mangoelriel

He hated coming to the Hewn City. The Court of Nightmares was exactly that; a place filled with the sort of greed, treachery, and cruelty that inspired nightmares. A foulness festered here beneath the mountain like some rotting disease, itching to infect anyone it came into contact with. It was stifling too, especially to an Illyrian. It’s high cavernous walls ensured no sunlight at all could inadvertently squeeze in. As a result the citizens were like lifeless cold weeds. It was small wonder they were heartless and bitter. Candlelight was the only light to be had tonight and so shadows danced around the walls and ceiling like they were sentient. His own dark shadows curled around his shoulders protectively, on guard for any sign of trouble. He sent some of them forth through the crowds to spy, to seek, to listen. He didn’t trust anyone beneath this mountain; he certainly didn’t trust its piece of shit steward Keir to keep things calm either.

Yet he would endure this onslaught for his family, for Rhys and Feyre. It was a necessary visit, after all, and they knew their parts. If all went to plan, they would be back in Velaris before midnight where they could celebrate Solstice properly over a bottle (many bottles) of wine.

Even though he knew this, knew that Cassian was telling himself the very same thing, Azriel still couldn't shake the sinking feeling of discomfort that coursed through his body. He knew he was more on edge than usual and it wasn't just the effect of Hewn City. He was nervous. Partly because of Feyre’s new found pregnancy… and partly because her ravishing sisters were accompanying them.

A few hours. Just a few damn hours.

At last the towering doors of the throne room were thrown open dramatically and the High Lord’s family steadily made their entrance. They entered together with their heads held high to demonstrate to the citizens of the city that they were a united front. That the High Lord's family was strong, beautiful, deadly.

Rhys and Feyre led the way towards the dais, magnificent in their black silken attire. They were wearing matching masks carved from ice, looking every inch the cruel master and mistress. The rich scent of Feyre's pregnancy trailed behind her and the gathering masses watched their High Lady with fear in their eyes. Rhys guided Feyre to the throne like a polished courtier but the look he threw to the citizens was one of pure menace; it said very clearly that he would shatter anyone who caused his mate (his pregnant mate) any trouble. Feyre took a seat and Azriel let his gaze turn to the older Archeron sisters at last.

It was Nesta's night tonight and she was dressed to impress and entice. She suited the brutal fashion of the Court of Nightmares more so than even Feyre; the revealing black dress she wore was a creation of pure shadows and she wore it like armor. The silver tiara that sat on her plaited head looked just right. They were serving her up tonight like a diamond on a platter to Eris of all people but Nesta's usual scowl was no where to be seen. The Autumn Court lordling himself was standing tall and proud at the edge of the crowd besides Keir, dressed also in Night Court black. His beady eyes were already fixed on Nesta. Azriel made sure not to glance across at Cassian but could already feel waves of anger rolling off him. He was going to struggle enormously with tonight's schemes.

And last (though certainly not least, not ever) was Elain.

And Elain did not belong here.

How could she? Elain was a creature of light, of warmth. She represented everything good and beautiful in the world. She didn’t belong in such a dark gloomy place like this. A place where the darkness swallowed you whole and consumed you. Azriel didn’t want her to even lay her lovely doe-like eyes on the city. But she’d surprised them all and demanded to come along. She’d said she was a member of this court – of this family – and would do whatever was necessary to help. It was rare that the middle Archeron sister ever insisted on anything and he admired her courage, even though he sorely wished she was back in the safety of her garden in Velaris.

She looked as beautiful as ever – nothing could tarnish the fact that Elain had a face sculpted by the Mother herself, a face that could bring kings to their knees – but the black material of her dress seemed to drain the light from her warm brown eyes. Just like this place will, he thought. Thankfully, Elain's gown was cut modestly in a blatant opposite to Nesta’s and that was a mercy; the idea of these lecherous creeps admiring her like they were Nesta would be a real test to his nerves.

And her hair. Cauldron, she looked wonderful with it unbound. He felt an urge to ran his fingers through the lengths, to bunch it in his fist.

Then a shadow whispered in his ear… 'her fingers are trembling. She's nervous. There are some in the crowd who have noticed.'

Azriel tore his stare away reluctantly and scouted the crowds instead, searching for any hint of danger. His shadows told him that three of his best spies were scattered throughout the crowd. That was good, the more eyes the better. He kept his gaze empty as it brushed over the citizens. Some faces were staring at the High Lord's family with open hostility, some with awe. The ones that caught his eye quickly looked down with terror. He was the Shadowsinger, the spymaster of the Night Court. They knew exactly what horrifying deeds he did for his High Lord.

