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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

Text

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel wished that you’d wake up in time for Starfall, that you’d be home to see the souls cross the sky. The war against Hybern had wrecked you, and he couldn’t bear to be away from you for another moment.

Warnings - angst, sad boy Azriel, mentions of death and blood, some self loathing, but a beautiful happy ending for our Shadowsinger 🤍

They'd won.

But none of it meant anything if you weren't there with them.

Hybern had been defeated, they had won the impossible battle thanks to you, thanks to your skill, your power, and that shattering determination to find the upper hand your family so desperately needed.

You had disappeared without a word just after the High Lords meeting, after realising that the forces you needed lay beyond the capabilities of armies and blind hope. Azriel knew better than to stop you, he traced the line of your jaw as he kissed you for what could have been the last time. He savoured the taste of your lips, your scent, that smile that had the power to command the attention of anyone or anything.

There were no words that any of them could say the moment they saw you on the battlefield, you stood above them clad in your leathers wearing a sadistic grin as Bryaxis and the Weaver stalked from behind you whilst they all waited to meet their fate.

Azriel puffed his chest out with pride, glancing to Cassian with a smirk. That's my girl.

You were a formidable force, bending the elements around you like it was your mother tongue, sending spears of fire and ice through the chests of whoever opposed you, allowing the ground to swallow whole groups of soldiers as you passed by. Your sword was an extension of your soul, a cunningly beautiful thing, curved and sharp, and coated in the blood of your enemies which had also splashed across your cheeks.

His shadows were in awe of you, a horribly fierce awe as they watched you cut down man after man, paying little mind to anything else other than making sure that Feyre and Amren reached the cauldron.

That wretched thing.

The cauldron had broken. Feyre needed to put it back together. Feyre needed the power to put it back together.

Azriel watched as you tackled Rhys to the ground, as you threw up a shield around yourself and Feyre so that she had no choice but to use you. To take everything you had to stop the world from crumbling into dust.

Feyre had wept and screamed as she held you in her arms, her fingers pushing the hair from your face as she rocked back and forth, begging your soul to return to your body. Azriel fell to your side and pulled you from Feyre's gasp, his shadows flittered anxiously over your face and body whilst their master pressed his lips to your eyes, pleading the High Lords around him to do what they did for Feyre, to bring you back to him.

Each High Lord offered a kernel of their power, even Feyre had thrown in her own in hope it would made a difference.

Rhys had held him tightly as your soul returned to your body, his sobs wracked his chest when your own began to rise and fall in a healthy rhythm. You didn't wake though.

After days of Madja fussing over you, she had exhausted all of her options. You were warm, your heartbeat was strong and your lungs were functioning as they should be, there was no reason why you shouldn't have been awake and telling Azriel how much you loved him.

He had refused to leave you, his shadows less willing to do so, they loved you so dearly to the point you often found a couple of rogue shadows perching on your own shoulder instead of your mates. Deep circles clung to his hazel eyes that were dark and dreary, he hadn't eaten, he just sat beside your cot and held your hand, noting how peaceful you looked in your eternal slumber.

Much to his rage, it had been decided that Helion would transport you to the Day Court with the promise that his army of healers and researchers would find a way to bring you back. Rhys had agreed, willing to try anything to bring you back to your family, and had to order Azriel to stay away from you whilst Helion gave it his best shot. They couldn't have a grief stricken Illyrian forbidding anyone to touch you.

Velaris felt empty without you. The bakeries were far too full and the children too quiet. The Sidra begged for your fingers to run through her ripples, to caress her with that power that complimented her own so perfectly.

The world just felt darker without you annoying them, prodding Cassian with stupid jokes or dragging Mor dress shopping, even Amren was missing your feet propped on her lap whilst she tried to research, and Nesta yearned for your intelligent observations on the plot holes and desires for the books you shared.

Feyre had become a shell, busying herself with preparations for Starfall so that she would forget how guilty she felt for a moment.

Starfall was your favourite thing in the world, nothing bar Azriel could bring so much joy to you. The music, beautiful outfits and food were just minor aspects in comparison to the main event, when those stars would hurtle across the sky and illuminate it with that hot white glow.

Azriel had always found himself stood behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist and chin resting atop your head as you both watched in awe. It never ceased to amaze either of you.

This year was different. No amount of flowers or pastries could distract anyone from the fact that you weren't there. He should have stopped you, gotten to you quicker before you could attack Rhys and take his place; you should have just let Rhys give his power, he would have recovered quicker, everything would have been fine.

Mor had tried to get Azriel to dance, but he didn't want to dance with anyone who wasn't you. All he wanted to do was go back to your shared room and wrap himself in your scent so he could dream of you, the only place you were alive and chatting idly about some random fact you'd found in a book that sent your mind spiralling into balanced wonder.

"She wouldn't want you to stand on the side lines, Az," Cassian clapped his shoulder, trying to coax his brother to partake in something this Starfall, for you.

Gasps echoed about the room, a sign that the main event had begun. Usually, you'd be jumping up and down in your spot with excitement, clutching to his fingers as you dragged him from the room and out to the private balcony you had both made yours.

Males and females floated out of the arched doorways, but Azriel stayed behind, not being able to think of witnessing a single Starfall without you.

Burying his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants, Azriel moved in the opposite direction to the enthralled crowd, not being able to stomach even pretending to be happy. With no particular place in mind, Azriel walked, down winding hallways and up a set of steps, along the arched walls until he fell into place in front of a set of familiar doors.

Doors that you had practically torn the handles from one year from the sheer uncontrollable excitement to get outside before either of you missed it.

Azriel sighed, wiping the corners of his eyes, he sniffled softly as he took the handle in his scarred fingers, feeling electricity pouring through it, so intense that he had to pull away with a frown. He stood there for a moment, unsure and bewildered by the sensation.

Then he felt it.

He felt the familiar scent flood where he stood, the shadows reacted quickly, darting to the handle and dancing over the door, fighting for it to be opened.

It couldn't be. Helion would have told them if you had awoken.

It couldn't be.

Azriel flung the doors open and his shadows surged forward, there you stood, your back to him, dressed in Day Court gold with a solid gold halo encasing a full braided bun. The shadows reached you first and you giggled as they kissed every inch of your face, and gods, did that sound have him melting into a blubbering mess.

You turned to him, your mate, and opened your arms to him, ones that he gladly stepped in to. Azriel wrapped his arms around your waist, he ran his fingers over your skin, he left lingering kisses in the nape of your neck and along your shoulder.

"You're home," he strained, sobs of pure happiness tugging at his throat as he pulled away from you, looking down into those eyes he adored too much.

You moved a piece of his hair away from those pools of brown and green, closing the gap between you as the sky came to life, allowing your love to explode around you whilst the world above and below held a calm breath.

"I couldn't full well miss my favourite night of the year, could I?"

Azriel pressed his forehead to yours, stared into your eyes and drank in every single part of you, his fingers not once moving from your body, "You came back to me."

"I'll always come back to you, Az. Always."

Authors Note

I needed something fluffy after my gut wrenching Eris post before.

I'm halfway healed.

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #amren acotar #mor acotar #cassian #nesta #fluff #maasverse #shadowsinger x reader

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Text

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter /Next chapter

a/n fourteenth part! You guys we are nearing the end and this one... This one was tough. I will only be able to accept complaints via email. Enjoy! 😉🤍🫧

warning: kids, blood, torture, intoxication, drugs, dark magic, pain, deaths, Illyrian torture mmm... I'm trying to think if I haven't missed anything. Ah... wounds.

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There was one thing Azriel was certain about: he was never going to get used to the sensation of holding you. The way his body ignited. It felt as if only then all of his senses were in tune with the rest of his body. The sweetest taste of perfection filled him. This was what finally feeling whole felt like. So was he pissed off when Rhys's gentle knocking on his mental shields woke him up? Yes. Was untangling his limbs from you the hardest thing Azriel had ever done? Absolutely. Did he linger just a bit longer, slowly brushing your hair as he watched you take in breath after breath? yes. Azriel smiled to himself because this was it. This was his forever. His other half lay in his bed. Peacefully sleeping. So his. Only his.

"I'll let you punch me raw", Rhys had caught up with Azriel in no time, "But you also know I wouldn't have asked if this wasn't serious". Azriel knew his duties. He took them seriously, too. So even if his heart was bleeding for his mate, he knew his people also needed him. "Fill me in," Azriel said firmly, tightening the straps holding his knives. "Cass is finishing the last interrogations, and nothing fucking adds up." Rhys was frustrated, which was always a sign of something going extremely wrong. All he was told before Azriel had winnowed into the south side of Velaris was that the border had been breached. An attack had occurred, but the moment the soldiers were sent, it all vanished. In Azriel's 500 years of life, shit didn't just disappear. "Memories?", Azriel said as he scanned the place. Weavers were already patching up the wards, but none of them looked seriously torn apart or damaged in general. "Ink black," Rhys said and Aziel halted at the sound of it, an odd chill running through his back. "And a freezing one. I could push, but...", Rhys ran a hand through his hair. Azriel recognized that worry now. Worry for the family. A mate, children. He was in the same boat now. "You could push, but let me guess, you would fry their brains in the process," Azriel unleashed, his shadow scattering around the place. He was going to fix this. And fix this quickly. Maybe he will even be able to come back before you have woken up.

Cold. Cold. Cold. So cold. So dark. It was so painful and numb at the same time. There were hands. Cold fingers. Echoes of something familiar. How could one feel so heavy and light as a fever at the same time? It felt as if you were blinking for a moment, desperately trying to wake up, only to be plunged back into the same darkness. Someone was holding your head down as you trashed. before Your body had grown frail once more. Slumping.

"I'm telling you they came with torches; everything was on fire," the man said, and Azriel would have believed him, but he knew the farmer. Had gotten multiple reports from him about younglings messing up his sheep fence. He heard him speak before, and something deep within Azriel screamed that this man wasn't talking on his behalf. "Look, if you got the whole village in on this because of that damn fence..." Cassian huffed; he too was losing his patience. Nesta was pregnant. Nothing had been confirmed, but Azriel could smell it on Cass, and so could Rhys; the two had shared a look but chosen to not test Cassian's boundaries. The man was desperate for her. Out of the three of them, Cassian was the one whose patient was extremely thin today. Not to mention the heightened need to protect that coursed through his body.

