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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

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If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing big in this one. Memory loss?? Overprotectiveness?? Azriel losing it (but not that much just yet)??

a/n: Hi this is going to be a series :) thank you for reading <3

Part 2 ♡

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist ♡

As you blinked through the haziness, a dull throb echoed along the base of your skull. You sat up abruptly, feeling rocks and twigs digging into the backs of your legs, and winced as several shouts attacked your senses. You recognized none of them.

Gods, your head hurt.

A few more blinks and the sun made an appearance, light assaulting your too-sensitive eyes. The leaves beneath your hands crunched and blew away in the balmy breeze, a few flecks of green still stuck to your palm as you brought it up to rub your head.

“Don’t,” a feminine voice warned, and it was then that you pinpointed one of the shouts from earlier. But it was warmer now, calm. “Don’t touch your head, y/n. Azriel and Cas are getting help.”

You scrunched your face up but obeyed the command, taking steady breaths to try and manage the pain. The woman in front of you—blonde hair, brown eyes, a fierce expression—was like no one you had ever seen before. She was so incredibly beautiful you weren’t sure if you were actually awake.

You took a pause.

And then another.

Who was the last person you had seen?

“Where am I?” you asked instead, trying to appear sane. Your voice sounded unfamiliar.

The woman’s expression pinched. “You’re in Spring Court. You remember that, don’t you? Rhysand sent us.”

“Rhysand?” you repeated, the name foreign on your tongue. “Sent us for what?”

“Well, we were supposed to be rallying Tamlin into re-fortifying his borders to win back the Summer Court’s good graces, but that beast is an idiot. Forging agreements with witches was quite possibly the worst move he could have made.”

“Witches?”

“I know, unbelievable,” the blonde ranted, sitting back on her heels beside you. “We came to help only to find out he had helped himself to the wicked. I knew he was distraught after Feyre, but to turn to this?”

The pounding in your head was making it increasingly difficult to follow the tale the woman was spinning. Perhaps if you had more backstory, more information, you would understand what she was talking about.

Desperate for that connection, you winced as you asked, “Um, not to offend, but… who are you?”

Her aggravated expression crumpled into one of shock and concern. Her mouth parted, her brows came together at a point, and then she shifted, bringing her hands to your shoulders. When you flinched at the touch, the woman pulled her hands back, her fingers curling into her palms. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked, trepidation lining her tone.

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as pain shot up your neck.

“Not at all?” she whispered. When your face remained blank, she pulled her hands into her lap. “Do you know who you are?”

Another lapse in silence.

“My Gods…”

Darkness materialized nearby—swirling darkness. It reminded you of shadows and brought you a sense of peace for the first time since you opened your eyes.

But then people started emerging from the darkness, taking up space in the vast forest, and that peace collapsed. Two large men with wings stomped against the twig-covered floor, causing a raucous disturbance as they began hurrying an older woman out from behind them. They both spoke in low, rushed tones and you wanted all the sound to stop.

You ignored the woman’s directions from before and squeezed your head in your hands, your eyes snapping shut. It didn’t work, and you hadn’t expected it to, but Gods did your head hurt. It hurt and it was plagued by an impossible pressure that wouldn’t seem to let up.

“Mor, how long has she been awake?” one of the men asked. You felt him kneel beside you, felt him place rough, textured hands on your wrists in an attempt to pry your hands down. But he was gentle—so very gentle.

“Azriel, she—”

“Mor, if you could move aside. I need to look at her,” a much older voice chimed in.

There was shuffling around you, new hands pressing to your face. You heard whispering that you couldn’t make out, and then the panic set in.

You didn’t know these people. When you first woke up, the disorientation was focal; you were concerned about the pounding in your head and your whereabouts and that was it. But there were so many people here now, and you didn’t know any of them.

You didn’t know who you were. Did they know who you were? They had to.

“Majda, stop. You’re scaring her,” the man beside you, Azriel you’d heard him be called, practically hissed.

Majda only hummed. “I am doing the job you brought me here to do. If I can’t work around a mating bond I will send you away, Shadowsinger.”

Your breath came out in faster huffs, each one deeper than the last. You opened your eyes to try and gain some footing in the situation, still keeping your hands glued to your head.

Your gaze went out before it went in, and you saw the blonde woman, Mor, beside a much larger man. His shoulder-length hair was messy and windswept, and he sent you a bittersweet, sympathetic smile that you couldn’t replicate. He watched with furrowed brows as your eyes darted from him, to Mor, to the wide forest around you.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take her home first,” the man standing by the trees grumbled. “She would be more comfortable there.”

“We didn’t want to move her with a head injury,” Azriel growled. “Not one from a witch.”

His voice sent your attention towards him. Azriel was on his knees beside you, holding your wrists with his thumb circling the back of your hand in delicate strokes. He was painfully beautiful and you were left to wonder, yet again, if you were truly awake. When your gazes met, something foreign pulled at your ribs and the pressure sent an unexpected scream past your lips. You hunched over in a panic, yanking yourself away from those beside you.

That wasn’t right. None of this felt right.

The older woman, Majda, cursed, staring after you as you pushed yourself further and further away. Each movement sent a new ache aflame in your head, but that didn’t stop you because you needed to get away. Your feet kicked up dirt and rocks and your hands tore with the effort but this wasn’t right.

Azriel reached you before you could hit the tree just inches from your back. He held your head in his own hands and locked you in his gaze, keeping you trapped in the yellows and browns and the flecks that joined them. He took exaggerated breaths, wings flared out to block out the sun, and then he began whispering.

It took a moment for you to understand the words, your heavy breaths mostly drowning them out.

Something swished in the distance. More whispering, more secrets.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

When Azriel’s voice finally came through, it was like a lifeline.

“I’m here, my love. You’re safe. I know it hurts, I know.”

It was odd, finding peace in a stranger. The shadows that seemed to dance around him swirled into shapes that framed your skin, and some of the panic felt foolish in their presence. They twisted and curved, somehow amplifying the cool tone of Azriel’s voice as he promised you things you had no capacity to understand.

But he never stopped talking, not even when your gaze left his to follow his shadows instead. If anything, the action seemed to spur on the small beings more, and you wondered—for a brief moment—if he was controlling them.

Something like amazement seeped into your panic as you whispered, “Who are you?”

You didn’t know the man in front of you, that much was true, but he looked so… broken at your words. Something akin to pain clashed with his beautiful features as his jaw clenched to an unnatural degree. You were surprised that his teeth didn’t crack beneath the pressure. You wondered what else he could withstand—what atrocities he’d seen to make his eyes turn so dark when you spoke your words out loud.

“No,” Azriel growled, chin hooking over his shoulder. His wings pulled back to reveal a new man, but this one looked slightly different from the others. No wings, different eyes. “You stay out of her head, Rhysand.”

Rhysand. He was the one that had sent you here.

The concern on Rhysand’s face looked unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. “Az, it could help. Let me help her.”

“You could make it worse. We have no idea what that witch did to her.” As Azriel spoke, shadows began to cover you more and more. Your sight became dim, your body camouflaged in darkness.

“Looking in could be the only way to figure that out.” The next bout of silence was uncomfortable. The pounding in your head persisted, exacerbating to the point of tears along your waterline. “I know what you’re feeling, Azriel. I get it. But I want to help her, brother. You know I would never hurt her.”

A twig snapped beneath a boot.

Azriel growled low in his chest.

The pounding gave way to a sharp pain, and it made your senses lighter, less focused.

You couldn't remember ever passing out before, but you thought it might feel like this.

“Stay away from her.”

“She doesn’t remember you, Azriel.”

A choked breath. “Don’t touch my mate.”

Darkness that surpassed the shadows finally granted you a reprieve from the pain.

Maybe you'd wake up and this would all make sense.

Part 2 ♡

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel angst

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highladyandromeda · 1 month

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Shadows of the Heart

Prologue

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

Y/n’s powers are inspired by Scarlet Witch from Marvel. She is a sorceress living in Vallahan, with her family hailing from the night court.

Word count: 1k-ish

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, but nothing particularly graphic

Azriel stood off to the side, quietly observing the cozy scene in the House of Wind's living room. There was Feyre, nestled comfortably on Rhys's lap, her giggles echoing softly as she leaned in to catch his whispered words. In the corner, Amren made an art out of lounging, a smirk playing on her lips as she peered over her wine glass. Cassian had wrapped an arm around Nesta, her head bent together with Gwen and Emerie, engrossed in a lively discussion about their latest read. The ambient buzz of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses filled with Rhys's impressive wine, created a backdrop of contented harmony.

Azriel tried his best to shove aside the twinge of jealousy that crept up on him, watching his brothers and their bliss. He didn't want to feel like just an onlooker, basking in the warmth of their happiness, yet here he was. His mind wandered to Elain, who had opted for an early night. Would her presence have allowed him to drift away from this feeling, to find solace in her gentle smiles and tender gazes? It seemed chasing fae after fae with hearts as bright as the sun was his lot in life. Yearning for a sliver of light in his shadowed existence, a beacon like Elain, or Mor, someone to take him out—that's when he noticed it—his shadows, usually so still, began to stir anxiously around him.

In danger, in danger, they whispered, urgency threading through their murmurs.

In pain. Falling, falling, the ones closest murmured, their voices escalating into a desperate shout.

Springing to his feet, Azriel scanned the room, brushing off the puzzled glances thrown his way. Then, a sharp thud echoed, quickly followed by a cry that cut through the relaxed chatter. In a heartbeat, he was dashing towards the balcony, with Rhys and Cassian hot on his heels, all three propelled by the sudden urgency to uncover the source of the disturbance that had just intruded upon their peaceful evening.

Bursting through the balcony doors, Azriel was met with a scene that defied all expectations. Chaotic runes smeared across the floor in hasty, overlapping strokes forming an intricate magical circle. At its heart lay two figures: a faerie kneeling, her skin so pale it shimmered with almost ethereal light, ebony locks sprawling untidily about her. Her eyes, aglow with an intense crimson, matching the runes surrounding her, pierced through the night. Dark stains marred her robes—wounds, he realized, still seeping blood from her arm and leg. She cradled Mor’s head in her lap, their gazes locking in a moment so profound, that Azriel felt the world around him come to a standstill. He swore he felt his heart stutter, a memory long forgotten trying to urge its way out. Mor, his attention snapped to, was equally pale, her lips tinged a sickly shade of blue.

“What did you do to–” Just as Azriel began, he saw the female look behind him, exclaiming, “Rhys!

“Y/n?” Rhys ran to her, his hands frantic, unsure of whether to hold her or lean for Mor.

“Rhys” She began again, her breaths coming out in spurts. She grabbed his hand as he leaned down to hold her, “Poison…she’s been poisoned, needs tonic–”

Barely finishing her sentence, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, Rhys’s hands halting her from hitting the floor.

“Call for Madja” Rhy yelled. “Mor’s been poisoned and perhaps Y/n as well.”

Before Azriel could react, Cassian stepped up, carefully lifting Mor, while Rhys carried Y/n, both moving swiftly back into the sanctuary of the house.

They found a bedroom with two twin beds, laying one on each.

Madja, a whirlwind of expertise, raced around both, focusing her skills on stabilizing Mor's precarious state. Meanwhile, Rhys was tasked with a grim duty, pressing down on Y/n's wounds, which despite the salves and a plethora of cloths, continued bleeding relentlessly.

"It's the runes," Amren interjected, her voice slicing through the turmoil like a blade. All eyes, save for Madja's, who momentarily lessened the fervor of her tonic mixing, turned to her.

"She utilized ancient magic," Amren stated, her declaration hanging in the air, dense with implications, yet devoid of further explanation, prompting Rhys to press for clarity.

"And that means?"

The urgency lacing Rhys's voice caught Azriel off-guard. Who was this female, who seemed so familiar and why was she so important to Rhys? He felt a spark of anger at the way Rhys held her, despite knowing Rhys's heart belonged to Feyre.

"It means she offered her blood as a sacrifice. Likely to transport herself and Mor here. Inspect Mor for runes," Amren directed without pause.

Before Amren's words could fully settle, Madja cut through the sleeves of Mor’s dress, revealing an arm ensnared by crimson runes, mirroring those that marred the balcony.

It was then that Azriel's senses sharpened, recognizing the scent that pervaded the air—a metallic tang he had initially overlooked in the chaos. Blood. Those runes, those symbols, all wrought from blood. Recollections of the massive circles they had traversed to enter this scene played back in his mind, causing his stomach to churn. It was reflected in Feyre's gasp as she rushed to aid Y/n, while Rhys was overtaken by a wave of nausea.

The room, already tense with fear and uncertainty, was engulfed in a silent horror as Madja's voice, though trembling, broke through the silence. "She's correct. The blood serves as an anchor for Morrigan's soul. The runes must bind Morrigan to..."

"Y/n's," Rhys provided, his voice steady in the thick silence.

"Yes, to Y/n's very essence," Madja concluded. "This means Y/n will continue to suffer, to bleed, until Morrigan shows signs of recovery. In exchange.”

A heavy silence settled over them, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of Madja grinding her herbs, as the gravity of their situation unfolded.

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Author's note: Hi everyone! I’ve been a lurker in the acotar fandom for ages, this is my first time writing, so do let me know what you think. I'm not totally sure how far I want to take this series, but I do have longer chapters planned ahead.

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar

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theweeklydiscourse · 2 months

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What Makes Feyre’s Pregnancy Plotline in A Court of Silver Flames so Upsetting?

The answer is that the events and outcome concerning Feyre’s pregnancy speak to a fear of one’s loss of autonomy, specifically one’s reproductive autonomy. Furthermore, this plotline demonstrates Maas' consistent prioritization of her male characters at the expense of her female characters. Multiple factors make this subplot feel particularly uncomfortable and upsetting, but I can condense them into three main points that converge to create one frustrating scenario.

