Jane

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Multi-chapters

˚꩜⋆ The Shape of Home (masterlist) - last updated 08-02-2026

One-shots

˚꩜⋆ The Courage to Stay, part two

˚꩜⋆ The Weight of Quiet

˚꩜⋆ Until Morning (18+)

Stuff is starting to cook

The Motherlist

Please refer to the masterlist for warnings. This story is 18+

The mornings arrived quietly, though I was beginning to lose track of how many had passed. They told me, gently and without alarm, that my body was changing - that I was growing wings. The words made no sense, settling in my mind like a dream I couldn't quite wake from. Still, no one treated me as though I were in danger. They were kind. Elain, especially, with her quiet presence and calm voice, made the strangeness feel almost bearable.

Pale sunlight spilled through the enormous windows, painting soft strips of gold across the wooden floor. Somewhere beyond them, Velaris was already awake. I could hear faint voices drifting upward from the city below, carried on the breeze along with birdsong.

I blinked the last traces of sleep from my eyes.

The other side of the room was empty. The blankets Azriel had folded over the couch were neatly stacked where he'd left them, the cushions already straightened as though no one had slept there at all. I wasn't surprised anymore. He always seemed to be awake before the sun.

For a moment, I found myself wondering where he went every morning.

Training, probably. Or working. Whatever it was, he always returned before dinner.

The thought came so naturally that it caught me off guard. A week ago I hadn't known his name, and now I'd started measuring my days around the moments he came and went.

I frowned at myself before a soft snore drew my attention downward.

Hendrick lay sprawled across the rug beside the bed, one paw twitching occasionally as he chased something through whatever dream occupied him. His head rested awkwardly against the leg of the bedside table, tongue hanging just enough from the corner of his mouth to make me smile.

"Comfortable?" I murmured. One ear flicked, but nothing else.

I slipped carefully from the bed, trying not to wake him. The movement tugged uncomfortably across my upper back, a constant reminder I was beginning to grow used to. It no longer felt like the searing agony of that first day. Instead, it settled somewhere between an ache and a strange pressure beneath my skin. Persistent enough that I noticed it every time I moved.

The House had already laid out a dress on the chair near the fireplace. Not mine, of course. Nothing in this room belonged to me.

I dressed slowly before opening the bedroom door and making my way to the kitchen.

The table had already been set. Tea steamed gently beside a plate of warm rolls, fruit and something that looked vaguely like scrambled eggs, though I still wasn't entirely convinced they actually were.

"Thank you," I said softly.

The kettle gave a pleased little whistle in response. It had become routine. Wake up,  find Azriel already gone, eat whatever breakfast the House decided I needed, find Hendrick already cared for, read one of the books the House kept mysteriously leaving on the coffee table and most importantly... try not to think too much.

The thought stopped me halfway through buttering a piece of bread.

Routine.

My stomach tightened. I wasn't supposed to have a routine here.

Four weeks ago I'd been arguing with Mateo over who had to wash a saucepan. Four weeks ago I'd been complaining about Scottish weather while answering emails I secretly hoped nobody would actually read. Four weeks ago I'd still had a phone buzzing with messages I'd eventually get around to answering.

I stared down at the untouched slice of bread in my hands.

Four weeks.

My mom would've called by now. My dad would've booked the first flight to Scotland before anyone had the chance to tell him not to.

Tom- I swallowed hard. My brother would be helping organise searches. Calling hospitals. The police. Anyone who might have seen me. He'd have to tell his kids their aunt had disappeared.

Mateo would never forgive himself. He'd retrace every step we'd taken around the Fairy Pools. Bryan would keep telling him it wasn't his fault. Emma would probably be the practical one, making lists of places they'd already searched while Dylan quietly drove everyone wherever they needed to go. They'd all still be looking.

The thought hit with a force that stole the air from my lungs. Not because I doubted they'd search, but because they would never stop.

Not until someone told them to.

My vision blurred. "I'm here," I whispered into the empty kitchen. The words sounded impossibly small. "I'm alive." I laughed bitterly under my breath. "I'm in the Night Court. Which is in Prythian." No one heard them.

The sentence sounded completely absurd. If someone had said those words to me a month ago, I would've assumed they'd escaped from a psychiatric ward.

Across the room, Hendrick wandered sleepily into the kitchen, stretched until his front paws slid across the floor, then padded straight towards me. Without a sound, he rested his head against my knee.

I buried one hand in the soft fur behind his ears.

"I know," I whispered, though I wasn't sure whether I was speaking to him or myself.

Outside, the city carried on as though it were any other morning. Somewhere in another world, the people I loved were waking up without me yet again.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

I ate my toast and eggs before eventually carrying my empty plate back to the sink. "Thank you," I said again.

The tap turned on by itself almost immediately. "I was going to do that." It ignored me. A laugh escaped before I could stop it. "Fine."

The House had become strangely good at ending conversations before they started.

I wandered back upstairs with Hendrick padding quietly behind me. The room felt different in the daylight. Less overwhelming than it had that first morning I'd woken up here. The enormous windows no longer stole my attention quite so completely. The fireplace had become familiar. Even Azriel's books, stacked neatly on the shelves and scattered across his desk, no longer felt like someone else's belongings. Somehow, they had become part of the room I'd been waking up in every morning.

I wasn't sure when that had happened.

I stopped in front of the mirror. I'd spent the last week trying very hard not to look at my back. Partly because I was afraid of what I'd see, mostly because I wasn't convinced I'd be able to cope if what they'd told me was true.

Slowly, I turned sideways. The dress the House had found for me dipped low enough across my back that I could see almost everything. For a long moment, I stared. The angry redness had faded, replaced by skin stretched so tightly it almost looked translucent. Two raised ridges ran either side of my spine, far larger than they'd been only days ago. The skin had begun to split in places, not bleeding, just... opening.

My breath caught. Beneath the thin skin, something moved ever so slightly as I shifted my weight. Tiny, dark shapes pressed gently against the surface, connected by membranes so fine they caught the morning light. I couldn't tear my eyes away. They didn't look like wings. They looked fragile and unfinished, like something that had no business existing beneath my skin.

A strange pressure rolled across my back, and one of the tiny membranes trembled almost imperceptibly.

I froze.  My hand lifted on instinct. Just to touch it, just to convince myself it was real.

I stopped only inches away. What if it hurt? What if I damaged whatever was happening? Or worse... What if it felt exactly the way touching my own arm would?

My hand slowly fell back to my side.

I realised I was holding my breath. Behind me, Hendrick let out a quiet whine. I looked behind me through the mirror. He'd been watching me from the doorway, his head tilted slightly to one side. The moment our eyes met, he padded across the room without hesitation and leaned gently against my legs.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, and he rested his head in my lap before I even asked. Neither of us moved for a while. My fingers disappeared into the soft fur behind his ears automatically. "I don't know who I am anymore," I admitted quietly.

Hendrick sighed. The familiar weight of his head against my legs grounded me just enough to stop the tears from falling. For now.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The study at the River House was unusually quiet. Rhys stood beside the window overlooking the Sidra, a folder of reports tucked beneath one arm. Cassian leaned back in one of the chairs, boots propped shamelessly against the edge of the table until Nesta nudged them off without looking up from the book she'd brought with her. Feyre sat beside Rhys, absentmindedly sketching while she listened. Elain had disappeared into the garden hours ago, leaving only Amren lingering silently near the fireplace.

Azriel arrived last.

Rhys looked up.

"How is she?"

"Better."

"Physically?"

"The fever hasn't returned."

"And?"

Azriel frowned almost imperceptibly. "She's eating." Another pause. "Sleeping." He searched for the right word. "Adjusting."

Rhys watched him for a moment before asking quietly, "I wasn't asking for Madja's report."

Only then did Azriel realise he'd answered exactly like one.

"And the wings?"

He hesitated. "They're growing."

Rhys rubbed a hand across his jaw before opening the folder. "Then let's start with what we do know." Unfortunately, it wasn't much. "We've searched every map in the Night Court." Rhys glanced down at the reports. "Nothing resembling California or Scotland."

Cassian sighed. "The symbols on the dog's collar?"

Azriel shook his head. "She said it's called a phone number, people in her world can contact it if they find Hendrick-"

"Do you mean Sausage?" Cassian interrupted.

"That's not his name. And I don’t think the number is relevant."

Rhys closed one report before reaching for the next.

Azriel had spent most of the morning searching maps he'd already searched twice before. Every few minutes his thoughts drifted back upstairs. Had she drunk enough water? Was the House keeping her company? Had she looked at the wings again? He'd found himself checking the clock more than once. An annoying habit. Today, he kept wondering how much time remained before he returned to the House.

Nesta broke the silence. "Then look again." Rhys looked up. "You've already been inside her mind once." Nesta folded her arms. "If the answers are there, go back."

Azriel spoke before Rhys had the chance. "No." Every head turned towards him. Rhys remained silent, and Azriel managed to keep his voice even. "She woke terrified enough the first time."

"You don't know that had anything to do with Rhys," Nesta replied.

"No." He met her gaze. "But she trusted us. I'm not violating that trust until she is stable enough to agree."

Nesta studied him for a long moment before giving a single nod. "Fair."

The discussion drifted back into silence. Eventually Cassian leaned forward. "What about the camps?"

Azriel looked at him. Cassian shrugged. "Those scars. They have to mean something."

Rhys considered it. "There are elders who remember things the rest of us don't."

"And if someone recognises them..." Cassian continued.

Azriel answered immediately. "No."

The word landed harder than he'd intended.

Cassian frowned. "Why not?"

"Because rumours spread."

"So?"

"So they don't stop." Azriel rested his forearms on the table. "If people learn that an adult female's wings are suddenly developing..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, every Illyrian in the room understood.

Cassian's expression darkened. "Some bastard would try to claim her."

Something sharp tightened in Azriel's chest. The thought of strangers deciding her future - of frightened, half-grown wings becoming nothing more than another reason for Illyria to stake a claim - made something unexpectedly possessive flare inside him.

Not mine. The correction came immediately. His responsibility. That was all.

"Or control her," Azriel said quietly. "Or decide she belongs in one camp or another."

Rhys remained thoughtful. "She's vulnerable."

Azriel nodded once. "She doesn't understand our world, she can't defend herself, and she doesn't understand what those wings make her."

Silence followed. Finally Rhys closed the folder. "We wait."

Nobody objected. The meeting dissolved into quieter conversation, but Rhys remained where he was, watching Azriel as the others began to leave.

As the others drifted from the room, Rhys remained by the window. He'd watched Azriel spend months moving through each day as though it were another obligation to endure. Today was different. His brother had argued, interrupted, and objected. He'd cared. And not because the mystery interested him, but because a frightened female upstairs needed someone to.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Azriel returned shortly after midday. I heard the bedroom door open behind me before I looked up. Hendrick lifted his head immediately, tail thumping once against the floor before wandering over to greet him.

"Hey, buddy." Azriel crouched just long enough to scratch behind Hendrick's ears. The traitor practically melted into the attention.

"You spoil him."

"He lets me."

I smiled faintly.

He busied himself unbuckling Truth-Teller from his side before placing it carefully on the desk. His gloves followed, then the siphons strapped to his forearms. The familiar routine made the room feel strangely... lived in. As though I'd somehow become part of it. Only after everything had been put away did he look at me properly.

Only after everything had been put away did he look at me properly. His gaze lingered for barely a heartbeat.

Long enough. Something in his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He'd noticed. I didn't know what exactly, but he had. I suddenly became very interested in the book lying unopened in my lap.

"Hendrick needs a walk."

I blinked. "What?"

"He hasn't been out yet this afternoon."

"Oh." I glanced towards Hendrick, who looked between us hopefully.

"I take him twice a day." Azriel shook his head once. "Come with us."

I looked back down at the book. "I don't really feel like going anywhere today." Hendrick whined, as if understanding he would have to go out without me yet again.

"Okay." His answer came so quickly I almost looked up in surprise. "We'll leave in ten minutes."

I frowned. "That's not exactly how refusing works."

A corner of his mouth twitched. "So I've been told."

I let out a quiet sigh. "You know, most people would try convincing me."

"I know."

"You aren't going to?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He fastened another buckle onto the leather bracer he'd just removed, checking it almost absently before finally answering. "Because if I have to convince you, you've already decided not to come."

I frowned. "Have I?"

"I don't think so." There was no smugness in his voice. No challenge, just quiet certainty.

I looked down at Hendrick again. He'd abandoned pretending not to listen entirely and was now sitting between us, tail sweeping lazily across the floor every few seconds. "You've already put him on your side."

"I didn't."

"Hendrick did." As if understanding his name, Hendrick looked up at me and wagged harder. "Yes, you." His tail somehow sped up.

Azriel glanced at the dog before looking back at me. "We'll be back before dinner." It wasn't pressure, it wasn't even encouragement. Just information. I realised he wasn't trying to get me out of the House, he was giving me something to do, somewhere to be. For reasons I couldn't explain, that mattered.

I looked around the room. For the past week it had become my entire world. Maybe that was exactly the problem. I put down the book. "Fine."

"I know."

I narrowed my eyes. "You are unbelievably annoying."

"So I've been told."

Despite myself, I laughed. It was small, barely more than an exhale, but it was enough to make Hendrick jump to his feet, convinced laughter meant something exciting was about to happen. 

For the briefest moment, something eased in Azriel's expression. It was gone so quickly I couldn't have described it if I'd tried. But I'd seen it. It had almost looked like relief.

Azriel reached for the bedroom door. "I'll wait downstairs." 

He disappeared into the hallway before I could answer. I stared after him for a moment before shaking my head. "He's impossible." Hendrick barked once before hurrying after him. "Don't encourage him!"

Five minutes later, I found myself changing into a clean dress. I paused halfway through fastening the buttons.

He'd barely even asked. And yet somehow... I was going. I shook my head at myself. Apparently, I was going for a walk.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

For a moment I couldn't do anything except breathe. The nausea came in waves. My stomach still hadn't decided whether I was standing still or moving, and my legs felt strangely disconnected from the rest of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning. "Does it always feel like that?"

"Usually the first time you winnow." Azriel said. "It gets easier."

"I sincerely hope so."

Beside us, Hendrick was already sniffing enthusiastically at a flower bed, completely unfazed by the fact we'd apparently just folded reality in half. "I hate him a little."

"You'll recover."

"Him or me?"

"The answer's the same."

I huffed a quiet laugh. The dizziness slowly began to fade. Only then did I realise Azriel hadn't moved away. He'd given me space after steadying me, but he was still standing close enough that if my knees decided to give out again, he could catch me before I hit the ground.

He wasn't watching me. He was watching everything else, people passing, rooftops, mouths of nearby streets. He looked alert, like he was waiting for something. As if making sure nothing interrupted the few moments I needed to find my footing.

When I finally nodded, he looked back at me. "Better?"

"A little."

He simply inclined his head. "We'll take it slowly." He didn't ask whether I needed more time, but simply started walking slowly as though there had never been any other plan.

I took one last deep breath before looking around, the marketplace buzzed with life around us.

For the first time since arriving in Prythian, I wasn't looking at it through a window.

Everything moved. People wandered between market stalls with woven baskets tucked beneath their arms. A woman laughed as she bartered over a bouquet of wildflowers. Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a fiddle, the melody carrying above the quiet hum of conversation. The scent of fresh bread drifted through the square, mingling with roasted chestnuts, spices I couldn't name and the sweet perfume of jasmine climbing the stone buildings. It looked normal.

That was somehow the strangest part. There were no soldiers marching through the streets, or dramatic displays of magic, no monsters lurking around corners. Just people living.

A little girl darted past us, giggling as her father pretended he couldn't catch her. Two elderly women argued cheerfully over whose turn it was to carry the shopping basket. A baker leaned out of his doorway to wave at someone across the street.

It could almost have been Edinburgh if I ignored the pointed ears. And the fact I'd arrived here by disappearing into... whatever that had been.

My head turned from one street to the next, trying to take everything in at once. It was impossible. The colours felt brighter, the sounds sharper, even the air smelled cleaner than I was used to.

Someone brushed gently past my shoulder. I flinched before I could stop myself.

"Sorry!" the stranger called over his shoulder.

I nodded automatically, though he was already gone. By the time I looked back up, Azriel had stopped walking. He hadn't gone far. I realised I'd unconsciously been matching his pace.

"You alright?"

I nodded. I searched for the right word. "It's a lot."

His gaze swept briefly across the busy street before returning to me. "It is."

He didn't tell me I'd get used to it, or say it wasn't that bad. He waited until I stepped beside him again before continuing. Without thinking, I matched his pace and moved a little closer. Not enough that our arms touched, but close enough that I no longer felt like I was navigating the crowd alone. The knot between my shoulders loosened, I hadn't realised how tense I'd been until then.

People continued to greet him as we walked. "Morning, Azriel." An elderly male with silver threaded through his dark hair raised a hand from outside a little bookshop.

Azriel nodded. "Good morning."

A young courier weaving through the crowd nearly collided with him before stopping short. "Sorry, Shadowsinger."

Azriel stepped aside without the slightest hint of annoyance. "You're alright." The boy thanked him and hurried on. No one seemed surprised to find him there, they simply expected him here.

It became almost rhythmic. A wave, a nod, a brief exchange.

The owner of a tailor's shop, a pair of priestesses carrying armfuls of books, two older males playing some sort of board game outside a café. Everyone seemed to know him. Some looked afraid, but I couldn't blame them, he looked intimidating as hell.

I'd spent the last few weeks seeing Azriel almost entirely inside the House of Wind. Quiet, reserved, watching. Out here, he was still all of those things, but this version of him seemed to fit in. He knew where to go without thinking, which baker would already have sold out for the day, and which children had become obsessed with Hendrick.

"You've lived here a long time?" I asked.

"A very long time."

I looked around again. "It suits you." I wasn't entirely sure why I'd said it. Maybe because it was true. For the first time since I'd met him, he didn't look like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He just looked like he was home.

He glanced sideways at me, almost as if the comment had surprised him. Before he could answer, Hendrick stopped dead in the middle of the street, nose pressed enthusiastically against a flower box.

A laugh escaped me. "So much for staying close."

"He has his priorities."

"I've noticed."

Hendrick sneezed dramatically, then bounded after us as though he'd never delayed us at all. For the first time since we'd left the House, I realised I hadn't been thinking about home. Not for several minutes. I'd been watching the city instead.

Listening to the conversations around me, watching Hendrick greet strangers as though he'd lived here his entire life, walking beside Azriel.

The realization settled heavily in my chest. I wasn't sure whether that felt comforting or guilty.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Winnowing for the second time did feel a lot more comfortable, just like he had said.

Azriel took off his boots before absentmindedly moving towards the kitchen. Only then did it occur to me. "You've been sleeping on the couch in your room this whole time."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes."

"For nearly a month."

"Yes."

I looked to the staircase leading to his room. It suddenly seemed absurd. I'd spent weeks worrying about myself, about my wings, about getting home. Somehow, I'd never stopped to wonder where Azriel disappeared to every night. "Then I'll move."

He frowned slightly. "Move?"

"There have to be other bedrooms in this place."

"There are."

"So I'll take one of those and you can have your room back."

He was quiet for a moment. "No."

I blinked. "...No?"

"I'd rather you stayed where you are."

"Why?"

He looked towards the staircase before answering. "You're only just beginning to settle."

I frowned. "I'd settle somewhere else."

"Maybe." He shrugged lightly. "Or maybe you'd spend another week trying to get used to a different room." I opened my mouth to argue. He continued before I could. "Hendrick already knows where to find everything." I looked down at the golden retriever, who was now snoring loud enough for both of us to hear with his stuffed bat between his paws. "You've both started sleeping through the night."

That stopped me. I hadn't realised he'd noticed. Of course he had. He seemed to notice everything.

"I don't want to change what's working." He continued. The words were practical, reasonable, completely difficult to argue with.

Part of me still wanted to, not because I thought he was wrong but because it felt unfair. I'd arrived here with nothing. And somehow, without ever asking, he'd quietly rearranged his life around me. "I still don't like it."

"I know."

"You deserve your own bed."

"I'll survive."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

I studied him for a moment. His expression hadn't changed, there was no irritation or impatience. Just that same quiet certainty he'd had ever since I'd woken up in this place.

He'd already decided. I was only just catching up.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then he walked out of the room and into the kitchen. Conversation apparently over.

I watched him disappear into the kitchen and found myself smiling despite myself. He really was impossible.

I followed him anyway. I leaned against the doorway. "You know that's not how conversations work either."

"It usually is."

"I hadn't finished."

"I know."

The kettle began to whistle, the House quietly placed two mugs on the counter. Azriel glanced at them. "So did the House."

I couldn't help smiling. "You've both decided I'm impossible today."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

He poured the tea, and the House slid a small jar of honey across the counter towards me. "I think it likes me."

"It likes everyone."

"I don't believe you."

A spoon appeared beside my mug before either of us reached for one, Azriel picked it up without comment.

We settled into opposite ends of the sofa, the fire crackling softly between us.

For a long while, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't awkward anymore, it had become familiar. Safe. I wrapped both hands around the mug, grateful for the warmth.

Azriel watched the flames. Then, quietly- "Can I ask you something?"

I looked up. "Depends."

"On?"

"What you're asking."

He nodded once, as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer. "Can I ask you about your world?"

I hesitated. "I don't know how much help I'll be."

"I'm not expecting answers."

"What are you expecting?"

He considered that. "Perspective."

I smiled faintly. "Okay."

Another brief silence settled before he asked, "What do you miss most?"

I looked into my tea. "The ordinary things," He didn't speak. "I miss deciding what to have for dinner."

That earned the smallest furrow of his brow.

I laughed quietly. "I know. It sounds ridiculous."

"It doesn't."

"I miss complaining about work with Mateo." I smiled into my mug. "I miss traffic."

"You miss... traffic?"

"I know."

"You've mentioned this Mateo several times."

"He's my best friend."

"The one you lived with."

I nodded. "He always left cupboard doors open."

Azriel blinked. "That bothered you?"

"Every single day."

"Why didn't you close them?"

"I did."

"Then why was it a problem?"

"Because he kept opening them again."

For the first time all evening, genuine confusion crossed Azriel's face. "...Intentionally?"

"No. He just... forgot to close them."

Azriel stared at me. "Repeatedly."

"Yes."

A thoughtful silence. "That would be irritating."

"It was." I smiled despite myself. "I'd walk into the kitchen and there'd be three cupboard doors open, one drawer half pulled out and he'd be making coffee like nothing was wrong."

Azriel looked genuinely baffled. "I don't understand how that's possible."

"I don't either."

For a moment, all I could picture was Mateo humming to himself while absentmindedly leaving the entire kitchen open behind him. The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "I'd give anything to close one more cupboard door." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Silence settled between us again, this time heavier. Azriel didn't offer reassurance, didn't tell me everything would be alright. Somehow that helped more than false hope ever could.

The fire crackled softly between us. Outside, evening settled over Velaris.

"We're still looking." His voice was quiet enough that I almost missed it. I looked over. He was still watching the flames. "Every day." There wasn't an ounce of false confidence in his voice. Just certainty. "We haven't found anything yet."

I nodded. "I know."

Another silence settled.

He let it. Then- "Can I ask you something else?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"What you're asking."

He nodded once. "If you don't feel up to it..." He paused. "...that's alright." I waited. "But I'd like to hear about that day."

Just hear about it. The way he said it wasn’t probing, just genuinely interested, and something in my chest loosened, making it easier, safer, to keep going, to actually speak.

"I don't remember much."

"You don't have to."

I looked down into my mug. "I remember the Fairy Pools, the waterfalls, the water was freezing." I smiled faintly. Azriel listened without interrupting. "I remember Hendrick refusing to stay on shore. He jumped in after Mateo." I looked into the fire. "There was a rock arch beneath the water, and I swam underneath it, just like everybody else." I frowned. "Or..." I shook my head. "I thought I did."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." I squeezed the mug a little tighter. "It sounds stupid."

"It won't."

I drew a slow breath. "It felt..." I searched for the words. "...wrong."

"The water?"

"No."

"The world."

He remained silent.

"It was like..." I frowned. "Everything shifted, for just a second. I remember thinking something wasn't right. And then..." I looked up. "I was here."

Neither of us spoke. Eventually Azriel nodded. "That's useful."

I laughed quietly. "I don't see how."

"Sometimes people remember ordinary things first." He looked back into the fire. "The important memories come later."

I considered that. "I hope you're right."

"So do I." Another pause. "There's something else."

I looked at him. He hesitated, just briefly. "If you ever wanted to..." He chose his next words carefully. "...Rhys might be able to see what you can't remember."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

"He can enter memories."

"My memories?"

"If you allow him."

I stared into my tea. "He wouldn't just..."

"No." The answer came immediately. "Not without your permission."

I looked over at him. "You'd make sure of that?"

For the first time that evening, he met my eyes. "Yes."

I did so much research on vampire bat foetuses for this fic back in the day it's honestly hilarious (I have ADHD can you tell?).

The Motherlist

Please refer to the masterlist for warnings. This story is 18+

It had been three weeks since the stranger had first opened her eyes screaming. Three weeks since Madja had recognised the impossible, tiny wing buds had begun pushing through old scars that should never have existed in the first place.

Azriel found himself sitting through yet another morning meeting around the dining table. Although 'meeting' felt generous, it had become an excuse for everyone to check on the female sleeping one floor above them.

Sausage certainly treated it that way. The golden animal lay sprawled beneath Azriel's chair, one paw resting across his boot as if to make sure he wouldn't disappear without permission.

Cassian looked down and snorted into his tea. "I still can't get over that."

Azriel didn't bother looking up from his plate. "What?"

"You."

"What about me?"

Cassian pointed beneath the table. "You've got a dog."

"I don't."

"You absolutely do."

"He isn't mine." Sausage chose that exact moment to roll onto his back, exposing his stomach directly beside Azriel's chair.

Cassian burst into laughter. "He seems to disagree."

Without even thinking about it, Azriel reached down and absently scratched Sausage's belly. Silence settled around the table, and he froze.

Cassian wore the most insufferable grin imaginable. "I see."

Azriel slowly withdrew his hand. "I wasn't-"

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You gave him belly rubs."

Mor hid her smile behind her mug, and looking over to her he noticed even Amren looked vaguely entertained.

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't like any of you."

"You love us," Cassian replied cheerfully.

Sausage huffed contentedly before settling back down against Azriel's boot. Rhys chose that moment to enter the room alongside Feyre. "Morning."

"Morning," everyone echoed.

Rhys took one look beneath the table. "I see we've accepted defeat."

"He has," Cassian corrected.

Azriel decided saying nothing was safer.

Rhys waited until everyone had settled before speaking. "Madja should be here shortly."

As though summoned by his words, the healer appeared in the doorway carrying several weathered books beneath one arm. "They weren't easy to find."

Cassian eyed the stack. "They look older than you."

Madja ignored him. She spread the books carefully across the table before taking the remaining seat. "I've spent the last week going through every record we have concerning Illyrian pregnancies."

Azriel immediately sat a little straighter. "And?"

Madja folded her hands together. "I still don't know why this is happening." Not the answer anyone had hoped for. "But..." She opened one of the books, revealing delicate anatomical sketches drawn centuries ago. "I do know that whatever is happening is progressing normally."

Rhys frowned. "Normally?"

She turned the book towards them. "These illustrations show fetal wing development."

