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spookylightkidranch · 3 years

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just an opinion about rhysand in azriel’s pov ... and generally in acosf

i kind of think the reason why rhysand was hard on az about elain is more than just protecting the fragile peace in prythia... i think he genuinely wants to protect elain, his sister-in-law, from that potential heartbreak especially with the mating bond riding on it. of course elain can choose to reject the bond, but that decision would be life altering, don’t you think? and rhysand, in his way, doesn’t want elain to sacrifice everything for azriel who has unresolved feelings for another person and who might only be acting on the sexual attraction and nothing else.

the way i see it, maybe rhysand feels like there is an imbalance with what’s at stake between elain and az if they pursued their relationship. we know feyre, our favorite busybody, has been considering elriel romance, but rhys deflects it by saying he was preoccupied with the same person for hundreds of years... that wouldn’t change over night; elain could very well be a rebound or a temporary fix for azriel’s sexual frustrations (i know it sounds bad) while it would be all or nothing for elain in terms of the bond. azriel could easily walk away from that relationship, but elain would have already left everything behind. i mean, this decision or conversation should be between elain and azriel (and add lucien to that mix because, damn, my boy deserves to at least have that conversation) who are consenting adults, but i think this is where rhys stands. it’s difficult because his viewpoint is as a brother, as a brother-in-law, and as a high lord all in one.

we’ve also seen azriel act on what he wants regardless of the risks... i wouldn’t think he’s reckless, but it kind of borders on that at a certain angle. for instance, during the war when he was injured and still wanted to join the fight despite rhysand’s orders. also in acosf when feysand wanted him to pull out his spies because it would not only be dangerous for azriel, they also wouldn’t be able to trust the reports because they could be influenced by the crown. feysand had to enforce rank in these instances because otherwise azriel wouldn’t be stopped and it could very well lead to his downfall. they are his family; rhysand is his brother, he wouldn’t purposely hinder his happiness if that’s what he thinks this is. not to mention, it doesn’t resolve any of azriel’s personal issues, rather it might only worsen them.

anyway!! i was really angry at rhysand for the most part in acosf (and cried so hard at his and nesta’s reconcilation BYE) but i think it’s amazing when you think about it... i mean i don’t know if sjm did it on purpose and maybe it’s just me, but the way i perceived rhysand was different in the original trilogy and in acosf and i connected that with the fact that both are from different points of view.

in the original trilogy, we see rhysand in feyre’s pov. we see him in the eyes that can see through the mask he puts on even for his family. personally, it made rhysand very easy to love in my opinion.

in acosf, we see more of the (annoying) swaggering prick persona that nesta absolutely hated so much... and also the brother whom cassian sees as someone who would do anything for whom he loves but also a high lord who is powerful and can also be demanding, dangerous, and in need of working off his frustrations from time to time. (we know that rhys also has a tendency to hide his “real face” from his family). i don’t know where i’m going with this, but it’s interesting, is all i’m saying. LOL

#elain archeron #azriel #rhysand #azriel’s pov #acosf #i’m scared to tag elriel LMAOOOO #acosf azriel pov #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar

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harmonyindark245 · 4 years

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Secrets [9]

Summary: King's Archeron's kingdom is made up of secrets, which include both betrayal and treason. When the Prince of Velaris and his Inner Circle visit the kingdom, these secrets start revealing themselves. How will these affect the 3 Archeron Princesses, who themselves have a very deadly secret?

AN: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Warnings: Mentions of Self Harm and Slight Mature Language

Word Count - 2.6k

I know I’m rushing the story and I’m really, really sorry for that but don’t worry, I’m making an Elriel fic to make up for it! Let me know if you want to be tagged in that one!

Hope you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

Feyre was sitting on a stool in front of a mirror, wearing a puffy dress and being dolled up for Tamlin.

A week ago, she would’ve been happy, being given such honor from the man she loved. But now, she despised him. She hated him. She loved someone else.

She loved Rhysand.

She herself was shocked when she realised. She did not believe that she could fall in love with a man whom she did not know. But she found that she couldn’t stand staying a single day without him.

The past week, she had stayed away from Tamlin as much as possible.

After he had imprisoned Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Tamlin had locked the three sisters in their own rooms, with a female servant present inside. Feyre had heard Nesta’s shouting the entire night.

