#peregryns

[acourtoftoomanythoughts]

All of Me (Prologe) Eris Vanserra x OC! series)

Eris Vanserra x OC

Summary: The princess of Dawn, sister of High Lord Thesan finds herself Under the Mountain after rebelling against Amarantha, and catches the eye of Autumn heir Eris Vanserra. The chapters will show snipbits of how their relationship progresses from Under the Mountain, the war against Hybern, and eventually to Eris being crowned High Lord. Is the cruel heir to the Autumn court capable of making a friend, let alone loving someone? Find out, as the kind, soft, and silly adorned Princess of Dawn, Brie, enchants the red-head.

Warnings: Amarantha's abuse, semi-graphic descriptions of feather plucking, blood, Vanserra family line and all their cruel activities

Word Count: 2,937

Note: Hey y'all, this is my first story I'm posting. I've never done something like this but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head, so enjoy! Also, I'm hoping to write requests and headcanons for ACOTAR, so drop some suggestions. Thank you for reading, constructive criticism is welcome.

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It was just another normal day for Eris - moving around his father's toddler-like temper, keeping his brothers in check, and caring for his mother in the most distant way possible.

The heir to the thrown was moved Under the Mountain along with the rest of his royal bloodline after his father struck a deal with the red-headed wannabe Queen. For fear of his power and court being taken from him, the High Lord of Autumn agreed to support Amarantha and her reign, although reluctantly.

As was said before, it was another normal day in the surrounding darkness of being under the mountain, laying around decay much uglier than the permanent decay of Autumn. There were no jeweled forests full of reds, browns, yellows and oranges. Although the darkness of the stone resembled home in the Forest House, it's red marble floor could not match the rubies within the Forest House's walls. Even the chandeliers of jewels above the crowds or the intricate markings of the history of Prythian on the pale rock walls, could not compete with the beauty of Autumn . Instead there were cronies lurking around in the weak light, with one wrong move making you the Queen's dinner.

As of now she was sitting of her black throne with a gown made of Peregryn feathers, each plucked out from the creature's wings multiple weeks beforehand - a newfound enjoyment of Amarantha's. Their screams echoed through the halls, with pleas for sparred pride - so much so that almost all of the Peregryn's whose feathers were plucked and wings bore bare, committed suicide thereafter.

Amarantha's current appetite was satisfied, but soon enough her hunger would fester and begin again, and the same events that played the night before would repeat themselves. Eris would put himself in front of his mother to save her from the wrath of the Queen, snicker at the torments to please his father, and go back to his bedchamber for another restless sleep.

The crowd was bustling with life, with some faking their enjoyment and others lost in the faerie wine and pleasure. The elegant light of the throne room contrasted heavily from the dark corridors of the rest of the mountain. String music and piano drafted through the walls, enticing others to dance.

Most people were dressed in dark and rich colors, contrasting the Queen's stark white gown. Standing beside her throne, the High Lord of the Night Court observed, a lazy grin plastered across his features. He was decorated in tight black pants that matched his lose midnight tunic that exposed the swirls of tattoos across his chest.

Eris only huffed. Only in this world would Rhysand find his way out of this catastrophe. His court was brutish, full of nothing but lesser fae built only for war and rumors of constant torture escaping his land. There was no happiness in the court of darkness.

Eris observed the mingling crowd, paying special attention to his mother from the corner of his perspective. His mother, with her long auburn hair and russet brown eyes, looked into the crowd with a black stare atop his father's lap. The sight between them has become more common during these times, a tactic, Eris suspected, was another way to assert control over her.

Her emerald dress flowed from her, contrasting the perfectly tailored brown suit his father wore. Beron spoke boastfully towards his kin, sneering and laughing at the enjoyment of the night. Eris always festered a hate for the male in front of him - the short brown hair, beard, how his too-perfect appearance was another way to establish dominance to others surrounding him.

Eris faked a laugh at one of his father's jokes, something about females being inferior, and then swirled his fae wine. He took only a sip, never drinking too much, always on edge just in case. Between the threat of his father's temper or his younger brothers willingness to eradicate him from the throne, Eris never allowed himself too much pleasure. Whether it be sleeping too deep, drinking too much or enjoying anything - a female, a possession, a dream - Eris knew discipline was the only way to survive in the hellish world he was born into.

The party continued, the evening turning later, with two of his brothers disappearing towards the crowd, set on some High Fae females from the Winter Court, hoping for some company for the night. His father had left to talk with some associates from Autumn, loudly speaking about how great a High Lord he was for 'saving' his court from turmoil. His mother sat starring off in space, hand placed perfectly in her lap. Eris could have sworn every once in a while her gaze traveled to the newly appointed High Lord of Day, the details of why, Eris knew well.

Eris continued to sip from his wine, observing his brothers failing to gain attention of those Winter Court females, keeping his eye of his mother, and engaging in brisk talk with his younger brother, who of which was an impeccable duplicate of Beron. Not only in looks, but in personality and cruelty - the original fifth to the throne, now third in line, could be argued to have more of a brutal reputation than Eris'.

Then it happened...

A yelling - no, screaming erupted in the halls, slowing the voices to silence in the main room. All heads snapped towards the corridors leading towards different, unfathomable routes. The crowd began to part, making a path from the corridor straight to the red-headed bitch. There, her pointy ears perked upwards at the distressed sounds, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes towards the stone entrance. Before Eris set his eyes on the attraction, he noted a glint of amusement in Amarantha's gaze.

All eyes set upon an ugly Attor, drug a girl up towards the Queen, clawed hand digging into the hair of the girl. The girl could be no younger than 100 but no older than 200 years-old, with tan skin that glowed more than that of the High Lord of Day. Her brown hair was flecked with highlights of gold and reached to her mid-back, and bangs covered her forehead. Freckles, a rarity amoung fae, spread across her cheeks.

She bore a satin purple floor length dress, with a slit up the left leg and immaculate laced sleeves covering her arms. The leg that showed from her slit, showed thicker thighs than most fae females, less slender and more built out, with muscle hidden underneath her skin. She held a fuller face and body but was attractive in her own right - she had an allure to her, not in the seductive beauty that would be assumed, but in the soft and kind beauty her being projected. Her clothing choice, and the amount of intricate gold trinkets and jewellery decorating her gown and body identified her as hailing from the Dawn Court.

Eris swore he heard another shout, more masculine, coming from the crowd, as the girl came closer towards the black throne. Her screaming, was a mix of cuss words and a foreign language, and though it was indeed screaming, her voice did not go too loud. As she was drug across the red marble floor, she locked eyes with the High Lord of Dawn, Thesan, and a look of terror crossed both of their faces - they must be lovers or related if they cared about each that much, Eris thought to himself.

Thesan had the audacity to follow the Attor and the girl, on their heals the breath was stole from his body. He had brown hair curling over his head, brown skin glowing, though more pale than usual, and a slender build, dressed in tan flowing pants and a covered lose shirt. As they were seen closer together, it was easy to see the relation between them. Though the girl wasn't as slender as him, and seemed shorter than most fae females, she had the same nose and glow that Thesan radiated. Their cheekbones held the same structure and both had similar quiet attitudes surrounding them.

The High Lord of Dawn stopped as the Attor threw the girl in front of Amarantha, arms useless at his sides. A soft groan erupted from the girl while Amarantha smiled cruelly.

“What have we here… Dawn royalty?” She questioned.

Amarantha lounged on her throne, one leg crossed over the other, a hand under her chin in amusement. The girl had lifted her face, a streak of blood on her cheek and a bruise quickly forming on her face. The girl set her features into a school of coolness, her lips pressed and blue eyes set on the Queen, as if the girl thought she was equal of better than the Queen in front of her.

As their eyes interlocked and Amarantha raised a brow in challenge, the girl stood on shaky legs, standing to her full height and lifting her chin in acknowledgement, as if to say 'bring on your worst'. The Queen noticed the slight challenge, while Thesan, wild eyed, loosed a breath.

"Is it, that we have here," the Queen gestured to the crown with a wicked laugh, "The princess of Dawn, younger sister of the High Lord?"

Another gleam of statistic pleasure glossed through her eyes as she looked down at the princess, who though stood straight with posture perfected over time, set in her stubbornness, the girl was still just a girl, weak compared to the Queen. She appeared short and non-threatening, except for a glowing fire in her dark blue eyes, like she's held such battles before.

Eris admired the stubborned face she kept, and spared a glance at his father's curl of a smile, ready to see another cruel torture.

It wasn't main knowledge that the previous High Lord had sired two children, the now High Lord Thesan, and a daughter, of which little was known about. She was a marvel to the Court's royalty, and only made appearances in the Solar Courts balls. But even then, she was thought to be the perfect, silent virgin girl who still lived in a fantasy, adored by those who knew her in Dawn. In fact, Beron had tried to set up one of his sons with the princess, to gain a better alliance, only to be denied by her father with vicious intent.

“So,” the Queen stated, bored. “Have you a name? Or shall I take it out of you?”

The girl wasted no time. "Brie," she answered in a soft but stern tone, chin lifting higher and eyes narrowing. Her soft features were schooled into an unnatural stone wall, making her look older.

“Brie,” Amarantha tasted the name on her tongue. “And tell me, how did she get here?” She asked the Attor. 

He looked up at her, black smokey face turned into a wicked smile, sharp teeth pointing. His voice echoed like death, "We have finally caught her - found her secure hiding sport, in a small town called Aruna. She'd been leading the rebellion against us," he tsked.

"Don't worry, my Queen, the rebels were taken care of - in front of their majesty. They have been exterminated."

A look of sadness crossed her eyes, and regret. "She was also looking into ways to dethrone you, my Queen," the Attor was almost laughing at this, excited for the outcome.

A shadow glazed Amarantha's face, a threat to her power was the last thing she wanted.

"I supposed," she began. "Some more punishment shall be bestowed upon the Dawn Court. They did so wonderful," she said in a mock frown and baby voice, pouting her lower lip. "I know it was about time until someone tried again, but atlas, I am too powerful! I captured all the High Lords, what made you think you could take me down?"

A cackle rang out throughout the room, echoing into the stone routes etched into the walls. Thesan still stood behind the Attor, though he looked, truly, as if death had fallen upon him with what the Queen said next.

The Queen stood, long red hair coming in waves over her shoulders, the white feathers of her dress flaring out at the bottom and showing her cleavage at the top. She walked towards Brie, slowly but calculated. She caught Brie's chin in between her thumb and fingers, pulling her face towards hers.

"Perhaps you need a reminder of how kind I am," she suggested. "I could kill you, brutally, or I could kill your brother - who knows what other more suitable male would fill his position." A gleam of worry shown in Brie's eyes at the threat of her brother's life, with a twitch of her nose at Amarantha's jab towards her brother's sexuality - who was rumored to enjoy both females and males. Not a crime, or an oddity in this world, but certainly a scandal in the traditional court of Autumn.

"But I'll settle on this, so next time you, or your people, think of rebelling, you'll remember at what cost it comes with." Amarantha hummed before beginning her assault.

The Attor finally let go of Brie, as did Amarantha, landing her on her knees, a gasp leaving her throat. Amarantha worked herself, beating the girl with her magic and a metal bar that a cronie had given her in the middle of the process. The beating was lighter than the majority that had been seen, bit it wasn't until after Amarantha's abuse did people understand the full length of the punishment.

Brie sported a left elbow that fell at her side, loose and broken - more shattered, in every way - with bruises over her face, arms and legs. The elegant Dawn gown she wore was ripped in many places, now exposing her stomach, a bit of her undergarments (a black lace that left Eris' brothers snickering), and slashes across her collarbone. Blood stained the material darker than it already was.

The wounds did not heal, meaning she was under the influence of faebane beforehand. Brie gasped in pain, face distorted, and clung to her left arm with her right, and stayed kneeled over on the ground, barely gaining composure. She took the pain, with some screams flying out of her mouth, and now a few tears had escaped her eyes.

Thesan had stepped back towards the crowd by this time, an order from the Queen herself, and the previous glow he seemed to radiate was vanished by now. His face was also twisted in pain, his eyes showing a sadness. The Queen, covered in blood, smiled above the girl, throwing the metal bar across the room, hitting an innocent bystander.

"Rhys," She began. "Take her back to our room."

At that statement, the whole crowd knew the expense of her punishment. Brie's head lifted with a sort of panic in her eyes. Rhysand seemed to hesitate, almost, as if him and Brie had once had a connection, before grabbing her by the left arm, admitting a shriek from Brie. Thesan behold the sight, and in a matter of seconds Rhysand drug Brie down the path as tears escaped Thesan's eyes as well.

"Let this be a reminder," spoke Amarantha. "Of my kindness." A pointed look, and then she turned towards the throne, "Music!" she yelled, and everyone went back tot he ball as if nothing had happened.

The blood was still on the floor, but people walked over it in their returned mingling. Beron laughed and the sons of Autumn continued towards the females they set their eyes on prior. Eris' brother next to him, Rory, snickered, "Typical idiotic female. At least Rhysand will get a break from the bitch."

Eris played along, nodding his head, before swirling his wine again, gaze lingering towards Thesan, who turned towards a group of Dawn individuals. All the courts members looked distraught over the princess, and by the end of the night, Thesan and the other escorts, would return to their chambers early.

That night, as Eris escorted his mother to her and his father's bedchamber, his couldn't shake the girl, Brie, from his mind. As he laid in bed, looking up at the grey stone of his bedchamber, one more luxurious than others due to the Autumn's commitment to Amarantha, he remembered the events of her encounter. Her silent stubbornness, how her pain, despite controlled, erupted more pain in the Dawn's residents. Perhaps, having a sibling who was hurt from them being in pain was what having a sibling was supposed to be like. Instead of a relief, like it would have been between Eris and his brothers, another weight off his back.

Eris sighed, annoyed at the distraction - it was just another instance of the day. So, he closed his eyes, resting on the semi-cool bed.

That night his sleep had been worse than it usually was throughout his life, with dreams of a dewy countryside and soft clouds against a cobalt sky. A place only a few dreams in his life had taken him to, usually after his father tortured him - although none were as vivd as this nights was.

This dream was different, with a soft smile upon him and a delicate hand running through his hair, then down over his scarred back, in the dream. It could have been peaceful to others, but to Eris, the comfort was painful. Nothing was ever comfortable in his life, despite the palace of which he lived.

He awoke with a soft sweat coating his bare skin, and decided to splash some water on his face before returning to his bed, thinking, again, of the princess from Dawn.

Brie.

#acotar #eris vanserra #autumn court #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #under the mountain #dawn court #thesan #loa #lady of the autumn court #amarantha #night court #eris vanserra x oc #peregryn #dawn #fanfic #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[veenvss]

dawn court

the family , 2/7

1 , autumn 3 , day

The courts have always fascinated me but while reading and looking at the map I always thought that the worldbuilding was too rushed or too simplistic. So, I have decided to reimagine the courts in a way that makes more sense to me. Who knows? I may end up using these in the future for a book of my own.

As I stated in my post about the Autumn Court, I'm doing these alphabetically. So, the next court for a family discussion is Dawn.

Not much is known about Dawn in general. They focus on tinkering, as seen with Nuan in ACOWAR, and it could also be taken that Dawn has one of the highest number of immigrants:

“No,” Beron said, frowning, “but where did she come from? Who are you?” The last bit directed at Nuan. “I am the daughter of two High Fae from Xian, who moved here to give their children a better life, if that is what you are demanding to know,” Nuan answered tightly. Helion demanded of Beron, “What does this have to do with anything?” Beron shrugged. “If her family is from Xian—which I’ll have you remember fought for the Loyalists—then whose interests does she serve?” Helion’s amber eyes flashed. Thesan cut in sharply, “I will have you remember, Beron, that my own mother hailed from Xian. And a large majority of my court did as well. Be careful what you say.”

