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kayjayjwrites · 2 months

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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oristian · 7 days

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ELUCIEN | GWYNRIEL — MAASVERSE SPOILERS

I tend to see posts and videos from a multitude of people who seem to be reluctant to accept foreshadowing in the ACOTAR books—specifically regarding the endgame couples to finish out the overall series. As this post is simply beating a dead horse down, I find that it is very much needed as a specific group of people lack the capacity to understand the books.

Foreshadowing is not meant to be obvious. There are, of course, cases where it is relatively obvious, but only within the parameters of back-to-back scenes. Foreshadowing is meant to be picked up on, but to be fully understand later on in the story when everything comes to fruition. Examples of foreshadowing include color descriptions, specific use of language, emphasis on certain scenes, emphasis surrounding specific objects, et cetera. If something happens obviously and you can read the scene as-is, it is not foreshadowing.

I see many people who ship Elriel claim that there is buildup across the entire series that foreshadows why they will be endgame. As the books do not support that claim, it is outlandish and a spread of misinformation. Allow me to disprove this theory using the books alone:

— 🌸 ACOTAR: Zero interactions between Elain and Azriel as Azriel had not been introduced as a character yet. This book highlighted Feyre surmising that Elain would thrive within the Spring Court, that her sister enjoyed typical emissary work, and instead introduced Lucien as a character.

— 🦢 ACOMAF: This is the first book where Elain and Azriel met, as is this is where many Elriels like to claim that the Elriel build-up begins. However, this book says otherwise. Elain and Azriel’s first meeting is neutral, quiet conversation to ease a tense situation as Nesta/Feyre/Cassian/Rhys were creating an uncomfortable atmosphere and Elain meant to ease it. This book highlighted how in love Azriel was with Mor and how Elain was engaged to Grayson. Many Elriels also claim that the color of Elain’s dress in this first meeting—being cobalt—is indicative of endgame between she and Azriel. However, cobalt is also the signature color of Grayson’s family crest. Their interactions die out after that first meeting and instead focus on Feysand again. The throne room scene in Hybern also showed the beginning of Elucien and their mate bond, while Azriel was on the floor reaching for Mor. (I go more into this on my Tik Tok page: @oristian)

— 🔥 ACOWAR: When Feyre returns to the Night Court after her month in Spring, she finds that Elain has been within a catatonic state for the entirety of that month and has shown no signs of recovering—that is, until Lucien came along. Elain began eating and moving around once he came and after tugging on the mating bond, her visions first started showing. themselves. Everyone likes to credit Azriel for most of this, but all that Azriel did (take her to the garden) was suggested previously by Lucien. Lucien, who was not able to be alone with her due to Nesta and Feyre. Next, everyone tends to say that Azriel “saw” Elain when he named her power. “What we need is …” Contradicts such a thing. Naming a power does not cure someone of their trauma. Lucien is also canonically the first character to take Elain’s visions seriously and went in search of Vassa, ultimately finding Papa Archeron and creating an even deeper connection into the Koschei plot arc with Elain. This is also where we get the iconic half-step on the stair scene.

Elain is now kidnapped by the cauldron portraying itself as Graysen—Elain wanting so badly to be with her previous lover. This is a scene where many Elriels claim that it is supportive of Elriel being endgame. However, it is within character for Azriel to save someone, especially people close to him. Certainly, Elain being appreciative of being saved and kissing him on the cheek is cute, but that is not enough “foreshadowing” for an endgame. Next, Azriel hands her Truth Teller after Elain refused other weapons. Elain is hesitant and only agrees to take it once Feyre chimes in that she will not have to use it. Juxtapose this with Elain immediately giving it back after the battle is over, not saying a word, and instead falling into conversation with Lucien. Lucien, who is canonically the only character to credit her for assisting with ending the King of Hybern.

— 🌨️ ACOFAS: This is the buffer book that was meant to do two things: Establish Nessian as the next couple for the following book, and establish a clear love triangle between Azriel/Elain/Lucien. Elriels use this book to drive the idea of an Elriel endgame. While this book has scenes between Elain and Azriel, there is unfortunately no foreshadowing present enough to support that claim. This novella emphasizes, from a conversation between Rhys and Feyre, that Azriel may be inclined towards Elain due to her having traits that may remind him of his mother (Freud). We also have Solstice where Lucien brings Elain a gift—a gift that fully reflects her interests—Elain brings Azriel a gift, but Azriel does not bring Elain a gift. Azriel even questioning beforehand if he has to get the sisters a gift at all. Elain’s gift being superficial and more of a joke than anything truly meaningful to them as a relationship.

— 🗡️ ACOSF: The book that ended Elriel. We have this book set up as PRE-BONUS CHAPTER | BONUS CHAPTER | POST BONUS CHAPTER. In the pre-bonus chapter, we have a few scenes between Elain and Azriel that is a glance, or a very small interaction. The infamous scene that Elriels like to use to “prove” that his shadows actually like Elain is the scene where Cassian says that Nesta upset Elain and his shadows seemed poised to strike. His shadows reacted to his anger, not to Elain. Next, the Solstice scene where Azriel refused to be within the room due to the mating bond between Elain and Lucien and Nesta seeing that he was interested in Elain—which is never brought up again, however we do get a scene post bonus chapter of Nesta encouraging Gwyn and Azriel by calling him the “new ribbon.”

The bonus chapter ended Elriel officially as endgame. The chapter is told from Azriel’s POV and documents his lustful thoughts of Elain and how he wants a mate, hurt and confused why his brothers had two of the Archeron sisters and the third was given away to another male. Rhysand even asking Azriel what his plans are after seducing Elain and Azriel having none “past the fantasies he pleasures himself to.” This is also a chapter where Elriels like to claim that Elriel is a forbidden romance. ACOWAR Rhys clearly objects to this being the case. (I have a video on my Tik Tok going over this @oristian) The bonus chapter then moves to Azriel finding Gwyn, his shadows not warning him of her presence at the HoW. His shadows are curious about her and dance with her breath. Azriel then finds out that Elain rejected his necklace—the only Solstice gift that he has gotten her, and one he expressed as “nothing extraordinary”—and the next morning finds him re-gifting such to Gwyn. Azriel can picture her eyes lighting up at the gift and he smiles—this is also where mate language is used to describe the spark in his chest at the thought of her and the glow of the thought. “A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” A line that was used twice—one to describe the necklace, and another time to describe the thought of Gwyn.

Post bonus chapter has zero interactions between Elain and Azriel. The interactions between Azriel and Gwyn are charged and witty. Energetic. This is also where we see Azriel’s siphons glowing darker at the thought of the Valkyries in the Great Rite—the first instance that this has happened.

Next, we go into the last two remaining plot arcs: Koschei and Dusk Court. Both ACOSF and HOFAS have set Nesta up as the driver for the Dusk Court arc, with Azriel as the character to follow. With SJM’s Bloomsbury contract slating her to have two more main books with dual POV romantic interests, the Dusk Court arc book would only make sense having Gwyn and Azriel as the FMC and MMC of that arc. The Koschei arc has been carefully crafted for Elain and Lucien to be the FMC and MMC of that book, with both of them being set up for this since ACOWAR. Elain with her visions of Vassa, the lake, and Koschei’s black box, and Lucien being tied to Papa Archeron and Vassa and the mortals. (I have a video on my Tik Tok that goes more in depth with this @oristian)

— SUMMARY: Elain and Azriel do not have multiple books of foreshadowing, a Gwynriel and Elucien endgame is not fanservice, and the remaining two plot arcs do not support an Elriel endgame. If you have any problems with that, take it up with SJM.

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mxtantrights · 3 months

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where you go, I go

a/n: okay so while I'm writing this whole series for azriel just know that I had this other recurring dream about a plot like this. I couldn't really make it a fully fleshed out story with a happy ending so I decided to type it all out and make it a one-shot with angst and not a lot of comfort (this is your warning, this doesn't end happily) anyways with all of that said, if you decide to read this please enjoy and tell me what you think! <333 also happy valentines day <333

azriel x assassin!fem!reader

5.1k words

The day court was home to many things. Vibrant colors, warm waters, ancient books and of course the very ancient and magical day blade. It's your job to know where that this is at all times.

You can't possibly understand why the shadow singer would try to steal it. Try being the operative word here. While you did sense him enter your court and break into the room where the blade was, it wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing as it is your job to protect the blade at all costs, it never leaves your sight. But that didn't mean you couldn't have fun with those who wanted so badly to get it.

In your pocket you feel a piece of paper appearing suddenly. You reach inside and unfold it. It's Helion. He's requesting your presence. You smile to yourself, this would be fun.

You leave your hiding place, the palace had many hidden rooms and hallways, and walk over to Helion's day room. As you approach from the hallway you can hear multiple conversations being had.

The door is closed so you open it slightly.

"There she is! Come in and greet my guests!" he says happily.

You make sure you face is kept neutral. You had an image to upkeep in this court.

The people respect you and fear you in the same breath. You don't go around killing people but you do often get justice in ways that aren't in the parameters of the law. Whether that be stringing up robbers and looters from their pants, or burning down the houses of dirty criminals.

You keep your eyes straight, not looking any of his guests in the eye. You walk until you are standing behind Helion who sits in his usual seat.

"I was just telling Feyre that I enjoy the new company. This is the inner circle." he says to you.

You nod once.

"She doesn't talk?" Nesta asks.

You know all of them. It's your duty to know The Who's who of the courts. The inner circle of the night court. High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre-Curse breaker. Her sisters Elaine and Nesta. Rhysand's brothers Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan, past fiancee of Eris Vanserra. Amren, a mythical creature of serious power.

Helion laughs at Nesta's question. He knows you talk. He knows you very well, seeing as he practically raised you. But that information isn't public knowledge.

"She does, but not when theres something wrong." Helion answers.

You look at all of them now. How the girl closest to the shadow singer, Elaine, looks worried. And it's quick, you almost don't catch it, but you're so good at your job at this point.

"Trouble in the day court?" Rhysand says.

You lean over and whisper into Helion's ear about the blade. How the shadow singer came here to steal it, on a mission from his high lord. How he thinks he got away with it.

The room goes quiet as you pull back and Helion sits back in his chair. He loves the dramatics you pull off every single time someone tries to take the blade. The last person you caught was really delighted to be drowned in glitter, confetti and manure.

"Is there something you're forgetting?" Helion asks.

Rhysand looks at his inner circle with an incredulous smile. Then he looks to you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You can't imagine this will go over well either.

You can't feel it. The daemati powers that certain fae have don't work on you. You're not really sure why. Might have something to do with your unknown lineage. Or your overall hardheadedness-so Helion says.

Rhysand cocks his head to the side at your unmoving posture. He's still looking at you. You however are taking in the shadow singer. He's sitting there, not bothering to look at anyone. He must really think he got the blade.

"What would that be?" Feyre asks this time.

"Well, when you want something that another has you usually ask." Helion says.

At that everyone at the table grows grim. Caught red handed is what it seems like. You still manage to hide you smile though.

"Helion..." Rhysand starts.

"If you were anyone else I would have you locked up already. But lucky for me my security system is top notch." Helion smiles and grabs his glass for another sip of what could only be wine.

At his words the shadow singer now looks at the high lord. Your high lord. His face bares no emotion, like he can't afford to give a way a secret or smile.

You've heard about his reputation. But at this point that's all it is. He couldn't even steal from you correctly. This has to be the most interesting thing that's happened this year. You don't get around to much outsider business, you tend to stay out of it.

