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#emerie x azriel

ACOSF SPOILERS + CRACK THEORY WARNING

Okay this is mostly for my Emeriel shippers who are far too invested in this crackship. I wrote this long theory (and I mean long) in order to argue the viability of the ship still happening. Warning: do not get your hopes up, this is all a massive reach, but I might not get to write this post-ACOSF so please imagine, for a moment, with me, at your own risk. 

This was written five days before the release of ACOSF for future notes.

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60 notes

idt anyone realises how desperate i am for that azriel pov once aocsf comes out

like from there we could see if elriel or emeriel is canon

im rooting for emeriel though

71 notes

Yea I said I was gonna be on hiatus, but I have things to say:

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I know this is Cassian and Emerie speaking, but I hope this is foreshadowing that she’ll finally, completely smile with another Illyrian male and you all know exactly who I mean.

17 notes

Not an Elriel stan saying we can’t ship Emeriel because Emerie has only appeared for a few pages and we don’t know her character yet 💀

“sHe CoUlD bE LeSbIaN” wtf, Elain could be Bi so your point is???

If Emeriel shipers are starting to bother then we are doing something right and there’s hope of it being canon

36 notes

watch us clowning when emerie won’t show up in acosf and instead will be part of lucien’s (or elain’s) book

16 notes

Dusk and Shadows

A/N: This is the last Chapter of Part 1. I’m not sure when Part 2 will come out exactly, but definitely nothing until ACOSF is out and read (by me). There will, however, be an Emeriel smut scene (not part of this fic) released later on in the week. Anyway, THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND GETTING ME BACK INTO WRITING!! <3 (also if anyone knows a synonym for “shadows” or “darkness” please let me know because the number of times I’ve managed to use them in this chapter is just astounding)

Warning: violence, blood, discussions of trauma and abuse

***P.S. If you want to be on the tag list, pls message to let me know!!***

Summary:  Emerie, shopkeeper and spy for the Illyrian rebellion, had a simple task when she befriended the High Lady’s sister, Nesta Archeron: get info on the High Lord. However, when things turn south after a disastrous encounter with the Inner Circle, Emerie may risk both the rebellion and her own safety when she is approached mysteriously by the Shadowsinger who has motives of his own.

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Part 1 - Chapter 5

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“All Night” by Beyoncé is an Emeriel song and you can’t change my mind. Like, look at the first verse:

Found the truth beneath your lies

And true love never has to hide

I’ll trade your broken wings for mine

I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crime

LIKE SARAH, PLEASE MAKE THIS SHIP A THING

13 notes

Part 3

Summary: Rhysand has been killed by his enemies from Hewn City, and Feyre has died with him because of a secret pact between them no one knew about. Keir, Rhysan’s only male relative, has inherited the crown of the Night Court and the High Lord’s magic, and he is taking revenge on each and every member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle one by one. Azriel’s been taken, and Emerie has only one chance to save him before he is executed in two days.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long.

Also, I read in the phone app someone asking to be included in the tag list, but when I later looked for them from my laptop to reply I couldn’t fin the rb, so if you sent me a message asking to be on the list and you are not, let me know again, pls

Tagging:  @illyrianwitchling​  @arinbelle@bookstantrash@mireillemystique@silvernesta@thatoddgirl777@angrypotatofairy@azrielsgirl@thalia-2-rose​​

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Emerie

She still had a chance to save Azriel from death. It costed her every favour she was owed and every promise made to her father by other merchants and business owners in the trafficking line from Hewn City to Windhaven, but she finally put her plan in motion.

Her father had been the one illyrian in the camp who sold silk garments, and that had its perks. To travel with such materials was expensive, they required a lot more care than other goods transported from the cities to the mountains. Many inn owners who had their establishments along the way had made deals with Emerie’s father so he would alter the route he gave the hauliers, forcing them to spend the night in their taverns. It was a longer path, and he had to wait for an extensive time to get the goods, but he would always get something in return.

Emerie put out the bluish fire in her living room and run downstairs to prepare her bundle for the voyage. She tried to remain confident, reminding herself of how capable she was, how strong Azriel was, and how everything was going to be okay.

She had had only a few really nice pieces of clothing growing up, all the good stuff was for the clients. Her father hadn’t been a greedy male, but he had been careful to make sure she would be safe once he was no longer around. Business and property were rarely inherited by a female in Illyria, he had wanted to make sure she would have a safety net if she ever needed to get out. If anything ever happened, if the competition got too hard and she felt threatened, there was a whole net of people she could resort to and ask for help. They had been in debt with her father for years -centuries- waiting for him to name the price of his service.