With a quick google search, I found that Xian is just a 'unapostrophed' version of Xi'an, a big and historically influential city in China. Heard of the terracotta army? Guess which city.

So I'm taking it as Xian is some version of China, and even Nuan is a Chinese name. So Thesan is half Xian/Chinese. Now for the other half.

With another quick google search and a quick scan of a wiki article, I found that Thesan is an Etruscan name. The Etruscan civilisation is an ancient civilisation which ruled over an area of ancient Italy known as Etruria (modern day Tuscany), which was taken over by Rome in the Roman-Etruscan wars quite a few years ago. Thesan was an Etruscan goddess, the goddess of dawn, divination and childbirth, compared to Eos and Aurora.

So with those, I'm gonna say what I would name Thesan's parents, his Dawn father and his Xian mother, and their characterisations. Bare in mind that I am English and all of these names are found from probably not trustworthy sites with basic meanings of names. I will also be writing these names like you would in English, so surname last.

YAWEN ZHU- "elegant, cloud patterns" "vermillion red" A very quiet lady, she spent most of her time in the libraries of Dawn, reading and studying. She was incredibly well-educated and she often tutored in the universities, teaching politics and her native language to students. Outside of her hobbies, she spent her time with her husband and son, never able to have any other kids outside of her one. She taught her son her native language, and raised him to be as kind and forgiving as she was. Her and her husband were rarely able to be away from each other, dying together after their time was through, even though a mating bond was never sensed.

ESPLACE ROIG- "asklepios" "red" A family man, he was publically very loving towards his wife and son, unusual for many High Lords. He spent a lot of his time growing up as a healer. He was never meant to be High Lord, it was his brothers instead, yet a plague spread through his court, and his healing background saved him then, when he was young and able. As an older man, with an even sicker wife, he appreciated their time together well, until they left for the heavens together.

Now, the next group of people mentioned in the Dawn Court is the Peregryns.

The Peregryns are distantly related to Drakon’s Seraphim people and provide Thesan with a small aerial legion, Rhys said to me of the muscular, golden-armoured males and females gathered. The male on his left is his captain and lover. Indeed, the handsome male stood just a tad closer to his High Lord, one hand on the fine sword at his side.

So the Peregryns are similar to the Illyrians but also vastly different. They're closer to Drakon's Seraphims but are also highly respected, enough to be a captain and the lover of the High Lord.

Unfortunately, we learn nothing else about them. No names to give me a lead, nothing. So, I'm going to create some random history about Dawn. Due to the seeming closeness of the Peregryns and Fae in Dawn, their names is going to have gotten more mixed over time, and although there aren't many Etruscan-y languages still around, Etruria was in Italy, some I'm basing them on Romance languages. I chose Galician, as I took Spanish as GCSE and Galicia is in northern Spain.

XURXO PUGA- "earthworker" "thorn" He chooses not to talk in public, especially around people he is unsure of or dislikes. In private, you can never get him to shut up. He talks about anything and everything he can get anyone to listen to. When he's not training his army or protecting his high lord, he spends his time farming his own little vegetable patch. For an airborne creature with wings, he loves to spend his time digging in the earth, cooking treats for him and his lover to share looking at the glowing sunsets.

#acotar #dawn court #thesan #peregryn #acowar

[sketchyorsomething]

Heyy does anyone out there beta read a oneshot (about 1,3 k words) of mine? It is abt Thesan and his lover fom acotar

English isn't my mother tongue so I'm kinda nervous of it containing grammar errors or some other language related stuff

#thesan #thesan x his lover #peregryn #dawn court #beta request #beta reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #proof reading #writing help

[shallyne]

This or That ACOTAR edition

Let's play a game. I give you two options and you choose one. Comment or reblog you results 💕

Cauldron or Dread Trove

Monsters (like Bryaxis) or Witches

Seasonal Courts or Solar Courts

Dusk Court or no Dusk Court

Daemati Powers or Shadowsinger Powers

Soup or Biscuit

High Lords ruling their Courts or High Queen/King ruling Prythian

Court of Nightmares or Autumn Court

Seraphim/Peregryn Wings or Illyrian Wings

Winnowing or Flying

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #Acotar game #Acotar this or that #seasonal courts #Solar courts #High Lord #High lords #High Queen #High King #Shadowsinger #Daemati #Acotar witches #the cauldron #Dread trove #Winnowing #Flying #Illyrian #Peregryn #Seraphim #Court of nightmares #autumn court

[sylverwxngs-wp]

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, half-High Fae, half-Illyrian warrior.

Odessa, daughter to Thesan, High Lord of the Dawn Court, half-Peregryn warrior, Half-High Fae.

Decades before the arrival of Amarantha to Prythian, decades before High Lord Rhysand met his match in human-turned-fae, Feyre Archeron, there was a girl born of spite and fury that caught the eye of the deadly High Lord.

Blessed with inexplicable gifts, Odessa, the only child of the High Lord of the Dawn Court lived her life in ignorance and trained daily as a warrior in the infamous legion of Peregryn warriors that protected the Dawn Court. Unbeknownst to the young Fae, she was the only child of the High Lord of her court, and thanks to the powerful blood that coursed through her veins, Odessa was granted powers far beyond what of any daughter of a High Lord had ever received. Her powers were rare and deadly, and Thesan had no chance of ever teaching his daughter to master the manipulative, shadowy gift she had been granted. The only person he could trust was the very Lord all of Prythian feared, for no one could guess his true motives.

High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court was a deadly force no Fae or mortal would ever dare to cross. His reputation struck fear into even the most volatile Fae, and Odessa was no exception. Unfortunately for her, the only Fae alive capable of teaching her how to harness the deadly but valuable gifts she had was the very Fae she feared most. But upon meeting the mysterious High Lord, Odessa began to question the mysterious myths that surrounded him and his home of supposed terrors. How could a man so dedicated to his people be so villanized by the rest of his realm? Young and naive, Odessa finds herself caught up in the deadly, confusing politics of the Fae world, as well as her own feelings for a man she could never hope to understand. So what happens when enemies arrive on Prythian’s shores and change the course of history forever? Will Odessa be able to master her skills and save her people, or will she too fall victim to the slick charm and masked deadliness of a woman who sought to destroy anyone who got in her way?

He was everything Odessa loathed: cocky, manipulative, and dangerous.

She was everything Rhysand craved: independent, fierce, and powerful.

Here’s a little sneak peak into my upcoming Rhysand fic, The Curse of Eternity. It is set before Amarantha arrives on Prythian, so I’m not erasing Feyre! She just hasn’t happened yet. Also, there is virtually no information online about the Peregryn species of Fae, so I’m taking a lot of creative liberty with them!

Odessa’s character design is slightly based on Laena Velaryon from HoTD! She has dark brown skin with white hair, a pair of white, feather wings, pointed ears, and golden eyes. She will often be seen in golden attire, as she is a well trained warrior from the Dawn Court. Her hair style and color will change several times, though, so all of the photos in the collages above do represent how I picture her to look as she changes!

I’m so so so excited for this fic now that I’ve started diving back into ACOTAR! I’m not sure when I’ll formally publish it, but I wanted to go ahead and give a sneak peak of what’s to come!! It will be exclusively published on my Wattpad account, @/newtaholic!

(Also, note: the collages above are made by me! However, the photos were taken from Pinterest. I do not claim ownership of any of the used photos. All rights reserved to the owners!)

#acotar #acomaf #sjm books #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre acotar #illyrian #bat wings #angel wings #angel devil #enemies to friends to lovers #smutty #fierce #laena targaryen #night court #dawn court #prythian #amarantha #newtaholic #peregryn #seraphim #wattpad #fanfic #fan fiction #acotarfanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #rhysand fanfic

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

I was thinking about how to make a fic that i am certainly never going to write makes sense in the genetic part at least, so I might info dump a lot and trying to fix sjm inconsistences:

Some powers are linked to physical traits

Which explains why every single kid LoA had got her hair and looks mostly like her, no matter who is the father. All of her kids have especific traits they got from her and also as part of their power came from her... it still doesn't mean all fire powers are linked to those traits as Beron doesn't have red hair, for example, but in LoA's lineage it is. Which also explains why in winter court not everyone has white hair (I am pretty sure there was a line in acowar about their army having faeries with different looks) yet kallias, viviane and her sister does, they are nobility. It also could be especulated that a similar thing occours in summer court, all the nobles living in the castle have silver/white hair, yet we don't get a description about other faeries.

Wings

There is four genes that determines if you will have them or not, otherwise it is no sense:

AAAA = wings

AAAa = wings

AAaa = you have it and you get kinda a shapeshift ability, so you can put them out or in your back when you want.

Aaaa = you only carry one gene for wings but you don't have them.

aaaa = you don't have wings and also don't carry any gene

Ears, pointy oe round

Like eyes, two genes, it can be either:

AA = pointy

Aa/aA = pointy

aa = round

or

AA = round

Aa/aA = round

aa = pointy

putting it here bc someone might find it interesting

#acotar #acotar headcanon #LoA #lady of the autumn court #mama vanserra #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #kallias #viviane #winter court #summer court #autumn court #illyrian #peregryn #seraphim #lady of autumn

[stormhearty]

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Triggers: character death, torture, blood, war

Summary: The fear that Helion envisioned had come true — the Death-God used your body to resurrect himself from the lake on the continent. But what no one had imagined, was that you would be alongside him — tainted in darkness matching the Death-God. What would the Inner Circle and Azriel do, to be bestowed your forgiveness for their acts against you? What will be the fate of Prythian with you guiding fates?

Note: The last part of “Pushed to the Edge”! I thank you so much for all the support for this requested series! Like I said, never thought people would want a continuation of that one-shot! I had so much fun writing this trilogy, and had so much fun watching everyone’s reactions! Please enjoy! Also… I will be writing an epilogue for this series. AHEM. Just to wrap everything up in an angsty bow. Also, I am always willing to write more for Seer!Reader! Don’t be hesitant to ask!

Part One | Part Two | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The room was deathly chilled, the skies above clouding, blocking the bright sun that had ruled over Day Court. The powers of a God overtaking a High Lord’s. The two of you stood near the large balcony window, shadow and sin coating the two of you — a God and a Seer — a powerful duo shaking the very foundations of Prythian.

Kosechi’s sinister grin grew wider as he turned his heels, walking towards the dias, you follow his tail. You felt the shimmer of wards opening and the winnowing of guards, the Dawn Court’s Peregryn surrounding the edges of the throne room — all ready to attack if the Death-God lifted the wrong finger against the High Lords.

But little did they know, you were a guard dog, ready to attack anyone that would be a threat to the God — ruthless and unforgiving.

Both of you rounded the last quarter of the table, stepping up to the dias as the Deathless God took a seat on the High Lord’s seat, as you stood near him — a vision of a High Lord and his High Lady of the Darkness.

You felt it though… The stares from the Inner Circle. They did not care for the Death God that casually sitting on the throne. They only looked at you, disbelief in their features but you could see something underneath that — the look of longing and regret.

You wanted to sneer, you wanted to show any hint of disgust at the look on their features — how dare they. After everything they have done to you.

Kosechi looked at the Inner Circle, before glancing at you from the corner of his eye and he snicked under his breath.

“How unfortunate, High Lord of the Night. To have lost your beloved Seer to me…” he pointed out, casually resting head tilting on bony hands as he looked at Rhysand, grin still evident on his features. “Did you know… how the High Lord of Day had hidden her from my followers since she was young … protected her within the wards of Day Court. I’ve been waiting… Waiting for her to fall to me, and you and her mate had made that happen.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hands onto his thighs as the grin widened, sharpened teeth glistening in the light.

“She was beautiful… when my followers found her bleeding body. It took a lot of power to seize her, your shadows protecting her…” Blackened eyes staring at Azriel, “But it was a well-worthy fight. Her light was dimming, leaving an empty echo and so I filled it. Filled it with darkness, it was so exquisite, watching her light dull…”

The Death-God caught your eye and tilted his head.

You had looked at him, charcoal hues staring before you bowed your head, silently thanking him as you felt the weave of shadow up your arms, ghosting over your skin — ensuring you were safe and well protected from any danger, even from Koschei himself.

Azriel watched, those tendrils of shadow wound around you, hearing the purr of devotion to you:

“We serve,

“We protect…

“We find, we hide…

“We cherish the light…”

After your death and after the disappearance of your body, Azriel could never summon the shadows again; they did not flock to him, they did not sing to him, not ever since then — and he realized why.

He realized that despite his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister, his shadows knew exactly what he had wanted, where he should have stayed next to. His shadows were attracted to your light, like flies to fire.

And they still clung to you, even now, and would never let you go.

He tried, fisting his hand as if trying to summon his shadows back to him; however, he could hear them hiss at him:

“You failed, you lost…

“You are not worthy of her light…

“We will not sing for you, only for her…”

Your eyes snapped at him as if feeling the attempt to strip you of the shadows. Your eyes met and you just stared, much like he did to you — all those months ago. That very stare, as if reaching into the depths of his soul, causing him to stumble backward, hands bracing the table behind him — the echo of the broken mating bond aching in his chest; something he will never get used to.

“And so,” Kosechi ended*, “I would like to give my savior a gift… one that I had promised her when I had resurrected her from her unfortunate death,” Koschei cheerfully said, straightening up in his seat, “Blood… of all of Pyrthian, starting with her beloved Night Court.” He raised a hand, darkness flowing out of him.

The Peregryn saw that to be a moment of attack and charged for the Death-God, only to be killed, swiftly and silently by you.

No one had seen it, your movement from the dias to the edges of the room, as if you used the shadows to winnow from one end to the other, though impossible. You stood, surrounded by lifeless bodies of those guards, dull eyes staring at the dead, in your hand a familiar dagger — Truth-Teller, dripping in blood.

Helion, Rhysand, and the rest of the Inner Circle watched, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in their throats at the site of you.

This wasn’t you.

You were someone who would never hurt anyone.

You hated seeing war, hated seeing bloodshed — saw it too often in your visions.

And it had been your duty to ensure, with your sight, to prevent it.

And yet, now, you were the one wreaking havoc on Pyrthian.

In that instant, they knew, they had lost you, completely, to the shadows and darkness that they had drowned you in — in the darkness that the Death God had filled you up with. They had failed you, completely and they weren’t sure… if they would ever get you back.

Feyre looked at you, and took a step forward, only to have her held back by Rhysand — a feeble attempt to protect his mate, “(Y/N) …” she called out your name, as if a way to break you out of this trance, to call you back to them, “What has he done to you? We apologize for not listening to you, and for not seeing you. Please, come back home… We’ll make it up to you, we’ll do anything to bring you back… please…”

You snapped your head towards her, charcoal eyes staring at your former High Lady, a mixed look of longing and hatred towards her way. Tears swam beneath your eyes, forcing them back, “You can’t apologize now…” you seethed, “You can’t tell me that you want me back — when all you did for months was ignore me,” your voice was shaking, that small part of you, that old light you had broken through, “And home? When has that been my home for the past few months? I was alienated, thrown away, cast aside, and yet you want me to go back? For what? For you to do the same again?”

Tears broke, as they ran down your cheeks, “He has done nothing to me… You all have forced your hand to make it this way. I have asked you multiple times to listen to me… I begged all of you to listen, but here we are now…” Pained hues stared at your family, “You have doomed us all to Pyrthian’s destruction.”

That old part of you, the one that had died when you had taken your life, the one that disappeared when Kosechi revived you, cried out — cried out for the loss of your light, loss of your innocence, loss of your own life; cried for the circumstances that fell into place. That old part of you drowned in the darkness that your mate and family had subjected you to. Leaving you seeping in the darkness that the Death-God soaked you in.