"I don't think it is." the shadow singer says.

Helion stifles a laugh. But you can hear it. And you know if you can hear it they all can. The room is big but not big enough that guests at a table can't hear things.

"Care to relieve them of their misery?" he looks up to you and asks.

You didn't really want to. But then again you'd have to play nice with them. Helion seems to like this group. Or most likely, his son is friends with this group and he wants to be friends with his son.

You sigh, "Take out the blade."

You watch in amusement as everyone at the table looks at each other. As if they all don't know what they really came here for. The shadow singer though, he's different. He's looking right at you.

His shadows materialize the blade right on the table for everyone to see. Cassian, gives him a look. But Azriel doesn't seem to see it or care.

"That's not the blade." Helion quips.

You call the blade to you with your powers. Being gifted with the ability to control sun made objects is fun most of the time. Most living things are sun made in a sense. So really you could control all things, to a certain extent.

The blade comes flying into your hand. As soon as it makes contact with your skin it transforms. The metal of the blade turns into a vibrant green stem. And the helm turns into the face of a sunflower.

Azriel seems to go through a range of emotions. First confusion. Then understanding. And then the last one, well you can't actually pin down the last one. You've gotten good at reading people but he's harder than others.

"The blade is safe in the day court, where it will remain until you ask for it." Helion says.

Rhysand lets of a breath, "I am sorry about lying, but we're short on time."

"And I thought our alliance was stronger than that. I am sorry too." Helion replies.

Helion stands from his seat, causing the others to match his actions. The sound of chairs on marble floors reaches your ears. You take a step back and cross your hands behind your back.

"We need the blade for a mission." Feyre speaks.

"It could be a simple mission or the end of the world. The fact that you have no respect to ask me tells me everything I need to know." Helion says casually.

You know that he is hurt by their lying. It's not deep, but it's there. He thought he could trust them. He thought because they had good relations with him before that they were better than the actions they are displaying right now.

Of course you know of the good bond between them. Which is why you don't understand why they didn't just ask. Unless there is a well justified reason. Why not ask the high lord for the blade unless he was implicated somehow.

How could Helion be implicated in a mission from the night court. He doesn't know anything, or he would have offered them the blade himself. No this is something he's not at the center of. But it still concerns him.

Lucien. You look at the guests around the room. He is no where to be found. True he's not part of the inner circle. He's an emissary. But if it was something the inner circle could simply ask Helion for, why not butter him up with his son?

Lucien may or may not know what going on.

"Where's Lucien?" you ask.

At you question all of the heads move to you. Right, you hadn't spoken to them this whole time. Well you weren't going to give them a smile and greet them kindly.

"What business do you have with him?" Nesta asks.

"He's in Spring. Managing relations." Rhysand answers.

You nod your head. Spring. If that answer can even be trusted. Let's say you do trust it for the moment.

The inner circle needs the day blade. They didn't want to ask for it. They didn't let Lucien come.

"Were you planning on returning it?" you ask again.

Nesta, rolls her eyes at your question. You can't help the giddiness you feel of getting under her skin. You hardly did anything to warrant it. But it felt kind of good.

"As soon as we were done." Azriel answers this time.

You don't ignore the stress he puts not he word soon. You also don't ignore the way his eyes seem to never leave yours.

"That blade is our most powerful weapon. We don't just give it out to anyone." Helion chimes in.

He maneuvers around his chair and stands behind you. When he grips both of your shoulders with his hands, you can tell he's smiling even if you can't see him.

"But I will let you use it," Helion continues, "on one condition."

"Go ahead." Rhysand says.

"Wherever the blade goes, she goes." Helion says.

"That won't be necessary." Nesta says.

At the same time Cassian says, "That's odd."

Helion shrugs his shoulders and lets go of you. He leans into your ear to whisper his next words very carefully. When you understand him and what he wants, you nod your head only once.

He grabs the sunflower from your hands as you uncross them from behind you. Helion stands next to you now. You watch as Helion brings the flower up to his nose and gives it a sniff.

"We agree to those terms." Azriel speaks up.

"Woah hold on-" Rhysand tries to cut in.

"Great. I think this will be beneficial to both courts." your high lord agrees.

You turn to face him now, your back towards the guests. Helion was looking at you with a very faint smile. You heard every word he whispered to you. And you understand the reason why: Family.

What you don't get it is why he won't just speak to Lucien himself. Why play nice with a high lord that knows his son when he can just reach out to him? Invite him to the day court or send him a letter.

Everyone in this room knows Lucien is Helion's son, except Lucien. And now your mission is to tell him so that he might finally have a true place to call home.

Helion wouldn't so easily agree to lending out the blade like this if it weren't for Lucien. And the night court wouldn't try to steal it if Lucien did know, because he could just ask on their behalf.

Your shoulders sag at the thought. You had no interactions with Lucien. You only ever heard of him from Helion and he only started referring to him as his son a couple of months ago.

It'll be you. You'll be the one to see him, come eye to eye to him, and tell him the truth.

You can see it in his eyes. The sadness. You'd do anything for him. He's a father figure to you. And you'll see this through, for his sake and Lucien's too.

"Promise me you'll smile a little bit during your trip." Helion says.

"The Sun Wraith doesn't smile." you answer.

"You're the Sun Wraith?" Cassian's voice asks.

You turn around and face the general. It's all over his face. The look of shock. It wasn't hard to become something of a legend in this court and the ones surrounding it.

"Even people in the night court are scared of you." Nesta says.

On her face seems to be another emotion. Not fear. Not shock. Something lighter amongst the surface. Admiration maybe? You aren't too sure.

"I'll grab my things." you say to no one in particular.

"And the blade." Azriel's voice sounds.

"I never go anywhere without it." you say, reaching behind you.

Grabbing the flaps of your yellow vest you flip it over and your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade. You pull it out for all of them to see.

"Best security in all of the courts." Helion jokes.

THREE WEEKS LATER

The mission has barely begun and you hate it here. You hate it in the night court. The days are shorter and you feel pale without even looking into a mirror most days. Nothing beats the sun of the day court on your skin.

Amren had told you it would get better. After your first meeting she had taken a liking to you. You were told by several members in the inner court that it was no easy feat. She talked to you the most out of everyone.

Second to her, came Nesta who was just curious about the things you allegedly did or did not do. You held off on telling her anything too juicy. It was funny toying with her with the details. She also likes your fighting style. Morrigan too.

Azriel talks to you. Sometimes. He's friendly to a point. Cassian is more friendlier than him but you're starting to understand it's just in his nature. Feyre and Rhysand are cordial. Elaine is, well you've been told that she's nice but you haven't really seen it. She greets you but that's it.

The inner circle didn't get on your nerves. But you also had your own mission. Deliver the news to Lucien that Beron isn't his father, Helion is.

Which is why though this whirlwind of a mission you're laying down on path of grass outside of the House of Wind. Weird. What was even weirder was the fact that Velaris, a secret city inside of the night court, has existed for so long with no one none the wiser.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to turn your brain off. It wasn't working. The sun wasn't the same, it does't feel the same. You can't call off this mission either.

"Is this what you do in the day court?"

You'd know that voice anywhere. Which is weird to say as you've known the male for a couple of weeks now. But it's true. Azriel's voice was distinguishable from others. A bit low, but still soft. Clear.

"Yes." you answer.

"Is that all the explanation you can give me?"

"Yes."

You think he'll go away. He plays nice because you have the blade. He needs the blade, which means he needs you. Once he no loner needs the blade he won't need you.

When you hear the sound of him getting closer you want so badly to open your eyes. But you don't. You keep them closed. As much as you want to open them and see what he's doing.

The sound of him laying down beside you on the grass is one you weren't expecting. Also the feeling of soft cold tendrils nipping at your arm.

"It feels...nice. A bit cold." he speaks.

Of course he'd complain about he cold. Nesta had told you that Illyrians were whiny babies. You'd seen it personally when Cassian couldn't get a certain dish because there were no more potatoes for the day.

And now here his brother is. Complaining.

You hold up your left hand, the one close to him.

"Give me your hand." you command.

You half expect him to decline. To maybe even get up and leave. Or maybe say that he doesn't mind the cold. The other half of you expects him to just listen you-to see where it goes.

He takes your hand. You focus on letting the additional warmth you normally feel from the sun flow from your hand and into his.

Out of all the things you half expect and do expect, his laugh is something you don't plan for. It's deep. It comes from his core. It's gentle too. Which you wouldn't get just from looking at him.

"It's warm." he says.

"That's how the sun feels in the day court." you answer.

"I think you just spoke more than three words to me."

You scoff, "Don't get used to it."

"That was four words."

"Shut up."

"Two. We're regressing."

"Azriel."

"I'll be quiet now."

This is how you spend your time. If you are not training with Morrigan, Amren and Nesta. Or not eating with Cassian in the kitchen. You are laying out on the grass with Azriel in the sun.

It happens more times than you care to admit as the mission goes on.

ONE MONTH LATER

This place, Velaris, was starting to grow on you. You didn't want to admit that out loud, or in your letters to Helion. Or how well you were gettign on with Azriel. The trips into the city, the lingering glances and words with hidden layers.

You letters should only have on subject, Lucien.

He has been back from the spring court for two weeks now. You've taken that time to get to know him. You couldn't fathom unleashing the truth on him as a stranger. You don't need to be his friend. But he needs to at least trust the words coming out of your mouth when you say them.

Family dinner they called it. Even though only three of them were related to each other. But you guess that what makes their family unique. They choose each other, every day.

This meal was special. Seeing as you had finished the mission that Helion sent you on to protect the blade. There was a fae that needed to be tracked down and would only come out of hiding if he could see the sun blade.

Of course you didn't let him, but you did convince him that the fake blade you passed onto him was the real thing. When he found it wasn't after he revealed his intentions with it he got angry.

Angry enough to rain hellfire down on both you and Azriel. If it weren't for your fast thinking and powers you both wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Now you're sat with the inner circle to celebrate your feat.

Someone clears their throat. This drags your gaze from the redheaded male to the dark haired one. The both of them were sitting in front of you.

How the mother is cruel and precious at the same time. One male is your mission which you planned for. The other male you didn't plan for, and yet...

"Az was asking if you miss home." Morrigan says from your side.

"Dearly. But its not bad here." You speak, not quite realizing what you just did.

You watch as Azriel's smile grows and grows on is lips. It hits you then.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I take it back." you say to him.

"No I don't think I will." he jokes.

You shake your head with a light laugh. You can pick up on his laugh too from across the table.

"Well if it means anything, you fit in well here." Amren speaks up.

Everyone at the table quiets down at that. You look over at her, peering around Morrigan. You nod once at the sentiment.

"You need to tell him." Elaine says suddenly.

You look to her sharply. She's gotten better about speaking to you. More than a greeting but still less than a conversation. It does weird you out some times but you let it go for the most part.

"Oh?" you ask rhetorically.

"Elaine I don't think we should discuss this here." Feyre starts.

"He needs to know." Elaine says again.

It upsets you. She is his mate. She is the one connected to him. She has known this secret longer than you. But you'll be the one to tell him? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. None of them do.

"What do I need to know?" Lucien asks all of a sudden.

You look to him. Hoping nothin is being given away by your face. When no one answers him he scoffs lightly to himself and looks around at the table.

This is happening now.

"It's obviously about me, none of you can look me in the eye except for her." Lucien continues.

"I can tell you, in private." you offer.