Cassian leaned closer. "I didn't know anyone had ever drawn this."

"Very few have." Madja traced one illustration with a finger. She flipped several pages. "Three weeks…"

Everyone looked down. The sketch showed little more than elongated limb buds extending from the shoulder region of an unborn infant. Not wings. Not yet. Simply beginnings.

Madja looked around the table. "If I didn't know better..." She hesitated. "...I'd say her body believes it is growing the wings of an unborn Illyrian child." No one spoke, even Cassian seemed unable to find a joke. Madja continued quietly. "At this stage the bones are beginning to lengthen. The cartilage is forming first, followed by the earliest membranes. They're still extremely delicate."

Azriel found himself picturing the raised ridges beneath her shoulder blades. They'd grown noticeably over the past week. They were longer, more defined, and darker. He'd noticed every change.

"They're still incredibly fragile," Madja went on. "Any prolonged pressure could damage them."

Rhys looked up. "What does that mean?"

"It means she cannot lie on her back anymore." The words landed heavily. Madja continued. "The House has already adjusted her mattress to keep pressure away from them while she's unconscious, but once she's awake..." She looked directly at Azriel. "...she'll instinctively roll over in her sleep."

His jaw tightened. "We'll stop her."

Madja nodded once. "You will have to." She closed the book. "And she cannot carry anything heavy. Nothing resting across her shoulders until the wings are fully formed."

Azriel's mind immediately leapt ahead. If she tried to leave, if she fell, if someone grabbed her- His stomach twisted.

Cassian noticed. "You okay?"

Azriel blinked. "Fine."

Rhys watched him over the rim of his cup. He wasn't fooled.

Madja reached for another book. "There are a few more things." She opened it to another sketch. "Over the next several weeks you'll begin seeing the membranes stretch between the elongated fingers. They won't be strong enough for flight for quite some time, but they will become increasingly sensitive."

Feyre studied the page. "So they're... actually becoming wings."

"Yes."

"They're not simply appearing."

"No." Madja's expression softened. "They're growing."

The distinction somehow made it stranger. This wasn't magic forcing wings into existence overnight, her body had simply started where it should have begun before birth.

Rhys broke the silence. "Any progress on where she came from?"

Azriel shook his head before anyone else could answer. "Gwyn has spent the better part of the last three weeks in the library."

"And?"

"Nothing." He leaned back in his chair. "She still hasn't figured out what the numbers on Sausage's collar mean. She tried every language, every code, every numerical system the library had records of."

"Nothing?" Mor asked.

"Nothing."

"And California?" Feyre asked.

Azriel shook his head again. "No mention."

"Scotland?"

"No."

"Anywhere?"

"It doesn't exist." Silence settled over the table once more. "Not just on maps," Azriel continued quietly. "We've searched histories, trade records, geographical texts, even the oldest archives beneath the library." His gaze drifted briefly toward the ceiling. "It's as though the places Rhys saw simply don't exist."

No one seemed to know what to do with that. Beneath the table, Sausage shifted closer until his side rested firmly against Azriel's leg. Almost unconsciously, Azriel's fingers found the dog's head again.

This time no one commented. Rhys watched the movement, and then quietly asked the question that had been sitting in everyone's mind. "And when they finish growing?"

Madja met his eyes. "I suspect..." She glanced toward the ceiling, toward the room where the stranger still slept. "...that all of our questions are only just beginning. But if all goes well they should work like regular Illyrian wings."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The first thing I noticed was that the room was brighter. Sunlight spilled across the wooden floor, warming the blankets that had somehow found their way around me. For several long moments I simply lay there, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. It hadn't changed since last time. The carved beams were still there, a fireplace still crackled softly somewhere to my left. And through the enormous window, mountains still stretched into the distance.

I let out a slow breath. "Damn." Apparently I was still hallucinating.

My back burned. Not like before, not that unbearable, blinding agony that had made me think my body was being torn apart from the inside. This was different. A constant sting, like badly sunburnt skin or a healing wound that had decided to itch at exactly the wrong moment.

Carefully, I shifted onto one elbow. It didn't hurt, I only felt the persistent pulling sensation between my shoulder blades. A small victory. "Okay..." My voice sounded hoarse. "That's something." I looked around the room again. There was nothing I could find that remotely explained where I was. 

"Hendrick?" Silence. My stomach dropped. "Henny?"

Nothing. I sat upright much faster than I should have, the movement sending another sharp sting across my upper back, but it wasn't enough to stop me. "Hendrick?"

The room remained painfully quiet. A dozen possibilities rushed through my head all at once. Maybe Mateo had found him, or Animal Control had taken him.

I swallowed hard. He'd been here. I remembered him. Not clearly, just flashes of golden fur and wet kisses. Unless that had been part of the hallucination too.

I shook my head. He was here. He had to be.

I threw the blankets aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The wooden floor was cool beneath my feet. For the first time, I noticed I wasn't wearing my own clothes. Instead someone had dressed me in a soft linen shirt that hung almost to my knees.

Not creepy at all. "Fantastic." I rubbed both hands over my face. "Either I've joined some weird historical reenactment society against my will," I looked around once more. "or I'm actually insane."

Neither option seemed particularly encouraging. The sting between my shoulder blades returned sharper this time, almost itchy.

Instinctively, I reached behind me. My fingertips brushed swollen skin. I hissed. "What the fuck."

There was a mirror standing against the far wall. For several seconds I debated ignoring it. If this really was a hallucination, I wasn't sure I wanted confirmation.

Curiosity won. It always did. I crossed the room slowly, trying not to aggravate whatever was happening to my back.

The woman staring back at me looked exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, hair resembling a bird's nest. Definitely not my best look. Turning carefully, I pulled up the shirt and looked over one shoulder.

The scars were... different. Two raised ridges stretched from either side of my spine, several inches long now, pushing gently beneath reddened skin.

They curved backwards slightly, almost following the shape of shoulder blades. Only shoulder blades weren't supposed to stick out like that.

I stared. "Huh." I turned a little further. I reached back carefully, fingertips brushing one of the swollen ridges. A sharp sting shot through my back. I yelped, jerking my hand away. "...Ow."

Then, because apparently my brain had decided this was the appropriate response I laughed. A short, disbelieving laugh. "Right." Another laugh escaped me. "This is officially the weirdest nervous breakdown anyone has ever had."

The reflection didn't argue. It just continued staring back at me with increasingly concerning bumps growing out of its back.

I looked towards the bedroom door. If I was being held here, they probably would've locked it. Wouldn't they? I crossed the room cautiously and pushed the door open. There seemed to be no lock, no chains and nobody guarding me. There was just an empty, quiet hallway.

I looked back once more at the room. "Hendrick?"

Still nothing. My chest tightened. If he really had been here before... Maybe he'd wandered out. I squared my shoulders and immediately regretted it when the skin across my back protested. "Hendrick," I muttered to myself. "I'm coming." And with that, I stepped into the hallway.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The hallway was just as strange as the bedroom. Dark wooden floors stretched in both directions, polished enough to reflect the morning light pouring through enormous arched windows. Paintings hung neatly along the stone walls. Landscapes. Mountains. A river that looked oddly familiar. Everything was beautiful. Whoever owned this place had excellent taste. Also, apparently, an unhealthy obsession with fireplaces.

I walked slowly, one hand trailing lightly along the wall as much to steady myself as to reassure myself that it was, in fact, solid.

It was. Which was mildly disappointing. Hallucinations weren't usually this committed to the bit.

"Hendrick?" My voice disappeared into the silence.

The hallway curved gently before opening into another corridor. More doors followed. I frowned. "Where the hell am I?" The question echoed softly back to me. Helpful.

I tried another door. Locked.

The next one opened onto what looked like a library. Books lined every wall from floor to ceiling, interrupted only by ladders that disappeared somewhere above my head. I stepped inside for only a moment. The books looked old. Really old. Most of the titles meant absolutely nothing to me. Several weren't even written in an alphabet I recognised. "Cool." I quietly closed the door again. Definitely a hallucination. A very vivid hallucination.

My back prickled again. The stinging wasn't getting worse. If anything it almost felt as though something beneath my skin shifted whenever I moved. I stopped walking. I refused to unpack that thought. One existential crisis at a time.

"Hendrick?" The knot in my stomach tightened. I'd raised him since he was barely big enough to climb onto my couch. He hated being alone. If he'd somehow gotten lost in this absurd castle- Was this a castle? It certainly felt like one. The ceilings were at least twice the height of my apartment. Maybe three times.

I continued down another corridor. At least nobody had tried to stop me. Which was good? Probably? Unless they simply know I couldn't escape anyway. That thought was significantly less comforting.

A staircase appeared ahead, downward into the rest of the building. I hesitated. Every horror film I'd ever watched suddenly felt incredibly relevant. Never go to downstairs. Never investigate strange noises. Never- A bark.

My head snapped up. "...Hendrick?" Another bark. It sounded faint, like it came from somewhere below me. Relief flooded through my chest so quickly my knees almost gave out. "Oh thank God."

Without thinking, I hurried towards the staircase, immediately regretting it, the movement pulling sharply at the skin across my back. I slowed to a much more dignified pace. "Jesus Christ."

The barking came again. It was definitely Hendrick. He sounded excited. Not frightened.

The staircase opened onto another hallway. Unlike upstairs, this part of the building felt more lived in. The smell hit me first, fresh bread, tea, something sweet. Voices drifted through the air. Several people were laughing and talking over one another.

For the first time since waking up I realised I wasn't alone. My heartbeat quickened. Whoever these people were, they'd apparently dressed me. Looked after me. And, hopefully... Fed my dog. I wasn't entirely sure whether that was reassuring or deeply concerning.

The voices became clearer as I rounded another corner. A man's voice. Another. A woman laughing. Someone mentioned... Sausage? I frowned. What an odd thing to be discussing so passionately.

Then a familiar bark, louder this time. Followed by the unmistakable sound of claws scrambling across a wooden floor.

"Hendrick?!"

Everything went quiet, every voice stopping at once. I rounded the final corner, and found eight strangers staring straight at me.

And Hendrick- Hendrick launched himself at me like a cannonball made of fur and pure, unfiltered joy.

“Hey- oof!” I barely had time to brace before he collided with my legs, tail whipping so hard it was basically a blur. He let out a series of frantic, happy barks, circling me once, twice, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

Then he tried to climb me. Which, given his size compared to mine, was ambitious at best and catastrophic at worst. “Hendrick, buddy- okay- okay, I’m here, I’m here!” He ignored me completely, pressing his head into my stomach, whining in relief like I’d been gone for years instead of… whatever this was.

One of the strangers made a sound - something between a cough and a laugh - but no one moved. They were still staring. I, meanwhile, was trying not to get knocked over by a very emotional, very large Hendrick.

A hand settled at my back. Steady. Firm. Not pushing, just anchoring. I stiffened for half a second before the pressure adjusted, subtly shifting my balance so I stayed upright even as Hendrick continued his enthusiastic assault.

A man stood just behind me. My head snapped in his direction, he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him through the air, shadows curling faintly at his shoulders like they belonged there. I quickly looked away. Another thing to unpack later.

“Easy,” he said quietly, not to me, but to Hendrick. Hendrick paused just long enough to look up at him. Then immediately went back to trying to smother me with affection.

His hand didn’t move. Neither did I. And somehow, despite everything happening at once, I didn’t fall over.

For a while, the only sound in the room was Hendrick's increasingly enthusiastic attempts to climb into my lap. I buried my face briefly against the side of his neck, relief washing through me so intensely it almost made me dizzy. "You're okay," I whispered. He answered by licking my chin. "Yeah, I missed you too."

A chuckle came from somewhere across the room. I looked up, eight pairs of eyes were still fixed on me.

Right. That.

The dark-haired man behind me quietly removed his hand from my back, taking a small step away as though realising only then that he was still holding me upright.

I turned fully towards the strangers. Nobody looked threatening. If anything, several of them looked relieved.

Another one with dark hair stepped forward first. His eyes were... purple. And he had wings too. Apparently that wasn't unusual around here.

"I'm glad to see you're awake." His voice was calm. Measured. "My name is Rhysand."

I stared. "Right."  A beat of silence. Then I suddenly remembered they did not know my name either and mumbled it under my breath.

"You can call me Rhys."

"That somehow makes it sound slightly less insane." 

Something that looked suspiciously like amusement flickered across his face. "Fair enough." He gestured around the room. "My mate, Feyre."

The woman beside him smiled warmly. "Hello."

"The loud one is Cassian."

"I prefer charming," Cassian objected.

"Nobody else does."

Cassian placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "I've been wounded."

"No," another female replied dryly from beside him. "Unfortunately not."

He sighed dramatically. "See what I put up with?"

Despite myself, a small laugh escaped me. Mostly because he looked genuinely offended.

Rhys continued. "My brother, Azriel."

The dark-haired man I'd bumped into inclined his head slightly. He gave a quiet hello. I recognised the voice, he was the one that had told me I was safe. The one I'd assumed was part of my hallucination. I guess not.

Rhys continued introducing everyone. "Mor."

She smiled brightly. "It's nice to finally meet you conscious."

I blinked. "That’s fair."

"Nesta."

She offered a small nod. "Hello."

"Elain." 

A gentle smile. "I'm making tea." Nobody had asked, but she disappeared into the kitchen anyway. I watched her go. 

"I like her."

Cassian grinned. "Everyone likes Elain."

Rhys gestured towards the tiny silver-haired female sitting comfortably at the end of the table. "And Amren."

She studied me with unsettling intensity. "Hm."

"Is that my introduction?"

"It is."

"Okay." I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, Hendrick chose that moment to shove his nose insistently beneath my hand. Priorities. I scratched absentmindedly behind his ears.

Cassian looked between us. "So..." He pointed at the dog. "His name's not Sausage."

I frowned. "...What?"

"We've been calling him Sausage."

I stared. "You've..." Another pause. "...you've been calling my dog Sausage?"

Cassian nodded proudly. "He really likes sausage."

"As it turns out," Mor added helpfully.

I looked down at Hendrick. He wagged happily. "You let them call you Sausage?" His only response was another enthusiastic lick across my hand. "Traitor."

Cassian laughed. "I told you he'd answer to it."

"He answers to food."

"Exactly."

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. "I disappeared into..." I gestured vaguely around the room. "...wherever this is, and my dog got renamed."

"Seems accurate."

Another laugh escaped me. It disappeared almost as quickly. The room, the wings, the clothes, the mountains outside. The laughter slowly faded from my face. I looked back towards Rhys. "...Okay." Nobody interrupted. "I appreciate that none of you appear to have murdered me."

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "High praise."

"But..." I swallowed. "...can somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?"

The room fell quiet again. Rhys glanced briefly towards Feyre. She understood immediately. Without a word, she stepped forward.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The conversation that followed felt like trying to explain colour to someone who had been born blind. There were words, a lot of them. Prythian, the Night Court, magic, fae. None of them meant anything to me.

At one point I became so overwhelmed I genuinely laughed, because apparently my options were either laugh or cry. I barely chose laughing.

Feyre never once looked at me like I was stupid. She answered every question I threw at her, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Yes, the wings were real.

No, I wasn't dreaming.

No, I wasn't dead.

No, they didn't know how I had arrived here.

No, they had never heard of Scotland. Or California. Or Earth. That last one had broken something inside me. Earth. They'd looked at me blankly. As though I'd made the place up.

Eventually, words stopped making sense altogether. Rhys seemed to notice. "I think that's enough for today."  Nobody argued. "I'll show you back to your room." 

Before I could answer, Azriel quietly pushed his chair back. "I will."

Rhys looked at him. A brief, silent conversation passed between them. Then Rhys nodded. "Very well."

I wasn't sure why that seemed significant.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

We walked in silence. Well... he walked, I shuffled. My back still stung every time my shoulders moved.

The hallway seemed much shorter this time, probably because I wasn't wandering around looking for my dog. Hendrick padded happily between us, carrying what appeared to be a stuffed bat almost as large as his head. I frowned. "Is that yours?"

Azriel glanced down. "The House gave it to him."

"The..." I sighed. "Right." The House. Sure.

We continued another few steps. "So..." My voice echoed softly through the corridor. "Those are real?"

He looked sideways at me. "My wings?"

"Unless you secretly wear decorative ones."

A pause.

"They're real."

"Huh." Silence again. I risked another glance. They really were enormous. Dark and elegant. They reminded me of bat wings. They were folded neatly behind him as naturally as someone carrying their own arms. "Can they move?"

He looked genuinely puzzled. "Yes."

"I mean..." I gestured vaguely. "...independently."

"They're part of me."

"...That's incredibly cool."

He blinked. Apparently that hadn't been the response he'd expected.

"I mean," I hurried to explain, "it's completely terrifying." Another few steps. "But still..." I looked at them again. "...really cool."

Something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile, but close enough that I wondered whether I'd imagined it.

The bedroom door appeared ahead, Azriel opened it for me. I stepped inside before turning back towards him. The room suddenly felt much larger than it had this morning.

Quieter. "I..." The words caught in my throat. He waited. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do." About any of it. Home, my family, my job. The things growing out of my back. None of it made sense anymore.

Azriel didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was as steady as it had been every other time I'd heard it. "You don't have to do anything today."

I looked at him.

"Just rest."

"That's it?"

"For now."

The simplicity of the answer eased something inside my chest. Just enough. I nodded slowly. "Thank you."

He inclined his head once and then turned to leave.

"Azriel?" 

He stopped in the doorway. "Yeah?" His brows lifted almost imperceptibly. Apparently he'd forgotten that I'd only just learned his name.

I swallowed. "What if I wake up tomorrow..." I looked down at Hendrick, now happily chewing on his stuffed bat. "And all of this is still real?"

When I looked back up, Azriel hadn't moved. "I think it will be."

I let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. "That wasn't the answer I was hoping for."

"No." A beat passed. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "But you won't have to figure it out alone."  He closed the door quietly behind him. 

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Outside, Azriel remained standing in the hallway for a long moment. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd said that. She was a responsibility. A mystery. Someone Rhys had asked him to look after until they found answers, nothing more. Yet as he stared at the closed door, he found himself listening. For pain. For a cry that she had rolled onto her back.

His shadows had already drifted beneath the door before he realised he'd let them.

Another day another one from the drafts! This is actually the first Azriel one-shot I ever wrote (bear with me, it's been years). I proofread it but I can't say it was very thorough.

The Motherlist

Summary: young Azriel has never struggled to find someone for the night. Realizing he's unknowingly spent months choosing the same person instead comes as far more of a shock to him than to anyone else in Windhaven.

Content Warnings: references to casual sex, kissing, mild profanity, Az being an idiot

Windhaven never truly slept. Even before dawn had fully broken over the mountains, the training rings echoed with the crack of wooden swords, barked orders, and the unmistakable sound of Illyrians trying to beat the pride out of one another. By midday, the smell of sweat had been replaced with roasting meat and cheap ale drifting from the tavern near the barracks, where warriors nursed bruises with the same enthusiasm they collected them.

Azriel sat with his boots propped on the weathered table outside, lazily spinning a dagger between scarred fingers.

Across from him, Cassian was in the middle of a story that had somehow become louder with every retelling.

"I'm telling you," he insisted, gesturing so wildly a splash of ale landed on Rhys's sleeve, "she asked me to stay."

Rhys looked down at the damp stain before fixing Cassian with the driest look imaginable. "Did she?"

"She did."

"Did she use the words stay, or did she ask you to leave through the window because her father had come home?"

Cassian frowned. "...That feels unnecessarily specific."

"Because it's exactly what happened."

"It is not."

"It happened exactly like that."

Azriel snorted into his drink.

Cassian pointed an accusing finger at him. "You. Stop encouraging him."

"I haven't said anything."

"Your face did."

"My face?"

"You have an insufferable face."

"I've been told."

Rhys leaned back in his chair, one corner of his mouth lifting. "By how many females this week?"

Cassian barked out a laugh. "There are too many to count."

Azriel shrugged one shoulder, completely unbothered. "I wasn't counting."

"That's the problem."

"It isn't a problem."

"It is for them."

A passing group of young warriors greeted Rhys with respectful nods. Cassian received a grin and a crude gesture. Azriel barely looked up before one of the females walking past offered him a smile that lingered just a second too long. He acknowledged her with a polite dip of his head. She nearly walked into a fence.

Cassian waited until she disappeared around the corner before throwing both hands into the air. "See?"

"I saw someone walking."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I don't."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "He's pretending."

"I'm not pretending."

Cassian groaned. "You're impossible."

"I've heard that."

"You leave every female before sunrise."

"They're asleep."

"Exactly!"

"I don't like waking people."

Rhys laughed into his drink. "That's remarkably considerate of you."

"I try."

Cassian stared at him. "I genuinely can't decide if you're an idiot or a genius."

"I've been called both."

"By the same female?"

"Probably."

Rhys shook his head. "The camps are going to invent songs about you at this rate."

"I hope not."

"They already have," Cassian informed him with great satisfaction.

Azriel finally looked up. "They what?"

"Oh, you've not heard it?"

"No."

Cassian cleared his throat dramatically. "'Beware the Shadowsinger-'"

Azriel threw a piece of bread at him, striking Cassian squarely in the forehead.

Rhys laughed outright.

Cassian picked the bread up from his lap. "Violence."

"You deserved it."

"I hadn't even reached the chorus."

"I wasn't going to let you."

Cassian stuffed the bread into his mouth anyway.

๑ºั . 

Word traveled quickly through Windhaven. Too quickly.

It only took one female leaving a room before dawn for someone to notice. Two made people curious. Three turned into whispers. By the time the stories had crossed every training ring and tavern, Azriel's reputation had become something almost mythical.

The Shadowsinger. Beautiful, dangerous, and always gone before sunrise. Never staying, never promising anything he wouldn't give. 

Half the camp flirted with him whenever he appeared. The other half declared they'd sooner jump off Ramiel than become another one of his conquests. Azriel, for his part, seemed blissfully unaware of either group.

Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"Didn't you leave with Evelyn last night?" Rhys asked casually.

Azriel took another sip of ale. "Mm."

"And the night before?"

He thought about it. "...I'm not sure."

Cassian stared. "You don't know?"

"I know."

"So?"

"I don't remember if it was the night before."

Cassian looked scandalized. "You don't remember?"

"I remember the evening."

"The female, Az."

"I remember her."

"Her name?"

Azriel was quiet for just a beat too long. Cassian slapped the table triumphantly. "You don't know!"

"I do."

"What is it?"

Silence.

Rhys covered a laugh with his hand. 

"I know the first letter. Something with an 'L'."

Cassian threw his head back toward the sky. "Mother save us."

"You asked."

"I asked because I thought there was no possible way-"

"There was." Before Cassian could continue, a familiar voice called from behind them. "I leave you three alone for ten minutes and somehow you've become pigs again."

All three turned. Pebble walked up, balancing a bundle of practice blades against one shoulder. They'd started calling her that after she'd spent an entire summer collecting smooth stones from the Sidra during one of Rhys's visits to Velaris. The habit had disappeared. The nickname hadn't.

Cassian immediately placed a hand over his heart. "We're having an intellectual discussion."

"About what?"

"The complexities of romance."

She looked between the three of them. Then at the empty ale bottles scattered across the table. "I'll revise my statement."

Cassian gasped. "You wound me."

"I was aiming for your pride."

"You found it."

Rhys chuckled as she set the blades down beside the table. "You've returned just in time."

"For what?"

"Azriel discovering he doesn't know the names of the females he sleeps with."

She blinked once. Then looked at Azriel. "Is that true?"

He considered it. "Occasionally."

She sighed dramatically. "I cannot believe I've chosen to associate with the three most hopeless males in Windhaven."

"You absolutely can," Cassian said.

She reached over without asking and stole a piece of bread from Azriel's plate. He didn't protest, didn't even look surprised. Instead, the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"There you are." The words left him so naturally none of them seemed to notice.

Except Rhys. His violet eyes flicked briefly toward Azriel before returning to his drink.

She grinned. "I had to rescue these before Cassian destroyed them." She nudged the bundle of blades with her foot.

"You trusted him with weapons?" Azriel asked.

"I trusted him near weapons."

"That's offensive." Cassian chimed in.

"It's accurate." She settled onto the bench beside Azriel without invitation, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Neither reacted, it was simply where she always sat.

To the rest of Windhaven, Azriel was an enigma wrapped in shadows and impossible rumours. To her, he was Az. The male who secretly preferred tea to ale whenever he could get away with it. The one who spent evenings reading military histories no one else had the patience for. Who repaired worn leather instead of replacing perfectly usable gear. Who fed injured birds behind the barracks despite insisting he disliked animals. Who could empty everyone's coin purse in a card game because no one had ever successfully read a single expression on his face.

She'd seen him laugh so hard he'd nearly dropped his cards. Watched him quietly mend Cassian's shredded siphon harness in the middle of the night without expecting thanks. Listened to him complain for an hour about poorly balanced daggers.

She knew exactly how much honey he liked in his tea.

And not once - not once in all the years she'd known him - had she ever cared about the whispers that followed him through the camps. Those belonged to the Shadowsinger, she belonged to his best friend.

"So," she said, stealing another bite from his plate. "Finished discussing your impressive romantic failures?"

Cassian scoffed. "I don't fail."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "The window."

Cassian pointed at him. "We agreed never to mention the window again."

"We did not."

Azriel finally laughed. It was quiet, brief, and gone almost as soon as it appeared, but she caught it anyway. She always did.

๑ºั . 

If there was one thing Rhysand prided himself on, it was noticing things before anyone else did. Whether is was political alliances, weaknesses during training or the exact moment Cassian was about to say something idiotic. He had always been good at spotting patterns. Which was why, several weeks later, one particular pattern refused to leave him alone.

"You know," Rhys said casually, "I haven't seen any Layla around lately."

Cassian looked up from the dagger he was sharpening. "Layla?"

"The one Az fucked a while ago."

"Oh." Cassian frowned. "Which one was Layla?"

Azriel didn't even glance up from the leather strap he was repairing. "I don't know."

Rhys blinked. "You don't know?"

"I never remembered her name."

Cassian burst into laughter. "I thought you said you did!"

"I said I knew the first letter."

"You guessed."

"I guessed correctly."

"You accidentally guessed correctly."

Azriel shrugged. "It still counts."

Cassian looked to Rhys. "I hate that he's technically right."

Rhys ignored him. "So." He took a slow sip of tea. "When are you seeing her again?"

Azriel threaded another stitch into the leather. "I'm not."

"Why not?"

"We weren't looking for the same thing."

"And what's that?"

Azriel's shoulders lifted. "I don't know."

Cassian barked another laugh. "You don't know what you were looking for?"

"I knew enough."

Rhys watched him another moment before letting the conversation drift elsewhere. But still, something nagged at him.

๑ºั . 

A few days later Cassian called him from the doorway of the barracks. "You coming?"

Azriel looked up from where he was cleaning Truth-Teller. "Where?"

"The Broken Wing."

"The tavern?"

Cassian stared. "Yes, Azriel."

"No."

Cassian frowned. "No?"

"I've got plans."

Cassian looked at Rhys. Rhys looked back. Plans? Azriel never had plans. Or at least not plans that required turning down an evening at the tavern. "With who?" Cassian asked.

Azriel answered as though it were obvious. "Pebble."

"With Pebs?"

He nodded toward the training rings outside. "We're flying."