And you were losing yourself in that darkness.

You never meant it, you never meant to resurrect the Death-God, you didn’t want to.

You never meant to be the cause of Prythian’s doom.

But fate… seemed to be laughing in your face.

Azriel watched the confrontation between you and his High Lady, but he couldn't glance her way, all his attention on you. He watched as you held Truth-Teller in your hand, watched as his shadows wrapped around your hand that held that dagger as if to steady it in your hand, holding back the quiver that shook your body.

He could see it, that bit of light, that piece of you that he loved so dearly — he hoped to reach out to it… to bring you back home, to bring you back to him.

He took a step forward, passing his High Lady, a hand reaching out towards you.

Your head snapped at him, glaring at him as the hot streams of tears never ended.

It was as if the whole world stilled, just the two of you in that room.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered; your name was a prayer on his lips.

Much like his was yours, for so many centuries.

He stood in front of you, a hand shakily reaching up to try to touch you, to hold you again — to apologize for his mistakes, to beg for you to come back. Azriel let scarred fingers touch your cheeks, wiping the tears that stained your cheeks. Your skin was cold, ice cold. No warmth, nothing that echoed you. But he held on, cupping your cheek and holding you near him.

You bit your lip, trembling, fighting back all the urge to lean into his warmth — to fall back in love with the Shadowsinger.

“I’m sorry… I am sorry. I will beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness. To kiss the very ground you walk on, follow the shadows to the darkness of your soul. I will be your blade, slicing your enemies for you so that your soul doesn’t darken anymore…”

Azriel’s hand slipped down your face, caressing cold skin as it trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before grasping around your hand that held Truth-Teller. The burn of a bargain tattoo searing onto both of your skin.

He flinched slightly but kept his hazel eyes on you, his hand gripping tightly onto yours. He felt your every shiver against his hold, he felt those tendrils of shadow wrap around his hand — hissing at the completeness of the two mates.

A sob escaped you, your bottom lip shaking as you looked at those hazel eyes you adored. His words soothed the ache in your chest; it was all you had wanted to hear… all those months ago.

But you couldn’t… you couldn’t let yourself forgive him.

You wrenched your hand away from him, as your other hand reached up, mirroring him, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek, “We had everything, Az…” your voice was hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing, lyrical, broken, “A family that loved us, a family that we cared for… Yet you were willing to throw it away for a few moments of passion, gallivanting with Elain… You had chosen her over me…” Dark eyes looked at the Made-Fae who stared at both of you with wide brown hues.

You stared back at Azriel, who looked at you as if you were the whole night sky, “…You, Azriel, have broken me, entirely and fully. You will beg for eternity for my forgiveness… We will see to what lengths you will go through… for me…”

You brought his face close to yours, your scent of fresh soft florals — jasmine and sage, overtaking Azriel’s senses. Your lips hovering over his own, “I will show you, my love, on how much you have broken me…”

And with your other hand, you flung Truth-Teller across the room, towards Elain, stabbing her right in her chest. A scream echoed, before your shadows flooded, blanketing the room in darkness, Koschei’s maniacal laughter ringing through the dark.

Azriel had lost track of how long he had been trapped within his cell, with no remembrance of how he got there. The wards that surrounded his cell were unbreakable, one of strong, ancient magic weaving through its walls. He had tried, multiple times to break it. However, difficult; his siphons were taken away and his wings were battered. His strength only depleted day after day, with every attempt to get out. He yelled and screamed, only to be met with silence every single time — he lost all will after that.

So he sat, in that cold, dark cell, watching the sun through the small crack in the rock as his only light source.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world — in Pyrthian.

He heard, though, through the cracks in the rocks.

He heard the whispers of Koschei’s magic and powers seeping through Pyrthian. The destruction of the world was quick and simple. The God’s power was no match for the Fae that lived, the Fae that had fought against him. He had realized that he and his family had caused this plight to fall upon Prythian.

And that you were right next to the Death-God, using those arrows made of shadow and darkness to rain havoc on both fae and humans alike. Sparing no one in its terrible wake, but…

He had heard of the whispers that you had asked to spare the High Lords from the destruction.

All but the Inner Circle.

The first time you had come to see him was three days after being locked in that cell. The shadows still clung onto your body, whispering and seething at him.

You had tortured him, physically and mentally. Using Truth-Teller to inflict wounds on skin and whispering to him on destruction that wrecked Prythian — as if you were lovers laying in bed after lovemaking.

After hours of torture, shadows swarming towards him to heal those wounds, you had lifted the silencing ward, allowing him to call out to his family — for them to communicate to each other… to keep their sanity within those walls. A kind gesture, you had reminded him. For them to listen to each other — when they couldn’t do the same to you.

What he didn’t realize was that the silencing spell was a haven — it allowed Azriel not to listen to the screams of torture that befallen his family.

He could hear the yells of his High Lord, the call of Feyre to her family, the frantic screams of Nesta and Cassian calling for each other, and the whimpers of the still-alive Elain.

There were many times when he tried to reach out — call for them, let his voice be an anchor through the pain.

He had been the reason for this destruction.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Azirel stopped reaching out; there was no point, there was no getting out of there.

It was like their own Prison, but it was of their own making.

The second time you had come to see him, you had pressed Truth-Teller into his hands, dark eyes locking into dulling hazel.

“I call upon your promise, Shadowsinger…” you had told him, the sting of the bargain tattoo on the back of his neck, the call of the use of the bargain, causing him to flinch, “The blade that will free my soul from the darkness. You promised you’d be it, right?”

And that’s what he had become.

A sword of blood — against all of Prythian.

All for you.

He wielded Truth-Teller against all Fae, beast, and humans alike.

He followed your command, not a single thought but listening to your voice as you whispered with the shadows on who to kill and whom to spare — much like a puppet on a string. Slowly breaking from the inside as he raised his hand against his home.

He had thought that you’d call on him often. As he promised, he didn’t want your hands to be stained more with blood, to have your soul darken more.

But you rarely had called him, only twice you had asked him to kill for you.

When the creak of his cell door opened, hazel eyes looked up from his position on the ground, watching you enter and closing the door behind you.

You tilted your head at him your hand reached out towards him, and Azriel shifted to his feet before kneeling in front of you — his bloodied hands grasping your own and pressing a kiss towards the top of your hand — a movement of devotion.

You leaned down, hovering over him as he looked up at you, “One last time… Azriel…” you whispered, your breath caressing his skin as you pressed Truth-Teller one last time into his hands, the two of you were winnowing out of his cell.

The two of you landed on familiar lands — Velaris — and in the distance the darkening cloud of Koschei’s followers and the Death-God himself, heading towards the City of Starlight.

Azriel watched as they slowly descended into the city, his body screaming to defend, to fight… to protect his home. But he waited for your command, on your word.

What he had not expected was for your shadows to cover his eyes, cover his ears, and slither around his hand that held Truth-Teller. His senses were blocked by darkness, and he couldn’t help the panic that zipped through his body.

This wasn’t like before — you never used your shadows like this.

He knew it was torture for him, to watch himself raise his hand and blade against Prythian — it was the reason why you forced him to fight — to see watch Prythian burn in his wake.

He was confused and it showed in his features.

He felt your hand on his upper arm, through the Illryian leathers that seemed to stick to his skin. He felt your body close to his own as you whispered in his ear, “Let the shadows guide you, Shadowsinger… Let them help you kill on my command…”

Azriel felt his throat bob and allowed the shadows to guide his feet, swarming around him and allowing them to whisper to him again.

He tore against leather and skin, smelt blood that splattered onto his face, and heard the muffled screams and cries of whoever he cut down. He didn’t know who he was killing, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to see the lifeless bodies of those who lived in his home, he had passed by on the streets.

He didn’t want to see the lives of the Velarians he just had taken.

The shadows continued to whisper to him — where to turn, when to strike, when to kill — relying on them as he did once before. He and the shadows were working in tandem, following your commands.

As he walked through the streets of Velaris, he felt the world calm — the screams stopped, the smell of blood fading through the whisps of wind — as if time stopped around him.

He allowed the shadows to lead him, stepping over fallen bodies, and debris. Azriel didn’t know where he was being taken and he didn’t want to know where if it meant more bloodshed on his people.

Footsteps grew closer, and a chilling shiver ran down the Spymaster’s spine, ears picking up on the slightest sound from the direction of the footsteps, Truth-Teller armed against whoever might attack him.

“…Strike in the void in the chest…”

He let the shadow lift his arm, as he lunged forward, Truth-Teller gleaming in the light as he broke through skin, striking at the place where the shadows whispered to hit.

A familiar gasp reached his ears, and the body collapsed against him; his arms naturally wrapping around.

The shadows slithered away from his body and Azriel blinked, focusing his eyes on the figure in front of him.

In his arms, at the end of Truth-Teller was you — he had stabbed you.

“(Y/N) … What…?” his breath came out shaky, as he collapsed with you in his arms, his hand releasing its hold on Truth-Teller as it remained embedded in you, in your chest, right where the void seemed to be swirling around the dagger.

He looked around him, noticing that it wasn’t the bodies of his city that lay on the ground but of Kosechi’s army — you had commanded him to kill Kosechi’s followers.

Before he could breathe out something else, a yell echoed through the skies of Velaris. Azriel whipped his head toward the sound, and he watched Kosechi’s body strike the ground, cracks on the earth as he stalked towards Azriel — the same gaping void in his chest mirroring your own.

Charcoal eyes of the Death-God shifted from the Spymaster’s to your own, as your life was slowly leaving your body and he let out a broken laugh, “Seems that your Seer has planned this… since I had resurrected her. Our connection...” another laugh, one of disbelief, "...was our downfall..."

Eyes moved again to Azriel, “You all never deserved her…”

Azriel watched as Kosechi’s body was swallowed by the void, leaving nothing but whisps of air in his waking — the Deathless God, dead.

Not even a second later, he was focusing on your body, watching the shadows wrap around Truth-Teller, as if trying to stop death from taking your body.

“No….No!” he screamed, as he shifted you in his arms, pressing a hand against your cheek and his forehead resting against your head, “You can’t do this, (Y/N)…” as he tried to catch your eyes, hazel eyes in panic mode.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think. All he could think was that he was losing you all over again — and this time permanently.

He felt tears streaking down his features, watching them fall onto your face, “What did you do, my love? Why did you do this?” he whispered against your skin.

He felt you chuckle, one so broken and shallow and he watched you look up at him, your colored hues staring up at him — one devoid of the darkness that had swallowed you up.

“I had always loved you, Azriel…” you mumbled, “… Loved you with my whole being… for centuries I had been devoted to you…”

A cough escaped your lips, dark as night blood dripping down the edge, “You will, for eternity, regret and mourn… You will be as broken as I was when you betrayed me…”

He leaned against the hand that you had lifted to rest against his cheek, your blackened blood streaking against his skin.

“You will never forget what you had pushed me to do… To save Prythian…”

With one last breath, your hand fell limp against your chest, your eyes dimming as the last of your light finally diminished. The shadows went wild against your body, their cries ringing in Azriel’s ears as he shook, he brought your body close to his.

A roar echoed through the skies of Valeris — one full of anguish and regret.

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @setayeshmohseni @kindasleepycryptid @f4iry-bell @woodland-mist @kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @harrystylesfan2686 @anuttellaa @ithan-holstroms-girl @judig92 @venuseuripedis @fairywriter-oracle @thehighlordishere @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @historygeekqueen @dr4g0ngirl @ayme301 @kemillyfreitas @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @naturakaashi @kittenbi @namelesssav @guiltyreader @awkardnerd @je-suis-prest-rachel @quackitysdrugdealer @thesunloveschips @brieflyclassymortal @justdreamstars @isa1b2h3 @himesuedi @fxckmiup @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @t0uch-starved-h0e @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst #azriel x reader #( .one shot : pushed to the edge ) #azriel angst

[lilac-witch]

Hi cute! how are you? I hope you're well! You could write about Az returning with Feyre from training and they are talking and Az is so unfocused that he doesn't notice that there is another person in the room besides the ic, so y/n screams and runs out to hug Az and they're over. falling to the ground haha ​​they are best friends who have feelings for each other. Y/n had been away on a mission and didn't know Feyre but she knew her from EVERYTHING Az had been telling her jandjsmcjsldk thanks baby

First request! Super sweet ask and a great idea :)

Gadzooks - Azriel x Reader

masterlist

Summary: After weeks away on a mission, Y/n returns to her family in the Night Court, with the addition of a new member. And thanks to Azriel, she feels like they've known each other forever. Meaning: "an exclamation of surprise or annoyance" Word Count: 658 Warnings: None.

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

"A letter has arrived for you, m'lady."

Y/n's head drifted from the paperwork before her, to the Peregryn male situated at the door. She motioned for him to come forward, receiving the envelope swiftly.

Once the male had left, Y/n tore into the white paper.

Dear Y/n

So much has happened since you left for Dawn. Feyre is officially living in Velaris, and I've taken over her training regiment. Let's just say her technique could use some work.

She's great though, perfectly suited for Rhys. If only the stubborn bastard would finally confess to her that they're mates.

I miss you. Cassian is as annoying as ever, and Rhys is so busy fretting over Feyre, so there isn't anyone to really talk to.

I hope everything is going well in Dawn, and I can't wait to see you again.

Your loyal friend, Azriel.

Y/n smiled as she finished reading through the letter. Over the many weeks that she had spent in Dawn Court, Azriel had kept her up to date on all things Feyre-related. From their first meeting, to the trauma she'd endured, Y/n knew it all.

Perhaps it was time she returned home. It was coming up on three months since she'd left, and Thesan seemed to no longer require her services. Yes, it was time to return to Velaris.

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

"You did well today," Azriel said as he and Feyre strode through the halls of the House of Wind.

"I feel like I'm getting stronger. The regimes no longer hurt so much," she laughed.

"Well then, maybe they could do with an upgrade," Azriel stated, lips twitching upwards into a smirk.

"Don't you dare, Shadowsinger."

Azriel was about to open his mouth in retort, when a solid object collided with his body, propelling him towards the floor.

Azriel would have been concerned regarding his shadows' lack of vigilence, or even his own instincts having not kicked it, had it not been for the warm vanilla scent that filled his nose.

"Y/n..." he mutter, arms wrapping around her warm body. "When did you get back?"

"A little while ago," she muttered into his neck, hot breath hitting his skin in the most delectable way.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too, Az."

The heartfelt moment didn't last long, courtesy of his brother.

"If you two lovebirds are done, I believe introductions are in order."

Azriel glared daggers into Cassian's skull, doing his damnedest to keep the blush that crept up his neck, at bay.

He helped Y/n up, hands lingering on her waist for a second longer than what just 'friends' would do.

Rhysand cleared his throat, stepping towards the female at his side.

"Feyre, meet Y/n, the last member of our inner circle, and my most trusted emissary. Y/n meet Feyre..."

"I've heard all about you," Y/n stated, mouth spread wide in a smile. "All good things of course."

Feyre's face grew warm, and her eyes met Azriel's.

"Is that so?"

Y/n nodded, taking a cautious step forward, before wrapping an arm around Feyre, guiding her towards the kitchen.

"Indeed it is, and what better way to get to know me than over a cup of tea. Has Azriel mentioned I make a mean cup of tea?"

"He has not," Feyre stated, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Hm, how rude," Y/n huffed, smiling at Azriel as the pair disappeared from sight.

He felt his stomach flutter at the sight of that beautiful smile. It had been too long since he'd last seen it.

"You know, you complain about me not confessing to Feyre, but I've had to watch you tiptoe around Y/n for over a century," Rhys drawled, a teasing smirk on his obnoxiously handsome face.