He nods his head and gets up from his seat. You follow his lead and get up too. The two of you walk out of the dining room and onto the balcony. You pull the door close behind you.

"Before you say anything, do they all know about this?" he asks.

He can't be asking about Elaine. She's the whole reason you're having this conversation right now. No, he's talking about Feyre. His friend. Or who he thought was his friend.

What can be left of a friendship after a lie like this?

"Yes." you answer simply.

Lucien shakes his head, "Okay, you can tell me now."

You take him in. The tense shoulders. The bowed head. His hair is perfectly combed behind his back. In this light, he looks like Helion. Not too much, but just enough.

How do you up end someone's life?

"Lucien do you ever think about what it felt like growing up with Beron as your father?" you ask.

Lucien looks at you sharply, "It was unspeakable. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"And it shouldn't have been yours either." you reply.

His brows furrow. Right in the middle like they want to meet so badly. You wonder if he's felt like an outsider before. If he's ever felt it amongst his brothers. The black sheep.

"When my mission is over here, do you think you could come back with me to the day court?" you ask softly.

His face goes from confusion to somewhat understanding. But you haven't told him enough for him to completely get what you're saying, what you're asking of him.

"A couple of times Eris tried to make me visit the day court." Lucien admits.

You nod your head at that. Of course. Ever the perfect actor. You knew him for a little slice of time in your life. A period in which you won't ever forget. He was your first kiss. You were young and kids, trying to figure out your own way in life.

Kissing Eris, the treacherous fox of the autumn court, was every bit exciting at your age. You gossiped, and word got around. But he didn't deny it. For all the lies and manipulation he pulled you thought he might say you were delusional, that you had made it all up. But he backed you claim.

Eris knew Lucien wasn't Beron's son. Eris probably protected him as best he could. In his own, Eris way. Whatever that means.

"You can invite him too." you say.

Lucien looks past you. No doubt at the inner circle lingering inside. If you were in his position you wouldn't even go back in there. You'd never talk to any of them again.

"I'll take my leave now, but thank you. For being honest." he says.

You give him a small smile, "To be clear I was to tell you the news in a gentle manner. What just happened was out of my hands."

"I get it. I'll see you around." he says.

You bid him goodbye. Then he's walking past you. You hear the door open and how voices inside seem to call his name. You don't hear him respond to any of them. You hear the front door slam.

With a breath you turn around and head back inside too. When you do everyone is looking right at you. It unnerves you. You hate it.

"I've done your dirty work now. I think I'll call it a night." you speak.

"He didn't deserve to find out like that." Feyre says.

"You're right, he deserved honesty from his friends." you retort.

"You were sent here to tell him the truth. Am I wrong?" Rhysand asks.

You turn to face him clearly. You can't believe he just said that. You cannot believe he formed the words with his mouth to say that to you.

Without saying another word you walk right out of the dinning room. You ignore Nesta and Amren calling out to you. And you ignore the shadow that walks with you right out of the room and into he hallway.

As soon as you get inside of your guest room the shadow disappears.

SUNRISE, THE NEXT DAY

You're skip training and packing for home instead. You wish you could pack faster but that isn’t possible. You don’t want to be here for another second. Not in this court, not among the inner circle.

When you throw in your last few shirts into the luggage a knock raps on the door. You don’t know who it is, but if it is Rhysand or Elaine you won’t open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask.

“It's me, can you open up?”

You go over to the door and open it. Standing there on the threshold is Azriel.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” You say.

His eyes seem to widen at that. You watch as he peers over you and takes in the bareness of the room, and the packed luggage. He straightens himself out.

“Why so soon? It feels like you just got here.” He replies.

Based on his words alone he doesn’t want you to leave. You can feel it too. How it’s only been a month or so but the two of you are comfortable around each other.

You sigh, “The mission is over.”

“And we’re back to this? Four word sentences?” He asks.

“Azriel.”

He looks down both sides of the hallway. His head turning left then right. Then he’s turning back to you. He looks nervous. Antsy. He doesn’t normally look that way. He’s usually so composed.

He takes you by surprise. He side steps into the room and closes the door behind him. At that you know your eyes go wide. He holds up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for that but I just—are you mad at me?” He asks.

You scoff, “Yes I am.”

“Okay I knew that, but I was also confused because on that mission you saved my life.”

“Hardly.” You answer simply.

He groans at your one word answer, “You made sure those arrows didn’t plant themselves in my wings. You made sure I was safe.”

“It was nothing.”

“No it was something.”

You’re catching on now to how tense he is. Tense or nervous you can’t tell. His eyes are frantic. His breathing is also uneven. And his shadows are fully out on display now.

You do the one thing you can think of. You reach out for his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice it. When you make contact he looks you in the eye. “Please calm down.” You whisper.

He bows his head, his hair covering his face now. All of a sudden he sinks to his knees. The action catches you completely off guard.

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You focus on sending him warmth from your hand. In a second you can see his shoulders begin to shake. From this angle you can’t tell just yet if it’s what you think it is.

So you bring your free hand to the side of his face. You feel it. In the palm of your hand you feel his wet cheek. He’s crying. Azriel the shadow singer is crying, on his knees in front of you.

“I could have died and for the first time in a very long time I felt this deep regret in the bottom of my belly.” He chokes out.

What would he have to regret?

Slowly you drag you hand down his cheek. You place your pointer finger under his chin. Titling his head up, you meet his eyes. From this close you hadn’t realize how many shades of brown they hold.

“Azriel, you’re okay. I promise you you’re okay.” You whisper.

He shuts his eyes, more tears flowing down his face now.

“I don’t think I will be.” He admits.

“Why?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again.

“Because you hate us now, you’ll never come back here.” He answers.

In a sense he was right. Not totally. You didn’t hate the inner circle. You just couldn’t stand what they did last night. How they acted, how none of them would fess up. Even though some of them had known Lucien for a long time.

But you didn’t hate them. You didn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you.” You reply.

“I could see it on your face last night. And now, you’re leaving so quickly. You want nothing to do with us.” He adds on.

There’s silence between the two of you. The emotions Azriel is feeling right now feel heavy. Way too heavy for someone he’s only spent about two months with.

You had heard many rumors about him. But him being like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve like this? You don’t think you could have ever imagined it.

Remembering that he’s waiting for you to answer, you remember to speak.

“Yes I’m upset and I want to go home. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Azriel I really enjoyed my time with you.” You speak.

You don’t realize it but your hand is stroking his now.

He gives you a look you can’t figure out, “Why does it feel like that time is over already? Like I’ll never see you again?”

He reaches up and places your hand on his cheek again. You don’t emit the warmth from there but he nuzzles into your hand like you are. His thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand there.

“You talk like everything is set in stone. Like there is only one path.” You say.

“I can just, sense it.” He explains barely.

You shake you head, “Azriel I was always going to leave.”

“Not like this. Last night changed everything.” He says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

“Get up.”

He looks at you, a bit of shock. You watch as he follows your command and gets back on his feet. He keeps your hand pressed to his face the whole time. Your other hand falls to your side.

“You can come visit me.” You say.

He’s silent. Silent but he nods his head at your words. You’re not sure if he believes you fully. But it’s enough. He wipes the tears from his face. His wings perk up, off the floor now.

You wrap your arms around his body before you can think against it. Instantly you feel his arms around you. Pulling you closer. He rests his head on top of yours. It feels right. It feels natural. No, it feels like something else too.

It feels the exact same way the sunlight in the day court feels on your skin. Like it is meant to be.

part two here!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel one shot #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar one shot

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violetasteracademic · 21 days

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On Mate Behavior: Elriel

So, when it comes to Azriel's mate behavior, I would say the most commonly discussed point (which I definitely agree with) to *disprove* that Azriel displays any mate behavior towards Gwyn is his overall calm demeanor and focus on Eris when the Valkyrie are kidnapped in the middle of the night and dropped into the Blood Rite.

However, there is another example that additionally highlights the lack of "mate behavior" in the bonus chapter, and I truly don't see it come up that often, though I think it is even more telling!

When he meets Gwyn's gaze, and that bloody memory of when he first "met" her (if you would like to call that their meeting) flashes, he is otherwise completely unruffled. He simply reflects on Gwyn's growth, and two seconds later, is snorting and having an easy, playful conversation.

While this certainly points to their comfortability and fun banter that they share, it does not scream *mate behavior.*

ToG and CC spoilers ahead

I think about Rowan seeing Aelin's ruined back for the first time, and being so overcome with anger at discovering the violence that had been enacted on her that he took to the skies to get control of his violent instincts:

I think of Cassian in his bonus chapter with Nesta- going into a rage as he smelled Nesta's fear while she recalled Tomas's attempted assault. He would have gone to kill him right then, I have no doubt:

I think of Ruhn hating Lidia, being sick over discovering the female he had fallen for was The Hind. And yet, when Pollux lays a hand on her, he was ready to rip out his throat for hurting Lidia. He couldn't understand how he could hate her and need her and want to kill for her at the same time:

So I do think it's interesting that in comparison to the to the other mated males who get a POV and an inside look into their heads while they reflect on trauma their mates have been through (even before knowing they are mates, which is the case in all three of these examples) they are completely unhinged. And yet we get this pointed moment where Azriel actively reflects on Gwyn's trauma, the absolute horrors that had been done to her and... nothing. A snort, and a little bit of form correction and teasing.

Meanwhile in this same book, Elain gets called boring and Azriel's shadows are like hoe who do we need to mf-ing end right tf now:

Azriel has already established that he believes the Cauldron could be wrong. While I personally disagree that there is foreshadowing to Azriel and Gwyn being mates, even in trying to give it a fair and unbiased look and say okay- could they be mates? I still wind up drawing the conclusion that even if they are, it would mean as little to Azriel as Elain's mating bond currently means to her.

I am personally super open minded about whether or not Azriel and Elain are true mates. I think a reveal that they are could be lovely. I also think them choosing each other above all, even fate, would be lovely.

But there is simply no denying that these two already have a set up plotline of questioning the Cauldron, and the only two characters *acting* like mates in this scenario are Az and Elain.

As always, I am Lucien and Gwyn positive even though I ship Elriel, so be kind in the comments! But I just really don't see how this could possibly play out any other way. Azriel has had too many on page opportunities, even from his personal POV, to display mate behavior towards Gwyn and there is nary a lick. It's just... not how a lead up to a mate reveal typically goes. So the pure, undiluted facts are that even if you think Sarah is a "fated mate" author above all, she is not treating these characters as she usually does. And that is noteworthy.

Thank you for joining me on this dissertation!

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elriel endgame #azriel x elain #elriel supremacy

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daycourtofficial · 3 months

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Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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hellcat8908 · 3 months

Text

Love Me For Me Cassian x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Minor Injury

You had been avoiding Cassian ever since the mating bond snapped a few weeks ago. It was clear that it had only snapped for you, though. You had tried to avoid him by volunteering for extra missions and training with Azriel instead. You were training on the balance beam Azriel had helped you build, wanting to improve your balance during combat. Azriel stood watching and offering corrections while you practiced jumping and lunging strikes. You were feeling more confident in your body and had noticed a difference overall since you started using the beam. You seemed more agile, and your strength seemed to improve.

As you were practicing a jump, Cassian came storming over, "What do you think you're doing?!" He shouted, distracting you and causing you to twist your ankle as you tried to land. The twisting of your ankle threw off your balance and sent you crashing to the ground. Azriel and Cassian were quick to get to your side. "Are you okay y/n?" Azriel asks as Cassian calls for Rhys to get Madja and bring her to the house of wind. Your eyes looked dazed as you tried to focus on Azriel. "I-I'm ok, just sore." You say trying to get up but feeling dizzy. "Stay there, Madja will be here soon." Cassian says. You ignore him, "I'm fine. You're making a big deal about nothing."