Azrie shot his brother a look before motioning for the door. Cassian was halfway through the door when the man spoke again, "What fence?" There was a glimmer of relief in the man's eyes before it all glazed over again, and this time that same odd tone was back: "Torches all of them." Azriel turned to Rhys, whose face bore the same realization. They were all under something. Herbs. Magic. Mother only knew.

"Billy, your goat. How is he doing?", the man practically seized at Azriel's voice. "Bill...", the male breathed. "Yeah, one who chewed up your farm shoes," Azriel continued, the same glistening light running through the male's eyes. As if he was clawing at himself from within. It was as if someone was barging to be let out. But it was Rhys who delivered the last blow. "What about your wife? Huh, how's she been doing? She's still knitting you scarves." The male coughed, clawing at his neck. Panic set in as he moved towards the door, but Cassian was still standing there, his broad shoulders blocking any chance at escaping. "Billy and your wife, how are they?", Cass said it in a demanding tone. The man stilled, and then, thick like lava, liquid trickled down his nose.

"Rhys...", Cassian growled. The male staggered back slightly but gained his stance pretty quickly. And the terror that set in now was of a new kind. "My lord...", he breathed out, pulling his hat off his head, only then reaching to feel the dampness on his lip. Dread pooled in Azriel's stomach. "Fuck," the high lord breathed, "This is set up." Rhys's darkness swallowed the place as he winnowed. Azriel reached for the older male and said, "Go home; I'll be back, but you have nothing to worry about." With that, he snatched Cassian's hand as they both winnowed.

It was the cold that seeped into you that had pulled your eyes open. Your fingers grazed the surface beneath you. They felt numb as if they no longer belonged to you, but enough to still somewhat identify your surroundings. The surface you were lying on was damp. That would explain the sounds of droplets hitting the puddles somewhere. You tried to dig into your mind. Tried to think. Where were you? What was happening? You forced your eyes to fully open. A gray stone was what greeted you. You frowned instantly. Nothing seemed to add up. It was sniffling that you picked up on next. But the moment you turned your head to the side, you were met with something you thought you would never see again.

"No", your voice was barely a whimper. "No", you tried to pull yourself up, crawling towards the painfully familiar bars. You didn't feel a single ounce of magic within yourself. It was as if it had all fizzled out. But this couldn't be true. Absolutely couldn't. You have escaped. You... your hands touched the bars as you pulled yourself up. And for a heartbeat, you wished you hadn't.

In the cell opposite of yours lay two figures that clawed through every bit of sedative running through your system. "Zofie, Axel...", the words were barely a whisper as your knees threatened to buck any minute. "Zo, Ax," you breathed louder, trying to move the cell doors, but for nothing. It all came rushing back then. The strange vision. The dinner prep. Elain. Your thoughts halted - Azriel. Your hand rested on your chest. You couldn't feel him. You couldn't... "No," you breathed. He couldn't be dead. You wouldn't be standing here if he was. Your eyes darted back toward the kids. Zofie was pale. Too pale. Axel's wings were bent awkwardly. They couldn't be. They couldn't... It was enough for the thought to simply swirl there and within seconds you were turning to the side as bile rose in your throat.

No matter how much panic Azriel felt coming from both Rhys and Cassian, he refused to let it settle in. You were fine. You had to be. They were all just panicked. Nothing like that has happened since Amarantha. So it was more than understandable that everyone would be ticked off. Azriel unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt as he winnowed back to his apartment. Rhys was meeting him there the moment both Nesta and Feyre were in the safety of the house of wind.

Just the moment his foot hit the wood floor in his apartment, Azriel knew that something was off. The place seemed ice-cold. The burning smell filled his nose. No. No. No. Not happening. "Y/n," he called out as he stepped deeper into the place. Bile rose in Azriel's throat as his eyes scanned the kitchen. Flowers were scattered on the floor, with a smashed vase to accompany them. Fresh goods were still in the bags by the little kitchen counter. A burnt-out pot—whatever had been cooking there had turned into a chard mess. At least now he knew where the smell was coming from. Azriel's eyes fell onto the colorful drawing that now lay upon all the filth that filled the floor. A card. He hesitated. He knew whatever was in... Azriel folded the paper open. Messy's scribbled writing in two different colors greeted him.

We wanted to ask you a big question. Written with a k instead of a q, that's been crossed out and corrected. Azriel wanted that to warm his heart, but all it did was cause more ache. Yet nothing prepared him for the next line. Can you please be our dad? We'd love that, Zo and Ax. The world in front of Azriel shifted. His vision went out for a second. Their dad. A father figure. Azriel gripped the kitchen counter. His kids. They were already his kids. But to know that they both wanted that and that they had all of this set-out... All of this was supposed to be a surprise for him, and now...

Azriel heard rustling outside his apartment door that he only now realized was slightly ajar. "Elain?", a muffled voice that belonged to Rhys called out. Azriel crossed the distance in a couple of steps as he yanked the door open. His anger was boiling even hotter. He saw her, hiding in the corner of the hallway. That same black liquid trickled down her nose. "I couldn't. I tried", she managed to muffle between sobs, but Azriel turned away from her. "Tell Lucien that she's here. I don't need a territorial male running around causing trouble", Azriel said bluntly to Rhys.

"Azriel, please," Elain shifted, trying to reach for any part of the shadow singer she could get her hands on. "Elain, unless you have something useful to...", Azriel batted her hand away as he scowled at her. She probably didn't deserve it. It wasn't her fault that she had gotten herself under that spell, yet knowing that she was the one who had seen you last didn't sit well with Azriel. "They know you'll come; she wants that," Elain muttered, making Azriel frown. "Who?", the female shook her head, and Azriel moved to step away instantly. "A lady in white, she... I don't know, like a priestess."

And within a beat of a heart, it was all crystal clear. The threats and the unwillingness to cooperate—Rhys said it had all been done and taken care of. A new wave of anger rushed through Azriel as he reached for Rhys's neck, bending most of his body over the sixth-floor railing. "I should have burned that place down," Azriel hissed. "Azriel," Rhys said, pushing against his brother's hold. "If my mate and my kids get hurt because you stalled, I swear on everything holy to me. You will never see me again, Rhys", and with a final shove, Azriel let go. Rhys managed to keep himself upright, but before he could turn to the spymaster, he was already gone.

The next time your eyes snapped open, you scrambled to your feet almost immediately. Reaching for the bars, you cast your gaze upon the cell opposite yours. A breath hitched in your throat. They had shifted. Axel was leaning against the wall. All you could see was his face; his wings were messily draped over his chest, he no doubt had to be holding Zofie. "Axel," you called out softly, not wanting to startle him even more. Mother knew these kids were through hell just because of you. "Sweetheart, Ax," you called out again, knees buckling as those golden eyes gazed straight at you. "Y/n," he breathed in return, trying to move closer, but you quickly shook your head.

"It's okay; stay where you are. Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?", you looked him over the best you could. The boy only shook his head. "But Zofie is cold," he muttered, pealing one of his wings to reveal a sickly pale girl with no color in her skin. You sank to the floor. "Is she...", the ringing in your ears grew louder. Axel quickly shook his head once more. "I think it's the empathy thing," he said softly. "I've been thinking all the happy thoughts, and pa-Azriel," Axel stated. Your eyes softened. "You don't have to correct yourself, Ax; you can call him your papa." You wished they hadn't taken this evening away from them. Why this one out of them all? "Will he come to get us?", there was doubt in the boy's tone, but you met his eyes with your blazing gaze. "He will. He will always come for us. No matter where we end up, Azriel will always find a way to bring us back home. You want to know why?", you asked him, and Axel instantly nodded, "Because he loves us, and we love him."

Azriel's shadows were swirling all around the sanctuary as he watched from the mountain peaks. He knew that you were there. The last bits of mating bond practically screamed at him while he ran over ways he was going to slather everyone stupid enough to get in his way. He gritted his teeth together.

"You know... I was never afraid of your darkness," you had muted to him as you two had laid in bed together. Your hand was extended up in the air as his shadows swirled all around, tattering your skin with kisses. "You should be; most are," Azriel breathed. "Why would I? It's a part of you, and it's beautiful to me." Azriel had shifted slightly from the words—loving you is the easiest thing I have to do in my life, he had thought but he didn't say it. too afraid that it was all moving too fast. too afraid to scare you away. And now, more than ever, Azriel wished he would have spoken those words. Would have told you about the house on the very side of Velaris. He had bought it decades ago for his family. For his mate and for his kids. And he had just that—all of it—but it was slipping past his fingers.

A handful of papers slapped against Azriel's chest as Rhys winnowed right in front of him. "Padme wants you apart because you two were a profit in some ancient scroll," Azriel snatched the report, taking his eyes off the building just for a heartbeat so he could look it over. "You two are the opposite of the spectrum; your union can... You'd become more powerful than most high lords", Rhys said firmly, knowing that at any moment the words he spoke could be his last, " So this whole thing could be set up by one or multiple of the other high lords, or someone desperate to save the world".

Azriel had to give Rhys credit. The stuff he pulled out in such a short time was impressive, and it would explain the level of magic used to possess others. But if he could do it in such a short time, he could have given him the papers with this information weeks ago. As if reading his mind, Rhys spoke, "Let us help you get her and the kids back, and then you're free to step away from your position as my spymaster." The words drilled holes in Azriel's already bleeding heart, "I should have taken action sooner. I failed you and your family." Azriel lifted his hand, silencing his high lord. "Two entrances are unguarded. Your job is to get the kids and take them away from that place", the cold tone Azriel used felt wrong, but he couldn't do this now. Azriel's priorities no longer lay with Rhys. No longer lay with his court.

You were humming an old Illyrian lullaby when the doors to the dungeon creaked open and in strolled Padme, accompanied by at least four guards. "I hope you're enjoying your fantasy now," she said with that same cold smile on her lips. "You bitch," you spat her way, throwing all of your weight at the iron bars. "Pick your words wisely, child. I have power over you", she said, standing right in front of you now, looking you over as if you were nothing more than a speck of dirt beneath her shoes. "I trusted you," you said through gritted teeth, "You said...", "That I cared? That I will keep you safe," Padme cut you off, "The same thing your supposed lover is saying to you now. Look where my love brought you; want to see where he will take you?" She stepped over so quickly you didn't even notice when her claws had dug in the hack of your scalp, that same demonic face flashing right in front of you.