Cassian blinked. "Flying?"

"She wanted to practice."

"You can practice tomorrow."

"We're going tonight."

"Why?"

Azriel looked genuinely confused by the question. "Because that's what she asked."

Cassian opened his mouth, only to close it again a second later. Rhys quietly hid his smile behind his cup.

๑ºั . 

Another week went by. The four of them finished training well after sunset. Cassian immediately stretched. "I'm starving."

"So am I," Pebble agreed.

Azriel stood. "I'll cook."

She smiled. "I'll help."

The two of them disappeared toward the barracks before either Rhys or Cassian had managed another word. Cassian watched them leave. "Did he just volunteer to cook?"

Rhys hummed. "I believe he did."

"I've known him for sixty years."

"So have I."

"I've never seen him volunteer."

Rhys took a thoughtful bite of bread. "He cooks for himself."

Cassian frowned. "Does he?"

"Apparently."

"I thought he survived entirely on spite."

Rhys laughed. "So did I."

๑ºั . 

Three days later Cassian wandered into Azriel's room without knocking.

"Az?"

No answer.

The room was empty, bed neatly made, Truth-Teller gone, spare leathers missing.

Cassian frowned. He found Rhys outside. "Have you seen Az?"

Rhys didn't even look up from the book in his lap. "He's with Pebs."

Cassian stopped walking. "Again?"

Rhys turned a page. "They're repairing the western watchtower."

"They repaired that yesterday."

"I think he is teaching how."

Cassian slowly looked toward the mountains. "Why?"

Rhys finally looked up. "I suspect because she asked."

๑ºั . 

It became almost comical. She mentioned wanting to learn a new knife grip. Azriel was suddenly free that afternoon. She wondered aloud whether the stream north of Windhaven froze in winter. Azriel suggested they go look. She complained that one of her daggers felt unbalanced. By evening, it had been reweighted. She mentioned liking a particular tea she'd tasted in another camp. A week later, Azriel somehow produced an entire tin of it.

She accepted every gesture with the easy gratitude of someone who had known him for years. She never questioned it. Never thought twice. Because that was simply Az.

Rhys, however, was absolutely thinking twice. "So," he said one afternoon as Azriel adjusted his gloves.

"Hm?"

"When was the last time you left with someone?"

Azriel frowned. "The other day."

Cassian, who had just walked into earshot, snorted. "No."

Azriel paused. "Last week."

"No."

He frowned harder. "Recently."

Rhys folded his arms. "Try again."

Azriel actually stopped to think. His brow furrowed. Silence stretched. "I'm not sure."

Cassian's grin spread slowly across his face. "Oh, this is getting interesting."

Azriel looked at him. "What is?"

Cassian ignored him. Rhys leaned casually against the wall. "You've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten."

"When was it?" More silence. "When?"

Azriel stared somewhere over Rhys's shoulder, mentally working backwards. Training. Patrol. Cards. Repairing the watchtower. Flying. Dinner. Helping sharpen blades. More training. Reading. The memories came easily. One after another.

Oddly, he noticed Pebble appeared in almost all of them.

He blinked. "I don't know."

Cassian slapped both hands against his thighs, laughing hard. "You genuinely don't know!"

Azriel looked between the two of them as though they'd finally lost their minds. "I don't see why that's funny."

Rhys exchanged a glance with Cassian. Neither of them said another word. They didn't have to. For the first time since they'd grown up from being children, Azriel had stopped his long streak of sleeping around. He just hadn't realized what had taken its place.

๑ºั . 

Cassian lasted exactly fourteen minutes. That was how long he managed to keep Rhys's discovery to himself before he marched into the training ring the next morning wearing the grin of a male who had become completely unbearable.

Rhys took one look at his expression and sighed. "Please don't."

"I haven't even said anything."

"You've been smiling for five minutes."

"I've got excellent news."

"You don't."

"I do."

Rhys picked up a practice sword.

"If this ends with Azriel stabbing you, I won't stop him."

Cassian beamed. "I know."

๑ºั . 

Azriel arrived a few minutes later, fastening the straps of his gauntlets. "Morning."

Neither of them answered. Instead, Rhys and Cassian simply looked at him.

"What?"

Cassian folded his arms. "Nothing exciting happen yesterday?"

Azriel frowned. "We repaired the east wall."

"No, after that."

"We ate."

"And?"

"We played cards."

"And?"

Azriel blinked. "I… won."

Cassian groaned dramatically. "You are impossible."

"I've been told."

Rhys rubbed at his temple. "Frequently."

๑ºั . 

The opportunity presented itself sooner than either of them expected. A young Illyrian female crossed the training ring carrying a basket of freshly washed bandages.

She smiled directly at Azriel. "Morning."

He looked up. "Hi."

She lingered. Just for a heartbeat. Long enough that Cassian elbowed Rhys hard enough to nearly send him stumbling. Rhys shot him an unimpressed look that Cassian opted to ignore.

The female tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear. "I was wondering..." Azriel waited politely. "...Would you maybe like to join us at the tavern tonight?"

Cassian looked ready to explode. Azriel smiled apologetically. "I can't."

Her face fell only slightly. "Oh."

"I've already got plans."

"Another night?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure."

She nodded with surprising grace. "Maybe another time."

"Maybe."

She continued on her way. Cassian waited exactly three seconds. "You turned her down."

Azriel looked at him. "Yes."

"You."

"Yes."

"Turned down a female."

"I had plans."

"You cancelled plans with me last week."

"You weren't learning to fly."

Cassian couldn't suppress his grin, and Rhys bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

๑ºั . 

By lunch, Cassian had evolved from subtle to completely insufferable. "So I've been thinking."

Rhys sighed. "That's dangerous."

"What if Azriel's ill?"

"I'm sitting right here."

Cassian ignored him. "It would explain everything."

Rhys nodded thoughtfully. "A fever, perhaps."

"Or head trauma."

"I did hit him rather hard yesterday."

Azriel looked up from his food. "What are you talking about?"

Cassian pointed at him with an apple. "You."

"What about me?"

"You've become..." He waved the apple around dramatically. "...Domestic."

Azriel stared. "...Domestic?"

"You cook."

"I've always cooked."

"You never invited anyone."

"I wasn't inviting you."

"You repair things together." Cassian didn't even need to say her name, they all knew who he meant.

"Things break."

"You go on walks."

"We patrol."

"You drink tea."

"I've always drunk tea."

Cassian looked at Rhys in exasperation. "Why is he making this so difficult?"

Rhys took a thoughtful sip from his mug. "Because none of those things are unusual."

Cassian threw both hands into the air. "They are when they all involve the same person!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Azriel sighed.

Rhys rolled his eyes. "We know."

๑ºั . 

The teasing only became worse. Every opportunity was seized.

She asked Azriel if he wanted to help sharpen a new set of blades and Cassian loudly announced, "Careful, Az. People will start talking."

Azriel frowned. "They already do."

"Not about your knives."

๑ºั . 

She waved him over after training. Rhys nudged Cassian. "Look."

Cassian put a hand over his heart. "Oh, he's going."

"Obviously."

"He didn't even hesitate."

"He never hesitates."

Azriel stopped midway across the yard and turned. "What are you two whispering about?"

Cassian smiled far too innocently. "You."

"Why?"

"Because you're fascinating, baby."

"I'm really not."

Rhys muttered under his breath, "Not intentionally."

๑ºั . 

The final straw came two days later. The four of them sat outside the barracks, the afternoon sun warming the stone beneath their boots. She was halfway through explaining how her father had knocked over dinner last night and somehow found a way to blame her sister.

Azriel listened with complete attention.

She eventually stood. "I promised I'd help the healers."

"I'll walk with you."

She smiled. "You don't have to."

"I know." He stood anyway. "I'll see you later." He directed at Rhys and Cassian.

"Later." The moment they disappeared around the corner, Cassian slowly turned toward Rhys. "Did you see that?"

"I've been seeing it for weeks."

"No." Cassian leaned forward. "He looked at her like she was saying something important."

Rhys snorted. "She was."

"She was talking about family disputes."

"They're important."

"You know what I mean."

Rhys watched the empty corner where they'd vanished. "I do."

Cassian leaned back, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "So..."

Rhys already knew what was coming. "No."

"We should tell him."

"No."

"We absolutely should."

"He'll deny it."

"Then it'll be funny."

Rhys considered that. "It will be funny."

Cassian slapped the table. "I knew you'd come around."

Rhys smiled into his drink. "Oh, I have absolutely no intention of letting him live this down."

Neither of them noticed the shadows lingering beneath the eaves overhead. If they had, they might have realized that while Azriel himself remained spectacularly oblivious... His shadows had started picking up on it too.

๑ºั . 

The Broken Wing was as crowded as ever. Warriors shouted over one another from every corner of the tavern. Tankards slammed against tables, someone had already started a drinking game near the hearth, and Cassian looked as though he'd found paradise.

Azriel was halfway through his first ale when Cassian abruptly straightened in his chair.

Rhys didn't even look up. "No."

"Oh yes."

"Cassian."

"I've found her."

Rhys sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar." Cassian subtly nodded toward the bar. A female stood waiting for a drink, laughing at something the barkeep had said.

Pretty, and - most importantly - looking directly at Azriel.

Cassian grinned. "Watch this."

Rhys caught his wrist before he could stand. "Don't."

"You'll thank me."

"I absolutely won't."

Cassian was already gone. Azriel watched him weave through the crowd. "Should we stop him?"

Rhys took a long drink. "I've accepted my fate."

Cassian returned a minute later with the female. "Az," he announced proudly, "this is Nora."

She smiled. "Hello."

Azriel nodded politely. "Hi."

"Nora was just saying she doesn't know many people in Windhaven."

"I wasn't," Nora muttered under her breath.

Cassian ignored her. "And you looked lonely."

"I also wasn't-"

"So," Cassian continued, clapping Azriel on the shoulder, "you two should talk."

Before Azriel could object, Cassian grabbed Rhys by the arm. "We're getting another round."

Rhys frowned. "We still have drinks."

"We're getting...better drinks."

Rhys let himself be dragged away, though not before giving Azriel a look that said I'm sorry.

Azriel responded with one of his own. Coward.

๑ºั . 

To his surprise the conversation wasn't terrible. Nora was funny and quick-witted. She had an easy laugh and enough confidence to tease him without hesitation.

"Are they always like this?" She said, resting her chin on her hand. 

He glanced toward Cassian, who was very obviously pretending not to watch them. "Unfortunately."

"I thought so."

She laughed. "I almost felt bad for you."

"You should."

"I do."

He smiled. It was...nice. The sort of conversation he would've enjoyed not that long ago. She asked about flying. He answered. He asked where she'd grown up. She told him stories about another camp farther north. He listened. Asked questions. Laughed again. Everything was exactly as it should have been.

Except that he kept looking toward the door. He didn't realize he was doing it until Nora stopped speaking. "You alright?"

He blinked. "Sorry?"

"You keep checking the entrance."

"I do?"

She smiled. "Every few minutes."

He frowned. "I hadn't noticed."

She continued talking. He forced himself to pay attention. Really pay attention. And for a while he managed it.

Then the tavern door opened again. His eyes lifted automatically. It wasn't her, it was a pair of warriors. The conversation resumed.

Five minutes later the door opened again. His gaze flicked over. Not her. Again. Again. Eventually Nora stopped mid-sentence. "You are waiting for someone."

The words caught him completely off guard. "What?"

"You've been watching that door since I sat down."

"I don't think I have."

She smiled kindly. "I think you have."

Azriel opened his mouth to disagree. Then closed it.

Because she was right. He had. But why? His brow furrowed. He searched for the answer. There wasn't one. At least not one he understood.

Nora followed his gaze toward the entrance before looking back at him.

There was no disappointment on her face. Only amusement. "You should probably go."

He blinked. "What?"

"Whoever you're hoping walks through that door," she smiled. "I don't think it's me."

Silence settled between them. She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her trousers. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too."

"I mean that."

"So do I."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat before leaning down slightly. "She's very lucky."

Then she walked away. Azriel just sat there, completely bewildered, watching her disappear into the crowd.

๑ºั . 

Cassian dropped back into his chair less than a minute later. "Well?"

Azriel was still staring toward the door. "She left."

"I can see that."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"She said-" He frowned. "She said I was waiting for someone."

Cassian looked at Rhys. Rhys looked back. Neither said a word.

Azriel rubbed a hand over his face. "I wasn't waiting for anyone."

Cassian tilted his head. "Weren't you?"

"No."

Rhys nodded slowly. "So you weren't looking at the door every time it opened?"

Azriel searched his memory. Every creak of the hinges, every gust of cold air, every instinctive glance, every tiny flicker of disappointment.

His stomach dropped. Because he hadn't been looking at the door. He'd been looking for someone. Someone who always wandered into the Broken Wing after finishing with the healers, someone who stole bites from his plate before ordering her own food, someone who laughed too loudly whenever Cassian cheated at cards, someone who always sat beside him.

Mother above. He'd expected her. Without even realizing it. The realization hit him with all the subtlety of a punch to the ribs.

Cassian watched understanding dawn across his face.

"Oh."

Rhys hid his smile behind his mug. Cassian leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "There it is."

Azriel didn't hear him. For the first time in years the Shadowsinger found himself completely, utterly outmatched. Not by an enemy, not by a blade. But by his own heart.

๑ºั . 

Azriel slept terribly. Not because he couldn't fall asleep, but because every time he closed his eyes, another memory surfaced. She was there. Teaching him how to cheat at a card game she'd insisted she'd invented. Laughing when Cassian fell into the river trying to impress a female. Stealing his tea because she'd forgotten to make her own. Resting her head on his shoulder after a patrol so long he'd forgotten what silence sounded like.

Mother above. How had he missed it? He'd spent months rearranging his life around her. He didn't even do it deliberately, just naturally. As if every choice he made had quietly begun leading back to her. He suddenly understood why Rhys and Cas had looked so insufferably pleased with themselves. They'd known- actually, it seemed that everyone had known, except for him. And maybe her.

๑ºั . 

The training rings were still quiet, the morning mist hanging low over Windhaven. Pebble sat on the fence surrounding one of the smaller practice yards, boots dangling above the dirt as she methodically sharpened a dagger.

She looked up when she heard footsteps. "There you are."

The familiar greeting made something twist painfully in his chest. "Morning."

She frowned almost immediately. "You look awful."

"I slept badly."

"I can see that." She patted the fence beside her. "Come and suffer with me."

He climbed up beside her without hesitation. For a while, they simply watched the camp wake around them. Warriors drifted toward the training rings. Someone shouted across the yard. A flock of birds scattered from one of the rooftops. The comfortable silence between them settled as naturally as breathing.

"So," she said eventually, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Cassian finally drink you under the table?"

"No."

"Rhys?"

"No."

"Hm." She studied him from the corner of her eye. "Did you lose at cards?"

"No."

"Get yelled at by Devlon?"

"No."

"You usually answer in complete sentences."

"I do."

"Not today."

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "...No."

She frowned. Normally, by now, he'd have made some dry remark, maybe teased her about the state of her dagger, or asked if she'd finally learned not to hold it backwards.

She tilted her head. "You alright?"

"Hm?"

"You're fidgeting."

"I don't fidget."

He immediately shoved his hands in his pockets. She grinned. "And now you've stopped because I pointed it out."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No."

He smiled despite himself. "I don't."

Another comfortable silence. She resumed sharpening the dagger. The rhythmic scrape of whetstone against steel filled the space between them. "You know," she said.

"Hm?"

"This is weird."

"What is?"

"You."

"I'm always weird."

"Not like this."

She pointed the whetstone at him. "You're nervous."

He looked genuinely offended. "I'm not nervous."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm really not."

"You've said 'hm' six times."

"I have not."

"You have."

"I don't think I have." He sighed.

She laughed. He looked at her then, at the tiny scar beneath her left eyebrow, the freckles scattered across her nose from her visit to the Day Court a while ago, and the smile she'd worn around him for years.

Mother above. She was still exactly the same, he was the one who'd changed.

Or perhaps he finally understood something that had always been true.

She noticed his expression soften. "Az?"

He swallowed.

"I think..." He stopped. She waited. "I think something's wrong with me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I've been trying to work out when it started."

"When what started?"

"I don't know." He let out a quiet, frustrated laugh. "I genuinely don't know."

She rested the whetstone in her lap. "Talk to me."

He looked out across the training rings. "I went to the Broken Wing last night."

"I know."

"Cassian introduced me to someone. She was lovely." 

Pebble nodded, but redirected her gaze to the dagger in her hand. "I'm glad."

"I kept looking at the door."

She frowned. "...Why?"

"I didn't know." Silence. "I know now." He finally looked back at her. "I've spent months wondering why I stopped wanting anyone else." His voice had gone unusually quiet. "I thought I was just..." He shrugged helplessly. "...Done with it."

She listened without interrupting.

"I wasn't." Another small laugh. "I just..." His eyes found hers. "...Wanted to spend every evening with you instead."

The words hung between them. They were unplanned and unpolished, but entirely honest. "I keep thinking back." His voice softened further. "The sunrise, the stream, repairing the watchtower, cards, dinner. I don't remember deciding to choose you." A breath. "I just..." He smiled, almost disbelievingly. "...Always did."

Pebble stared at him. For one long heartbeat. Then another. And another. "You complete idiot."

He blinked. "...What?"

She laughed. Not because she was mocking him, because she was impossibly relieved. "I've been in love with you for years."

His brain stopped. "I thought..."

She shook her head. "I kept waiting for you to notice."

"I didn't."

"I know. You weren't ready anyway"

"I'm sorry."

She stepped closer until barely a breath separated them. She reached across the small distance between them and took one of his scarred hands in both of hers. "I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out."

He looked down at where their fingers intertwined. "How can you trust me?" The question escaped before he could stop it. Quiet. He looked almost boyish.

She looked at him as though it were the simplest question in the world. "Az." Her thumb brushed gently over one of the old scars crossing his knuckles. "I trust you with my life." His chest tightened. "I always will."

He searched her face. "You mean..."

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes, Az."

She reached up and cupped his cheek. "You absolute idiot."

He didn’t hesitate - he simply leaned forward and kissed her. It was desperate, like something in him had finally snapped into place after months of holding back, and the relief of it made his hands find her waist immediately, gripping her as if he needed to make sure she was real, make sure she wouldn't leave. She made a soft sound against his mouth - surprise, maybe, or relief of her own - before she melted into him completely.

The world didn’t just narrow; it fell away. There were only them.

Only the warmth of her lips, the way she kissed him back like she had been waiting for a long time. Her hands slid up his chest, then into his hair, fingers tangling there as she pulled him closer with a quiet urgency that matched his own. It undid something in him - something tight and aching and long-unspoken.

He kept kissing her, slower this now, but no less desperate, like he was trying to memorise the feeling of her. Her breath hitched against his mouth, and he answered it instinctively, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them at all.

When they finally broke apart, it was only barely - foreheads still touching, breaths mingling, his hands still holding her like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

And for the first time in a very long time, there was nothing left to say. Only the quiet, overwhelming certainty that he had found what he'd been missing. 

Oh my God I'm actually finishing this up in my Google Docs already (I started writing this a while ago but only recently worked up the courage to post any of my writing, The last time I did was when I'd write One Direction fanfics in 2014 lmfao) and I'm so excited to keep posting this. I counted and I have written 30 Azriel one shots and 2 multi-chapters (I was down bad a couple of years ago and I just finished my reread and now I'm down bad again). Good old times. Once a fangirl always a fangirl I guess.

I'm just gonna go ahead and spoil that this fic is going to be a long one, but I will keep updating frequently :)

The Motherlist

Please refer to the masterlist for warnings. This story is 18+

Azriel had never thought he'd become accustomed to sleeping on a couch. The first few nights had been miserable. His wings refused to fold comfortably against the narrow cushions, leaving him stiff each morning when he finally dragged himself upright. The House had been kind enough to conjure extra blankets and pillows after the third night, though it had done little to improve matters.

Still, he'd stopped complaining. Mostly because there was no one to complain to.

He rubbed a hand across his face before glancing toward the bed. No change.

Gwyn had yet to discover what the strange sequence of numbers on the animal’s collar meant. She'd disappeared into the library archives more than once, insisting there had to be some record of the symbols or language they belonged to. She'd returned empty-handed every time. California and Scotland proved equally fruitless. Neither appeared in a single map, history or text within the Night Court's libraries. It was as though the places Rhys had seen simply didn't exist.

She lay exactly as she'd done every morning for the past fourteen days, hair spread across the pillow, her breathing slow and even beneath the blankets. The fever had eased slightly thanks to Madja's tonic, but she'd yet to wake.

Beside the bed, the golden hound lifted his head. Brown eyes met hazel. The routine had become familiar.

"Morning." One floppy ear twitched.

Azriel crossed the room, replacing the now-lukewarm cloth on her forehead with a fresh one from the basin beside the bed. Her temperature seemed better. Not much, but better. He uncorked the small bottle Madja had left behind and carefully lifted her head just enough to pour a measured amount of tonic between her lips. Enough of it disappeared for him to be reasonably certain she'd swallowed.

The scars along her back remained angry and inflamed. More than once Madja had admitted she had no explanation. Azriel applied another thin layer of salve to them before pulling the blankets carefully back into place, making sure nothing rested too heavily across the small protrusions beneath the skin.

He'd found himself doing that without thinking now.

His shadows drifted around the bed lazily. One lingered near the blankets before settling beside the animal instead. Satisfied.

A quiet huff sounded behind him. The animal had already wandered towards the bedroom door. Waiting.

Azriel looked at him. "You only tolerate me because I feed you." The tail wagged once. "I'll take that as a yes."

The House opened the door before either of them reached it. "Thank you."

The staircase was quiet this early. Most mornings, Rhys and Feyre remained at the River House until later in the day, while Cassian disappeared to Windhaven before sunrise. The House belonged almost entirely to Azriel, the priestesses and, apparently, one very hungry golden animal.

The kitchen smelled faintly of fresh bread. Azriel hadn't even reached the counter before cupboards began opening around him. "You've become entirely too helpful."

A platter drifted towards him carrying slices of roasted venison, another followed with fresh water. The animal sat perfectly beside the counter. Patiently and politely watching every movement Azriel made. "You know," Azriel said as he lowered the plate to the floor, "I don't think I've ever met anyone so enthusiastic about breakfast."

The animal immediately proved him wrong by inhaling half the venison in three bites. Azriel shook his head. "I stand corrected."

Cassian strolled into the kitchen carrying a steaming mug of coffee and, more importantly, a sausage pinched between two fingers. "Well, if it isn't Sausage."

He'd figured out a week ago the animal seemed to love them. Rhys had said he saw the animal stealing a sausage from a man's hand in her mind. So one plus one made two. 

The animal’s head snapped around so quickly Azriel was almost impressed. "Oh no."

Too late. The dog abandoned his breakfast entirely. Tail wagging with reckless enthusiasm, he trotted after Cassian. Cassian grinned victoriously. "I knew it."

"You've created a monster."

"I've created a connoisseur." Cassian crouched dramatically. "Who's a good Sausage?" The dog accepted the offered sausage with remarkable gentleness before promptly attempting to climb into Cassian's lap despite outweighing several small children.

"There he is!" Mor laughed as she wandered into the kitchen. "You're actually calling him Sausage?"

"He answers to it." Cassian scratched enthusiastically behind the dog's ears. "Isn't that right, Sausage?" The tail wagged hard enough to thump against the kitchen cupboards.

Mor looked at Azriel. "You know, you could always give him an actual name."

Azriel shrugged. "I assume he already has one."

"And until she wakes?"

Another shrug. "Sausage seems happy enough."

As if understanding his cue, Sausage looked proudly between them, a piece of sausage still sticking out of one side of his mouth. Mor burst into laughter. "I hate to admit it..." She smiled down at him. "...but he really does look like a Sausage."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

By midmorning they were walking through Velaris. Or rather... Azriel was walking. Sausage was enthusiastically greeting every living creature unfortunate enough to make eye contact.

The Sidra glittered beneath the morning sun. Market stalls had begun opening, merchants arranging flowers, fruit and fabrics while children raced one another along the riverbank.

Normally, people gave Azriel a respectful berth. Not out of dislike, out of caution. The shadows, the wings and the stoic expression had earned him a reputation over the centuries. Today, however, a little girl who couldn't have been older than six broke free from her mother's hand and ran straight towards him.

Azriel stopped walking, he had no idea what else to do. The only kid who seemed to not be afraid of him was Nyx. The girl came to a halt several feet away, looking up at him with wide eyes.

She pointed at Sausage. "Mister..."

Azriel blinked. "...yes?"

"Can I pet your hound?"

"My..." He looked down. Sausage had already sat politely beside him, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. "He's not exactly-"

"Please?"

The girl's mother hurried over, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Lord Azriel."

He cringed at the title. "It's all right." 

She reached for her daughter. "Come along."

Azriel looked between the disappointed child and the golden animal whose tail had already begun wagging. He sighed. "He doesn't seem to mind."

The girl's face lit up. She dropped to her knees and wrapped both arms around Sausage's neck, who responded by enthusiastically licking her cheek. Giggles echoed across the street. Within moments, two more children wandered over. Then another. Apparently word travelled quickly among children that the terrifying shadowsinger had acquired a very friendly hound.

Azriel stood in the middle of the street. Utterly surrounded by children. He had faced death itself, he had been tortured. None of them had made him quite this nervous.

One little boy looked up at him. "Can we pet him again tomorrow?"

Azriel glanced down at the dog. Who had rolled dramatically onto his back in the middle of the pavement, demanding belly rubs from anyone willing to provide them. "...I suppose you probably can." The children cheered. 

As they continued walking a few minutes later, Azriel looked sideways at the shameless creature padding happily beside him. "You've ruined my reputation."

Sausage looked up at him, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, completely unapologetic. One of Azriel's shadows drifted down to brush against the top of the dog's head. To his utter disbelief Sausage wagged at the shadow too.

Azriel shook his head. "I don't understand what you are."

Sausage leaned briefly against his leg as they walked.

He didn't mind.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Darkness gave way to warmth. The first thing I noticed wasn't where I was, it was the silence. Not the comfortable silence of my apartment after Mateo had gone to bed, or the peaceful quiet of a campsite tucked away somewhere in the Highlands.

This silence was different. I heard no distant traffic, no humming refrigerator, no rain tapping against windows and no pipes creaking somewhere in the walls. There was only birdsong, and a faint crackling sound accompanied by the rhythmic popping of a fire.

I frowned. That wasn't right. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

For several long seconds I simply stared at the wooden ceiling above me. Dark beams stretched across it, polished smooth with age. Soft amber light danced over them from somewhere to my left.

I blinked. This wasn't my bedroom.

Maybe... Maybe we'd gone back to the campsite? No. The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come. The mattress beneath me was far too comfortable. And there certainly hadn't been a fireplace inside my tent.

Confusion settled uneasily in my stomach. My gaze wandered around the unfamiliar room. Stone walls. A roaring fire. Bookshelves. An enormous window looking out over-

I froze. Mountains? Not hills. Mountains. Beyond them stretched a city unlike anything I'd ever seen. There were elegant bridges crossed a winding river. White buildings gleamed beneath the afternoon sun.

It looked ancient. Beautiful and impossible. For one ridiculous moment, I wondered whether Mateo had somehow booked us a castle.