Even before she had received the answering letter from Keir, she had contacted them. Emerie had written her cry for help on a piece of paper and hurled it into the flames coming out of the chimney. It would get to all of them, and if she was lucky, they would be willing to keep their promises when she got to their doors. She had also sent the same message to four smugglers she knew, people who had no connections to her father -an honorable and cautiuos male- but who knew her, and whom she had dealt with in the past.

One of them had been the one to deliver her first letter to Keir. She had written it with perfect handwriting, not letting the ink reflect her fear. She knew the address of the High Lord’s residency in the city; it was the place where Morrigan used to have her official house too.

“When they still ruled over that people” she had thought.

As soon as she heard from the new Camp Lord that Azriel had been found, she sent him the letter and secured it with a wax seal Nesta had gifted her. She knew from Azriel’s stories how twisted the male was and how much he would enjoy a chance of torturing her too, even if it was just psychologically; that’s where her hopes had laid. Keir agreed to her petition, and now she found herself three days afar from Hewn City, and with only one day to get there before her mate was killed.

“I’ll make it in time” she told herself. She didn’t need to pack much, she had no intention to drink or eat until she got to the Great Hall’s doors. Just in case, she put a bottle of water inside her bundle.

Emerie run out of her shop, the same building where she had lived for over 500 years. She didn’t give herself time to say goodbye to the place. She wanted to, but she would rather save those minutes for now, just in case they were the difference between getting to Az in time or not. She was not sentimental, anyway. She jumped to get on the horse and spurred it.

The Illyrian had no attachments to the animal, but she felt bad for it. She was going to put him through hell.

Emerie knew the way, and she rode as fast as the horse could. She was taking the longer route, the one her father’s hauliers used, because only that way she would find a friendly inn when she needed to. Galloping, she didn’t stop when the animal started to complain. She didn’t stop when the horse’s knees became weaker, and only once she gave it enough time to recover from the effort of crossing a freezing cold creek before she pricked it again.

The wind cut her face, the coldness of the early morning making it a little hard to breath. But she didn’t stop, she didn’t say a word. She was going to gallop on that horse until it gave out. Her mount complained a few times again, but Emerie didn’t listen and forced it to keep going, running as fast as it could, if not faster. She had no time.

It was noon when the horse let her know it simply couldn’t keep walking.

“Come on, boy, were are close, just four miles away” Emerie tried to reason with the animal, who fell on its knees. She had thought the beast was strong enough to take her to the next stop on the way, the first inn one could find after getting out of the camps -or the last one, when travellers came from outside the mountains to Illyria-. It had taken her 4 hours to get there without an actual pause on their way. She really had thought the horse could keep their rhythm for a little longer, and based on that she had decided to stay on the dirt path instead of deviating from it. If Emerie had done that, she would have found the first smuggler she had sent her message to. He was waiting for her.

“He may be waiting for you” she corrected herself. She had no guarantee that the male had actually answered her request. That was one of the reasons she didn’t want to deviate from the route, which was already the longest one. She didn’t have a way to know if her plea had been answered.

The illyrian had no idea if he would actually be there. She wasn’t naive enough to trust him, and she wasn’t desperate enough to forget who she was racing against: Keir. Cauldron knew what he had planed to put in her way, and who he might have sent to stop her from reaching the Great Hall’s doors.

So, what are you going to do?” she asked herself. “Go back and find him, or keep walking to the village ahead?

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15 notes

Dusk and Shadows

A/N: So um…. that took longer for me to write than I promised. Oops (life + writers block happens). ~Anyway, this is the second to last chapter for Part 1, and hopefully I can get Chapter 5, the last chapter for Part 1, out this week. There will also most likely be an extra Emeriel smut scene out right after Chapter 5 is out, so look out for that.

Warning: graphic descriptions at some certain points

***P.S. If you want to be on the tag list, pls message to let me know!!***

Summary:  Emerie, shopkeeper and spy for the Illyrian rebellion, had a simple task when she befriended the High Lady’s sister, Nesta Archeron: get info on the High Lord. However, when things turn south after a disastrous encounter with the Inner Circle, Emerie may risk both the rebellion and her own safety when she is approached mysteriously by the Shadowsinger who has motives of his own.