Then flames erupted all around you. All of the Velaris was up in flames. Houses falling. People were trying to crawl from beneath the debris. You ran forward, trying to help a woman free her leg, but the moment you approached, she screamed out in panic, trying to move away from you. You shook your head. "Do you want this?", Padme's voice rang all around you. "You are going to be so selfish and end so many lives just because you think someone can finally love you," her laugh echoed, chipping even more of your already frozen-over heart. "I kept you safe. It is I who truly knows how to love a creature like you". Your head fell back as the priestess pulled her blood-coated nails away from you, licking the very tips, "You always belonged with me." Your eyes locked on her dark orbs. You've never seen them in their true colors before.

"That's a lie! Azriel loves us; we're a family," Axel's voice rang out, making you blink, "Tell her, YN, we'll always be together." Padme turned to the boy, yanking the cell door open as she stepped in. "No," you breathed out, reaching for them. "Say that again, boy," her hand wrapped around his neck as she lifted him from the ground, Zofie's frail body slipping out of his hand, awkwardly filling the cold floor. "No, Padme, let him go," you pleaded. You were not letting them go through the same torture you had already endured. "He loves her," Axel said firmly, even if he was slowly losing oxygen. "I'll do whatever you want, but you have to promise you will not hurt them, Pad," you said so quickly that you could barely make out your own words.

The priestess's head turned toward you, a vicious smile spreading across her face. "Return them safely to Azriel, and I will do whatever you want," you pleaded. Padem simply let go of Axel. "Very well," she said happily. "I'll drop them off at that old lady's house," You nodded along with her words. Cordelia will look after them for now. She'll explain it all to them. Take good care of Zofie until she can once again lay in Azriel's arms. "But you, my dear," Padme mustered, "You owe me your heart, especially the part of it that belongs to the shadowsinger." Your vision blurred as her words settled in. A part. There wasn't just a part. All of it was Azriel's. You had given it to him that night outside his mother's house. He had it ever since.

Azriel had his finger pressed to his lips as he once again came into contact with a small group of terrified females, slowly gesturing for them to exit the place. Knowing well that Rhys would guide them out of the building. One of them had already told them how to get to the lower floors of the sanctuary. Azriel would find you. He'll take you home. He rounded the familiar corner. He was trying to be as quiet as he possibly could. It was strange to think that he had lived here for a bit. He had met his other missing part between these walls, which made him nothing but sick now.

Down the corridor. Into the main communal hall, and then right on the left corner, Azriel stopped. There was no way. No, there was no way this couldn't be it. His eyes instantly darted up, looking for anyone planning an attack from up above, but he saw no one, and his shadows sensed nothing.

"Y/n," he breathed out, and you instantly turned around. Your dress was dirty and damp, and there was blood running down the back of your neck, mixing in with your light hair. Blood. Azriel crossed the distance between the two of you in a couple of steps. "Why are you here? Did you kill her?", he carefully cupped your face as he looked you over. Your lip trembled. "Love," Azriel breathed. "The kids are at your mother's. I got them out, but you need to leave," the last word was choked out, and you quickly covered your mouth. Trying to fight your emotions. Azriel pulled at your hand, but you quickly pulled back. "You need to leave me behind," you whispered. "That will never happen," the spymaster said firmly.

"Azriel, I will lose control again. I will burn the city down. I saw it", you shook your head, trying to chase the images away. "I will burn it for you if you give up on us," Azriel said harshly, but his touch still stayed nothing but soft.

"I'm not giving up on us," you whispered so quietly. You promised to push him away. Make him leave you so the kids will be safe. Be safe with him. They didn't need you. But you couldn't lie to him. You'll make him leave you behind in some other way. But Azriel cupped your face with both hands and said, "I waited for you my whole life. You are everything I ever wanted and more. I can only breathe when I'm with you, Y/n. You are my everything. If you are not with me, I don't want to live." His honest words pulled a light sob from your lips. "Azriel, I...", you breathed right as an arrow pierced Azriel's shoulder. The spymaster hissed as he turned back, trying to find the source of the attack.

"No," you shouted, but Azriel was already shielding you while an arrow after an arrow pierced his skin and wings. A roar slipped past his lips, but he stood unmoving, using his body like a shield. "No, let me," you breathed out as you tried to pull him away but... The room died down quickly, and you watched as Azriel slowly sank to his knees.

"Azriel," you followed suit, cupping his face in your hands. His lips were tinted red. No, they couldn't be. No, this couldn't be happening. Azriel moved one of his hands up as he grasped your forearm firmly. "You belong to no one," he said, pausing to take a breath between each word, "Don't let them control you any longer." His grip loosened, and his hazy eyes only focused on you. "No, Az. Azriel! Look at me, Azriel", you bagged, tapping his face lightly, trying to keep him awake.

"And so the story ends," Padme said, moving from behind one of the columns with a pleased smile on her lips. "What did you do? What did you do?", you shouted at her. "I saved the world, child," she said, raising her hands in delight. Her laughter filled the space, but your eyes were already back on your mate. "Azriel, look at me," you pressed your hands against him, trying to flicker at least some of your magic on, but you couldn't seem to get a hold of it. The spymaster smiled slightly, grasping your hand in his. "I'll see you on the other side," he muttered. You choked out a cry. "No, no, you will not," you said angrily. "Azriel," his name was like a prayer on your lips. You felt the last bits of the bond slowly flicker out as an overwhelming pain crawled all over you. Time slowed as you watched Azriel's eyes slowly droop.

But then your deathly glare rose to meet Padme's satisfied gaze. "What did you do?", the scream ripped through. Ignited even more by the pain of feeling Azriel slipping away, the cry seemed never-ending. You heard glass breaking. The cracking of the chipping stone. You saw nothing but white rage. Pulling one of the arrows out of Azriel's body, you pointed it at Padem. "I will be your worst nightmare," you said through gritted teeth. Your body didn't feel like your own as you logged the arrow. And it hit Padme straight in her heart with the speed you'd never thought you could muster.

That same itching feeling in your throat started once more. The same one you felt when they ripped your wings off. The sanctuary was slowly falling apart. The females rushed to get out, but you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore as you pulled Azriel's head over your lap. There was so much blood everywhere. Too much blood. The tears fell freely down your face in a never-ending stream.

You moved your hands over Azriel's heart, watching as your hands disappeared within the light you possessed. But it didn't seem to work. "Y/n," you heard Rhys's shaky voice. "Get out," you barked out. The high lord still tried to step closer, but you hissed at him, "Get out, Rhys, and take the ones you can with you." You felt the last bits of your self-control failing. He only held your gaze for a moment before he winnowed away.

A sob slipped past your lips as you cupped Azriel's face, leaning over to kiss his cold lips. Time slowed once more. The static felt unbearable. One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four. And it all erupts with a sob like no other. You felt blood trickling down your ears as all of your being clawed at your fragile body. The light was blinding. So was the warmth that followed it. It felt like forever. The sizzling of your skin eased as the snow slowly fell upon you two. You blinked a couple of times. Pouring whatever was left into Azriel until your hands slipped off his chest and your body sagged on top of his.

The first thing he felt was coldness. Then the snowflakes fell on his face. His body also felt heavy. Like it had never felt before. The gray sky was all around him as he opened his eyes. His mind felt numb. For a moment, he had no idea why he was lying there in the first place. Until it all came tumbling down. One image after the other. The sanctuary. You. Arrows. Was this what the other side looked like because, shit, it was grim. Azriel shifted slightly, halting when his hand hit something. Something that was sprawled out across him.

He sat up so fast that your body rolled down to his lap. No. "Y/n," he said, wrapping his arms around your body and hissing at the coldness of it. "My love," he muttered, flexing his stiff wings. They had to be torn. Azriel turned. Not a single cut was on them. Not a single arrow was in his flesh. You've melted it away and healed him. "Love," he called out desperately, "Open your eyes." You couldn't die. He couldn't have just been here, lying unconscious, while you slowly faded from this world.

Azriel's eyes darted across the fallen sanctuary walls. Blood on the white stone. Padme's body was not far away from where you two were. Only the outskirts of the city looked burned to the ground, but there was no doubt that Rhys knew that something like this was coming. Azriel shook his head as he pressed his forehead to yours. "You promised me forever, love," he said softly, "I'm calling in my bargain now." Azriel carefully brushed his lips over yours, and the faintest of thuds echoed in your hallowed-out chest.

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc

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the-8-of-spades · 1 month

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She-Ra fics I consider canon

Hey gang! here's a list of (mostly post-canon) fics I've read over the years that are I feel are well written and in character enough that they could be canon to the show, and to an extent, each other! I put the list in order for anyone who wants to read it like a season 6 :D

Don't Go - extended version of scenes in S5E5 and S5E6. Written by ND Stevenson so is basically already canon. Angst and fluff

Daylight - picks up a day after the s5 finale. Catra & Adora begin to really understand that they're free to live a peaceful life. Tooth rotting fluff.

Pros & Cons (NSFW) - Bow and Glimmer seem joined to Adora at the hip 24/7, and Catra just wants to make out with her girlfriend. Has a couple lines that could be seen as contradictory or foreshadowing to Carry our Bodies. Mostly 3/4ths fluff, 1/4th smut.

Carry our Bodies Safe to Shore - Adora finds an old Horde incident report, and Catra has to tell Adora about the kiss that Shadow Weaver erased from her memory. Angst and fluff.

Keep on Walking, Come What Will - Adora & Catra accidentally get engaged. Pure fluff

Alternatively, Princess Prom 2.0 (One Year Later) - Adora & Catra get engaged on purpose. Pure fluff

^ honestly, I reconcile these two by head canon-ing that the "accidental engagement," happens at the impromptu princess prom and then they get too busy for a wedding and then the on purpose engagement happens at the real princess prom, because both are so well written and so in character.

Anachronism (and sequel) - Adora & Catra get traumatized again while rescuing Angella.

^ (Fic is pretty good, mostly on here because I haven't found any fit that does "rescuing Angella" better, lmk if you have any recs!). Angst and Fluff. I don't think there's any NSFW but it's a long fic and it's been a while since I read it.

If anyone has any other recommendations for this list please leave them in the replies! I would love to expand this list until I have a sixth season worth of content!! (also only one NSFW fic rn cause I mostly read fluff lol but if anyone has NSFW recs that feel canon send those as well!)