After that night, she had not seen Nesta, nor Elain. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Feyre had returned to her old, soulless husk. She could not recognize herself, her face caked with makeup.

The two servants beside her helped her up and led her out of her room. There were two soldiers stationed outside. They escorted her through the palace into the throne room where Tamlin sat leisurely.

She tried to hide her disgust. She had not been allowed to see her father’s body. She didn’t even know where it was.

Nesta was standing in one corner, sneering at anyone who came near her. If Feyre hadn’t been so distraught, she would’ve smiled.

“Feyre! Please come and sit beside me.” Tamlin beckons me forward and points towards a small oak chair beside his majestic throne.

No. Not his. Her father’s throne. Her throne.

She walked up and sat on the seat without sparing him a glance. Prince Lucien comes in front of them and kneels. Feyre looks around searching for Elain, but she could not find her anywhere. She looked towards Nesta and she just just shrugged at Feyre.

“Prince Lucien, where is your princess?” Tamlin asked.

“She’s not well your majesty, she is resting in her room.” Lucien answered. Tamlin smiled.

“She’s one of the fierce ones, isn’t she? Keep that one on a tight leash, you’ll never know when she’ll fly away.” He told her. Feyre clenched her fist at the mention of keeping her sister tied up and held down. She saw Nesta reacting in a similar way.

“Of course your majesty.” Lucien said. He averted his eyes from Tamlin’s as if he were hiding something. Feyre looked at him speculatively, in hope of figuring it out. But before she could, Tamlin rose, taking Feyre along with him.

“I want to make an announcement.” He declared as he gave Feyre a smile. She inwardly flinched. “Feyre and I have decided that in one days time from now, we shall be getting married.” Feyre looked at Tamlin in shock. “And we have a very esteemed guest we need to welcome.” He turned towards the big doors as they opened and said, “I would now welcome the King of Hybern to my kingdom!”

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Azriel was exhausted. He had been locked in a wretched cell for the past one week. It would have been extremely drab if it had not been for the daily visits Elain paid him.

He remembered how she had looked at him when she said that she loved him. He would’ve said it back if it weren’t a good bye. He knew he had been in love with her. Probably since their first meeting when she had tricked him into taking a walk with him, or maybe during the time they trained together. But he was sure by the time they had first kissed at Rita’s.

Elain would sneak into his cell everyday and they would spend hours together, sharing stories of their own.

“How did you get these scars?” She asked him softly.

He paused slightly before he started speaking. “My step brothers were very cruel people.”

“Your original family?” She asked. He had told her about how he got his powers and had ended up with Cassian and Rhys, excluding the part about his hands.

“They wanted to experiment if I would heal or not and decided to burn my hands.” Elain gasped, but he continued, looking down at his scarred hands. “People came to save me once they heard my screams, but I was already ruined by then.”

“Az, you’re not ruined. You’re perfect.” He looked up and saw that she had tears in her eyes.

She gave him a sad look. “I once tried to end my life.” She said softly, so that Rhys and Cassian wouldn’t hear.

Az looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

She got a distant look in her eyes and started playing with a loose strand of her hair. “A few years ago, when I had just turned 18, I had started getting visions very frequently. Some were good, most were bad, but all of them ended up with me losing my mind.” Azriel remained quiet, silently urging her to continue. “I had begun drinking alcohol to drown out its effects. When that stopped working, I started frequenting opium dens, in search of something, anything, to rid me of the visions.” Az reached his hand out of the bars and grasped hers. She looked at him with teary eyes.

“Nothing worked.” She whispered, her voice caught in her throat. “I had become so - so desperate, I had decided to end my own life.” She wiped her tears and Az had never felt so helpless in his life. He wished he could break through the metal bars and hold her tightly. “I had taken one of the sharpest daggers I could find and I-” She broke off, unable to form words. “I had slit both of my wrists.” Az had stopped breathing as Elain sniffled. “I would have succeeded if Feyre had not reached me on time.” Elain said softly.

Az gripped her hand tightly. “Elain, you are one of the nicest, kindest and wildest ladies that I have had the fortune to know.” She giggled softly. “If anyone deserves to live, it’s you. And nothing can take that away from you.” He said solemnly.

She held onto both of Az’s hands. “I am glad that I did not die that day. If I would’ve, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you.” She said. “And I promise, I will figure out a way to get you out of here. I love you.”