Then memory crashed into me. The Fairy Pools. Swimming beneath the rock arch. Hendrick. The strange pressure in the water. The world disappearing.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Right. I was hallucinating. That made much more sense. I had clearly hit my head somewhere along the way. Or maybe I drowned. Maybe this was what death felt like.

"Hendrick?" My voice came out little more than a whisper. No answer. Panic tightened my chest. "Hendrick?"

A soft huff answered from somewhere near my feet. My eyes flew open. There he was. Curled against the blankets exactly as though this were any other lazy Sunday morning. Relief hit so hard my vision blurred. "Oh, thank God."

He lifted his head immediately. His entire body wiggled before he scrambled over, covering my face with frantic kisses. I laughed. Or maybe cried. Possibly both. "You're okay." Another enthusiastic lick. "I was so worried for a second there."

His tail wagged so violently the entire mattress shook beneath us. "I know, buddy. I know." I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his fur. He smelled clean. Someone had brushed him recently.

The thought barely registered. Nothing about this made sense. But Hendrick was here, and for now that felt like enough. I pulled back just enough to cup his face between my hands. "We should probably find someone."

Maybe Mateo. Maybe- I tried to push myself upright. Pain exploded through my back. There was no warning. One moment I was sitting. The next something tore through me.

A scream ripped itself from my throat before I even realised it belonged to me. White-hot agony radiated from between my shoulder blades, spreading through my ribs and down my spine until I couldn't breathe.

It felt like my body was being split open from the inside.

I collapsed forward onto my hands, gasping uselessly. Another scream escaped me.

"Hendrick..." My fingers clawed desperately at the blankets beneath me. Please. Please stop. The pain only intensified. Pressure. Impossible pressure. As if something trapped beneath my skin had decided it no longer belonged there.

My vision blurred, the room spinning violently around me. Somewhere nearby Hendrick started barking. Frantic. Loud. Desperate. Footsteps thundered across wooden floors. A door slammed open. Someone shouted.

I couldn't understand the words, everything hurt too much. A shadow fell across the bed. Strong hands caught my shoulders before I pitched sideways onto the floor. "It's all right." A man's voice, low and steady. Also completely unfamiliar. "I've got you."

I tried looking up. Dark clothing. Leather. Tall. And then- Wings. They were huge, dark, and folded behind him. I stared at them for a second. No, that wasn't possible. Pain and panic had finally made me lose my mind, that had to be it. I was definitely hallucinating.

The room blurred again. I heard more voices enter the room, more footsteps. Someone called out another name. I couldn't focus on any of it. The wings remained stubbornly, impossibly real.

The last thing I heard before another wave of excruciating pain swallowed me whole was Hendrick whining somewhere beside the bed.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Azriel caught her before she hit the floor. Every muscle in her body had locked with pain, her hands gripping handfuls of blanket as another scream tore through the room. Sausage darted frantically around the bed, barking so loudly Azriel could barely hear himself think.

"It's all right," he said, though he knew she couldn't understand him. "I’ve got you"

She wasn't listening. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears spilling freely down her cheeks as another wave of pain bent her forward.

The scars. His gaze snapped to her back. Even through the thin fabric of her shirt he could see the angry skin had become darker, almost crimson.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Rhys. The thought was barely formed before he reached out.

Rhys. Now.

No explanation, he didn't need one. Darkness rippled through the room a heartbeat later. Rhys appeared beside the bed, taking in the scene almost instantly. "What happened?"

"She woke up." Another scream interrupted him.

Rhys' eyes landed on the trembling woman before shifting to Azriel. "I've already called for Madja."

As if summoned by the words themselves, hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway. Madja entered carrying her satchel, one glance enough to wipe every trace of composure from her face. "Help me."

Azriel moved aside immediately. The healer pressed both hands against the woman's shoulders, trying to keep her still while quickly assessing the source of the pain.

"Where?"

Azriel pointed. "The scars."

Madja frowned. "They weren't like this yesterday."

"No, and not when I applied salve this morning either."

Another cry escaped the woman. Her entire body arched violently. Madja looked up. "Rhys." He was already kneeling beside the bed. "Hold her."

Without hesitation, Rhys placed one hand against the woman's shoulder while gently restraining her trembling arms with the other. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know this hurts."

She didn't seem to hear him. Sausage whined desperately, placing both front paws against the mattress. Azriel reached down automatically, resting a steady hand against Sausage's chest before he could jump onto the bed again. "Easy."

Sausage looked between Azriel and his person, every instinct telling him to reach her. He obeyed anyway. Barely.

Madja carefully peeled back the blankets, and then stopped. Her hands froze.

Rhys noticed immediately. "What is it?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she slowly reached for the edge of the woman's shirt. Turning away, he looked towards the fire while Rhys helped the healer take off her shirt.

Silence. An unnatural silence. Even Sausage had stopped whining. 

"What..." Rhys' voice was quieter now.

Madja still didn't answer. Azriel looked back despite himself. The scars had changed, they were no longer flat against her skin. Small ridges pushed outward beneath the inflamed flesh. They were symmetrical, perfectly placed. His stomach tightened.

Madja's fingers hovered just above them. "I know these."

Rhys looked at her sharply. "You do?"

She nodded slowly. "I've only seen them once." She swallowed. "No." A second time. 

"When?"

Madja finally looked up. "Before birth."

No one spoke. She carefully traced the air above one of the small protrusions. "They're underdeveloped."

Rhys frowned. "I don't understand."

Neither did Azriel.

Madja took a slow breath. "I've delivered Illyrian stillborns."

Another pause. "This..." She looked back down. "...is what Illyrian wings look like before they're born."

The room fell utterly silent. Sausage let out a soft, uncertain whine.

Rhys stared at the woman's back. "That's impossible."

"I know."

"She's human."

"Apparently not."

"There are no wings."

"There shouldn't be." Another cry escaped the female, weaker this time. Madja's expression hardened. "We're wasting time."

She reached into her satchel, removing several small glass vials before immediately dismissing them again. "No, they won't be enough."

Rhys looked at her. "What do you need?"

"I need her unconscious."

Azriel frowned. "Will that help?"

"It will stop her fighting whatever this is." Madja met Rhys' eyes. "I can't examine her while she's in this much pain."

Rhys nodded once. Then looked at the woman. "I'm sorry." His power brushed gently across her mind. Almost immediately, the tension left her body and her breathing slowed.

The room fell silent once again. Sausage was back beside the bed before anyone could stop him, pressing his nose anxiously against her hand.

She didn't move. Madja exhaled slowly. "Good."

She reached carefully towards the strange protrusions once more. "They're growing." No one questioned her. Because as they watched one of the tiny ridges shifted almost imperceptibly beneath the skin.

Azriel felt every one of his shadows gather around the bed. Protective, waiting. He didn't tell them to leave.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

No one spoke for several long moments. Madja remained bent over the bed, examining the tiny protrusions with the careful concentration of someone afraid to disturb them. Finally, she straightened. "I need books."

Rhys looked up. "Books?"

"Every medical record we have on Illyrian births."

"There won't be much."

"I know." She glanced back at the unconscious woman. "But there might be enough." Madja carefully pulled the blanket back over her shoulders, taking particular care not to let the fabric rest directly against the inflamed skin. "The fever is no longer my biggest concern."

Rhys frowned. "What is?"

"I have absolutely no idea what's happening to her body. I don't know if this is magic." A pause. "Or whether it's supposed to happen."

Rhys folded his arms. "And if it isn't?"

Madja met his eyes. "Then we have a problem." She closed her satchel. "I'll return before nightfall." Without another word, she swept from the room. The door closed softly behind her.

Silence settled once more. Rhys remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the sleeping woman. Then his attention shifted to Azriel.

The shadowsinger hadn't moved. He was still looking at the small swell beneath the blanket. Rhys followed his line of sight. The tiny wing buds were barely visible now. Even covered, Azriel couldn't stop noticing them.

"Az."

He looked up.

Rhys studied him for a long moment. "What are you thinking?"

Azriel answered honestly. "They'll grow."

"Yes."

"If they're Illyrian..." His jaw tightened. "They'll notice."

Rhys didn't ask who. He already knew. "The camps."

Azriel nodded once. Silence again. "They're not getting anywhere near her." The words left his mouth before he'd considered them. Firm and certain.

Rhys watched him carefully. "No." He agreed quietly. "They're not. She'll stay here for now."

Azriel looked back towards the bed. He couldn't stop picturing other pairs of wings. Small, broken. They had been children. He remembered the smell of blood. The sound they had made trying not to cry out, the way it had killed some of them.

His shadows drifted closer to the bed. One settling near the headboard, another hovering near the window. Azriel didn't send them away.

Rhys noticed. "They like her."

Azriel frowned. "They don't know her."

"No." Rhys' eyes lingered on the shadows. "But they know you."

The words lingered in the room. Azriel looked down again. The blanket had shifted just enough that one corner rested lightly across the tiny swell beneath her shoulder.

Without thinking he stepped forward, lifting the edge of the blanket and folding it back more carefully. Making certain nothing pressed against the fragile shape beneath. Only after he'd finished did he realise Rhys was watching him.

Neither of them spoke. Rhys simply nodded once. "I'll have the House prepare another room for you."

Azriel's eyes remained on the bed. "No."

"You've slept on that couch for two weeks."

"I know."

"You need proper rest."

"So does she."

Rhys waited.

Azriel finally looked at him. "If she wakes again..." He glanced toward the wing buds. "...she shouldn't wake up alone."

For a long moment, Rhys said nothing. Then he walked to the doorway. "I'll send dinner up." The door closed quietly behind him.

Azriel remained standing beside the bed. Sausage wandered over, resting his head gently against the mattress beside her hand. Azriel crouched beside him. The dog looked up at him, then back at the woman, then at the shadows gathering silently around the room.

"You don't understand this either." Sausage answered with a soft whine.

As he watched the rise and fall of her breathing one thought settled quietly into the back of his mind. Whatever was happening to her, no one was going to hurt those wings.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Night settled quietly over the House of Wind, the bedroom had fallen silent once more. Madja had returned briefly, leaving behind another tray of tonics, fresh bandages just in case and three impossibly old medical texts she was studying that afternoon. None of them, according to her, offered anything useful yet.

There had never been a recorded case of wings developing after birth. Not once.

Rhys had eventually returned to the River House and Cassian had been sent to Windhaven. Mor had stopped by only long enough to ask whether there had been any change before disappearing just as quickly.

Now it was only Azriel. And Sausage of course. The animal lay sprawled across the rug beside the bed, one of Nyx's stuffed bats tucked firmly between his front paws despite being fast asleep.

Azriel sat behind his desk. The report before him had remained on the same page for nearly twenty minutes. He read the same sentence for the fourth time, but none of it stayed in his head.

A quiet huff drifted across the room. Azriel looked up automatically, but Sausage hadn't moved and the female remained asleep.

He looked back down. Another line. Another report. Nothing interesting. With a quiet sigh, he set the papers aside.

The House seemed to take that as permission. A cup of tea appeared on the corner of his desk. "I didn't ask."

The House ignored him. He took a sip anyway. Warm and exactly how he liked it.

His eyes drifted back toward the bed. She looked almost peaceful now. Nothing like she had a few hours ago. The memory of her screams settled heavily in his chest, he'd heard countless people cry out in pain over the centuries. Enemies, friends, soldiers, children. He'd learned long ago that there were different kinds of screams.

This had been something else. It had sounded wrong, as if her own body had turned against her.

Without thinking, he stood. His chair scraped softly across the wooden floor.

Sausage lifted his head. Seeing Azriel approach the bed, he thumped his tail once before resting his chin back on the rug.

Azriel rested the back of his hand lightly against her forehead. Cooler. The fever had dropped again. Good. He adjusted the blanket where it had shifted near her shoulders. His gaze lingered there for a moment. Nothing had changed since the afternoon, the tiny wing buds remaining hidden beneath the fabric. He wondered whether they hurt even while she slept, he hoped not.

The thought surprised him. His shadows had already gathered around the bed again. Still keeping watch. He still didn't send them away.

A soft scratching sound drew his attention downward. Sausage had opened one eye and nudged Azriel's hand expectantly.

Azriel stared at him. "You've become demanding." Almost despite himself, Azriel scratched behind one floppy ear. Satisfied, Sausage let out a content sigh before promptly falling asleep again.

Azriel shook his head. "I've known you two weeks." His shadows curled lazily around his shoulders. One brushed briefly against Sausage's tail.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Azriel's mouth. It disappeared just as quickly. He looked back at the female. Two weeks, and he still didn't know her name. Didn't know where she'd come from. Didn't know how she'd crossed into Prythian. Or even why. The only answers they'd managed to find had somehow raised even more questions.

Azriel extinguished the last lamp before returning to the couch. The room disappeared into comfortable darkness, broken only by moonlight spilling through the window.

Outside, Velaris slept peacefully.

IT'S PART TWO BABY!! I can't believe so many of you liked the first part, thank you all so much! <3 also it's really long again lol The Motherlist - part one

Summary: a chance encounter at Rita's leads Azriel and a female to an unexpected friendship. As their connection deepens, both must confront old wounds, quiet fears, and the courage it takes to let someone in.

Content Warnings: anxiety, trauma, hurt/comfort, self-destructive coping, minor graphics injuries, brief confrontation, mild profanity, fluff

Azriel arrived twenty-three minutes early. Not intentionally, at least, that was what he told himself. He'd left the House of Wind with every intention of taking the long route through Velaris, allowing himself plenty of time in case he was delayed. Instead, his feet had somehow carried him directly to the little restaurant they'd agreed on. The same one as last time. "We're taking it back!" She'd proclaimed.

One of his shadows drifted lazily around the hanging lantern above the entrance before circling back towards him. "...Don't." It bobbed once. Smugly.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the stone wall beside the restaurant. The evening was warm, the last traces of sunlight painting the buildings lining the Sidra in soft shades of amber. Couples wandered hand in hand along the river. A musician played somewhere farther down the street, the melody floating lazily on the breeze.

Normally Azriel would've catalogued every face that passed him without thinking.

Tonight... He found himself wondering whether she'd arrive early too. The thought had barely crossed his mind when he spotted her.

She was almost half a street away, walking towards him with the same slightly hurried pace she'd adopted every time she thought she might be running late.

She hadn't seen him yet. He smiled before he could stop himself.

A shadow brushed teasingly against his shoulder. "I know."

As if hearing him, she looked up.

The moment her eyes found his, her entire expression brightened. She broke into a grin - bright and unrestrained, like a child in a candy store.

Simply because he'd been the one waiting there. Azriel felt something warm settle beneath his ribs again.

"Hi," she said when she reached him.

"Hi."

She stopped in front of him, looking faintly embarrassed. "...How long have you been waiting?"

He considered the question. "Not very long."

One of his shadows drifted pointedly towards the clock mounted above the restaurant door.

She noticed. "So... that's a lie."

Azriel sighed. "...A small one. I've been here twenty-three minutes."

"You counted?"

"I always count."

She tilted her head. "I know." She smiled. "You counted how many times I looked towards Rita's that first night."

"I did."

She stepped a little closer. "I was early too."

"You were?"

She nodded. "I walked around the block twice because I didn't want to look overeager."

He looked at her. "Really?"

"I absolutely did."

Something about the confession made him laugh. She stared at him for a heartbeat.

"What?"

"I like that laugh."

His ears warmed immediately. "I don't laugh very often."

"I know." She said it so gently that it didn't sound like criticism, just an observation. She held the restaurant door open before he could move. "I think this one's on me."

He looked almost offended. "No."

"You paid for dinner last time."

"I invited you." He shook his head. "I can't let you pay."

She folded her arms. "Can I ask why?"

The question caught him slightly off guard. He thought about it for a moment. "...I don't know."

She smiled knowingly. "I think you do."

He sighed. "I was raised to."

She nodded. "Alright." Then she reached for the handle again. "You can pay."

His shoulders relaxed. "...Thank you."

"But," she continued. He immediately became suspicious. "The next one is mine."

He looked at her. "The next one?"

She smiled innocently. "I am hoping there will be one."

His heart stumbled in exactly the same strange way it had the night she'd taken his hand.

"I'd like that."

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The restaurant was quieter than the last time they'd been there. A handful of tables were occupied, candlelight flickering softly between them while conversation hummed gently through the room.

They were shown to a table tucked beside the windows overlooking a square. For a little while they simply talked, about work, about books, about the baker she'd somehow convinced to sell her yesterday's bread at half price because she "looked trustworthy", about Cassian accidentally breaking another chair.

By the time their meals arrived, Azriel realised something. He wasn't waiting for the conversation anymore, instead he was participating in it without thinking about it.

She was telling him about a young boy who had insisted dragons absolutely belonged in the gardening section because "they liked caves, and caves are outside."

Azriel found himself smiling. "I think he had a point."

She looked scandalised. "You can't encourage that."

"I'm merely saying his logic was consistent."

"It was terrible logic."

"It was internally consistent."

She pointed her fork at him. "I liked you better when your controversial opinions were limited to vanilla ice cream."

"I stand by vanilla."

"I know you do."

"I always will."

"I've accepted that I can't save you."

He laughed again. Gods. She really did make him laugh.

Somewhere during dessert, conversation slowed naturally. Neither hurried to fill the silence.

She traced absent-minded circles against the rim of her glass. "Can I ask you something?"

"You always do."

She smiled. "I do." Then her expression softened. "I've been thinking about... everything."

His smile faded.

"So have I."

"I figured."

She looked down at her hands. "I don't want you to think I'm waiting for something."

He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." She searched for the words. "I don't want every time we're together to feel like you have to wonder whether I'm expecting you to kiss me."

He hadn't realised until that moment how much he'd been wondering exactly that.

She continued quietly. "I like being with you." She looked back up. "I'd be perfectly happy if all we did for now was argue about ice cream and walk around Velaris."

Something inside his chest eased noticeably. He hadn't realised how tightly he'd been holding himself. "I don't know how to do this." The confession escaped before he'd decided to say it. She waited. "I've never..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think I've ever had something that started like this." She didn't interrupt. "So I think..." He looked out towards the river beyond the window. "I need to take this slowly." The words felt strangely vulnerable. "I don't want to run again."

She was quiet for a while, and then she smiled. She didn't look disappointed, or impatient. It was simply understanding. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He blinked.

"You were?"

She nodded. "I don't want to rush either."

"You don't?"

She laughed softly. "Azriel."

"Hm?"

"I've liked you since you yelled at your shadows." She said. He stared at her. "I've liked you through terrible vanilla opinions." She grinned. "I've liked you through accidentally taking me on two dates." His cheeks warmed. "I think..." She reached across the table. She rested her hand near his, not touching but just close enough that her fingertips rested lightly against the wood between them. "I'd quite like getting to know you." She smiled. "Properly."

He looked at the tiny distance between their hands, she was close enough to reach.

She wasn't touching him, not yet. This time, he reached first. Slowly, his scarred hand settled over hers. Then he waited.  Half expecting old instincts to tell him to pull away, but they never came.

She turned her hand over beneath his. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if they'd always belonged there. She didn't comment on it. She simply continued telling him about the elderly male who'd spent three weeks insisting someone had stolen his favourite poetry collection before discovering he'd accidentally donated it himself.

Azriel found himself listening intently. Really listening, and it wasn't because the story was particularly remarkable - it wasn't - but because she was.

At some point he realised they were still holding hands. He smiled quietly to himself. He didn't immediately wonder how long it would last. He simply enjoyed that, right now, she was still there.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The following weeks settled into something neither of them had planned.

It started innocently enough. Azriel found himself taking his lunch break a little later than usual on Tuesdays. Then Thursdays. Before long, it had become difficult to remember exactly when his visits to the library had stopped being 'accidental'.

He always arrived carrying paperwork.

She always raised an eyebrow.

"You know," she joked one afternoon as he settled into the chair opposite her desk, a stack of reports tucked beneath one arm, "I'm beginning to suspect you don't actually work here."

He set the reports down. "I merely appreciate the atmosphere."

She looked slowly around the library. The rows upon rows of books. The elderly female asleep in one of the reading chairs. The young male attempting to hide a romance novel inside a history book. "You appreciate... this?"

"It's quiet."

She laughed softly before returning to repairing the spine of an old book. Azriel opened the first report. For several minutes neither of them spoke. The only sound was that of pages turning, pens scratching softly across parchment, quiet footsteps of visitors wandering between shelves.

He'd always believed silence belonged to solitude, but now it felt like it simply belonged to them.

It became strangely easy to predict one another. By the third week he knew she always arrived carrying a paper bag from the little bakery two streets away.

Sometimes it contained a pastry, sometimes bread, occasionally both.

She never finished all of it. Without asking, she'd slide whatever remained across the table towards him. At first he'd refused. "I've already eaten."

"You've had coffee."

"It counts."

"It absolutely does not."

"I'm not hungry."

She'd stared at him. Then calmly broken the pastry in half. "Now there are two."

"...That changes remarkably little."

"It changes everything."

He'd looked at the pastry before looking back at her. Then sighed. "...Fine."

She'd smiled with entirely too much satisfaction. After that, she'd started placing food beside him every time. She never commented, and he never asked for it, but somehow he always ended up eating it.

She learned things too. She learned he drank his coffee black. That he'd forget it existed the moment he started reading reports. More than once she'd quietly exchanged his cold cup for a warm one before he noticed.

The first time it happened, he'd looked down in confusion. "I thought..."

She looked up from her book. "Hm?"

"My coffee was cold."

"It was."

"It isn't anymore."

"No."

He stared at the steaming mug. "...How?"

"You looked busy."

He took a careful sip. He looked at her over the rim of the mug. "Thank you."

She smiled without looking up from her page. "You're welcome."

One afternoon she found him staring thoughtfully at a shelf. "What are you doing?"

He tilted his head. "Looking."

"I gathered."

She stepped beside him. He pointed towards one of the higher shelves. "Those books aren't in alphabetical order."

She blinked. "...They're not?"

"The third one should be over there."

She looked where he pointed. Then climbed onto the small ladder kept beside the shelves.

A minute later she looked down at him. "...You're right."

"I know."

"You noticed that after being here for ten minutes?"

"I noticed it last Tuesday."

She stared. "You've been thinking about it for a week?"

"It seemed impolite to rearrange your shelves."

She laughed so suddenly she had to grip the ladder to steady herself. "You are unbelievable."

"I've heard that before."

"I'm beginning to understand why."

She climbed back down. Instead of moving the books herself, she stepped aside. "Go on."

"What?"

"Fix them."

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"I don't work here."

She folded her arms. "I give you permission."

Azriel hesitated for exactly three heartbeats. Then reached up and started moving the books around. Then adjusted a last one by perhaps half an inch. "There. They're correct now."

She looked at him for several long seconds before laughing again. "I think you were born a thousand years old."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

"It absolutely was."

His shadows adapted even faster than he did, at some point they'd stopped staying near him, instead they wandered quietly through the shelves while he worked. One occasionally perched atop a bookcase, another liked curling around the brass reading lamps.

The boldest one had developed an unfortunate fascination with bookmarks. She caught it trying to steal one late one afternoon. "Excuse me." The shadow froze. "I saw that."

It drifted innocently back towards Azriel. She looked at him. "Did you teach them this?"

"I most certainly did not."

"They're thieves."

"They're curious."

"It stole a bookmark."

"It borrowed one."

"It was taking it away."

"It hadn't decided where yet."

She shook her head. "They're impossible."

"They've spent too much time around Cassian."

One shadow immediately darted behind Azriel's shoulder. Another floated indignantly in front of him.

She laughed. "I think I offended one."

"You definitely offended one."

She leaned closer to the shadow. "I'm sorry." It hovered uncertainly. "I still like you." The shadow immediately drifted towards her. Azriel watched it wrap lazily around her wrist before settling there contentedly. He should probably have called it back. Instead he just smiled. It wasn't because of the shadow, it was because she'd apologised to it as if its feelings genuinely mattered.

She looked over at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You're smiling again."

"I am."

She smiled too, neither of them said anything after that, silence settling comfortably between them once more.

Outside, Velaris carried on as it always had. Inside the little library, surrounded by old paper, afternoon sunlight and the quiet turning of pages Azriel realised he was beginning to know what certainty felt like.

The simple certainty that tomorrow, he'd probably see her again.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

A few days later, Azriel found himself walking towards the library with Cassian beside him.

It hadn't been intentional. At least not entirely. They'd finished training earlier than expected, and Cassian had insisted they stop by one of the cafés along the Rainbow for a cup of coffee.

Azriel hadn't objected. Mostly because the café happened to be two streets away from the library.

Cassian glanced sideways at him. "...You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You are."

He immediately straightened out his face. "I wasn't."

"You were."

Azriel sighed. "I don't understand why this has become everyone's favourite observation."

"Because," Cassian replied cheerfully, "it's new."

They continued walking. The Rainbow bustled around them, artists displaying fresh paintings beneath colourful awnings while musicians filled the air with soft melodies. Children darted between market stalls, laughing as they chased one another through patches of afternoon sunlight.

Cassian took a sip of his coffee. "So."

Azriel knew that tone. "No."

"I haven't even asked the question."

"You were about to."

Azriel looked straight ahead.

Cassian grinned. "So… Does she know you're incapable of admitting when you're happy?"

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am perfectly capable."

"You've spent the last five hundred years proving otherwise."

"I haven't."

"You have."

"I smile."

"You've smiled more this month than the previous century."

"That seems statistically unlikely."

Cassian barked out a laugh. "There he is."

Azriel shook his head. "You are exhausting."

"I know."

A comfortable silence settled between them. After a moment, Cassian spoke again. "I'm glad." Azriel looked over. Cassian wasn't smiling anymore. "I'm glad you've got someone."

The words landed differently than Azriel expected. There was no teasing. No knowing grin.

"I don't know what we are."

"I know."

"We're taking things slowly."

"I know."

"I don't even know if-"

Cassian cut him off with a gentle nudge of his shoulder. "You don't have to explain it to me." Azriel frowned at him before Cas continued. "I've watched you spend centuries convincing yourself that wanting people was dangerous." His voice remained light, but something beneath it wasn't. "If you've found someone who makes you want to stick around after dinner instead of disappearing onto a rooftop somewhere..." He shrugged. "...I think that's worth protecting."

Azriel looked away. The words settled quietly somewhere deep inside him. Worth protecting. He hadn't thought of it like that.

They turned the next corner, the familiar stone building coming into view.

Cassian noticed immediately. He followed Azriel’s gaze toward the square, where the library stood just across the way, sunlight spilling over its stone steps. Then he looked back at Azriel. Then at the library again. "...You planned this."

"I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"I genuinely didn't."

Cassian studied him for another heartbeat before laughing quietly. "You know what, I actually believe you."

Azriel lifted his brow. "You do?"

"You've got the subtlety of a brick when it comes to her."

"I do not."

"You were looking at the library the moment we stepped into the square," Cassian said, nodding toward the building. "And somehow we ended up right in front of it."

"I wasn't thinking."

"I know." Cassian's grin returned. "That's how I know you're in trouble."

Azriel opened his mouth to object. The library door opened, and she stepped outside carrying a stack of books almost high enough to block her view. Azriel moved before he realised he'd decided to.

He crossed the distance between them in a few quick strides. "You've got-"

She looked up. "Oh." A smile spread across her face so quickly it almost made him forget what he'd been about to say. "Hi."