1. Rhysand and the Question of Choice

From ACOMAF onwards, the reader is made aware of Rhysand’s unusually progressive politics and his attention to the autonomous choices of women. This is demonstrated through his selection of counsel, appointing Mor and Amren in roles of authority, and eventually crowing Feyre as High Lady of the Night Court. In addition to this, we are shown his emphasis on choice through his interactions with Feyre. Rhysand repeatedly reminds Feyre that she can choose, that she can make an autonomous decision that he will respect. So, it is these positive features of Rhysand that make the pregnancy subplot of ACOSF so disturbing.

He, and the Inner Circle by extension, purposefully omit the information that Feyre’s pregnancy will turn deadly and never volunteer the information to her. During Cassian’s meeting with Rhysand and Amren, we are shown their thought process behind withholding information from Nesta (and Feyre by extension) According to Amren, it is not lying because they are technically not telling lies in the traditional sense, only withholding information.

While this is about Nesta, the reader can see the parallels between both cases. The choice to lie by omission reveals that both Amren and Rhysand are aware of the dishonesty of their actions, choosing to mitigate it slightly on a technicality. It feels distinctly like a loophole in Rhysand’s previous promises to Feyre, making this act feel more deceitful while demonstrating Rhysand’s willingness to undermine Feyre’s authority as High Lady. If Rhysand had a condition or illness that would eventually kill him, informing him of it would be certain, you wouldn’t even consider the possibility of not telling him. However, because Feyre is pregnant, she is not afforded the same autonomy.

Wanting to keep Feyre in blissful ignorance is not a sufficient reason, especially when Feyre is still of sound mind and can advocate for herself. Rhysand’s reasoning sounds noble, but in reality, it is just benevolent sexism. It doesn’t matter if he thinks it will cause Feyre stress, she NEEDS to be aware of what’s going on and the fact that the news will ruin her peaceful pregnancy is of little consequence when her life is on the line. Rhysand prioritizes his feelings and implicitly gives himself executive authority over Feyre’s pregnancy, demonstrating his disregard for her autonomy and choices. This action directly contradicts the progressive beliefs Rhysand stated in previous books and is a betrayal for the reader as well as Feyre.

2. The Infantilization of Feyre

The omission of this critical information, good intentions or not, is based on a belief that Feyre would not be competent enough to handle such a pressing situation in her pregnant state. Amren claims that the stress and fear could have physically harmed Feyre, but such a claim assumes that Feyre would not have the fortitude or ability to handle the situation.

Amren's explanation demonstrates a belief that Feyre's input on the matter would be irrelevant and pointless because it prevents Feyre from offering any. It is a plan that assumes Feyre will not be able to add anything meaningful to the solution and that it would be less harmful to her if she was kept out of it. This is infantilizing and paternalistic because Feyre has proven herself to be capable of coping under pressure and happens to be an unprecedented magical anomaly. Feyre’s access to pertinent medical information should not be revoked and it is insane that Madja her physician, actively misleads her with Rhysand’s consent.

This infantilization of a pregnant character echoes how pregnant women have been infantilized throughout history. It is a terrifying thought to imagine that your bodily autonomy could be stripped from you in the name of serving your supposed best interest. Rosemary’s Baby is one of the most famous horror movies of all time and it explores this exact topic, the same is true for the short story The Yellow Wallpaper, both stories capture the horror of reproductive/medical abuse that still happens to women today.

3. The Aftermath & Prioritizing Male Rage

Lastly, one of the most disturbing elements of this subplot is the way the text consistently prioritizes and coddles the violent rage of male characters at the expense of female characters. This is on full display when Rhysand flies into an intense rage after Nesta reveals the truth to Feyre. Although Nesta can be faulted for her harsh phrasing, let it be known that even Feyre felt that she did the right thing and was expressing her anger at the paternalistic and unjust practices of the Inner Circle. However, Nesta is still subjected to severe physical and emotional punishment in the form of a grueling hike where she is left to stew in her guilt and suicidal ideation despite Feyre ultimately not faulting her.

Feyre admits that Rhysand “majorly overreacted” and that she wanted Nesta back in Velaris. And yet, Nesta is still punished. But why? Will Rhysand or any of the Inner Circle be punished for betraying Feyre? Why, if Feyre agreed that Nesta was right to tell her, would she ever need to be subjected to a severe punishment when she was justified in what she did?

This is a particularly telling detail that compels me to ask: is this punishment about Feyre’s feelings or Rhysand’s? Why is it that Rhysand’s “overreaction” needs to be assuaged by punishing Nesta? What I observe from this passage is the characters prioritizing the feelings of a male character and placating him with the suffering of a female character, even when he wasn’t the one who was hurt in that situation. Feyre asks Cassian to tell Rhysand that the hike will be Nesta's punishment as though it isn't truly a punishment, but it undoubtedly is.

Throughout the hike, Nesta is in a silent spiral of guilt and self-hatred, Cassian never tells her that Feyre is alright and that Rhysand overreacted, letting her dwell in it alone. He hardly speaks to her, he pushes her to the point of exhaustion and is somehow surprised that Nesta shows signs of suicidal ideation.

This isn't constructive at all, it is not evidence that Cassian cares about Nesta's well-being, and the scenes of Nesta internally repeating that she deserves to die and that everyone hates her are nothing but gratuitous and disgustingly self-indulgent. The text basks in Nesta's suffering, even when she was in the right and this hike only happened to placate Rhysand who wronged Feyre in the first place.

Hindsight am I right? Fuck off. A more productive resolution to this matter would be for Feyre and Nesta to talk it out ALONE. Feyre could express her feelings to Nesta directly and they could find a solution together, that way Feyre’s situation could be centered on the two sisters working together. Cassian can see that Feyre is alright, she’s obviously upset, but she didn’t crumble like he expected and that makes it completely baffling that he would punish Nesta anyway. It’s a solution that prioritizes his and Rhysand’s feelings as opposed to Feyre’s, making it not about a perceived transgression against Feyre, but against Rhysand.

In Conclusion

This topic has already been discussed at length by many people in the fandom, but it is a topic that still stays on my mind with how upsetting it is. It is a stunning example of the misogynistic undertones in Sarah J Maas’s writing and makes reading a very straining experience due to her obvious bias towards certain male characters. Not even her main character matters when Rhysand is factored into the situation, his emotions are always centred by other characters and is permitted to betray his wife and get off scot free.

Feyre’s reproductive autonomy is violated, and Maas doesn’t bat an eye. But when Nesta rightfully reveals the truth to Feyre, everyone loses their mind. Both Nesta and Feyre have their autonomy stripped away from the, by way of the Inner Circle’s paternalism, and when Nesta advocates for herself and Feyre, she is punished severely. Being put in her place as the hierarchy is strengthened.

#a court of silver flames #acotar #nesta archeron #acotar meta #feyre archeron #amren #rhysand critical #rhysand #cassian #sarah j maas #acosf meta #anti nessian #close reading #acotar analysis #anti sarah j maas #anti sjm #anti inner circle

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redheadspark · 1 year

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hello can I pls request azriel with prompt #23

A/N - I do like this for Azriel!

Secret

Summary - Rhsyand has a secret spot near his massive cabin. You and Azriel find it on your honeymoon

Warnings - Just some cute fluff

"Wow,"

"I know,"

"Just...wow,"

"You said that already,"

You and Azriel were standing out in front of a lake, a beautiful lake, which was within walking distance from Rhsyand's cabin out in the mountains. It was never mentioned at all by either Rhysand or Feyre, who would vacation here all the time, not to mention the cabin was in Rhysand's care for some time. So when you and Azriel were going to use the cabin as your honeymoon destination, it was never brought up in conversation that there was a gorgeous lake.

"You sure you've never seen this place before?" You had to ask Azriel as he was scanning the massive yet isolated lake, "You've known Rhsyand for centuries,"

"And it was never brought up!" He tried to reason with you as you scoffed at his answer.

"Yet you never saw it flying around or anything?" you teased him as you shoved his shoulder playfully. He just rolled his eyes as you giggled.

"He must have had a spell or enchantment on the lake so others wouldn't be able to see or find it," he replied to you as he took your hand and you two walked alongside the small shoreline, "It's breathtaking though, a treasured secret Rhsyand wanted to keep no doubt,"

"Maybe he didn't want to have anyone ruin the beauty of it," You reasoned, "Mostly you or Cassian roughhousing in the waters and disturbing the peace,"

"I resent that!" Azriel said in a snort as he pinched your side, having you chuckled as you tried to dodge the pinch, "Cassian is far less civilized than me,"

"True," You agreed as you made it to a small little pier that was in the water a good amount. Azriel lead you along the pier, the wood creaking and moaning under your feet as you were making your way to the end of the pier. A soft rumble fo thunder was heard off in the distance, a clear sign that rain was coming. But you and Azriel stayed at the edge of the pier as you crouched down to touch the water with your fingers.

"It's warm," You said in shock.

"Must be part of Rhysand's enchantment," Azriel replied as you stood back all the way up. After a quick pause, he then took off his shirt and threw it on the ground, being shirtless out in the open. You looked over at him with a raised brow, seeing the shadows twirl against his skin and his muscles moving under his tan skin.

"What are you doing?" You asked him as he was unbuckling his belt buckle and toeing off his shoes.

"We're on our honeymoon, in front of a beautiful lake that is perfectly warm. I intend to savor every moment of this honeymoon with my new wife," Azriel explained, then took off his pants. He looked over at you with the kindest smile you have ever seen, full bare in front of you and the entire lake out in arm's reach.

You rarely saw Azriel smile like this, for as long as you two knew each other and courted each other before becoming mates. He had to be tough and assertive, being the Spymaster of Night Court was no easy task. Yet from time to time, you had the opportunity to see the bare side of Azriel, the calmness that he had and would rarely expose, and the love he had to give.

It was just a blessing that he gave that love to you.

Before you could say anything, he jumped in the water with a splash. The sound alone echoed in the entire area, some birds high in the trees flew away from the sharp sound of water. You were shocked by the sudden jump, seeing him underwater for a long moment before he resurfaced. It was already shocking that there was a lake that neither of you ever knew.

Now it was even more shocking to see your husband and mate skinny dip.

"Will you not join me?" He asked, pushing his hair from his eyes as he was kicking and hovering in the water. You just stood there with your hands on your hips, eyeing him as he cocked a grin at you.

"Is this a way for you to get me naked?" You asked, tilting your head at him, "You know there are other ways, Az. Especially since we came here we've gotten naked at least 4 four times,"

"Yet we now have this lake with no one around, and I think this would be the icing on the lake for our honeymoon," Azriel seasoned with you. You had to smile at the way Azriel said it, making it seem so simple and easy.

You never wanted to, and you tried not to, but you would compare yourself to Azriel and the rest of the Inner Circle. They were all so beautiful and gorgeous in sight, turning heads wherever they went amongst the people of Velaris and even beyond Night Court. Yet you seemed more plain compared to them, which was never a problem since they had massive hearts and beautiful souls that matched from the inside out.

But when you and Azriel were discovered as mates, you were worried.

Worried about the rumors that would spread of a plain fae being with The Spymaster who was no doubt handsome and beautiful in his own right. Fae women did fawn over him, there was no doubt. But still, maybe you were too hard on yourself in how you were going to be viewed on his hand.

However, as soon as Azriel heard about these insecurities, he immediately took those doubts away from your mind.

"I love you and only you. You're the only one for me, and your heart is far more beautiful than any fae here in Night Court and Beyond. You hold my heart, no one else,"

So you stripped, taking off your sweater and then your leggings and underwear. You knew that you were in a safe place with Azriel, his own love for you was a safe haven as you were bare for all to see. Your soft hips were seen, the thickness of your calves and the muscles in your thighs as Azriel drank in your bare form.

"Divine," He breathed as he looked up at you. You felt the blush on your cheeks and along your neckline. With the look of love in his eyes, and the promise that his love was real, you jumped into the water to join your mate.

You told held each other in the water as it started to rain, kissing and pouring your love into one another as your new secret space brought you more love than anything.

The End

May Prompt Session

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you

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queen--of--shadows · 2 years

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Healing Shadows: Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,916

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Part 7: Mate

It was the morning of Solstice. Azriel paced around his room, unable to sleep all night, unable to get you out of his mind.

From the moment Rhys introduced you to him before Feyre’s surgery, you seized every waking moment of Azriel’s life. He couldn’t even blink or sleep without you consuming his thoughts. He took any opportunity to be around you, brush his fingers against yours, his ruined hands aching to run over every inch and curve of your body.

Azriel had a suspicion as soon as you walked into the House that you were his mate. His shadows were annoyingly obsessed with you, always finding an excuse to swarm in your direction, and it took everything in his power to keep them leashed under his command. He and his shadows were entranced by you, and although he knew he should keep his distance, he couldn’t help himself as he kept finding reasons to be near you, talk to you, touch you.

But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Cassian and Rhys—they were deserving, more than deserving of mates. They were honorable, gentle, kind, strong. His brothers were the most noble and fiercely loyal men he had known his entire life. Azriel wished he could say the same about himself. His self-hatred ran deep, feeling no better than bastard-born murderous scum. He did nothing right to deserve someone like you in his life, and the Mother knew it. He had always wished for a mate, the desire becoming all-consuming when Feyre and Nesta came around. He was happy for his brothers but couldn’t contain the jealousy that would eat away at him in his loneliness.

And then you showed up, like a gift from the Gods, with your bright sparkling eyes, sweet honey-jasmine scent, the melodic sound of your laugh that skittered along his bones.

All night, he replayed his failed attempt at impressing you yesterday with a surprise flight when you returned from town with your shopping bags in tow. He thought the gesture was sweet, and he was delighted to be the first one to take you flying, but your grumbling had Azriel reeling all night.

He knew what you were thinking: that something was going on between him and Elain. He wanted so badly to explain that there was nothing; he simply had to play nice with his brother’s sister-in-law, per Rhys’s commands. Everyone knew Elain had been pining over him since they first met in the mortal realms, but Rhys didn’t want to risk any tensions between Feyre’s sisters, already traumatized from dealing with Nesta’s backlash after she was Made. Azriel had no choice but to keep the peace, even if it meant never setting that boundary with Elain. He knew it was wrong and that he should just be honest with her, but he was afraid of causing any disturbance with the sensitive female. He was caught now between placating Elain and allowing a misrepresented image of himself in your perspective, worsening by the day as Elain constantly barged into your private moments with him. Az cursed himself, but today would be the day. He would end everything with Elain on Solstice and confess his true feelings to you.

