and Shadow, for instance, I had a vintage My Little Pony figure with me that was the inspiration for Bryce's beloved Jelly Jubilee!"

Then, when SJM announced the title of Crescent City 3, we were offered a glimpse of her desk, and sure enough - that vintage My Little Pony figure is right there.

But most importantly, this tells us that the items featured in this video aren't just random, but are instead (part of) the inspiration for House of Flame and Shadow.

Which then begs the question; what is the Godzilla toy hinting at? Well, the only connection I have been able to make... is to Azriel.

As proof of this, recall that in ACOMAF, Azriel's Siphon is described as being the "great eye" of a "half-slumbering beast" from a "frozen wasteland."

"I watched the light shift inside the sapphire Siphon instead, as if it were the great eye of some half-slumbering beast from a frozen wasteland."

This description matches Godzilla almost perfectly; who is an ancient monster, often slumbering at the bottom of the ocean, and also often frozen within ice.

And, if Azriel's Siphons are supposed to be reminiscent of the "great eye" of this beast, then it's perhaps no coincidence that Godzilla is famed for his blue, glowing eyes.

Similarly, Godzilla's atomic breath manifests as blue fire (which is what you can see coming out of the mouth of SJM's own Godzilla toy).

Coincidentally (or perhaps not), Azriel - and specifically his Siphons - are repeatedly described as blue flame.

"The shadows deepened around Ariel, his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire."

"Azriel caught his eye. Rhys nodded. The Siphons atop his scarred hands flickered like rippling blue fire as he reached for the Attor."

"Illyrian lines buckled. Azriel sailed closer and closer to them, Siphons trailing tendrils of blue flame in his wake."

In linking with this, I have also theorised that Bryce has a beast form, and that hers will be a unicorn-pegasus (as outlandish as that may sound, it's one of my most well-received theories; link here).

Thus, I believe that the pegasus and Godzilla toys on SJM's desk in the CC3 reveal video, are symbolic of Bryce and Azriel.

Bryce and Azriel meeting for the first time.

When CC2 first came out, people started shipping Bryce and Azriel based on their first interaction alone. Some even noted that Azriel acted in a particularly uncharacteristic manner towards Bryce; he touched her repeatedly, and seemingly showed more emotion (or rather, a lack of composure) than what is usual. For example:

"He hissed, and then a strong hand clamped on her shoulder, hauling her up and twisting her to face him."

"The male’s hands were gentle but thorough as he fitted it tightly over her eyes."

"He set her down, taking her by the hand."

"He caught her, and sighed. She could have sworn he sounded … exasperated. He gave no warning as he hauled her over a shoulder and tromped down a set of stairs."

(It is argued that this is because Bryce is a danger/threat; but if that was true, then why would Azriel take Bryce to the townhouse?)

To me, the last line is the most significant. Azriel is usually calm and collected. He is polite and respectful towards women. Yet within only a couple of minutes, he is already frustrated and "exasperated" with Bryce, and he immediately chucks her over his shoulder.

[art by Paint Faery]

And speaking of parallels to other couples, Azriel and Bryce meeting for the first time seemingly shares many parallels with Feyre and Rhys meeting for this first time:

As well as parallels to Elide and Lorcan meeting for the first time:

And although this is more of a fun tidbit (one I acknowledge is definitely a reach), it's interesting that in ACOSF, we are told that mating ceremonies are commemorated using black ribbons.

"But all that mattered, she realized, was the male who would be standing with her, first as they swore their vows, then as they offered each other food, and then as their friends and family bound their hands together with a length of black ribbon, to remain until the mating was consummated.

Then, this is what Azriel does as soon as he meets Bryce...

[art by witchlingsart]

It's also interesting to note that when SJM was asked about her "favourite part" of HOSAB (in an interview with Entertainment Today), she answered the "penultimate chapter," where "a lot of major things come together for Bryce."

Interviewer: "What is your favorite part of House of Sky and Breath?" SJM: "The penultimate chapter - where a lot of major things come together for Bryce!"

SJM is referring to the very chapter mentioned above; when Bryce meets Azriel and the Inner Circle.

Bryce was "yanked" into Prythian.

Speaking of the penultimate chapter of HOSAB (and the events leading up to it), we know that Bryce originally intended to travel to Hel. However, her journey to the underworld was interrupted, as Bryce was instead "yank[ed]" into Prythian.

"It was the last sound Bryce heard as the darkness within the Gate swallowed her whole. She fell, slowly and without end—and sideways. Not a plunge down, but a yank across."

The definition of "yank," is pull, or tug. And, it is a word frequently used when SJM is describing the mating bond. For example, with Feyre and Rhys:

"No sign of him. No pound of beating wings. But the tug yanked again in my mind, my gut - a summoning. Like some servant's bell."

As such, fans of the Bryce x Az ship often speculate that Bryce was "yanked" into Prythian, right at Azriel's feet, because of their (yet to be discovered) mating bond.

Mor and Azriel = Bryce and Azriel.

It is widely accepted in the fandom that SJM initially intended for Mor and Azriel to be endgame (before changing this in ACOWAR). Not only is this because of the way Mor and Azriel interact in ACOMAF, but SJM's Pinterest board also strongly hinted at their pairing, for example:

With this in mind, consider that whenever Azriel's shadows were around Mor in ACOMAF (when they were likely supposed to be endgame), they lightened and faded in her presence.

"It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor's body."

"Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her presence."

Curiously, in the final chapter of CC2, Bryce doesn't mention Azriel's shadows once (when in comparison, she always noticed Ruhn and Cormac's shadows...). As such, could it be that Azriel's shadows lighten and fade in Bryce's presence?