"Hi."

She adjusted the stack awkwardly. "I was taking these next door."

"I can carry them."

"You don't have to."

"I know." He waited. After a moment she surrendered the books with a small smile.

"...Thank you."

He balanced the stack easily against one arm. Only then did she notice Cassian. "Hello."

Azriel turned. "Cassian."

Cassian stepped forward, offering an easy smile. "So you're the female who's been making him smile."

Azriel closed his eyes. Cassian immediately winced. "...Too much?"

"A little," Azriel muttered.

She laughed. "No," she said. "That's alright."

Cassian looked between the two of them. Then something softened in his expression. It was subtle, so subtle Azriel almost missed it. "It's nice to finally meet you," Cassian said.

"It's nice to meet you too." She glanced sideways at Azriel. "Are you the one that allowed him to eat vanilla ice cream for five centuries?"

Cassian gasped dramatically. "Cauldron."

"You too?" She gasped.

"No, never! But I've been trying to fix that male for centuries."

"He seems resistant."

"He's hopeless."

Azriel sighed. "I am standing right here."

Neither of them appeared particularly concerned. For the next few minutes they walked together towards the little bookshop waiting for the delivery. Cassian carried exactly one book. Azriel carried the rest.

She noticed. Without saying anything, she quietly lifted the single book from Cassian's hands and tucked it onto Azriel's pile. Cassian stared, Azriel looked at her. She smiled innocently at them. "I figured we were redistributing responsibilities."

Cassian laughed so loudly several people turned to look. "I like you."

Heat crept unexpectedly into Azriel's cheeks.

She smiled. "I was hoping you would."

Cassian looked sideways at Azriel. For the briefest moment, their eyes met. No words passed between them, none were needed. Cassian's expression said everything. She's good for you.

Azriel found himself smiling again. This time he didn't even try to hide it.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

"I have to stop by the House."

She looked up from locking the library doors.  "Oh."

"I need to hand these in." He lifted the bundle of reports tucked beneath one arm.

She nodded immediately. "That's alright."

He hesitated. "You could..." The words stopped. She waited patiently. "You could come with me."

He frowned almost immediately afterwards. "I mean- You don't have to."

"I know."

He looked at the reports. Then back at her. "It shouldn't take long."

Her smile appeared so naturally that he wondered why he'd been nervous to ask. "Okay."

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The House of Wind was unusually quiet. Most of the Inner Circle was scattered throughout the house somewhere, though Azriel hadn't particularly thought about who might be home. He simply led her through the front doors.

She stopped. "This is beautiful."

He looked around. He'd never really thought about it, the polished wooden floors, the enormous windows overlooking Velaris, the warmth that somehow always seemed to linger inside these walls, the coziness of it. "It is."

She smiled. "It feels..." She searched for the right word. "Lived in."

Azriel found himself smiling. "That's probably because it is."

A laugh echoed faintly from somewhere upstairs. Followed almost immediately by Cassian loudly declaring something had been "entirely Rhys' fault."

She looked towards the ceiling. "Should I be worried?"

"Probably not."

"That's not very reassuring."

"No." He led her towards his room. "You can wait here."

She stepped inside slowly. Bookshelves lined one wall, maps another.

His desk sat beneath a large window overlooking Velaris. There were no unnecessary decorations, it seemed like everything had a purpose.

Except... She tilted her head. "You've got flowers."

Azriel blinked. "I do."

A small vase sat in the corner of the windowsill. He genuinely couldn't remember putting it there.

Then he remembered. Elain had declared a week ago that his room looked 'aggressively depressing', apparently flowers had been her solution. "I forgot those existed."

She laughed. "I don't think that's how flowers work." She wandered towards the window while he crossed to his desk.

"I'll only be a minute." He returned to the reports. Somewhere behind him she quietly wandered around his room, she wasn't snooping, just looking around. She paused beside one of the bookshelves. "You've actually read all of these?"

"Most."

She turned around. "I like that."

The words settled pleasantly somewhere beneath his ribs. A knock sounded against the open door. Neither of them had heard the footsteps. Feyre stood in the doorway.

She looked first at Azriel, then at the female standing beside his bookshelves. Surprise flickered across her face for perhaps half a heartbeat before disappearing behind an easy smile. "I was looking for you. But there’s no rush."

Feyre's attention shifted towards his companion. "Hi."

"Hello."

"I'm Feyre." She said.

She introduced herself with the same warmth she offered everyone. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

For a moment the three of them simply stood there. Feyre glanced towards the reports covering Azriel's desk. Then towards her again. "You've rescued him from his paperwork?"

She laughed softly. "I don't think anyone could rescue him from paperwork."

"That's true." Feyre smiled. "We've tried."

Azriel sighed. "I am, once again, right here."

"I know." Both females answered at exactly the same time. They looked at one another and started laughing.

Azriel stared at them. "I don't think this is fair."

Feyre's smile softened almost imperceptibly. She'd known Azriel for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him quite so relaxed. His shoulders weren't tense, his shadows drifted lazily around the room instead of watching every corner. Most telling of all, every few moments, almost unconsciously, his eyes flicked towards the female beside the bookshelf.

He wasn't checking where she was, he was checking that she was comfortable. He'd done it six times in the last minute. Feyre smiled to herself. "You two have fun."

She didn't wait for an answer. She simply took the reports from Azriel, quietly closing the door behind her. 

The moment she reached the corridor, she paused. Rhys appeared beside her a heartbeat later. "Well?"

Feyre looked back towards the closed door and smiled. "She's lovely."

Rhys followed her gaze. "And him?"

Feyre's smile widened. "I don't think he's realised it yet."

She didn't need to say what she meant out loud.

Because the way Azriel had looked at her already answered the question.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Summer settled gently over Velaris.

The Rainbow stayed busy long after sunset now. Lanterns hung between buildings like tiny stars, musicians filled the streets with lively melodies, and artists displayed fresh paintings beneath colourful awnings. The scent of roasted chestnuts drifted through the evening air, mingling with flowers overflowing from every balcony.

She loved evenings like this. Azriel... tolerated them considerably more than he used to. "You're getting better."

He looked sideways at her.

"At crowds."

"I am?"

"You haven't looked for the nearest escape route once."

"I did."

"When?"

"Immediately."

She laughed.

"I just chose not to take it."

"Progress."

"I suppose."

She nudged his shoulder lightly as they continued through the market. They walked close enough now that their hands brushed every few steps. Neither reached for the other's hand immediately anymore. There wasn't the same uncertainty there had been weeks ago.

Sometimes they held hands. Sometimes they didn't.

She paused in front of a stall overflowing with hand-bound journals. Azriel stopped beside her. "I know that face."

"What face?"

"The one that means you're about to buy another notebook."

"I don't have that face."

"You absolutely do."

"I need these."

"You've said that about the last four."

"They all have different purposes."

He folded his arms. "I'm listening."

She pointed. "One is for work."

"Mhm."

"One is recipes."

"You don't cook."

"I'd like to."

He nodded solemnly. "Aspirational notebook."

She laughed. "Exactly."

"And the others?"

She hesitated. "...One is because the cover had flowers."

He couldn't stop the smile. "I thought so."

The elderly female running the stall looked between them with quiet amusement. "You should let him buy it."

She blinked. "Oh, no."

Azriel reached for his wallet anyway.

"I can pay for my own notebook."

"I know."

"You don't have to buy me things."

"I know."

"Then why are you already handing her money?"

He looked genuinely puzzled. "Because you wanted it."

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. "...You're very difficult to argue with."

"I've heard that."

She accepted the notebook with a small shake of her head. "Thank you."

He only nodded. As they stepped away from the stall, she bumped his shoulder. "You know... I might start pretending to like very expensive things."

"You'd feel guilty within five minutes."

"Probably."

"You'd probably sneak them back into my room afterwards."

She stared at him. "...How do you know me this well already?"

He looked almost surprised by the question. "I pay attention."

The answer was so simple that it stole every clever reply she'd been about to make. She smiled instead.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

They'd nearly reached the bridge spanning the Sidra when it happened.

It wasn't dramatic. Just unpleasant.

A broad-shouldered High Fae male stumbled sideways from one of the taverns, laughing loudly with two companions. He wasn't paying attention until he clipped her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

"Oh!" She caught herself before falling. "I'm so sorry," she started automatically.

The male looked down at her. "You should watch where you're going."

She blinked. "I..."

Before she could finish, Azriel stepped forward. One movement, that was all. He simply placed himself between them. His shadows rose silently around him.

The warmth she'd come to associate with them vanished. They became something ancient. Sharp, hungry. The street seemed to grow quieter.

The drunk male looked up, recognition hitting almost instantly. The colour drained from his face. "...Shadowsinger."

Azriel didn't say a word.

He simply looked at him. The silence stretched.

Then the male swallowed hard. "I apologise."

Azriel remained perfectly still.

The male looked towards her instead. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "It's alright."

"It won't happen again."

"No," Azriel said quietly. It was the first word he'd spoken. The male's companions had already taken several careful steps backwards. "...It won't."

They left almost immediately. Just three male disappearing into the crowd considerably faster than they'd entered it.

Silence settled again. The market slowly resumed around them. Music returned. Conversations picked back up. Azriel remained exactly where he was for another heartbeat before his shadows slowly relaxed. Only then did he look at her. "Are you alright?"

She blinked. "...I'm fine."

He looked at the shoulder she'd bumped against. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

He frowned. "You stumbled."

"I was surprised."

He still looked unconvinced. Carefully, she reached for his hand. His attention dropped immediately, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm okay."

He finally nodded. "Good."

They started walking again. Eventually she looked sideways at him. "You frightened him."

Azriel's expression remained unreadable. "...Yes."

"Do you like that?"

The question caught him completely off guard. He thought about it, longer than she expected. "No."

She waited. "I like when people leave you alone." His answer was quiet, and honest.

She stopped walking. "So that's why."

He looked at her.

"I thought..." She smiled gently. "I thought maybe you enjoyed everyone being afraid of you."

A humourless laugh escaped him. "I've spent most of my life wishing they weren't."

Something tightened painfully in her chest. She stepped closer. Not because he needed protecting, but because, somehow he looked lonely. She slipped her hand back into his. "I wasn't asking because I was frightened. I was worried about you."

His brow furrowed. "Me?"

"You looked..." She searched for the words. "...Sad."

For a long moment he simply stared at her. No one had ever called him that. They would call him dangerous, cold, efficient, terrifying, necessary, but never sad. Something inside of him shifted almost painfully. He glanced down at their joined hands and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I wasn't sad."

She smiled. "No?"

He considered it. "Maybe a little."

She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder as they continued towards the river. "Well."

"Hm?"

"I'm here now."

The words were simple. She probably didn't realise how deeply they landed.

Azriel swallowed. His fingers tightened around hers ever so slightly. "You are"

Tonight, the streets of Velaris didn't feel like somewhere he had to keep watch over. They felt like somewhere he simply got to walk beside her.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Azriel picked up the habit of helping her close the library on days he was there. Right now, he was helping her reshelf books that were brought back by people during the day. By the time they'd finished the last trolley, the grandfather clock near the entrance chimed seven times.

She stretched both arms above her head. "I think..." She yawned halfway through the sentence. "...I'm officially done."

Azriel smiled. "You've said that three times."

"I meant it this time."

"Mhm."

"I did." Another yawn interrupted her.

He walked towards the kettle tucked into the tiny staff room. "Tea?"

She smiled gratefully. "Please."

She settled into one of the oversized reading chairs beside the window, carefully placing her hot tea down next to her. "I just need..." She looked at the final ledger balanced on her knees. "...Five more minutes."

Azriel took the chair opposite her. Rain continued drumming softly against the glass. Somewhere upstairs, old pipes creaked. The library smelled faintly of parchment, lavender and wood polish.

She wrote another line. Then another. He opened his book again. Several pages passed before he realised he'd stopped reading. Something had changed. The scratching of her pen had stopped.

He looked up, the ledger had slipped sideways onto one arm of the chair. Her head rested against the cushion. Eyes closed, asleep.

He remained perfectly still. One of his shadows drifted curiously towards her before settling lightly across the back of the chair like a dark ribbon.

He should probably wake her. She'd complain about her neck. She still needed to go home. Instead he watched another raindrop slide slowly down the window. 

Minutes passed. His gaze drifted back towards her. A loose strand of hair had fallen across her face. Before he could think better of it, he leaned forward. He brushed it gently behind her ear.

She stirred, and his heart stopped, but she only sighed softly before settling deeper into the chair. One corner of the blanket draped over the back had slipped onto the floor. He picked it up and laid it lightly across her. His movements felt strangely uncertain. As though gentleness required a different kind of courage than battle ever had.

He sat back down. One shadow floated towards him. It nudged lightly against his shoulder. "...I know," he whispered.

The shadow settled there contentedly. He smiled. The kind that reached his eyes.

He realised he wasn’t staying because she had asked him to. He was staying because leaving sounded like the worse option. And somehow, that no longer felt frightening. It felt like home.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The changes happened so gradually that Azriel couldn't have said when they began.

One afternoon she laughed at something he'd said and, without thinking, caught his forearm to steady herself. Neither of them reacted.

Another day they crossed one of the busier bridges over the Sidra. Before he'd consciously decided to, his hand had settled lightly against the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd.

It felt natural. He removed it again the moment the streets opened up. The following day he did it again. Then again. Eventually she stopped looking surprised by it.

Instead she simply leaned almost imperceptibly into the touch, trusting him to steer them through the tide of people without either of them needing to say a word.

Somehow that small gesture became theirs. He never questioned it, and she never pulled away.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The House of Wind became part of their routine.

It started because it was quieter than the cafés scattered throughout Velaris. Then because she liked borrowing books from the enormous library. Then because neither of them felt particularly inclined to leave once the sun had started setting over the mountains.

Some evenings she read while he worked. Others she wandered between towering shelves, occasionally emerging to read aloud a sentence she'd found particularly beautiful.

He discovered he liked listening to her voice when she forgot anyone else was in the room. It softened, lost the careful politeness she carried with strangers. Sometimes she would trail off halfway through a paragraph. He would glance up from a report. "What?"

She'd smile sheepishly. "I forgot you were listening."

"I was."

"I know."

"Keep going."

She always did.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Touch became easier

She hugged people, not everyone. The people she loved. The elderly librarian when she left for the evening, or her brother when she spotted him across the Rainbow, children who came crying because they'd torn a favourite book.

She hugged as naturally as breathing.

Azriel did not. The first time she'd hugged him goodbye, he'd frozen. She'd immediately stepped back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked."

Only then did he realise she'd let go. He frowned. "...You don't have to apologise."

"You looked startled."

"I was."

"Oh."

"I've just..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

She understood before he finished. "I can stop."

He looked at her. Then, surprising himself as much as her, quietly said, "I'd rather you didn't."

The smile she gave him stayed with him for days.

After that, it became normal. Not every time, and never expected. Sometimes when they met. Sometimes when they said goodbye. Sometimes after she'd had a particularly difficult day at the library. Sometimes when he'd returned from a patrol that had lasted longer than expected.

Short hugs. Long ones.

At first, he remained stiff for the first few seconds, still learning that affection didn't have to be earned. That it didn't always come with conditions attached. But gradually, almost without noticing, he found himself relaxing into them. His arms settled around her a little more easily each time.

She always smelled like parchment. It was the first thing he noticed whenever she stepped close enough for him to wrap his arms around her. Old books clung stubbornly to her clothes after long days at the library. Beneath that lingered lavender, faint enough that he only caught it when she rested against him.

And underneath both there was vanilla. Just her. He found himself recognising the scent before he saw her. A week later he realised he'd begun associating it with safety. He had been walking around Elain's garden and stumbled upon a lavender bush. The thought had unsettled him enough that he refused to examine it further.

Every single time she hugged him, Azriel felt himself relaxing a little sooner.

Every single time... Letting go became fractionally harder.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

One evening she wandered into his room while he finished writing a report.  Every time she entered the room she was blown away by how neat it was. Almost painfully so. Books were stacked with military precision, boots aligned beside the door, every weapon looked clean, and every surface orderly.

She smiled to herself. "Your room looks like you."

He looked up. "Is that a compliment?"

"I haven't decided yet."

He huffed a laugh. She settled cross-legged on top of the blankets with one of the novels she'd borrowed from the House library while he continued working at the small desk beneath the window.

Time slipped quietly past them.

Azriel finished the final report long after darkness had settled outside. He flexed stiff fingers before standing. "I think-"

The words died in his throat. She'd fallen asleep, the book resting open against her chest, one hand still loosely held the corner of a page.

He smiled despite himself.  She didn't stir.

He crossed the room quietly, and carefully lifted the book from her hands before marking the page with the ribbon sewn into its spine. He set it on the bedside table.

For a long moment he simply looked at her. She looked peaceful, and safe.

His room had never looked lived in before. Now there was a discarded cardigan draped over the end of his bed. A half-finished cup of tea on the windowsill. A novel lying beside his pillow.

Small things. Ordinary things. And somehow they transformed the room completely.

He should wake her. She'd be more comfortable in her own bed. Instead... He sat down carefully beside her. Only for a minute. Just until he decided how best to wake her. She shifted in her sleep. Without opening her eyes, she instinctively leaned sideways until her head rested lightly against his shoulder.

Azriel stopped breathing. He didn't move. He didn't dare. After another moment she sighed softly, one hand coming to rest against his forearm as though she'd done it a hundred times before.

His heart stumbled somewhere inside his chest. Outside, rain tapped quietly against the windows. Inside, the House of Wind had grown still.

He realised he was tired. Not exhausted or worn down, but sleepy.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he'd started to associate with her presence.

He leaned his head back against the pillow. Just for a moment.

Safe in the quiet certainty that, when he opened his eyes again she would still be there.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The first thing Azriel noticed when he opened his eyes was that he felt rested. Actually rested. Not the kind of exhaustion where his body had simply given up after days without sleep. Not the heavy, dreamless unconsciousness he'd grown accustomed to over the centuries.

He felt light. He lay perfectly still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling of his room.

The House of Wind was quiet around him. Somewhere in the distance someone laughed. Morning sunlight spilled lazily across the floorboards, warming the edge of the bed.

Then he remembered why. Very carefully, he turned his head. The other side of the bed was empty. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She was probably already awake.

He pushed himself upright, still smiling faintly. "Morning?"

No answer. He frowned.

The room still carried the faint smell of her. Her cardigan was gone from the foot of the bed. The teacup she'd abandoned on the windowsill had disappeared too.

She must have tidied before leaving the room. Of course she had.

He stood, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. The House was already awake by the sound of it.

She was probably downstairs. He pulled on a clean shirt and wandered into the corridor. "Morning, Az."

Mor walked past carrying a mug of coffee. "Morning."

She slowed. "You look..." She tilted her head. "...Happy."

He sighed. "You too?"

She laughed. "Is it becoming a problem?"

She disappeared down the hallway before he could answer.

Azriel made his way towards the dining room. Empty. Only a few abandoned mugs remained scattered across the long table.

He looked around. Nothing. Perhaps she'd gone to the library already. No. She wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. Would she?

His smile faded slightly. He checked the kitchen. The balcony. The library. Nothing.

One of the priestesses looked up as he stepped inside. "Can I help you?"

Azriel hesitated. "I was looking for someone."

"I'm afraid there's nobody here."

He nodded once. "Thank you."

Outside again. Still nothing. His shadows drifted restlessly around his shoulders. One brushed against the sleeve of his jacket. Another slipped ahead into the corridor before returning moments later.

Empty.

His chest tightened. No. She'd gone into the city. That made sense. She had work. He relaxed fractionally.

Until he remembered. Today wasn't a work day. His steps slowed. 

Perhaps she'd gone home.

Perhaps she'd remembered something.

Perhaps...

He stopped walking.

His thoughts had begun moving too quickly.

Too many possibilities. Too many explanations. He descended into Velaris.

The streets bustled with the comfortable rhythm of late morning. Market stalls overflowed with flowers and fruit. Children chased one another beside the Sidra.

Everything looked painfully ordinary.

He checked the library. It was locked. He stood staring at the closed door longer than necessary.

One of the neighbouring shopkeepers smiled politely. "They're closed today."

Azriel looked over. "They are?" He nodded. "Thank you."

He walked away. His shadows had stopped drifting lazily. Now they searched. One disappeared down a side street. Another skimmed across rooftops. A third circled high overhead. They returned one by one. Nothing.

His breathing had become noticeably shallower. This is ridiculous. He knew that. She had a life. Friends, family.

Plans that existed long before he'd stumbled onto a bench outside Rita's.

He knew all of that. So why... Why did everything suddenly feel wrong?

He crossed the Sidra. Passed the bakery where they'd shared pastries before sunrise. The little courtyard she'd shown him. The bench outside Rita's.

Empty.

His footsteps slowed. One memory followed another with cruel precision.

Five hundred years. Mor leaving.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The garden.

Elain walking away.

The cell.

The silence after footsteps disappeared.

His breathing caught.

No.

This wasn't the same.

He knew it wasn't. He knew-

His shadows gathered tightly around him. Agitated. They were mirroring him.

He closed his eyes. She'll come back. The thought arrived. Immediately another followed. What if she doesn't?

His eyes snapped open. The city suddenly felt too loud. Too full. Too empty. He turned sharply and launched himself into the sky. He didn't decide to fly to the training ring. His body chose before his mind had caught up. The impact of his landing cracked the packed earth beneath his boots.

He stood there breathing hard. Trying. Trying desperately to think logically. Trying to remember every conversation they'd had over the past weeks.

Had she seemed distant? Had he missed something? Had he said something wrong? Had he-

The first practice post shattered beneath his fist before he realised he'd moved. Wood exploded across the ring. Rhys would not be happy, he had just replaced the last ones he destroyed.

His scarred hand throbbed. He welcomed it. Because physical pain was simple. The fear blooming inside his chest wasn't. Another post, another crack echoing across the mountains.

His shadows recoiled before surging back around him almost frantically. "I know." His voice sounded unfamiliar. Hoarse. "I know."

But they didn't. Neither did he.

All he knew was that he'd woken believing someone would still be there. But she wasn't.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Morning sunlight warmed her face before she was fully awake. She frowned slightly, not recognising the room around her at first.

Books. Dark wooden furniture. The enormous window overlooking Velaris. Then she felt the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek.

Azriel. Very carefully, she lifted her head. He was still asleep. She'd never seen him like this before.

His face looked younger somehow. Softer. The lines that usually settled between his brows had disappeared entirely, his breathing slow and even as morning light spilled across the bed.

He didn't stir. She studied him for another moment. It felt strangely intimate. Not because they were sharing a bed, because he'd trusted her enough to fall asleep beside him.

She doubted he even realised he'd done it. Slowly, she slipped from beneath the blankets as carefully as she could. Azriel shifted once. She froze. A soft breath escaped him before he settled again.

She let out a relieved sigh. The room looked exactly as they'd left it the night before. She smiled to herself as she gathered her cardigan from the end of the bed. She carried her empty teacup downstairs before quietly thanking Cassian who'd already begun preparing breakfast.

"Leaving already?" He asked kindly.

She nodded.

"I promised my brother I'd meet him."

He smiled knowingly. "I'm sure you'll be back. I'll help you down"

Heat crept into her cheeks. "Thank you, and probably."

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Her brother was already waiting outside their usual bakery. She breathed in the crisp morning air. The city shimmered beneath the early sunlight. She couldn't stop smiling.

He looked up as she approached. "...Well."

She frowned. "What?"

"You look suspiciously cheerful."

"I always look cheerful."

He snorted. "No you don't."

She laughed despite herself. "I had a nice evening."

"I gathered."

He held the bakery door open for her. "So, you slept over."

She nearly walked into the doorframe. "...How do you know that?"

"You've got bed hair." She instinctively reached for her hair. He grinned. "And you're wearing yesterday's dress. You also didn't come home last night."

She looked down. "...Oh."

"And you've been smiling since I saw you." He laughed outright. "I've never seen anyone discover evidence against themselves in real time."

She nudged his shoulder. "Be nice."

"I am being nice."

"You absolutely aren't."

⋆｡𖦹°‧

Breakfast passed easily. He asked, and she answered. Mostly. The rest of her thoughts remained somewhere else entirely. She wondered whether Azriel had slept well. Whether he'd laugh when she told him she'd accidentally stolen one of his blankets during the night.

Whether- Her eyes widened. "Oh no."

Her brother looked up from his coffee. "What?"

"I left."

"...Yes."

"I just..." She stared at him. "I left."

"...I'm still following."

"I didn't leave a note."

Silence. "...Do you normally leave notes?"

"No."

"...Then why would you?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Because it wasn't normal. Because it was Azriel. Because- "I should go." She was already standing.

Her brother blinked. "You've barely touched your breakfast."

"I'll eat later." She hurried towards the door before stopping abruptly. "What day is it?"

"...Monday."

"The library's closed."

"...Yes."

She watched understanding slowly spread across his face. "You think he'll look for you."

"I..." She swallowed. "I don't know. But if he does..." She smiled weakly. "...I wasn't exactly easy to find."

She searched anyway. The Sidra first. Then the library, despite knowing it would be closed. The little courtyard behind the painter's workshop. The café they'd argued about pigeons in.

Nothing.

By early afternoon she'd begun chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. She'd seen Azriel anxious before. She hated thinking she might be the reason again. A blanket of guilt and shame draped over her shoulders, adding about a million pounds to each of her steps.

"Excuse me?" 

She turned. Rhysand. He'd landed so quietly she hadn't heard him.

He looked between her and the empty street. "...You're looking for Az."

She nodded. "I think he might be looking for me too."

Something changed in Rhysand's expression. The easy grin faded. "When did you last see him?"

"This morning."

"...You left?"

"I had breakfast with my brother."

Rhys stared. "...Did you tell him?"

"No."

"...Did you leave a note?"

Her stomach sank. "No." Her voice broke.

Rhys closed his eyes for exactly one second. When he opened them again, there wasn't any humour left. "Come here."

She blinked. "What?"

He crouched slightly. "We're flying."

"Flying where?"

He met her eyes. "I've known Azriel for over five hundred years." A beat of silence. "I know exactly where he is."

⋆｡𖦹°‧

The sound reached her before the training ring came into view.

Wood splitting. A heavy impact. Silence. Then another crack.

Rhys landed lightly beside the ring. He didn't step any closer. Instead he looked towards her. "I think..." He hesitated. "...He needs you more than he needs me."

She swallowed. 

Beyond the entrance, broken practice posts lay scattered across the packed earth. Splintered wood. Shattered targets. One entire weapons rack had collapsed onto its side. In the centre of it all stood Azriel. His back faced them. His wings were half flared, breathing hard enough that each inhale visibly lifted them.

Another practice dummy disappeared beneath his fist. The wood exploded. Silence settled over the mountains once more.

Rhys quietly stepped back. "I'll be nearby." Then he was gone.

She suddenly wished he hadn't left. For a long moment she simply stood there. She'd never seen Azriel like this. Not even after he'd rejected her. He looked… Lost.

She took one cautious step into the ring. "Azriel?" His shoulders remained rigid. Another step. "Az."

Still nothing.

He picked up another practice sword. The blade bent almost double as he drove it into the remaining target. Metal screamed.

She flinched. "Azriel."

This time he stopped moving. The silence that followed felt almost louder than the destruction had. Very slowly he turned around.