"No one asked you," Azriel grumbled, heading in the direction the two females had gone, in hopes of escaping more of his brother's playful jabs.

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

And I'm back!

it feels so good to be able to write again, and to be able to bring your requests to life. A reminder that my inbox is open to all your dreams and wishes ;)

Until next time lovelies :)

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand #cassian #feyre archeron #dawn court #thesan

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Masterlist

Warning; English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes.

Azriel x f!Reader

Payback is a bitch (angst, fluff)

Best mistake (fluff)

Broken Bat (angst)

Alive (angst)

Circle. (fluff)

I fell for you. (Angst) ,

Part 2 (x Eris) ,

Final part (a bit angst, fluff)

Scary mate (mostly fluff)

Trapped mate. (angst)

Failed proposal. (angst, fluff),

Successful wedding (part 2)

Oops (fluff)

Peregryn. (fluff)

Meant to be together. (angst, fluff)

Missed you. (angst, fluff)

Idiot. (angst, fluff)

Forever (angst, fluff)

My mate (angst, fluff)

Scattered vows (angst),

Part 2 (coming soon)

I've got you (fluff)

Winter solstice (dad!Azriel, fluff)

Honeymoon phase (fluff, suggestive)

Untouchable. (angst)

Dirty mouth (suggestive, fluff)

Rhysand x f!Reader

Game night disaster (angst, fluff)

Between you and danger. (angst, fluff)

Sick (fluff)

Panic. (fluff)

Baby. (fluff)

Together. (angst)

What would I do without you? (fluff)

Lucky. (fluff)

Hold me. (angst, fluff)

Safe. (angst, fluff)

Insecurities. (a bit of angst, fluff. dad!Rhysand)

Let me take care of you. (mostly fluff)

High Lady (mostly angst, a bit fluff)

Cassian x f!Reader

Live without you (angst, fluff)

Perfect mate (fluff)

Wings. (dad!Cassian, fluff)

Forever yours (angst, fluff)

Not alone (angst, fluff) Warning; depression.

Finally (fluff, dad!Cassian)

My girls (dad!Cassian, angst, fluff)

Brat tamer. (SMUT 18+, angst)

Survival (a bit angst, mostly fluff)

Overprotective daddy (fluff, dad!Cassian)

Always. (angst, mostly fluff)

Forgotten. (angst, fluff at the end)

Eris x f!Reader

Everything is going to be okay (angst, fluff)

Sucker for a brat. (a bit angst, SMUT (18+) towards the end)

Part 2 (SMUT 18+)

Fake love. (angst)

Helion x f!Reader

Desire. (Angst, fluff)

Inner circle x f!Reader

De-aging potion (mostly fluff. Mate; Azriel)

Family (mostly fluff. Rhysand's daughter!Reader)

Series Masterlist;

Shadows and tears (angst). Completed. [Azriel x f!Reader]

Princess. (angst). Ongoing [Azriel x f!Reader]

Currently working on two new series. Planning to post one shots daily.

If you like my work send your requests. It will be my pleasure to deliver your fantasies with a touch of my own. Bat boys requests are welcome! 🖤🦇

Read this before you make a request!

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian acotar #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian #mor acotar #acotar fanfiction #the morrigan #acosf #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta acosf #feysand #amren #amren acotar #inner circle #nesta #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #elain x lucien #elain archeron

[lure-of-writing]

Why can't we?

Authors Note: Oh My gosh guys, the love on part two was insane, truly thank you so much. It makes me so happy seeing all the comments and reposts it means the most to me. Part three is officially here and I am so excited for you to read it and I can't wait to see what you guys think about it. Without giving the ending away I would love to hear what you guys think about an alternative ending? Anyways if you have any request or ideas please send them in and again thank you all so much!

Summary: After leaving the night court you begin to find your place in your new life, that is until the night court comes to be directly in your home.

Word count: 4.0k

Warnings: Angst, arguing, (Let me know if I forgot any!)

Part one: Never been good enough

Part Two: Left in regret

Thesan was waiting for your arrival with the captain of the peregryn army in the common area of his home. They had been waiting no more for ten minutes until they heard the thundering of wings and watched as Kolos landed with you in his arms.

Kolos was second in command under his captain and a lifelong friend of yours. Having been raised alongside him you knew he would never pass judgment upon you and also provide the support you would undoubtedly need in the following weeks as you figured out how to put your life back together. You were born into the dawn court but had chosen to leave with the idea of being able to be used to your full potential as a spy and you did in fact find that in the night court but you had also never regretted a decision as much as you also loved the people you met and memories you made from that said decision. 

“Y/n welcome back home to the dawn court, we have missed you sincerely.” Thesan the living embodiment of calm energy welcomed you with open arms and a warm hug. “I assume all went well?” you could tell that the question was directed at Kolos “Yes they didn’t try to stop us but I think y/n has something very important to tell the two of you.” Without another word Thesan took a seat in a chair and motioned for everyone to do the same. “Azriel…Azriel is my mate.”  you watched with a baited breath for anyone to say anything and for a while no one did that was until your high lord spoke up. “And how do you feel about that?” 

“Well considering that he's in love with Elain, not very great. But I am not going to force either of us to be in a relationship that the other does not want. He was only apologetic because we are mates. If we weren’t he would have never chosen me.” In the week that you had been residing back in your home court you had kept all this information to yourself, unwilling or maybe even unable to accept the cards you had been dealt but to finally tell someone other the Kolos felt like lifting a weight off your chest. Like it was a start in the right direction to leaving the past and starting anew. 

“This is certainly unexpected information.” the captain spoke up “Yeah you’re telling me.” a breathy laugh fell from your lips as you glanced at your high lord waiting to see what he had to say. “I guess that means I can expect letters from Rhysand or maybe even a visit from the night court?” Thesan looked at you in question. “Oh no, I don’t think that will be happening. I made myself very clear to Azriel that I didn’t want to be his second choice or anything like that. If I haven’t been good enough for him in the almost five hundred years of knowing him then why would I suddenly be good enough now? I’m not interested in partaking in those mind games.” 

“Very well. I support whatever decision you make. Always.” you bowed your head in appreciation to the kind ruler. For as long as you remember Thesan has always been kind to you, always let you do as you wish and have control over your own life. He never offered any input unless asked and always listened with compassion while allowing you to figure out your own life, the least you could do is serve in his court to at least restart to repay him for all the care and compassion he has shown you in life. “Thesan? If you would allow it, I would be honored to serve in your court again, it's the least I can do to repay the kindness you have shown me.”  you could tell the captain was uneasy with your request and it made sense you had just come from the night court claiming Azriel as your mate and now wanted to serve in his lover's court. But truly you wanted nothing more than to leave behind the past and start building your new life in the dawn court. The court you were always supposed to be in. “It would be an honor to have you serve in my court.” 

Surprisingly it had been almost six months after leaving before the night court reached out to set up a meeting with you and the high lord but upon your request it was denied. You had finally settled into a routine not only within the court but within your own life and you had no plans of having any member of letting the night court interrupt that. “So how many more times do you think that they are going to send a letter before they get the hit?” Kolos sat at the kitchen table and watched as you made the both of them breakfast. “Honestly I don’t know. It's one thing in Rhysand is sending them himself but it's another if Azriel is asking him to send them. You know how Illyrians are, too stubborn for their own good.” Kolos couldn’t help but laugh at your statement for it held nothing but truth. “I suppose you are not wrong but what happens if there is a high lords meeting? You will be expected to attend.” The food was set before him as you moved to take the seat next to him. You placed you head on your head and smiled at him “It's a good thing I have my own personal warrior to protect me” 

During the first initial weeks you stayed in the court palace but soon after you moved into Kolos house. At first it was only because you would never pass up the opportunity to live with your friend, especially in the time of trying to move past your old life of the night court and what's a better idea then moving forwards with the support of a lifelong friend. As the six months came and went you found yourself becoming interested in Kolos and it was safe to say that the same could be said for him. The line that was becoming increasingly more blurred of friends and lovers had never been crossed but something told you that it would be very soon. 

You were at the daily meeting with Thesan and all of his other trusted advisors including Kolos when the announcement was made. “Rhysand has requested a high lords meeting, he also asks that it be held here.” there it was, the final card that you knew Rhysand had to play. Unlike most courts, Thesan had two emissaries, one was an older male and the other was you. He handled the day and night court while you handled the summer, spring, autumn and winter court. Theo, your counterpart, could not handle the likes of Berons offspring but unlike him nothing brought you more joy then the verbal sparring match that was bound to happen while dealing with Eris. Being in charge of the seasonal courts meant you had no idea what was happening with the other ones. Didn’t know it was escalating to the point of a high lords meeting being called but you also knew that when it came to Rhysands brothers he would stop at nothing to help them. 

You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Nobody knew the full reason as to why you had returned to the dawn court but your departure from the night court had piqued enough interest that the fae in the room were looking to you for the answer as to why Rhysand requested this meeting. You knew why but refused to acknowledge it. “And what exactly is the reason behind this meeting?” Kolos was quick to pull the attention away from yourself and onto him. “He wants to see how everyone is doing after the war and talk over next moves.” you watched as Thesan weighed his options. “Very well, the same rules apply as last time.”

The date of the meeting had been set for three months after the letter had been read, as it was to ensure each court would be able to attend despite their excuses. You had spent the morning getting ready trying to fight off the nerves of having to see your old family again when Kolos decided that he had enough of watching you fight the thoughts running loose in your head. Leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed he simply watched for a minute as you perfected your makeup. “You do know that if Azriel tries anything I will kick his ass.” startled you look through the mirror to meet his eyes. “You also do know that the last time there was a high lord meeting that he was able to get through the barriers? I mean you were there.” Kolos simply gave you a shrug and a sly smile before taking in your outfit. A beautiful dress adored your body, it was a soft blush orange color as if to mimic the color of the sunrise. The top of the dress was a v-neck that stopped just below the sternum with straps on the top that started on one side wrapped around your neck and connected to the other side as if to make an x on your chest. The sleeves see through and flowy while the bottom of your dress had two hip high slits on each side of your hips. The whole dress was stunning. 

Kolos knew that the dress you picked out was nothing out of your usual attire but after seeing you in night court clothes for so long it was nothing short of breathtaking to see you in dawn court attire, and it didn’t help that your dress was fit for a queen. As much as he would love to sit here and drink in your beauty for as long as you would let him, Thesan wouldn’t be pleased if you were last to the meeting that was being hosted in his court mostly for the reason of your old personal matters. So without another word said he ushered you to the door and from there you winnowed to the court palace. 

Ryhsand was fashionably late as always but of course not without letting his shadowsinger and general making sure it was safe first. You watched from afar as he appeared from thin air and assessed that it was safe for his high lord and lady. Soon after the inner circle appeared before your very eyes. You watched as they took their seats across from where you were sat at the side of Kolos. Thesan was in the middle and to the right of him was his captain and to his right was Kolos and at his side was you. It was a safe bet to make that they were surprised to see you on the side of warriors and not the side where the other important court members sat. 

You felt as if Azriel tried to catch your eyes but you refused to give him that satisfaction so instead you focused on watching all those in the room except the night court. “I forgot to tell you that you look stunning by the way.” Kolos had leaned over to whisper into your ear and intern place himself just mere inches from your face. “I see what you’re playing at but thank you.” you whispered back as you felt Azriel stare weigh on your body. “I’m not playing at anything, I simply forgot to compliment you earlier and thought I should do it before the chaos ensues.” 

From the moment Azriel arrived his eyes couldn’t leave your body. They assessed you from head to toe to make sure you were ok before taking in your outfit. The night court attire looked good on you but he hates to admit the dawn court was devastatingly beautiful. He took in every part of your exposed skin and wished he could keep the eyes of every male and female off of you so that nobody got the idea of approaching you. 

Azriel knew that you were avoiding making eye contact with him and anyone else from the inner circle and he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt but he also knew he was to blame. But nine months had passed since he seen you last and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and be able to explain everything, to beg for your forgiveness and make the mating bond work. In those first six months Azriel sent letter after letter along with Rhysand pleading for you to come back and just talk to him but eventually he realized you wouldn’t so he asked Rhysand to call this meeting in hopes that he would get a moment alone with you to tell you everything he needed to say. 

What Azriel didn’t account for was for you to be seated directly next to the random man he saw when you had come back to the house of wind to collect your belongings. He also didn’t account for the said random man to put his face so close to yours that if you moved you would be kissing. Azriel watched as the man whispered something in your ear and you turned to face him with a light blush now coloring your cheeks and soft smile gracing your features and before he knew it he was in between the two of you.

“Don’t ever get that close to my mate again.” Azriels words were thinly veiled with a promise of a threat. “Who is to say that she is your mate shadowsinger? As far as I knew you were with the middle Archeron sister. What was her name again? Ella? No…it’s Elain right?” Kolos knew that he was dancing on the edge of a fine line when it came to upsetting Azriel but he also knew that he was a warrior in his own right and could also handle his own if it came down to a fight. 

It was as if you had been watching everything happen in slow motion. From Kolos complimenting you to Azriel appearing right before you and now them bickering. Snapping out from the haze you were in you grabbed Azriels arm marched him back over to the night court and demanded that Rhysand winnow you to the river house.  

“What the hell were you thinking?” you yelled at your so-called mate. Without another thought you stalked up to Azriel and started pushing an accusing finger into his chest. “What made you think you had the right to do that! In front of the other courts also? Are you out of your mind?” Azriel had nothing to say, he had never seen you this mad, not even when you were yelling at him about Elain. He could see the redness creep up your neck and slowly take over your face, he watched as the rage built behind your eyes. Backing away from him you turn to look at the rest of the group and spot Elain sitting in the corner holding nyx. The person who started this all. You leveled her a glare before turning your attention back to the man who decided to play hero when it wasn’t necessary. 

“Do you really think I needed you to come to my rescue like some damsel in distress? I know that this might be new news to you but I am no such thing and have never needed your rescuing, especially not now. That man you decided to threaten was Kolos, my childhood best friend for your information since you seem to think he's some sort of threat to my life. He will never be someone I need saved from. You on the other hand, well the same can’t be said for you.”  

“I know you don’t need me to save you but y/n, that man could have kissed you if he had leaned forward. Please try to see that from my point of view. He may be a childhood friend of yours but you are my mate and I can’t just allow another male around you like that.” If you weren’t mad before then now you were livid. How dare he talk about someone being close enough to kiss you when the whole inner circle knew that he and Elain were doing much worse. “Let's get one thing clear, Azriel, I may be your mate but I do not want this bond. I refuse to let myself fall into a relationship where I am only wanted because the bond makes you want me. So if I want another male to kiss me then that is my decision only, you will have no input.” Once again you were face to face with Azirel, anger radiating from your very body. “You want me to look at that situation from your point of view? Ok Azriel, then let's look at you and Elain from my point of view shall we? How about all those times when she purposefully pushed herself into you or the times when she would need “extra” help with something as simple as stretching or when you two would sit and whisper to each other at family dinners. You also could have kissed her if you happened to move any closer. Plus let's not act like you two are innocent, everyone here knows what you two did behind closed doors. Oh and one last thing Azirel you do not allow who gets to be around me. You never have and you never will.”  

Through the mating bond Azriel could feel your resentment not only towards him but also the situation and it was the first time the spy master could truly say he was feeling panicked. Azriel knew he had made a grave mistake but he also knew that he would have never even looked in Elains direction if he knew about the mating bond. If only you could see that he would spend the rest of his life apologizing for the pain he caused you if you would let him close enough to do so. He just had to get you to understand how sorry he was. 