In a matter of moments, Rhys and Madja arrive. Madja instantly starts to examine you as she asks what happened. "She hurt her ankle and fell off the balance beam." Cassian says. "Tell her why she fell off the balance beam." Azriel says, annoyed. "You do realize I can speak for myself, right?" You say annoyed at both of them. "Y/n, tell us what happened, please." Rhys says, trying to ease the tension. "I was training on the balance beam when Cassian came out of nowhere and yelled, "What do you think you're doing?! Which caused me to become distracted, and I twisted my ankle, causing me to fall." You answer.

"Well, your ankle is more than twisted. I'm afraid it's broken." Madja says. "Great, so now I'm out a couple of days, thanks, Cassian!" You say angrily. "Well, if you hadn't been avoiding me, this wouldn't have happened!" Cassian says. "Or you could've not yelled at me. That's an option." You say. "Both of you stop!" Rhys says, getting tired of your bickering. Madja sets your ankle and tells you to take it easy for a couple of days to let it fully heal. "Come on, I'll help you inside." Azriel says. "No, I will. We still have things to discuss." Cassian says as he picks you up. "I don't need to be carried." You grumble, secretly loving being in his arms. "Shut up and let me take care of you." He says arrogantly.

He easily carries you into the house and to your room. He gently lays you on the bed before grabbing some pillows and elevating your ankle. He makes sure you're comfortable before he pulls up a chair and sits beside your bed, "Now will you tell me why you're avoiding me?" You fidget with your nails, "I'm not avoiding you, I've been busy." You say. "Come on, you and I both know you're avoiding me, and I want to know what I did to make you." He says. "Nothing, Cass," you say as you lay back and stare at the ceiling. His fingers gently draw your gaze to him, "Clearly I did something because you'll barely look at me." "Cass, please." You say barely above a whisper.

"Was I that mean to you and didn't even realize it?" He says, sounding hurt. "I can't, Cassian. I can't handle the thought of you only being with me because something says you should. I can't handle not being good enough for you to love me on my own. I can't handle knowing you'll never look at me the way you look at Nesta. Everything you say and do will be tainted, and I can't handle it." You admit as tears pool in your eyes. "You're my mate?" He says, realizing what you're saying. "Please leave," you say as you turn away from him, "I want to be alone."

Cassian sits in shock as he feels the bond snap, tying him to you. He reluctantly gets up and leaves your room. You silently cry as you lay facing the wall. To most finding your mate was everything, but to you, it was a curse. You hated the idea of fate deciding who you should be with. You had nothing against Cassian. You did love him. You'd grown to love him over the years. To watch him pining over Nesta had brought you back to reality. You realized he would never be yours, and you accepted it. Seems like fate had other plans, though. You didn't want his love because the bond compelled him to love you. You wanted him to love you on his own free will. Eventually, you cried yourself to sleep.

The next day, you refused to see anyone. The house is keeping your door firmly locked for you. Occasionally, a fresh glass of water and some fruit or yogurt would appear on your nightstand. You always made sure to thank the house. Later that day, you decided to attempt a shower. You managed to make your way into the shower. You were glad to scrub the grime from training the day before away. Once you were ready to get out, you slipped and fell. You tried to get up, but your injured ankle hurt too badly. You sat crumpled on the floor as you called out for Azriel.

You waited a few moments in silence before trying again. Your bedroom door unlocked as footsteps approached. A knock came at the bathroom door, "are you alright?" Cassian asked. You let out a groan, "Where's Azriel?" Cassian rolls his eyes, "He's in Illyria with Rhys, Feyre is taking care of Nyx, and Mor is still visiting the summer court with Amren. You're stuck with me, princess." He says. "Fine, come in." You answer. A moment later, the door opens. "I fell." You state obviously. He grabs a towel for you to cover up with, "I can see that. Why were you in the shower?" You roll your eyes, "the acoustics are so great in here I thought I'd sing naked karaoke." You answer sarcastically.

"Ok, smartass, I get it." He says before bending down to pick you up. He sits you on the vanity, "Where are your clothes?" "I was going to change in my room." You answer. "Stay here and dry off, I'll grab your clothes." He says. You work on drying off before he comes back with shorts and an oversized shirt. He bunches up the shirt and slips it over your head before grabbing the shorts and working them up your legs. "Can you lift up so I can get these on you?" He asks as he reaches your thighs. You lift up the best you can as he slides your shorts up. "Now back to bed." He says sternly before carrying you back.

After making sure you're comfortable, he turns to leave. "Hey, Cass," you say, stopping him in his tracks, "thank you." You say sheepishly. "No problem, princess." He says with a certain sadness before leaving you alone. You lay there staring at the ceiling, day turns into night and brings a soft knock to your door. "Come in." You call. The door slowly opens, revealing Rhys. You're a little sad it isn't Cassian but quickly hide it. "Heard you fell, are you alright?" He asks as he enters. "I'm fine, just being clumsy." You say with an empty laugh. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks as he sits on the edge of your bed.

"Do I have a choice?" You ask. "Well, you can participate in the conversation, or you can listen to me monologue...and you know how much I love to monologue." He says with a grin, making you roll your eyes. "You should really give Cass a chance." You let out an annoyed sigh, "Rhys, I want someone to love me for me and not because some stupid bond tells them to." You say. "I understand and respect that, I think you'll find that given the chance, Cass does love you for you. You're both too stubborn to realize it."How can I be certain now that the bond is in place?" You ask.

"Give him a chance to show that he's loved you all along, let go of your worries and just listen and observe." Rhys says. "If I do this and it doesn't work out, you'll leave me alone about it?" You ask. "As long as you give him an honest chance." He says. "Fine." You reluctantly agree. "But I decide when, I don't want to be trapped in this bed." You say. "Fair enough." He says with a smirk as you roll your eyes. He excuses himself, leaving you to rest. A few days pass with various people checking in on you, including Cassian.

Cassian knocks on your door before entering with Madja. "Please give me good news." You beg the healer as she checks your ankle. "You're good to resume your normal life. Just ease back into training and don't overdo it." She tells you with a smile. "Thank the mother!" You say excitedly as yku move to stand and walk around. "How does it feel?" Madja asks. "Good as new." You say. "Just don't go overboard." She says before excusing herself. You turn your attention to Cassian, "ice cream?" You ask with a grin. "Yeah, what flavor do you want?" He asks. "No, Cassian. Do you want to go with me and get ice cream?" You ask. "Are you asking me out?" He teases. "Don't make me regret this." You say.

You were happy to sit outside with Cassian eating ice cream. It was a mich needed change of scenery. He managed to keep the conversation light as you two enjoyed the ice cream. After you finished, he asked if you felt up for a walk. You accepted as he led you to a nearby park. "How have you been?" You ask after a few moments of silence. "Alright, better now that you're ok." He says quietly. "Cass, be honest." You say nudging him. "You don't want the honest answer." He says, staring off ahead of you.

"I always want the honest answer, and if you want me to accept being your mate, you won't lie to me." You say. "Like you lied to me for weeks about being mates and avoiding me?" He says with a raised brow. "I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you." You answer. "Same thing." He says. "I'm not alright. These last few days have been miserable. I wanted nothing more than to take care of you, but you didn't want me to." He says as you keep walking. "Cassian, I want you to love me for me and not because the bond tells you to." You say trying to explain your reasoning. "I do love you for you, I have for years, but I didn't think you'd ever love me." He says.

"That was why I started pursuing Nesta." He states. "All the times I took care of you over the years when you were sick or injured, the gifts you always said were perfect for Solstice. Everything kind I've done over the years was out of love for you. The bond hasn't made me love you. it's only amplified the feeling." He declares. "Cassian, I had no idea, I don't know what to say." You tell him. "Let's get you home. You've had enough for one day." He says using your ankle as an excuse. You let him take you home where you go back to your room. You stayed there the rest of the night, thinking about what Cassian said and reflecting over the last few years.

You remember all the little things he's done for you. How he always was the first one to offer you any sort of comfort. How he always took care of you when you were injured, no matter how small. He was always your person, but you only looked at it as him being a good friend. You noticed the subtle flush of his cheeks when you complimented him. The way his eyes would linger when you trained on hot days wearing shorts and tank tops. He was always the first one to notice when you were struggling mentally. It was always him, and you'd been blind until now.

The next morning, you decided you needed to tell Cassian how you felt. You made your way to his room and knocked. There was no answer, so you pushed the door open, revealing an empty room. You ran outside to check the training area. Cassian wasn't around to be found. His end of the bond was dark, shielded from you. You mentally reached out to Rhys asking where Cassian was. He told you he had left for a mission and would be gone for a few days. You thanked him for telling you before you put your shields back up. You made your way back into the house, but instead of going to your room, you make your way to his.

You grab one of his shirts from the closet and change into it before climbing in his bed. Losing yourself in the scent of him that lingers on his blankets. You stay there until you fall asleep. You continue to stay in Cassian's room and wear his shirts until he comes home. You checked the bond each day, but he never opened his end. You left your end open in case he changed his mind or needed you. For the few days he was gone, it was silent and dark.

You were curled up in his bed sleeping when he opened the door and stepped in. He was startled to find you in his room, let alone in his bed. He had gone to Illyria to get away for a few days and check on the camps. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed beside you, causing you to stir. "It's just me. Go back to sleep." He says softly. You settle back in, and he smiles at how cute you look. He wonders how long you've been in his room until he notices his blankets smell more like you than him. As he starts to drift off, you turn over and lay your head on his chest. He carefully wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, "Sweet dreams, princess." He says gently.

You wake up with a start feeling a hard body against you. You look over and see Cassian still sleeping. You start looking him over for any injuries and find none. You can't help but notice how peaceful he looks while he sleeps. "I can feel you staring," he says sleepily, "go back to bed, it's too early." You can't help but smile, "Fine, i'll just ask Azriel to train with me since my mate is too tired." You tease. Cassian opens his eyes, "did you just say what I think you said?" You nod, "unless you're rejecting -" He cuts you off by pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss, Breaking it moments later, "I would never reject you."

#acotar #sarah j maas #batboys #acotar fanfic #acotar angst #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #acotar fic

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thisblogisaboutabook · 4 months

Note

Hello lovely!! Would you ever do a part 2 to Bad Idea right? Maybe the IC finds out about reader and Eris? 👀👀

I had planned for Part 1 to be a drabble only but I loved your ask so much that it’s going to be a short series now! I present to you, part 2. Thank you for this fun request!

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 2

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Sleeping with a male your dad hates is fun… until you get caught.

A follow up to the drabble “Bad Idea, Right?”

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language

Holy mother and all the bullshit gods my ancestors prayed to, I’m so royally fucked.

A necklace. A damned necklace, and my family’s overall inability to mind their own business, sent everything spiraling.

Nobody paid any mind to the jewelry I chose for Starfall until Amren set her eyes on the unique amber and gold hued necklace dangling from my neck - coveting the thing. Its unique jewels apparently something she’d never seen in her over 15,000 years of living.

Lucien, who had come with Vassa, Jurian, and Helion in tow, of course, overheard the conversation. With his wealth of knowledge and abundant need to be the biggest know-it-all in the room, Lucien chimed in that the gems came from the Autumn Court, typically only worn by the leading family and their closest affiliates. His brows furrowed with contemplation as he waived a hand toward my décolletage asking, “Which makes me wonder, where did you come across this piece?”