He left for town right before you, hoping to “casually�� run into you in one of the stores or strolling through the streets, tracking your scent from shop to shop. Your gift was the last one he had to pick up. He knew the second he saw that they were perfect: soft black leather gloves, lined with fur on the inside to keep your hands warm during training in the morning, with the very tip of the fingers cut out so you could still waterbend and feel connected to the fluids as you trained. Azriel knew how much you hated the cold, evident from your adorably grumpy face and shivering body every morning when Cassian would drag you out to the roof. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and keep you warm, but for now, the gloves would do. Wrapping the gift carefully, he left it at the bottom of the stack of presents so it would be the last one you opened.

The guilt ate Azriel alive as he watched you try and fail to become friends with Elain. His heart sank as he watched her disregard your gift, throwing it towards her pile as if it were trash. It was his fault this was happening, and you were suffering the consequences. That was when he decided things had to change. He couldn’t stand the disappointment on your face.

He figured you would get everyone a gift since it was your first Solstice with the Inner Circle, but was still giddy with joy as he opened yours in the comfort and privacy of his room. It took him less than a few seconds to pick your gift out from the rest, his shadows circling it incessantly until he found it. He unwrapped the small package quickly, hating the contrast of his marred hands against your perfect wrapping. Finding the perfect place on his desk to set the mug, right within his view, it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last before going to sleep.

Sleep that escaped him so often these days, just like tonight.

It was Solstice, and he wouldn’t let another day go to waste. He needed to make things right.

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

Gods damn it, Mor, Azriel thought to himself while getting dressed for Rita’s. He wanted a moment alone with you so he could explain everything: that he didn’t care about Elain and knew how bad it looked, how he had been wanting to explain himself, to now give you the chance to get to know him and who he is behind the mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

But of course, Mor suggested Rita’s, and it was Feyre’s birthday. He had to go.

He tried his best to impress you, donning an all-black ensemble, cut perfectly to fit the strong, hard planes of his body and showcase the Illyrian tattoos swirling over his muscled chest. But then you emerged from Mor’s room, and he felt like absolutely nothing compared to you. You took his breath away, looking like a dream in the flowy blue dress, matching the color of his siphons. It took every ounce of Azriel’s control to refrain from tackling Cassian to the ground when he saw his brother twirling you around, your laughter like a salve that healed every wound in his heart.

But the night only plummeted downhill from there.

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

“Hi, Az,” Elain started sweetly with a wide grin, looping her arm through Azriel’s. “Ready for a fun night?” she asked, batting her lashes as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and Azriel knew without her asking that he would have to be the one to fly her in. Like always. With a deep sigh, he nodded and scooped her up, Elain’s fingers playing with the silky strands at the base of his neck.

Get your hands out of my hair, he wanted to spit at her.

Rita’s was packed and vibrating with loud music, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to snatch you from the crowd and take you home. He couldn’t help the lump in the back of his throat that formed at Mor’s toast, raising his glass ever-so-slightly higher at your name. Even though it hadn’t been long since you entered his life, Azriel’s chest swelled with pride at your progress as a healer and waterbender. You overcame so much in your short time at the House, tackling your weaknesses one by one. He hoped you could feel the genuine love and adoration in Mor’s words; they were reflective of how everyone felt about you, not just him.

Azriel wasn’t one for dancing, so he returned to the table where he knew Elain would be waiting for him, legs crossed and leaning back in the booth, giving the seat next to hers a pat, an invitation for him to join her. Thank Gods Gwyn was there this time, too. The perfect buffer. And he knew by the look on Elain’s face she wasn’t pleased about it.

Azriel tried his best not to stare as he watched you mingle and drink and dance, tried not to let his wrath unleash as he saw his friends take turns with you: Mor, Nesta, Cassian.

But then he saw the way you looked at Lucien.

Saw Lucien make his way through the crowd towards you, drinking from your glass before you grabbed him by the collar and whispered in his ear.

No fucking way.

There was no way that you were interested in that egotistical snarky fox boy. Azriel loathed the entirety of the Autumn Court, including Lucien. He didn’t care if he was Helion’s son, and especially didn’t care now that Lucien had a hand around your waist. Even Elain went rigid next to him, a low growl escaping her lips that Azriel barely registered as—

Right then—it hit him.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The pounding of his heart rang in his ears.

No no no no no

His mouth remained slightly parted as he stared you down, the entire world melting away into a blur of darkness, as he watched a tiny gold thread unravel itself, straight from his chest to yours. You danced and danced, twirling and spinning with your eyes closed, smiling wide, singing along to the music, your hair billowing around you as if you were underwater, skin glowing with the light of a million stars. Azriel had never seen a more beautiful sight. Tears lined his eyes, and he didn’t even realize he had gotten out of his seat, hand almost stretched out as if he could touch you from where he stood.

And then the world came back into focus, and all he could see was Nesta’s hands on you, Lucien’s hands on you, everyone’s fucking hands on you.

He was going to throw up.

Anger roiled through every single vein and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. Azriel saw red as his shadows began swarming around his neck in a frenzy. Mate mate mate they chanted, over and over, louder and louder. His lip curled back in disgust, baring his teeth with a low, feral snarl.

Elain said with a cool, delicate hand on his forearm, feigning innocence as if she wasn’t aware of what was happening, “Az, is everything okay? You seem tense.”

Azriel whipped his head towards her, anger and rage sparking in a frenzy in those deep hazel eyes. Elain’s eyes widened as she recoiled from his arm. Gone was the cool calm mask of the Spymaster. Cassian, sauntering over to the table with a round of shots, grabbed Azriel by the shoulder, ready to drink with his brother when he saw the look on his face and nearly dropped the glasses in his hand.

“Az, what’s wrong?”

Azriel ripped Cassian’s hand off of him. “She’s my mate, and Lucien’s got his filthy fucking hands all over her,” he seethed. Wrath and grief rolled off of him in near-palpable waves, and his serpentine shadows wreathed around his neck, ready to strike and attack: the portrait of a Prince of Darkness.

Snapped out of his drunken stupor, Cassian gaped at his brother, then at you, then back at his brother. Before he could think, Azriel’s feet were already carrying him to you. He couldn’t help it, he had to rip Lucien off of you. But when he saw the way you rolled your eyes at him as if he wasn’t even worth the dirt under your feet, as if he was nothing, his heart cracked in two. That golden thread shone brighter than ever, but… With the way you ignored him and kept dancing with Lucien, he knew that you didn’t know. The bond hadn’t clicked in for you yet. Cassian made his way through the crowd, making sure to avoid any hassle with Lucien, and winnowed you home. Azriel took to the skies to release his anger.

Mate. He had a mate. He had never even dared to dream of this day, the day he would meet his match, his equal, his Cauldron-blessed mate. All for it to end up like this. Had Cassian not intervened, you would’ve gone home with Lucien. Let him ravish and worship your body in the way that Azriel had been dreaming of since the moment he laid eyes on you. The thought made him blind with rage.

He landed on the balcony of the House with a loud thud, pacing back and forth to cool off. He had to check, had to make sure Lucien didn’t somehow slither his way into the House. He knew it was impossible, but… still.

He first sent his shadows toward your room to confirm. Safe safe safe, they whispered menacingly in his ear. Cracking open the bedroom door, he peered in and dropped his head in relief. You were alone, sprawled out on your bed, snoring softly. Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face, the first one all night. With a deep sigh, he walked silently over to you, covering you with a blanket. Az allowed himself to drink in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully and deeply, before winnowing into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, head dangling in defeat. He had a plan, he was going to tell you everything tonight. But he ruined it. All because he couldn’t put his foot down with himself, with Rhys, with Elain. His shadows swirled frantically around his ankles, wrists, and neck, begging him to go be with you. Az didn’t have the energy to contain them anymore and let them find their way to you.

He hadn’t even realized how late it was, the low light of the early morning now peaking through his bedroom curtains. Fuck. It was already time for training. He took a quick bath, scrubbing himself in the scalding hot water to get rid of any trace of his shitty night. The tugging of the bond was intolerable. Please, it begged, please tell her. All he wanted was to grab your sleeping body and carry you into his bed, the safety of his arms where he knew no one would be able to touch you. How did Rhys last so long with Feyre in the Spring Court? he thought, unable to stand another second of you not being his.

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

The chill winter morning air bit at his skin while he waited for Cassian and Nesta to join him on the roof. But to Azriel’s surprise, Rhys and Feyre showed up before anyone else.

“Az, is everything alright?” Despite perfecting his unreadable Spymaster mask, Feyre had gotten to know the small changes in Azriel’s demeanor over the years and could tell when something was bothering him.

“She’s my mate,” he whispered with a tired, distant look, one arm crossed over his chest, the other mindlessly tugging at his black stud earring. Rhys and Feyre didn’t need further details. They shared a panicked look, and Rhys quickly said, “Maybe it’s best if you sit out this training, then.” But before Az could answer, a bright flash of sunlight lit up the roof as Helion and Lucien appeared in the training ring. The High Lord of the Day Court sat atop a beautiful pegasus, its silky golden coat, mimicking the crown resting on Helion’s head, glowing in the morning sun.

No fucking way. Not again.

Az threw Rhys an incredulous look, one mixed with rage. Truth Teller was in his hand in an instant, angled with lethality, and in response, Helion let out a deep, seductive laugh. “Now, now, my beautiful wicked Shadowsinger. We come in peace. Our dearest Lord of Night has asked Lucien to help train Y/N with her waterbending. He is her opposite and will use his fire so she can begin her combative training against other skills. Unless, of course, you want to play with her and your shadows, a sight I would pay good money to delight in,” Helion said with a dazzling grin. Azriel’s lip curled back as he glared at Lucien, who simply held up his hands with a smirk. He would rip that smile right off his stupid fucking mouth.

“Rhys, you have to be fucking kidding me. Find someone else, anyone else except this asshole,” he seethed with stone-cold fury. Rhys pulled him aside, away from the group, as Cassian, Nesta, and Elain made their way outside.

“Please, Az. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but Lucien and Helion are here now and graciously accepted my request to train with her. It’s going to be fine, I told Lucien to take it easy. Trust me, I know how it feels. But after training today, you can be honest with her. I won’t force you to keep worrying about Elain’s feelings. Feyre and I will deal with that. It’s time she gives her own mate a chance, anway” he said, glancing sidelong at Lucien. “We will convince her today to go spend some time in the Day Court.” Rhys offered a sympathetic look, which did nothing to calm the icy rage that exploded repeatedly in Azriel’s chest. He didn’t say another word as you finally stalked over to the edge of the ring, eyes wide.

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

taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @nxrvto @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @sparksandthorns @abigailrose98 @mrs-azriel @cafe-inaaa @sparklymiraclecheesecake @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr

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shallyne · 11 months

Text

A Siren's Favor | Feysand Moodboard

It was a beautiful day at the Adriata coast. The day just neared it's end, the sky tinting pink and the seagulls song a beautiful melody as they flew overhead of Feyre. As infuriating these creatures are, they made Feyre feel like home.

Feyre Archeron, Adriata's most deathly siren, perched on a rock near the coast, watching the sunset as she cleaned a bone from her latest victim, humming her melody. She loved the hunt, it was her favorite thing in the entire world, but close after were these moments. The peacefulness of having done an amazing job, again, and just be alone for a few hours. This was her spot and everyone knew not to disturb her while she's there.

Well, almost everyone. Apparently the sea gods didn't grant Feyre a evening of peace as she saw a familiar, dark haired head breaking the water surface below her rock. "No," Feyre told Rhys before he could even open his mouth.

"I didn't even say anything!" he exclaimed, heaving himself up beside her, grinning. "Is that a new trophy?" he pointed to the bone in Feyre's hand. "Poor thing."

"Poor thing?" Feyre huffed and shook her head. "They know the stories. They are stupid enough to test out if they are true. It's their own damn fault to disrupt my peace. Which leads me to, what do you want?"

Rhysand looked nervous, his mermaid tail twitching as he looked to the horizon. "I need a favor of you." Feyre didn't reply, gesturing for him to move on. That would be interesting if he wants a favor of her. "You need to lure something for me."

Feyre slid her gaze sidewards to him. "I'm not doing your dirty work, Rhysand. You are more than capable enough of killing mortals yourself."

"She's killing Merfolk from my pod, Feyre. Trust me, I don't ask of favors easily. I tried to catch her." he sighed, brushing his wet hair back with his hand. "I can't let her continue."

"First of all," Feyre said, fully turning her head to Rhysand. "If I'm going to kill a mortal for you, I'm keeping her...treasures, understood?" to her surprise, Rhysand nodded without any protest, "Second of all, who are you talking about?"

"Her name is Amarantha." Rhysand told Feyre, "I let Azriel gather information about her. Apparently she already torments mermaids for decades. She's fairly knew to Adriata, but she already killed four of my Merfolk."

"Why don't you ask Tarquin? It's his territory."

"Tarquin will imprison her at most, I want that bitch dead." he said.

Feyre grinned up at Rhysand, heat pooling in her lower belly as she tells Rhys, "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"I mean it." Rhys said seriously, although Feyre could have sworn his face flushed.

"Me too, Rhysand." she said, sitting straight, "Your owe me a big favor for this, you know that? Where is Amarantha located by the way?"

"I know I owe you big for this." he replied, a side smile forming on his face. "She's residing on the eastern isle, near the cliffs."

Feyre beamed, "How I love luring mortals over cliffs!" she squealed. She didn't wait for any more information as she hopped into the water below and made her way to the eastern isles. That bitch would pay for killing in Feyre's waters.

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25

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sunshineofmoon · 1 year

Text

i just love how the Bone Carver seems to be "talkative" at times, like in his first scenes in acomaf - where he basically bombards Feyre with questions about death and what she saw/felt after dying.