Addition 1: honorable mention for Breathing Room by ResFlower because it is almost IDENTICAL to a scene from one of the others where Catra has to break it to Adora that their fight in the Red Waste was actually Double Trouble.

#she ra spop #she ra #she ra catra #adora #she ra adora #catradora #glimbow #spop adora #post canon #she ra and the princesses of power #spop fanfic #ao3 fanfic #she ra fanfic #she ra fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 6 months

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you know…

i would have conceded that catra cares about adora at least a little bit if, in this scene, she had said something like "adora is going to die, and i can't save her".

but no, the person you supposedly love is going to sacrifice themself to save the world, and all you can worry about is yourself.

adora dying isn't the problem here, catra literally doesn't care about that. she doesn't see adora's sacrifice as a tragic thing, instead she sees it as adora "betraying and abandoning her again". she only cares about herself. she still sees it as competition between herself and shadow weaver (which is weird by the way, the phrase “choosing shadow weaver over me” just feels strange, for some reason).

not to mention, catra herself doesn't have a solution to this entire problem, literally the only person who had a solution was shadow weaver. why wouldn't adora listen to her, when none of the other characters were coming up with a better idea, least of all catra?

#it's such a stupid conflict honestly #as if this ship wasn't complicated enough #they had to throw in catra being a bitch one last time to really hammer in the fact that these two would not last a week together #spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti c//a #anticatra #antic//a #anticatradora #anti spop #anti shera

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that-ari-blogger · 4 months

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The Aftermath

The Beacon is a very... disjointed episode. It has the unfortunate placement of between two episodes that are, in my opinion, the two best that the show has to offer, and it doesn't matter how good this episode is, it suffers in the contrast.

The Beacon is trying to set up The Promise and still recovering from No Princess Left Behind, which means that it struggles to tie both together without feeling like a ton of disconnected events.

So, for the sake of analysis, let's look at those events on their own, and see what they do for the story as a whole. Because some of them are really well written.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Catra's moments in this episode are genuinely some of the best little moments for her in the series. We see her kind nature start to show, ever so slightly. She is not kind, I want to stress this, a few actions do not make a redemption (yet), but we start to plant the seeds of that here.

In Entrapta's interrogation scene, we see Catra being manipulative, that much is obvious. But it's interesting how she does it. Catra doesn't belittle, or lie, or even seem disingenuous with her compliments, she is just aware that compliments lead to allegiances, and she is trying desperately to befriend the single smartest person on Etheria.

"You're not mad? People usually get mad." "Are you kidding?"

There is an empathy here with Catra. I mentioned in the previous post that everyone's greatest strength is their greatest weakness. And the same is true for Catra. She is exceedingly emotionally attuned. She sees herself in Entrapta, as the person left behind. The side effect of this is that she falls on her sword a bit when Adora leaves, but also in a weird, other way.

"Don't worry about that thing with Hordack. I've got plenty of experience getting yelled at... you get used to it."

Catra is talking to Shadow Weaver here, of all people. Why? Because she sees a person feeling low, and offers some condolences. Without concern for who she is, or what she has done. Catra offers a hand of peace. I want to stress that empathy isn't a weakness, that's not how this works, but it makes her easy prey for Shadow Weaver, because Catra is a child, a teenager, who is naive, and Shadow Weaver is evil.

But how does Shadow Weaver return the openness that Catra has displayed?

"I will not get used to mediocrity like you"

She returns kindness with an insult, and through her touch. Shadow Weaver desires power above all else, so when she is at her weakest, she tries to grab it from the one person she thinks she can mentally overpower.

This is why Catra is the way she is, any attempt at kindness is met with animosity for reasons she has no command in. But that little influence of Adora, and now Scorpia and even Entrapta, has kept the instinct alive. The empathy is there, just buried deep under the surface.

"I just wanted to prepare you for the world"

I love that Shadow Weaver has worked out her tactics are failing on Catra, so she tries giving the Adora treatment to her, and even that fails. I think that's rather satisfying. I pity her, but it is definitely gratifying to see her this low.

Shadow Weaver fits the same bill as everyone else in the series (strengths and weaknesses being the same), but she forms a weird parallel with Bow of all people. Shadow Weaver thinks big picture, she is the strategist, and she gets undermined time and again by the tiny things, such as personal determination, and unconditional love. This parallel isn't dwelled upon, but it's a neat thing to point out that Shadow Weaver's opposite isn't Catra or Adora, but Bow.

Speaking of Bow. The man is supportive of everyone, similarly to Sea Hawk. Bow still thinks big picture, but the difference between him and Shadow Weaver is that when Bow meets a wall, instead of thinking of a way to break it down, he finds another route. Bow is a strategist of the heart, making sure everyone is at their best and ready to step in to keep people's moral up, should they need it.

I also really like Glimmer's line:

"Your sorry is wrong and mine is right."

I think this is extremely revelatory about Glimmer, but that won't come up for a while.

Finally, there is Adora.

Under stress, she reverts. This is what Shadow Weaver did to her, she gave her a few set behaviours in response to certain stimuli. Notably, when scared, punch what I tell you. Shadow Weaver isn't here to give a target, so Adora decks the first thing she can get her hands on. Namely, this light.

There are other sections in the episode when she is in the background of other shots. And instead of just standing there, and looking apathetic, she shadow boxes. Adora cannot focus when she's directionless.

So naturally, she jumps at the opportunity to heal Glimmer, including possibly stabbing her, just to feel useful. Again, preprogrammed responses. She needs to feel useful, so she will run towards whomever is offering her that purpose.

"You want me to be weak? Well (Throws Sword), I am"

This leads into the above line. Adora believes she needs to be weak, and the first thing she does to achieve that is return to her original form and throw away her sword. Adora has associated strength with ability to achieve a given task. In this case, heal.

But the fascinating thing is how she goes about the accountability of failing. She has a weird internalisation of good things being She-Ra's fault, and bad things being Adora's fault. It's awful.

I'm going to finish this on a mildly happy note, because Glimmer and Angella have a really sweet interaction in this episode. Its the reassurance that a parent figure can offer. She offers support, and affirmation that this may not have worked, but it wasn't because of Glimmer's ideals, but her methods, which can be worked on.

Compare the following two lines.

"I will not get used to mediocrity like you" "We'll figure it out, together."

I have boldened a few words, because they reveal character quite nicely. One tries to separate the speaker from its subject, complete with an insult and a comparison, the other is supportive and constructive, and strives to make the listener understand this fact. Angella is a great mum.

Final Thoughts

This episode isn't particularly memorable. Which isn't its own fault. It is sandwiched by The Promise and No Princess Left Behind, which both render it rather uninspiring.

But this episode is actually quite decent. Its moments string together cohesively enough, and Marcus Scribner (Bow's Voice Actor) kills every line.

However, that opening sequence steals the show for me, as everyone leaves on their own way. That was why Entrapta's fake out death doesn't feel cheap. It actually hurts these people, and they don't get over it. This is a death that has its cake and eats it too, and that's a difficult thing to pull off. I think the thing that sells it is this is the only scene so far in the show (I think) in which Sea Hawk stays quiet, the events of the previous episode have managed to make the bard stop singing.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...?#character analysis #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra catra #she ra adora #she ra spop #adora #catra #spop #shadow weaver #she ra #she ra princess of power #she ra bow

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anti-spop · 3 months

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"catra antis just hate complex women and woc!!"

well i like shadow weaver as a character, so... no, lmao. catra is just badly written. not to mention she's not even a woman of color lmao.

#i post #*i don't label myself anti catra but i'm very critical of her #anti stans

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smolvenger · 4 months

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Fifteen (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You and Loki return from the cabin. Stella returns back home. Thomas opens up about the identity of the Weaver's form and his history. Then the cauldron's location is at last revealed.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Smut in the beginning (dirty talk, doing it on a table, p in v sex, use of restraints via Loki's shadows), mentions of physical and sexual abuse and violence. I interpret the Thomas/Lucille relationship in Crimson Peak as non-consensual. I choose violence. Grammar and spelling mistakes that miss my radar. But some fluff.

A/N: Wanted to get this done before my play opens tomorrow. Also...if Sarah J Maas put me through it, you guys have to go through it too. Enjoy.

DICK-Tionary: Smut begins at "Let's begin what we started last night" and ends at "You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful"

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The next morning, it was another beautiful day. You both kissed each other good morning. Holding each other as the sun rose, and the drifts of snowflakes fell. Then slow, lazy morning lovemaking. To only feel each other- greet each other’s bodies, claim each other. You could not help but admire Loki- his muscular back, wide chest, the little chest hair he had that was as dark as the hairs on his head. It almost made you disappointed when he got to change into his clothes. You followed suit with normal clothes, though a little worn and smelly from the day's change. No doubt his magic would have you all cleaned.

The cabin had breakfast. You both sat down, helping yourself to warm oatmeal with honey and eggs scrambled with cheese on them.

But how handsome, how free he looked by the fire! You couldn’t help it- you grabbed him and kissed him again. You couldn’t help but get into his lap.

He spread your legs wide as you straddled him. Continuing to kiss him, he moaned. He was panting as your hands explored him, as your hips met and you began to grind.

You reached back, touching the table, pushing aside the plates, and guiding him on.

“Let’s finish what we started last night,” you urged as you grabbed him.

He let out a smile, pulling up your skirt and petticoat.

“My- already-so much desire! And your second day…but how fortunate your lovely clothing has such…simpler access,” he said.

He leaned over to kiss you, getting wetter as he cupped your face. But his pants were still on him, you felt his hardness brush against you.

“You’re eager too. Again! My mother would tell me, that men can only finish once and then take a lot of time after to recover!” you recalled.

“My dear, you’re forgetting something…”

He undid his pants, grabbing your hips closer once he was freed. But you kept your eyes on his smirk, feeling his hard length just at the start of your entrance.

“I am not a man.”

He thrust on there, his grunts in your ear. Your laughter melted with moans. Immediately, it was intense, faster. Now this- this would be called “fucking,” you thought. He pounded into you, what little dishware shaking.

“Yes-yes-Loki- yes-please-for gods’s sake-your sake-oh-oh yes,”

His pants and grunts, his soft repetitions of your name, the table shaking as he kept on. “Yes-yes, darling- I want to want to take you on every surface here- everyone, until all the corners have felt your-your beautiful bare skin- and not one place isn’t ringing with-fuck-you scream-screaming my name when you cum.”