Damn it, Lucien.

And damn it, Eris. Leave it the prick to give me a gift that’s as much of a pain in my ass as he is.

Reading the look on my face, Lucien and Vassa’s son, my childhood best friend, Adish cut in- “Oh, I uh, I gave it to her for her birthday a couple of years ago. I’m surprised you two forgot.”

Lucien and Vassa looked to eachother in contemplation, not totally buying it, but not pressing further.

I mouthed a “thank you” to Adish before Amren pulled me back in to inspect the piece further.

Naturally, Uncle Rhys had step in at that moment - reusing the same joke that I have heard a hundred times since I was a child - Amren is a firedrake who will snatch the necklace right off me blah, blah, blah.

“It really is a lovely piece.” Aunt Feyre joined in, my mother, Aunt Nesta, and father with her. The three sisters inspecting it closely.

Holy shit, have these people never seen a necklace before?

I could have sworn that one of my shadows rolled it’s not existent eyes in agreement.

“Where did you get that?” Dad asked. “Apparently I need to keep it in mind for your mother and aunts for Solstice.”

“Oh, um, it’s from the Autumn Court, Adish gave it to me two years ago for my birthday.” I replied, innocently tracing a finger along the gems as I gave a forced smile.

It was then that my all-to-observant, spymaster jr., little sneak of a sister made her presence known. “No he didn’t! Adish got you a scarf from the continent that year.”

How the hell did this little shit remember these things!?

“Whatever, Azalea, it must have been a different year then.”

“No sissy! He never bought you a necklace - he bought you a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings, but never a necklace.”

Good gods. This child.

Rolling my eyes at my snoop of a sister, I coolly replied “Whatever, Azzy, I suppose my memory isn’t quite as good as yours.” Silently praying to whoever would listen that nobody pressed further. Dad’s shadows agitated but settled when my own shadows wound over to mingle with them.

Amren gave me a suspicious look that could only mean trouble - but fortunately kept her mouth shut. As the remainder of the group dispersed to interact with the crowd, Amren grabbed my arm.

“Be careful, girl. I know better than to tell you what to do, just… keep your wits about you.”

Her intense eyes locked with mine to which I shrugged the comment off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am not a fool, girl. I do not know you to be one either. Be careful.” the tiny fae chided as she sauntered off to find Varian.

Keeping a collected facade but needing some fresh air, I casually made my way toward a secluded balcony on the backside of the House of Wind.

Finally free of the crowd, I released all of the tension I’d been holding in, taking deep breaths in an effort of calming my nerves. I am an adult capable of making my own choices but… given the inner circles complicated history with Eris, and my fathers overall hatred of the male, I’d rather nobody know that we fuck each others brains out on occasion.

Frowning down at the necklace, I muttered curses to it that would make my mother, dear sweet Elain, keel over.

Too wrapped up in berating the jewelry, I didn’t notice the male behind me. I startled at the smooth voice cutting through the silence, his low tone dripping in lust. “Ah, little Shadowsinger, If you’d prefer a ring instead, I’m sure we could arrange that. Though I do say the necklace compliments your lovely assets quite well.” His eyes roved hungrily up and down my body, a primal gaze darkening those amber eyes and filled my core with heat. I nearly rolled my eyes back into my head as the intoxicating scent of mahogany and crackling fire filled my nostrils.

Regaining my wits and refusing to let him see how he effected me, I met those bedroom eyes with nothing but contempt. “Fuck off, Eris. Why are you here?”

He stepped closer. I stood my ground, no way was I going balk away from the challenge.

“Come now, little one, is that any way to speak to a High Lord? I was invited to the celebration tonight, as all of Prythian’s leaders were.”

Fair enough, but I wouldn’t let him win that easily. Waving him off, I commanded “Go find somewhere else to be a pain in the ass.”

Eris closed the distance, grabbing the wrist I had waived him away with. His head dipped down as his plush lips grazed the shell of my ear. His deep, sensual voice sent chills through me as he replied, “I can only promise pleasure when it comes to that beautiful ass, Y/N.”

Releasing my hand, Eris reached both hands around me, palms pressing into my ass as his fingers hitched my dress up to expose my thighs and barely clothed sex to the brisk evening air. In one swift motion he scooped me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. As his lips crashed into mine I bit the lower one just hard enough to draw blood before licking it away and kissing the hurt. His tongue then swooped into my mouth, battling for dominance against my own, a low growl escape his throat, reverberating through me.

Placing me on the balcony ledge, Eris situated himself between my spread legs, desperately palming at my breasts as I threw my head back, exposing the column of my throat to him. He lightly nipped down the length of my neck and my protruding collar bones before falling to his knees before me. His lust-filled eyes met mine as he cooed, “You could bring any male to their knees before your beauty, but this…” he pushed aside the lace thong, exposing me to him, “this gorgeous, dripping cunt belongs to your High Lord, and your High Lord only.”

His skilled tongue deftly swiped up my center, eliciting a moan from me. I looked down into his eyes - mesmerized by the amber hues peering at me from under his lashes. My fingers found purchase in his fiery red locks as I firmly stated, “I belong to no one and you are not my High Lord, Eris.”

His responding nip to my swollen clit drew a sharp gasp from me. Eris let out a satisfied hum in return as he resumed feasting like a starved male. Perhaps that’s what kept drawing me back into the bastards bed - his insatiable hunger fueled by that eagerness to please that only amplified with the calloused remarks I threw at him. Most females fell at his feet - throwing themselves at the chance to serve a High Lord. Whereas most males ran as far away as they could upon realizing that my father was the infamous Shadowsinger.

One of my shadows caressed the base of his neck, circling back around as to tilt his chin up. His needy eyes met mine again. “Fuck me, Eris.”

In an instant he was up, standing before me. Biting my lip, I clenched my thighs together at the sight of the incredibly evident arousal pressing against his trousers. He fumbled with the buckles on them, when suddenly a grating sound filled the air - the balcony doors flying open. “Sissy! Aunt Mor wants to see your neckl- oh wow, who is that!?”

Fuck me. This cannot be happening.

I jumped up, pulling my dress down before my little sister could see the exposed flesh.

I scrambled for words, voice cracking as I scolded, “She can wait, Azzy, just go back inside.”

It was too late though, as my father’s shadow that had been trailing her all evening had already reported back and before Eris or I could flee, my father, mother, Uncle Rhys, and Lucien winnowed onto the balcony.

————————————————-

Stay tuned for part three!

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

Text

chapter xvi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,000+

masterlist

Eris marched to Y/N. His eyes raced across her, noting all the injuries she suffered. Her heartbeat was weak, barely audible to his fae ears.

Azriel watched him with closely, prepared to guard and protect Y/N’s helpless body from Eris’ new and unpredictable power.

He remembered when Rhysand had gained his High Lord capacity. The new strength was both intoxicating and terrifying. It took Rhys time to get a hold on it, to control it.

Furthermore, Azriel didn’t trust Eris like he had trusted Rhysand.

“Give her to me,” Eris growled, only looking at Y/N’s face and not even bothering to acknowledge the shadowsinger.

“I am not so sure I should,” Azriel countered coolly, his hold over Y/N tightening.

Eris finally looked into his hazel eyes, glaring into them. “I would never hurt her, Shadowsinger. I swore allegiance to your High Lord to keep her safe. She needs a healer – and quick."

And without waiting for a response, Eris scooped Y/N into his arms, fully intending to fight Azriel if he tried to stop him.

Now that his mate was in his grasp, Eris whipped around to find his mother. But she was already standing a few feet behind him when he sought her out.

“Go," Leonora urged him. "Take her to the healer. Lucien and I will take care of things here.”

She looked around them at what was left of Beron’s loyalists. They were either dead or had surrendered. Nesta, Cassian, Jurian, and Vassa guarded them with weapons at the ready.

Eris nodded gratefully and rushed Y/N to the royal healer.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Even before Y/N fully came to, she knew that she wasn’t in Night Court.

For one, there was the smell: cedar wood, amber, rain, and very subtle hints of both pumpkin and apple. It surrounded her. Then there was the chill, it was different than the Night Court. Someone had clearly left a window or two open. And the cold was refreshing, like a relief after too long and too hot of a summer in the mortal lands. It felt like a chill that could cure the human body and soul.

Y/N’s eyes finally found the strength to flutter open.

She looked around to find she was indeed still in Autumn Court.

And she was laying in a canopy bed grander even than the one she had been given in the Night Court. The detailing on the woodwork was impossible to overlook.

It was lovely and cozy, not at all what she would’ve imagined the dreaded Forest House of Autumn Court would look like. She had expected everything to be red – red like blood – unsettling and harsh. But there was soft browns everywhere, and an overall rustic warmth to the place.

It wasn’t until Y/N looked on the other side of the room that she started to believe she wasn’t just sleeping in a random guest room of a grand estate.

There was a coffee table with a pile of books and an old cup of tea, half sipped. As well as some papers written on, with a discarded quill sitting on top of them all. The candle and roaring fire beyond made it even cozier.

Y/N glanced down to see that her injuries had been tended to and someone had changed her out of the soaking wet underdress that had exposed her to the entire Autumn Court. Beron had made sure to humiliate her, she was honestly surprised he hadn’t stripped her completely naked to make his point.

Now she wore a nightgown with decorative lace and silk in the Autumn Court's colors. It wasn’t very modest – but yet again Night Court seemed the least concerned with modesty compared to the other Prythian Courts – besides perhaps Summer.

Y/N slowly sat up in bed, making sure to be careful of an lingering injuries. But she felt refreshed and healthy.

Beron must be dead. Surely.

If she were alive and put in such a lovely bedroom, Eris must have won the battle.

Come to think of it, Y/N was struggling with remembering the details of the fight. There was pain and fire and blood. But she couldn’t seem to find the last thing that happened to her before she fell into a cloud of darkness.

Y/N found a thick shawl hanging over a chair next to the bed. Almost as if someone knew she would want to cover herself before going anywhere.

She wrapped it around herself and searched the room for something she could use as a weapon.

Right about now Y/N really missed the resourcefulness of having a sentient home like the House of Wind, who could just drop anything she politely asked for.

Y/N smiled with relief when she found a dagger similar to the one Eris had gifted her. It had been slightly hidden in a drawer of one of the nightstands.

She didn’t bother keeping it sheathed, letting the deadly blade gleam.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage before throwing the door open to see what would be waiting for her on the other side.

“Plan on stabbing me, do you?”

“Lucien?” Y/N gasped.

The redheaded male was sitting on the ground across from her bedroom, legs crossed, calmly reading a book. He hadn’t even looked up from it when she’d emerged.

“I was wondering when you would finally sneak out of that bedroom,” Lucien sighed as he finally looked up at her.

Y/N looked at him wearily.

The last few days had been harrowing and she wasn’t sure where she stood with others of these fae. They weren’t her friends any longer. But she wasn’t sure if they were quite her enemies either.

Lucien stood. “Everyone figured you would be the most comfortable with me being the one guarding your bedroom.”

“Everyone?” Y/N asked with a scowl.

He smiled. “Well…Eris.”

“So…So Beron is…d-dead?”

Lucien’s smile dropped as he heard the fear in her voice. He gave a slow nod. “I am sorry…for what he did to you, Y/N.”