The Archeron sisters finally took their places beside Feyre like it was a choreographed dance. Rhys addressed Keir and the crowds with some empty words of thanks and permitted them to start the festivities. Azriel always admired how easily Rhys was able to slip into the role of High Lord. Rhys must have heard his thoughts because he heard his brother’s laughter in his head. Watch the sisters, he asked. Tonight's going to be difficult for Cass.

Music began to play and Eris was introduced formally. Azriel watched out of the corner of his eye as Feyre slyly suggested he dance with one of her sisters, seeing as she was in no condition to. This had all been planned beforehand. It was like a play and they all had their scripts and lines. Yet he still seethed when Eris looked Elain up and down. She managed to give a passable performance of looking interested when Feyre suggested he dance with Nesta instead.

He saw Elain’s breathe out in relief. As did he.

Nesta began to dance with Eris and she was just as wonderful as Elain promised. She was playing her part well – after one dance Eris already looked like he wanted to drag her away and bed her.

A part of him wanted Elain to dance, purely for his own benefit, though he would likely murder whoever asked her. He knew she liked music - had seen her play a similar tune on the piano at the townhouse when she thought no one was watching - and she would surely be as graceful at dancing as she was everything else. Besides, it would give him a legitimate reason to watch her for once. For a wild moment, he thought about leading Elain out onto the floor himself. There was no reason to prevent it; Rhys had asked him to watch the sisters, after all, and what better way then to have Elain in his arms? Dancing was innocent enough. His fingers flexed of their own accord as he thought about placing his hands around her slim waist. Of drawing her small body close to his own. Of gripping her hand with his scarred one.

They would look wonderful together; his dark shadows encircling her delicate beauty.

By the Cauldron, he wanted to dance with her. But deep down he knew he couldn’t. How was he supposed to remain this icy cold creature with her in his arms? If she smiled at him or laughed, he knew he would be utterly undone. He was already distracted by her mere presence when he knew he should be focusing on the crowd.

I won’t ask her to dance, he decided. Not before them.

He wanted her to dance for him alone.

“Move.”

He watched as Cassian jealously interrupted Nesta and Eris. He’d been so preoccupied by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his brother step down from his post and break up the couple. Luckily, Nesta quickly accepted him and Eris stomped away to talk with Rhys and Feyre. Would the lordling ask Elain to dance now? His gaze flicked, as always, back to Elain. She was standing a little away from Feyre now and a passing servant offered her a glass of what looked like wine. Without thinking Elain gave him a dazzling smile and missed the look of disbelief on the servant’s face.

Cassian's left his post, I may as well too.

Azriel stepped smoothly to her side. His shadows had been out in force ever since he arrived in the Court of Nightmares but as he approached Elain they seemed to subside a little as they always did. He lazily took a glass from the servant’s tray as well and waved him away.

She looked like she was about to smile again but Azriel gave a subtle shake of the head in warning. He spoke quietly so that nobody could overhear.

“No smiles. Remember we’re here to play a part,” he murmured. He took a long sip of his drink.

“Ah.” Elain tried to smooth out her face into what she thought was a cold look. She had none of Nesta’s ease with it, however. Elain was made for smiling, for laughing. That was part of her charm.

“Passable.”

They both kept their eyes on Nesta and Cassian as they spoke. Elain took a long sip of her drink and he wondered if it was her first. His shadows confirmed it was. “It's no wonder you all hate this place. It’s so different to Velaris. All the fake smiles…”

“We call it the ‘Night Triumphant’ look,” he explained. “Boredom and callousness all rolled into one. A face that promises death. It’s what the other courts expect from the Night Court inner circle.”

“It's awful.”

He realised that if she asked it of him, he would winnow her home right away. Damn the party.

“It’ll be over soon,” he replied, allowing a mere hint of softness in his tone.

“I can feel their eyes on me. It’s suffocating,” she ran her free hand down the line of her dress. “I can’t wait to get out of this too.”

Thoughts of Elain sliding out of that gown threatened to overwhelm him just then. He could make out little buttons running down the back – she would no doubt need help with them later on from Nuala or Cerridwen. For a second he allowed himself to imagine that he was that lucky person. He was torn between wanting to unbutton each one ever so slowly or simply rip it off. He thought about the soft pale skin that would be at last be revealed to him. He was sure that he’d had similar dreams in the past.

He realised his icy mask was no doubt slipping and quickly pulled himself together. He thought he caught a hint of a blush on her rosy cheeks.

“You are lovely.”

“You’re being kind. I look dreadful.”

“The amethyst gown suits you more than black silk,” Azriel replied honestly. “Nesta looks like she could rule this court but you are made for sunshine, for laughter, for life. For far more nobler things.”