As he thrust, he let out a grin that bared his teeth. Then a green light shone in his eyes.

“Let’s make this a little more fun,” he voiced.

Then two shadows went up, crawling from him, they held you back. Then one reached up your leg so they were high in the air. Then the other you felt grab your wrists, holding your arms up tight. It was a deep angle.

“Oh-oh gods!” you cried as he reached there.

“Yes- and that god is me now-” he grunted. “Yes-yes keep there- keep there-darling pet-fuck-good-good little pet-”

He kept thrusting wildly. The shadows holding you close. The spin crawled up inside you, tightening everything. Ready to let go.

“Should I-I-I stop?” he teased, still that slight smile, continuing his pounding.

“Please-Please Loki- oh-oh-please no- oh gods-I’m going to cum- I’m about to-about to-”

With that, your release hit you even stronger. The world spun as it all relaxed and released inside you. You made a sound with it- Loki did as well as you felt his release inside you. Both of you stopped for a while, looking at each other as the high ran its course and then washed down. His chest heaving with the breath lost. He pulled out, pulling you up to press your forehead to his.

“You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful…” he breathed out.

The shadows around the room stretched out to the walls. You looked at them as Loki smoothed your skirt and helped you back up, though keeping a hand around your back.

“Loki…how much magic does it take for the shadows?” you asked.

“Quite a bit,” he answered. “It just….flew out of me.”

You looked around to see the Shadows fixing the dishes that fell. They set them back up. Loki kept an arm around you and you placed a hand on his chest to observe. You noticed the green light still shining in his eyes. Then they shrunk, returning to him. You felt a brush past you like a cool mist. They went back to his toes and the green light from his eyes dimmed.

“Your powers are restored!” you cried.

You looked around- the safe, warm cabin surrounded by snow. A table with little water paintings. The smell of warm bread and lovemaking. The crackling, comforting fireplace. The touch of the warm blankets and embraces and reassuring kisses were as delicate and soft as the snowflakes that flew down outside the frosted windows. Then back at him.

“Then…we must go…” Loki said.

“I wish we could stay here longer…” you sighed.

“As do I, Y/N darling. Just be patient, my dear. We will complete our quest…and then we can return whenever we wish…”

Loki went to the fireplace and leaned down. You raised your eyebrows as he reached in but the fire did not burn him. He took the orange orb in his hands and returned unscathed. The fire continued to crackle as normal, though you wondered without the orb it would die and if the food would spoil.

He used his free hand to create a portal. Clutching his arm, you both went to Asgard.

At once, you were in the throne room of Asgard again. Before you were The Variants, Stella and Sif, and Thor in a circle all talking loudly and worriedly. As the portal made a sound as it closed, their heads all whipped back to you two and they were silenced.

“I hope none of you missed us too terribly,” Loki announced.

They gasped and turned to you, all hugs and smiles, reassuring words. Loki went to Thomas and handed over the orb.

“Here we are-long promised. We went through quite the trouble, so it should help.”

“It shall,” Thomas assured him, amazed that the fiery-looking orb did not harm his hand.

Thor then went up and hugged Loki so tight it almost shook the life out of him.

“How I missed you, brother! We must celebrate! All of us!”

As he let down, Loki returned to you and held your hand in his.

“Yes- took a little longer than expected. We apologize- but we are back and safe. I’ll have to tell you all about Y/N’s incredible rescue,” he boasted. He then raised your hand and kissed it. You couldn’t help but smile big.

Stella looked between you two.

“May I speak with her in private for a minute, please?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!” replied your True Love.

Immediately, Stella led you back to her room and closed the door.

“YN! Please- tell me! The way he touched you! The way you looked at each other…are you….did he…say anything!?” she asked with an excited smile, grabbing your arm.

Your eyes were full of happy tears and your smile grew.

“He loves me, Stella!” you cried.

She went up and hugged you, rocking you back and forth.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! It finally happened!” she cheered.

She then released the hug, lighting and patting your chin.

“Well, you have spent much time surrounded by all of these handsome men! It only seems fair you should pick one of them!” she teased.

You chuckled at her and then went back to holding both of her hands, the words spilling out from you.

“I can’t stop smiling, and yet crying and I feel shaky and humbled yet alive and thrilled! I…I don’t know what to do! I’m crying and yet I’m also laughing so much…” you rambled on, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Here, let me get a handkerchief…” she offered.

She wiped your face with her handkerchief.

“That’s much better!” she said.

She hugged you again.

“I am so glad after seeing you brave through such misery to be this happy! To see you loved and in love…” she said.

Releasing the second hug, you returned her handkerchief to her.

“I will tell you, Asgard is my home now. But Stella…what of your home?”

She fixed a few blonde hairs that fell out of place in her braid back in.

“I want to go back home. Yes, I spoke with the others but, I decided to leave after it was confirmed you were safe and returned. I miss my family… Dante playing the piano, Edith sighing about all the gloves she wishes she could buy, Elliott and Brian discussing which girls they are infatuated with, my parents on their chairs by the fire- I miss them all! I waited for you and I know you are safe.”

You nodded.

“Loki will be glad to make you a portal back home.”

“Y/N, I promise I will visit- and I will write letters and Thomas will deliver them until then. He’s nice enough to do that-i could never imagine! A baronet delivering my letters!”

You both smiled and then you clutched her hands.

“Oh, you are always welcome here! I will make sure of it. I promise you, Stella, you will always find friendship and safety in Asgard, in the palace at least- and you will be the most welcome guest of them all!” you cried.

“Oh, wonderful! Now…could you come with me to the kitchen, please? I have some things to make and I want you to tell me all about what happened with you and Loki-do not hide one thing from me!”

She revealed that she was in the process of baking goodies for a long time in the kitchen to thank everyone. You told her what happened in Jotunheim. And you did not hide from her about losing your virginity at last to the god of mischief. She blushed but kept listening, never once lecturing you about waiting until marriage. If she thought that, she kept it to herself. She said she was only happy that Loki made you so happy.

The next day was the day of her departure. She made all sorts of little cakes and biscuits to thank them all and handed them off in little baskets that the group opened to gape at. Sif sniffed her hazelnut biscuit curiously, but taking a bite, raised her eyebrows to admit she enjoyed it. Jonathan carefully nibbled his little chocolate cake, but his eyes never left your friend. She dressed in her clean dress and her blue beads around her. Her vase and flowers are in one hand. She then got out a little cloth reticule and set it on top of a suitcase. She went over to enjoy one biscuit before she left. But you eyed the purse dangling on the suitcase.

“What’s in the reticule?” you asked.

“I found all these blue pebbles in the streets and the gardens. They’ll look lovely with the rest of my collection! Oh- and I cannot wait to press those flowers into my journal!” “It does sound like an impressive collection,” Thomas remarked. “Where do you keep it?”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered to the Baronet, an uneasiness to them, and then back to Stella.

“Oh- in my boxes back home, though they are getting a little full-”

Loki conjured her a special blue box. She gasped happily and then moved the items to be placed in.

“Oh, thank you! Loki- I am only so glad you make my dearest friend happy. She truly deserves it- may you always love her and treat her well!” she said.

“Of course, dear Miss Harris.”

She looked at them.

“Thank you all. Thank you to Y/N for listening to me, and for sending help, of course. Thank you, Jonathan, for taking me out of there. I don’t know what would happen to me if you did not. As well as your gift.”

He smiled at her.

“Of course, Stella,” was his quiet reply.

“Thank you, Miss Sif, for guardian me. Mr. Lancaster, Dr. Laing, Sir Sharpe- you all have been so welcoming and warm to me- and tell the Queen and Prince Thor I’m glad to have met them too…now…goodbye everyone! I will write and return and say hello again, I promise!”

She waved them off and stepped into the portal back home. She easily landed on those brown streets and white houses. At once, her family ran through the door. You could briefly see through the family all hugging her and kissing her. A pile of happy Harris’s welcoming her back. Nothing but warmth and love. Then the portal melted back to normal.

You smiled. As much as you would miss her, you were happy for her and her family.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that day, Loki said he had to go find his mother to discuss something. He held it up and kissed it tenderly. You gently touched his cheek, a smile on his face. Then, almost hesitantly, he let go and went back up.

As you went over to eat with the others, you saw Hal, Robert, and, most surprisingly, Thor, at a table enjoying some ale in large cups. Your eyebrows shot up at the blonde god of thunder.

“Why, what are you doing here?”

“I much missed the company of these fine fellows- so here I am!” Thor declared. “Besides, we have something we want to discuss! I hear you and my brother are much in love, Lady YN!”

You sat down, feeling warm. Smiling at them.

“Yes. Yes, we are- and we are! And I’m happy!” you cried.

Robert leaned forward, folding his hands and smiling. Though it was smiles they all shared between them.

“Oh, we all knew about it!” the doctor teased. He took a pastry, you weren’t sure if it was one made by Stella or the Asgard cooks, and took a bite of it.

“Loki spoke of you not long after he met you from his trip to Midgard. He was already at least a little besotted. I told him to court you, and pursue you as any suitor should!” Thor recalled.

Robert nodded towards Thor.

“Oh, it was pretty clear you both were interested in each other, we just had to stand by and watch it all and wait for you both to admit it.”

Hal took a bite of his food and then looked at you.

“My lady, you should have seen the day when Jonathan came forth as a messenger, saying that Loki had brought you to Asgard after your apparent cry for help,” he recalled. He gestured to the others there. “He was already watching everything from his shadowy corners. Then he came up to us in this room as we all sat to tell us what occurred.”

There was a little repressed snigger among them.

“We asked if Loki had wooed and won his lady love, especially after her great rescue by a god,” Thor began. The corners of his lips twitched up.

“And what did Jonathan say?” you asked.

“He said you threw a shoe at him,” Robert answered.

They finally burst into laughter. Laughing so hard, Thor’s voice seemed to shake the walls for nothing about him could be minuscule. Hal dipped his head back, baring his teeth in a wide smile. And Robert turned bright red and placed a hand over his stomach.

“How I wish I could have seen it myself! Even now- we cannot help but laugh at that!” Hal chuckled.

You laughed along with them, accepting your ridiculous actions back them. Then Thor turned to you, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Nevertheless, I am glad for it. You make my brother happy and I love him. I’m glad to see him so,” Thor said.