Consider also these points connecting Mor/Azriel to Bryce/Azriel:

In ACOMAF, it's mentioned that Mor's family once ruled the Prison Island. However, we now know that the Prison Island is most strongly connected to Bryce; the Dusk Court.

In ACOMAF, we learn that Azriel's knife is called "Truth-Teller." Many speculate that this was also evidence of Mor and Azriel being endgame (as his knife was "Truth-Teller," and Mor has the power of "Truth"). However, now Truth-Teller is connected to Bryce and the Starsword.

Additionally, if we know that SJM once believed Mor and Azriel to be compatible, then it's worth noting how similar Mor and Bryce are:

Both Mor and Bryce have very similar personalities. In fact, if you're into MBTI (and are familiar with Personality Database), you'll note that both Mor and Bryce are said have the ESFP personality type.

Both Mor and Bryce are physically described in the exact same way. An example of this is outlined below:

"[Mor] wore a gown of pure white, little more than a slip of silk that showed off her generous curves. Indeed, a glance over her shoulder revealed Azriel staring blatantly at the back view of it, Cassian and the stranger already too deep in conversation to notice what had drawn the spymaster's attention. For a moment, the ravenous hunger on Azriel's face made my stomach tighten."

"Bryce Quinlan leaned against the large ironwood desk in the center of the space, her snow-white dress clinging to every generous curve and dip."

Although these comparisons in itself aren't a slam dunk of any sort (as evidently, Azriel is attracted to lots of different body types/people/personalities), I just can't help but wonder if SJM did a copy + paste with Mor and Bryce for this very reason...?

[art by mftfernandez and wictorian_art]

Speaking of personalities...

Although Bryce and Azriel have only interacted for a single chapter (yet are already causing waves with that alone!), some readers have been contemplating their (potential) compatibility.

More specifically, it appears that Bryce frequently mirrors Azriel's dark and cold demeanour. For example:

"The sprite crawled off her arm and floated in front of her, arms wrapping across her round belly. "You can be cold as a Reaper, Bryce."

"Bryce said quietly, her amber eyes full of cold fire, "I'll find them." She met the Archangel's gaze. "And then I want you to wipe them off the fucking planet."

"Bryce's face remained cold as stone. Colder. Males approached, saw that expression, and didn't venture closer."

"The last gift of the synth before it destroyed her. Yet in her eyes. ... he saw no haze of insanity, of self-destructive frenzy. Only cold, glittering vengeance."

"That icy look—their father’s look—passed over her face. The sort of look that told him there was a wild, wicked storm raging beneath that cold exterior. And the power and thrill for both father and daughter lay not in sheer force, but in the control over the self, over those impulses. The outside world saw his sister as reckless, unchecked—but he knew she’d been the master of her fate since before he’d met her."

In line with this, there have been frequent discussions within the fandom that Azriel needs "healing" or "curing" from his darkness; that he needs to "change his ways." But, what if instead, Azriel needs someone who can match, and embrace his darkness?

And what if that person is Bryce?

(Speaking of 'embracing the darkness,' I find it interesting that Azriel "is a freak," as confirmed by SJM herself. With that in mind, let me remind you that upon first meeting Bryce, Azriel put a knife to her throat and then blindfolded her...).

[art by brielyasmin]

The Little Mermaid: a hint to Bryce and Az?

I know this is a popular Gwynriel theory (with extremely valid evidence to support it!), which is exactly why I haven't spoken about this connection before, as I don't want to offend anyone.

However, I am going to briefly mention it (only once) right now, and suggest that The Little Mermaid retelling SJM has alluded to, may in fact be Bryce and Azriel.

To first demonstrate this: there are several similarities between Bryce and Ariel (the mermaid).

Bryce and Ariel both have red hair (in comparison, Gwyn is canonically more of a brunette, with "coppery-brown" hair).

Ariel's story is about her journey from life underwater, to life in the human lands (where she meets Eric). Bryce's story involves her journey from Midgard, to Prythian (where she meets Azriel).

However, upon arriving in the human lands, Ariel's voice has been stolen; she cannot communicate with Eric. Similarly, Bryce arrives in Prythian and does not speak their language; she cannot communicate with Azriel.

In Ariel's story, the main antagonist is Ursula, a witch. Bryce also knows (a rather suspicious) witch... Jesiba.

[art by Morgana0anagrom]

Further, many in the fandom have already pointed out that SJM saved a variety of 'The Little Mermaid' inspired photos to her Pinterest. However, SJM specifically saved these photos under a Pinterest board titled "Story Kernels," meaning that we have no idea whether it's in reference to ACOTAR, CC or both (or neither!)

Some believe these photos to be reminiscent of Gwyn, but, when you compare these photos to the Pinterest images SJM saved of Bryce... the resemblance is most certainly there as well.

However, some may argue that "Bryce has no real link to mermaids" (in comparison to Gwyn, who has water-nymph heritage; though, that's different from being a mermaid as well).

But I disagree. Recall that in CC2, Bryce seems to rely on other people to "charge up" her power (such as Hunt and Hypaxia). However, I don't believe that is the true manifestation of her abilities. Instead, Bryce hints that she can feel a "giant cloud" of power inside her, one that she can't yet access.

"Bryce sucked in a sharp breath. “I can feel it—like, this giant cloud of power right there.” She ran a finger over the eight-pointed star scarred between her breasts. Starlight pulsed at her fingertip. Like an answering heartbeat. “But I can’t access it.”