“That’s very beautiful. If you think that way about me.”

They both still had their gazes on the dancing. If anyone were to observe them they would think they were casually discussing the wine or Nesta’s dancing.

Azriel allowed his free hand to drop down by his side and lightly – as lightly as a wisp of wind – he brushed the backs of his fingers against her own. He heard her quiet intake of breath, then felt her own shyly brush back.

“I’d ask you to dance, but I can’t think of anything less appealing than dancing in front of all these people,” she said quietly. Perhaps she too realised how dangerous their dancing together may be.

“Another time.” He would make sure that one day he would dance with Elain pressed into his arms and there would be no cause to hide his smiles or laughter.

His shadows alerted him to the fact that Rhys was looking over at them. He fixed his brother with an impassive smile as he discreetly drew back his hand. In that second he resented Rhys, resented the fact that he could sit beside his pregnant mate proudly for the world to see. Resented the fact he could not hold hands or dance with the woman he wanted. He knew that deep down it went beyond Rhys. Beyond their charade and the Court of Nightmares. The real reason he could not dance with her or be with her. He could barely bring himself to name the underlying reason that kept them apart. It was easier to ignore it.

Her mate. The brother of the lordling who was standing in the very same room.

“You should dance with Nesta,” Elain suddenly suggested. “Cassian looks like he needs a break but he won’t give her up to anyone else. Especially with Eris looking at her like that.”

He saw that she was right. It was probably for the best that he dance with Nesta and put some space in between them. He was glad that she was the one to suggest it; he certainly wouldn’t have been able to.

“You’ll be okay alone?”

“Feyre won’t let anyone bother me,” she said confidently. “Go…I’ll watch from the shadows.”

Azriel’s lips twitched before he could stop it.

He inclined his head to her in a courtly fashion and in return she dipped into a shallow curtsey. Their movements were courteous and polite but he caught a delicious glimmer of desire in her eyes before he turned to the dancefloor. He knew he would be thinking about that glimmer later on tonight when alone.

Candlelight was the only light to be had tonight and so shadows danced around the walls and ceiling as though they were sentient. His own dark shadows curled around him protectively, on guard for any sign of trouble. He sent some of them forth through the crowds to spy, to seek, to listen. He didn’t trust anyone beneath this mountain; he certainly didn’t trust its piece of shit steward Keir. The only reason he was tolerated was because they needed his Darkbringers and he kept himself mostly to himself in this realm.

Yet he knew his family would endure this onslaught for the night if Rhys wanted it. They had laughed in the face of worse danger. They knew that this visit was necessary and that they all had their parts to play. This was merely a pretend and then they could leave. Their real home Velaris was far away and safe and beautiful. These people could not touch that.

Even though he knew this, knew that beside him Cassian was telling himself the very same thing, he still could not shake the feeling of discomfort that coursed down his body tonight. It could be noticed in the clench of his jaw, the stiff line of his body. He knew he was more on edge than usual and it was partly down to Feyre’s pregnancy and partly because her sisters were accompanying them.

At last, the towering doors of the throne room opened dramatically and the High Lord’s family steadily made their entrance. They entered the court together as a show of strength. It was all part of the pretend; to show the citizens of the Hewn City that their ruling family was powerful and united. And dangerous.

His High Lord and Lady led the way, magnificent in their black attire and shining crowns. The rich scent of pregnancy trailed after Feyre and the gathering masses watched with fear in their eyes as they stepped onto the raised dais. They were both wearing masks of ice, looking every inch the cruel master and mistress. Rhys guided Feyre to her throne, as polished as any courtier, but the look he threw the citizens was one of pure menace; it said very clearly that he would shatter anyone who caused his mate any trouble.

Nesta and Elain walked behind Rhys and Feyre as members of the ruling family. It was Nesta’s night tonight and she was dressed to impress and entice. She suited the brutal fashion of the Court of Nightmares more so than even Feyre; the revealing black dress she wore was a creation of shadows. He thought she wore it like armor. The tiara that rested on her plaited head seemed to signify that she was royal in her own right.

He made sure not to glance at Cassian. His brother would struggle tonight; they were serving her up like a diamond on a platter to Eris of all people. A small part of him longed for a reason to paste Eris’s smug grin across the floor himself. Eris himself was standing tall and proud at the edge of the crowd with Keir, dressed also in Night Court black. His eyes were already fixed on Nesta.

And last, though certainly not least, there was Elain.