Rhysand could see that the situation was escalating on your part and that Azriel needed a minute to think of how to approach you so he tried to step in and help. “Y/n I know that you are upset with Azriel, but I think you need to step back from the situation and take a moment to calm down.” Rhysand may be a high lord but the pure hostility coming from you could rival his own power and deep down he knew he made a mistake interjecting. 

“I need to calm down Rhysand? That's hilarious coming from you, I mean I do remember you being willing to kill Tamlin with your own bare hands for what he did to feyre. But I need to calm down? Alright.” Turning back around to deal with Azriel you found him on his knees before you. “Y/n I know that I fucked up. I know that I should have realized sooner that you had feelings for me because that is my job as spymaster to be aware of the slightest things and I am sorry that I failed to see that, but you have to understand, if I had known about the bond I would have never even looked in Elains direction. I know I can’t control who's around you but you have to understand I just want to keep you safe. And I know that Elain and I aren’t innocent but I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you, you just have to let me.”

For a second all you could do is stare down at Azriel and feel his sorrow through the bond. And for a second you wanted to forgive him but deep down you knew that this moment would be something you could never let go, never get past. You knew that Azirel could spend the next thousand years apologizing but some part of you would never be able to fully trust him. And the realization broke your heart but you knew you also owed it to yourself to never be treated this way no matter the circumstance. A heartbeat later you knew the choice you had to make. 

“Azriel, get up.” He had never heard your voice so dejected before and he knew something was wrong. “ I do not care that you were with Elain. Did it make me happy? No. but you were also with her before I knew about the bond so I guess it doesn’t matter but what does matter is that up until that point I had spent hundreds of years showing you my love with no acknowledgement ever but suddenly this “wholesome” human girl appeared ,who was afraid of fae mind you, and you were infatuated with her as if she hung the moon and the stars. What I do care about is that if it weren’t for the bond we share you would have never considered picking me instead of her, would have never looked my way. I mean hell you forgot me on the battlefield because Elain needed you.” 

The inner circle watched as you took a frustrated breath in while trying to collect your emotions and they held their breaths also while waiting for you to say something else. “I have wanted a mate for as long as I knew about their existence and as much as I want to have this with you Azriel I can’t. There will always be a piece of me that can’t let this go. You could spend forever apologizing but I will never be able to fully accept it, and neither of us deserve that. I deserve to never be anything but the only choice and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t have an ounce of resentment in their heart towards you. So no, I can’t do this.” 

“Why can’t you see that I am picking you! I want you! I want this bond, I want this relationship!  If this is what you want and it's what I want, why can’t we make this work? I would rather have you and you be mad at me for the pain I’ve caused you then to not have you at all. I will grovel at your feet until you see that I want this, if that's what I have to. I will do anything. Please…please just let's at least try.” Azirel had never felt so many conflicting emotions at once. Anger, heartbreak, nerves. You name it he's experiencing it waiting for your response. 

“I’m…. I am so sorry Azriel. I can’t. At least not right now. I need time to process and to heal. I need time away from you and this and the whole situation. I need to find the version of me that is not the one who would do anything for an ounce of your attention. I am not saying no for forever but for now I am and for however long else I need. I won’t do anything to the bond but please don’t send me your emotions. I need to sort mine out without trying to figure out yours also. I do not know how long it will take but maybe someday in the future we can try again.” 

With the permission from Thesan, Kolos winnowed to the river house to make sure you were ok and to bring you back from the night court. What he wasn’t expecting to find was Azriel on his knees before pleading for your forgiveness. He watched from afar as you explained why the mating bond couldn’t be. He disregarded Azriels form as you turned away from him and walked towards himself. Kolos wasn’t sure how you knew he was there considering you never once looked away from Azriel until you walked away but without any words needed he took your hand and winnowed away back to the dawn court to begin your healing.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx , @piceous21 , @harrystylesfan2686 , @kemillyfreitas , @naturakaashi , @kalulakunundrum , @thelov3lybookworm , @marina468 , @feyres-fireheart , @thalia-as-blog , @blurredlamplight , @wallacewillow0773638 , @inkedaztec

#azriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you

[purple-writer8]

Long Story Short - ACOTAR

“And he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home, if the shoe fits walk in it everywhere you go.”

warnings: war, war injuries, past relationship tension, new mating bond, self doubt, angst (but like not a lot), allusions to sex

1.9k words

Part 2 to Closure

Masterlist :)

You fought in the Winter Court battle along with Thesan and the Dawn Court’s Peregryn legion. You were a skilled warrior, trained by Rhysand himself— you used to love training, now you despised those memories. 

Looking into the mirror in your bathchamber, you flinched as your fingers grazed over the purple bruises forming on the side of your face. It wasn’t pretty, it was horribly gnarly looking. A Hybern warrior had given you a hard blow to the face, beating you to the ground. If it wasn’t for one of the Peregryn warriors, Thesan would have probably needed to plan a funeral for you. 

It was all a blur. One day you were mourning Rhysand and your failed romance, the next you were fighting in a war alongside him and all of the other courts. You had told Azriel that you did not care to make amends, and you meant it. But this was for a greater good. 

A soft knock came upon the bathchamber, making you snap out of your haze and exit to find your brother standing there. Thesan looked miserable. Your brother was a protector, ever since you knew reason, and this war— the casualties— took a steep toll on his mental health. “Why are you here?” 

He was supposed to be back in the war camp with everyone else. You only left because you did not wish to heal and sleep amongst Feyre and Rhysand. The wounds in your heart still needed time to heal.

“Azriel is hurt.” Thesan looked distraught. You could not explain the way that your heart plummeted at those three simple words. For some reason, it made your heart ache— the thought of Azriel hurt. “It’s his wings. I could not heal them… they are not the same as Callan’s. Will you try?” Thesan asked, and instantly you nodded. Your healing abilities were good, almost as good as his. You could try. 

Your brother grabbed you and in a blink of an eye, you were winnowed away. 

-

A chill ran down your spine when you winnowed into Azriel’s tent. He was screaming, Rhysand holding him down as he writhed in the bed— his wings shredded in a horrible manner. You felt yourself freeze, eyes wide— it was like you could feel his pain— and you would do anything to stop it. You would rather take on his pain than let him feel it. 

Rhysand was there too, but for the first time ever, you didn’t even glance at him. No, instead you rushed to Azriel, kneeling besides him. There was something in your heart, something that made you strain, that broke you— all because you saw him in pain. 

He stopped his thrashing when your hand reached for his face, his hazel eyes widening by the bruise that overtook your own face. “What happened?” He asked, as if he weren’t the one with shredded wings. 

“Nothing. I am fine,” you assured him, feeling like he was truly gravely worried for your wellbeing. His eyes remained on you, searching all over your body for more injuries. “I am not the problem, please sit so I can heal you. Please,” you begged him, feeling like you couldn’t breathe the longer you stared at his wings. 

He sat up, and you got to work.

-

You spent all night working on his wings, and by dawn they already looked much better than when you had come in. Azriel had fallen asleep, and he had slept peacefully for many hours all while you watched over him. You did not sleep at all, you were sick with worry. 

“Thanks for coming, I know that you took a harsh beating in Winter,” that velvety voice you had once worshipped whispered from the doorway. To turn and see Rhysand there, in Azriel’s tent, made you angry.

You almost wanted to tell him to leave, but you were in no place to make commands. This was still his camp. “I came for Azriel. He doesn’t deserve this,” you responded bitterly and you meant it. 

Ever since that talk the two of you had in your balcony, you had become obssesed with the shadowsinger. For some reason, you could not get him out of your head, even in the battle, while killing and fighting— you thought of him. “Well, I thank you. Thesan was drained after the battle and struggled to heal him… when he said you would do it… I doubted,” Rhys confessed, his violet eyes drifting to his sleeping brother. 

“You think I am so selfish that I wouldn’t heal him just because he is your friend?” You asked, and you truly tried to reel in your emotions, but they were too strong for you to control. It wasn’t even about Rhys, you realized, it was about him thinking you wouldn’t help Azriel. 

“You can sometimes be selfish, yes.” Rhysand shrugged, and you wanted to lunge foward and strangle him for suggesting you were selfish. He was the epitome of selfishness, and here he stood— accusing you after you came and healed his brother. 

You had tried avoiding him ever since Thesan told you the Dawn Court would fight alongside him against Hybern. You tried picking your battles, and decided Rhysand was not a battle worth fighting, yet here the battle stood, picking you. 

You decided to ignore the dig, your gaze drifting to the still asleep shadowsinger and asking, “how did he get so hurt?” 

“He went to save Feyre’s sister from the Hybern camp,” he replied, and you could not explain the jealousy that surged within you at the mention of Azriel saving that girl. 

Those freaks of nature bring more harm to Prythian than good, you wanted to tell Rhysand about his mate and sisters, but once more figured it wasn’t a battle worth picking. 

A groan escaped the shadowsinger, and instantly you ran to his side, helping him sit up in bed. His facial expression was one of pain, and you knew taht he was trying his best to mask it. But you knew... you felt his pain. 

“How are you?” Azriel croaked, his voice more hoarse than usual due to all of the pain filled screams he let out the night before. You scoffed in disbelief, “me?! I am not the one whose wings were torn apart.” 

He winced at the reminder, but still his hazel eyes did not leave yours. “You healed me…” he said in the gentlest of tones, making your heart skip a beat. You frowned, wondering why in all of Prythian your heart was thundering inside your chest. 

“Will he heal fine?” Rhysan’s icy tone snapped you out of the trance Azriel has you in. You turned to him and nodded, scowling at the High Lord. “He will heal completely but he will not be able to fly for a while.”

Azriel protested, saying how he felt fine. Though one cold glare from you made him sink back down unto the bed. Rhysand noticed this, how you were able to tame down Azriel with just a look. “For how long?” The High Lord asked. 

“For a few weeks, at least. For the health of his wings, he can not fight anymore battles…” you trailed, looking at Azriel with a solemn expression. You somehow knew he wanted to fight, to protect his family and Prythian.

“How is Elain?” Azriel asked Rhysand, and you snarled. You had always been a jealous female, but always over Rhys, never over anyone else. 

“Fine. Shaken up but fine, everyone is fine… we will be meeting up later today to discuss some things. Join us, Az…” Rhys’ violet eyes shifted to you, “you may as well.”

“Thanks for the permission,” you mumbled sarcastically. 

Rhysand stared at you. A cold, unforgiving glare, then soon after you felt those talons you had once adored caressing your mind. He wasn’t looking for a way in, no, he was reminding you who he was— what he could do. You didn’t say anything, only glared at him as he left Azriel’s tent. 

A beat passed and you turned to the shadowsinger, “I’ll get you some food.” You were quick to your feet, and before Azriel could protest, out the tent you went.

You didn’t understand your new and— quite blinding— feelings regarding the Night Court’s shadowsinger. You’d known Azriel for almost a century, and you had never cared for him further than for friendship. And now, suddenly, you felt as if you had been stabbed when Rhysand said he had been hurt because he went to save another female. 

Was this your mind’s sick way to get over Rhysand? You stood over a pot of rice that boiled on top of a bonfire, filling a ceremic pot you had found with rice and chicken for Azriel. 

Azriel. While you swooned over Azriel, some Ilyrian warrior snatched the plate from your hands and walked off. You shouted an obscenity, but the male’s glare made you shrink back into yourself. 

Fuck your life. You looked back to the pot that had been cooking and realized that plate contained the very last of the rice and chicken. You couldn’t let Azriel starve. 

You groaned and got some more rice from a nearby sack, throwing it in the boiling pot and letting it cook. A yawn escaped your lips as you watched the rice cook, then a few minutes later— it was ready for him. You served him a big bowl and went back to his tent. 

You went inside, only to find Azriel squirming in bed, his large wings twitching uncontrollably. You gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to him. “What happened?!” You shrieked as you tended to him. 

“It’s nothing, really. I just stood up too fast,” he tried keeping it cool, but you knew well that he was hurting. You looked up at his face, and you gasped when you felt it. 

A mating bond snapping inside your soul. So strong it almost sent you flying to the floor. 

“What the fuck?!” You asked in shock, your chest rising and falling in a heratic manner as you stared up at the Ilyrian male. He looked devastated, solemn as he looked at you. “Im sorry…” he whispered, and you frowned. 

“Why would you apologize?” You asked, still reeling from the knowledge of who your mate was. “It is disappointing, I know. To be mated to me instead of who you always wanted. If you wish to reject me…” 

“Why would I reject you?” You asked in shock, your mind running an entire marathon as you thought about everything that this meant. Azriel was your mate… Rhysand’s brother was your mate. You had known him for ninety years and you never felt the bond, no… because you were in love with someone else before ever meeting him.

“Why would you accept me?” You reeled from his words, and your heart— you could feel it— begged you to accept him. 

Because you thought back to the years you lived in Velaris, to your interactions with Azriel and the Inner Circle. 

One Winter Solstice, before Under the Mountain, you and Rhysand got into it— and it was bad— one of the biggest fights you had ever had. You had left the townhouse in a hurry, not even putting on your shoes and coat. Rhysand demanded you to come back, his voice thundering in your mind over and over again. You didn’t. You were so mad, you sat in a small Velaris coffee shop— freezing to death— until Azriel appeared. 

He held your shoes and a coat. You wondered if Rhysand had sent him, though he hadn’t— because Rhysand was still ordering you back in your mind. 

As you recalled the many times Azriel only ever showed you kindness and gentleness, you took the bowl of rice you had made, handing it to him. 

His hazel eyes widened in shock. He looked at the bowl, as if it was the most grandiose thing in the world. “You are serious?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. 

“Please eat, Azriel.” 

-

Two Years Later 

Losing Rhysand felt like falling off a precipice. Loving Azriel was like climbing right back up that hill. It was absolutely everything. Your mate was… perfection reincarnated. He swooped in. Just when your life could not get worse— he came in and turned it all around. 

You never thought in a million years that Azriel would be, could be your mate. You had pined for Rhysand for ninety years for cauldron’s sake. But now… now you only ever thought of your doting mate, of the male that taught you that love could be something beautiful, something that you didn’t have to beg for or ask for. It was given freely, willingly. 

You were currently sitting on your bed, preparing the final touches for Azriel’s winter solstice gift. It was already noon, and he had spent the day with his family in the Night Court as you had asked him to. He had wanted to skip his family’s celebration, but you didn’t let him. 

Your relationship with the IC was still difficult, you and Rhysand were not yet completely healed from your ninety year tryst— but regardless of that, you never wanted Azriel to push his family away. Even though Rhysand and him had definitely grown apart. 

Rhysand didn’t care about the bond, that was what he claimed. But then he grew hostile, and always sent Azriel on long missions— away from the Dawn Court where you resided, or he didn’t let Azriel visit you. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. He had a mate and now a son. Rhysand just did not think you were enough for Azriel. 

You hummed a solstice tune as you fixed up the little gift box, and just as you finished it, your beautiful mate winnowed into your room. You squealed, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, eagerly kissinng him. 

Azriel chuckled, “my angel seems happy to see me.” He hugged you back, despite the flowers he held in his beautiful hands. You nuzzled your face into his chest, warmth and love engulfing your senses instantly. Azriel was your home. 

He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. “How was it?” You asked him, watching as he moved to his dresser, carefully discarding all of his leathers. “Good, but would have been better if my angel mate was there,” he groaned the last part, still upset he didn’t spend winter solstice morning with you.

“Your angel mate was preparing your gift and spending the day with Thesan in the village,” you answered in a chirpy manner. You did not care that he hadn’t been there in the morning. All you cared was seeing him, period. 

You watched as he changed his leathers into more comfortable clothing, salivating as you ogled the way his muscles flexed with any sort of movement. After he was done, he turned to you, a smirk adorning his handsome face, “ready for your gift?” 