The bulk of Bryce's power came from the Gates in Lunathion. Power that was donated by thousands (perhaps even hundreds of thousands) of different beings every time they touched the Gates. And given that the civilians of Midgard herald from different worlds... the variety of this power is staggering.

And it's exactly this power that I believe Bryce can feel (as the "giant cloud") but can't yet access. The evidence for this is engraved into the Gates themselves; "the power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city." Just as Bryce did.

"The quartz Gates were memorials, though she didn’t know for which conflict or war. But each bore the same plaque: The power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city."

As such, I believe Bryce's true power is that of the four houses of Midgard; she is Earth & Blood, Sky & Breath, Flame & Shadow, and Many Waters. It's similar to Feyre's power (but x 100).

(And, look again at the cover of CC3 and tell me it doesn't align perfectly with this...)

We even see this in canon when Bryce is making the Drop (after obtaining the power from the Gates):

"But his princess fought for every bit of progress upward, her power shifting, traces of everyone who’d given it to her coming through: mer, shifter, draki, human, angel, sprite, Fae."

"She was sea and sky and stone and blood and wings and earth and stars and darkness and light and bone and flame."

Thus, I believe a good chunk of Bryce's arc in CC3 will be about unlocking this power. And when she does... she will have access to the power of House of Many Waters (the highlighted quotes above emphasise this).

There's even a section of Bryce's ascent (during the Drop) where she thrusts upwards with a "mighty tail." I believe this is a mermaid tail.

"Her power shifted, dancing between forms and gifts. She thrust upward with a push of a mighty tail. Twisted and rose with a sweep of vast wings. She was all things—and yet herself."

And to tie the 'Little Mermaid = Bryce x Az' connections together even further; what's the likely title of the next Crescent City book?

House of Many Waters.

(And as a bonus fun fact: recall that the items on SJM's desk seemingly hint to the inspiration behind HOFAS? Zoom in and you'll see a Little Mermaid cup...).

Hades and Persephone too!

If you scroll back up to the Pinterest photo SJM saved as Mor and Az and reverse-image search it, you'll discover that it's actually an image of Hades and Persephone.

(So no, Feyre and Rhys weren't the only couple inspired by Hades and Persephone).

Similarly, the above Little Mermaid inspired photo that SJM saved (top left)? Also of Hades and Persephone.

The story of Persephone is that of a woman who once lived on Earth and was taken to the underworld. There, she eventually fell in love with Hades, the ruler of the underworld.

[Hades and Persephone art by oblivionsdream; it's giving Bryce and Az...]

Similarly, the final chapters of CC2 detailed Bryce's decision to use the Horn, and travel to Hel; the underworld. In doing so, she was taken to Azriel; someone who is heavily theorised to be a Prince of Hel (or connected to Hel, at the very least). As evidence of this:

The Princes of Hel are repeatedly connected to the cold. For example, when Apollion reaches out to touch Bryce, it's said that his touch was like "ice so cold it ached."

"[Apollion] reached out a hand, and Bryce flinched as it touched her. Truly touched her, ice so cold it ached."

Then Feyre touches Azriel for the first time, it's said that his skin was like "pure ice." (The similarities are uncanny!).

"But my attention drifted to Azriel, who took my still-offered hand and rose. The scars were rough against my fingers, but his skin was like ice. Pure ice."

However, this isn't the only instance. Instead, Azriel is repeatedly and consistently linked to being cold/icy/frozen. For example:

"I took Azriel’s hand, and his rough fingers squeezed mine. His skin was as cold as his face."

"There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw."

"Azriel’s dark breeze was different from Rhys’s. Colder. Sharper

"Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him."

We also know that Azriel is "different," and that even Rhys has "no explanation" for Azriel's shadowsinger abilities.

"Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning.

"Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from."

Thus, if Azriel is indeed connected to Hel (a storyline far more prevalent in the Crescent City series than the ACOTAR series, by the way), then one could logically assume that his mate will also be someone connected to Hel.

Who do Hel's armies strike for? Bryce.

“Hel’s armies shall strike at your command, Bryce Quinlan.”

Who has Aidas (the 5th Prince of Hel) been watching over? Bryce.

"The cat’s whiskers twitched. I told you. Come find me. Her eyelids drooped—a final descent toward sleep. Why? The cat angled its head. So we can finish this."

Who is Apollion's (the 7th Prince of Hel) "greatest opponent?" Bryce.

I also find it interesting that when they meet, Apollion refers to Bryce as "Princess," and Bryce refers to Apollion as "Prince." I understand that Bryce is the Princess of the Valbaran fae, but the way they spoke in this scene felt more like Apollion and Bryce were on equal footing...

“Princess.” The voice was like Hel embodied: dark and icy and smooth.” “Prince.” Her voice shook.”

Many people in the fandom have been theorising that Prythian (and the broader ACOTAR world) is a layer of Hel. Could it be a missing 8th layer?

And if so, if Bryce and Azriel are set to rule Prythian (as High Queen and High King, as per this theory), wouldn't this make them both also Princess and Prince of the 8th layer of Hel? Ruling from the Dusk Court... the 8th court? Signified by an 8-pointed star?

(This is ultimately why I ship Bryce and Azriel: their epic story potential is unlike anything we've seen before).

As further proof of this, recall the connections between Bryce and Theia (with many believing that Bryce is a reincarnation of Theia). Although Theia's backstory is still shrouded in mystery, at present we can deduce that:

Theia lived in Prythian, and had two daughters with an unknown man.

She then travelled to another world; Midgard (unwillingly), and allied with the Princes of Hel.