Az looked at her with adoration. “I love you too, Elain.” Was all he could breathe out before they heard footsteps approaching them. Elain looked towards him with wide eyes.

There was nothing they could do when two figures came and stood in front of them.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Lucien, please take Elain back to her room.”

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

Nesta had no idea what she was doing. The entire kingdom was in peril. She did not understand how no one objected when Tamlin declared himself king. And now, everyone in the above chambers had started busying themselves with preparations for Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding. And Nesta would rather die, than let her baby sister marry that traitor.

She walked beside Prince Lucien, entering the dungeons where Tamlin had kept Prince Rhys, Azriel and Cassian captive.

Prince Lucien had reached out to her after Tamlin had declared his marriage plans. Both of them had known that Feyre had no hand in the decision at all. He said that he did not want to be a part of Tamlin’s betrayal and wanted to help them.

So, there she was, plotting with prince Lucien. Who would have ever thought she’d see such days?

She entered the dungeons and found Elain sitting on the floor, holding Azriel’s hands.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Nesta said as cold as possible. She then added. “Lucien, please take Elain back to her room.”

Elain shook her head stubbornly. “No. I’m not leaving. And definitely not with him.” She said, glaring at Prince Lucien.

Nesta looked towards Elain, her face saying, Calm down, everything is fine. Then, she looked towards Lucien who only rolled his eyes and grabbed Elain’s hand.

She instantly shook it off as Azriel said, “Don’t touch her.” The way he said it made Nesta look at him speculatively.

“It’s okay. He won’t try anything. He’s here to help.” She said.

“Nesta? Is that you?” Cassian. It was the one voice that had repeated itself in her mind the past week.

She instantly rushed towards the cell beside her and saw him with his hair open, sitting in one corner. She looked him over quickly to see if he had been hurt.

“What happened to your face?” She blurted.

He smiled and touched the bruised part of his jaw. “Some dumbass soldier elbowed me when I wouldn't move away from you.” He then frowned as he said, “Did I really just see you coming in with Vanserra?”

Nesta laughed. Even in the entire mess they were in, he had still made her laugh. “About that.” She moved towards the Prince’s cell and found him lying on the floor gazing out of the small grated window. “Where is your father and why hasn’t he done anything?”

Rhys didn’t look at her as he said, “He doesn’t care enough to know about all of this. He probably thinks we’re revelling over here.”

“And what about your other two companions?”

“Mor and Amren left when we went into that tunnel. They won’t be of any help either.” He answered gravely.

Nesta let out an irritated breath. “Fine. We can handle it on our own. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“How?” Azriel asked.

“Tomorrow, when everyone in the castle would be busy with Feyre and Tamlin’s marriage, Prince Lucien and I will get you out.”

“Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding?” Rhys instantly sat up and gave Nesta a look of horror. She just nodded.

“You believe Vanserra?” Cassian asked.

“Not at all. That is why I sent him away with Elain.”

She saw Cassian and Rhys smirk while Az still looked tense.

“Anything else happened while we were stuck in this shithole?” Cassian asked as he kicked a pebble on the floor.

Nesta leaned against the bars as she said, “Nothing much, just that the King of Hybern is here.”

All three of them stilled as they saw her looking at her nails carelessly.

“You do know that the King of Hybern is evil, right?” Rhys asked carefully.

“Yes, and that is why, we’re going to kill him.” She simply said. “Now listen up, here’s what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

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

One of the first things Tamlin had done after the meeting was spend a complete hour telling the King how grateful he was for his help. No, how grateful they were, Feyre included.

Feyre had no intention of marrying Tamlin. She would rather die than get married to him. She would get married to Rhysand. When she had thought about him she realised that she had never said yes. She had not stopped regretting it.

From all she had heard, she knew Hybern was not a good kingdom. It’s people were as bad as the King.

She had seen him give her looks during dinner that made Feyre feel slimy. Nesta had disappeared from the throne room as soon as she could and had not returned. However, Elain had finally decided to join them.

Elain was sitting beside her, her spoon once again in her hand as if it were a weapon. This time, Feyre truly wished that she would stab someone with it.

“I would like to raise a toast, in honour of King Tamlin, for being kind enough to host us.” The King of Hybern said as he raised his glass.