“Are you my gift?” You asked excitedly, making him laugh as he grabbed a tiny box from his discarded coat pocket and strided across the room towards you. Cauldron forgive you, but this male was your religion.  “No… well… later.” He said, his voice gentle and soothing as always. 

His loving arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you closer into his figure. You looked up at him, smiling as he leaned down to engulf you in a passionate kiss.  “I go first,” he whispers as he pulls away and hands you the velvety sapphire blue box. 

You squealed and opened it to reveal two sets of keys. You smiled, eyeing the pieces of metal before looking up at Azriel with inquiring eyes. “I bought us a house in Velaris… near the hills…” He trailed off. 

He eyed you for your reaction and then his wings twitched in excitement, “and a home here, in the city.” At that statement you gasped. 

“What?!” You shrieked, eyeing the keys in sheer shock. He had bought two houses?! For you?! 

“We can never agree on a place to live. You don’t want me away from my family, and I don’t want you away from your brother. So I figured… we split our time as we wish… I’ve spoken to both Rhysand and Thesan and they have agreed, we can go and come as we please. We get to live together without sacrificing our lives in our home courts.” Azriel explained, and the way he spoke made your insides flutter beyond remedy. 

“You are serious?” You asked in shock, not expecting such a thoughtful and frankly, expensive gift. Azriel nodded, “all I want is to be near you. I will buy a home wherever you want as long as I have you. I know you don’t want me to leave my family… and I would hate for you to have to compromise for me…”

“I… fuck, my gift is so bad.” You cursed, rubbing your temple as happy tears swelled your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your mate. Thoughtfulness a partner had never given you in the three centuries you had lived. 

“Angel, you are the only gift I will ever need. You know that. This bond… is everything I ever wanted, and more.” Azriel kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You rested your head on his chest until he asked, “is my gift the leather cuffs I wanted for my armor?” 

“Yes.” You groaned. 

“Fuck yeah, angel. Cassian will be so jealous when he sees what Nuan came up with.” You giggled at his words and handed him the box. 

You watched as your mate eagerly opened and then put on the brand new mechanical cuffs. They were black and blue, and had some features that apparently would make him a more unbeatable opponent. “I feel like this is so bad compared to the TWO houses you just gave me.” 

“Sweetheart,” he frowned, “you think I kid when I say my mate is my most exquisite, excellent gift?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, only for him to tackle you to the bed, his wings flaring wide as he peppered your face with sweet kisses all over. “You are all I have ever wanted.” 

You laughed gleefully and gave in to your loving mate. 

Long story short, you survived. 

-

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @wallacewillow0773638 @lilah-asteria

#Spotify #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel one shot #azriel imagine #azriel supremacy #batboys #batboys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar fic #rhys x reader #acotar x reader

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.  

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’  

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’  

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.  

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

 ***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn’t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’   

#hunt x nesta #acotar #crescent city #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

[sketchyorsomething]

Acotar headcanon:

Winged beings (e.g Illyrians, Seraphim, Peregryn) are normally taller than the average High-Fae (abt. 15-20cm/5.9-7.9 inches) because that way they are closer to the sky.

But also because the fetus of a kid takes up more space (not only because of height, in this case I'm referring to the wings) in the womb. And because taller women wouldn't die as easily when giving birth, the genes for being tall became more and more dominant in the respective populations and thus the average height increased via natural selection.

Rhys always gets teased by Az and Cas because he's a little smaller as them, due to his half-illyrian heritage

#my biology teacher would kill me for the way I said selection works #it's definitely scientificly inaccurate #he wouldn't kill me though #we're besties #but he'd be disappointed #anyway #i'm also far too lazy to research character heights so this is absolutely just a headcanon #illyrians #peregryn #my beloved #seraphim #thesan's lover #cassian #azriel #rhysand #drakon

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey ~ Chapter 8: Forging a Warrior

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Azriel helps you open up about your past.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Child abuse, neglectful/absent parents, torture (yes again i'm sorry she's been through a lot)

Word count: 2.6k

Prev | Next

“My parents,” you started, “were mates. I know that’s not exciting for the Inner Circle, with your abnormal amount of mating bonds. It’s almost statistically impossible, really.”

Azriel laughed and shook his head softly at the comment.

“For the common people who don’t take baths in mythical objects, you know that’s rare. Very rare. My mother was a respected officer in the Dawn legions, and so was my father in the Illyrian army. They both were powerful enough to gain recognition at the time. When their bond snapped, everyone was uneasy at the thought of a child born of the two courts, but the idea of fated offspring from two powerful magic wielders was enough for them to tolerate their offspring. They kept it all very hush-hush, until they were certain where I’d end up.”

“I say they’re mates but it certainly wasn’t the romantic dream people portray.” you continued. “The hate between Peregryns and the Illyrian… well, I’m sure you’re aware of how deeply entrenched it is. When I was born, I was just a piece of property to be used as a bargaining chip. Dawn and Night battled over me like children, claiming they had the right to claim me. In the end, it was settled that I’d get education in both courts, that negotiations would take place when I’d have my first bleed, and that I’d be married off to someone in whichever court ended up not owning me.” You shuddered slightly at the memory. You’d been made aware of the potential suitors during your teenage years, and you knew a future with the men that each high lord put forward would be misery.

Azriel’s face darkened. He seemed not to be a fan of the arranged marriages that run rampant in Illyria, you thought.

“I’d have expected such a trade from the Illyrians,” he said through gritted teeth, “but for the Dawn court to be involved in such dealings… They must’ve expected a lot from you.”

You let out a snort. That wasn’t even the beginning of it.

“This was Thesan’s doing?” he added, and you could practically see the spymaster master gears start running in his head.

“No, I think Thesan would’ve done things differently.” You had never truly met him, but you’d heard enough from the people through your travels. He was a much kinder man or, at the very least, not someone who’d encourage the treatment you’d received as a mere child. Azriel appeared relieved at your words.

You hadn’t known the Shadowsinger that long, but you’d seen enough to understand he was willing to go to great lengths for the people he… cared about. There was no other way to put it. He’d begun caring for you as you had for him and, even if it scared you to death, it brought you much comfort.

“They expected me to move mountains,” you said, “and stop a thousand-man army without breaking a sweat by the time I was twelve. I was trained in every type of combat they could think of from the moment I could stand and hold a stick. Imagine a 6-year-old being treated like any grown soldier in the camps... I could deal with the physical training, but it was the hate and mockery of both courts that dealt the most damage. I hadn’t even grown my first flight feathers before I had heard every sort of insult possible and faced beatings from soldiers of all ages.”

“My parents…” you added hesitantly as you felt your voice wavering, “They didn’t care. If anything, they encouraged the others, because what worth could I have if I couldn’t protect myself? They berated me whenever I told them, they’d answer that it didn’t matter that the ones dealing the blows were twice my age, as I’d have to face much worse ‘out there in the real world’.

It deteriorated as I got older, without any magic to show for myself. The courts were growing restless, demanding things I couldn’t give them and, when I wasn’t able to do as they asked, they took any means possible to verify I wasn’t lying. During those years, they put me through pain… pain I hadn’t even imagined was possible.”

You blinked and looked up at the light blue morning light, trying and failing to keep your tears from falling. You felt the phantom slice of the blades, the coals, the spears they had used, every time you fell asleep. They’d keep you from unconsciousness each time and healers healed your wound, but you didn’t need the scars they’d erased as a reminder. You still carried your past with you every day.

You felt the subtle touch of Azriel’s shadows, still roaming hesitantly where you were perched on the railing. They slid over your shoulders, a weight to keep you anchored in the present. Azriel approached you silently, conscious of your distress. He looked murderous, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He raised a hand towards you but seemed to think better of it and retreated. You gripped him before he had the chance, uncertainty in his eyes at the contact of your skin against his. You silently ran your thumb over his rigid knuckles, trying to match the rhythm of his respiration as to calm yourself and focusing on the texture beneath the pads of your fingers.

You knew of the burns on his hand, you’d noticed them almost immediately upon meeting him, but they were anything but repulsive, despite what he seemed to think. They were a part of his history, what had made him into the man he is now, and you found that there was a pride to be found in them. It showed he’d survived, that he was stronger than what had happened to him.

He relaxed after a moment and stepped closer to you, hesitantly wiping your tears away with his free hand.

You were too deep in your own mind to think about the intimacy of the situation.

“When they finally realized that I was as good as powerless” you said, “No one wanted me. From that moment, I was just a disgusting half-breed on which they’d wasted their time. It didn’t matter that I could take on their best soldiers from adolescence, my blood was too tainted for them to bother with me. My father turned his back on me and stopped contact entirely. My mother decided to keep me in the end, and I still don’t know if it was a moment of weakness at the thought of leaving her child at the mercy of the world, or if it was just in hopes of me eventually discovering some hidden powers. I never asked her; I was too afraid of the answer. She sent me to some second residence she owned, hidden away from anyone else, where I kept training on my own and worked myself into the ground, still desperately hoping I could be what they all wanted.”

Azriel frowned. “I understand you would be easily recognizable in Illyria, but how could people even tell you weren’t fully Peregryn in Dawn? Surely, they couldn’t notice it at first glance.”

“The knowledge of my existence had traveled too far. Dawn had paraded me like cattle, hoping to lay claim. There’s also… There’s one obvious thing. It’s something I’ve kept hidden for a while now. I think the Vanseras might be the only ones outside of Dawn who even know about it. It’s very visible and it puts a target on my back. I didn’t want my presence tracked across Prythian that easily after I left Autumn.”

It was time for someone to know, you thought. If only to be able to stretch your wings, to finally get rid of the fears that you held for them. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do and looked around towards the house, peering into the balcony doors and to the roof, making sure you weren’t watched. The last thing you wanted was for this to reach Rhysand’s knowledge. His father had done enough damage to you as is, you didn’t need him to try and do the same.

At your hesitance, some of Azriel’s roaming shadows slithered in all surrounding areas, sweeping over windows and doors. “There’s no one here to see.” he reassured you softly after a moment, from where he now stood between your parted legs, your hands still joined together. You felt your anxiety fade a little; you didn’t find any dishonesty in his words.

You hesitated, still. He pointed his chin at his own membranous wings, and they stretched, slightly curved inward towards you, and brushed along each of your shoulders. He was inviting you to follow his movements, you realized.

Slowly, you straightened your spine and used the rarely used muscles that crossed your back to slowly unfold your wings. You kept them at a certain distance from Azriel’s, you weren’t quite ready for that type of contact. You winced at your wings’ stiffness, but shook them out to fully extend them, exposing the inky black dawn feathers that lined their interior surface.

Azriel’s mouth opened slightly in shock as he studied the expanse of plumage, razor focused. You knew they were unusual, the harsh contrast of white and black and sharp corners of them drawing the eye, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at his reaction. While you held no hate towards your own wings, you’d never let someone fully examine them since you were a child and had only ever received insults from others about their appearance.

“They’re beautiful, Dove.” he breathed, following every feather. The tension you held didn’t leave you.

“You might be the first one to say that.” you laughed half-heartedly.

His eyes cut to yours sharply. “They must’ve all been idiots, because those are the most magnificent wings I’ve ever seen.”

You flushed at the praise, barely holding his gaze as you shied at the attention. His hands twitched between yours, no doubt itching to study the feathers closer, and you guided one of his towards the closest ones. You instinctively felt the need to fold your wings away from the touch of another person, but you held a tight lid on your feelings and stayed as still as possible when his fingers brushed against one of the longest flight feathers.

You only twitched at the contact, keeping your focus on Azriel’s expression. He looked mesmerized as he explored the surface under his touch. You had no trouble believing he hadn’t lied about liking them, his childlike wonder blowing away any doubts you may have had earlier.

“You have a bigger wingspan than I do.” he said unexpectedly with narrowed eyes, as if the thought had slipped from him unwillingly. You couldn’t stop the startled laugh that escaped you, amusement flaring through you.  He’d just added an onslaught of teasing to his future.

Your fidgeting hands found his wings too as you giggled. You waited for a moment before touching them, and he made no comment on your intentions despite you knowing he was fully aware of your movements. He never missed anything. You barely touched the membrane, but then softly ran your fingers along the base of his talons and you felt him shudder under your hands.

“Don’t- Don’t start something you won’t finish, Dove.” he said hoarsely, lightly gripping the feather he was examining. You laughed again as you remembered the sensitivity of the Illyrian wings. You’d never had the opportunity to study these reactions up close, having never laid with an Illyrian, but you’d heard about the anatomy all the same in the camps.

“I won’t torment you today.” you teased softly, your hands retreating to rest at the nape of his neck.

He tried to imitate the gesture you’d attempted earlier, receiving nothing but another light twitch in response. “Do you not feel that?” he questioned, indignant at your lack of reaction.

“I do and it feels nice, we just have different… different erogenous zones.”

“Of course, you’d be the one person to actually call it an ‘erogenous zone’.” he muttered under his breath as you continued giggling at his display of irritation. You couldn’t help but think that he might get to figure how to make you shiver too… but only if you stayed. The last thought dampened your mood. You shouldn’t be thinking about that now. Trust him, you reminded yourself, Stop thinking about fleeing.

You curled your fingers into his hair and sighed as he continued his ministrations. Despite your thoughts, you were far more relaxed than you’d been in a long time. You didn’t remember ever letting someone touch your wings without you being forced or pressured into it, and the care he put into caressing the soft dawn feathers felt heavenly. You leaned forward and sighed, face dropping to Azriel’s neck and finger still raking through his curls.

“I didn’t tell you everything yet.” you murmured.

Azriel hummed in response, the decision to continue or not remaining yours. You didn’t want to break the moment, but you couldn’t stop halfway through. You didn’t move away from him as you spoke softly against his skin.

“When my mother died, I didn’t inherit anything.” You started.  “I don’t know who got her things instead. Some officer from the legion just showed up one day, broke the news, and promptly kicked me out. I barely had time to pack a bag. I didn’t feel like I could stay in Dawn, but I didn’t have anywhere to go either. I tried to send a letter to my father and never got a reply, so I naively assumed he didn’t receive it. I knew he had no interest in me previously, but I thought he’d show some mercy to a child he’d had with his mate. I traveled there and- well, you know the rest.”

Azriel stayed silent for a moment. “Your parents were some right shitheads.”, he finally said, and you didn’t have to see him to guess the frown that adorned his face.

“You’re telling me.” you muttered. “I take special comfort in knowing they both died painfully. Those two assholes both ended up rotting away alone in their courts from infections, not gloriously on the battlefield like they must’ve dreamt.” Fate had gotten that right, at least.

He chuckled and let go of your wings, instead wrapping his arms loosely around you, completely undeterred by the cruelness of your words. You basked in his closeness.

The moment was too short for your liking before his grip on you tightened. A few of his shadows emerged from the balcony doors, and he groaned deeply.

“We have approximately 2 minutes before Rhys and Amren come here to try and convince you to start training your magic.” he said.

You muttered a few choice words that conveyed exactly what you thought of the idea.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, Dove.” You pulled back and glanced at him. He had a mischievous look in his eyes. “You know, there’s a lot to do in the city.”

“I feel like an escape plan might be brewing,” you said with an arched brow. He smiled in response. “Won’t they be mad at you for leaving with me?”

“Not if they don’t catch us.” he laughed.

Rhysand and Amren found nothing but the remnants of your scents, flowing through the breeze.

Finally another soft moment 🙏 be prepared for a LOT of (requited) pining y'all

I've got a couple chapters already written that I'll just need to edit over the next few weeks, so the update will continue like they have so far!

As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about the story and your theories on what's happening next 💛💛

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 9

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 9/?