She was then said to have a relationship with Aidas, a Prince of Hel (as she was said to be Aidas's "great love").

(Fun fact: Aidas is another name for Hades).

Compare to Bryce:

Bryce lives in Midgard, and is currently with Hunt.

She then travels to another world; Prythian (unwillingly), in search of the Princes of Hel.

As per this theory, she will have a relationship with Azriel, a (theorised) Prince of Hel.

History is repeating. Rigelus even notes the similarities himself:

"Rigelus sighed dramatically at their stunned silence. “This all seems very familiar, doesn’t it? A Starborn queen who allied with a Prince of Hel."

Twilight of the Gods: SJM's multiverse series?

"But Bryce won't forget about Hunt!"

"She's not going to skip off into the sunset with Azriel in just one book! All of this is too much!"

I agree. I don't believe any huge shipping revelations will be made in CC3.

Instead, things will be much more tame to begin with. Perhaps Az will be the one to guide Bryce around Prythian (and they'll figure out their matching weapons, and the origins of the Dusk Court - both together, and alongside other pivotal ACOTAR characters). I believe Bryce and Az will develop a friendship, and that will be all (sort of like Aelin and Rowan, and their dynamic in Heir of Fire).

(That's not to diminish the significance of their interactions, though. If this theory is correct, then Bryce's POV may be the first to include Azriel at the forefront - no other character within the Azriel ship wars has had this opportunity yet).

Then, if Bryce and Azriel are indeed true mates and endgame, then I think that will be explored further down the line in what I predict will be SJM's multiverse series; Twilight of the Gods (which, as per the latest SJM publishing news, seems to be looking veryyyy likely; more information here).

"Twilight" is also another name for DUSK. Given everything I have already discussed, I am sure you can see how I believe that Bryce and Azriel's story (if they are indeed endgame) will be explored in this series - Twilight of the Gods (if it does indeed come to fruition).

Interestingly, both the Crescent City and Twilight of the Gods Pinterest boards are full of Sailor Moon imagery, and it appears as if Bryce (and her powers) have also been modelled after Sailor Moon herself. Knowing this, this image (which was also found in the Twilight of the Gods Pinterest board) is particularly interesting...

The sword? The multiverse-esque aesthetic?

This is fundamentally what the Bryce x Azriel ship comes down to: the promise and intrigue of a multiversal romance.

And don't you think SJM has considered this too? I find it hard to believe that SJM (the queen of fantasy romance) spent 5+ years planning out a crossover between her worlds, and didn't once stop to think about the possibility of a multiversal romantic pairing.

I mean, even back in 2015 SJM admitted to thinking about "crossover fanfic" with her own characters...

Moderator: "So, speaking of fandoms, different fandoms, um obviously you have ACOTAR, which is different from the TOG series. If both worlds could collide, which two characters would get on really well?"

SJM: <giggling>

Moderator: "Get on really well, not get it on really well" (laughs).

SJM: (laughs) "In my head I already have like, crossover fanfic (laughs). Like, is it fanfic if I'm writing it, or is it ultimate universe, canon things?

So, knowing all of this... why pair Bryce and Azriel together?

Most people in the fandom agree that Bryce and Azriel are connected in some way. I'm hoping that this post has made clear this connection even further.

But here's the thing: if we can all agree that Bryce and Azriel are connected, then why? What's the reason? And why not connect Bryce with other characters instead? Why Azriel specifically?

The two explanations I have heard are:

"Bryce and Azriel are cousins/related."

We already have the Ruhn and Rhys reveal, so why add another? I also don't see how Azriel could be related to Ember Quinlan or the Autumn King... (I also feel like Bryce's descriptions of Azriel's "tall, muscled body" and "gentle but thorough hands" is a lil weird for cousins...)

"Bryce and Azriel will be just friends."

Whilst I don't deny the likelihood of this, I also think that Bryce has the potential to become close friends with Nesta, Rhys, Feyre, Mor, Cassian (and many of the other characters). "Just friends" still wouldn't explain why SJM chose Azriel over everyone else (for example; why not make the prophecy around the Horn in Bryce's back and the remaining 3 Dread Trove items that Nesta can wield...?)

Instead, whenever there has been this much build-up or this much foreshadowing of a pairing... it's usually a sign that they are something special. Something more akin to mates - endgame.

[art by m_bohnet]

After all, consider things from Azriel's POV.

Sure, he has been busy with Mor and Elain and Gwyn (as people often tell me in response to this theory), but what happens when a beautiful woman from another world shows up, carrying the matching sword to his most prized knife? What happens when these weapons start glowing for one another in unison?

Don't you think Azriel would think something of this?

And, don't you think that if Elain or Gwyn had a sword that was the matching half to Azriel's knife (and a significant prophecy to boot!), it would be used as irrefutable evidence that their ship is endgame...?

But what about Hunt?

It's an opinion that earns me no favours in the fandom; but despite liking Hunt, I have always been sceptical about his relationship with Bryce (and am not yet convinced that they'll be endgame). This scepticism predates CC2 (and isn't just a feeling I conjured up in the hope that Bryce x Az will be endgame, as certain people assume).

For starters, both the Asteri and Apollion need Hunt and Bryce together to operate the Horn, and this is concerning.

To put it simply, Hunt was bred (for reasons we still don't yet know). However, as a result of Hunt's breeding, he possesses power that works with the Horn. In fact, CC2 makes clear that Hunt's lightning is the best source of power to "charge up" Bryce (and more specifically, the Horn).

“Your teleporting works when your power gets charged up by energy—considering what I heard about how quickly you ran out of steam with Hypaxia, Hunt’s is the best form of it.”