But she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Lucien cleared his throat. “If you are feeling well enough, I thought perhaps I could show you around the Forest House.”

Y/N just gave me a short nod.

Lucien looked relieved at her agreement. “I have a thing for babysitting mortal females that unexpectedly show up in fae courts.”

She could only assume he was referring to Feyre when she was in the Spring Court. But she didn’t bother asking for him to clarify.

“I wish to keep the dagger,” she added darkly, daring him to challenge her on it.

But Lucien raised a brow. “I never said anything about taking it from you. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind watching you stab a few of the courtiers still alive.”

And then he started walking, not looking back or waiting to see if she would follow.

Y/N quickly caught up with him, the dagger tightly gripped in her right hand.

——

“Only a small portion of the house is above ground – less than half. The rest is built into the stone beneath. Most of the house is hidden amongst the trees and rocks that rest above ground. The property stretches far – even the most trained eye cannot tell where the Forest House begins or ends.”

Y/N had been quietly listening to Lucien’s little tour for nearly three hours now. Now and then she would ask questions. But mostly she just let him talk.

Once again, the Forest House was nothing like she would have imagined. With Beron ruling this kingdom, she half-expected the place to be a dark and grimy dungeon. That evil man didn’t deserve to live in such a beautiful place.

How much had he tainted the Autumn Court with his wickedness?

“But Eris and mother prefer to remain above ground,” Lucien added, catching at how Y/N's body stiffened every time he mentioned Eris. “They need the sunshine.”

Lucien led her out onto a balcony that was surrounded by such a thick woods that it felt more like a tree house.

For a few minutes, the two of them just stared out at the view.

There were trees and hills as far as the eye could see. It looked like someplace one could easily hide or sneak through undetected. Yet Y/N had failed to do just that.

“How did they ever find me in this?” Y/N whispered, really only to herself.

But of course Lucien heard it.

“You would have never been able to pass through, Y/N. There are wards surrounding this court. Beron knew of everyone that ever entered his territory.”

Y/N’s head still bowed in shame.

Then she looked up at Lucien. “Is it hard for you…being back here?”

Lucien took a moment to look out at the trees and mountains before he answered, “I never thought I’d walk through these halls ever again.”

“They must hold terrible memories for you,” Y/N mumbled.

“Yes. But believe it or not, they also hold some good memories. Memories that I haven’t allowed myself to think of in quite some time. I guess that is how I coped with it: either remember everything or remember none of it. at all”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look and a shy nod. Without realizing what she was doing, her hand reached across the railing and squeezed his own.

Lucien glanced down their hands with a small and shy smile.

“Come,” he said, nodding behind them at the house. “You must be starving. And I’m sure my brother has been pacing all day, waiting to see you for himself.”

“Why wasn’t he the one waiting outside my bedroom?”

Lucien froze and turned to look at her head-on. “Because Eris is convinced that you hate him – or you are scared of him. I can’t tell. But my brother figured he would be last person you would want to see when you awoke.”

“I do not fear him,” Y/N whispered quietly, yet with confidence.

“And you should not,” Lucien surprised her by responding. “I’ve never seen my brother care for someone’s safety the way he cares about yours. Not even my mother.”

With that, he began walking again, leading her through the giant sprawl.

It took almost twenty minutes just to get to the dining hall. Of course it was grand. Clearly, it was meant for hosting the entire court and visiting guests of the court.

And Y/N expected those guests to also be in attendance for this dinner. Or at least the surviving Vanserra family.

But it was only Eris at the other end of the giant hall, pacing with his back to them.

As soon as he heard their arrival though, his back went straight and he whipped around to the face them.

First, there was relief in his eyes at seeing Y/N safe and healed. But that was quickly hidden.

Y/N caught his usual cool and passive expression. But then she blinked and he tried to give her somewhat of a warm look. It seemed to take great effort from Eris to do so.

Lucien was the one to break the silence. “Have any other errands for me, brother?”

Eris glared at him. “I am just relieved you didn’t bore her to death.”

“I am more interesting company than you,” Lucien shot back. Then he turned to Y/N, “I shall leave you two to it then.”

“You’re leaving?” Y/N blurted out accidentally.

Lucien had an almost mischievous smirk as he nodded and took his leave.

Y/N expected that Eris would wait for her to approach him. After all, he was a High Lord now. And she was...Well, she was nothing.

But it was Eris who quickly lessened the distance between them. However, he stopped a longer distance away from her than necessary. Perhaps he really did believe she was scared of him.

Eris cleared his throat. “I assume eating here would be less comfortable. I requested a more…secluded place for us to dine.”

Y/N just watched him.

His tone was softer, gentler. Like he was speaking to a wild doe who would scurry away with any sudden movement.

Her silence seem to unsettle him, though.

“Unless, that is,” he quickly added, “you wish to dine alone in your rooms.”

His gaze shot down to the dagger that was still gripped in her hand.

He couldn't help but smirk. “I see you’ve grown fond of my dagger.”

His dagger? The rooms. The bedroom that seemed to belong to someone.

“They’re your rooms?” She asked without thinking.

Eris seemed caught off guard that she would figure it out. “Yes. I have wards surrounding them, stronger than anything else in the house. I conjured them myself. And there is nowhere safer in the Forest House.”

“B-But where are you sleeping? I do not wish to inconvenience you.”

Eris actually let out a laugh. “I assure you, it is not inconvenience. There is plenty of space in this dreadful place.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say next. But it still felt odd, her staying in his intimate quarters.

But then she couldn’t ignore how at home she felt waking up, how comfortable. She had just been attacked and practically tortured. Yet, she wouldn’t know it with how safe she had felt this morning.

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I would not mind having dinner with you…if I am able to ask you some questions.”

Eris bowed his head. “I believe that is a fair exchange.”

Then he gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

He led her through a few more hallways until they were outside on a terrace.

Plates and silverware were already set up, with candles lighting the small table.

Y/N turned to look at him, but Eris seemed to be trying to ignore her stare.

Clearly he had made a bit of an effort here. And Y/N was taken aback by it.

Who was Eris Vanserra now that Beron was dead and he was High Lord?

He gestured toward table, signaling that she should sit first.

Y/N reached for the one chair, and her face got hot when Eris moved behind to push in her chair for her. Then he moved into the corner across from her.

As soon as they were settled, Eris waved his hand over the table and food magically appeared before them. It took up every inch of the table. Then one set of wine glasses filled with light wine, while the other set filled with water.

“Neat trick,” Y/N pointed out quietly.

“Our cooks made it,” Eris explained, almost sounding bored. “I simply summon it.”

But Y/N wasn’t wasting any time. “When did you know?” She uttered suddenly.

Eris froze mid sip of drinking his wine.

“When did you figure out I was your…mate?”

Eris finished his sip, turning it into a gulp from the question. “As soon as I saw you.”

“But that is not normal, is it?” Y/N challenged.

“I will answer your questions if you eat,” Eris demanded as he gestured to her full plate. “You have been healing and sleeping. You have not eaten in nearly two days.”

Y/N sighed and did as he requested.

“I suppose it not normal,” Eris agreed to her earlier statement. “But stranger things have happened.”

“Why take me to Night Court? It was rather obvious they are not your friends. Why did you trust them, of all people?”

“I do not have friends,” he corrected her harshly. “I took you to the Night Court because it was the safest place for you. There was no other option. Perhaps I was…desperate.”

Y/N’s gaze grew cold and challenging. “And you promised an Autumn army you did yet have to make them agree?”

Eris ground his teeth. “Is that what they told you?”

“No one told me.”

The wind then, Eris surmised.

“Is that why you ran?” He asked quietly.

“I ran because they are not my friends. They only gave me shelter and protected me because they wanted your loyalty – even if that loyalty was forced. And, I guess, because Rhysand’s life depended on it.”

Eris shifted in his chair, having mental battle with himself in his head. “No, Rhysand and his inner circle are not my friends. But their love for you was no act. Even now, they have not left your side.”

Y/N’s head snapped up in surprise. “They’re still here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Irritating that lot is. They linger here to assure that you are alright. But I told them they were not allowed to speak with you until you had expressed that it was your wish to do so.”

Y/N blinked at Eris’ consideration.

He seemed to be reading her face quite carefully.

“For what it is worth,” Eris began, “they kept my secret by my demand. I did not want you to know about the bond because I thought it would make things left complicated and keep you safer.”

“If I am being fair,” Y/N began. “I am not sure how I would’ve reacted, knowing from the start. I wouldn’t have understood any of it, really. I would’ve been…Well, I don’t know what I would’ve been.”

Eris nodded, appreciating the honesty.

A moment of silence passed.

He leaned toward her. “Were you running here, to me when you fled…or were you simply trying to return to the Mortal Lands?”

Y/N caught the hope in his eyes. She knew immediately what answer he sought.

But she couldn’t give it to him. Not without lying.

Her head bowed. “I was going to the Mortal Lands. I didn’t even realize I had made it to Autumn until the leaves turned red. And then it was too late to turn around.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, controlling his expression. Yet, somehow Y/N still knew that he was disappointed.

Y/N waited a moment before she cleared her throat. “May I…May I make a request?”

“Please,” Eris urged her.

I will give you anything. Anything you wish, he had to stop himself from adding.

“I require a horse. Perhaps two.”

Eris watched her carefully, his face unreadable.

“I had properly paid for a pair in Night Court,” Y/N quickly added when he didn’t instantly respond. “I never stole them. But obviously I lost them when I was…when your father apprehended me.”

“Y/N…” It was the first time he had said her name since she'd crossed into these borders. And she didn’t know why it made her heart flutter. “It is not safe for you in the Mortal Lands. It is not safe for you to be on your own at all. There are some who do not approve of my usurping. And you were exposed. Those who wish to hurt me will come after you.”

Y/N’s breathing was getting heavy as she tried to control her temper. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

She shot up from her chair, the table shaking from the movements. “Where are they? Take me to them.”

Eris didn’t need her to clarify. He knew she spoke of the Night Court.

His eyes went dark when he slowly stood.

The movement must’ve been discomforting, for Y/N took a quick step backward from him and eyed him wearily.

“Fine,” Eris hissed before stomping away, not waiting for her to follow.

——

Some moments later, Eris had led her to a wing that Y/N was sure was on the opposite side of the Forest House than her own.

He gestured toward a door, apparently refusing to open it himself.

Y/N huffed and practically charged it.

Nesta and Cassian jumped to their feet. But Azriel looked unsurprised by Y/N’s aggressive entrance. He probably had shadows lingering in the hall that she had missed.

Cassian was the first to start opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him before he could. She knew he was about to apologize by his face alone – and she couldn’t deal with it at this moment.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N demanded of Cassian, before he could speak.

His mouth dropped helplessly, and then he looked at Eris over her shoulder, as if he would silently give him answers.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N repeated, even more angerily. “You at least owe me that after lying to me for months.”

Cassian looked to his mate for guidance, but her expression was passive.

“Y/N,” Eris spoke quietly, remaining behind her. “It is not safe.”

“He’s right,” Azriel agreed as he pushed off the wall. “All of Autumn Court knows you are Eris’ mate – thanks to Beron.”

Y/N only glared at the shadowsinger. But to Azriel it was better than her not acknowledging him at all.

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N nearly growled.

Cassian stepped forward. “If you wish to go back to Night Court, we shall take you there. Or...” His eyes flicked to Eris. “You can stay here." He sighed, "But you will be a walking target in the Mortal Lands, open for the taking.”

Y/N looked around at all of them as if they were insane.