“There was no other world,” the Bone Carver pushed.

“If there was or is, I did not see it.”

“No light, no portal?”

Where is it that you want to go? The question almost leaped off my tongue. “It was only peace and darkness.”

“Did you have a body?”

“No.”

“Did—”

“That’s enough from you,” Rhysand purred—the sound like velvet over sharpest steel. “You said a question for a question. Now you’ve asked…” He did a tally on his fingers. “Six.”

ACOMAF — chapter 18, page 121.

And he did the same when Cassian and Feyre went looking for him in acowar - disturbed the poor Cass until someone had to tell him to shut up lol.

“Nesta,” the Bone Carver murmured. “Nes-ta.”

I squeezed Cassian’s hand. Enough. It was enough of this teasing and taunting. But he didn’t look at me.

“How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.”

I wasn’t sure Cassian was breathing.

“What did she do, drowning in the ageless dark? What did she take?”

It was the bite in the last word that snapped my tether of restraint. “If you wish to find out, perhaps you should stop talking long enough for us to explain.”

ACOWAR — chapter 22, page 238.

In short: the Bone Carver, in addition to being a god of death, apparently talented sculptor, a depressive bitch confined to thousands of years in Prison, and having family issues, is also a chatterbox.

Adorable.

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emeriethevalkyriegirl · 2 years

Note

can we please have little Nyx moments and Feysand? Thanks!

YES YOU CAN! Enjoy!

Feyre and Rhysand were sleeping soundly in the bed. Finally. Peace. So much peace. After a long day with politics and report writings and art classes, the couple was able to finally sleep at night. To finally go into dream land and not be disturbed-

“WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Both Feyre and Rhysand groaned. Right. That’s the reason why they couldn’t fall asleep. They were parents.

Rhysand rubbed his eyes, his hand already checking the baby monitor. “What time is it?” He asked as Feyre checked the clock. “4:30am.”

“Can’t he please wait another 5 minutes?” Rhysand pleaded but Nyx only cried more. “I’ll get him.” He replied getting up from the bed and stretching his back. “This boy’s gonna make me feel so much older than I already am.”

“Rhysand, you’re over 500 years old.” Feyre mumbled as she began to get out of bed as well. “Exactly. I’m gonna feel like I’m 600.” Feyre rolled her eyes and followed her husband into the nursery.

When the two of them arrived, Nyx was wailing like a cat. His body was wrapped in a blanket so he couldn’t more his arms or legs. But that didn’t stop him from shouting. Feyre gently picked up the baby illryian. “Hey there sweetie. Did you wake us up today?”

“We know you can talk so just confess already.” Rhysand said as Feyre playfully glared at him. Nyx continued to cry. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

“Impossible, we fed him already.”

“Diaper change?”

“Done that to.”

“….I got nothing.” Rhysand replied as he glanced at his son. “Did you do this on purpose? I know you did.” Nyx’s crying was starting to quiet a bit when his father began to talk. Feyre rubbed away his tears as Nyx looked at his father with curiousity.

Rhysand only frowned. “Ever since you’ve forced us to do your bidding. Is this a trap? Are you a devil in disguise?”

“Rhysand what are you-!” Feyre was about to scold her mate but then she heard the most adorable sound of all. Her son’s laughter. Feyre looked down to see that her son was giggling a storm. She also noticed that Rhysand was making cute little funny faces to make him giggle. And it was making Feyre giggle too. “What are you doing?”

“Interrogating our child.” Feyre rolled her eyes barely able to contain her own laughter. “We know you’re planning something. You’re draining your mother’s energy from her very life source to satisfy yourself! You should be ashamed of your actions.” Nyx didn’t understand a word. Only the playful faces his father made at him whenever he finished a sentence.

Nyx only tipped his head over and laughed. “Oh you think that’s funny huh? I’ll show you funny!” Feyre expected him to say another silly combat to his son. Or maybe even tickle his little feet just to hear that soft giggle she loved so much. What she didn’t expect was a crossed eyed High Lord sticking out his tongue like a weird looking moose.

At this point, but Nyx and Feyre lost it, each of their laughter both identical to the other. Rhysand smiled at his mate and son. Making them happy is the one thing he loved more than anything in the universe. “Yeah that’s right, laugh all you want. You’ll never escape me.” Rhysand said as he unwrapped his son from his blanket and began to tickle his tiny stomach. Nyx was now filled with belly laughter as he tried to fling his little arms towards his father but he was only 5 months old. He couldn’t do anything to stop him.

Feyre, deciding to be the sensible parent, broke the tickle fight. “Alright Rhysand that’s enough. Our son is hungry and he needs his early breakfast.” Rhysand gasped dramatically. “What has he done to you. He has trapped you in his cuteness. Quickly, I must find a cure!” Before Rhysand could think to tickle his son again, Feyre planted a kiss to his lips. Feyre smirked and whispered softly in his ear: “There’s your cure.”

#cuteness for the win #Lil Nyx moment with Feysand #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acofas #acowar #rhysand #Feyre #feysand

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Darker Shadows

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Azriel

Rating: PG-11/T-

Original Idea: Nothing in particular. Finished the first 4 books. Dunno if I can stand Nesta long enough to read ACOSF, so I wrote this with no information from ACOSF. Have fun.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Whaaaaa...? I break my ongoing hiatus for this? Yep. I did. I hope a few more one-shots join this one, but I am making no promises. This one just came to me for about an hour so surprise! Happy August.

^^^^^

“Darker Shadows”

Azriel said nothing as he slipped through the door to our apartment, quiet and soft as the shadows surrounding him. I watched from the sitting room adjacent to the foyer. He must have known I was there—the shadows must have informed him—but he didn’t so much as look at me. Just rested his forehead on the door and sighed.

“Long day?” I asked.

He blinked his eyes open and turned. “Incredibly,” he replied.

I patted the sofa next to me, indicating he come sit.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to grow more numerous around him as he crossed to me. I realized why as his leathers thumped to the floor in his wake, leaving him in a light undershirt and undershorts.

No matter how long we lived together, he was always so modest.

Part of me wondered if it was more insecurity than modesty; but I would never invade his privacy that much to ask. He’d tell me when he was comfortable.

He hit the sofa cushion next to me hard. His wings barely missed getting caught behind him. Ever the precise, too. One arm and one wing wrapped over my shoulders. He was warm, even if his underclothes were cold from his sweat. I snuggled into his side. We both stared at the fire for a while.

“Did you eat up at the House?” I asked.

The shadows shrouding him retreated a little, going back to their usual shades. He glanced at me with those sharp hazel eyes before returning his gaze to the fire. “Yes. Rhys and Feyre were hosting a dinner for the Palace governors. A private celebration of rebuilding the city so quickly before the grand, public celebration in three days.”

I snorted. “Bet they loved that,” I said sarcastically. Among the family, it was well-known that Rhys and Feyre both hated formal parties and dinners with a fiery passion.

A glimmer of amusement joined the reflection of the flames in Azriel’s eyes. “Oh, they slipped out an hour in. I heard them in the library… having fun amongst the stacks. I left them to it and didn’t interrupt.”

I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst from my throat, but clamped it down hard to not disturb the neighbors.

Azriel held me tighter. “Would have been more enjoyable if you were there,” he said. His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t actually want to admit it.

Reaching up, I cupped the side of his face. “Sorry I couldn’t go. I’d have liked to have been there.” I gestured to my wrapped leg. “I just don’t think I could handle a party today. If Rhysand had decided to host it three days from now with the rest of the celebrations, I would have been able to make it.” I made a face. “Sorry I missed it.”

“It’s alright. I understand.”

I reached around his wing to the end table, picking up my glass and handing it to him. He downed the rest and handed it back to me. I chuckled and set the glass on the coffee table instead.

After shuddering at the freezing chill of the water from my glass, Azriel turned to me. “How’s the pain?”

I shrugged. “Better than it was,” I said.

“At least you’re healing quickly.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How did you spend your night?”

I waved a vague hand to the small pile of books on the coffee table. “Just decided to read a little.”

“A little?” Azriel quoted. “You read five novels in four hours.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t finish them all. When I got bored I’d switch between them.”

“None of them holding your attention?”

“Not like they used to. Not since—”

The War with Hybern. Azriel knew. We all broke in some way over the course of it. I hadn’t had the attention span I used to since.

Azriel smiled at me. “Bathe, then bed?”

“Sounds great,” I replied.

He scooped me into his lap and stood up. I yelped at the sensation. My bad leg dangled looser than my good leg. My yelp earned me a twitched smile from my spymaster.

He carried me into the bathing room and sat me on the edge of the tub before turning it on. As it began to warm up and fill, he helped me unwrap my splint and undress. I returned the favor as best I could.

We bathed quickly and then got in our sleep clothes after drying off. After carrying me to bed, Azriel poked the point of my ear. “Goodnight,” he said softly.

I smiled, never able to contain my affection. “Sleep well,” I replied.

He doused the faelights and climbed under the covers.

We snuggled against each other. One of his wings draped over the both of us, keeping us warmer than the covers could. That warmth, his scent… it helped lull me to sleep. I could fall fast asleep on stone if Azriel was beside me.

—

Azriel watched his own scarred hand brush her nightshirt away from the skin of her back, revealing two sharp scars and an elaborate tattoo. Another rare Illyrian/High Fae hybrid, she’d been born with wings. Unlike Rhys, who could summon and desummon his wings at will, hers had been permanent.

Until her High Fae mother ordered her wings removed when she was still a child. Barely more than a toddler.

Azriel hadn’t met her until Rhys disappeared Under the Mountain. She’d been fifty-seven-years-old at the time. He’d seen her in the Rainbow, in one of the pottery studios, on a hot summer day. Her clothing revealed her back. The deep, disgustingly neat scars that made it clear how her wings had been taken from her, and the deep blue-black ink covering most of the exposed skin. She’d told him once she got it to both hide and show off the scars. When he’d asked why, she’d simply replied, “I’m stronger than the people who tried to hurt me.”

She hadn’t told him it was her mother—who’d wanted her to be a normal High Fae—for another decade.

He hadn’t been in love with her at the time. But during those fifty years everyone was stuck in Velaris, they became good friends. Azriel found her company much more peaceful than the other members of the Inner Circle. He loved them all—his family—but there was no harm, or shame, in being around someone who was quiet.

Then, a human girl broke Tamlin’s curse and Amarantha was dead. The High Lords and the members of their courts were released from Under the Mountain. And Rhys came home. And Azriel was both busier and freer than ever to spend time with his new friend.

He’d been so quietly pining for Morrigan for so long that, at first, he hadn’t realized the subject of his affections had changed.

During that final battle, when Prythian’s forces were spread so thin and even every reinforcement that came didn’t seem to make a dent… she’d taken a hit. A bad slash across the lower back.

And Azriel had seen red. His powers had already been mostly used up, his Siphons dim, and his wings badly injured.

But he’d gone to rescue her anyway.

His wings had screamed at him the entire flight back to a healer’s tent and then back to the battle. But during those moments, as she bled in his arms, he knew his feelings had transcended just friendship. “If we get out of this alive,” he’d said, “I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

She’d hummed, her side vibrating against his torso. “Mmm… dinner sounds nice. Afterwards, I can buy dessert.”

“We’ll see,” Azriel had said, smiling.

After they’d both healed and returned to Velaris, they’d done just that.

They’d been together ever since.

Azriel smiled at the memories.

—

“You’re staring,” I said quietly. His staring and touching had woken me.

“You’re incredible,” Azriel replied. “Have I told you that?”

“Today? No. This week? Many times.”

A soft chuckle. “So long as you know it.”

I rolled over so I was facing him. With his wing bent over both of us, I felt like I was in a sheet fort.

His eyes harbored a small glint in the half-light. I stared at him. “What is it?” His question was gentle.

I shrugged, feeling my scars pulling on my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” he said.

“Charmer,” I teased.

That earned me a chuckle. Though his smile dropped after a moment. “Does it bother you?” He asked.

“What?”

“That you can’t fly?”

My humor disappeared. The phantom wings I still felt sometimes shivered in the back of my mind. “Sort of,” I replied. “I’d only barely taught myself how when Mother forced me to get them removed. It’s hard to miss what I didn’t really know. But I remember the wind over my scalp. My entire body fighting desperately to keep me aloft. I loved it. But now… now I get to fly with you and remember what it felt like. It’s not quite the same, but it’s enough for me.”

Azriel kissed my forehead. “Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“It’s okay. Any extra time I get to spend with you is worth it,” I replied with a smile.

#Azriel Shadowsinger #Azriel #Azriel Imagine #Azriel FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Darker Shadows

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fawnandshadows · 2 years

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I need ur elriel guidance…

In one of the bonus chapters for ACOSF we see Rhys and feyre talking about Elain, and Rhys agreeing with nesta about Elain finallly becoming interesting smh.

I always thought Rhys and Elain got along rather well so I’m not really sure what he meant by those comments?

Help a girl out! You give the best info and deciphering xo

I give the best info and deciphering??? I don’t know about that…but I’ll take it!! ☺️. Thank you for the kind words!

https://illyrianshadowhunter.tumblr.com/post/643287845336956928/here-is-the-feysand-bonus-chapter-from-the-barnes/amp

There is a link to the bonus chapter just for reference!!

This is going to be a long post, so buckle up!

I think Elain and Rhys get along really well. However, I think they need to work to deepen their relationship.

Elain, I think, doesn’t want to be a burden. She’s living off of her sister (as she has for a while) and her brother-in-law. Elain is very polite, right? That’s something we see in ACOMAF where she tried her best to be accommodating to Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel. Her entire life she’s been hearing horror stories of Fae, and because she loves her sister, she’s going out of her way to be a good hostess. Elain realizes that Feyre and Rhysand do a lot for her, and so she’s respectful. She goes out of her way to be nice and friendly. And sometimes that means holding her tongue, keeping her thoughts to herself, and putting on a polite mask.

No one would ever dare call Nesta boring, or uninteresting. She speaks her mind. She’s fiery. She’s got a sharp tongue. She snarky. All that good stuff.