Bryce has the Horn in her back.

“Don’t think for one moment that Aidas and the Prince of the Pit have forgotten the Horn in your back. That Thanatos didn’t have it in mind when you spoke to him.”

To explain it in simple math terms:

Bryce + Hunt = fully operational Horn (they are like lock + key).

Apollion + Rigelus = both really want the Horn.

Apollion + Rigelus NEED Bryce + Hunt if they want a fully operational Horn.

In fact, we see Apollion egging Bryce and Hunt on to explore their powers more, and Rigelus fully admits to luring Bryce and Hunt to the Asteri palace at the end of CC2.

"Hunt’s blood iced over. “That was why you lured us here?” he found himself demanding of the Asteri, even as he roared with outrage at Bryce’s offer. Rigelus said, “I couldn’t very well snatch you off the streets. Not such notorious, public figures."

What's more, Bryce killed Micah, and Hunt killed Sandriel. The Asteri have punished (and killed) civilians for far less than that, but not only do the Asteri keep Bryce and Hunt alive, but they actively encourage their relationship together (and no one really questions that...).

"We also trust that this favor will serve as a reminder for you and Hunt Athalar. It is our deepest wish that you remain in the city, and live out your days in peace and contentment." "Fear gleamed in Hunt’s eyes. In her own, too, Bryce was sure. Nothing was ever this easy—this simple. There had to be a catch."

I just can't help but think of Maeve. She used her power to manipulate fate, leading Rowan to believe that Lyria was his mate instead of Aelin (for her own selfish gain).

Could it be possible that the Asteri, just like Maeve, have been... meddling with mating bonds for their own agenda - to use Bryce and Hunt for the Horn?

(Recall that in her latest interview, when asked if Bryce and Hunt's mating bond was the same as Feyre and Rhys's, SJM said "pass").

This leads to my second point.

The mating bond is a little strange between Bryce and Hunt.

I know this is a contentious subject, but there are enough people in the fandom who have stated a similar opinion for it to warrant suspicion. No one ever questions Rhys and Feyre's mating bond, nor Nesta or Cassian's, nor Aelin and Rowan's. But many don't buy Bryce and Hunt's mating bond.

In part, this is likely due to the nature of how it was initiated; after only knowing each other for 5 months, Hunt suggested calling each other mates because they couldn't find another term that fits. It happened randomly, and Bryce seemed to come up with a million different excuses initially; it just felt lacklustre in comparison to other mating bond reveals.

(That's not to invalidate Bryce and Hunt's clear affection for each other though - mating bond or not, their love for one another is more than evident).

“I thought that’s what this thing between us is.” “We’ve known each other for, like, five months.” “So?” “My mom will throw a fit. She’ll say we should date for at least two years before calling ourselves mates.”

But for me personally, it comes down to Bryce and Hunt's power (and the Horn). Again, using Throne of Glass as an example, when Maeve messed with Rowan's mating bond, she admitted that she didn't suspect Rowan and Aelin were mates once they met, because their carranam bond (which involves the sharing of power, as Bryce and Hunt do...) was masking the mating bond.

"I’ll admit I did not anticipate it. That I had broken Rowan Whitethorn so thoroughly that he did not recognize his own mate—that you were so broken by your own pain you didn’t notice, either. And when the signs appeared, the carranam bond washed away any suspicion on his part that you might be his."

Instead, the only indication that Aelin and Rowan were mates, was that they could feel each other's pain.

"Maeve ignored her. “Well? When did you know?” “At Temis’s temple,” Aelin admitted, glancing to Manon. “The moment the arrow went through his shoulder. Months ago.”

This is objectively absent in Bryce and Hunt. Not only that, but in the Bone Quarter, Bryce seems to question the validity of the mating bond herself:

"Hunt's lightning had stopped. Where was he? Would a mate know, would a mate feel-"

Which again, you have to wonder; if SJM is trying to sell Bryce x Hunt as endgame to her readers, why include this?

Further, even if Bryce and Hunt are mates, we don't yet know how this works across worlds. Given that the Cauldron (supposedly) assigns mating bonds in Prythian, and Bryce's "true world" is also Prythian, does Bryce have an additional Cauldron-assigned mating bond in that world too...?

Maybe that aligns with this tweet from SJM:

The Oracle.

In CC1, Hunt visits the Oracle, and she tells him to "keep well away from Bryce Quinlan."

"Do yourself a favour, Orion Athalar, and keep well away from Bryce Quinlan."

The Oracle could presumably see into Hunt's future, and could see whether he and Bryce live happily ever after. If this was the case, and the Oracle could indeed see such a happy outcome, then why would the Oracle say such a thing...? Why warn Hunt like that?

Similarly in CC1, Aidas reveals to Bryce that although the Oracle was blinded during her visit all those years ago... he wasn't. Aidas was there too, and he saw Bryce's future.

"Aidas had nearly vanished into nothing when he added, the words a ghost slithering through the room, "The Oracle did not see. But I did."

Yet in that exact same scene, Aidas turns to Hunt and has no idea who he is, asking "who are you?"

Hunt kept perfectly still as Aidas studied her. Then his eyes registered Hunt. He blinked—once. As if he had not really marked his presence until this moment. As if he hadn’t cared to notice, with Bryce before him. Hunt tucked away that fact, just as Aidas murmured, “Who are you.”

Thus, if Aidas has seen Bryce's future, and Bryce and Hunt are indeed endgame (and he is in her future)... then why didn't Aidas recognise Hunt?

Hunt's future.