Only Nesta seemed to be as confounded as her.

“So then…” Y/N whispered angrily. "I am being forced to pick between my prisons? Is that it?”

Eris stepped to her side. “You will never be a prisoner here, Y/N. You will be a guest.”

Y/N was quiet.

Nesta glared at the new High Lord. “And if he tries anything you do not consent to, I will cut off his prick myself and take you back to Night Court.”

Cassian failed to hide his smile.

Eris rolled his eyes.

But Y/N wasn’t amused.

Everyone watched her closely, waiting for her decision.

“I shall stay here,” she finally announced.

Without saying anything more, Y/N stormed out of the room.

Eris didn’t follow. Instead, he gave the three Night Courtiers a warning look. “My borders remain open to you. If you wish to visit Y/N – on her terms – you may do so whenever you see fit.”

Nesta gawked at him. Then glared at her mate and then Azriel. “We are just going to leave her here? Alone!? With him?!”

“She feels betrayed by all of you,” Eris countered gravely.

Nesta crossed her arms. “And whose fault is that?”

Eris took a moment to answer. “I did what I believed was best to protect her – and I will continue to do the same.”

Nesta slowly stepped toward the High Lord. “You know it wasn’t long ago that you were begging to marry me. I was unimpressed with you then, and I am even more unimpressed with you when it comes to my friend.”

Eris didn’t back down though, not even to Lady Death. “And now you have your precious Illyrian.” Only he could whisper a mere fact and make it sound like an insult.

Cassian shifted his weight nervously, fully preparing to have to step between his mate and her next prey.

But Eris calmly looked at him and Azriel. “Y/N will be safe here.”

Then Eris looked down at Nesta, knowing she needed to hear the next part more than anyone. “And though she is my mate, I make no assumptions that she will accept such a bond. Once Autumn Court has been calmed and she is no longer at risk, she can return to the Mortal Lands.”

“You think it will be that easy to let her?” Azriel challenged.

Eris sneered at the shadowsinger. “You let her go, so why don’t you tell me?”

It was now Nesta who was forced to hide her smile.

Eris straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Stay another night or leave. I do not care.”

Then he left to go hunt down his mate, who was surely lost in the Forest House.

––––––

please please please let me know what you think. write me a book report. it's what keeps me going. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Chapter XVII

#acotar #gust & flame #eris #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court #lady of autumn #azriel #cassian #forest house #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #high lord of autumn court

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lovemyromance · 2 months

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guys do you want to hear a secret??

Not all redheads are related 😱😱

Shhhhh 🤫🤫 this his highly confidential information that those people saying Gwyn is Lucien's/Eris's daughter clearly haven't heard.

Also related to that

Not all redheads come from the Autumn court 😱😱😱

Please stop trying to make Gwyn relevant to the overarching plot of ACOTAR by saying outrageous things:

She is not going to suddenly be descended from the Autmnn Court.

She's not going to free Autumn court from Beron.

She's not going to "save" Illyria.

She is not going to wield Gwydion and charge into battle with Azriel (idk where this even came from - ig bc people saw Gwy-n and Gwy-dion and said close enough? 😭 really guys?)

She is not going to tag along as Azriel's girlfriend as Azriel and Nesta somehow with their powers of shadows & death, bring Dusk court back to life.

Stop it. Read the books. Girl won the Bloodrite and went back into the library, wasn't even sure she would be comfortable attending her best friend's mating ceremony. That's how ACOSF ended for her. I'm not trying to belittle her accomplishments, but saying she is going to have an ENTIRE BOOK dedicated to her and coming up with all sorts of insane plots in that desperate attempt is just like ... sad? You are completely overwriting her character to fit YOUR narrative....

To make her relevant enough to be the love interest for SJM's new favorite batboy, apparently. Because even YOU know Gwyn, as she is, is not important enough to be tied to the overall plot of ACOTAR going forward.

This is - again - not trying to diss Gwyn or anything. She is an amazing character, as she is. She is kind and brave and competitive. She doesn't need to change for me to like her. But this fandom has turned her into something she is not.

She is not a sculpture for you to shape as you desire to fit Azriel's plotline. Not when there is literally nothing to hint how SHE feels about that man. Like a bad version of Pygmalion ffs.

#elriel #azriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elain #acotar #elain #anti gwynriel #pro gwyn

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wingsdippedingold · 17 days

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I saw someone making a tik tok of Feyre talking to Nesta to an audio of Lexi and Meredith from Grey’s anatomy, and omg some of these Feyre fans have selective reading 😭😭

"I forgive you for treating me like crap” That’s fair, she was mean to you, and you don’t owe her forgiveness for that.

“I forgive you for letting me go into the woods” Nesta didn’t let Feyre go into the woods and I’m sick of people pretending like she did. Feyre did it on her own, which because she was a child was not her responsibility. You know who else was a child? Nesta. And I’m willing to bet that if Feyre didn’t, Nesta would find a way to put food on the table, because she was the one chopping wood, and I’m pretty sure Elain and Papa Archeron weren’t the ones taking care of the house.

“I don’t know how you get up in the morning, I honestly don’t” you know what? Neither do I. Nesta has been through so much, all of you have and y’all continue to treat her like she hasn’t done anything for y’all. She’s stronger than I am.

“Our dad abandoned you and our mom by all accounts was the meanest person ever, and you can’t love Cassian and it really really sucks” yeah it does suck. It really does, because Cassian forced her into a hike with no regard for her safety, forced her into intensive training, isolated her, locked her in a house, and was an overall shitty person to her. Forgive Nesta if she has a hard time liking him.

“But ever since I knew you existed, I had this fantasy about my older sister, and you failed on every occasion to live up to that fantasy” Oh my fucking god Feyre, did she fail when she trekked up a mountain to find you? Did she fail when she saved your life because your mate couldn’t be bothered to think about potential dangers of having a child beforehand? Did she fail when she sacrificed her own happiness and body to seduce men three times her her age so that you and your family could be better off? Maybe she was mean to you, but that is some real shit.

Obviously it’s not that serious and the poster needed it to match the audio, but it makes me so annoyed when people throw Nesta off a cliff

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti sarah j maas #anti rhysand #sjm critical #anti inner circle #pro nesta #anti feyre #feyre critical #nesta archeron deserves better #nesta archeron #anti cassian #anti nessian

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works-of-heart · 2 months

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I don't get it.

Like seriously, I honestly don't understand it.

Sjm says that Elain was someone who she and Lucien didn't see coming. She had always envisioned him with Nesta, but realized they'd tear each other apart (not in a good way, as she loves that kind of banter, but theirs would be awful). She mentions 'without getting too spoilery' that and I quote:

"there was actually a great deal of tension, growth, and healing to be found for both of them (together)"

You mean to tell me, that she says there is a great deal of tension (which we've all been seeing between them), growth and healing for them TOGETHER ONLY to have Elain break her bond with him and leave him to suffer a broken bond?

You want to tell me that SJM planned to have Elain become Lucien's mate, so they could grow and heal together, only for her to dump him and choose Azriel, and leave Lucien alone with a broken bond?

This woman, who has written Lucien as kind, patient, understanding, and truly concerned for Elain, is planning on making his mate turn away from him? This man who is said to be fiercely loyal, who could have ANY woman in Prythian he wanted but has no interest in any females, who has suffered physical and emotional trauma to help his friends. You think Sarah is just going to be like "Yeah, I'm going to put Lucien with a girl who is all around perfect for him and just take her away so she can run into the arms of another man!"

Look, I torture my precious babies too, but that?! That's INSANE to me that anyone thinks Sarah planned to set him up with a mate and said all those things if she planned for it to be a failure.

Especially since she made a comment, unprompted mind you, about an Elucien date where they go visit the gardens in London, before heading out to the countryside, stating that they're BOTH happy in nature. So she's going to talk about Feysand, Nessien modern dating, and just throw in Elucien even though she doesn't even plan for them to be together?

it simply doesn't make any sense to me.

Like take a moment, to actually sit down and think, why would this author say those kinds of things if she as some had said "planned Elriel since MAF" when she literally states the opposite. She confirmed Nessien in that same moment as well, because the series was originally supposed to finish. Az and Elain didn't have anything together, they were never planned. She didn't change from that trajectory either (as stated in her interview that I guess people want to misquote, forget, or take her words completely out of context).

SJM did say there were SMALL changes, like some characters had been added (which I suspect are Gwyn and Em), Mor's sexual orientation, but the overall arch was still the same.

Honestly, here's what I think about that.

Azriel was always meant to have a mate. A lot of people pointed out that in MAF there was a lot of Moriel hints and they were meant to be endgame. When she got backlash for lack of LGBT representation, she just decided to have Mor's preference shift. I think it left Az without a mate, but by the time SF came around she began to leave breadcrumbs for who he'd end up with. That being Gwyn.

I personally think SJM wants Gwynriel so much so, that she retconned Az's backstory so he was the one at Sangravah. That he killed everyone in site, leaving none left alive (completely OOC for Az, yet fitting with mate behavior). Like if she had no intention for Az to be connected to her in such a way, why actively make HIM the one to save her? Why make it so that Az killed everyone and left not a single person alive?

Why did she have his shadows react to her in a very specific way, a way that's calm and happy? The way they sing and dance to her, reaching out to her in a playful way. Why would she change history and put attention on these things, if there was never any future for them? What, so we can see Az fall for Elain? You mean Sarah went out of her way to change parts of Az's story and how his shadows react specifically to Gwyn, just so he can turn from her and rush into the arms of Elain? Why bother?

And before anyone says "lightsinger" and Gwyn's 'evil powers' are causing Az's shadows to dance and sing... there's a whole bonus chapter where Az's shadows dance to Azriel's singing. Gwyn isn't even there, so that's debunked.

That's all, I just had to get that off my chest. I keep seeing so many people rant and say that SJM's old editor pushed for Elucien and her new one is pushing Elriel because it's more 'popular' and she's going in this new direction now. I have no idea where that came from when she said that nothing's changed from her drunken rant, so we'll see I guess.

#elucien #elucien supremacy #pro lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elain x lucien #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel

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kayjayjwrites · 1 month

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Chapter Word Count: 7,500

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power.

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable.

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain.

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, “and you will.”

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth?

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries.

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand.

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them.

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there.

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you.

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder.

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore?

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure.

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can’t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax.

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real.

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand.

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time.

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #Like Bugs in a Rug #my writing #kayjaywrites #nesta archeron #the morrigan #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #cassian

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bookstantrash · 19 days

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A/N: And I am back in my "Nessian with RED (TV) fic titles" agenda. They are just so RED coded and I had been dying to write something related to this album it is one of my fav albums of TS tbf.

This one shot is more Cassian centric, and it is also a type of fanfic I had been meaning to write for the longest times. I just feel like the fandom overall forgets that Cassian has a lot of trauma and insecurities, and I wish we saw more of that.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

Nightmares were not unusual to Cassian. He had them for as long as he could remember.

He had them when he was a mere child living on the outskirts of Windhaven, blowing on his hands to try and keep himself warm.

Had them when he was a young warrior, taking part in the Blood Rite, fighting his way to find his brothers alive.

Had them when he took part in the First War and saw deaths far more gruesome than what he had experienced at the Blood Rite.

Had them pile up after each war, each battle he took part in. Dreamt about his soldiers dying, about having to give their families the news and be met with sadness, anger and resentment. That they were gone and would never return. That while they had died he, a mere bastard born nobody, an orphan, had not.