Now, Elain holds herself back.

Elain saw what her family experienced when she showed outwards signs of trauma in ACOWAR, and she (most likely) doesn't want to put them through that again.... I think it's also important to note what everyone was going through in ACOSF. Rhysand is dealing with the possible death of his mate, his son, and himself....If I were Elain I certainly wouldn't want to add to his burdens. Nesta is dealing with her trauma and the Valkyries and Cassian is dealing with Nesta and the Valkyries... I'm guessing Elain doesn't want to add to their burdens either. And Feyre, well, no one wants to disturb Feyre's happiness.... and if I'm Elain I'm not sure I would be comfortable opening up with my struggles to Feyre. I mean, her younger sister sacrificed so much for her, and Feyre and Rhys have given her a lot (a home, food, etc. all of her physical needs are met). Elain might feel as if her problems aren't as big as everyone else's, so she might keep them to herself and try to make everyone else's life easier by not wanting to add any more problems into the life of her family.

So, that's just a little bit of what I think Elain's mentality could be. Now, we haven't had her POV yet, but I don't think that too far off the mark, but pardon me if I projected too much 🤣.

Now, let's get into that bonus POV. I think it's also important to note that it's Feyre's POV, so there will be some speculation about Rhysand’s thoughts.

"Elain and I had grown closer after the war with Hybern had ended. True, I might never go out drinking with her the way I did with Mor, and sometimes Amren, but... well, with a baby coming I couldn't drink, anyway. And I might never run to Elain first with my problems or for advice, we had a peaceful, amicable understanding. I found her to be a pleasant companion. I wondered if if she'd resent that judgement. I certainly would."

So, that’s a pretty interesting sentence, and I think very telling. (and I think supports the argument I made above regarding Elain’s psyche). Elain and Feyre, they get along, but they certainly aren’t close. I have brothers and two step-sisters, and I wouldn’t call any of them pleasant companions. I love them all dearly, but “pleasant companions” is so.... distant.

And then there is this interaction between Feysand.

“I mean, she’s been brave when she had to be, but she’s never been confrontational.” (Feyre).

“Maybe she’s never been given the chance to be that way.” (Rhysand).

I think Rhysand shows a much deeper understanding of Elain and Elain’s character than Feyre in this situation. I am DYING to learn more about Elain’s childhood, her relationship with her parents, and Elain’s relationship with herself. Now, Elain gets an absurd amount of hate for letting Feyre go out and hunt and sacrifice for the family (and I have an inkling that Elain helped out in the kitchen and in keeping the house, but that is besides the point) and questions that gets tossed out a lot is: Why didn’t Elain help Feyre? Why didn’t Elain grow vegetables? Why didn’t Elain do this or that?

Maybe Feyre and Nesta didn’t let her. Feyre and Nesta are both incredibly protective of Elain, perhaps they didn’t want her getting her hands dirty? Maybe they didn’t think Elain was capable of hunting. Maybe it never even crossed their minds that Elain was capable of providing for them in a way that wasn’t through marriage. Of course, a lot of that is my own speculation, but I don’t think it’s horribly inaccurate.

“You think I stifle her?”

“Not you alone...But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all... With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a new side or her emerge.”

Now, what I think Rhysand is really getting at here is not that she is uninteresting and boring, but that Elain stifles herself to be what is expected of her. In this section he doesn’t call her boring, uninteresting, or anything negative. He is simply implying that there might be more to Elain than anyone has noticed. It’s Feyre that gets defensive.

“That sounds dangerously close to what Nesta said about Elain finally becoming interesting.”

“Sometimes Nesta isn’t wrong.”

I glowered at him at Rhys. “You think Elain’s boring?”

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer...”

Obviously, Nesta said what she said with the intention of hurting Elain, and I think Rhysand is coming from a very different perspective.

A perspective that is different from both Feyre and Nesta who have known Elain forever, and a perspective that has seen Elain work through her own biases because she loves her sister and a perspective that was shaped very much by watching Elain’s resilience as she adapted to fae life. He didn’t see what Elain was like as a child, so he can’t expect to act a certain way.

So, I don’t think Rhysand thinks Elain is uninteresting, or boring, but I think he knows that Elain has more to offer than what is expected of her, and I think he knows that Elain stifles herself in oder to be what others expect of her.

And I think he is going to be very, very happy when Elain finally comes out of her shell.

I think Elain and Rhys are going to have a brother/sister relationship, and I can’t wait to see it happen!!!

I hope this answered your question!!

#anon #anon ask

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

Text

"My money would be on you."

Summary: Nesta and Azriel discussing the necklace debacle, with some nezriel Brotp moments and Azriel processing his feelings toward Elain.

Words: ~2K

Prequel to: What is it that you want, Elain?

Here's a snippet:

Azriel had forgiven his brother, but kept replaying the events of the night in his head. Did he misinterpret Elain's scent? Did Rhys not realize she was a willing participant? Did his brother really think so little of him? Did Elain hate him now? Why did she return the necklace? He knew he wasn't worthy of Elain, but then again, no one was. She was... something else. She nearly took his breath away as a human, and now as high fae, she was devastatingly gorgeous. But what was inside defied all expectations - yes, she was sweet, and kind, and full of light, but under the surface: she was fierce, brave, clever, and funny. She never once balked from him. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“You haven’t been sleeping” Nesta observed from her chair in the family library.

Azriel looked up from the reports he was scouring through. Usually, Azriel worked in his room, allowing Nesta and Cassian the space they needed to explore their new bond. With Cassian gone with Mor to deal with the Illyrians and reinforce the wards around Emerie's shop, he had learned to enjoy Nesta’s quiet company after dinner.

“I haven’t” Azriel admitted, running a scarred hand through his hair, while schooling his expression of surprise into his usually mask of indifference. She had a way of reading him that he wasn’t used to. Most people feared him or dismissed him entirely. Only Mor had seemed to be able to get him to talk, but that had grown increasingly infrequent, with Mor's visits to the continent and the distance she had put between them since the war.

“Nightmares?” Nesta asked more quietly, as she set down her book: A romance about an Illyrian and a river nymph, she had told him when they sat down in the library.

He studied her. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the way that Nesta observed him and seemed to see things others missed, maybe it was the fact that he knew she wouldn’t judge him that made him say: “I used to have night terrors, they are a product of my childhood. I’ve had them on and off throughout the centuries. I thought I had kicked the habit, but about fifty years ago, they came back. Have been worse lately.”

He knew Nesta understood his meaning, Feyre and Cassian had told her enough. Since Rhys went Under the Mountain, the entire Court had lost something of themselves. For Azriel, it was his ability to sleep.

“You don’t take anything to help you sleep?” Nesta asked carefully. He knew she was being careful, Nesta knew that if she asked too much, he wouldn’t answer, find an excuse to disturb the peace they had found in working together.

“I have tried, but I'm either out for days, or barely functioning to the point where my senses are numb, it doesn’t help with spying.”

“Is that why you’ve been training in the middle of the night? Gwyn said she caught you up there at 2am on solstice.”

Azriel made himself chuckle. He knew Gwyn would tell Nesta, but didn’t expect her to hold onto it for so long. The priestess was his friend now and she was persistent, curious, and stronger than most people gave her credit for. “Did you ask Gwyn why she was there at 2am?”

Nesta made a face at him and said nothing. He knew Nesta had likely guessed what had him in a mood on Solstice. She had shown him as much that day. Nesta also knew about how Gwyn had taken to late night training. The same way Nesta still climbed the stairs, Cassian took to the skies, Feyre stayed up painting, and Elain strolled through her garden after a long day. They all had their ways of coping.

“Gwyn showed me a necklace someone gifted her. She asked if it was me. She said “a friend” had left it with Clotho, but no one else had come to the House that week.”

Azriel kept his face indifferent and willed his shadows to stay calm. Any reaction would be an admission, one he wasn't sure he should make. He knew where she was going with this. She knew he had left the necklace for Gwyn, and probably guessed how much he had spent on it - the necklace was worth more than most of the presents he gave on Solstice, certainly not fitting for a casual gift for a friend. He prayed Nesta wouldn't read into it. Azriel wasn't fully comfortable with the amount of female attention he received every morning. He was distant and aloof during training, but his shadows often informed him how closely the priestesses watched him. He ignored them, had been ignoring them since Cassian had asked him to help with training.

He didn't need to be thinking about any females, he reminded himself, especially after the talk with Rhys on Solstice: You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her. He had snarled in response. Rhys rarely resorted to personal attacks. Or threats, which he had also made: If I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it.

Azriel had forgiven his brother, but kept replaying the events of that night in his head. Did he misinterpret Elain's scent? Did Rhys not realize she was a willing participant? Did his brother really think so little of him? Did Elain hate him now? Why did she return the necklace?

He knew he wasn't worthy of Elain, but then again, no one was. She was... something else. She nearly took his breath away as a human, and now as high fae, she was devastatingly gorgeous. But what was inside defied all expectations - yes, she was sweet, and kind, and full of light, but under the surface: she was fierce, brave, clever, and funny. She never once balked from him. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Nesta's voice roused him from his quickly spiraling thoughts; he needed to get a grip before he revealed too much. “It had a rose on it - exactly like something I would get for Elain.”

Azriel realized that he was trapped. If he made an excuse to leave, she would know, if he brushed it off, she would know. If he hid in the shadows, she would know. If he said nothing, she would know. If he told her too much - she would know. But...Nesta was his friend - she had made that clear a week ago, when she took him down to see the heart of the house. "Just because Rhys said the House is ours, I don't want you to feel any less welcome. This is your home, and you're our family, but you're also my friend. If you would like to be," She had said. Azriel was so touched by the tender offer, he couldn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Nesta and hugged her. In the days since, the two had joked about their alliance against Cassian's insanity.

Azriel decided to come clean. He knew Nesta wouldn’t interfere. Things with Elain were still tentative, and even if she was cordial with Lucien, she wouldn’t ruin her new relationships in the court. Maybe he could use a friend, especially around Elain and Gwyn. After five centuries of using Cassian as a buffer with Mor, of course his brother's mate would take up the role. In 550 years, he never thought jewelry would be the source of his problems.

He sighed, steeling himself for what was to come. Then it all came tumbling out: “I bought it for her. Gave it to her on Solstice. We... had a moment, but nothing happened. Rhys interrupted. I winnowed away. Found Gwyn in the training ring. Elain gave the necklace back. I didn't want to hold on to it, so I left it with Clotho.” He covered his face with his hands as his shadows gathered around him, shielding him from Nesta's gaze. “I fucked up. ”

After a long moment, Azriel willed himself to look up. Nesta’s expression yielded nothing - no judgement., no surprise. He wondered if Elain had already told her what had happened. Out of nowhere, she laughed. “You two would look amazing together. I don't know why I didn't consider it until now, Prythians most beautiful couple," she mused.

Azriel frowned at her, feeling the color blooming on his cheeks. He could deal with her judgement, but the teasing was too much.

Nesta collected herself, as if considering everything Azriel had just admitted to - what it meant for her friend and her sister. "So that’s why both of you were brooding after Solstice? What did Rhysand say?”

Both of you. He knew had hurt Elain. He shouldn't have let things go so far. Azriel knew his High Lord wouldn’t have told anyone what happened, so he could lie. He could say Rhys called him away to spy or something, but he couldn’t let Nesta think it was intentional to leave Elain in the hall, hurt and confused. She was fiercely protective of her sisters. “I’ve been ordered to stay away from Elain," he finally said, unable to keep the weariness out of his voice.

“Because of Lucien?” Nesta asked. “She’s not his property.” Nesta’s anger was clear - whatever kernel of power she had left shone in her eyes. Even after accepting the bond, Nesta held on to her reservations against pressures of the mating bond, claiming I chose you, Cass. Elain hasn't chosen anyone, no matter how many presents the fireling brings, when Cassian had brought it up at dinner. The subject didn't come up again.

“No, she isn’t. But keeping Lucien happy is essential to half of our alliances. The Court can't risk losing Autumn, Spring, and Jurian and Vassa. It would only isolate us in the war that's coming.” Azriel forced his voice to remain level. A war was coming, it was stupid to pretend otherwise. As much as he hated that Elain was a pawn in all of this, it made sense to play things safe, to keep her safe.

Nesta looked like she was considering the risks and said, “Last I checked, Rhysand said there was always a choice here. It doesn't make sense to take Elain's away. This is bullshit." Her brows furrowed, and then she added, a bit of mischief in her tone, "You could always just glamour your scents - it's not like you haven't done that before.”

He shadows stretched toward her, dancing in the space between their chairs, amused that she seemed to know about his past lovers. Azriel just blinked at her, the only show of surprise he allowed. Nesta's reactions were always so unpredictable, even knowing the stories Cassian had likely told her. He couldn't acknowledge that comment - Azriel had been doing it for centuries to keep Cassian from hounding him about his whereabouts and details about his companions. Even if a glamour could work, he had already decided.

He would not disobey a direct order from his High Lord, especially after Rhys had mentioned the consequences. This was different than spying - he could count on one hand that amount of times Rhys had threatened him for disobeying. “I have my orders. I won’t go against them,” Azriel said.

He would stay away from her, if only for Rhys's sake. He would never repay the debt he owed his brother. For saving him. For sacrificing himself. For giving him this life. He would kill and torture and spy to keep him and his family safe, to let his brother have this happiness after years of pain, of shouldering a burden too big for any one to carry themselves.

Nesta looked at him, as if she saw each of the thoughts going through his head. “You deserve happiness too, Az.”

Azriel gave her a small smile, one he knew she would see through. He turned back to the reports in front of him, hoping this would end the conversation. A few minutes passed, and he could still feel Nesta watching him his shadows confirmed as much.

He met her gaze as she said. “I won’t say anything, even to Cassian. Thank you for trusting me.”

He nodded to her - he did trust Nesta. He trusted that Nesta had shown him the house’s heart was to show her own - to show how similar they were. Darkness that they could acknowledge, but keep in check. They both settled back into their reading in silence.