If this theory is correct, and given that we have two beings with foresight (the Oracle and Aidas) hinting at Bryce and Hunt's ominous future... then what could possibly happen to Hunt

Theory 1) Hunt may die.

This theory has been around even since the HOEAB days, and is well-known by most (so I won't expand on it too much). However, the basic premise of it boils down to Hunt's birth name, Orion, and Orion being famously killed (often by his lover) in mythology. Perhaps this also explains the Oracle's warning to him.

Recall also the quote repeated again and again (often by Hunt);

"Memento Mori. Remember that you will die. They now seemed more of a promise than the mild reminder from the Meat Market."

Similarly, knowing what happened to Sam in Throne of Glass, I find this parallel to Bryce and Hunt a little uncanny (and is exactly what we mean when we talk about death flags...).

[Sam and Aelin]: "I can wait," he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. "We have all the time in the world." Maybe he was right. And spending all the time in the world with Sam ... that was a treasure worth paying anything for."

[Bryce and Hunt]: "Assuming I live through it, you mean." "Assuming you live through taking on the Archangels and Asteri, what then?" "I don't know." He gave her a half smile. "Maybe you and I can figure it out, Quinlan. We'll have centuries to do it."

2. Hunt may become an Asteri weapon; an (unwilling) villain.

In fact, it has recently been theorised (such as in this post here) that Hunt may already have acted as an Asteri weapon in the past, and may have even had a part to play in Danika's death. As unbelievable as this may sound, consider these two quotes.

In HOEAB, Hunt remarks that his victims always said the same words; "please."

“Please.” It was always the same word. The only word people tended to say when the Umbra Mortis stood before them.

Then, this is the only audio we hear of Danika right before she dies:

"And then someone was roaring—a feral wolf’s roar. “Please, please—” The words were cut off. But the hall camera’s audio wasn’t."

To that people would say "Hunt would never!" And rightly so. However, consider that:

Hunt didn't know Bryce when this occurred.

Hunt was already tasked with killing one of Bryce's friends; Fury. Twice. The only reason it didn't happen was because someone higher up halted the orders.

"Micah had even ordered Hunt to kill her. Twice. But she had too many high-powered allies. Some, it was whispered, on the Imperial Senate. So both times, Micah had decided that the fallout over the Umbra Mortis turning Fury Axtar into veritable toast would be more trouble than it was worth."

However, regardless of whether this theory is true or not (as sure, perhaps the wording could be coincidence), one cannot deny the connection between the names of Hunt (Orion) and the Asteri; all named after stars and/or constellations.

In fact, Sirius (the 7th Asteri), is known as Orion's hunting dog in mythology.

And Rigel (as in Rigelus), is the brightest star in the Orion constellation.

Consider also Rigelus's words to Hunt; "I thought we were friends, Orion," and something just seems... off.

(Though, I'd be happy to be proven wrong, as Hunt is one of my favourite SJM males. Just because I think an awful thing could happen, doesn't mean I want it to happen).

What about Gwynriel/Elriel?

Another topic that I won't touch on in too much depth, as I'm sure that most people are already familiar with the points for and against these ships.

The only thing I will say is that things change. What ships appear to be canon or strongly foreshadowed in one book can totally change in the next. SJM has said as much herself (as outlined in the FAQ section on her personal website):

"Will [my favourite couple] be endgame?" "No spoilers! In all seriousness, while I do have ideas for all my currently contracted books, I would never guarantee any plot points or pairings until each book is written. I've been surprised by where characters have taken me before!"

But we also know this is true based on the Throne of Glass ship wars that raged on back in the day. If we were to time-travel back to 2012 and 2013 (when the first two TOG books were released), we'd see people arguing as to whether Aelin (Celeana) would end up with Chaol or Dorian. There was no third option.

And then in the third book, Rowan was introduced. But even then people denied the possibility of his romance with Aelin, instead siding with Chaol, with arguments such as:

"Rowan already has a mate!"

"Rowan and Aelin are probably just related and nothing more!"

"Rowan and Aelin are from two different kingdoms, it would never work. Chaol is back home in Rifthold waiting for her!"

(Sound familiar...?)

It was also argued that Chaol and Aelin would be endgame instead, given the mate-adjacent language that was used between them:

"Far inside of her, she found a golden chain that bound them together."

"The rest of the world quieted... she looked at him and realised she was home."

"She knew his every move and he knew hers, as though they'd been dancing this waltz together all their lives."

"It somehow felt as if it had always been Chaol, even from the beginning, even before they'd ever met."

But nope -- in the third book, Aelin stumbled into a foreign land and came face to face with Rowan; her true, fated mate.

In fact, this speaks to a certain SJM pattern I have noticed:

Aelin is forced to leave Rifthold for Wendlyn (oh no!)... but then she meets Rowan.

Chaol and Nesryn are forced to leave Rifthold for the Southern Continent (oh no!)... but then they meet Yrene and Sartaq.

Feyre is forced to leave the Spring Court for the Night Court (oh no!)... but then she meets Rhys.

Nesta is forced to leave the human lands for the faerie lands (oh no!)... but then she meets Cassian.

Now, Bryce has been forced to leave Midgard for Prythian (oh no!)... and she falls right in front of Azriel. He "gently" blindfolds her, grabs her hand, chucks her over his shoulder, and their matching weapons start glowing "in answer" to each other... and this is supposedly just a crackship?

And I get it; there's already Bryce and Hunt. And Azriel and Gwyn. And Azriel and Elain. However, I do think it's interesting that at present, the two biggest debates within the fandom are:

Are Bryce and Hunt truly mates/endgame?