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: violence, death, swearing, trauma

*masterlist*

Chaos was the perfect word to describe what had just happened. There was metal, blood, death, and screaming in every direction. The only reason Prythian was still standing was because Amren unbound herself from her fae body and bombarded fire and brimstone onto the Hybern soldiers. It took the Prythians several seconds to realize that the battle was finally over.

Azriel breathed heavily as he looked around, seeing Illyrians and allies from the other Courts. He was waiting for relief to wash over him, but it never came, his gut knew something was profoundly wrong. He looked around and tried to locate his family, his shadows tasked to find you as well.

Hearing a female scream, he immediately slipped into a shadow and arrived at the horrifying scene of Rhysand lying lifeless and Feyre sobbing over his body. He was on his knees barely functioning as Feyre begged the High Lords to revive his brother and when they did, that feeling in his chest never went away. Amren was pulled out from the Cauldron and yet, the foreboding sense was still there. At that moment, a shadowy wisp hurtled toward him and screamed your name over and over again.

Azriel shot up, everyone looking at him as his shadows scattered to find you. “Y/n- “choked out the shadowsinger.

Then in the distance, they heard a deep voice bellowing, begging to be heard. “THESAN! THESAN! HELP!”

Thesan’s eyes widened as his eyes focused on the limp body next to Callon. A split second later, Thesan, Azriel, the Inner Court, and some of the High Lords followed. Once they arrived, everyone gasped as they saw you sprawled on your stomach, eyes closed. Your left wing was completely drenched in blood, the muscle, tendons, and cartilage connected to your back were shredded, the wing half attached. The bones on your right leg were shattered, your tibia sticking out from under your skin.

“She’s still alive,” said Callon. Your pulse was so weak he needed to press his fingers on your neck.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. He was on autopilot and only realized he had made his way to you when his hand wrapped around your wrist as if he needed to feel your pulse too. He breathed out in relief as he felt life under your skin.

Injured Peregryns and Illyrians watched warily, their heads bowed at the sight of your bloodied wings. The Illyrians who gained respect for you saw how you fought and prayed to the Mother and Cauldron that you would make it out alive.

Thesan’s mind whirred, the sight of your body on the ground sending him into overdrive. His hands glowed as they hovered over your body, “Broken bones, wing damage, and a stab wound,” said Thesan. “There’s faebane in her system, I can feel it.”

The other fae looked at your mangled body in horror, if you weren’t part of Thesan’s bloodline, you’d have died the moment you hit the ground. Thesan needed you to sit up so he could have access to both your abdomen and back. With help from Callon, Azriel gently propped you up against him and awaited instructions.

Nicking his finger with a blade, Thesan placed droplets of his blood in your mouth. “This should help the faebane get out of her system faster. I’m going to need some clean water to flush as much as I can.”

Tarquin immediately went to your side and drew water from the clouds, as Thesan magically pulled back your damaged armor. As the cool water cleansed your wounds, it stirred you into consciousness. Azriel felt your body tense up in his arms as you groaned in pain. Your stab wound needed immediate attention, so Thesan worked on your stomach. The pain became unbearable as you slowly gained consciousness. You could feel every broken bone and your back felt like it was on fire.

Your eyes opened and everything seemed blurry, your non-broken hand gripping someone’s bicep as the searing burn on your back grew stronger. You didn’t know what was happening, the only thing you knew was you were in the worst pain in your life, but someone was there to help you.

Your eyes squeezed shut. “Stop,” you said through clenched teeth. “Make it stop.”

Azriel wanted to cry, his arms clutching you tightly. Why wasn’t Thesan moving fast enough? “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “Thesan is healing you, you’re okay.”

The sound of his voice did little to calm or reassure you, you were in too much agony. You were already crying, your face buried in Azriel's chest trying not to squirm away from the magical tugs of Thesan’s healing. Thesan spoke in a low calming voice as he explained every step to you, and when he was done with your stab wound, he warned you that he would set all your broken bones at the same time. You clutched Azriel’s arm tighter and braced yourself, a golden pulse came out from Thesan’s palms as a scream escaped your lips as every broken bone in your body snapped back into place.

 Azriel felt your body seize in agony and he didn’t think he could take seeing you in so much pain. He looked down at the grotesque injury on your back and left wing, now that Tarquin had washed away dirt and old blood, he could clearly see the shredded muscles and tendons made by claws. He and Thesan made eye contact, their faces paling at the sight. Wasting no more time, Thesan began reattaching the strands of muscle as your body spasmed, your screams turning hoarse.

“Stop!” begged Azriel. “She can’t take it, it’s too much.”

“If I stop, she’s going to die. Her body isn’t healing fast enough because she still has some faebane in her system,” said Thesan gravely.

Thesan was right but Azriel couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering any longer. He looked at Rhysand, his hazel gaze piercing into violet eyes.

Please.

Wordlessly, Rhysand dipped his head and mentally reached out, his talons feeling no resistance from your usually heavily guarded mind. The High Lord of Night shuddered as he heard your internal screams of anguish, as swiftly as he could, he took control and brought you peace. Azriel thanked Rhysand as he felt your body slump, your breaths heavy as your body recovered. Thesan continued his healing and did all he could, but he needed to get you off this battlefield.

Careful not to touch your wounds, Azriel cautiously brought you to your unstable feet and let you lean most of your weight on him. He wished he could carry you but there was no way he could without hurting your wings. Thesan placed his hands on you and Azriel’s arms and with a crack, Thesan winnowed to Dawn’s healing tent.

The sight of your bloodied body made the healers gasp and rush as they prepared a private cot for you. With Thesan’s help, Azriel gingerly moved your body to lie on your stomach. A healer slipped a strong painkilling tablet under your tongue, something new that Dawn Court had been developing. Azriel stood in the corner as he watched Thesan and other healers start working on your wings. He wanted to vomit, the left side was half-detached and the flesh connecting your wing was mutilated. He wished the Attor that did this to you was still alive so he could kill it slowly and as painfully as possible.

The shadowsinger wanted to hold your hand but he would just get in the way. He should have been there to defend you, but he knew that would’ve done more harm than good, he would’ve been distracted. That’s why he let a shadow latch onto you, it would only report back if anything had happened. Azriel rigidly stood in the corner observing every single step, it wasn’t until an elderly healer tugged on his arm and urged him to sit on a nearby cot did he realized that he too was in pain. His wings felt like they were on fire and the healer knew it too because the first thing she did was bandage his wings so he wouldn’t be able to fly.

By the time Azriel was covered in poultices and patched up, the other healers left to attend to the other Peregryns and foot soldiers, leaving Thesan to do the final touches. Thesan was the most powerful healer in the universe but even injuries like this were going to take time to heal. The attention to detail was painstaking, every muscle, tendon, vein, and nerve had to be healed properly, or else you may never fly again.

Thesan had to be perfect, you didn’t deserve to lose your ability to fly, you had done so much for him to protect his court and he would never forget that. Thankfully, you were still asleep, the pain medication doing its job. Wisps floated around you, watching Thesan curiously, some of them boldly intertwining with your fingers as if they were comforting you.

The High Lord looked at Azriel and the shadows. “I suppose you’re the person to thank for saving my cousin from Hybern’s first blast. I don’t know how you knew, but if you didn’t call her, she’d be dead.”

Azriel watched the rise and fall of your back, the moment he heard Nesta screaming for Cassian, he knew something was wrong and called for you too. His throat constricted as he remembered how loud and desperate, he sounded.

 “You’re her mate,” stated Thesan. Azriel blinked at the High Lord and then nodded. “Does she know it’s you?”

He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. She uh-- thinks it’s someone else…. I think she thinks it’s Tarquin,” said Azriel as he propped his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t want to tell me but now that I think about it, they seem close.” Azriel thought back to how Tarquin acted on the battlefield, his extra care as he washed all the blood and dirt away. The way the flow of the water knew your body. Azriel scrubbed his face and sighed heavily as he returned his gaze to your prone form.

Thesan slowly nodded as his thoughts flashed to the turquoise-eyed High Lord. Judging by the sight of the distressed spymaster, he wasn’t going to confirm Azriel’s assumptions.

“Did you know she doesn’t want a mate?” continued Azriel.

Thesan’s hands froze over your back, his head whipping to Azriel. “What?”

“She told me she never wanted a mate; she claimed it would make her weak,” said Azriel with a defeated laugh. He thought about the kiss and how you used him to distract yourself. “She really doesn’t want the bond to snap.”

Thesan pressed his palms against his eyes, his mind whirring at the thought of his stubborn cousin. He should’ve guessed you thought this way. “She’s going to need her family and friends more than ever. I am doing everything possible to heal her, but I don’t know how this will affect her flying. With her powers evolving and now her wings, she’s going to need us. If you can find it within you, please be patient with her.”

A corner of Azriel’s lips lifted, “I’ve hoped all my life for a mate, I could never let her go.”

Thesan hummed his approval. “You saw what she did today, she’s more powerful than I thought. The other courts will be wary of her, the humans, and faeries from Cretea and the Continent will see her as a threat. Word will spread about what she can do, and she’ll be in danger,” once again, Thesan paused his work to look at the shadowsinger. “Can I count on you to protect her?”

Without missing a beat, Azriel responded, “With my life.”

Of the times he had met Azriel in the past few centuries, this was the most Thesan had heard him talk. His voice was so soft and sincere, something he didn’t think he’d ever hear from Prythian’s best spymaster. Looking back down at you, Thesan sighed, he hoped you would be ready for the world when you woke up.

***

Rhysand called for Azriel, but he couldn’t stand to be away from you, so he left half his shadows and instructed them to stay with you no matter what. Once you were stable, Thesan winnowed you to your tent, your bed would be much more comfortable than a cot. After that, Thesan had to leave and deal with the aftermath of the war, to mourn and collect the dead so they could be properly buried. You also missed the meeting at the debilitated Archeron estate. Out of habit, Azriel kept looking over at Thesan thinking you were going to be standing next to him. The meeting had just ended and when his shadows informed him you were stirring awake, he winnowed in a heartbeat.

You groaned as you tried to push yourself up, but scarred hands placed themselves on your shoulders.

“Don’t sit up until Thesan says you can,” said Azriel as he gently pushed you back onto the mattress. Azriel crouched and placed himself in your field of vision.

With your eyebrows slightly furrowed, you scanned Azriel’s bandaged wings and your tent around you.

“The battle—we won?” you said trying to recollect your memories. “Something hot and fiery flew above me…. I remember falling. Why was I falling?”

It took you a moment and then you gasped, your neck careening to look at your back. Your muscles screamed as pain shot down your spine forcing your head to slam onto the cot. Azriel winced as a strangled cry came out of your lips.

You remembered the pain of the claws digging into your back. “How bad is it?” Your eyes were big and frantic, your mouth still open, unable to ask the most important question. Are my wings, okay?

Azriel’s gaze swept down to your exposed back, the skin raw and angry, the feathers still stained red. “Thesan worked on you for hours… he said we won’t know until you’re completely healed.”

Your lip trembled as your own healing powers surged within you, trying to understand the damage your body had taken. You sensed the extensive work that was done on your left wing, and tears cascaded down your cheeks.

Azriel explained how the battle ended, how Rhysand died to fix the Cauldron, and how the High Lords used their powers to resurrect him. He explained that Amren had sacrificed herself to save Prythian and how she was also revived by the Cauldron. You were stunned as Azriel updated you, forgetting about your own injuries until Azriel talked about how your body was discovered.

“When Callon found you, we thought you were dead, there was so much blood …” Azriel paused, reigning in his shadows that hovered over you. “You would’ve bled out if… you weren’t you.”

It hurt to nod. You lifted a golden glowing hand to check on your wings, to see if you could do anything to heal it. “I don’t know--I can’t tell if I’ll ever be able to fly again,” you choked out. “I’d rather die.”

Azriel cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears away. “We can worry about your flying later, just rest and heal for now.”

His hands were warm and heavy, you relished it as his thumb stroked your cheekbone. His contact was strangely reassuring, something you instantly missed when he pulled his hand back when Thesan and Callon entered the tent.

Your reunion with your family was only tearful for a brief time because you began to bicker with Thesan about your healing. You finally convinced Thesan you were okay to sit up and with significant effort and clenched teeth, you were able to sit up, the muscles aching. With your armor gone, you were only wearing leggings and a special brassier for females with wings. Azriel averted his gaze, but you didn’t care, you’ve worn more revealing dresses.

Thesan and Callon left to do court duties, you didn’t even bother trying to help them, you were in no shape to walk, let alone bark orders. An attendant stopped by to drop off a tray of food, enough for two people by the looks of it. Azriel took the tray from the attendant and as he set up an impromptu table, you peered through the tent drapes. It was already dawn, it had been a day since you had eaten anything, your growling stomach making Azriel smile.

Reaching out to pick up a cup of water, your muscles spasmed, making your arm feel heavy and numb. You tried reaching for a spoon, but the same thing happened, your still healing back muscles making you incapable of doing simple tasks.

“Here,” said Azriel. “Let me help you.”

He picked up a cup and let you drink, the cool water quelling your thirst. He took the fork and speared some fruit and pancake before holding it up to your lips. You chewed and stared at the shadowsinger who was diligently cutting your breakfast into small pieces. This entire scene felt strange and weirdly domestic, apart from your parents, no one had ever fed you anything and that was over a hundred years ago. This felt intimate and your chest burned at the sight of the handsome Illyrian warrior sitting in front of you. You almost swore something was tugging in your chest but after a deep breath, the feeling was gone.

“Azriel?”

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Why are you here with me and not your family? Not that I’m not grateful—but you don’t have to help me.”

Azriel paused, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to you.

Because I’m your mate! Because I care! Because I want you to know me and choose me!

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “You’re my friend, you’re hurting, and I want to help you.”

He said it so simply, so nonchalantly and it stunned you that someone could be this kind.

He watched you stare at him in awe, he thought you looked beautiful like this, your subtle glow illuminating the dim tent. He basked in your presence and attention, he hadn’t slept yet, but this restored him. Azriel was ready for anything life would throw at him.

***

You had trained with weapons and magic for decades. You had spent hundreds of hours reading about politics and observing the art of diplomacy for years. All of this was done to prepare you for your role in Dawn Court, but nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of war. Thesan and Callon watched you like a hawk, your strange behavior wasn’t lost on either of them. Even the Palace staff were keeping an eye on you.

A month had passed, and everything felt different and dull. You had watched your soldiers and friends die.

2,398.

That’s how many Peregryns died, the dead foot soldiers were a number you didn’t want to think about. You made sure each family had sizable monetary compensation, but no amount of money could ever bring their loved one back. There was nothing you could do but at least make it financially easier for them.

You went to visit Wyla’s family to deliver the money yourself and to talk to them about Wyla. Callon begged you not to go since it was his job, but you felt like you owed it to her, she was your friend and one of the best warriors. He was afraid they’d hate you, but in reality, it was the exact opposite. Her family practically worshipped you; they told you how honored Wyla was to be able to work alongside Dawn Court’s royalty. While devastated their daughter died, they were proud of her contribution to the safety of Prythian. Their loyalty to you and Thesan was unwavering.

The moment you stepped out of their house, you winnowed to your secret spot in the mountains where no one would find you. You wished you listened to Callon, you sobbed until you couldn't breathe, and tears ran out. It would have been easier if her family hated and blamed you for their daughter's death because that’s how you felt. If you had been faster, stronger, and more powerful, Wyla and so many others would be alive.

You didn’t even realize, but you had emitted that poison bronze fog again, it hung over you in the air slowly dissipating in the wind. Tentatively, you waved your hand through the fog, there was a chance it would’ve poisoned you, but you shrugged it off. The poison was your essence, you were its master.