The clock struck 9: about time for Cassian's return. Mor would winnow him back to the house soon enough. Nesta rose, closing her book, and smoothing out her dress. As she walked toward the door, she gave him a conspirator's smile and half-whispered, “If I was still a betting woman, my money would be on you. I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Not even that lordling”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the confidence in her tone. He didn't let himself wondering whether the lordling was Elain's mate or her former fiance. He was still in awe at how Nesta had gone from an angry and miserable person who lashed out any anyone who tried talking to her to this strong warrior who understood him, who would give everything for her family. If Nesta could come back from that dark place, maybe he could let himself hope.

Hours later, when Azriel had finally resigned to sleep and he settled into bed, he saw the medicine bottle and earbuds on his night stand. He had tucked both away into a drawer after Solstice, but the House must have decided to take matters into its own hands. The faelights blinked twice as if to say good night.

Nesta was right, the House was a gossip and a busybody. Azriel chuckled to himself, saying "Good Night House."

For the first time in months, Azriel finally slept.

#nesta archeron #nezriel brotp #elriel #azriel #post acosf #elriel fanfic #elain archeron week #i don't usually write fics #but I love DIALOGUE so here ya go #kp writes #elriel fic #mtp

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booksnmore · 3 years

Photo

Chapter One

Series Summary || In the cutthroat world of mergers and acquisitions, Feyre Archeron has to try and keep her head when caught between duty and a man that might have stolen her heart. (Modern Day ACOTAR AU)

Chapter Summary || After career-altering news at work, Feyre visits her favorite bar and finds someone to distract her for the night.

Word Count || 5348

A/N || Mature themes that are not appropriate for readers under the age of 18. Includes graphic depictions of sex. Reader beware. 18+

Tagged Crew: @highqueenofelfhame

Feyre tossed her keys in the bowl to the left of the front door and kicked off her shoes, one too-tall heel after the other, grinning slightly at the satisfying ‘thunk’ they made as they collided with the wall. She bent over and rubbed at the red lines pressed into her feet from the uncomfortable footwear all day, and cursed, not for the first time, the strict dress code enforced at her job.

“Women should wear appropriate skirts and shoes,” she muttered as she padded down the hallway into the kitchen, making it clear what she thought of their ‘appropriate’ standards. The apartment was quiet, her cat napping on the couch not bothering to wake up and greet her.

“Hello to you too, Jiji,” she said, ruffling the black cat’s fur as she walked past and ignoring his indignant ‘mrr?” of protest. She pulled the pins out of her hair as she walked past the coffee pot and pulled out a bag of tea, groaning as her long, strawberry-blonde hair tumbled free of its tight constraints.

Flicking on the T.V. while her kettle came to a boil, she absently thumbed through the channels, ignoring the doom and gloom the news was preaching, and settled on an old re-run of Golden Girls. Ah, she could always rely on Dorothy to tell it how it was. The kettle kicked off, and she poured the water over her teabag, inhaling the bite of the black tea as it steeped.

Her phone pinged from the couch where she’d set it, so with tea in one hand and remote in the other, she walked over to see what it was. If Lucien thought he could text her after hours and ask her to do more work off the clock, she was tempted to tell him where he could shove his brief. It was hard to believe that her drunken 3am application to the agrochemical company as a paralegal had panned out at all. After all, she’d been a recent grad with only her stellar 4.0 GPA and a few semesters of volunteer work at a local tax office for low income residents to commend her to the position. The HR lady had claimed that she was just the fresh perspective the company needed, and being naive enough to trust this, Feyre’d jumped at the chance to move to California. After all, she knew she was just one face among thousands, looking for a job. The salary they paid was enough for her to just manage to afford an apartment all to herself, if she ignored that some walk-in closets were bigger than the whole place.

She swiped open the message on her phone and, sure enough, it was a message from Lucien, the corporate lawyer she worked under. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy, not entirely. He was easy-going and gave Feyre opportunities to learn first-hand, and never pushed his workload onto her like she knew some of the other lawyers for the company did with their paralegals. He was interesting to look at; not necessarily conventionally attractive, not with the glass eye and scar down his cheek, or the perpetual frown he seemed to wear around their boss Tamlin, but something about him drew the eye in a way a model’s perfect proportions couldn’t. They had an easy-going enough relationship, and though they were friendly with each other he was always careful to keep things professional, and she never felt weird or creeped out around him. Not the way she felt around Tamlin.

The son of the CEO, and a chairman in his own right, Tamlin seemed to have a special affection for Feyre, and tended to offer her and Lucien workloads that were more interesting, or easier, and laved attention on her at work to the annoyance of her coworkers. She didn’t return the feelings, but how would she ever say that to her boss? So she smiled, and gritted her teeth, and bore the condescending little comments about how cute she was that day, how that skirt made her look luscious, how that blouse really did need something under it, as he could see her bra quite clearly, though it didn’t bother him.

No, those inappropriate comments were just made for the betterment of the company. If she wore that skirt that clung to her hips when they met with the judge, he was sure the court would rule in their favor. If she just smiled more, the judge would be a little more lenient. She tried to ignore the way she could feel his eyes crawling over her, or the way his brow would pucker when she wore a top buttoned all the way up. The only good thing about their relationship was that they rarely met in person. Lucien was aware of it, and did his best to help, in his own way. He and Tamlin apparently went way back to Yale together, but despite that he tried to field any in-person meetings with Tamlin that he could, and seemed to always have something for Feyre to be doing out of the office when Tamlin would drop by. She was silently grateful, not wanting to say anything and risk disturbing the fragile peace they’d found.

She read the brief message, eyes narrowing. Come into the office now. We have a problem. Though he was only a few years older than her, he texted like an old man, she thought with a small grin, then groaned loudly at the thought of shoving her feet back into her shoes after just freeing them. Since Tamlin required them to turn read receipts on for the company chat, he knew she’d seen his message and would expect her soon. Glancing ruefully at her tea, she stood up and slipped on her favorite pair of flats. She would just ignore the snide comments about how her shoes just weren’t professional enough. If he wanted her in overtime, she’d wear what she damn well pleased.

“Guess I’ll see you later, Jiji,” she said, kissing the cat’s head despite his grumpy yawn. “Hold down the fort for me, won’t you?” The traffic was terrible - she’d only just gotten home in a cab after a 45 minute commute spent almost entirely sitting still. Paying for an extra cab wasn’t in the budget, and she suspected that Tamlin would want her in sooner than that anyway, so she pulled on a jacket and grabbed her purse. It was only ten blocks or so; she’d walk.

The streets were overrun with people, but at least with them she could slip past, using her smaller frame to get through where others couldn’t. She hated the way people would look down on her, using her height as a way to intimidate her, but decided in that instance that it was for the best. Autumn was in full swing, and the brisk nip of the breeze was turning to a more biting cold. Tugging her jacket more tightly against her, she almost regretted her decision to walk. However, when the looming office building stood just ahead and she looked down at her watch, she knew she’d made the right choice. Closer to 15 minutes than 45, and she did feel less sleepy after the walk.

Pushing the doors open, she waved at Jackson sitting behind the security desk, and the gray-headed man gave her a sympathetic look back. “He’s in a fine mood tonight, Ms. Archeron,” he warned, knocking his head towards the upstairs offices. “Best to just nod and get back to your beau at home.”

No matter what Feyre told Jackson, he was convinced she must have a boyfriend, and had dreamed up the fantasy that she was engaged and totally in love, and had a dog and two cats. All she had to say was that the old man had too much time on his hands, and a far too active imagination.

“Thanks for the heads up, Jackson,” she said, hitting the button for the elevator doors and taking that moment to compose herself. She knew her cheeks were flushed from the walk and the wind, so she instead used the reflection of the elevator doors to try and fix her windblown hair into something resembling a bun. She only had her emergency hair tie and none of the bobby pins required to keep the stray curls around her face from springing loose, so she did what she could before the doors dinged, then pressed the button that would deliver her to whatever Tamlin had needed her for so desperately that night.

When she stepped off the elevators, she knew something was very wrong. It wasn’t just Tamlin and Lucien that were gathered around the large table in their conference room. Standing beside them was Aamon Verne, Tamlin’s father and CEO of Viridis Agrochemicals, and Nikoli Hybern, the Chief Strategy Officer. The three men together were never a good omen. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she walked up and rapped sharply on the glass door. There, in the chairs towards the back, next to Lucien, sat Nuala and Cerridwen, her two fellow paralegals, who offered her a look that was both encouraging and warning.

“Yes, come in girl,” said the elder Verne with a sweep of his hand. Despite his age, he still looked every bit the powerful man he was in his youth. Aamon Verne was a name that was both respected and feared in the industry, though Feyre had more loathing than respect for the man. He saw those around him only as tools for his use, and she’d heard him and Tamlin speaking about Nuala and Cerridwen while at lunch once in a way that made her skin crawl.

Still, he was her boss and she dipped her head briefly at both him and Nikoli, resolutally ignoring Tamlin as much as possible. All three of the men had deep-set frowns, and only paused in their argument long enough for Tamlin to wave her over and push a stack of papers into her hand that seemed identical to what Nuala and Ceridwen were holding. He waved her away carelessly and she took a seat next to her co-workers, thumbing through the papers even as her ears revealed what was happening.

“Who does this Rhysand think he is?” thundered Aamon, though no one was dumb enough to answer. “Buying out our shareholders, and our company out from under us? I knew this would happen if we went public. It was bound to happen eventually.” Nikoli didn’t look perturbed by his boss’ behavior. Only Tamlin of the three had turned a shade paler, though in his defence his face showed nothing of his emotion.

“We could still reach out to the shareholders,” began Tamlin, but his father quickly cut him off.

“And what? Beg them for our jobs? They aren’t fools. They knew we would throw everything we have at them the moment we found out.” Sneering at his son, Aamon turned to Lucien who stoically met his gaze. “Take your people and figure something out. Find us a way out of this, and I’ll give you double your wages as a Christmas bonus.” The unspoken threat was clear: if you don’t, none of us will have a job.

Feyre’s head was spinning. A hostile takeover? Of their company? Feyre quickly went over the figures in their head. Since they were a publicly held company, they had thousands of shareholders, but not nearly enough that a tender offer wouldn’t work. She thumbed through the brief she’d been handed and, sure enough, Caeles Enterprises had offered to buy out their shareholders with a tender bid high above the price of the stock itself. It seemed the enough shareholders had sold, because at the moment, Caeles held the majority of Viridis’ shares of the stock, making them a majority shareholder. Feyre finally understood why the three heads of the company were so riled up. It really could be the end of their time at the company.

Leaning over to Nuala, Feyre asked, “What do we know about Caeles?” She pulled a pen out of her small leather portfolio and began to jot notes down as Ceridwen answered. “They’re relatively new, founded about ten years ago by Rhysand Neri and his cousin Morrigan. Apparently they mostly focus on renewable food sources, though it seems more broadly the company is focused on genetically modified agriculture. They have their hands in, uh, just a sec.” Ceridwen thumbed through the pile of paper, though Feyre found it before she did.

“Looks like their most recent focus is on soy crops in the Central Valley region. That explains why they're trying to take us over, at least.” Feyre’s gaze shuttered at that, knowing just how brutal Viridis’ policies towards competitors was. She and Lucien had just finished filing a lawsuit against the Growers of the Valley, requiring them to turn over 20% of their profits, as it had been ‘anonymously’ discovered that a large portion of their crops seeds were from Viridis’ own stores. She knew those farmers in the Growers of the Valley association couldn’t afford the 20% tariff, but per her company’s procedures it was a required case to take.

She ignored the growls and curses from the three heads of the company and continued to thumb through the papers, before turning to Lucien. “Whitemail? Do we have enough capital to cover the shares it would take to tip the balance back in our favor?” She watched the gears in his mind turning, but scribbled a few other options on her notepad as well.

“Let’s talk whitemail,” he finally said, standing up and motioning to the three of them to follow him out of the main office. “We’ll just be in the other room so you three can talk freely,” he said with a careless wave, already ushering them out of the room before Aamon could protest.

“Thank the gods we’re free of that,” said Nuala with a huffy laugh, giving Ceridwen a look. “If I had to stay in that testosterone-filled room for another moment, I think I’d have suffocated.” Feyre gave her friend a look of agreement, and even Lucien couldn’t hide his grin.

“What Feyre suggested might work,” he said, sitting down at the table and spreading the company’s bylaws out on the table. “Each of you grab a section, and let’s see what anti-takeover measures we can take. The likelihood that the new guy’ll fire all of us is pretty high, so work as though it were your ass on the line because, let’s face it, it probably is.”

So they hunted, heads down and fingers flying across the keyboard, for hours, until Feyre’s neck was sore and Nuala was yawning for the third time in as many minutes. Glancing down at her watch, she gave a resolute yawn of her own and sat down her pen, tip practically chewed up from that night’s frantic search.

“Lucien, respectfully, we’re all exhausted. Nuala can barely keep her eyes open, and I think I’ve seen Ceridwen misspell the word ‘thorough’ at least four times. With spellcheck on,” she added, cutting off what would have been Ceridwen’s excuse. “I’m going to finish up for the night. It’s 12am, and I doubt the partners are going to let us sleep in tomorrow morning.” Though she might let Tamlin walk all over her, she knew her limits. She could feel a headache just starting in her temple, and her stomach rumbled in complaint at its negligence.

Lucien threw up his hands, the picture of exasperation, but Feyre could see through it to the real exhaustion below the surface on him too. “Fine, you lazy lot. Go home and curl up with your teddy bears for all I care. I’m going to stay and see if I can find a way to keep Aamon from killing and eating me tomorrow morning. Night, ladies.” With little more than a glance up as their chairs scraped against the ground, Lucien continued flipping through pages, jotting notes in his messy handwriting, and biting his lip. If it were any other situation, she might have found him cute, but he was her superior and that was just too complicated for her. Shaking the errant thought from her head, she grabbed her jacket, tucked her portfolio under her arm, and headed out into the now decidedly frigid October air.