Will Gwynriel or Elriel be endgame?

If any of these ships were a slam-dunk guarantee... these debates just simply wouldn't exist. Point is, with SJM (and especially with the multiverse opening up)... the possibilities are endless.

And, the promise of Bryce and Azriel is just one of these possibilities, but it's my favourite one of all.

After all, stars cannot shine without darkness.

(P.S. Some of these points were first identified by my friends - so credit and a huge thank you to them! ❤️)

#acotar #crescent city #bryce quinlan #azriel acotar #sjm multiverse #sjm theory #sjm crossover #bryce x azriel #bryceriel

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azsazz · 2 years

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Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from @reliablyhann : from chapter 3 of ACOSF – "He and his brothers had put a good deal of distance between the stupid youths they'd been – fucking any female who showed interest, often in the same room as each other – and the males they were now."

Warnings: Smut!

Word Count: 2,232

Notes: And last but certainly not least...daddy Azzy's POV 🥵

[Cassian] [Rhysand]

_________________________________________

You rouse from your slumber with a drowsy hum but your eyes shoot open when you hear a debauched moan coming from somewhere behind you. You startle, hand reaching out for the male in bed beside you. Azriel is covering your exposed ear with one hand, trying to muffle the sounds that have woken you anyways.

He has his eyes squeezed shut, and you’d think Azriel was asleep if it weren’t for him biting his lip and teasing his own stiff cock beneath the sheets.

Your mouth goes dry as you watch the gorgeous male next to you, his mouth falling open as he releases a shaky breath and you have to clench your legs together as you’re reminded of earlier in the night when he’d made that exact face, though he’d been a little more vocal at the time.

You’re sure you know exactly what’s happening due to the lewd sounds of muffled moans and skin slapping against skin sounds through the room.

You watch him for a few moments longer, how his half exposed chest heaves with a particularly swift twist of his wrist, his disheveled hair falling across his brow. How generous he was to try and let you sleep while his brothers have all the fun.

Your hand finds his under the sheets and he startles slightly, hazel eyes wide as he turns to look at you. It’s too dark to see but you know he has a light dusting of pink tinting the apples of his cheeks.

Batting his hand away you take over and he chokes on his words, pressing his head harshly into the pillow. The hand still covering your ear slides down, brushing across your cheek before he wraps it around the nape of your neck, pulling you into him for a feverish kiss.

“What’s going on?” you murmur against his lips. The hand that he had on himself caresses your thigh and you spread your legs for him as he rolls up onto his side for a better angle. He trails his fingers across your cunt, smirking at the wetness he finds there – whether it’s from his own seed earlier or your current arousal he doesn’t care – dipping a few fingers inside of you that makes your grip on his cock squeeze and falter.

He groans at the feeling, can’t help himself but to kiss you before he responds, “Take a guess.”

You haven’t gotten a good look at what’s happening behind you and a surge of jealousy shoots through the shadowsinger as you turn to see, his hand gripping your chin in a firm yet gentle hold, forcing you to meet his gaze. You see a flicker of something in those glowing hazel eyes, insecurity maybe, but why should he be? He is the most gorgeous male you’ve ever laid eyes on. Surely he doesn’t think that you’d see his friends and hop into bed with one of them instead?

“Don’t worry,” you speak softly, reassuringly, the sensual lilt to your voice and your fingers trailing down his spine nearly have him trembling over you, “You’re the only brooding Illyrian for me.”

He puffs out a breath of laughter that has your heart jumping in your chest. That smile is like a reward and you need to taste it, stretching up to meet his mouth as Azriel settles over you, moving his fingers inside of you with a bit more intention now.

You hum against his lips, body arching off of the bed into his. It’s hot, every rippling muscle of his pressed up against your skin, his scent consuming your every gasp for air as he circles your clit with precision for the second time tonight.

“Look then,” he rasps when he pulls away in favor of kissing the swallow of your throat. You muse his hair between your fingers, craning your neck back in bliss. “But for every second you’re looking at them is one second longer that you won’t be getting my cock.”

You whine as his lips trail down your body. This male…Gods does he know how to make your body thrum with need.

You don’t even stifle your cry as his tongue dives straight into your cunt, the sound mixing with two other moans in a crescendo of lust. His golden eyes stay locked on yours and it’s nearly too much for a minute; him eating you out like he’d been starved of it for years while his hazel eyes captivate you.

He smirks as he removes his mouth, trailing kisses across your thigh when your eyes shift across the room.

Your lock gazes with Cassian’s powerful form from where he’s kneeling behind the most petite Illyrian female you’ve ever seen. You try to mask your horror at the sight of her taking his enormous cock and Azriel helps because he’s licking a stripe up your cunt, causing your head to melt back into the pillow below you.

“Azriel…please,” you whine, writhing when he parts from you again, trying to urge him forward by tugging lightly on that silky, ink black hair of his. He tuts but doesn’t budge, tracing patterns into the soft skin of your thigh with his tongue.

It’s fucking terrible, being baited like this when you’re so aroused. You feel as though you’re already on edge, with the moans, grunts, and pleasured noises filling the room, the smell of feral lust is overwhelming in itself.

His hand snakes around your throat, tenderly, but there’s a slight firmness to it that has your eyes rolling back into your head as he rises from his between your legs. Azriel hums disapprovingly as he settles against you, grinding his hips against yours, his prick rubbing against your soaked core teasingly.

“You heard what I said, right (Y/N)? I don’t think I need to repeat myself.” His voice is low, reverberating through your bones and you groan weakly, letting the twitch of his fingers around your throat cut off the sound.