You grinned up at him.

“Thank you so much, I will do everything I can to make sure he is happy,” you promised.

“I believe you already have,” said Thor, clasping a comforting, large hand on your shoulder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The orb was taking time to work. And Jonathan was completing the last of the translations. He said he would take it upon himself, and he went to the library to focus on that so Thomas could focus on the device. Divide and conquer, as the old saying goes.

You couldn’t help but be curious about this little room where Thomas made his inventions. It was a smaller room. Three desks full of parts, gears, and knick-knacks cluttering all over sat in each part. You noticed all sorts of children’s toys lying about- music boxes, mechanical animals, dolls. There was one device that sat in the corner behind you. It was a lovely little room full of gears, but also little mechanical toys. Devices, miniature machines, and all sorts of things. The tracking device itself looked like a little compass attached to what seemed to be a mechanical crane with wires near a typewriter with a blank sheet of paper in it- untouched. No location yet.

But there was a figure wrapped in a plaid shawl sitting on a chair- the room could get a little chilly. His back to you. Quiet and focused on something on that desk. His dark, curly hair was so much like your True Love’s hair. He turned over with a smile.

“Oh! It’s you” Thomas greeted.

“Hello, Sir Sharpe…how is it all going?” you asked.

He looked over at the tracking device.

“It should take another day…but then it should all be ready. This device shall sense where it is and the typewriter shall write it down,” he answered.

You observed over at some of the little dolls sitting on the desk. Some of them are in cloth dresses like the ones worn in Asgard.

“Thomas- did you make all of these?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes. Sometimes for the business here. But all of my life, I had ideas. I was fascinated by how machines work. I love to make toys. Let me show you- here! This one!”

He gave you a miniature of the machine he was working on.

“This one. It digs up clay and dirt in the ground and harvests it. Perhaps it shall be useful soon after all of this. Now we have to use it to support the Asgard economy. And here…this one….this is the one we need magic for!” he explained excitedly.

“I bet you will help so many others!” you encouraged.

He nodded, setting the device down on his desk.

“Yes…yes, I will. I wish I could open a shop to sell them. Even if it were simply toys for the little children here, I would be happy,” he said.

He looked around at his various devices. And then he turned to you.

“I know you are wondering about what happened in the Weaver’s Cottage…” he began.

“Yes, I do, and I know Loki told me it is personal…” you assured him, a hand flew up before you to pause.

Thomas’s smile melted down, and you heard him take a deep breath.

“Miss, I believe I am ready to tell you…” he began.

He gestured for you to sit on a chair next to him. He removed his shawl. He then folded his hands, slightly leaning over. He rubbed his hand once, and then looked into your eyes.

“The Weaver- her form was that of my elder sister, Lucille.”

It seemed she always took the form of someone personal to your friends. If it was Munrow for Robert, you had your suspicions, from what you gathered of their stories, whose forms she took for Hal and Jonathan…and Loki too.

He looked sad.

“Thomas…you were frozen in that little cottage. And she said something about women dying and you doing nothing to stop it…did Lucille…harm someone?” you asked.

“We have known each other and have been friends long enough, I can tell you…”

He swallowed.

“I grew up under the baronetcy of the Sharpes. We lived in a grand mansion in England in the middle of the countryside. A plain field with no trees. Where the town was a long, lonely walk away. Isolated, imposing, and grand. The mansion I had known for all of my life was twelve times the size of a normal house. One would think my childhood was full of playing through the halls…but Mother locked us up in the attic. All I can remember was having to stay there. And if we snuck out or misbehaved…Father would beat us. Like he beat mother.”

You turned cold inside.

“He broke her legs. Lucille was allowed in and out then to nurse her…she did so much, there was something of protectiveness in her. Once, we were caught sneaking out of the attic and she took the beating in my place. The words my father called her. His daughter. A child…I could never repeat them to you. We would cling to each other in the dark attic. She would sing me a lullaby to help lull me to sleep. I would come up with little toys from the knick-knacks. One night she was sobbing and I embraced her. We made a vow to never abandon or be apart from each other. One we would keep- we were all each other had. Then…then…”

He hesitated. Then taking in another breath, he continued with his eyes looking right into yours, even if they began to blink rapidly.

“I was nine I think…she was already blossoming into adolescence. And she told me….told me one day to…to take off my clothes. And to lie down on the floor in the dark, I didn’t know what was happening. I felt myself crying. But I was curious and I wanted her to feel better…and she…lifted her skirt and she…she…”

He paused. You felt sick to your stomach.

“You can imagine the rest.”

Your mouth opened wide and you set a hand over it in a silent gasp.

“She continued for years. I didn’t know how I felt. Sometimes it was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was nice. I just kept being called over by her…to do it. Bring her some solace. But yet..I…I didn’t know…I didn’t even know what was happening to me when it did…”

He swallowed.

“Then Lucille had enough of our father. His cruelty. Her rage burned up inside her. Until One day, I managed to get out and his bleeding corpse was on the bottom of the stairs… and she was on top, the blood on her hands…”

“So it meant your mother could let you out?”

“No- she still kept us confined. Years passed- I was about twelve. Lucille Fourteen. Then one day she…she caught us in the middle of it.”

You didn’t have to ask what.

“My eyes were shut- they shut whenever it happened. I don’t remember my mother's face, but I remember her crying ‘Oh my god!’ and calling us monsters. But my eyes did open in time…to see Lucille split an axe into her head.”

He swallowed, blinking, and then continued.

“Then the police arrived. Had us separated- I Was sent to boarding school and she to an institution. I learned while she suffered. Part of me always pitied her. I still do, in a way. She loved me so much, and did everything for me…so when I graduated, I kept our promise and I got her out. To survive, to have the money for us, our house, my inventions…she came up with a plan. I’d marry a rich woman and once we had their money transferred to us, she’d kill them.”

“Did you enact it?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Yes. Three times. With three women. Each with little to no family, so no one would come by knocking if they were to disappear. Though I never fell in love with them, I promised Lucille I never would…yet still I…I pitied them. I would bring them here, smiling. Ignorant of their doom. And dread curled in me. And I smiled anyway. Lucille had a special tea she would brew to poison them, weaken them. I would be the one to bring it to them. Kiss their heads, tell them everything was going to be splendid. They would grow sick, and cough blood. Grow weak. They would think it was consumption..”

You felt a chill. Recalling your past illness that led you here.

“But Lucille was impatient. And eager for blood. So once they signed away their money to go to our family, I would go away. Say it was a business trip. Kiss them one last time. Then I left for town. So I would not hear the screams, their pleas for help, for me, for anyone as Lucille took her blade and shredded them apart.”

You were quiet. Thomas looked utterly white.

“I might as well have stabbed myself. I let it happen. I never once laid with them. Lucille always beckoned me, telling me she loved me, and that it was all for me as she began to do acts on me again…only sometimes my body would feel pleasure… yet I always felt…like an animal doing tricks. Doing things since my youth to please her- since it was all I knew, it was at least what I could predict. She spoke to me always harshly, making me go back to her more- for no one in this world I could rely on more than her…she broke me.”

He laid his head down, looking at his own hands. Then he looked back at you, a few tears in his eyes.

“I have so much…shame and guilt. More than I think anyone could understand…I felt like I could never say no to her. Y/N, I know you must think of me as less than a man for refusing to stand up to her-”

“Of course not! You were merely a victim of it all!”

“But I let her do everything- including murder those women. I wanted to escape...but if Lucille was alone, she would…I’d feel…guilty, she was still my sister, who took everything and did everything…then Loki appeared.”

He looked around his inventions, then back at you, wiping the tears off with his hand.

“He knew it all. He knew I…I could never refuse her, or fight her off. He told me if I did, she would kill me. So he offered me an escape, a solution. He said I could move into the palace in Asgard. To a place where the walls didn’t creak and the red clay from the ground didn’t bleed into the floors. Invent for him, for his special quest. He promised me Lucille would be safe and cared for. That there would at least be a…duplicate of me to be there with her so she wouldn’t be alone as she always feared she would be. And he would conjure enough money so that we would not harm any more poor women. And he brought me here.”

He let out a deep breath.

“…I felt bad, but I was trapped in that place. It became a prison. And Lucille and I were long dead even though we still breathed…”

He picked up the shawl and curled it over himself. There was a brief silence between both of you.

“Dear god, Thomas…” you voiced out.

“Now all I want is redemption, from my shame and guilt….from being in her bed since I was young…”

“You were a child taken advantage of!” you cried.

“Lucille was young too.”

“She was old enough to know better!” you pointed out.

He glanced out at the window where sunlight seeped through. Peaceful and joyful.

“And here- here, I can redeem myself from…allowing Lucille to harm three innocent women? From lying to them and leading them to their death?”

“Loki was right. If you refused or denied her, Lucille would have killed you next…” you mused.

He began to blink a little again, his eyes on the window.

“Lucille could have been a wonderful woman, an extraordinary woman even if the world was not so harsh to her as a child….in some ways, she was…but yet…in that haunted, creaking, broken house she was always at home. And me, I felt…felt trapped…”

You reached over and touched his hand to comfort him. His blue eyes went from the window to yours.

“You can call me a villain, Y/N. I am one. I know it,” he said softly.

“Thomas, you were hurt and abused by your entire family. Left alone with no one who would genuinely love you to respect your boundaries and wishes. Left to please those who hurt you to survive…how could I think less of you?” you asked.

He pulled the shawl further over him like a blanket

“I just…I sometimes still feel like a child. Like that little boy…helpless and alone…” he confessed.

You squeezed his hand, continuing to look at him.

“What would you say to that little boy if he was here now? The little boy. Alone and scared. Cooped up in an attic. Beaten by his parents, and molested by his sister… What would you tell him?”

He paused. Truly thinking of it. He looked around as if searching for the right words. Then when he faced you, he had tears again in his eyes.

“I would tell him…if no one would care for him, then I will. I will make sure he never has to suffer as he did…” he answered.

You hugged him and let him cry a little bit more. You then asked a servant to bring him some water and a little food. He cried a little bit more, shaking it, squeezing his long-repressed story out. You brought him your handkerchief for him to wipe off his face. You gave him a small smile, and a hand to rub his arm.

“I’m glad you told me, Thomas. You are a hero now. Helping so much. Making so many things that saved us, and will save even more people. You’re free from it all now. And you have a life where you are loved and valued and won’t be hurt…I think you’ve redeemed yourself plenty…” you consoled him.