Azriel’s first reaction to Elain coming along had been no no no no. It just wasn’t right. She was a creature of the light, of warmth. To him, she represented everything good and beautiful in the world. She didn’t belong in such a dark gloomy place as this. A place where the darkness could swallow you whole and consume you. He didn’t want her to even lay her lovely doe-like eyes on it.

But she’d surprised them all and consented to come. She’d said she was a member of this court – of this family – and would do whatever was necessary to help. It was rare that the middle Archeron sister ever insisted on anything and he couldn’t help but admire her courage in that moment, even though he still wished she was safely at home where he wanted her.

She was trying her hardest to play the role now, walking with her head held high and her shoulders back. She was such a graceful person usually (she could make setting the dining table look elegant) that this seemed like something she would excel in. Glancing at her now you would think she was used to the Hewn City but her fingers trembled slightly at her side, betraying her nerves only to those who looked closely.

She was wearing a long black gown also but it was modestly cut in a blatant opposite to Nesta’s. For that he was appreciative; the idea of these lecherous creeps looking at her like they were with Nesta would be a real test to his nerve. Her long curly golden-brown hair was left down for a change though Nuala had skillfully used two shining combs of pearl to sweep it away from her face. She looked beautiful as always – nothing could ever really tarnish that – but the black colour of her dress seemed to drain the light and warmth out of her skin.

Just like this place will, he thought.

He tried to not glance at Elain too much as she walked and kept his gaze on the crowds. Although it was long, the gown fit her small body like a glove. It hugged her tiny waist before smoothing over her hips and thighs. Her ass looked incredible in it too.

He scouted the crowds around them instead, searching as always for any hint of danger. His shadows told him that three of his best spies were scattered amongst the crowd. That was good, the more sets of eyes the better. He kept his gaze cold as it brushed over the citizens. Some faces were staring at the Lord’s family with open hostility. The ones that caught his eye quickly looked down with terror.

He was the Shadowsinger, the spymaster of the Night Court. They knew exactly what he did for his High Lord. He was long used to the sight of blood on his scarred hands.

The Archeron sisters took their places beside the thrones like it was a choreographed dance. Rhys addressed Keir and the crowds and permitted them to start the feast. Azriel always admired how easily Rhys was able to slip into the role of High Lord.

Rhys must have heard his thoughts because he heard his brother’s laughter in his head. Watch the sisters, he then asked. Tonight is going to be difficult for Cass.

Music began to play and Eris was introduced formally. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Feyre artfully suggested he dance with one of her sisters seeing as she was in no condition to. This had all been planned beforehand, each one knew their parts. It was like a play and they all had their scripts and lines. Yet he still seethed when Eris looked consideringly at Elain. She managed to give a passable performance of looking interested when Feyre suggested he dance with Nesta.

He saw Elain’s breathe out in relief.

Nesta began to dance with Eris and she was just as wonderful as Elain promised. He could well believe she had secured a marriage proposal this way. She was playing her part well – after one dance Eris already looked like he wanted to drag her away and bed her.

A small part of him wanted Elain to dance, purely for his own benefit. He had no doubt that she would be as graceful at it as she was with most things. He knew she liked music; he had seen her playing a similar tune to this on Rhys’s piano when she thought no one was watching. Besides, it would give him a legitimate reason to watch her for once.

He thought about leading Elain out onto the floor himself. There was no reason to prevent it; Rhys had asked him to watch the sisters, after all, and what better way then to have Elain in his arms? Dancing was innocent enough.

His fingers flexed of their own accord as he thought about placing his hands around her waist. Of drawing her small body close to his own. Of gripping her hand with his scarred one.

They would look wonderful together; his dark shadows encircling her warm beauty.

By the Cauldron, he wanted to dance with her.

But deep down he knew he couldn’t.

How was he supposed to remain this icy cold creature with her in his arms? If she smiled at him or laughed, he knew he would be utterly undone. The feeling of her body against his would be far too much for him to handle. He was already distracted by her mere presence when he knew he should be focusing on the crowd.

I won’t ask her to dance here, he decided. Not before them.

He wanted her to dance for him alone.

“Move.”

He watched as Cassian jealously interrupted Nesta and Eris. He’d been so preoccupied by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his brother step down from his post and break up the couple. Luckily, Nesta smoothly accepted him and Eris stepped away to talk with Rhys and Feyre. Would he ask Elain to dance now?

His gaze flicked, as always, back to Elain. She was still standing behind Feyre’s throne and a passing servant of Keir’s was offering her a glass of what looked like wine. Without thinking she gave him a polite smile as she picked up the glass and missed the look of disbelief on the servant’s face.

Cassian has left his post, I may as well too.