You can feel eyes on you as you stare up at the shadowsinger and he can see you weighing your options, a shadow alerting him to the male watching. Check to see who is looking at you only for him to pull away from where he’s still grinding against you, or keep looking up at this beautiful male and have his cock inside of you for the second time tonight.

You don’t dare look away.

“Good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with a kiss that leaves you dizzy for more.

He still takes his time, even though your hands are clawing at his skin, his hips, desperately, and he loves seeing you like this, mewling and begging for his cock.

And maybe it’s because his brothers are in the room, that he feels the need to show you off, what he can do to you. Azriel’s powerful wings spread wide, drawing the attention of the two Illyrians in the beds flanking the other walls as he removes his hand from around your throat and sheaths himself fully inside of you.

The shameless noise you release as he does so coils in his brothers’ guts, hips stuttering to a stop as they watch you take his cock like it’s your lifeline.

Even the females that they’re with react to your sounds. The one Cassian is with clenches around him and he chokes, didn’t think her taut little cunt could get any tighter. And Rhysand’s partner for the night, hand slipping down to rub feverous circles around her own clit, eyes glued to the male that looks like an angel of death.

You don’t give a damn if they’re watching or listening or whatever–all you care about is Azriel as he pounds into you like he was bred for it, the male’s shadows swirling around his wings. It should terrify you, but they only add to your arousal as he uses them to snake across your body, trailing the path his warm hands are making, the cold whisps soothing, goosebumps forming in their wake.

And he could just let his shadows veil the two of you in darkness, he’d done it before, but he likes the game the two of you are playing. How you test him by disobeying and in return he tests you by pausing his antics. It’s hard to force himself to stop but its so fucking fun watching you beg for him.

Hooking his hand beneath your knee, he folds your leg up into your chest so that he can piston into you at a different angle.

You curse with pleasure and Azriel’s there to taste it rolling off of your tongue, mouth hot against yours before he places a rough kiss to your cheek, lips dragging across your jaw to suck a mark there.

You grasp onto him, taking the chance while he’s occupied to sneak a glance at Rhys. He’s so close to his climax already but seeing the look on your face pushes him over the edge. Your fucked out face, lips swollen and glistening with sweat and spit as his brother marrs your neck with his teeth, the squeaks and gasps spilling from your lips so easily for Azriel has the heir coming with a gutteral moan.

Meeting his eyes was a mistake. How could you think that the infamous spymaster wouldn’t notice? His shadows slithering up and curling around his ear, whispering what a naughty little thing you are. His hips halt, fully pressed into you and tears burn your eyes as you release a frustrated cry as the orgasm you’ve been chasing ebbs away.

He pins your squirming body beneath his own when you try to get any sort of friction, his large hands clasped firmly around your own.

Azriel’s eyes are dark as he growls, “I’m beginning to think that you want them to see you, hear you. You’re getting off on it, aren’t you sweetheart?”

And all you can do is whimper, your pleading words escaping from your mouth with ease. You don’t even know what you’re saying, begging for as he watches with intrigue, gaze alight with fire.

“For Mother’s sake just give it to her Az,” Cassian grunts. He’s trying to focus on the female beneath him but your keening pleas are distracting him in the best way.

Azriel only smirks down at you.

His teeth graze over your nipple, soothing it with the flat of his tongue as he takes his time. He’s enjoying the way you’re raking your nails down the tanned skin of his back.

In a desperate attempt to get the male to start moving your fingers slip across the bridge of his extended wings. He shudders beneath your touch and you can feel the muscles of his strong body pull taut. He bucks into you in reaction.

He growls, ripping your hands away from his wings and pinning them up above your head with ease. They tuck up close to his back as Azriel growls low in your ear, a rumble that alerts the other two Illyrians in the room, raising the hair at the napes of their necks. They’re taught not to let anyone touch their wings, one of the most vulnerable parts of their bodies. But why did it feel so good?

He bites at your earlobe as he hums disapprovingly, a warning not to do that again. It’s paired with a shift of his hips that drags a moan from deep in your throat, a silent message to you that you’ll be exploring that more the second you’re alone.

Your hands slip from his, winding around his waist as he begins moving again, finally. He sucks the tear that has slipped from your eye, his own fingers burying in your soft, knotted hair, holding your face so he can kiss you feverishly as he bucks into you with fervor, the phantom feeling of your fingers on his wings spurring him on.

You try to slip a hand between the two of you but he shoves it away, instead his rough hands finding your neglected clit. You gasp into his mouth as he begins working you, the feeling of his cock inside of you and his fingers working you is euphoric.

Cassian groans erotically as he spills into the femle beneath him who comes with a shout of her own. Your body reacts to their noises, squirming with pleasure and you're so close to a climax of your own that you pray Azriel gives it to you.

And he does with a well planned flick of his fingers that has you careening over the edge into pure bliss. Your cunt clenches around his cock, nails biting into his tanned flesh as you release a sound that settles deep into his bones, spilling into you.

He peppers your face with soft pecks as he comes down, finally meeting your lips in a lazy yet passionate kiss, holding you close.

You love it when he’s like this, domineering and demanding in bed, but afterwards he’s as sweet and docile as ever.

“Fuck Az,” Cassian pants, his own chest heaving as he lies back in his bed, female tucked close to his side. “Is it weird that I want some of that action now?”

The room erupts into laughter, Azriel’s hazel eyes glowing as he gazes down at you, body vibrating with amusement.

No, this is only for you.

#azrielxreader #azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azsazz

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