He wiped off a few more quiet tears with the handkerchief before he returned it to you.

“Thank you…I must get back to work, but thank you for listening to me, as disturbing as it was.”

“You are my friend, of course, I shall listen to you. Is there anything else about it you need to speak of now?” you replied.

“No…I would also like to congratulate you. I am overjoyed you and Loki are together. You both found someone to love without conditions or control or hurt…”

He picked up a little from the other desk. He smoothed her hair out of her little face, Looking at her with longing.

“I hope someday the same can be said of me someday…” he wished.

“I’m sure you will- I keep noticing you at every banquet and party! All the Asgard ladies keep giggling over you! You will have their pick of them in no time!” you reminded him.

He smiled at you. His posture relaxed. Thanking you genuinely, you said your goodbyes and he continued to his work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That evening, you joined your True Love in the garden after dinner to watch the sunset. The roses were in bloom with yellows and reds. Trees rustled with the wind. It was the perfect temperature. Not too frigid or warm. He got out chairs for both of you, as you watched the sky melt into pinks and oranges. Smiling at it as you held each other's hands. Then he turned to you.

“Robert and Jonathan told me about these inventions they had for transportation in their time- they’re called cars! They have no horses and run completely by motors!” Loki reported.

His hand opened and conjured an image of a little car above his palm. Your eyes widened, seeing the bright green shine on it and the tires spinning like a mill wheel.

“Thomas knew of them, but he was astounded they looked like that! And there’s another one- for his great quest against Roper, Jonathan had what is called a Motorcycle! It is like a bicycle from your time, only there are motors inside it too!” he continued.

“A motorcycle!? What does it look like?” you asked.

Loki conjured an image of a little black motorcycle and it spun around. You gaped at it in wonder, partially distracted from the ambiance of the place.

“ How does one ride it? It’d make me frightened to fall off!” you commented

“He said you hop on it and push the right buttons and knobs. Then you take off!!” Loki recalled. He made it whirr into place and then drove through the air before it vanished in a shimmer of golden light.

You smiled wide. Then you held hands, watching the sun glow even brighter as it dipped into the horizon.

“To think, it all is almost done…Thomas’s tracker is going to reveal the cauldron. The dagger will be finished and the spell translated any day now,” you remarked.

Loki let out a deep sigh as he took your hand again in yours. You leaned a head against you as you both embraced.

“Indeed…all those days, and adventures…finally this- are you frightened, my dear?” he asked.

“Yes…I am…I only hope all of that training is in good use, should anything occur…”

“We’ll be ready…we all shall…and I trust you as well, my little warrior mortal,” he commented.

You shifted over to sit on his lap. You hugged each other as the sun got lower. You took a hand to smooth his curls. The sky darkened and burst into stars and planets shining above. You could feel his heartbeat soften in his chest, and feel the rumble as he breathed in.

“Whatever occurs…I am only glad to have met you, my dear…” Loki said.

You smiled at him as he lifted a hand and kissed yours.

You both continued to talk quietly. He helped you off of him and you went to stand.

“Now, my dear…I think we should walk through the city. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe,” he said.

“I may be frightened…but I feel like I can face anything as long as you are with me,” you told him.

His hand never left yours as you both started your walk there. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, Jonathan and Thomas rushed into the room as everyone ate breakfast. Thomas’s curls fell a little out of place from excitement. Jonathan clutched the book.

“It’s translated…and the device found where the cauldron lies,” Jonathan reported.

Everyone moved quickly before the Asgard royal family could ask questions. Finally, all of you went to Thomas’s workshop. The device shuddered once with the orb inside, and then its gears ran. The typewriter finally began clicking on the paper. Thomas reached and then took off the paper.

He looked at them, Hal had the dagger. Jonathan a copy of a journal with the translated spell.

He then looked at it, squinting, and reading it carefully.

“Svartalfheim- it’s in Svartalfheim in the Cave of Baldir,” Thomas said.

Everyone nodded, hearing it. The answer is finally there. The weight and yet relief washing on everyone. Thomas folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket.

“Then, let us arm ourselves, dear friends,” Hal said.

Clothes were brought for you to fight in. They matched the leathers of Sifs with iron armor for your middle body, shoulders, and knees. You were amazed at the pants- comfortable enough that you could move freely. You sheathed a sword and several daggers. Testing your hand, a bit of fire came out and then back. The ring from the Weavers cottage was placed on your finger. A reminder. A decoration. Still fitting perfectly, the emerald glittering.

Loki then opened a portal and all of you headed through silently.

Svartalfheim was a barren place. Like a desert with nothing but long dunes of tan sand and grey storm clouds. When the sky peeked out, it looked yellow and sickly.

“Now, let us not waste any time,” Loki began.

You sensed out. There was the Baldur cave- it was close! You felt it like a bell ringing in the back of your head. You pointed in that direction to the men.

“It’s there! Everyone hurry!’” you urged.

Off you ran. Then you saw the cave seeping out from the sandy, dry ground like a burrow. All of you walked inside, quieting your steps. Things became dark, only the light from the sun in the back slowly dimming the further inside you wandered. You clutched one hand on your sword.

But a few steps into the cave you already heard bubbling. You stifled a gasp of joy as the dimming light from the mouth shone on something before you-

A cauldron. Large enough that four people could sit inside and as tall as your head. Green liquid swirling about when you peeked in it on your toes. Green steam rose above it like it was a pot of soup.

Everyone smiled and nodded. Jonathan held out the spellbook as Loki held out the dagger, he began to tap it. He began to chant the ancient Norse as he touched it. You held your breath as the phrase was completed.

Nothing happened.

Loki was frowning.

“The spell didn’t work…it is the same as normal, how come?” he asked.

Then out from the shadows, arms reached over and grabbed you.

You let out a scream as well as Loki and the other variants. The dagger and book fell from their hands as they turned around.

Grendel’s men appeared from the shadows in armor just like the ones in Asgard.

You reached over a hand to shoot out the fire- but nothing happened. Loki reached out a hand, but his face fell as nothing hopped out.

And you realized- you had not sensed them. You fought against one- but they held you. Then you heard a voice, smooth, low, baritone, and confident- but it sent shivers up you.

“Congratulations, you fell for the trap, hook, line, and sinker. Welcome to this lovely little cave- there’s a special spell here. No one can perform magic here except me.”

The soldier holding you brought you forward to the voice. A man emerged from the shadows. Dressed still in a black suit like your own times. A pointed chin and sharp features. You recognized the face from your dream- dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He could have been handsome, but you knew what he did.

“Grendel…”

He gestured as his men all held your band of friends together.

“All of you make quite a band. Adorable…but quite pitiful.”

“What do you want from her? Don’t you dare touch her!” Loki cried out from where he was. He struggled hard, but they held him tight.

The soldier then let go of you, you tried to rush over to them, but with a flick of Grendel’s finger, an invisible wall came up. Loki struggled and got out, but he realized you were blocked- able to hear and see everything.

“Why…why am I separated from the others- what are you going to do to them?” you asked.

He folded his arms, with a wide smile.

“I made a promise. I always live up to my promises,” he declared.

“Promise? What kind of promises are you even capable of making?!” Robert cursed definitely, tugging against the men holding him back.

With a big smile and dramatic hand, Grendel gestured towards a shadowy corner of the cave.

“Mortal Lady, I upheld my end, and you shall yours…” the villain said.

You turned over to the shadows and saw something. A figure moving.

A green scarf.

Before you had time to process it, the Reverend Will Ransome walked into the light.

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darknesseddiem · 25 days

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𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐳: 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝟔𝟔

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the shadowy annals of crime, a figure emerges, casting a chilling pall over the world. Eddie Munson, infamous for his macabre deeds as a serial killer, now stirs fear with an unprecedented proposal. Like a sinister weaver, Eddie prepares to embroider a fabric saturated with long-held vengeance. Whispers of his scheme cloak his intentions in darkness, leaving observers to ponder the depths of his depravity.

Each stitch in his plan weaves a sinister narrative, drawing the curious into the abyss of his psyche. As intrigue mounts, the world braces for Eddie Munson's cryptic request, poised to unravel reality itself, ushering forth chaos and terror.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, gore, mentions of blood; violence, descriptions of torture and death, Eddie is a serial killer, cannibalism, cruelty, mistery, Eddie is on the death row, mentions Chrissy's mother and allusion to her death.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Please be advised that this series of stories delves into darker and more disturbing themes than my previous works. The content will include highly sensitive and grotesque subject matter. If you find yourself uncomfortable with such material, it's perfectly understandable. Your well-being is paramount, and your decision to refrain from reading is respected.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,4K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

Fell free to support my works with some 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢!

In the somber depths of the penitentiary's labyrinthine corridors, where the very air seemed to congeal with foreboding, the flickering glow of pale moonlight dared not venture. Within these subterranean confines, an imposing edifice of concrete and steel stood sentinel, its walls steeped in the crimson stains of untold atrocities perpetrated by the merciless hands of those who had transgressed against the sanctity of innocent lives. This fortress, a bastion of unforgiving incarceration, cast its shadow over all who dared to tread its bleak corridors, an inescapable abyss of despair and anguish.

Descending further still, into the bowels of this infernal domain, lay the deepest recesses of confinement - a purgatory reserved for the most depraved and desolate souls. Here, shrouded in perpetual darkness and devoid of even the faintest glimmer of sunlight or human contact, languished men and women so irredeemably profane that they had become naught but spectral echoes of their former selves. Condemned to an eternity of solitude and torment, they withered away in the suffocating embrace of isolation, their existence a cruel mockery of the vibrant world they once knew.

Amidst this realm of despair and desolation, a singular figure loomed in the shadows - the enigmatic inmate of Cell 66, a nameless specter whose very presence invoked dread and apprehension. Eddie Munson, a man cloaked in the chilling aura of mystery, stood as an epitome of cold-blooded savagery, his nefarious deeds shrouded in the veils of silence and secrecy. For a decade, he had steadfastly refused to divulge the twisted tapestry of his dark past, his lips sealed with an iron resolve that defied the relentless interrogation of law enforcement.

Eddie Munson, age of 28, stood accused of crimes so heinous and grotesque that they defied comprehension - murder, slaughter, torture, and the ultimate depravity of cannibalism. The latter having as victim his father, William Munson, the man had his heart ripped out of his body while he was still breathing, and eaten by his own son.