The cold instantly snapped her awake as she stepped out onto the street, hands jammed in her coat pockets. Glancing back the way she came, she made a snap decision to instead head east, ducking into a bar just down the road from work she wasn’t at all unfamiliar with. Her first few months working with Tamlin’s condescending and sleazy comments had seen her, Ceridwen, and Nuala at the bar more often than she might’ve liked, but in moments like this as she slipped inside and was greeted with a smile by Ressina from behind the bar, she knew there were worse places she could end up.

“You’re not normally here on the weekdays babe,” said Ressina in the way of a greeting, wincing in sympathy at Feyre’s sour expression. Without prompting, she made up Feyre’s drink of choice - a vodka cranberry - and passed it over before leaning on the bar, expression expectant.

Feyre took a long drink before giving a huffy laugh at Ressina. “You are probably one of the only bartenders in the city that actually wants to hear what her patrons have to moan about, you know that?” The bar was mostly empty, save for a couple that looked like they were only moments away from leaving and finding a room somewhere. Feyre was surprised to find that the idea actually held some appeal to her, as well. Brushing that aside, she glanced down the bar at a lone figure staring into his drink, and decided it was safe enough to tell her friend.

“You know where I work, right? Well, let’s just say none of us might work there any longer. There’s new blood coming in and apparently trying to clean house. I don’t know how much longer I have a job.” She gave a mirthless laugh and finished the rest of her drink in one go, motioning for a second one as Ressina made comforting noises.

“That’s rough kiddo,” said the barkeep as she stirred up another drink for Feyre without prompting, tisking under her breath. “I swear, the way they use you there with no gratitude, this might just be the thing to kick your ass in gear and get you to actually find a place that values you.”

Feyre just shook her head and pulled out her portfolio, now nursing her new drink as she scribbled new strategies to prevent the takeover. Ressina took this for the break in conversation it was and began to clean up behind the bar, preparing for closing while humming to the music under her breath. The woman really was beautiful, and Feyre found herself distracted watching the way her inky hair swayed with her as she went about cleaning up and closing out tabs. Feyre’s fingers itched to draw her, already imagining the lines curving around her figure, the strokes it would take to convey the feather-fine hair. After a few minutes, however, she forced herself to get back to work. That was, ostensibly, why she was at the bar after all. She began to jot down counter strategies, leaving little notes to herself later on to explain what she was talking about, and found herself so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the man at the end of the bar studying her until Ressina cleared her through and tossed her head in his direction.

“Uh,” she began, unsure how to spark a conversation with a man that clearly felt no shame at drinking her up like he was parched. “Hi?” Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and cold, and she knew she’d had just enough to drink to loosen up by the heat radiating off of her ears.

The man took a long sip of his drink before standing up and walking over, never taking his gaze off of Feyre. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms, but tamped down on the feeling and forced herself to keep a neutral enough expression. He was better looking in the light, his raven hair almost purple in the neon of the bar and mouth curved in what she could only imagine to be a smile promising filthy things.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, sitting down so close that their thighs touched. She felt warmth spread down her neck, though she forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, ignoring the quickening of her breath. He, however, didn’t ignore it and watched the way her breasts rose and fell under her blouse, drinking in the sight before looking back up with a smirk.

“Do I even know you?” Feyre asked, brow cocked. “I bet you use that line on all the girls.” She turned away, a deliberate move in that dance as old as time. Parry and riposte, ebb and flow. The heat in her veins made her bolder than normal, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t even know your name, stranger.”

A funny look crossed his face so quickly that Feyre decided she imagined it, before he answered easily, “Daemon. And yours, my beauty?”

Feyre laughed, rolling her eyes at him, though she felt herself more at ease with what was clearly a teasing compliment. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think Daemon?” She tucked a curl behind her ear that had fallen out of her haphazard bun, noticing the way his eyes followed her every movement with the laziness of a predator that knows it has its prey cornered.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Beautiful woman like you, alone on a cold night like this? You should be curled up in furs next to some lucky guy somewhere.” His tone was light, but the hungry light in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than lust.

“Work,” she replied, expression tightening slightly at the reminder. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?” She nodded down at his midnight suit, well-fitted and beyond anything she could ever afford, and cocked a brow. The challenge was clear in her gaze. She reached out and took his hand, ignoring the spark at their connection that caused Daemon to raise an eyebrow, and turned it palm-up. “Not a callus to be seen, just as I suspected,” she said, giving a theatrical sigh. “Bet your silver spoon is tucked away in that fancy suit too, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, instead taking her hand and placing it on his chest where she could feel his heart pounding beneath the silky fabric. His other hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her head and drawing an unintended moan from her. The tension from that day seemed to loosen and slide away. She’d always loved getting her head massaged, and it was almost as though he’d known this when he began. Her hands bunched the fabric of his lapel, eyes glazed until he drew his hand down to her cheek and began to draw close.

She realized where this was going, chastised herself for being too easy, and then met his lips with her own. It was utter possession. His kiss was firm and commanding, taking and giving in equal measure. She felt his chest rumble when she slipped her tongue past his lips, tanging with his own, and would have kept going if not for a pointed cough from behind the bar.

Pulling away, Feyre felt her face turn scarlet and had to force herself to ignore Daemon’s self-satisfied smirk as he straightened his clothing.

“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” said Ressina with a knowing look, glancing between the rapid rise and fall of Feyre’s chest and the lipstick staining the corner of Daemon’s mouth. “Go on, lovebirds. Don’t make an old woman long for something she can’t have.” She turned her back to them to clean the glasses sitting out, but not before Feyre saw her grin.

Turning back to Daemon, she was at a loss for words. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kinda gal. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she just...tended to not have time for relationships, and being the pragmatic girl she was, took care of any needs with brisk efficiency and the help of a not-inexpensive vibrator she’d gifted herself as a housewarming present when she moved to Cali. This guy, though… He almost seemed worth the trouble of bringing him home. She looked between him and the door, though her question was apparently written plainly enough on her face for him to make the one to suggest it.

He leaned in, nuzzling her neck and pressing kisses behind her ear. “I’d ask my place or yours, but I’m all the way across the city. You live closer?” His words were a torment of warm breath against one of her most sensitive places, drawing goosebumps up along her neck. Her head swam as though she was drunk, but she hadn’t had enough to go beyond a buzz and knew it must all be him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

“Then let’s go, Feyre darling. Don’t make me wait.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, not with the heat in her stomach dropping lower, lower, until she felt her thighs squeeze together unconsciously. She quickly paid for her drink and ignored the salacious looks her friend was giving her, before grabbing her portfolio and keys, nearly stumbling after Daemon as he stood and took her hand. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, it seemed like he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

The trip home was a blur of scorching hot kisses and freezing wind, the combination almost driving her wild. They stumbled up the steps to her apartment and, with clumsy hands, she unlocked the door. Daemon pressed her back against the door, slamming it closed behind them, and began to ravish kisses up her throat, along her cheek, until he possessed her mouth entirely. Their kisses weren’t sweet, but a clashing of natural phenomena: a tidal wave against a sheer cliff, the inexorable pull of gravity on a falling stone. Their breath mixed as she pulled at his clothing, forgetting in the moment that the silk falling to the ground around them likely cost more than she made in a month.

“More,” she demanded, biting his lip petulantly when he pulled away in order to unbutton her blouse. He flashed a promising grin her way, in that moment being the picture of boyish pleasure and nothing like the foreboding man she’d first seen at the bar. The moment the chilled air hit her breasts, she arched her back and he took the opportunity to fill his hands with her, mercilessly brushing his thumb over her nipples until they rose in stiff peaks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, against her skin, lowering his head to taste the rosy buds that now stood erect between them. “Divine.” He laved his tongue over her breasts, then down the valley between them until she couldn’t keep herself from pulling him back up to her mouth. Her hands snaking down his chest, undoing the buttons as she went until she could press her hands against his bare skin, teasing her fingers down his side until she reached his belt.

“Gods,” she groaned, clumsily undoing the buckle and shoving her hands into his trousers where she took possession of his cock, hard as steel and nearly as big around as her fingers could reach. She felt a shudder roll through him as she slowly teased him, swiping the bead of liquid from his tip and using it to help her hand glide up and down his length. “You’re so big, I-”

“Bedroom,” he bit out, cutting her off. He seemed to strain against her hand, nipping down her throat and along the tops of her breasts. “Unless you want to have sex against this door.”

The thought appealed to Feyre, but she managed to surface from her heady lust long enough to lead them both to her bedroom. She didn’t bother turning on the light, instead toppling into bed with him. “Condom?” she asked breathlessly, the thought only now crossing her mind. She was on birth control, but something about a one-night-stand seemed to require protection from a different sort of danger.

“My wallet,” he groaned, the sound turning into a growl as she slid her hand around his hips to dip into his back pocket, giving his ass a grope before returning with the foil-covered square. He squeezed his eyes shut as she rolled the condom down the length of him, then his control seemed to snap.

Rolling her beneath him, he poured kisses down her body until he reached the edge of her skirt, which he roughly pushed down until she was bare to him in only her pink flower underwear and tan bra. She hadn’t planned on getting laid when she got dressed that morning, but couldn’t muster enough concentration to worry about what he thought as he yanked the two pieces of fabric hiding her from him. His mouth slide lower, lower, pressing kisses to the delicate skin of her hips and inside of her thighs, before he sat up and pressed a thumb over her nub, rubbing once, twice, as she groaned beneath him.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, hips bucking as he continued, adding first one, then two fingers inside her as she struggled against the wave rising higher and higher inside of her.

“So tight,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers and, in an act that had her melting, licked off each of his fingers, before lowering his face and feasting. A rumble of pleasure vibrated against her, causing her to alternate pushing against his head and pulling him closer, thighs squeezing against his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, seeming to know what she needed but couldn’t say aloud. “Ready…?” He took her cry of pleasure as a yes, then said lowly, “Then come for me, Feyre darling.”

He drew her nub between his lips and sucked, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she convulsed beneath him, finding herself soaring up and up until her pleasure broke on a knife’s edge, sending her shattering down back to earth.

Panting, Daemon gave her no time to recover, propping her hips up and lining himself up before driving in with a thrust. The pressure was intense, and this time her cry was tinged with discomfort, though he remained still until she began to slowly rock against him, moaning his name under her breath.

He took this as the permission that it was and began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, angling himself so that he hit that one spot inside of her that caused her legs to clench so tightly around him that she thought he would complain.

She kept up the quiet litany under her breath of “yes, yes, yes,” as he drove into her, hips pistoning until she felt his control shatter and his pace grew frantic. The heat inside of her roared up again, rising like a furnace, until she felt him thrust deep inside of her and groan, his pleasure sparking her own until they were both tumbling down, down, into each other and the orgasm they shared. She felt her eyes closing when the bed dipped under him as he stood. The sink ran in the bathroom, then he returned, sliding under the covers with her and petting her hair with a lazy, unhurried pace. Her eyelid began to grow heavy, until finally she gave into sleep.

#books #bookish #reading #booklr #studyblr #english lit #ivory tower #IT #acotar #acotar au #acotar fanfic #feyre x rhysand #highqueenofelfhame

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julemmaes · 4 years

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Prompt: person A comes home to Person B singing,dancing and just being really happy/laugh-y in the empty house and Person A is just all 🥰🥰😍😍

My Everything - October 5th

Feyre Archeron x Rhysand

THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS, I LOVE YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH IT’S UNBELIEVABLE

A/N: I changed things a little cause it was way too similar to what I wrote for Fenrys/Asterin today and I couldn’t stand to do two things just the same, also, I’m sorry if I’m posting so late but I’ve traveled all day and I couldn’t find any plugs to charge my pc, really hope you guys like this.

One more thing, sorry. I added many of you to my acotar tag list because of the post/au I made about the IC being mean to Nesta and lots of the comments said that Rhys and the rest of their group aren’t your favs and bla bla bla, what I ask you is, if you are one of those who really cannot even read about Feysand cause *gag*, please refrain from leaving a “bad” comment on the characters.

Word count: 1,475

Rhysand was still in the shower sitting on the ground, taking the soap out of his hair, when he heard the door of the house open and the lively and amused laughter of his daughter and wife. He smiled instinctively when he heard Adelaide calling him from the other room.

"Honey, I'm in the bathroom," he screamed loud enough so she could hear it. He heard Feyre say something to the little girl, but he couldn't distinguish the words under the jet of water.

He heard someone running, laughing excitedly and slamming on the door. He laughed, knowing exaclty what had just happened. He was used to lock the bathroom door, although he hadn't lived with Cassian and Azriel for many years he was always afraid that they might come in and disturb his lazy showers.

And once their daughter was born, this habit seemed to have returned to him, as Adelaide had absolutely no idea what privacy meant.

Feyre let her into the bathroom with her as much as she wanted, Rhysand was more hesitant about the invasion of his personal space.

"Dada! The door is closed," said Adelaide in an annoyed voice. Rhysand chuckled again, standing up. His mood was already improving dramatically since he returned from work just thirty minutes ago.

"Of course it's closed, honey, I didn't want your mother to ambush me while I was showering," he joked, finishing off. He waited for his daughter to answer and when no joke came he wrinkled his forehead. He heard the door move again and then fingers popped out from under the door. He smiled, walking to the door and bent over on the floor, touching his daughter's fingers. She immediately took her hand away, screaming amusedly. They played that silly game for a little while longer, before Feyre yelled, "Ade leave your dad alone and go pack your backpack for tomorrow!"

Rhysand laughed when he heard Adelaide complainin. Feyre just told her that if she didn't pack her schoolbag at that time, the next day she wouldn't have the toys she wanted at kindergarten and Rhysand heard her gasp. And then Adelaide's hand popped out again under the door, her fingers moving upwards, "Bye daddy, I have to go do something important," he squeezed her fingers, smiling and looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head, "Sure, see you later."

He heard her running down the corridor and imagined her black ponytails flying behind her.

He returned to the sink, looking in the mirror and deciding at that moment he needed to shave. He turned on the electric razor and heard someone knocking at the door. He closed his eyes sighing, "What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to know if everything was alright."