Feyre glared at him in anger and Elain did the same. Tamlin smiled and raised his glass as well.

The rest of the dinner went by with Tamlin the King discussing things that were of no importance while Feyre and Elain remained silent, eating their own food. Soon dinner was over and they had all risen from their seats when Tamlin said, “Princess Elain, I would like to speak with you. Kindly stay.”

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Elain continued sitting in her seat as her sister and the Evil King left the dining hall. Tamlin gave her a once over and asked “Where is Princess Nesta?”

Elain shrugged. “I’m not my sister’s keeper.” She knew very well that her sister was down in the dungeons plotting Tamlin’s downfall. Prince Lucien had told her when he brought her to her chambers. She had been furious when he had first told her that he had been involved in Tamlin’s plan along with Lord Thomas. But when he told her that he had killed Lord Thomas before he could hurt the princesses, Elain’s anger vanished.

“Very well.” Tamlin replied. “Would you like to tell me where you were this afternoon?”

Elain pretends to think for a minute then says, “Nope.” exaggerating the ‘O’ sound.

“There wasn’t a choice.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine, if you must know, I was resting in my chambers. Would you like to know in what position I was resting?”

Tamlin eyes her angrily and then smirks as he says, “How is dear Lucien treating you? I’ve heard he’s quite wild in bed.”

Elain tried really hard not to roll her eyes. “I wouldn’t know, but I do assume that he’s better than you, considering he is an actual man. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you.” She says nonchalantly.

Tamlin instantly got up from his seat and threw his glass onto the floor, his eyes wide in anger. She had already seen it happen so she didn’t even flutter an eyelid at him.

“Is that any way to speak to your King?!” He exclaimed.

Elain looked around the room and shot him a confused look. “King? I don’t see any king here.” her face was one of disgust as she said, “I can only see a coward standing in front of me.”

Tamlin looked at her with wild eyes. “Leave! Now!”

She slunk back in her seat, lifting her goblet and inspecting it. “No, I don’t think I will. I still haven’t finished my wine.” She glanced up at him and looked him dead in the eye. “Have you poisoned this one as well?”

Shock flashed across Tamlin’s face as Elain smirked at him. He marched out of the hall as Elain raised her glass in salute and downed the entire glass in one gulp.

She couldn’t wait for the next day when she would finally get her kingdom back.

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Rhys lay in his cell playing with a little pebble he had found. He had slowly begun losing hope of ever getting out of there before Nesta had shown up.

They had figured out how to get all of them out of the dungeons and disguise them as guests at the wedding and as soon as they got the chance, they would strike.

Lucien had arranged troops from his own court to help. King Helion had also been generous enough to send word to Rhys’ own father who was also sending troops for their help.

In a way her appearance had made him feel sad. Elain would visit Azriel everyday and even Nesta had managed to come down to visit. Feyre was the only one who hadn’t come.

He wondered if their moment at Rita’s had only been a drunken escapade for Feyre. What if she didn’t even remember it?

Thoughts like these plagued his mind. Then there was also the wedding the next day.

He was more determined than ever to get out of the dungeons and kill Tamlin himself, even if it took him in the process.

He sat and stared outside the window at the night sky, waiting for the next day to come.

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Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag list: @devilorfling @sleepyyhead21 @b00kworm @s-atanism @eloeloeheheh @absolute-dissapointment @illyrianwitchling13 @sjm-things

#feysand #elriel #nessian #feyre archeron #rhysand #elain archeron #azriel #nesta archeron #cassian #elain x azriel #rhys x feyre #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar au

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vintagesewingmachine · 6 years

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The Shadowsinger - Azriel - 1/?

This multi-chapter is focused on Azriel, my baby whom I love to an extreme level. It’s not Elriel, its not Moriel (never moriel unless brotp) its just Azriel. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. Also in this fic is an OC of mine. But let me make this clear: THIS FIC’S FOCUS IS NOT ROMANCE. It is AZRIEL.

Warnings: angst, depressed thoughts, dark Azriel, cold Azriel, No worry, there is happy Az too

Next>>

A small boy huddled in the corner of a windowless basement. He was cold, oh so cold. He shuffled his wings. His hands rubbed for friction, for warmth. His hands were slim and pale and smooth. Like the rest of him.