His victims, numbering unknown, bore the indelible mark of his sadistic cruelty, their anguished cries silenced forever in the abyss of oblivion. Yet, despite the relentless onslaught of interrogation and torture, Eddie remained an impenetrable enigma, his psyche a labyrinthine maze of madness and malevolence that confounded even the most seasoned investigators.

In a desperate bid to extract the truth from him, they exhausted every tool in the arsenal of human torment. Shock therapy surged through his veins like bolts of lightning, while hypnosis sought to unravel the tangled web of his mind. Sleep deprivation gnawed at his sanity, each minute stretching into an eternity of agony. Temperature manipulation plunged him into the icy depths of despair, while purposeful drowning submerged him in a watery abyss of terror.

Yet, despite their relentless efforts, the truth remained elusive, shrouded in the darkness of his twisted psyche. As the investigators and police faced the grim reality of their failure, they reluctantly conceded defeat. With heavy hearts and haunted souls, they consigned him to the unforgiving confines of death row, where the specter of execution loomed ominously over him like a shadowy executioner awaiting his final reckoning.

Perched upon a cold, unforgiving chair, Eddie Munson found himself shackled before a cadre of stern-faced law enforcement officials. The putrid hue of his garb, a garish orange jumpsuit, seemed to mock the gravity of the situation, its color reminiscent of flames licking at the edges of his very existence.

As he awaited his fate, the weight of his crimes hung heavy in the air, a palpable presence that suffocated the room with an oppressive sense of dread. The gaze of the officers bore into him with a mix of contempt and morbid fascination, as if they were peering into the depths of a bottomless abyss, searching for a glimmer of humanity amidst the darkness.

The clang of metal against metal echoed through the chamber as the handcuffs tightened around his wrists, a stark reminder of his loss of freedom and impending doom. And yet, despite the grim tableau unfolding before him, Munson remained eerily composed, his eyes betraying no hint of remorse or regret, but instead, harboring a chilling calmness that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to meet his gaze.

"I, Judge William Bennet Carver," the judge's voice reverberated through the solemn courtroom, each syllable weighted with the gravity of the impending verdict, "sentence Edward James Munson for the heinous crimes of murder, slaughter, cannibalism, torture, concealment of a corpse, violence, and femicide, to face the ultimate justice: the electric chair."

The resounding thud of the judge's gavel against the polished wood punctuated his decree, sending a chilling ripple through the hushed chamber. Yet, amid the somber atmosphere, a twisted smirk danced upon Eddie's pallid visage, his lips curling into a sinister grin that betrayed a morbid amusement at his own demise.

The dim light of the courtroom cast eerie shadows across his features, accentuating the gleam in his eyes that flickered with an unsettling blend of defiance and derangement. To Eddie, the solemn pronouncement of his fate seemed to serve only as fuel for the perverse amusement that bubbled within him, a dark amusement born of a mind steeped in darkness and depravity.

As the weight of his sentence settled upon him like a suffocating shroud, Eddie's gaze remained locked upon the judge, his expression an unsettling mixture of defiance and amusement. For in the face of impending doom, he found only a perverse delight in the twisted game of fate that had brought him to this chilling juncture.

Before the attendees could muster the resolve to depart the trial chamber, a chilling silence settled over the room like a suffocating fog. Yet, amidst the palpable tension, a voice shattered the eerie stillness, cutting through the air with an unsettling cadence that sent shivers down the spines of those present.

It was Eddie, his voice devoid of the usual satisfaction that accompanied his macabre deeds, each word dripping with a cold detachment that belied the horrors lurking within his psyche. As if emerging from the depths of a nightmare, his utterance hung heavy in the air, a spectral presence that seemed to linger long after the sound had faded.

The unexpectedness of his speech sent shockwaves through the gathered throng, their eyes widening in disbelief at the audacity of this monstrous figure to break the oppressive silence that had enveloped the chamber. And yet, despite the chill that coursed through their veins, there was an undeniable allure to Eddie's words, a morbid curiosity that compelled them to hang upon his every syllable, like moths drawn to the flame of his dark presence.

For in that moment, Eddie Munson stood as a harbinger of terror, his voice a haunting echo of the abyss from which he had emerged, leaving all who bore witness to wonder what other horrors lay concealed within the depths of his twisted mind.

"Before you lend me to my inevitable fate," Eddie's voice sliced through the heavy air, his tone carrying an unsettling calmness that seemed incongruent with his looming demise, "there is a final thing I must ask."

The twisted curvature of his lips formed a grotesque grin, a stark contrast against the grim backdrop of the courtroom. His smile, more akin to a rictus of madness, sent shivers coursing down the spines of those assembled, each icy caress leaving behind a trail of apprehension and dread.

The macabre spectacle of Eddie's grin seemed to warp the very fabric of reality, casting a pall of unease over the room as if the darkness within him threatened to consume all who dared to behold it. And yet, despite the visceral discomfort it elicited, there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence, drawing the gaze of onlookers like moths to the flame of his twisted charisma.

For in that moment, Eddie Munson stood as a specter of malevolence, his smile a haunting reminder of the horrors that lurked within the depths of his depraved soul. And as the weight of his words hung heavy in the air, the gathered throng braced themselves for the chilling revelation that awaited, knowing all too well that whatever he had to say would only serve to deepen the darkness that enveloped them all.

“Nothing you say will save you, Mr. Munson.” Judge Carver said seriously.

"Indeed, Judge Carver," Eddie's voice echoed through the chamber, carrying an eerie calmness that seemed to mock the severity of his situation. His gaze, like obsidian pools devoid of remorse, bore into the judge with an unsettling intensity, as if daring him to peer into the abyss of his twisted psyche.

A grim chuckle escaped Eddie's lips, its echo reverberating off the walls like a sinister melody. "Save me?" he mused, the words dripping with a venomous disdain that sent a shiver down the spine of all who heard. "Oh, dear judge, salvation is but a distant memory in the shadowed recesses of my existence."

The air seemed to thicken with tension as the weight of Eddie's words hung heavy in the room, casting a pall of unease over the gathered throng. And yet, despite the palpable discomfort that permeated the chamber, there was an undeniable allure to his defiance, a morbid fascination with the darkness that lurked within him.

For in that moment, Eddie Munson stood as a testament to the depths of human depravity, his words a chilling reminder of the horrors that lay concealed within the darkest corners of the human soul. And as the judge's stern gaze bore down upon him, Eddie met it with a steely resolve, knowing full well that no words could save him from the abyss into which he had willingly descended.

"I want my story to be told to the world," Eddie's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere of the courtroom, each syllable laden with a sinister promise that sent a shiver down the spine of every witness. Gasps of shock rippled through the room, eyes widening in disbelief as if Eddie had uttered a profanity that defied comprehension.

"But... on one condition," he continued, his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating all who dared to breathe in their ominous implications. The palpable anxiety in the room intensified, a suffocating weight pressing down upon the gathered throng, rendering them paralyzed in a state of morbid anticipation.

The silence that followed was deafening, a tangible presence that seemed to fill the room with a foreboding sense of dread. Each heartbeat thundered in their ears like a drumbeat of impending doom, the rhythm echoing the pulse of their mounting fear.

And then, with a voice that cut through the silence like a blade, Eddie delivered his chilling demand: "Bring her to me." The words hung in the air like a curse, casting a shadow over the room as the gravity of his request sank in. In that moment, the darkness that lurked within Eddie Munson's twisted soul spilled forth, enveloping all who bore witness in its malevolent embrace.

As Eddie's demand reverberated through the room, a hushed murmuring rose among the spectators, whispers of unease intertwining with the palpable tension that gripped them all. Judge Carver, his brow furrowed with concern, exchanged a glance with the bailiffs, uncertainty etched in their solemn expressions.

Suddenly, from the back of the courtroom, a figure emerged, cloaked in shadows and bearing an aura of ominous dread. It was a woman, her features obscured by darkness, yet her presence radiated an eerie calmness that seemed to quell the rising panic.

With measured steps, she approached the bench, her gaze fixed upon Eddie with an intensity that bordered on obsession. And as she drew closer, the dim light revealed the haunting familiarity of her visage—a haunting resemblance to one of Eddie's victims, long thought to be lost to the annals of his depravity.

A collective gasp swept through the room as the truth dawned upon them all, a revelation so horrifying that it threatened to shatter the fragile facade of their reality. For in that moment, it became clear that Eddie's request was not merely a macabre whim, but a sinister plot to unleash a new chapter of terror upon the world—one that would plunge them all into the depths of darkness from which there could be no escape.

"It's about time I found you, Munson," the words cut through the air like a frigid wind, each syllable dripping with a chilling resolve that sent shivers down everyone's spine. The voice, belonging to a middle-aged woman, resonated with an underlying tremor, hinting at the depths of her pent-up anguish and fury.

Eddie's gaze locked onto the woman, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a flicker of recognition that danced behind his steely facade. The name she uttered—Selenne Cunningham—stirred a distant memory within him, a memory veiled in the shadowy recesses of his consciousness.

A sinister smile curled at the corners of Eddie's lips, a perverse amusement twinkling in his eyes like the glint of a predator stalking its prey. "Ah, Selenne Cunningham," he purred, his voice laced with a venomous edge that mirrored her own icy tone. "Your daughter... such a delicate flower, crushed beneath the weight of my artistry."

The room fell silent, the tension thickening with each passing moment as the gravity of their confrontation hung heavy in the air.

With the first thread of Munson's sinister plot meticulously woven, the tendrils of his malevolence unfurled like a dark shadow, poised to ensnare those who unwittingly danced within its grasp. The nefarious machinations of Eddie Munson, honed to a razor's edge, stood poised to carve a path of unfathomable destruction through the lives of all who had dared to cross his path.

As the tendrils of his wickedness coiled with calculated precision, a palpable sense of foreboding descended upon those ensnared within the web of his deceit. Edward Munson, a specter of malevolence risen from the depths of darkness, loomed large on the horizon, his presence casting a long shadow that threatened to engulf all who stood in his wake.

With a chilling resolve that echoed through the corridors of fate, he returned from the abyss, his resolve steeled by the bitter taste of past failures. This time, there would be no room for error, no margin for mercy.

Eddie Munson had returned, and with him came a reckoning so dark and terrible that none would emerge unscathed.

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