For one terrible heartbeat she wasn't sure he recognised her. Then his eyes found hers. Everything else disappeared.

The sword slipped from his fingers, landing in the dirt with a dull thud. His wings folded instinctively behind him. His breathing remained uneven.

She looked around the ring, smelling the faint metallic tang of blood. Her gaze snapped back to him. His knuckles were split open again. She crossed the remaining distance before she could think better of it.

He didn't step back, but didn't step forward either. He simply stood there watching her. As if afraid that blinking might make her disappear again. She stopped close enough to see the exhaustion carved into his face. "You've been looking for me."

It wasn't a question. His jaw tightened. For several long seconds he said nothing. Finally… "Yes." She reached for one of his hands. He flinched. Not away from her. From himself. "I shouldn't." His voice was rough.

She frowned. "What?"

"My hands."

She ignored the protest completely. She took them anyway. Fresh blood streaked across his scarred skin. Tiny splinters remained embedded across his knuckles.

She looked up. "You did this."

He nodded once. "I know."

"No." Her thumb brushed gently across one swollen knuckle. "I mean..." Her voice softened. "You did this to yourself."

His eyes closed. "I know."

Silence settled again. She waited. She'd learned something about Azriel over the past weeks. If you filled every silence… He retreated. If you let it exist, eventually he'd walk through it.

So she waited. Nearly a minute passed.

"I woke up." His voice barely carried across the ring. "You were gone." Another silence. "I knew..." He swallowed. "I knew there were explanations." She didn't interrupt. "I knew you had a life." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I knew anything was more likely than..." He stopped.

She squeezed his hand gently. "...Than what?"

His eyes remained fixed on the ground. "...Than you leaving because of me."

She frowned. "Az-"

"But that wasn't..." He laughed again. It sounded painfully tired. "...That wasn't what my head believed."

She understood. Every goodbye that had come before she'd ever met him. She stepped one fraction closer. "You thought I wasn't coming back."

He nodded. Once. Small. Ashamed. "I knew it didn't make sense." Another pause. "I still believed it."

She felt her heart break a little. Not because he'd doubted her. Because he hadn't. He'd doubted himself.

Very gently she lifted one of his injured hands until he had no choice but to meet her eyes. "Azriel." He looked at her. "I came back."

His breathing caught. "I know."

"No." She smiled sadly. "I don't think you do."

Another long silence. Then she did the simplest thing she could think of. She took one more step. Close enough that she could see every tiny fleck of amber hidden inside his hazel eyes. Close enough that, if he wanted to… He could close the distance.

She didn't. She left it to him. He looked from her eyes… To her mouth… Back to her eyes again.

His breathing became uneven all over again. His hands trembled slightly inside hers.

"So..." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Tried again. "So you're..." He laughed once at himself. "...You're still here."

She smiled. "I told you."

"No." His eyes shone unexpectedly. "You didn't." Another pause. "You just..." He looked at her as though he still couldn't quite believe she existed. "...You came back."

Neither of them moved. The wind swept quietly through the mountains. Below them, Velaris glittered beneath the afternoon sun. For the first time in his life… Azriel realised someone had left… And chosen to return.

He drew a careful breath. His thumb brushed hesitantly across the back of her hand.

He whispered. "Can I please kiss you?"

She smiled. The same small smile he'd fallen in love with on a bench outside Rita's. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

He laughed. Actually laughed. Disbelieving. The sound lingered between them as he closed the final inches.

Slowly. Giving her every chance to change her mind.

She didn't. Their foreheads touched first. Then their noses.

He closed his eyes. "So this is alright?"

She couldn't help smiling wider. "Azriel."

"Hm?"

"Kiss me."

He moved slow - so achingly slow it felt like the world itself had paused to watch. His hands rose first, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t trust what he was allowed to do. One of them hovered near her waist before settling there carefully, like she might vanish if he held too tightly. The other came up to her face, fingers trembling just slightly as they cupped her cheek.

Warm. Real. She was real. And she was here.

The moment his palm met her cheek, something inside his chest detonated, quiet but absolute. It wasn't fear this time.

It was fireworks.

Bright, reckless bursts of it, like his entire body had been waiting for this exact second without ever daring to believe it would come.

She didn’t move away. Instead, her own hand lifted, sliding into his hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring him there as if she’d decided he wasn’t allowed to disappear either.

That was what broke him. The staying.

He closed the final distance like he was stepping off a ledge he’d been standing on his entire life.

Their lips met softly at first - barely there, a question more than an answer. He hesitated for half a heartbeat, as though even now he was afraid of taking too much.

Then she kissed him back and something in him unraveled.

The world narrowed until there was nothing but her, her breath against his, the faintest tremor in her fingers, the way she tilted her head like she already knew him.

Like she had always known him.

His grip tightened just slightly at her waist, not enough to trap her, only enough to make sure she was still there. Still real. Still choosing him.

Every second stretched, molten and slow, like time itself had forgotten how to move.

It wasn’t just a kiss, it was relief so sharp it almost hurt. It was every lonely night, every silence, every fear he’d never said out loud collapsing into something impossibly soft and alive.

When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against hers, his hand still cradling her face like he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go.

His breath shook.

So did hers.

And for the first time in what felt like forever Azriel didn’t feel like he was falling apart. He felt like he’d been found.

I wrote this over a year ago, kind of nervous to share this one but I you know what it's a Friday so why not double post.

The Motherlist

Summary: a dare at Rita's leads to an unexpected conversation with the Shadowsinger. One drink turns into an entire night, and by sunrise, neither of them is ready to say goodbye.

Content warnings: explicit sexual content, alcohol, fluff

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Rita's was loud enough that conversations had to be shouted and laughter disappeared beneath the music almost as quickly as it was born. The dance floor was crowded, glasses clinked against polished wood behind the bar, and somewhere in the corner someone was singing along to a song they clearly didn't know the words to.

It was exactly what she'd needed after a long week.

"So," her friend Daphne announced over the rim of her drink, "are you finally going to tell us when the last time was that you actually talked to a male you didn't already know?"

A beat of silence followed, quickly filled by Daphne’s grin widening. "And I don't mean one of the shopkeepers you politely nod at on your way to work. I mean a stranger."

She frowned. "I talk to people."

"You order coffee and say thank you," Elia supplied helpfully.

"I have conversations."

"With us," Daphne said sweetly. "And your plants."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Daphne wasn’t finished.

"Honestly, I think the last time you spoke to a man you didn’t already know was-what? Two years ago? Three?"

"That is not true."

"It is absolutely true."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "I just don’t see the need to talk to strangers all the time."

"That’s not what we’re saying," Lysa replied, leaning forward. "We’re saying you’ve built an entire life where the only males you interact with are strictly platonic relations."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "That’s a very specific category."

"It’s accurate."

She rolled her eyes, but before she could think of a proper retort, Daphne tilted her head. "You know what I think?"

"I’m afraid to ask."

"I think you’ve forgotten how to flirt."

"I have not-" She opened her mouth to say something else when the atmosphere inside the bar shifted.

Not dramatically. No one stopped dancing, the music didn't falter, and conversations continued uninterrupted. But heads turned all the same. The Inner Circle had arrived. It happened every time. Some people offered nods of greeting. Others simply watched them pass, curiosity lingering for a heartbeat before returning to their own evenings. They weren't loud or demanding, but they carried themselves with an effortless confidence that naturally drew attention.

Rhysand walked beside Feyre, their hands brushing as they moved through the crowd. Cassian was already laughing at something someone had said, his voice carrying above the music. Amren looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else.

And then there was him. She found him before she realized she was looking. He walked a pace behind the others, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, his expression unreadable beneath the dim amber lights of Rita's.

Azriel.

She knew his name only because everyone in Velaris seemed to.

The shadows came first. Not because they announced him, but because they refused to obey the rules of ordinary darkness. Wisps of black drifted lazily around his shoulders before disappearing altogether, only to reappear near one of his hands a moment later. One curled around his wrist like smoke before slipping away again. They moved as though they had minds of their own.

She couldn't stop watching them. Or him.

He wasn't handsome in the obvious way Cassian was. He was... drop dead gorgeous. The thought arrived so suddenly it caught her off guard.

Sharp cheekbones softened by the warm lighting. Dark hair that looked perpetually windswept. Broad shoulders filling out his shirt. There was something restrained about him, something almost lonely despite standing among people who clearly loved him.

She wondered (briefly and entirely against her better judgment) what it would feel like if one of those shadows brushed against her skin.

Her stomach flipped. Gods. Get a grip.

She took a very determined sip of her drink.

"What are you looking at?"

She nearly choked.

Daphne was watching her with far too much amusement.

"I wasn't looking."

"You were absolutely looking."

"And smiling," Elia added.

"I was not."

Both of them slowly turned to look toward the table where the Inner Circle had settled. Then they looked back at her.

"It's the shadows, isn't it?" Elia grinned.

Her silence answered for her.

"I knew it."

"They're interesting," she defended weakly.

"They're attached to the most attractive male in Velaris."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

She buried her face in her glass. "I hate all of you."

"No, you don't." Daphne leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You should ask him to dance."

She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because..." She gestured vaguely toward Azriel. "Look at him."

Two heads turned. "What about him?"

"He looks..." Dangerous. Untouchable. Like someone who would politely decline and somehow still make her want to disappear into the floor. "He looks busy," she finished instead.

"He looks single," Daphne corrected.

Elia smirked. "I dare you."

She stared. "...You're serious?"

"Completely, Come on."

"No."

"You're never going to see him again."

"I could see him again."

"But you won't ask him then either."

She hated how accurate that sounded. Her gaze drifted back across the room before she could stop it. He was listening to Cassian now, though only half-heartedly if the faint, absent look in his eyes meant anything. One of his shadows curled lazily around the stem of his glass. He looked impossible to approach.

Absolutely not. She had no business walking over there. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. He'd probably think she'd lost her mind. Exactly, the sensible part of her agreed. Stay exactly where you are.

Another, far more reckless part of her whispered that she'd regret it the moment she walked out of Rita's. She sighed. You're a grown woman, you're capable of asking someone to dance. If he says no... he'll say no. Life would continue. She'd survive the embarrassment, probably.

Elia nudged her shoulder. "What's the worst that could happen?"

She looked toward Azriel once more. He hadn't noticed her. Or maybe he had. Either way... She smiled despite herself. "You're right."

Daphne's grin widened. "Oh, she's actually doing it."

Before she could lose her nerve, she slid from her chair, smoothed the wrinkles from her silk dress, took one steadying breath, and crossed the room toward the table occupied by the most intimidating group in all of Velaris.

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

The distance between their table and his suddenly felt much longer than it had looked from across the room. She resisted the urge to turn around. Keep walking.

By the time she reached the table, every ounce of confidence she'd managed to gather had all but evaporated. No backing out now.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"

Six pairs of eyes lifted toward her. Well. This was somehow worse than she'd imagined. Rhysand regarded her with quiet curiosity, Feyre offered an encouraging smile, Mor looked as though she already knew exactly why she was there, and Cassian... Cassian looked positively delighted. Amren barely spared her a glance before returning to her drink.

Then there was Azriel. Up close, he was even more unfairly attractive. The warm glow of Rita's softened the sharp planes of his face, though not enough to hide the quiet intensity in his hazel eyes. One curious shadow drifted lazily over his shoulder before disappearing somewhere behind him.

He looked at her expectantly. His attention was so unwavering that she nearly forgot why she'd come over.

"I..." Brilliant start. She forced herself to smile. "I was wondering if you'd like to dance."

Silence. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Just unexpected.

Azriel blinked once, as though the question genuinely surprised him. Beside him, Cassian's eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hair. Mor pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile.

She'd made a terrible mistake. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "You don't have to answer that. My friends dared me and I thought-"

"I don't like this kind of dancing." The words were gentle, matter-of-fact rather than dismissive.

"Oh." Of course he didn't. She laughed softly at herself and nodded. "Right. Well... thank you for letting me interrupt your evening."

She had just begun to step back when he spoke again. "I would, however..." She looked back. "...be happy to have a drink with you."

For a heartbeat, she simply stared. "...Really?"

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Really."

Complete silence settled over the table. She could practically feel the astonishment radiating from everyone around them. Cassian looked as though someone had punched the air from his lungs. Mor's eyes widened before an unmistakably smug smile spread across her face. Even Rhysand's expression shifted ever so slightly, amusement flickering behind his calm composure as he reached for his whiskey.

She glanced between all of them before looking back at Azriel. "I feel like I've interrupted something."

"You have," Cassian answered immediately.

"Cassian," Feyre warned, though she was smiling into her glass.

"What?" he said innocently. "I'm just saying this is unexpected."

Azriel didn't take his eyes off her. "Ignore him."

She laughed, the last of her nerves easing from her shoulders. "I'll do my best."

He rose from his chair in one smooth motion. He was tall. She'd known that already, but standing this close to him drove the point home. She found herself tilting her head to meet his eyes. It made her stomach tingle.

"Come on," he said quietly.

She nodded.

As they walked toward the bar together, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of half the room watching them. Maybe they were. Or maybe it was just the five people they'd left behind.

She had the distinct impression she'd be the topic of at least one conversation before the night was over.

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

They ended up in one of the quieter booths tucked into the far corner of Rita's, just far enough from the dance floor that they could hear each other without shouting.

It wasn't exactly quiet, but more secluded. She slid onto the bench first, smoothing her dress beneath her before Azriel settled beside her rather than across from her.

Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

A server appeared almost instantly. "The usual?" she asked Azriel.

He nodded before glancing at her. "What are you having?"

"I’ll have same as whatever you're having."

One dark eyebrow lifted. "Brave."

She laughed. "I've already walked over to ask a complete stranger to dance. I feel like I've committed to making questionable decisions tonight."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

When the drinks arrived, she lifted her glass toward him. "To questionable decisions."

He touched his glass lightly against hers. "To courage."

She wasn't sure why that made her smile as much as it did. For a moment, they simply watched the crowd. "You come here often?" she asked.

"Occasionally."

She looked at him expectantly. "...That's all you're giving me?"

A corner of his mouth twitched. "You asked a yes-or-no question."

She laughed. "I suppose I did."

He turned slightly toward her. "What about you?"

"My friends drag me here every few weeks."

"And if they hadn't dared you?"

She groaned, covering her face for a second. "We're pretending that part didn't happen."

"So you weren't planning on talking to me?"

"I was planning on admiring you from a safe distance." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her eyes widened. She considered hiding beneath the table.

Azriel's expression softened into unmistakable amusement. "I appreciate your honesty."

"I blame the alcohol."

"You're not drunk."

"...I blame my friends."

"I suspected as much."

She smiled into her glass.

"So," he said after a moment, "what do you do?"

"I work at a daycare."

Something changed in his expression. Not dramatically. Just enough that she noticed.

"You do?"

She nodded. "I spend my days surrounded by tiny people who think finger paint belongs on the ceiling and that every bug they find absolutely has to be shown to me."

His eyes warmed. "And you enjoy it."

"I love it." There wasn't a second's hesitation. "They're exhausting." She laughed. "By the end of every day I swear I'm going to find a quieter career."

"But?"

"But then one of them decides I'm their favorite person in the world because I tied their shoe or remembered they like the blue cup better than the green one." She shrugged. "It's hard to stay grumpy after that."

He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite place. "You must be very patient."

She snorted. "You've clearly never seen me trying to convince young ones that crayons aren't food."

That earned a genuine laugh. Low, warm, and far prettier than she'd imagined.

"There was one little boy," she continued, smiling despite herself. "Every single morning he'd run into the classroom, point at me and yell, 'You're back!' like he'd been convinced overnight that I'd disappear forever."

Azriel smiled. Not the polite sort she'd seen him offer moments ago. This one reached his eyes. "You mattered to him."

"I think I mostly reminded him where the biscuits were."

"I'm not convinced that makes a difference."

She laughed so suddenly she nearly spilled her drink. He was already looking at her. The smile was still there. For the briefest moment, it seemed he'd forgotten to hide it. Then, almost as if catching himself, he lowered his gaze to his glass. She found herself smiling too.

Conversation shouldn't have been this easy.

Yet somehow, with a male she'd met less than fifteen minutes ago, it felt as though neither of them had to try very hard at all.

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

At some point, she realised they hadn't touched their drinks in several minutes. She couldn't have said when it had happened. Only that somewhere between talking about the children at the daycare and him telling her about the bakery that made the best cinnamon rolls in Velaris, the conversation had stopped feeling like one between strangers.

"So they really made you wear a paper crown?" Azriel asked, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice.

She groaned. "It was Princess Day."

"And you were the princess."

"I was appointed princess. One of the little girls informed me my crown was 'acceptable.'" She used her fingers to make exaggerated quotation marks. "Acceptable, Azriel. She was five."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "And did you recover?"

"Barely." She smiled into her glass before taking another sip.

The music shifted to something louder, the steady rhythm carrying across the room as more people crowded onto the dance floor.

"What?" Azriel asked.

She frowned. "What?"

"You said something."

"I didn't."

"I thought you did." He leaned closer, just slightly, as if testing the space between them. Only a little. Just enough that she could make out the flecks of green in his hazel eyes.

Still, he paused. Listened. Then exhaled once, quiet.

"Oh," she said. "No."

He nodded once.

Neither of them moved away. For a moment, it seemed like neither of them quite knew whether they were supposed to.

Eventually, the conversation continued as though nothing had happened. A few minutes later, she was telling him about a little boy who had insisted worms were "just tiny snakes with confidence" when he tilted his head again.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I missed that."

She repeated herself. This time, he didn't just lean in. He shifted closer properly, closing the distance until there was no longer any question of space between them. His shoulder brushed hers, then stayed there. Intentional now, even though it was the lightest contact imaginable.

But it didn't move away. He didn't apologise. He didn't move away, either. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of cedar and night-chilled air clinging to him beneath the warmth of Rita's.

"...and then he tried to put the worm in my pocket," she finished.

Azriel laughed. "A future naturalist."

"A future menace."

"I imagine there's a fine line."

"There really is."

Again, neither of them acknowledged that they hadn't put any space between them. She certainly noticed. She was acutely aware of every inch. His knee angled toward hers beneath the table, the warmth radiating from his arm, the way one of his shadows drifted lazily between them before curling around the back of the booth, as though even it had settled in for the conversation.

"What made you choose a daycare?"

She answered, and halfway through explaining how she'd always loved working with children, he inclined his head toward her once more. Close enough now that if she turned, she'd be looking directly into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice low enough that it was nearly lost beneath the music. "It's difficult to hear you."

She blinked. It wasn't, not really. They were tucked away in one of quieter corners of Rita's. The music reached them, certainly, but she'd had no trouble hearing a single word he'd said all evening.

Besides… He hadn't asked her to repeat herself once. Not until he'd found another excuse to move closer. The realization settled over her slowly, and then all at once.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

He wasn't leaning in because of the music, he was leaning in because he wanted to.

And, judging by the almost imperceptible curve of his lips when he noticed her smile, he knew she'd figured it out.

*****

She let the silence linger. Not because she didn't know what to say. Because she wanted to see what he would do. He held her gaze for another heartbeat before taking an unhurried sip of his drink.

Completely composed. At least on the surface.

The corner of her mouth lifted. "You know..."

"Hm?"

"I don't think it's the music."

He tilted his head ever so slightly. "What isn't?"

"The reason you keep leaning closer."

For the first time that evening, she caught him off guard. It was almost imperceptible. A brief stillness. One of his shadows, lazily circling the back of the booth, paused with him.

"I've heard every word you've said," she continued, unable to stop smiling. "We haven't had to repeat ourselves once."

His eyes searched hers. "So either your hearing comes and goes very selectively..."

She leaned in just enough to close the last fraction of space between them.

"...or you're using it as an excuse."

Another beat of silence. She waited for him to deny it, but he didn't. Instead, his gaze drifted briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "So you've noticed."

Her heart gave one traitorous thump. "I have."

"And yet," he said quietly, "you haven't moved away."

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "I suppose I haven't."

"No." His voice had dropped lower somehow, nearly swallowed by the music surrounding them.

"You could."

She knew what he was offering. An out. A chance to reclaim the space between them.

Instead, she found herself smiling. "I could." She didn’t move.

One of his shadows floated curiously between them before settling around the back of the booth again, as if deciding to leave them to it.

She glanced toward it. "Do they always do that?"

His eyes followed hers. "They're curious."

"About everyone?"

A small shake of his head. "No."

She smiled, watching one curious tendril drift cautiously nearer before retreating again. "I think they're deciding whether they approve of me."

"I think," Azriel murmured, unable to hide the faint amusement in his voice, "they decided that a while ago."

She looked back at him. He was already looking at her. The air between them had changed. The teasing had faded into something quieter, something warmer.

She became suddenly, acutely aware of how close they were. Her pulse quickened. Neither of them seemed interested in discovering what would happen if they created distance instead. Neither reached for their drink. Neither looked back toward the dance floor.

The rest of Rita's continued around them. Music, laughter, glasses clinking somewhere beyond their little corner. It all felt impossibly far away.

The silence stretched between them. She couldn't remember the last time she'd sat beside someone she'd only just met and felt so completely at ease.

Azriel hadn't looked away. Neither had she.

His eyes drifted to her lips again for the briefest moment before returning to meet hers. It was enough. Enough to send her heart racing. Enough to make her wonder if she was imagining the whole thing.

She swallowed.

Say something.

Nothing came.

The corner of his mouth was still curved into that faint smile she'd come to realize was rare. Reserved. Given rather than offered. She liked that smile. Gods, she liked him.

The realization landed with startling clarity. She liked the quiet way he listened. The way he'd asked questions instead of trying to impress her. The way he'd smiled every time she laughed, as though he hadn't meant to. The way he'd been inching closer all evening under the flimsiest excuse imaginable.

A laugh almost escaped her. If you don't do this now...

She would spend the next week wondering what might have happened. Wondering if she'd imagined the way he'd looked at her. Wondering whether she'd been brave enough to find out.

Her pulse hammered in her ears. What's the worst that could happen?

The words floated back to her, accompanied by Elia's smug grin. She smiled to herself.

Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward. Only an inch. Maybe two.

She paused just long enough that he would have every opportunity to stop her. He didn't. 

Her lips brushed his. Soft, tentative.

Barely more than a whisper of a kiss.

It lasted only a heartbeat before she pulled away again. Heat flooded her cheeks the instant she realized what she'd done. "Oh." A nervous laugh escaped her. "I..." She shook her head, smiling despite herself. She searched his face, suddenly terrified she'd misread everything. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That was probably incredibly presumptuous."

For one impossible second, the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

Azriel didn't answer. He simply looked at her. His expression hadn't hardened, if anything it had become unreadable in a way that made her breath catch.

She resisted every instinct telling her to fill the silence.

So she waited and hoped.

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

The kiss had lasted no more than a heartbeat.

It should have been easy to dismiss.

It wasn't.

Azriel’s thoughts, so often ordered and disciplined, scattered the moment she'd closed the distance between them. She had kissed him. Not because she'd expected anything. Not because she'd demanded anything. She had kissed him because she'd been brave enough to take a chance.

The realization settled somewhere deep in his chest.

His shadows had gone utterly still. Usually they whispered, fidgeted, darted through every room before he entered it. Now they hovered quietly behind him, as if even they were waiting to see what he would do.

She was apologizing. He barely heard the words.

His attention had narrowed to the flush spreading across her cheeks, the nervous smile tugging at her lips, the uncertainty she'd tried so hard to hide.

She thought she'd made a mistake. Gods. She'd done the opposite.

He'd noticed her the moment she'd walked into Rita's. Not when she'd asked him to dance. Before that. She'd been laughing with her friends, completely unaware that one of his shadows had drifted across the room out of idle curiosity.

It had returned. Then wandered back again. The shadows had liked her before he'd even spoken to her, whispering in his ear that she liked him. That alone should have made him suspicious. Instead, he'd found himself watching.

Wondering why someone with such an easy smile looked so hesitant to use it. Wondering why she kept glancing toward him before immediately looking away. When she'd finally walked over, he'd already known what his answer would be.

Not the dance.

A drink.

A conversation.

Just long enough to satisfy the curiosity he'd felt the instant he'd noticed her. Except somewhere between her stories about children wearing paper crowns and laughing over worms with confidence... Curiosity had quietly become something else.

Something infinitely more dangerous. He hadn't realized how close he'd been sitting until she'd pointed it out. Hadn't realized how transparent he'd become. Then his gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, to her lips.

She’d kissed him so light he could almost convince himself he'd imagined it. Except he hadn't. He could still feel it, a soft tingling sensation where her mouth had touched his.

She shifted almost imperceptibly beside him. Not away. Just enough that he caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes again.

She was waiting for him to speak. To reject her. To laugh. To politely tell her she'd misunderstood.

Instead, Azriel lifted one scarred hand.

Slowly.

Giving her every opportunity to stop him.

She didn't.

His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face before his palm settled gently against her cheek. He was aware of his scarred hands, but she leaned into the touch without thinking.

His breath caught. "There is," he said quietly, his thumb stroking once across her cheekbone, "absolutely nothing to apologize for."

He held her gaze for another long moment. Then, with all the patience in the world, he closed the distance between them.

His lips met hers with a tenderness that stole the breath from his lungs.

Slow and unhurried. As if he was asking the same question she'd asked only moments before.

May I?

She answered almost immediately.

The hesitation she'd worn after her apology melted away as she leaned into him, her hand lifting almost shyly to rest against his forearm.

Relief bloomed somewhere deep in Azriel's chest. She wanted this.

He let himself savor the moment. The warmth of her lips. The quiet sigh she breathed between them.

The way she instinctively leaned closer until there wasn't an inch of space left between their shoulders. She tasted like her sunshine and whiskey, and he couldn't get enough.

His thumb continued its slow path across her cheek, the movement absentminded now. It was comforting.

When they finally parted, it was only by a fraction. Just enough to breathe. Her eyes remained closed for a heartbeat longer before fluttering open.

She smiled. Not the nervous smile she'd worn after the first kiss. A softer one. "I was beginning to think I'd imagined that." The words escaped her in little more than a whisper.

Azriel felt the corner of his mouth lift. "You didn't."

"No?"

A quiet shake of his head. "I was deciding how to answer."

"And this..." She glanced briefly at his lips before meeting his eyes again. "...was your answer?"

"I thought it was clearer than words."

A laugh bubbled out of her, light and utterly genuine. "I'll admit," she murmured, "it was."

He found himself laughing with her. It was quiet. One of those laughs Cassian was forever insisting he was capable of but seldom offered.

She looked at him with unmistakable delight. "You've been hiding that laugh all evening." "And I like it."

Something in his chest tightened. He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with such uncomplicated warmth. There was no expectation in her eyes.

The moment lingered, soft, suspended, until a familiar voice cut through it.

“Well,” Mor drawled, appearing at the edge of their table with a knowing smile, “I hate to interrupt whatever this is.”

Azriel didn’t look away from her. He didn’t need to, the faint tightening in his shoulders giving him away.

Mor’s gaze flicked between them, amusement sharpening. “We’re heading out,” she continued, as if she hadn’t just stepped directly into something delicate. “Cassian’s already arguing with the bartender about one last round, and Rhys is pretending he isn’t enjoying it.”

A pause.

Then her eyes landed fully on her. “And I was wondering…” Mor’s smile turned just a touch bolder. “Would you like to come with us?”