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Part 1 - Chapter 4

The clipping post burned like a funeral pyre under the gray midday sky. Emerie– heading out for the day’s deliveries  –stopped at the edge of the growing crowd to watch the angry flames tear away at the wooden boards which had been darkened with the blood of the Illyrian women for centuries. The beams which the females had been strapped to during the clippings were now collapsed under the heat, and the clipping knife, jagged-edged to make the mutilation all the more painful, lay discarded in the ashes at the base of the flame-bathed platform. Emerie’s throat tightened at the site. This should have happened long ago. But it burned now, and those angry orange flames were all she could see. 

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Part 2

Summary: Rhysand has been killed by his enemies from Hewn City, and Feyre has died with him because of a secret pact between them no one knew about. Keir, Rhysan’s only male relative, has inherited the crown of the Night Court and the High Lord’s magic, and he is taking revenge on each and every member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle one by one. Azriel’s been taken, and Emerie has only one chance to save him before he is executed in two days.

A/N: To the people who thought the last chapter had a lot of angst… sorry in advance. This is a long one.

*If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

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Azriel

Azriel’s cell under Hewn City hadn’t existed a year ago, when he was still the Spymaster of the Night Court. The space had been built in record time just for him, and the spymaster couldn’t help but wonder if Keir had given an order to create a personal nightmare for each member or Rhysand’s Inner Circle, or if it was just for him. The light was blinding and came from the ceiling. Not even his body could cast a shadow on the marble floor because of how intense it was. It felt like an endless noon, with the sun right above and not a shadow to be seen. The cell’s walls were not average either. They were not made of raw stone or bricks, it was a flat rock surface without any breaks or divisions where a tiny shadow could grow. He was absolutely powerless there.

Maybe this is life’s way to punish me for my crimes” he thought. The white floor was so smooth he could get a glimpse of his own reflection. It was not neat, but he could still tell that his black hair was long enough to almost cover his eyes. 

That’s what gave him the idea.

Azriel knew for sure it had been less than a day since they shove him inside of the cubicle. His whole body was tense, eager to get out before he had the chance of discovering the variety of tortures Keir and his subjects had planned for him. To take revenge on him. Azriel had known a day might come in which he had to answer for all the pain he inflicted on others, and he had been ready to endure it. But now that his destiny was so close, he felt scared. He hadn’t thought he would feel that way when death lastly approached him, but he did. Because he had dreamed of his own life ending many nights, but in his reveries, Rhysand and Feyre were alive, Amren was alive, Mor and Cassian were safe, and Emerie was still a stranger who had recently befriended Nesta Archeron.

He realized with horror that he hadn’t dreamed about his final day coming since they met. Not once had the urge of punishing himself with self-inflicted nightmares come to him since Emerie forced herself into his life with her loud arrogance and big presence. He could only look forward, to what the next day by her side might bring.

The bright light of his cell didn’t allow him to sleep, so he didn’t even get the chance of trying to imagine her in the scenario. That was probably for the best. Azriel didn’t want her to see him when his life was taken from him, even if her face was the one thing he wished to see before his eyes were closed forever.

Azriel had always understood balance. He thived from it. His power was not darkness, like many people assumed, but the mastering of shadows; those that came from both obscurity and light. He was sure darkness would come into his cell sooner or later. They had built new spaces to torture them, sure, but the protocol of Hewn City’s prison was sill the same. He only had to wait and it would come to him.

For how long?” he asked himself. They kept Amren there for a month, but Keir’s people would probably hold him for a longer time just to enjoy torturing him with no hurry.

Vengeance upon him, what Keir had wanted from the moment Rhysand sittted on the Night Court throne’s for the first time and declared him his enemy instead of making him his mentor. Azriel, a bastard born and a lesser faerie having a bigger role in the Court’s politics than he did. He was above Keir, who was of royal blood, and that couldn’t be forgiven. Nor all the humiliations that came next.

Azriel stood up and walked around his cell. There was nowhere to sit or lay, so he had to “go for a walk” pretty often to avoid his muscles becoming sore. It was tiring, and he thought it could help him get some sleep. His wings were tied, but no one touched them further. They didn’t dare. His name still had power in the Night Court, battle-hardened soldiers flinched at the sound of it. He had a reputation, and even the people who found an imprisoned him were wise enough to be scared of the tied up and unarmed Illyrian shadowsinger.

Besides, if he stayed on the floor, he would eventually get bored, and when that happened, his thoughts went straight back to Emerie. Every moment he didn’t spend scheming a way out of the prison was invested into regretting their last encounter.

After a lifetime of chasing the wrong love, he found her, and barely a year after, they were forced to part. He could have proposed to her, but instead, he was the one who suggested never binding themselves together.

For your safety” he had said. And she had agreed.