Azriel stepped up smoothly to her side. His shadows had been out in force ever since he arrived here but as he approached Elain they seemed to subside a little as they always did. Only the bravest remained and they curled against her softly as though lending her some of their strength. He smoothly took a glass from the servant’s tray as well and waved him away.

She looked at him like she was about to smile again but he gave her a minute shake of the head.

He spoke quietly so that nobody could overhear though Feyre and Rhys was now deep in conversation with Eris.

“No smiles. Remember we’re here to play a part,” he said lowly. He took a sip of his drink.

“Ah.” Elain tried to smooth out her face into what she thought was a cold look. She had none of Nesta’s ease with it, however. Elain was made for smiling, for laughing. That was part of her charm.

“Better.” He was tempted to suggest she imagine Lucien was here as she never smiled for him but didn’t think she would appreciate the joke right now.

They both kept their gazes on Nesta and Cassian as they spoke. Elain took a long sip of her drink and he wondered if it was her first. His shadows confirmed that it was.

“No wonder you all hate this place. All the fakeness, the charade. It’s so different to home.”

“We call it the ‘Night Triumphant’ look,” he explained. “Boredom and callousness all rolled into one. A face that promises death. It’s what the other courts expect from us.”

“I hate it. I hate the way you all look and sound.”

“We’re still us underneath.”

“I know.”

He realised that if she asked it of him, he would winnow her home right away. Damn the party.

“It’ll be over soon,” he said, allowing a mere hint of softness in his tone.

“I can feel their eyes all over me. It’s like they’re expecting something of me. It’s honestly no wonder this place breeds cruelty. It’s suffocating,” she ran her free hand down her dress. “I can’t wait to get out of this too.”

Thoughts of Elain sliding out of that dress threatened to overwhelm him just then. He could make out little hooks running down the back – she would no doubt need help with them later on from Nuala or Cerridwen. For a second he allowed himself to imagine that he was that lucky person. He was torn between wanting to unhook each one ever so slowly or simply ripping it off. He thought about the smooth white skin that would be at last revealed to him. He was sure that he’d had similar dreams to this in the past.

He realised his icy mask was no doubt slipping. He quickly pulled himself together. He thought he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks and realised he had yet to answer.

He swallowed. “You look lovely.”

“You’re being kind. I look dreadful.”

“I do prefer you in your other gowns. The amethyst one suits you more,” Azriel added honestly. “Nesta looks like she could rule this court but you are made for sunshine, for spring. For better things.”

“That’s very beautiful. If you think that way about me.”

They both still had their gazes on the dancing. If anyone were to observe them they would think they were casually discussing the wine or Nesta’s dancing.

Azriel allowed his free hand to drop down by his side and lightly – as lightly as a wisp of wind – he allowed the backs of his fingers to graze against her own.

He heard her intake of breath. He felt her own shyly brush back.

“I’d ask you to dance, but I can’t think of anything worse than dancing in front of all these people,” she said quietly. Perhaps she too realised how dangerous their dancing together may be.

“Another time. I promise.” He would make sure that one day he would dance with Elain pressed into his arms and there would be no cause to hide his smiles or laughter.

His shadows alerted him to the fact that Rhys was looking over at them. He fixed his brother with an impassive smile as he discreetly drew back his hand. In that second he resented Rhys, resented the fact that he could sit beside his mate Feyre proudly for the world to see. Resented the fact he could not hold hands or dance with the woman he wanted.

He knew that deep down it went beyond Rhys. Beyond their charade and the Court of Nightmares. The real reason he could not dance with her or be with her. He could barely bring himself to name the underlying reason that kept them apart. It was easier to ignore it.

“I think you should dance with Nesta,” Elain suddenly suggested. “Cassian looks like he needs a drink but he won’t give her up to anyone else. Especially with Eris looking at her like that.”

He saw that she was right. It was probably for the best that he dance with Nesta and put some space in between them. He was glad that she was the one to suggest it; he certainly wouldn’t have been able to.

“You’ll be okay here alone?”

“Feyre won’t let anyone bother me,” she said confidently. “Go…I’ll watch.”

Azriel’s lips twitched before he could stop it.

He inclined his head to her in a courtly fashion and in return she dipped into a shallow curtsey. Their movements were courteous and polite but he caught a delicious glimmer of desire in her eyes before he turned to the dancefloor. He knew he would be thinking about that glimmer when he was alone tonight.

He approached Nesta and Cassian and asked if he could cut in. Cassian gave her up to his brother without hesitation and Nesta allowed him to lead her into another waltz. He tried to focus on the eldest Archeron sister but all the while felt the gaze of another on his back. He felt himself burn beneath it.