Azriel finally looked at Mor then. A subtle but unmistakable warning in his eyes.

Mor only lifted a brow in response, utterly unbothered. “What?” she said lightly. “You don't look particularly ready to say goodbye just yet.”

Azriel’s gaze shifted to her, quiet and searching. A question without words. She understood it immediately. A small nod. “Okay,” she said softly.

The decision seemed to ripple through the table at once. Mor’s grin widened like she’d been waiting for exactly that answer. “Perfect,” she said brightly. “Then let’s get you out of here before Cassian actually convinces the bartender to start a second round of bad decisions.”

Cassian, from somewhere across the room, shouted in protest. Rhysand only laughed.

Within minutes, the group began to gather their things, chairs scraping softly, coats being pulled on, the easy chaos of friends who had done this a hundred times before. Azriel stayed close to her side the entire time, a quiet, steady presence that made it impossible to feel anything but anchored.

When she spotted Elia and Daphne near the edge of the room, she slipped away for a moment.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured to Azriel. He gave a slight nod, shadows curling once at her departure before settling again.

Elia was the first to notice her, eyes lighting up immediately. “Well, well,” she teased, leaning an elbow on the table. “Look who finally decided to rejoin the living.”

Daphne’s grin was just as sharp. “We were beginning to think you’d been stolen away.” 

“I-” she started, then huffed a small laugh. “I just got distracted.”

“Oh, we noticed,” Elia said, glancing pointedly over her shoulder toward Azriel.

Daphne leaned in conspiratorially. “He looks like he’s been distracted for a while too.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “Stop it,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Elia only smiled softer then, bumping her shoulder gently. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Daphne waved her off with a mock shooing motion. “And try not to break anything important on your way out.”

“I make no promises,” she called back over her shoulder, earning a chorus of laughter as she returned to Azriel.

He was already waiting. As if he’d never moved.

The others were gathered near the exit now, the night winding down around them. Mor gave her a final knowing look as they passed through the doors of Rita’s, the cool night air washing over them in a quiet wave.

Outside, the city stretched around them in soft, glowing lines of light and shadow.

The group began to disperse with easy goodbyes - Cassian still arguing about something entirely unimportant, Rhysand and Feyre already half-turned toward Velaris’ rooftops.

Azriel stepped slightly closer to her and lifted his hand. A silent question. She didn’t hesitate and took his hand. The world shifted. Wind, light, and shadow folding in on itself - and then unfolding again.

The noise of the city vanished. Cool stone and open air replaced it. The House of Wind balcony stretched out beneath them, high above Velaris, the city glittering like scattered stars below.

Azriel released her gently, though he didn’t step away. Not even a little. 𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊ By the time the city had fallen quiet, they'd shared a pot of tea in the House of Wind's kitchen with Mor and Cassian, who had spent far more time exchanging knowing glances than actually drinking it.

Mor had eventually risen with a theatrical sigh. "I suppose we'll leave you two."

Cassian had looked between them, grinning. "You know," he'd said, stretching as he stood, "the sunrise is beautiful from Az's balcony."

"Cassian," Mor had warned.

"What? I'm encouraging appreciation of nature."

Azriel had pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're impossible," he'd muttered.

"They seem to enjoy it."

"They do."

When Mor winked at her on the way out, she'd laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea.

A few seconds later, the kitchen had fallen quiet. Azriel had cleared his throat. "I know a place with a better view." He grinned.

She'd looked up.

"My balcony."

A beat. Then she laughed. "Really?"

"It's just..." He'd glanced toward the windows overlooking Velaris. "It's a nice spot to talk a little more."

She'd smiled at the faint blush on his cheeks. "I'd like that."

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

Hours later, they were still talking. Or at least… they tried to.

Conversation had become something wonderfully inconsistent. She would tell a story, only for it to dissolve into a comfortable silence as he looked at her a little too long. He would start explaining something about the constellations above Velaris, and she'd find herself distracted by the way the moonlight caught in his eyes.

Somewhere between discussing childhood memories, favorite places in the city, and whether cinnamon rolls counted as breakfast, they'd discovered that every conversation eventually gave way to another kiss. Stolen moments between conversations. As though neither of them could quite help themselves.

She'd begun to lose track of who started them. Sometimes she'd glance at him and find him already looking at her. Sometimes he'd pause halfway through a sentence because she'd smiled. Sometimes there was no reason at all.

Just the quiet certainty that another kiss felt as natural as finishing a thought. Eventually she'd laughed into one of them, making them both pull back.

"What?"

"You forgot what you were saying."

He frowned thoughtfully. "I did."

"You were explaining something."

"I was."

She waited. "So?"

"I don't remember."

She laughed again. "I think that's my fault."

"I think you're right." His smile had become easier over the course of the night. Freer. She wondered whether anyone else noticed how much it transformed him.

She let herself take in the absurdity of it for half a second. She was in his lap, on a chair he’d dragged out onto his balcony, the city of Velaris glittering below them like it had the decency to pretend it wasn’t witnessing this.

And she’d completely lost track of time. Lost track of everything, really. He didn’t seem to be doing much better.

She kissed him again before she could think too hard about it, the conversation they’d been having dissolving into something far less coherent. One of his hands slid up her leg as the kiss deepened, his touch slow and deliberate, like he was testing how much she could take before she broke.

She answered him with a soft sweep of her tongue against his lower lip.

He let her in immediately. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, while the other hand continued its unhurried path up her leg, as if he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.

Something in her snapped - quietly, decisively. She broke the kiss just long enough to shift, moving with a confidence she didn’t bother questioning, until she was straddling him properly.

His breath hitched. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes darkened and filled with desire, lips parted and slightly swollen from her. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmured, already leaning in again like he couldn’t help himself. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” His words brushed against her mouth as he spoke, and she felt them more than she heard them.

That did something to her. She glanced at him, at the way he looked at her like she was the only thing anchoring him to anything at all. “Why don’t you show me,” she whispered.

That was all it took. Azriel didn’t hesitate. His kiss turned sharper, hungrier, less restrained, like whatever control he’d been holding onto had finally slipped through his fingers. He stood with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, not breaking the kiss once as he moved them inside.

Her legs found his waist almost without thinking, holding on as he carried her through the doorway.

The room was dark save for the first hints of dawn spilling through the open balcony doors. Cool morning air drifted inside, carrying the scent of jasmine from the gardens below, but it barely reached him. He lowered her onto the bed with a care that felt entirely at odds with the urgency building between them. Even then, he didn't rush.

His hands lingered at her waist for a heartbeat, searching her face instead of reaching for more. A silent question.

She answered by slipping her fingers into his hair and drawing him back to her. The kiss stole what little restraint he had left. A quiet sound escaped her as he settled against her, soft enough that he almost wondered if he'd imagined it.

He hadn't. His breath caught. Gods. He wanted to hear it again.

He trailed slow kisses along the line of her jaw, unhurried, letting his lips linger against the warmth of her skin until he found the place just beneath her ear. The moment his mouth brushed there, her breath caught. A soft, involuntary whine slipped past her lips.

He stilled for the briefest heartbeat.

His scarred hand tightened almost imperceptibly at her waist before he kissed the spot again, more carefully this time, committing every tiny reaction to memory. Every shaky breath. Every quiet sound she couldn't seem to hold back.

"Az..." she whispered, his name dissolving against the silence of the room.

The sound settled somewhere deep in his chest.

Gods.

He'd heard his name spoken countless times over the centuries, but never like that. His cock strained painfully against his pants. "I know," he murmured, the words barely more than a breath against her skin.

He pressed another lingering kiss beneath her ear before drawing back just enough to meet her eyes. His fingers found the delicate silk resting on her shoulders. Slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, he eased the straps down. The fabric whispered over her skin before pooling at her arms, her breasts spilling out.

His breath caught. The cool morning air drifted through the open balcony doors, brushing over her bare skin. She shivered, a quiet breath escaping her lips, and he couldn't tell whether it was the breeze or the way he was looking at her.

Beautiful. The thought came so suddenly it stole every other word from him. His scarred hand skimmed lightly along her side, slow enough that he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. She leaned instinctively into the touch, her breath hitching again.

His gaze lifted to hers. "Still alright?" he asked quietly.

She answered with a small nod before reaching for him again, her fingers curling into the back of his neck and drawing him closer.

That was all the permission he needed.

He lowered his head, pressing a lingering kiss against the underside of her breast. She arched into him with a soft, involuntary sigh, and a low sound escaped his own chest before he could stop it.

Gods. She was undoing him far more thoroughly than she could possibly know. The sound he made seemed to loosen her last thread. Her hands found the back of his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons before giving up entirely and gripping the fabric instead. She laughed softly at her own impatience. "This is your fault," she murmured.

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know."

His wings shifted behind him, forcing him to pause. With an almost embarrassed huff of laughter, he slipped the remaining buttons free around them before shrugging the shirt from his shoulders.

She didn't look away. Not for a second. Her gaze wandered over the planes of his chest, the scars crossing his skin, before returning to his face.

One curious shadow drifted between them, brushing lightly against the silk gathered at her arms. Another joined it, and together they coaxed the fabric lower with almost playful patience.

She let out a surprised laugh as the cool wisps skimmed over her skin.

The silk slipped free at last, settling in a soft heap beside the bed. His shadows lingered only long enough to make certain she was comfortable before moving towards her lace panties, pulling them down her legs with the same curiosity they'd shown all evening before retreating to his back.

Azriel's gaze found her once more. He'd spent centuries mastering discipline. It deserted him with alarming ease whenever he looked at her. For a long moment, neither of them moved. They simply looked at one another, as though trying to memorize the person in front of them before the night slipped away with the dawn. He finished undressing with none of the confidence he'd carried through the rest of the evening. If anything, he seemed almost self-conscious beneath her gaze, as though centuries of composure had deserted him somewhere between the balcony and the bedroom. He immediately gripped the base of his cock out of habit, pumping once. Twice.

She simply looked at him, breathing quickening. The breadth of his shoulders, the scars etched across skin that told stories she couldn't begin to imagine, the powerful lines of him softened only by the uncertainty in his eyes as they searched her face, his hand wrapped around himself. She rubbed her thighs together in response.

He was Godlike. The thought arrived before she could stop it.

His breath caught when he realized she wasn't looking away. She smiled, slow and unguarded. "So..." Her eyes met his again, warmth dancing in them. "That's what you've been hiding from me all night?"

The words startled a quiet laugh out of him. It was brief, almost disbelieving. One corner of his mouth lifted as he shook his head. He closed the distance between them once more, bracing himself carefully over her, his forehead brushing hers for the briefest moment before he found her lips again.

"Where'd all that confidence come from?" He teased back before capturing her lips in another kiss. He hissed as his cock made contact with her slick. She impatiently started bucking her hips. "Easy." He murmured. He slowly started pressing kisses down her body again, licking her nipples along the way and teasingly sucking just above where she needed him. She moaned out desperately. He chuckled, and then promptly buried his face in-between her legs. The sound she let out was pornographic, and for a second he worried about the others in the house. But then she squeezed her thighs around his head, and he forgot all about them. She tasted like strawberries and sin, and he couldn't help the groans escaping him. "Az- please, need more." She wove her hand into his hair, and he took a brief pause from devouring her to take her in. She was perched on one elbow, looking down at him with big, wild eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess and a thin layer of sweat lay above her brow. He slowly moved his hand up her inner thigh, earning a small encouraging sound from her. When he entered a single digit into her, his eyes shut. She clenched down on his finger, and he could only imagine how she would feel wrapped around him. He could feel her nearing her high. He sucked harshly on her clit, letting it go with a loud sucking noise. "That's it." A pause. Another quiet, almost disbelieving breath came from him. "Devine…" Another suck. "You undo me." Me mumbled against her sex. Her head was swirling, she didn't know where to look, where to grab. She felt herself sprinting towards euphoria. He reattached his mouth to her clit and started a pace of hard quick strokes with his tongue. Her orgasm overwhelmed her. She cried out his name and Azriel swore he never wanted anyone else to breathe his name ever again. She let her body fall back against the pillows, hips jerking involuntarily as she felt wave after wave of pleasure overcome her. He let her ride out her high, before pressing a final kiss to both of her thighs and moving his body back up, pressing his mouth back to hers. She felt his cock move against her belly button and moved her hand down his back towards his front. His breath hitched as her hand found him. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "Fuck." The word escaped him before he could stop it. She moaned sofly, wiggling underneath him so she could drag him through her slit, grinning at the way Azriel's breath hitched. "Why don't you do something about that?" She teased, moving her head slightly back so she could look at him. He almost looked like he was in pain, eyes watery and mouth still shimmering from the mess he made between her legs. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips apart, small breaths coming from them and crashing against her mouth in warm waves. He unwrapped her hand from him, instead pulling it over her head and intertwining her hand with his. "Gladly." He grinned. He sat back on his knees to take her in for a moment. She looked gorgeous like this, spread open wide for him, slick running from her hole onto his sheets. They would smell like her for days. Azriel didn't mind that thought one bit. He moved slightly forward so that the tip of his cock nudged her entrance. He leaned forward again, opting to look her in the eyes as he slowly pushed inside. He drew back every now and then, just to slide in a little further every time. Once he was fully seated inside her, he let his head fall into her neck. "Fuck..." He groaned. "I can't- I can't hold back." He panted. She didn't respond, she only tightened her legs around his hips, urging him even deeper. "I don't want you to." The quiet certainty in her voice unraveled what little composure he still possessed. He moved again, slower this time, giving them both a heartbeat to adjust before finding a rhythm that felt as instinctive as breathing.

A low, involuntary groan escaped him. He'd tried not to imagine this. Not on the balcony. Not while she'd been laughing over tea. Not while she'd smiled at him across the table in Rita's.

Nothing had prepared him for the reality of her. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, every measured breath threatening to come undone as she met each movement with one of her own. She wasn't simply following him - she was with him, closing every bit of distance he tried to create.

His forehead found her shoulder. Another quiet, disbelieving breath left him.

When he finally lifted his head, he looked at her as though seeing her all over again. She was watching him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her hair spread across the pillows beneath her. Soft moans escaping her lips. He couldn't stop looking at her, listening to her, breathing her.

His hands settled gently at her waist, his thumbs pushing into her skin as if reassuring himself she was really there. Every small reaction she gave him, every hitch of her breath, every subtle shift toward him, only deepened the wonder settling in his chest. His pace quickened, and she cried out his name.

He found himself committing it all to memory. Every expression. Every laugh from earlier that still echoed in his mind. Every glance she'd stolen across Rita's. He wanted to remember this version of her, too. All of it.

The sound of her voice undid him some more.

One of his shadows drifted into the edge of his vision, lingering uncertainly beside them. It hesitated, almost asking. Azriel gave the smallest nod.

The shadow responded, brushing against her swollen clit with featherlight care. She gasped, her body tensing before melting back into him.

His forehead fell against hers. "Gods..." he breathed, the word more prayer than curse.

He kissed her then. Not carefully, his tongue messily entering her mouth. Every kiss stolen between breaths, every inhale shared, every touch speaking for the words he'd long since forgotten. When he pulled back a line of spit from his mouth connected to hers.

He felt her unravel before he saw it. The rhythm she'd matched so effortlessly faltered. Her fingernails dug into his back. She buried her face against his shoulder with a broken little sound that seemed to travel straight through him. He held her through it, murmuring her name against her skin as though it were the only thing he knew how to say.

The sound of it on his lips seemed to push him over the edge. His own release followed close behind, a quiet groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, holding her as if letting go wasn't an option.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Only the steady rise and fall of their breathing filled the room, Azriel still slowly moving in and out of her even though he had nothing left to give.

The first rays of morning had begun to spill across the wooden floor, painting soft ribbons of gold through the open balcony doors. Eventually, Azriel rolled onto his side, never straying far enough to lose contact with her. She was already looking at him.

A slow, tired smile spread across her face. He answered with one of his own, that rare, unguarded smile she'd spent the entire night coaxing from him.

Neither of them spoke.

After the night that had passed between them, words somehow felt far too small.

𖤓𓂃 ོ𓂃°⭒₊

They lay beside each other silently, save for the distant sounds of Velaris slowly waking below the balcony and the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him.

She was still smiling, sleepily, contentedly. Azriel wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. Carefully, so carefully she barely stirred, he slipped from the bed. One of his shadows followed him toward the adjoining bathing room, returning moments later carrying a warm, damp cloth. Another hovered nearby, almost proudly, before disappearing again.

He couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at his mouth. "Show-offs," he murmured.

They ignored him. When he returned, she blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"Come here." There was no command in it, only quiet gentleness.

She shifted closer without question. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before taking the cloth, his scarred hands impossibly gentle as he cleaned away the traces of the night they'd shared. She watched him the entire time, hissing when he went over particularly sensitive spots. "You don't have to do that."

"I know." His eyes lifted to hers.

Something softened in her expression.

When he finished, he set the cloth aside and reached automatically for the blankets, pulling them over her before climbing back into bed beside her.

She curled against him almost immediately, resting her head beneath his chin as though she'd done it a hundred times before. His arms found their place around her without thinking.

Outside, the first true rays of sunlight spilled across the bedroom floor. He stared at them for a long while. Then cleared his throat.

She tipped her head back to look at him. There was something almost endearing about the uncertainty on the Shadowsinger's face. "I..." He looked away for the briefest moment before meeting her eyes again. "You don't have to go."

She smiled. "I wasn't planning to."

Relief washed over him so quickly it almost made him laugh. He shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"No?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking remarkably unlike the male who could face monsters and torture people.

"I was wondering..." His voice was quieter now. "If you'd stay."

Her smile grew impossibly softer.

"Maybe we can have lunch after we get some sleep." His cheeks warmed.

She chuckled, the sound light enough to make one of his shadows peek curiously out from the corner of the room. "I'd love that."

He searched her face for a heartbeat, as though making sure she truly meant it. Then one of those rare smiles spread across his face.

She reached up, pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, and settled back against his chest. Within minutes, her breathing evened into sleep.

Azriel remained awake a little longer, one hand absently tracing slow circles against her back while his shadows settled quietly around the room. For the first time in longer than he could remember, the House felt less empty.

Eventually, sleep found him too.

Lmk what you thinkkkkk! <3

The Motherlist

Please refer to the masterlist for warnings. This story is 18+

Darkness swallowed the mountains. For the briefest moment, there was nothing at all. Then solid ground returned beneath Rhys' feet. The familiar warmth of the House of Wind settled around them, carrying with it the scent of cedarwood and fresh bread drifting from somewhere deep within the house. Sunlight poured through the towering windows overlooking Velaris, illuminating polished stone floors that gleamed beneath his boots.

The House noticed them immediately. A blanket appeared over the back of a nearby chair before Rhys had taken two steps. Another drifted towards the golden creature padding faithfully beside him.

It paused, sniffing suspiciously at the floating fabric before looking back at the unconscious woman in Rhys' arms. "You may as well accept it," Rhys said quietly. "The House is rather persistent."

The creature blinked. The blanket settled gently across its back anyway. It tolerated the indignity with surprising grace. Rhys couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Rhys?" Feyre's voice carried from the adjoining room.

A heartbeat later she appeared in the doorway, Nyx balanced easily on one hip. The smile she wore disappeared almost instantly. "What happened?"

Rhys crossed the room, lowering the unconscious woman carefully onto one of the sitting room sofas. The golden creature immediately jumped onto the cushions beside her, pressing itself protectively against her side.

Feyre's eyes moved between the woman and the unfamiliar animal.

"I found them near the western wards."

"Them?"

"The animal refused to leave her."

Nyx leaned forward with all the fearless curiosity of a toddler. "Wolfie."

The creature lifted its head. Its ears twitched. Then, to Rhys' mild surprise, its tail gave a slow, cautious wag, causing the blanket to slide right off. Nyx beamed. "Wolfie."

"I think," Feyre said softly, unable to hide a smile of her own, "he likes you."

The creature's attention shifted back to the unconscious woman almost immediately, nudging her hand gently with its nose. When she didn't respond, it let out the quietest whine.

Feyre's expression sobered. "Is she hurt?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

Rhys shook his head. "She's burning with fever, but I couldn't find any wounds."

Feyre stepped closer, brushing damp strands of hair away from the stranger's face. Human, undeniably human. At least at first glance. Her clothing, however… Feyre frowned. "I've never seen fabric like this."

"Neither have I."

She touched the edge of one shoulder strap between careful fingers. "It stretches."

Rhys gave a quiet nod. "So does the rest of it, however little it is."

"Where did she come from?"

He was silent for a long moment. "I don't know."

Feyre looked up. That answer alone told her something was deeply wrong.

Before either of them could speak again, the sitting room doors swung open. Cassian entered first, laughing at something Mor had said. Azriel followed several paces behind, shadows drifting lazily around him. Amren walked in last.

Cassian stopped so abruptly Mor nearly walked into his back. "...Who's that?"

Silence settled over the room. Azriel's gaze immediately swept over the unconscious woman. Then the unfamiliar animal lying beside her. His hand instinctively brushed Truth-Teller at his side before relaxing again. There was no threat, at least not immediately.

"What happened?" Mor asked.

Rhys folded his arms. "I found her outside the western wards."

Cassian frowned. "A human?"

"As far as I can tell."

"And the..." His eyes drifted towards the golden creature. "Whatever that is?"

"It found me."

Cassian blinked. "I'm sorry."

"It found me." Another pause. "It led me to her."

"The animal?" Mor asked.

Rhys nodded once. "It sought me out."

Cassian looked down at the creature. "You led the most powerful male in Prythian through the woods?" The creature looked back at him. Its tail thumped once against the cushions. Cassian barked a laugh. "I already like him."

"Him?" Mor asked.

"I'm guessing."

Azriel remained silent. His attention hadn't left the woman. She looked exhausted even in sleep. Bare feet scratched and dirty. Hair still damp. No indication of how she'd crossed half the Night Court wilderness alone. None of it made sense.

Rhys watched the shadowsinger for a brief moment before turning back to the others. "I went into her mind."

Every conversation stopped. Even Amren looked interested. "And?" she asked.

Rhys looked once more at the unconscious woman. "I've never seen anything like it." The room fell completely silent.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

No one spoke.  Cassian was the first to break the silence. "You've never seen anything like it?" He folded his arms. "Coming from you, that's... unsettling."

Rhys inclined his head. "It was."

"What did you see?" Feyre asked.

Rhys glanced towards the unconscious woman. "I searched her memories."

Azriel frowned. "Without permission?"

"I needed to know whether she posed a threat." No one argued with that. "I expected to find the human lands. Perhaps a village near the wall. Although that still wouldn’t explain how she wound up in the Night Court. Instead..." Rhys paused, searching for words. "I saw places I've never heard of."

Amren tilted her head. "Such as?"

"Cities unlike ours. Buildings taller than anything in Prythian. Carriages that moved without horses. Countless lights, even in the dead of night."

Cassian let out a low whistle. "That sounds impossible."

"I know."

"What if they were simply dreams?" Mor asked gently.

"They weren't." Rhys met her gaze. "I know the difference."

Silence settled once more. Feyre looked back at the woman sleeping peacefully on the sofa. "So... if those memories are real..."

"I believe she came from somewhere beyond Prythian."

Cassian blinked. "You mean another continent?"

Rhys slowly shook his head. "No." The single word landed heavily. "I don't know what I mean."

Even Amren looked thoughtful now. "There are old stories," she murmured. "Older than this court. Older than the Cauldron itself."

Rhys looked at her. "But nothing you've ever confirmed."

"No." She didn't elaborate.

Azriel finally spoke. "Then why is she here?"

"I don't know."

"And if she's human?" Azriel continued. Rhys waited for him to continue. Azriel folded his arms. "Send her back."

Cassian looked between them. "Az..."

"If she's from the mortal lands, she shouldn't be here."

"She's not," Rhys said quietly.

Azriel's eyes narrowed. "You don't know that."

"I do."

"Based on memories?"

"Based on everything."

Rhys looked towards the woman. "I've walked through thousands of minds." He chose his next words carefully. "I've never encountered memories like hers."

Azriel remained unconvinced. "Different architecture doesn't mean another world."

"No." Rhys nodded once. "It doesn't."

"What convinced you, then?"

Rhys was silent for a long moment. "When I searched deeper..." Every eye remained fixed on him. "The memories simply stopped."

Cassian frowned. "Stopped?"

"I searched backwards, looking for the earliest memories every child carries."

"And?"

"I found them."

Cassian looked confused. "So what's the problem?"

"There was nothing before them."

Mor frowned. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean exactly that." Rhys rubbed a hand across his jaw. "There was no barrier. No shield. No damaged memory There was simply..." He searched for the right word. "Absence." The room remained still. "As though the beginning of her life had been removed."

Amren's silver eyes sharpened. "Removed?"

"Or hidden."

"Can that be done?" Feyre asked.

Amren answered before Rhys could. "Not by anyone living."

A chill settled over the room. Rhys continued. "And there was something else."

Cassian groaned softly. "There's more?"

Rhys ignored him. "I brushed against something beneath it all." The room waited. "It wasn't human." Silence. "It vanished before I could understand it."

No one spoke for several heartbeats. It was Mor who finally broke the silence. "The fever."

Everyone turned towards the woman again. Her breathing had become uneven. A faint flush had spread higher across her cheeks. Feyre rested the back of her hand against the woman's forehead. "She's hotter."

Rhys crossed the room immediately. His expression hardened. "The fever's getting worse."

Feyre looked towards the door. "We need Madja."

Rhys nodded once. "I'll send for her."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

Madja entered with haste. She inclined her head to Rhys before her attention settled immediately on the unconscious woman. "I came as soon as I could."

Rhys stepped aside. "She's been unconscious since I found her."

"And the fever?"

"Worsening."

Madja crossed the room, placing her worn leather satchel beside the sofa. The animal lifted his head at her approach. A low rumble vibrated in his chest. She paused. "You must be very worried." The growl stopped. Several eyebrows lifted. Madja smiled faintly. "I've worked with enough war hounds to know when an animal is frightened rather than aggressive."

The creature watched her carefully. "May I?" She extended a hand. After a long moment, it leaned forward, sniffed her fingers, then rested his head back beside the woman's arm. "Thank you."

Only then did Madja begin her examination. She rested two fingers against the woman's neck. Counted silently. Pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Hm."

"What?" Feyre asked.

"The fever is significant."

"Can you tell what's causing it?" Rhys asked.

"Not yet." She gently lifted one eyelid, studying the sluggish reaction before checking her hands and feet for signs of injury. Nothing. "No broken bones." She carefully examined the cuts along the woman's bare feet. "Minor abrasions. They've already begun to clot."

Cassian frowned. "So why the fever?"

"I don't know." Madja glanced towards Feyre. "Would you help me?"

Together, they carefully rolled the unconscious woman onto her side. Madja's hands stilled.

"What is it?" Rhys asked.

"There are scars."

Everyone moved closer. Two pale lines stretched across the upper half of her back, disappearing beneath the still damp fabric of her clothing. Old, long healed. Yet the skin surrounding them was an angry shade of crimson.

Madja traced one lightly without applying pressure. The woman flinched despite remaining unconscious. "They're inflamed," Madja murmured.

Feyre frowned. "From what?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"They're old?" Mor asked.

"Years old." Madja examined her a little longer before helping Feyre ease the woman back onto her back. "I've never seen scars react like this without fresh injury."