He grew used to nightmares. Usually he would wake up with silent tears and a sense of regret and failure over his heart, spending the rest of the night awake, going over reports. Those were the good nights.

And on those rare times when his mind was particularly evil and wanted to punish him deeply, on those nights he would wake up with his heart racing, the urge to throw up taking him out of his bed to leave him retching over the toilet, the need to scream at anyone and everyone consuming him. To scream in anger and despair. Those were the bad nights, the ones who made him go to the training ring and rip the punching bags, made him stay there until the sun was rising and he would pass out with tiredness, no dreams, good or bad appearing for him.

He was so used to his nightmares that he knew what to expect, knew how to recognise when it would be a bad or good night.

And then he met Nesta and his nightmares changed.

Now he dreamt of his failures with her. Not being able to stop her from being thrown into the Cauldron, not protecting her from Hybern during the War, not helping her heal sooner after the war, letting her be kidnapped again and thrown in the Blood Rite.

Nothing could have prepared him for those nightmares, nightmares that got worse after they finally got together.

Because finally being able to be with the love of his life, his Nesta, his wife and mate… that made him incredibly afraid. Afraid that the happiness he had never felt before would be stolen from him, leaving him empty, a sad and lonely youngling in the bitter snow all over again.

The first time Cassian had a nightmare after he and Nesta had wed, he had woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating so loudly on his ears that for a second he thought he was hearing the Illyrian war drums. He had dreamt of the night she had been Made, of dragging himself over the cold floor of Hybern’s throne room, the pain of his shredded and bloody wings almost non-existent at the face of Nesta’s despair. At her screams of rage as she was dragged under the cold dark waters of the Cauldron.

He had only calmed down when he realised Nesta was safely sleeping beside him, arms around him tightening and her sleepily mumbling at him.

“Where are you going?”

Cassian had considered untangling himself from his wife’s warm embrace and going over some leftover documents, silently keeping watch over her. But one look at her sleeping face had his resolve weakening.

“Nowhere, Nes” he had settled beside her, dropping a kiss on her forehead “Go back to sleep”

Whenever Cassian had a nightmare, he would try his best to not wake up Nesta. He did not want to bother her with his worries and fears. And somehow the Mother must have taken pity on him, because he was scarcely having any bad nights since they'd gotten married. Sure, he still had nightmares, but those made him want to rip his own heart out had stopped.

He took that as a small blessing. He would take the good nights over no dreams if that meant that the unbearable nightmares would be kept at bay.

However, Nesta was not oblivious that something preyed on her husband’s mind. She had noticed how worn out he was, how when he smiled at her and said nothing was wrong his smile did not reach his eyes.

But Nesta wanted Cassian himself to tell her what was happening. Wanted him to open his heart about what was making the circles beneath his eyes darker with each passing day without her having to dig it out of him. He had told her months ago during that hike at Illyria that she could be silent and he would be waiting for her to open up when she felt comfortable, as long as she did not shut him out. Now Nesta would do the same. She would wait beside him, offering her support however she could until he was ready to talk.

“You are unusually quiet today,” Nesta noted. They were resting on the sofa in front of the fireplace — Nesta reading a book and Cassian lying down, his head on her lap — having a quiet late evening after the training session with the Valkyries in the morning.

“Missing the sound of my lovely voice, Nes? Should I read out loud a paragraph from your book?” Cassian teased, opening an eye. He had slept poorly the night before, and the quiet sound of the embers crackling on the fireplace and his mate absentmindedly running her free hand through his hair had him battling sleep.

“No,” she closed her book, “it was merely an observation.”

Cassian closed his eyes again, smiling softly.

“Are you sure? I am certain the House would love to hear all about your newest smutty book”

The faelights flicked twice, as if agreeing with him.

“Oh hush now, you can read it after I am done with it. ” Nesta said, glaring at the ceiling “I never knew a sentient being more impatient”

Cassian laughed. At first he had been surprised when Nesta talked to the House, but he had grown used to it, even talking to It on more than one occasion.

“Do you want to move to our room?” Nesta asked, gently running her hands through his hair “it is more comfortable than the couch”

Cassian merely sighed “No, I am very comfortable like this” he turned on his side, arms circling her waist and wings dropping a little on the floor “I am afraid I will keep you hostage while I nap.”

Whatever Nesta meant to say was lost when she noticed how his breath had eased, her mate having already fallen asleep. And before she could even ask, the House flicked off the faelights, drawing shut the curtains of the room they had turned into their living room.

“Thank you,” Nesta found it quite endearing how the House had grown to care about Cassian as much as It cared about her. In the beginning, It liked to play pranks on him and even sided with Nesta whenever she and Cassian had an argument — once It locked Cassian outside and only let him in when he apologised. Over time, however, they had formed a rather close friendship.

Nesta opened her book again, turning on the small faelight that Azriel had gifted her on Solstice. She had just gotten to the juicy part and she knew that little light would not wake Cassian any time soon if the way he was softly breathing was any indication of how deeply he was sleeping.

She had read half of the book when she felt an uneasy feeling through the bond. She looked down at Cassian and saw his breathing getting uneven, his arms tightening around her waist.

“Cass?” Nesta whispered softly, setting her book aside. She could feel his fear and anguish through the bond, and it pained her that she could do nothing to ease his pain.

Cassian whimpered, and although Nesta knew better than to wake up someone having a nightmare, she could not stand to see him in such pain.

“Cassian, wake up, please” she tugged on her end of the bond, her hands cupping his face. He woke up gasping, hazel eyes huge and scared.

“A bucket,” he managed to say as he scrambled up, his breathing erratic “I need—”

No sooner had the House made a bucket appear than Cassian was on his knees, emptying his stomach. Nesta kneeled beside him, holding his hair back and rubbing his back.

“It is okay, everything is fine now” she said softly.

The House made a glass of water and a towel appear, Nesta thanking It quietly. Cassian had closed his eyes, breathing as if he had just learned how to.

“Hey,” she grabbed his face “open your eyes Cass.”

His hands came up, grabbing her wrists like he was wandering at the sea and she was his lifeline.

“That is it, just look at me” she said softly yet firmly, his scared hazel eyes meeting her blue-grey ones “Breath, Cassian.”

Nesta took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go slowly. Cassian copied her, and after a few minutes his breathing had become normal again, his racing heart also slowing down.

“I am sorry,” that was the first thing he said, voice hoarse “I did not want you to see me like this”

“Nonsense,” Nesta dismissed, giving him the glass of water and making him drink it “you have seen me in much worse conditions”

“Are you ready to tell me what is going on?” she asked.

Cassian nodded his head, biding his time by taking another sip of water and using the towel to clean his mouth.

“For as long as I could remember I’ve had nightmares,” he began “There are the good nightmares and bad nightmares. The good ones usually wake me and leave me with a feeling of failure.”

Nesta remembered the nights in which she would wake up to an empty bed, Cassian going over reports — she would sit on his lap and give remarks as he went over them — or just standing on their balcony. On those nights she would go over to him and bring him back to bed.

“I am cold” she would say, and he would hug her tightly and Nesta would let him think that she did not notice how he needed the hug more than she did.

She could always feel his sadness through the bond, no matter how hard he tried to close his end of that golden thread that binds them together so intrinsically.

“And the bad ones?” Nesta quietly asked.

“The bad ones leave me like this,” he said with a self deprecating laugh “A complete and utter mess, barely functioning.”

“You have been sleeping poorly for a while now. Why didn’t you talk to me?” Cassian must have seen the hurt on her eyes, felt it through the bond, because he grabbed her hands, squeezing them.

“I am not good with words, I am sure you have noticed that,” he smiled weakly “I wish I was half as eloquent as you are.”

“You managed just fine in our wedding” she said with an arched eyebrow, and that got a real laugh out of him.

“I was inspired that day, I will admit.” he got serious again “But I think that maybe spending a lot of time being alone and angry did not help with my inability to find the right words to express what I am feeling. And to share my problems with others.”

Nesta had noticed this particular trait of Cassian, especially after she had stopped keeping him at arms lengths and had finally allowed herself to admit what she felt for him. He loved his family deeply, would put himself at risk for others in a heartbeat, would always have a happy face and joke to lighten the mood.

He cared for and about everyone, but what about him? Who did the same to him?

Nesta wanted to be the one with whom he could discard his happy mask and show a range of emotions.

“You can always talk to me Cassian,” she said “Anytime, no matter what.”

“I don't want to burden you. You already went through so much that to further worry you with something as silly as a nightmare—”

“I cannot believe you are saying this,” Nesta said, and Cassian could feel her anger and disappointment through the bond “You could never burden me and for you to even suggest otherwise—”

“I am your wife, Cassian. Your mate. If I don’t care and worry about you, who will?” she continued after taking a deep breath to calm herself “Besides, it is not a silly nightmare if it affected you this way”

Cassian stayed a few minutes quiet, mindlessly playing with her wedding band, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Another reason I was hesitant to talk to you about the nightmares is because— because now I have nightmares about you, Nes” he avoided her eyes while he talked, still focused on her hands “The good nightmares are the ones about my failures with you. Not stopping Hybern, not helping you sooner…”

Nesta’s heart almost broke when he said that. How could he think that about himself when he had been the one to tell her months ago when they visited the old shabby cottage she had lived with her family in poverty that there was nothing she could have done to stop Hybern and save her father?

“And the bad?” she asked, wishing he would look at her.

“The bad ones are about you dying in my arms. About you realising I am nothing more than a bastard born nobody, who is not deserving of even the air you breathe and then leaving to go travel the world, to marry a king from the continent or from other fae lands.” his voice got quieter, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of telling her what he saw on those nights “Of you simply leaving me and never looking back.”

“Tonight— tonight was a bad one,” he finally looked at her and his face was so utterly wrecked with pain and desperation that Nesta wanted to tell him that she would stop his nightmares, that she would bargain with the Mother and even that blasted Cauldron to leave him alone.

“I dreamt that when Briallyn ordered me to kill I could not turn the knife on myself. So I killed you. And she got the Mask and kept reviving you so I had to kill you over and over and over again” silent tears started running down his face and her heart truly shattered.

She hugged him tight, Cassian burying his head on her shoulder.

“Shh xe nhia, I am here,” Nesta knew a few words in Illyrian, and she hoped that the use of them, the familiarity that they brought, would help Cassian “I am not leaving you. Not now and not ever”

“However, if you keep trying to spoil my books I might become Ems’ newest house mate” she joked, making Cassian laugh.

“I would be completely lost without you Nes,” he said with a weak smile.

“I know,” she tenderly brushed his cheeks, drying his tears “Promise me something?”

“Anything you desire”

“Promise me you will wake me up when you have another nightmare, be it ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Promise me you will talk to me and let me be beside you when you are in need.” she pleaded.

“I promise” Cassian kissed her cheek, gathering her in his arms and walking towards their bedroom. Reluctantly setting her down, he went to their bathroom to freshen up while Nesta changed out of her dress.

Cassian walked back in to find her wearing one his favourite sweaters.

“I had been looking for that sweater”

“You were? Funny how it ended up in my drawer. Maybe the House put it there by mistake” Nesta shrugged, knowing very well that she had been the one to steal it. She was constantly stealing Cassian’s clothes.

“You do look better on it than me, so I think I can forgive that small mishap” he said, getting under the covers and hugging Nesta close.

“I love you, Nes” he whispered in her ear “And thank you”

“I love you too, Cass,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

And that night, for the first time in a long while, Cassian had no nightmares.

•

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