It was Feyre.

Rhysand leaned against the sink, nodding and convincing himself more than his wife, "Yes, alright. I'll tell you later."

He heard Feyre move against the door, "If you have something to tell me, it means it's not alright." a pause and then the handle moved, "Come on, let me in."

"No, really, nothing serious." he reassured her, "And besides, if I let you in, we have to let Ade in too, and I don't feel like talking about work in front of her."

"Yeah, I know." she sounded down, but Rhysand knew it wasn't because he wasn't letting her in, more because she couldn't comfort him now. "I see you made dinner, thank you." she added.

"No need to thank me Feyre, you do it every night." he chuckled.

He heard her yawn, "And you thank me every night, so I can thank you too."

Their quarrel ended there, as Adelaide was calling her mother loudly, unable to find her favorite toy car.

Rhysand allowed himself to stay in the bathroom for a few more minutes, enjoying the steam from the shower and letting his hair dry without the need for a hair dryer. It was hot enough that he wouldn't risk catching a cold if he didn't.

He came out of the bathroom and headed into his room, trying not to make any noise and attract his daughter's attention. He managed to get dressed quickly and tiptoed to the kitchen, where his intention was to scare his girls, but once he got to the door he froze. Heart in his throat.

Feyre was holding Adelaide in her arms and they were dancing hugging. His daughter's head bent back in a carefree laugh. His wife was moving her hands on her sides as Ade tried in every way to free herself. As soon as Feyre stopped tickling her, she turned to Rhysand and screamed excitedly, throwing herself at her father.

He took her mid-air when she jumped up, clutching both hands to his arms and flew her into the air, covering her with kisses and continuing the torture that Feyre had begun.

He couldn't remember the title of the song, but he knew the words by heart, and when the chorus arrived, Feyre joined them, hugging his daughter from behind and leaning forward to kiss Rhysand on the lips. They looked into each other's eyes and those of her shone with emotion when they both sang, shifting their attention to Adelaide.

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

Adelaide stopped squirming, bending over backwards and placing her chubby little hands on her mother's cheeks. Feyre smiled at her and made funny grimaces that made their child laugh. Rhysand held her tightly on his chest. She could feel Feyre's warmth so close to hers that it merged with Adelaide's.

They sang at the top of their lungs and at a certain point they were joined by the little one, taking Rhysand's ears in their hands and squeezing them.

Cause you are loved

You are loved more than you know

It almost made him cry when towards the end of the song, Feyre put her arms around his hips and began to swing, moving slowly. He looked at her again, leaning forward and leaving a kiss on those rosy, perfect lips.

"Dada I want a kiss too!" shouted Adelaide, taking his face in her hands and making him turn towards her. Feyre laughed, shaking her head and squeezing his side, "I don't think so. He is all mine." Rhysand laughed with her and whitened immediately afterwards as he heard Feyre's words, "You must find your beautiful man to make children with, I have worked so hard to win your father's heart."

Adelaide sulked and squeezed her father's cheeks. Before she could speak, Rhysand had covered her mouth with one hand, a hand that was big enough to cover most of her nose and neck. He looked her straight in the eyes and with a very serious expression, "You don't have to find anything at all. You are all mine," he said to her, kissing her forehead, "Don't listen to your mother," he specified, "and she didn't have to do anything at all, this slacker here, I had to fight to make your mother marry me."

Feyre giggled, taking Adelaide from his arms, "And yet, the day will come when you will find someone as beautiful as your father and marry him and give us many beautiful grandchildren." she looked at him with an amused expression, making fun of him.

"Ade, don't you dare listen to her."

Their daughter seemed unaware of that little bickering between her parents, but she didn't mind being passed from the arms of one to the other, receiving many loving kisses.

Feyre looked at him shaking her head, "Is everything alright?" she asked him, worrying that he wasn't getting any better. Rhysand nodded, "Are you sure?" she asked, just in case he was lying. He approached her, rubbing his nose against hers, "Sure. You are my everything, and you both seem more than alright."

Feyre snorted, "That was so lame."

"But you like me all the same." she nodded, despite herself.

They ate on the couch that evening, hugging each other, then put on a cartoon. One of those cartoons that Feyre hated so much, full of useless and morbid songs. Songs that seemed to drive her daughter and especially her husband crazy, who never complained about how many times Adelaide wanted to see a movie over and over again.

Feyre had parted from the other two for a moment to clean up the kitchen and when she returned she found them both lying on the floor on the carpet. Adelaide was lying entirely on her father's chest, who wrapped her with his arms. She decided not to wake her family up, both of them looking more than at peace with themselves, and she lay down on the sofa next to them, placing one hand on her daughter's back and falling asleep shortly afterwards.

acotar tag list (if you want to be removed/added send me an ask or dm me)

@tottenhamboys20 @sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks

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redheadspark · 1 year

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hello! could i have azriel from acotar with #22? :)

A/N - AWWWW. This is quite cute for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Golden Rose

Summary - Your eyes were always drawn to the Shadowsinger, and his eyes were drawn to yours

Warnings - Just some cute fluff for our batboy

"Great, now that all of those formalities are out of the day, let's go by the riverbank and catch up. Cousin, shall you join us?"

"Not at the moment, I'd rather rest here,"

You watched your cousin, High Lord Thesan, glide away from you with High Lord Rhysand and his mate High Lady Feyre in tow. The open garden area of your kingdom was inviting to sit in with your book, the sunrise was still hanging in the sky as you were left alone in the sun room of the palace.

You've been at Dawn Court in its High Palace for a few years now, Thesan taking you in ever since your parents were lost at sea. Although Thesan was King in this region, you were considered royalty because of the bloodline you two shared. Being a princess and royal was not new to you, but that was a smaller region that your parents ruled over. Now your elder brother was the head of state, and you were sent to be with Thesan with the hopes of a better life.

Thesan was wonderful to you from the moment you arrived with your escort. He made sure his staff and the commonwealth saw you as a Princess, a member of his Court, and he made sure no one dared to defy that choice. You took to this new life with ease, helping with causes that were in the kingdom and being part of delegation board meetings and charities.

Because of your volunteer work, you received a great reputation, being called the "Golden Rose" of the kingdom.

And because of your work, you were being summoned to meetings alongside your brother. One of the neighboring kingdoms that had a strong alliance with Dawn Court was Night Court, a mysterious but powerful kingdom that Thesan has known for some time. He was friends with High Lord Rhysand, considering him one of his strongest allies. When you attended his wedding to High Lady Feyre, a massive event that was known far and wide, you only thought you were going to attend on your brother's hand and as a representative of Dawn Court.

But something else caught your eye. Or someone.

Footsteps were heard behind you, and you paused your reading in your book with a small grin. Marking your page, you closed your book to let it rest on your lap as your gaze went up to the opening scenery in front of you, watching the massive riverbank only a few yards away and the silhouette of your brother with the rulers of NIght Court chatting like old friends.

"Am I disturbing your reading, milady?" You heard behind you, the voice soft like the velvet petals of spring flowers, but deep like the rumbling mountains. That voice alone brought you joy, brought you peace, and brought you love as you shook your head lightly.

"You could never disturb me," You replied softly, "Come join me,"

"I don't wish to intrude--"

"Please," You replied, not wanting to sound like you were begging for his presence. With your eyes still trained on the scenery in front of you, hearing Hgh Lady Frey laugh about something your cousin said to her, you felt his presence next to you as he knelt down on one knee at your side. Your eyes drifted to him, seeing the very being who took your breath away and made you smile.

The Shadowsinger and Head of Security for Night Court, Azriel.

"Hello, Milady," he said to you, taking your hand in his and tentatively kissing the back of it. The cool touch of his lips against your akin made you shiver a bit as he then gestured to the walkway that was along this outside of the sunroom, leading to another little garden, "Walk with me?"

"Of course," You replied, leaving your book behind and you both walked side by side out of the sunroom and along the pebbled path. You had your finger intertwined in front of you, Azriel's hands were being his back with his dagger strapped to his hip, and his eyes trained on the area around you, "Come on, Az. It's just us, and our Palace is always well protected,"

"Can't be too careful," He informed you, though you snorted.

"What should be ready for? A cluster of squirrels that live not too far away?" You teased him as his hazel eyes were scanning the open lawns.

"I must be on guard for the safety of the Golden Rose of Dawn Court," he explained, you reached out to take one of his calloused and scared hands in your own. He clutched your hand tightly, almost protectively while you two walked, the closest you could be since you were out and about in some of the public eyes.

Once you caught Azriel's eye at that wedding, there was no one else on your mind. He was courteous and kind, the head of security for High Lady Feyre and High Lord Rhysand, and was making sure his men were always at their posts and on patrol.

Yet when High Lord Rhysand asked Azriel to watch over you at the reception, you were surprised he was willing to do the job since he seemed so serious and stern. Nonetheless, no male guest came close to you without your consent, and you were always a arm's length away from Azriel whenever you walked or went to visit other royals from other kingdoms. It was later in the evening when you two finally struck up a conversation together, and it was history ever since.

He would come with Rhysand and Feyre when they would visit or come for meetings and negotiations. You were always thrilled to see him, almost thinking of it as a game to break down his cool demeanor when he would sweep the room or walk you back to your chambers. Azriel opened up to you over time, his sarcasm came out from time to time from a joke you would tell or comment under your breath. But then you felt it, after some times visit back and forth and even receiving some letters from him that he would send in secret, you were in love with him.

How could you not be?

He was chivalrous to you, never letting you lift a finger or have you sit without the chair being pulled out first. He asked plenty of questions about your thirst for knowledge and better education in your kingdom for all the citizens, finding your heart in the right place, and bringing you some books from the Night Court's personal library that he knew you would enjoy yourself. His stubbornness came through when you pushed the boundaries in your safety and wished to venture out past the safety of the Palace, but he knew better than to stop you when he knew you could handle it yourself.

Yet you never knew that you brought out the joy in his life when his past was tainted. You never knew that making you joyfully laugh would make the rest of his day. You never knew that he loved you far sooner than you loved him.

"I was talking to your Cousin, as well as my High Lord and Lady," Azriel explained while you two sat together on a small bench in your favorite garden, surrounded by daffodils and peonies that were about to open up from the sunrise coming over the mountaintops, "And I asked their permission to...to take you on a weekend trip,"

You were stunned, looking at him with wide eyes as he was waiting for your reaction with nervousness on his face, "Really, Az? What kind of trip are you considering taking me on?"

"Well, I coined it as a political trip, to Night Court of course," He explained, rubbing the back of his neck as you were beaming, "I told your Cousin, with the utmost respect of course, that this time of year in the Capital Velaris is quite lovely, and High Lady Feyre has been wishing for your input with her Community Center it's expansion,"

"Ah, and here I thought it was going to be a personal visit," You joked, though Azriel chuckled and nodded his head.

"To be fair, the meeting is going to last for only two hours, and you have the rest of the weekend to tour the City.....with a certain Head of Security," Azriel said slowly, you leaned your head on his shoulder as his wrapped an arm around you.

"There it is," You hummed, ginning widely while you two watched a bumblebee nestle into a peony that just opened up, "I would love nothing more than to come and see Velaris with you."

"I'll give you the grand tour," He insisted as if you weren't convinced enough while he went on, "Elaine has done marvelous work with the garden at the House of Wind, and there are a few new shops in the shopping district that I think you'll like. Plus, Rhysand and Feyre offered up the Townhouse for your stay."

"Will the Head of Security be there to keep me company?" You asked lightly.

"No," He replied, you looked at him almost in concern at how nonchalantly he said it. But he placed a finger under her chin to keep your gaze on him as he softly grinned, "But your boyfriend will be,"

You grinned, feeling him lean in to kiss you softly on the bench,

You and Azriel tried to be as careful as you could be in your love for one another, showing no signs of affection in the public eye. Not even in front of your Cousin or others that had high power. The last thing you both wanted was to get the other in trouble. But secrecy could only go so far, and your secret was out a few months ago.

The first thing you thought of was Azriel, and his job would be compromised.

However, you were reminded of how loving your Cousin was when he told you his opinion of you and Azriel secretly courting one another. He though of it as wonderful, stating he never saw you so happy, and he gave you his blessing. Azriel had to explain himself to his High Lord and Lady, thinking that worst since he was going against his protocol in courting a Princess from a neighboring Kingdom. Yet Rhysand, after a long staredown with him, simply hugged him. Azriel was shocked, but not as shocked as what Rhysand said after releasing him.

"It's about time someone made you smile, Az. Just don't break her heart, I'll never hear the end of it from her Cousin if you do,"

Azriel never did, and you two were officially courting in due time.

There were guidelines, which was fair since it would have been seen as a scandal if your Cousin or High Lord Rhsyand weren't as lenient in the decision. While you were working with your delegations and Azriel was on patrol, your relationship could not interfere. You both still had loyalties to your Kingdoms and the work that was already in place, and you both were fine with that rule. The corresponding letters came every week between Night Court and Dawn Court, and when there was an opportunity to vising each other you both took it and ran.

"When shall this blissful weekend begin?" You asked as you pulled away from his chilling lips, seeing him smile widely as he scanned your eyes with his own bright orbs.

"As soon as Rhysand and Feyre are done chatting with Thesan today, you'll get a personal escort," He explained, you tapping your feet on the floor in excitement as you got up from the bench.

"Come help me pack then! I wish to have the best dresses to wear just for you!" You explained as you took his hand and head him back to your chambers. Azriel followed willingly, he would follow you to the ends of the land with no hesitance.

"As you wish, Milady," he replied, keeping your hand tightly in his. You had no idea he planned for his weekend down to the hour. How he planned every meal that would be had, every outing out in the gardens and shopping district. He planned this weekend for months.

Merely because he got the blessing from both his HIgh Lord and Lady, and from your Cousin, to ask for your hand in marriage on the last night of your weekend with him.

What a thought: The Shawdowsinger and Golden Rose to be wed.

The End.

Spring Prompt Session

#azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fluff #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom

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thespianbooks · 4 years

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you.

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”

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