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JUST SOME BOOK KEEPING

I was informed that my tags for the my Emeriel fic “Dusk and Shadows” might not be working for some people. If you’re on the tags list and you don’t get the notification, pls let me know so I can see if I can fix it. (Also if you want to be on the tags list, pls let me know!!) Anywayyyy Chapter 3 is up and I have a pinned list with all the chapter links that’ll be regularly updated each time a new chapter is up. Chapter 4 might be out in like three days or so.

3 notes

Dusk and Shadows

A/N: This chapter is just Emerie and Azriel and that is my only note. 

***P.S. If you want to be on the tag list, pls message to let me know!!***

Summary:  Emerie, shopkeeper and spy for the Illyrian rebellion, had a simple task when she befriended the High Lady’s sister, Nesta Archeron: get info on the High Lord. However, when things turn south after a disastrous encounter with the Inner Circle, Emerie may risk both the rebellion and her own safety when she is approached mysteriously by the Shadowsinger who has motives of his own.

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Part 1 - Chapter 3

The camp had been unusually quiet that day with hardly anyone coming in and out of the shop. It gave Emerie the time that she needed to prepare her defenses in case the Shadowsinger planned something that would compromise her. In addition to the sharp pins she usually wore in her hair– same as all the camp females who kept the pins on their person in case of unpleasant encounters with handsy soldiers –she strapped two small daggers in her inner forearms which could easily and quickly slide into her palms. Two knives were strapped to either thigh, and in her pockets were a garotte, throwing stars, and a vial of cloudy, finely-powdered pepper to throw in the Shadowsinger’s eyes if it came down to that. Aside from a few defensive moves she had learned from Kallon and from observing Nesta and Cassian, she was nowhere close to being a warrior. But she wouldn’t rely on her magic to go up against him, not after that dinner. If things went south, she needed a means to disarm and escape and being overprepared with weapons was better than the alternative. 

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59 notes

Me: I’m gonna write an Emeriel fic because I think they’d be good together

Also me: *literally makes them hate each other for an entire section of a multi-part fic because I can’t stand writing the smut without a whole bunch of slow burn before hand*

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Part 1

Summary: Rhysand has been killed by his enemies from Hewn City, and Feyre has died with him because of a secret pact between them no one knew about. Keir, Rhysan’s only male relative, has inherited the crown of the Night Court and the High Lord’s magic, and he is taking revenge on each and every member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle one by one. Azriel’s been taken, and Emerie has only one chance to save him before he is executed in two days.

Warning: Angst. Like… a lot.

A/N: I have trouble expressing feelings in English and I’m not sure if a few prepositions were well used or not, so sorry in advance.

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Emerie

The sun was rising behind the tall Illyrian Mountains, their tops still covered with a snow veil, the last remains of winter.

Emerie run as fast as her feet let her to her shop, in the northern part of the camp. She had no time to waste, everything had to either be set into motion -if the letter contained good news- or stoped, if all hope was lost. The night before she had been called to the new Lord of the camp’s tent only for him to tell her, with the cruelest of smiles adorning his face, that Azriel -”the bastard spymaster” he had called him- had been found, taken, and imprisoned.

Emerie’s knees almost failed her when she heard his words, but she was strong, she had lived in one of the most inhospitable places on Prythian for over 500 years; she had endured the worst of pains when her wings were clipped, and she would walk out of this male’s tent without giving him the satisfaction of looking affected. Even if she was, in fact, shattered to pieces.

We are not married”, she kept telling herself. She felt guilt consuming her when she thought about it the first time, right after the Camp’s Lord warned her. So she kept doing it. The previous night, as she waited for the sun to come out again, that was the only thought resonating in her head. “And now, we never will”.

They were not married, that’s why Keir’s soldiers had left her alone all those months: nobody out of the mountain range knew about them, and Illyrians hated Keir’s Darkbringers enough to not tell him. His reputation preceded him, and Emerie’s people didn’t think he would be much better to them than Rhysand was when he lived.

We are not married. We are not mated”. Emerie could see her shop already, smoke from the chimney in her house, upstairs, fading away in the morning mist. Almost there…

At the time, to not bind themselves together had seemed like the best thing to do, but now, knowing he was doomed, the pain in her chest only grew every time she remembered that they had had a chance of accepting the bond and chose not to do it.

For your safety”, he had said. And she had agreed.

Stupid, stupid Emerie. “What are you gonna do now?” she asked herself. She stumbled inside, pushing the door open with her shoulder, hurting herself, but not caring for it. “The letter opener, where was it?” she couldn’t recall where she had dropped it the last time she used it. She was getting nervous.