While sitting at your desk doing paperwork, you would swear you heard the clang of a sword hitting a shield. Sometimes you could still smell the sharp coppery scent of blood, but it was never there, only in your head. Thesan and Callon seemed to have moved on faster than you did, they weren’t moping around like you were. You couldn’t understand how they acted like nothing had changed.

Your bones were back to their original strength, you were now able to run and train just like you used to. The fear of being ambushed or being thrown into a war was always with you. You slept with a dagger under your pillow and hid weapons in various spots in your room and office. It was a shock to find out that the Palace had no hidden weapons so you installed them and insisted that you, the trusted guards, and Thesan should know where they were located.

Your wings and back had finally healed but the damage was done, neither you nor Thesan could get rid of the scars. Some feathers on the left wing grew back sparse and jagged but that wasn’t too big of a deal, you’d have to adjust how you flew. The thing is… you have yet to fly. In secret, you had tried to launch off your balcony, you were able to take off ten feet into the air until shooting pain shot out from the middle of your back and you crashed and landed on your hands. You fractured your right wrist which you hastily healed before anyone could walk in to ask what the noise was about.

After that incident, you magically hid your wings and refused to let them unfurl. You couldn’t fathom the idea of never being able to fly so you chose to avoid the subject. Callon asked you why your wings were hidden the next day, and you got irritable and snapped at him. You left the poor male trembling and at a loss for words.

If you weren’t doing your duties, you were in your room, you didn’t even venture out to the courtyards. The owner of your favorite tavern even visited the Palace to come and check on you. Things that used to bring you joy no longer did anything to your mood. You didn’t have much of an appetite, you only ate what was enough to maintain your muscle mass, and things like cookies and pastries didn’t appeal to you anymore. Which meant your body had become sinewy and haggard, with dark circles under your eyes because you couldn’t sleep. Everything tasted bland and fae wine did nothing for you.

Thesan didn’t think he’d seen you genuinely smile since before the last battle, you were always staring off into the distance thinking about something. Thesan asked you but you always changed the subject, or you simply refused to answer him. You were secretive about your thoughts because you were angry.

The only reason the Attor had gotten to you was because you were distracted by Azriel. You and his High Lord gave him strict orders not to fly and fight and what was he doing? Doing both fucking things you had asked him not to do. The past few weeks, you’ve had a lot of time to think about your relationship with Azriel. Why did you care so much? How could he be so foolish? His injured wings were what slowed him down, allowing him to get surrounded by Hybern soldiers.

Viviane, Feyre, Azriel, and to your dismay, Tarquin had been sending you letters asking how you were doing. Your responses were always short and cordial, and after two months had passed, they asked if they could visit you, but you always declined. Thesan assigned you more tasks hoping it would get you out of your funk, but it only ended in you making multiple mistakes. Your cousin had enough, he was watching you turn into a shell of a fae, and he couldn’t let you slip further away.

One morning, he entered your room and found you on your balcony wistfully looking up at the clouds.

“Why don’t you go flying anymore?”

Your head slightly turned to him, the scarred side making an appearance before disappearing.

Thesan sighed heavily as leaned against the marble balcony rail. “I want you to get away from Dawn Court and have a break.”

Your head snapped at him. “What? I can’t leave, you need me! There’s so much work to do!”

He shook his head. “You walk around the Palace like a ghost. You barely eat or talk to us, and honestly, you’ve been a shit second. I have to fix every mistake you make. I think you need to get away for a little bit, I shouldn’t have put you to work right away.”

You glared at Thesan as silver tears shimmered in your eyes, his words felt like a slap to the face. Despite the nightmares, and your inability to fly, you were doing your duty and now he tells you you’ve been doing a horrible job? You knew something wasn’t right with you, but you didn’t think it was that big of a problem.

Before you could protest, Thesan spoke with such authority there was no way you could disobey him. “I’ve written to Rhysand, and he’d be happy to have you visit Velaris for a while. Rhysand and Feyre are coming after lunch to pick you up.”

Panic ran through you as you thought of the hazel-eyed Illyrian. “You could’ve written to Kallias and Viviane!”

“They’re too busy to deal with your dramatics. You’re going to Night Court today to rest and heal properly. That’s an order,” said Thesan with finality.

“What the fuck, Thesan. You could’ve talked to me about my work.”

Thesan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, Y/n.”

Your brows furrowed, the last several weeks have been a monotonous blur. You didn’t have the energy to fight with Thesan, so you simply nodded before heading to your closet to pack. Thesan looked at your retreating figure and thanked the Mother you complied with his request.

Yes, he wrote to Rhysand, but you didn’t know he and Rhysand had a confidential meeting late at night when you were sleeping. Rhysand didn’t need to see you to know something was wrong, your aura was the first thing he felt, your magic radiating from across the Palace. It was stronger than ever, and it was sharp and bitter which made Rhysand give Thesan a concerned look.

***

The small duffel bag by your feet was filled with a variety of clothes, you had no idea how long you were going to stay in Velaris, so you packed the essentials and some extras. There were a couple of daggers hidden in there as well and if they took those from you, you always had a stash in a pocket realm, that’s where you kept Deception most days.

You were standing with your arms crossed in the foyer with Thesan and Callon, you were still outraged at Thesan for kicking you out, but you think you understood why. The clock in the other room struck 3 o’clock and then Feyre and Rhysand appeared out of thin air. You straighten up and give the High Lord and Lady a quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Feyre floated to you and wrapped her arms around your figure, her eyes wide as she looked at Thesan and Callon in alarm.

It’s only been two months since we last saw her, she looks so different! Said Feyre as she telepathically spoke to the three males in the room.

Thesan nodded grimly as Callon looked down at his shoes, he wished he could’ve helped more.

Putting her hands on your shoulders, Feyre smiled at you. “It’s nice to see you again my friend, I’m excited to show you around Velaris.”

Rhysand stepped forward to kiss your hand before picking up your duffel bag. “You’ll love it there; everyone is excited to see you.”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you,” you murmured. You could see the couple not so discreetly looking at the empty space where your wings should be.

Saying his goodbyes, Thesan pulled you into a hug and whispered. “You can come home anytime but I want you to come back when you’re truly happy.”

Your forehead creased. What the hell does that mean?

Preparing to winnow, Feyre took your hand as the High Lord and High Lady nodded to your cousin and Callon.

With a crack, you were suddenly greeted with a cold burst of air. They had winnowed you to the base of a mountain and if you craned your head, you could see a manor that was built into the mountain rock. Looking around, your gaze landed on the glowing nearby city, it was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, something took your breath away.

Rhysand was holding out a coat for you and you gladly took it, it was much colder here in winter than it was in Dawn. By its scent, the jacket belonged to Feyre so you thanked both of them.

Your eyes fleet around, for some reason you were expecting Azriel to be here to greet you. Rhys and Feyre bit back a smile when they saw you looking.

Clearing his throat, Rhysand extended his arms. “Welcome to Velaris, my friend. The house up there is called the House of Wind and that is where you’ll be staying. Normally, we would’ve set you up at the Town House since it’s in the city center but part of it is getting renovated. This house is guarded against winnowing, so you’ll have to fly up there.” Rhysand grimaced as soon as he said it. He glanced at you to see if you were upset but you just nodded blankly.

“If you ever want to head down and visit the city or go wherever, lower your mental shield, and call for me or Feyre at any time of the day. We’ll send someone to come and pick you up,” said Rhysand. “There is a way to go down but it’s 10,000 steps, I would recommend you fetch one of us.”

Feyre was mortified. It was such bad timing for the townhouse to be renovated. “You really can call on us any time,” she insisted. “We’re your friends and we want you to feel at home.”

With you secure in Rhysand’s arms, he shot up to the sky and you closed your eyes, relishing the wind blowing through your hair. He landed on a balcony with a thud and told you to have a look around as he went back down to pick up Feyre and your duffel bag. Feyre could’ve flown up herself, but she wasn’t going to rub her wings and flying in your face.

Rhysand and Feyre took you on a grand tour of the house, the only people here were the handmaidens Nuala and Cerridwen who greeted you kindly and with curiosity. They’ve heard about your unique ability to detect shadows.

The High Lord and Lady showed you the dining room, kitchen, library, outdoor throne room, and the fully equipped training ring atop the house. Lastly, they bring you to the door of your room at the end of the corridor. They don’t tell you that the room opposite yours was Azriel’s, Rhysand was trying not to snicker which made Feyre whack the back of his head when you weren’t looking.

They left you to settle down and unpack and, in a few hours, Nuala would come and fetch you for dinner. Now that you were alone, you slumped into a cushioned chair and stared at the city lights through the window. There was so much to think about, you couldn’t believe Thesan sent you here. Were you that useless that Thesan sent his powerful second-in-command away?

You were admiring the view when a clink made you snap your head toward the table next to you. There sat a steaming cup of tea, the china made of fine porcelain, and the flowers printed on it were reminiscent of the flowers that grew around Dawn’s Palace. Waving a hand over it, you deemed it a normal cup of tea with no trace of poison. Taking the mysterious cup in your hands, you settled back into your chair and sipped on the delicious spices that filled you with warmth.

Nuala knocked on your door and informed you that dinner would be served in 15 minutes. Startled, you looked out the window and saw that time had passed with you barely registering it. You were too engrossed with a book about the Night Court that had materialized on your lap. You quickly changed into simple silk trousers and a thin form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Unsure of what to do with your hair, you hastily twisted it into an updo.

You used the scent of cooking food to help you navigate the halls and when you arrived, you see Rhysand standing by the Fireplace with a glass of wine in his hand.

“Rhysand- “

“Call me Rhys,” he said with a friendly smile. You were going to be his sister one day, and he wanted you to be comfortable.

“Rhys… I wanted to thank you for allowing me into your home. I- uh, don’t really know what’s going on with me,” you looked up at Rhysand embarrassed at your admission. “I just don’t want to impose, I’m sure you’re all very busy and I’d be happy to help if you ever need anything.”

Amusement glowed in Rhysand’s eyes, he never thought he’d see the day the terrifying Golden Warrior would stumble on her words. “You are here to take some time off from work. I should be the one thanking you, you saved Cassian’s life and saved Azriel’s wings and without your magic, Prythian would have fallen.”

“He’s right, I don’t think any of us would be here without you.” said a feminine voice. Mor was standing by the doorway and made her way to embrace you. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

Mor’s arrival opened the floodgates because everyone walked in at the same time. They were shocked at how different you looked. You used to be ethereal, a soft golden glow always emitting from under your skin. The beautiful large white and gold-tipped wings were something they were used to seeing, and now it was gone.

Cassian came barreling toward you and picked you up and spun you around. Nesta, who fondly rolled her eyes at Cassian came to say hello, her general attitude and happiness were much better now than when you last saw her. She waved Elain over and properly introduced the middle Archeron sister to you. Elain gave you a small curtsy and timid smile. She saw what you did at the battle with Hybern and was both terrified and in awe.

Amren greets you and you are surprised to see Varian in tow. You should have expected to see him here since the last time you saw him, his tongue was shoved down Amren’s throat in the war tent. He hugged you, trying not to act so concerned and shocked at your appearance. Varian had liked you since the day you winnowed into Summer Court, you were a breath of fresh air, something he, Tarquin, and Cressida needed.

Dinner was still being prepared so everyone was milling around between the dining room, sitting room, and balcony. Feyre had hooked her arm around yours and was chatting about anything and everything as you walked from person to person. A familiar handsome red-headed male entered the room.

“This is Lucien Vanserra,” said Feyre. “He helped us get help from the Continent; he was also Nuan’s informant for the faebane compound.”

Lucien bows, takes your hand, and kisses the top. “Nice to meet you, my lady.”

You gave him a pleasant smile as you dipped your head, if Nuan liked him, you knew you would too. He tells you how Nuan helped him tinker something for his eye and you find yourself feeling immensely proud of your mutual friend. Lucien gets called over by Mor and when he leaves, you feel Feyre throw up a sound glamour.

“Lucien and Elain are mates, but Elain wants nothing to do with him. I felt like you needed to know because it will get awkward and uncomfortable. It’s best I warned you because you’ll be staying here,” said Feyre in one breath.

You quickly try to get rid of the shocked look on your face. “Understood.”

The glamour goes down and you discreetly peered at Elain, you guessed you weren’t the only one who didn’t want a mate. You remembered Elain staring up at Azriel with her doe-eyes. Did she want Azriel instead of Lucien? The very thought made you frown. Looking around, you realize that the shadowsinger was nowhere to be found. Your eyes darted around the room for any sign of his shadows but there was nothing.

A faint boom in the atmosphere made your eyes snap into the night sky.

What the hell was that?

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other and grinned, that was the sound of an Illyrian flying fast. A shadowy form shoots down onto the balcony, its impact shaking the mountain, the floor beneath your feet vibrating. The shadows dispersed and there stood Azriel’s tall menacing figure, his intimidating gaze searching the crowd, and only softening when they landed on you.

a/n: this was so fun to write! What do you like and not like about the characters? I wanna hear your frustrations lmaoo.

taglist ❤️: @inloveallthetime

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

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Ways to add simple little details to Prythian in your stories!

For the Autumn Court this one is basic and many people use it: Males gift their fiancées, wives, mates fox kits as a symbol of their love and good luck with the relationship. To make it sadder, Beron never did this for Lady A, so when Eris found out about this tradition he got his mom one!

For the Dawn Court: Like how the night court Illyrians put the women down, what if the Dawn Court was the opposite and the Peregryn females would put the males down. In the real world male birds are held to a high standard for breeding, I feel like Peregryn instincts would cause this and it just gives more to a story than the females constantly being the abused. Also they’re stomach/side sleepers. I talk more about this below with the night court just to not repeat myself.

Day Court is full of bastards. You can NOT convince me that it isn’t. Helion is laying the fucking pipe like he’s discovered oil. And the reason I feel this is because of @florencemtrash ‘s story “The Shadow and the Inkbird” (also it’s really good go read it if you haven’t) where the MFC is Helions bastard, and meets Lucien and instantly realizes that they’re halfsiblings. And I was like ya know the Day Court is probably like Game of Thrones Dorne. Dorne is know for their bastards almost every persons name in that city is ‘Sand’ because they’re all bastards basically. So I just KNOW that Helion probably has other kids than just Lucien. And everyone in that court is fucking.

Summer Court has mermaids. It’s basic, it’s simple and it’s true. There’s mermaids.

Night Court, listen we already now a lot about the Nigh Court but this pertains to Illyrian’s so I feel it’s different. They’re stomach/side sleepers. They are. You can’t tell me that two massive wing sticking out of your back would allow you to lay on your back. It can’t be comfortable. Like have you ever tried sleeping with like a ponytail/claw clip in? It ain’t nice. Now imagine it with two that sit right beside your shoulder blades and the clips are like 3ft long? Idk how long the base would be but like probably pretty fucking long to allow actual flight capabilities. Also when they sleep on their side they just have their wings straight out, now like laying on one and the other out. They’ve got big ass beds for a reason spread out. (Cassian fully takes up a bed like star fish style just on his stomach. Nesta is sick of it.)

Spring Court, during the Spring Equinox the High Lord chooses someone to dress up and hand out spring gifts to family’s (usually kids). When Tamlin became High Lord he appointed himself to do so. During this time Tamlin also gives many of the less fortunate families something they can later use for the Tithe.

Winter Court puts on a celebration for the children called Three Kings Day. Family’s with children are welcomed to the castle(? Do they have castles…?) and the bakers leave a cake outside the doors of the family, inside the cakes (this is a real thing from Puerto Rico/France/Spain too btw, the cake is called la galette des rois (Kings Cake)) are toys/coins. Whichever children find them get to wear a crown for the day and called Kings/Queens (Kallias started the tradition that all kids get to do this, he’s a softy).

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