He whipped his head around to stare into a corner. He thought he had seen something move.

There. It happened again. But nothing was in the corner. It was as if the shadows themselves had stirred. He started to feel nervous. Something was trying to warn him.

The shadows?

He didn’t ponder long. Footsteps sounded coming down the stairs. Light illuminated the figures of his step brothers, and the boy started to shake in fear.

They were carrying a bowl. And fire.

Soon, screams of agony echoed in that basement.

Azriel woke in a cold sweat, breathing hard. He sat up, blankets sliding down his smooth chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed his face with a scarred hand.

Five hundred years, and the nightmares still plagued him.

Pathetic.

Sighing, he threw off the blankets, swung his bare legs around and stood. The shadowsinger strode to the curtains and opened them to see the sky. It was a couple of hours before dawn. Knowing he would be unable to go back to sleep, he pulled on his fighting leathers and Truth-Teller. Shadows swirled around him, Nothing to report, it seemed. Except that Cassian and Nesta would be returning soon. The Blood-Rite was over and the Illyrians were settling.

He left his unknown apartment and took to the sky, savouring the cold air. Spring was here, but it was early yet and there was still snow on the ground in melting patches. He felt himself calm as he soared over Velaris, and into the mountains and woods beyond. There was a clearing that no one knew about except for him. Azriel went there often to think and clear his mind. It was small, and well-hidden.

He landed, frozen snow crunching beneath his boots. Folding his wings back he found a slightly drier spot underneath a cedar tree and sat down. He gazed at the night sky. No matter how many years he had looked, how he studied, the sky always changed. It was exquisite. It was free.

His breath billowed in clouds before him, and a chill settled in his bones. He didn’t mind the cold like some did. He had mastered it a long time ago.

The shadowsinger let his shadows roam freely. He didn’t spread them, but neither did he try to keep them close. He turned his eyes to them as they floated about, a mind of their own. His shadows were his friends. They told him secrets, sang them to him. And in return, he sang to them. That was what nobody really knew. People had long since forgotten where the ‘singer’ part of his name came from.

It must be odd to others to think that shadows enjoy music. Not even the Inner Circle knew that he often went to the orchestra, for his shadows as well as himself.

One shadow came closer, curling around the hands that rested in his lap. His mouth quirked up at it’s attempt to comfort him from his past. So he sang softly to it. The other shadows quickly gathered to here their singer’s voice. And so he sang to his shadows until the rising sun chased them from the open.

*****

Azriel sighed as his friends bickered at lunch. They were in Feyre’s manor, in the spacious dining room, at the large table, eating a big lunch. Feyre had designed this mansion for space and family, that was for sure. He silently told one of his shadows to listen to the conversation, because he certainly didn’t feel like listening to his family arguing.

But of course he had to be dragged in.

“Azriel! What do you think? Should we go out to Rita’s tonight or the theatre?” Mor looked at him expectantly.

“Rita’s,” he answered. He didn’t tell him he planned on going to the theatre tonight. His shadows didn’t feel comfortable being themselves around the Inner Circle, and he respected that. Something always had held him back from revealing the personality and playfulness of his shadows.

Mor looked triumphantly at Feyre. “See? Even Az thinks we should skip the theatre. Its just some opera anyway. Opera’s are boring. They aren’t plays but they aren’t concerts either and it gives me a headache.”

Azriel knew she was exaggerating to get her point across. Mor loved theatre, though it was true she wasn’t partial to opera.

“Either way,” Amren said flatly. “I’m staying in.”

Feyre said, “Alright” to answer both Mor and Amren.

But just when he thought they would forget about him, the pulled him back in. “What are you doing tonight, Az? Wanna come?”

He didn’t meet their eyes and murmured, “I have plans tonight. Sorry.”

Mor and Feyre sighed dramatically and Rhys looked at him quizzically.

But he was finished eating, so he said good-bye and winnowed away.

*****

Azriel sat in his own private box. Not Rhys’s. His own. That again, the Inner Circle didn’t know about.

Here, alone, watching the opera, he let his shadows out so they could enjoy it too.

The performance was spectacular. It had been a tragedy, and it sure made him feel tragic. (not that he really needed much help in that department.) His shadows liked it too. He could feel their contentment as they curled around him. Rather than disappear like he usually did, he decided to go backstage and talk to one of the actors. She had done an amazing job as the lead. She was clearly very skilled at acting, and had a splendid voice.