When Rhysand died, Keir sent a third of his Darkbringers to hunt the Inner Circle of the Night Court down, and they were all forced to split and run away in different directions. When Rhysand died, everything went so wrong so fast, Emerie hadn’t had time to properly say goodbye to any of them before she was left alone in Illyria.

They had found Amren first, and now it was Azriel’s turn.

Emerie opened the top drawer of the counter in her shop and groped for the dagger she kept there. The piece of paper burned in her hand, but she knew it wasn’t safe to read the message until she was alone. And since Nesta left, she was always alone in her shop.

She wasn’t a trained warrior, a gifted high fae or a powerful witch like they were, but she had been smart enough to act quickly and do the one thing the Inner Circle couldn’t do when they finally needed to: ask for help. Azriel and his friends had made too many enemies over the centuries, and when one of them finally killed their High Lord, their world crumbled down. Every single person they had ever wronged took the chance Lord Keir offered them and the witch hunt started.

And where could they go? Morrigan almost didn’t make it out of Hewn City, her power over its citizens reduced to nothing. Cassian and Nesta had disappeared in the cold and merciless Illyrian Mountains, and Azriel had vanished into his shadows, Cauldroun knows where.

Until they found him.

Emerie opened the letter with trembling hands. Keir’s coat of arms sealed the envelope. She hadn’t allowed herself to let her hopes up, she expected the worst from him. Her eyes devoured the words. “Azriel, bastard born, has been  declared an enemy of the crown, and for his crimes…” no, not that. “Azriel the shadowsinger, was captured in the…” not that either. “The former spymaster of the Night Court’s crimes will be read to the public in the Great Hall of Hewn City, and executed the next morning by…”. The next morning? That was tomorow. That couldn’t be. When they got Amren, she was imprisoned for a month before her sentence was passed. Emerie started doubting her plan.

Her heart was pumping so hard she feared it would come out of her chest.  She had to read two full pages of accusations against Azriel and graphic descriptions of the punishments he had been suffering already in his captivity and would endure until the moment his head was cut off. Keir, as they had warned her, never missed an opportunity to be cruel and to cause pain. That’s what she had been expecting, and where her hopes laid, so she put herself together and went through all of it until she finally found, at the end of the last paragraph, the sentence she had been waiting for.

But yes, I do like to play the games you suggest, Illyrian, so I’ll offer you this: If you reach the doors of Hewn City’s Great Hall in the possession of this document before the Spymaster is executed tomorrow at down, I give you my word that the letter itself will serve as safe passage and the bastard will be free to go with you”.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

Emerie couldn’t winnow nor did she know anyone who could and would be willing to help her. She couldn’t fly either, and Hewn City was too far to get there in a day just walking. But she had known that when she contacted another smuggler inside its walls of Hewn City, one she used to make deals with -one of many in her network of contacts-  to deliver her message to Keir. She had a plan. She had a chance to save Azriel’s live, and she was going for it.

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Tagging: @illyrianwitchling @arin1030 @bookstantrash @mireillemystique @silvernesta @thatoddgirl777 @angrypotatofairy@thalia-2-rose

I’m basically tagging the people who said they would like to read this, so if you want to be included on the tag list or taken out let me know :)

36 notes

love how our lil emeriel cult is growing, we need emeriel fanart now (and i could help with that, my friends an artist and she asked me to send her some stuff to draw)

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Can I have a minute of your attention and show you guys the very first Emeriel fanart I’ve ever seen? (maybe the first to have ever been made)

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Look at them, look at my babies

Credits to @libiarts on tumblr

https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ3w-6RHQem/?igshid=1j0n03n1mt20k on Instagram

39 notes

Nesta helping #Emeriel reunite because Emerie can’t use her wings to rise herself to Azriel’s window.

Post
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SJM has personally contacted me to tell you that Emeriel is actually going to happen. They will marry and have twin girls. Neither Azriel nor Emerie can cook, so the girls can’t either. Still, when it’s their 100th mating aniversary, they lock themselves in the kitchen and prepare chocolate cake for their parents because it’s Azriel’s favourite. They aldo buy licorice for their mom.

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She saw Az landing. He placed Emerie on the ground next to him gently, the female was wearing a black tight dress that was showing off her small belly. Azriel’s shadows extended towards his companion, wrapping gently around her shoulders, protective and loving at the same time.

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“I must get back,” Az said, squeezing her arm gently. “Emerie is insisting we set up the nursery already.”

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