Backstage, everything was chaos. He frowned, and sent his shadows to skim the crowd for the one he was seeking. They brought him to a female with light blue - turquoise - skin and a pale green evening gown. Her hair was slightly darker than her skin but the same colour and was up in an extravagant do, and pearls hung around her neck as she stood off to the side. She didn’t look anything like the lead actress, who had had dark brown hair and golden skin. But his shadows told him, yes, this was who he was looking for. They had never been wrong before, so he cautiously approached her.

“Hello,” he said quietly at her shoulder.

She didn’t turn around as she said at the same volume, “Hello.” A smile quirked her lips. “Can I help you?”

“I was looking for the lead actress. I would like to tell her that she was amazing on stage.”

The female’s smile grew. “Oh, she knows.” She finally turned to face him. Scanning him with eyes the colour of her gown, she said, “Would you like to go somewhere else? Out for a drink perhaps? I detest crowds.” She grinned, showing blindingly white, straight, perfect teeth. And elongated canines. Fascinated, he agreed, and they went to a nearby, quiet bar. They took a spot in the far corner, away from any eyes. Azriel sent his shadows to make sure everything was good and dandy.

Before he could say anything, the female held up a slim hand adorned with rings, and golden bangles slid down her arm. “I like reading people, guessing who they are. Let me.”

Azriel tilted his head. “Alright.”

She studied him for a moment, his face, to his clothing (black pants, a nice black jacket), to his folded wings, to his gloved hands with the two blue siphons.

She gestured to his hands. “Do you mind removing your gloves? Hands can tell a great deal about a person. Though,” she added, “The fact that you are wearing gloves in the first place tells me you are self-conscious about your hands.”

Azriel hesitated, considering. Surprising himself, he said slowly, “Sure.”

He peeled off his gloves and offered them to her. Her eyes betrayed nothing as she took them in her own perfect turquoise hands. She ran her long fingers over them lightly, turning them this way and that, tracing the lines of his palm. Eventually she returned to him his hands and he tugged his gloves back on.

He listened to her speech on what she had learned. “You are Illyrian, that much is obvious with your wings, round ears, and siphons. Your hands are calloused from years of wielding weapons, and your muscular form also lead me to believe you have fought for a long time. You are ashamed of your scars, and whatever tragic story goes with them. They are old scars, and stretched as if you received them as a child. Leading be to believe you were the victim of vicious and brutal child abuse, way beyond the normal rough life of a young Illyrian male. The scars seem to be from burns, and the ripples... a flammable liquid... Oil. Someone forced your hands into burning oil when you were a child.” She paused for a moment, and then added before continuing, “I hope you killed them slowly. Back to you, the shadows that swirl around you and dart back and forth - don’t think I didn’t notice them - indicate that you are a shadowsinger. Very rare. You are quiet and observant, and know things others don’t. Such as that I was the main actress, even though I changed my appearance with my own abilities. So I think you were trained as a spy. Still are one, probably, considering I have a strong suspicion as to your identity.”

“Oh?” Azriel said. “And who am I?”

The female flashed him another unnervingly unnerving grin. “The High Lord’s shadowsinger and spymaster. His foster brother, if I recall. Unfortunately, I do not know your personal name. Care to share?”

Her smiles were strangely infectious. So he grinned back, “Only if you tell me yours.”

She laughed, a clear, high sound. “My name is Amunet.”

Amunet. “My name is Azriel.”

“Az-ri-el.” She tried his name out on her tongue. She smiled, softer this time. “You have a beautiful name.”

“Thank you. Your name is lovely as well. Does it mean anything?”

Amunet stood. “This evening has been wonderful. And if you want to know the meaning of my name, you can find out yourself. Come find me when you think you know who I am.”

And with that, she swept out of the building.

Colour Az intrigued.

*****

Thanks for reading! I am very excited to continue this. If you want to be tagged, ask me below. And again: this is not a romantic fanfiction. yes, there will be hints at elriel, but his mainly focuses on Azriel, and my OC (Amunet) will appear again. And there will be lots about his shadows, because i love the idea of a shadowsinger singing to his shadows.

@illyrianbastards

Smiles, Holly ;)

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