"Could they be infected?" Cassian asked.

"No." She shook her head. "Not in any way I recognise."

Rhys' eyes lingered on the scars. "They weren't like that when I found her."

Madja looked up. "They've worsened recently?"

"Yes."

"Hm." She opened her satchel and withdrew a small jar of pale green salve. "This won't cure whatever is happening." She handed it to Feyre. "But it may ease the irritation."

Feyre nodded. "And the fever?"

"I'll prepare something to help keep it under control." Madja looked around the room. "She shouldn't be left unattended."

"For how long?" Mor asked.

"The next few weeks."

Cassian blinked. "Weeks?"

"If the fever breaks tomorrow, wonderful." Madja folded the cloth she had been using. "If it doesn't, someone will need to monitor her closely." Silence settled over the room. "I can bring her to my healing quarters," Madja continued. "She'll be more comfortable there, and I'll be able to keep a close eye on her."

Rhys was quiet for only a heartbeat. "No." Madja looked at him. "I appreciate the offer."

He glanced towards Azriel. "But she'll remain here."

Azriel's brows drew together. Rhys met his gaze. "You'll take her."

For perhaps the first time that afternoon, Azriel looked genuinely caught off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

"Rhys-"

"We'll discuss it later." There was something in Rhys' tone that stopped any further argument before it began.

Madja looked between the two males but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, she turned fully towards Azriel. "I'll send up fresh bandages, clean linens, and enough medicine for several days." Then, after one final look at the sleeping stranger, she quietly added, "If anything changes... send for me immediately."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The room remained silent until Madja disappeared down the corridor. No one moved for a while.

Azriel was the first to break away. "I'll take her upstairs."

He bent to lift the unconscious woman into his arms. The golden creature was on his feet before she'd left the sofa. It stayed so close that his shoulder brushed against Azriel's leg.

Azriel looked down at him. "You coming?" It answered by walking ahead of him.

A corner of Cassian's mouth twitched. "I think he understands you."

"I'm not convinced he doesn't."

The House opened the door before Azriel reached it. He disappeared into the corridor, the dog following so closely that his tail brushed against the doorway as it closed behind them.

Silence settled once more. A moment later, Rhys slipped out into the hallway.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

He found Azriel exactly where he'd expected. Standing outside one of the guest rooms. The House had already opened the door. Azriel hadn't stepped inside.

"You chose quickly," Rhys observed.

"I didn't."

Rhys stopped beside him. The room beyond was immaculate. Bright. Comfortable. Empty. Azriel looked at it for another long moment before quietly saying, "No."

The bedroom door closed. Further down the corridor, another opened. His own.

Rhys said nothing.

Azriel carried the woman inside without another word. The animal followed immediately, jumping onto the rug beside the bed before Azriel had even lowered her onto the mattress. The dog settled against the bedside, eyes never leaving her.

Only after pulling the blankets over her did Azriel straighten.

Rhys remained leaning against the doorway. "I suppose that answers my question."

Azriel didn't look at him. "It isn't what you think."

"I haven't said what I think."

"No." A pause. "But you're going to."

Rhys folded his arms. "You've been avoiding everyone." Azriel remained silent. "Cassian tells me you've volunteered for nearly every patrol outside Velaris."

Azriel shrugged. "The work needed doing."

"It always needs doing." Rhys' voice remained calm. "You've also been spending your nights elsewhere."

Azriel finally looked at him. "My personal life is hardly your concern."

"No." Rhys held his gaze. "It becomes my concern when it changes the male I've known for five centuries."

The words landed. Azriel looked away first.

Rhys continued quietly. "You've been restless." Silence. "Withdrawn." Another silence. "Angry."

"I am not angry."

"No?" Rhys' expression remained unreadable. "Then tell me what you are."

Azriel opened his mouth. Closed it again. Nothing came.

Rhys already knew why. "I've watched you throw yourself into every mission I would allow." Still nothing. "I've watched you return looking more exhausted every week. You don't know how to handle peace."

Azriel's shoulders tightened.

"And when there wasn't work..." Rhys let the sentence trail away. "You found another distraction."

The room fell quiet. Outside, Velaris carried on as though nothing had changed.

"I don't need a lecture."

"I'm not giving you one." Rhys stepped fully into the room. "I'm giving you a job."

Azriel frowned.

"You asked me a month ago for more work."

"I did."

"You said sitting behind a desk wasn't enough."

"It isn't."

Rhys nodded once. "So here's your assignment."

Azriel looked between him and the unconscious woman. "You want me to watch her."

"I want you to find out who she is."

"Those aren't the same thing."

"They are."

Azriel let out a slow breath. "There are others better suited."

"No."

"Cerridwen."

"No."

"Nuala."

"No."

"You." 

Rhys almost smiled. "I already have a court to run."

Silence stretched between them. Finally, Azriel asked quietly, "Is this an order?"

Rhys didn't answer immediately. He looked at his brother. Really looked at him. At the exhaustion hidden behind practiced composure. At the shadows that had grown quieter these past months. At a male who had spent so long making himself useful that he no longer knew who he was without a purpose. "Yes."

Azriel closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the argument had left them. "I'll begin tomorrow."

"No."

Rhys looked towards the sleeping woman. "You've already begun."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The bedroom door clicked softly shut behind Rhys, silence settling over the room once more. Azriel glanced toward the unconscious woman, making a mental note to ask a female to change her clothing, before looking at the golden creature still stationed faithfully beside the bed.

It hadn't moved, not once.

"You've been staring at me for the better part of an hour." One ear twitched. "She isn't going anywhere."

The creature blinked. Then, with surprising reluctance, it stood.

Azriel looked between the animal and the woman. "If she's going to be asleep for days..." He let the thought trail away. "You should probably eat."  lts ears perked. "So you do understand me. Come on." He followed without hesitation.

The House had already begun preparing dinner downstairs. Warm light spilled from the kitchen doorway, carrying with it the comforting scent of herbs and freshly baked bread.

Azriel stepped inside. "I need something for him."

A cupboard opened on its own, another followed. A platter of roasted venison drifted onto the counter. 

"That'll do."  Azriel set the platter on the floor before filling a large bowl with fresh water.

The creature approached cautiously. For a heartbeat, he only sniffed. Then hunger won. He devoured the meat with astonishing speed before drinking deeply from the bowl.

Azriel folded his arms. "When did you last eat?" The dog ignored him entirely. By the time the last piece of meat disappeared, the bowl was spotless.

Azriel crouched to pick it up. A wet nose bumped gently against the back of his hand. He paused. The dog looked up at him expectantly. "You want something."

Another nudge. Azriel stared at him for a long moment.

Then, almost cautiously, he reached out and scratched behind one golden ear. The reaction was immediate. The dog's eyes drifted closed. His tail thumped enthusiastically against the kitchen counter. Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. "So that's what you wanted."

The tail wagged harder. "You're easier to read than most people."

"Now there's something I never thought I'd see." Azriel looked up. Feyre stood in the doorway, unable to hide the smile spreading across her face.

He withdrew his hand immediately. "It's hungry."

"So I can see." She glanced between the shadowsinger and the blissfully content dog.

"I didn't know you were an animal person."

"I'm not."

"No?"

The dog leaned against Azriel's leg, asking for more attention.

Feyre raised an eyebrow. "It seems you've convinced someone otherwise."

Azriel looked down. Against his better judgement... He scratched behind the dog's ears again. The tail resumed its relentless thumping.

Feyre's smile only widened. "I won't tell Cassian."

"I'd appreciate that."

She laughed softly before continuing down the corridor.

The kitchen fell quiet once more. Azriel looked back at the dog. "You've made this unnecessarily embarrassing."

The dog answered by resting his head against Azriel's knee. 

Shaking his head, Azriel reached for the empty platter. As he did, something caught his eye. A collar. Simple, black. It was fastened around the dog's neck. Attached to it hung a small silver tag. Not engraved with words. Only a series of unfamiliar numbers.

Azriel frowned. He turned the tag over. The same numbers were repeated on the other side. No crest. Nothing he recognised.

He rubbed a thumb across the smooth metal before looking toward the hallway. "Gwyn might know."

The dog watched him curiously.

The chapter we've been waiting for :D this is where we're starting to get into the main plot lmao

The Motherlist

Please refer to the masterlist for warnings. This story is 18+

Camping had a funny way of making time disappear. By the third morning we'd already fallen into a comfortable routine. We woke with the sun, complained about the cold while making coffee on our tiny camping stove, spent our days wandering through Skye's endless hills and somehow always ended the evening around the campfire, wrapped in blankets while arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes.

Predictably, it was never Mateo's. 

"I cooked!" he protested as Bryan handed him a tea towel.

"You heated canned soup."

"I heated it beautifully."

Bryan laughed and shoved the tea towel into Mateo's chest anyway. "Congratulations. Now wash the pan."

Emma looked up from her camping chair. "I'm so glad I didn't date either of you."

"You would've ruined our dynamic," Mateo replied without missing a beat.

"I would've improved it." She pushed back.

"You would've made us communicate."

Dylan snorted into his coffee. "Disgusting."

I couldn't help but laugh. This was exactly why I loved camping with these idiots. Nobody cared what anyone looked like. We hadn't seen a proper mirror in three days, our hair had collectively given up and I was fairly certain Mateo had worn the same hoodie every evening.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, catching me smiling.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking something."

"I was thinking your hoodie could probably stand up on its own by now."

Bryan nodded thoughtfully. "She's got a point."

"You all suck."

Hendrick, traitor that he was, chose that exact moment to wander over to Mateo instead of defending my honour. Mateo grinned victoriously and scratched behind his ears. "See? At least someone appreciates me." Hendrick promptly stole the sausage Mateo had been about to eat and sprinted across the campsite. "...I take it back."

Laughter echoed across the clearing as Mateo chased after him, yelling dramatically that betrayal was a crime. I watched them disappear between the trees before turning around awkwardly to massage my neck.

A sharp sting shot across my upper back and I sucked in a quiet breath.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

"Yeah." I rolled one shoulder, trying to stretch whatever muscle was complaining. "My backpack's been rubbing."

It wasn't exactly unusual. Ever since I was a teenager, carrying a backpack for longer hikes always irritated the same two spots on my upper back. They weren't fresh scars, not even close. They'd been there for as long as I could remember, two pale marks stretching down either side of my spine. My parents had once told me I'd fallen onto something sharp as a toddler. I had no memory of it, but apparently the scars had faded enough over the years that nobody thought much of them anymore.

Except whenever I wore a heavy backpack, then they burned like hell.

"Want me to carry some of your stuff tomorrow?" Dylan offered.

I shook my head. "They'll settle down once we get walking."

"They never do," Emma muttered.

I pointed a finger at her. "Negativity isn't welcome on camping trips."

Mateo finally returned, completely out of breath and still empty-handed.  "I'd just like everyone to know," he announced, bending over with his hands on his knees, "that your dog is an absolute menace."

Hendrick trotted back into camp a few seconds later, looking impossibly pleased with himself.

Bryan sighed and looked at me. "He definitely gets that from you."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

By late morning we'd packed up enough snacks to survive what Mateo insisted on calling 'an expedition' and were on our way.

"It is an expedition," he argued as we started down the trail. "We've been walking for nearly an hour."

"We're hiking," Dylan corrected.

"Same thing."

"It really isn't."

Emma pulled out her phone to check the route. "So," she said, "the Fairy Pools should be another forty minutes if we keep this pace."

"I've wanted to see them for years," Bryan admitted. "My mum kept talking about them after she came here."

"What, because they're pretty?" Mateo asked.

Bryan shook his head. "No, because of the stories."

"Oh God."

"I'm serious."

Emma looked over her shoulder at us. "The old folklore says they're connected to the daoine sìth."

"The... what now?" Dylan frowned.

"The fairies," she translated. "Apparently people believed they lived around the pools because the water is so unnaturally clear."

Mateo gasped dramatically. "So we're walking into fairy territory?"

"You'll survive."

"How do you know? Maybe they don't like gay people."

Bryan bumped his shoulder. "If anything, they'll like you less because you're annoying."

I smiled to myself as their voices faded into another argument.

I'd heard bits and pieces about the folklore before. Every place in Scotland seemed to come with its own ghost story, haunted castle or ancient legend. It was one of the things I'd grown to love about living here. Even if you didn't believe any of it, it made the landscape feel... older somehow. Like the hills remembered things people didn't.

The trail curved around the mountainside, opening onto another breathtaking view. Crystal-clear water tumbled down black rock, disappearing into pools so impossibly blue they almost looked edited. Even from where we stood, I could hear the rush of the waterfalls carried on the wind.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The closer we got, the more impossible the water looked.

I'd seen hundreds of pictures online, but none of them had prepared me for seeing the Fairy Pools in person. Water tumbled over dark volcanic rock before collecting in crystal-clear pools that reflected the blue sky above us. The mountains rose behind them, still streaked with patches of green and grey, while the constant rush of the waterfalls drowned out almost every other sound.

"They can't be real," Emma breathed.

"They're definitely real," Mateo replied, already tugging his shirt over his head. "And I fully intend to freeze my ass off proving it."

Bryan laughed. "I give you thirty seconds."

"I'll have you know I am incredibly resilient."

"You cried because your iced coffee was too cold last week."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It caught me off guard."

Dylan shook his head. "I've never met someone so committed to losing every argument."

Mateo chose not to answer. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and sprinted towards the nearest pool. The scream that followed echoed through the valley. "HOLY SHIT!"

Bryan doubled over laughing. "I told you!"

"It's freezing!" Mateo yelled, already chest-deep in the water despite his protests. "Nobody warned me it would be this freezing!"

"We absolutely did," Emma called back.

"I thought you were exaggerating!"

I couldn't stop smiling as I unclipped Hendrick's lead. He'd been eyeing the water since we'd arrived, his tail wagging furiously. "Go on then." 

That was all the encouragement he needed. He bounded into the shallows, splashing so enthusiastically that Dylan immediately got soaked from the knees down.

"Hendrick!"

The dog looked entirely unapologetic. He barked once before paddling confidently into deeper water, circling Mateo, who was still dramatically complaining about hypothermia despite refusing to get out.

"You alright there?" I asked, pulling my own boots off.

"I'm dying."

"You look remarkably alive."

"I won't be for much longer."

Bryan rolled his eyes before slipping into the water beside him with considerably less fuss.

Emma and Dylan followed not long after, each reacting with the same sharp intake of breath as the cold water reached their waists.

"Oh wow," Emma gasped. "That's... actually painful."

"I suddenly understand why the fairies don't swim," Dylan muttered.

"They probably evolved." I laughed to myself before carefully stepping into the pool. The cold hit like a punch. "Oh my God."

"See?" Mateo called triumphantly. "Nobody believed me!"

"I believed you," I managed through chattering teeth. It took nearly a minute before my body stopped protesting enough for me to enjoy it. Once it did, though… I understood.

The water was so clear I could see every stone beneath my feet. Sunlight danced across the surface, painting shifting patterns over the rocks below. Tiny waterfalls fed the pools one after another, each somehow more beautiful than the last.

For a while nobody said much. We simply took in our surroundings. Enjoyed the rare Scottish sunshine warming our faces despite the freezing water surrounding us.

"I found the arch." Bryan's voice pulled us from our peaceful silence. He was treading water near the far side of the pool, pointing beneath the surface. "It's right here."

We swam over. 

Even standing in the water, I could just about make it out. The rock curved beneath the surface, forming a smooth opening just large enough for a person to swim through.

"It actually exists," Emma said.

"I told you," Bryan replied. "Apparently people always swim through it."

Mateo looked unconvinced. "So... voluntarily?"

Bryan nodded. "It's only a few metres."

"A few metres underwater." Dylan snorted.

"You've become so dramatic."

"I've always been dramatic."

"I know."

Emma peered into the water. "I'll go first."

Without waiting for anyone to object, she took a deep breath and disappeared beneath the surface.

A few long seconds passed. Then she resurfaced on the other side, immediately throwing both hands into the air. "I'm alive!"

Mateo looked almost disappointed. "Well, that's reassuring."

Bryan followed next, then Dylan. Each disappeared beneath the water for only a few seconds before resurfacing with wide grins.

Mateo sighed dramatically. "If I drown, I want you all to know this wasn't my idea."

"You literally ran into the water first," Bryan reminded him.

"That's unrelated." He filled his lungs with air before vanishing beneath the surface.

A moment later he burst back up, spluttering dramatically. "I hated every second of that."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You guys go ahead."

Emma floated lazily on her back. "We'll wait."

I nodded before taking a slow breath. The water lapped gently against my shoulders as I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Come on, Henny."

Hendrick paddled happily towards me, entirely unconcerned by the freezing water. I scratched behind one damp ear. "You stay up here." He wagged his tail.

Another deep breath, and then I ducked beneath the surface.

The world disappeared. Everything became muted.

The roar of the waterfalls faded into a dull hum as I opened my eyes. The water was impossibly clear. Shafts of sunlight reached all the way to the rocky floor, catching tiny air bubbles drifting lazily towards the surface. The arch wasn't very large, just wide enough.

I kicked gently, one hand brushing the smooth stone above me as I glided through.

Halfway underneath it, something changed.

At first I thought my ears needed to pop. A strange pressure built somewhere behind my eyes, like descending too quickly on an airplane. The current brushed against my skin, but not in the direction I expected. For a brief second it felt as though the water couldn't decide where it wanted to flow.

I frowned. Probably the cold.

Before I had time to think about it any further, the feeling disappeared. One more kick and my head broke the surface. I took a deep breath, wiping water from my face.

"Holy shit," I laughed quietly.

That wasn't nearly as- "Hendrick!"

Hendrick was already paddling towards me, sending little waves across the glass-like surface. I reached for his collar as soon as he was close enough, scratching behind one wet ear. "Good boy."

He leaned into my hand before letting out a soft whine.

I frowned. "You alright?"

Another wave of dizziness rolled over me. This one nearly made me let go of Hendrick. The air suddenly felt... heavier. Thicker. The hairs on the back of my neck stood upright. The sound of the waterfall stretched strangely, as though someone had turned the volume down while somehow making it echo louder at the same time.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Okay. That wasn't normal. Maybe I'd stayed underwater longer than I thought. Maybe I hadn't taken a proper breath beforehand.

I opened my eyes again. The mountains in front of me didn't look right. I blinked. Once. Twice. My stomach dropped. The ridgeline had… changed.

I spun around so quickly that water splashed over Hendrick's head. "Mateo?"

Only the waterfall answered. 

"Emma?"

Nothing.

No laughter.

No Dylan making another sarcastic comment.

No Bryan telling Mateo to stop complaining.

Silence. A silence that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago.

Hendrick pressed himself against me, his ears flattening as another quiet whine escaped him. For the first time since we'd reached the Fairy Pools, I wasn't cold anymore.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

I frowned at the mountains. Something wasn't right. It wasn't the kind of feeling I could immediately put into words. It was just... wrong. Like walking into your own house and realising someone had moved the furniture. Everything was still there, but not where it was supposed to be.

I blinked hard, again. The dizziness hadn't gone away.

"Hendrick." He paddled closer, bumping my arm with his nose. "Come on."

I turned in a slow circle, expecting to see Mateo floating on his back somewhere, or Emma climbing out onto the rocks. Maybe Bryan and Dylan had already wandered further downstream.

Nothing.

Just water.

Waterfalls.

Mountains.

My stomach tightened.

"Mateo?" My voice bounced off the cliffs and came back to me.

No answer came.

I swallowed. "This isn't funny!"

Still nothing.

I took a deep breath before ducking back beneath the surface. The water was as clear as before, sunlight filtering through it in long, wavering ribbons. I kicked towards where the arch should have been.

It wasn't there.

I stopped. Maybe I'd drifted. I surfaced for another breath before diving again, this time swimming further to the left.

Nothing. Only smooth rock.

"No..."

I tried again. And again. By the fourth dive my lungs were burning, panic beginning to creep into my chest. It had been right here. I knew it had. 

I broke the surface, gasping for air. "Hendrick, move."

He obediently paddled aside while I stared into the water, trying to convince myself I was simply looking in the wrong place. It had to be here. There wasn't enough room in the pool for me to have become this disoriented.

I dove one last time.

My fingertips traced every inch of the rock beneath the surface.

Solid.

Unbroken.

When I came back up, I stayed there, floating in silence. The arch was gone.

A laugh escaped me. Short and unsteady. "Okay." I rubbed the water from my face. "Okay..."

I was panicking.

That was all this was. I'd stayed underwater a little too long. The cold had gone to my head. I just needed to get out, sit down for a minute and find the others. They were probably wondering where I'd disappeared to.

I climbed onto the rocks, Hendrick scrambling up beside me and immediately shaking himself dry.

"Thanks."

Water sprayed straight into my face.

He looked pleased with himself. Normally I would've laughed. Instead, I turned towards the path we'd come down. Except… There wasn't one.

I frowned.

No wooden steps. No worn trail winding through the grass. No backpacks left on the rocks. No voices carried on the breeze. No hikers.

The Fairy Pools had been busy when we'd arrived. Families. Couples. A photographer trying to convince his girlfriend to stand in the freezing water.

Where had everyone gone?

I walked a little further. Surely I was looking in the wrong direction. The valley opened around me, rolling into hills covered in heather and scattered trees. Beautiful. Completely unfamiliar.

"Mateo!"

Nothing.

"Emma!"

Only the waterfall answered.

The dizziness returned without warning. Hard enough that I stumbled. A wave of warmth spread beneath my skin, completely at odds with the cool breeze brushing over my wet clothes.

I pressed a hand against my forehead. Maybe I was coming down with something. Maybe swimming in water cold enough to preserve a body hadn't been my brightest idea.

I took another few steps. The warmth spread higher, settling across my shoulders.

The familiar ache beneath my shoulder blades flared sharply.

I winced. "Seriously?" The scars hadn't hurt this much in years. I rolled my shoulders, trying to stretch whatever muscle I'd irritated carrying my backpack. It only made the ache worse.

Hendrick whined softly. 

"I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced, but I kept walking. Five minutes, maybe ten. Time had become strangely difficult to judge. Every hill looked like the last one. Every cluster of trees seemed identical. The waterfall had disappeared behind me long ago. I hadn't found a road. Or a path. Or another person. The only sound now was the wind moving through the grass.

A knot of unease settled in my stomach. This wasn't right. Even if I'd somehow wandered away from the Fairy Pools, I should've crossed another hiking trail by now. I should've seen someone. Anyone.

The warmth beneath my skin was becoming unbearable, consuming. Like I had a fever that had arrived in the space of a few minutes.

My legs suddenly felt impossibly heavy. "Hendrick..."

He was already beside me. Close enough that his shoulder brushed my knee as we walked. "I think..."

The sentence never finished. My vision blurred around the edges and the world tilted.

I reached for the nearest tree on instinct, catching myself against the rough bark before I hit the ground.

"Okay." I took a slow breath. "Just..."

Sit down for a minute. Then find some water. Everything would make sense again in a minute. It had to.

I slid down until I was sitting with my back against the trunk. Hendrick immediately curled himself against my side, resting his head in my lap. My fingers found his fur automatically.

He felt warm, familiar, real. I closed my eyes for what I promised myself would only be a moment.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙

The western wards shimmered beneath his power.

Rhys slowed his flight, wings catching the late afternoon air as invisible threads of magic stretched across the mountainside. To anyone else there would have been nothing to see. To him, centuries of spells intertwined with the landscape itself, woven carefully through rivers, forests and stone until Velaris became little more than a whisper to those who weren't meant to find it.

A faint weakness tugged at the edge of his senses. It wasn’t broken, just thinner than it had been a month ago. He hovered, extending a hand towards the unseen barrier. Violet light rippled from his fingertips, disappearing into the ward as the weakened thread strengthened once more.

Peace demanded a different kind of vigilance.

The city no longer stood on the brink of war, but that hardly meant his work was finished. Wards had to be maintained. Borders watched. Reports answered. His people deserved to sleep without wondering what tomorrow might bring.

Satisfied, he banked west, continuing along the edge of the city's protections.

The forests below stretched endlessly towards the coast, broken only by rivers cutting through the mountains.

Movement caught his eye.

He instinctively reached for his power before stilling.

Not a wolf. Not a fox. Not any creature he recognised. The animal stood in a patch of sunlight, its golden coat gleaming against the green hillside. It was built like a hunting dog, though broader through the chest than any breed he'd encountered. It neither fled nor bared its teeth.

Instead, it looked directly at him with curious eyes.

Rhys circled once overhead.

The creature's scent drifted upwards.

It smelled like wet fur and fresh water. Rhys detected no fear, no aggression, there was just concern.

He landed several yards away, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.

"You're certainly unusual."

The animal's ears lifted. Its tail giving one cautious sweep across the grass. Then it barked. Once, clear and sharp.

Before Rhys could take another step, it turned and trotted into the trees.

After a few paces, it stopped and looked back. Like it was waiting.

Rhys folded his arms. "You're trying to show me something."

Another bark.

The creature disappeared deeper into the forest. 

Every instinct told him to remain cautious. The war had taught him better than to trust coincidences. Yet something about the animal's behaviour felt earnest. It wasn't luring him. It was asking him to follow.

So he did.

The golden creature never strayed far ahead, glancing back every few moments to make sure he remained behind it. If Rhys slowed, it slowed. If he stopped, it waited.

Eventually the trees began to thin, the scent of fresh water growing stronger.

Then...

Human.

Rhys immediately became alert.

The animal rounded the trunk of an old oak before disappearing from sight.

When Rhys stepped into the clearing, he understood why. A young woman lay unconscious beneath the tree. She couldn't have been much older than twenty-five.

Long hair, still damp, clung to her face and shoulders. She wore only unfamiliar clothing unlike anything he'd seen before, dark fabric that fit close to her body, clearly intended for swimming rather than travel. She was barefoot, her feet scratched from walking over stone and woodland undergrowth.

No cloak.

No pack.

No boots.

No weapon.

It made no sense.

The golden animal hurried to her side, pressing its nose against her limp hand before looking expectantly back at Rhys.

She didn't stir.

He crossed the clearing in two strides and crouched beside her.

Alive. Her pulse was steady beneath his fingers. Her breathing was calm. There were no wounds, there was no blood. Just an alarming warmth radiating from her skin. A fever.

His brow furrowed.

The animal remained beside her, watching every movement he made. It never growled. Never attempted to place itself between them. If anything it seemed relieved he was there.

"You know I'm trying to help."

The creature blinked at him before resting its head gently against the woman's shoulder.

Rhys looked back at her. Nothing about this added up. A human female did not simply wander into the western forests half-dressed and barefoot. Not without provisions, or without someone searching for her.

Carefully, he brushed against her sleeping mind.

Dreams drifted past him.

No, not dreams. Memories. A shoreline beneath an impossibly bright sun. Towering buildings of glass that reached into the clouds. Strange metal machines moving faster than any horse. Crowded streets. Music. Laughter. The same golden creature racing across a beach after a thrown stick. Friends sitting around a campfire. A man laughing as the animal stole food straight from his hands. 

Words surfaced among the memories. California. Scotland. Neither meant anything to him.

He searched deeper. Looking for something familiar. Childhood. Parents. At first, he found nothing out of the ordinary. A little girl chasing butterflies through a garden. Camping trips with her family. A younger version of the golden creature tumbling clumsily across a living room floor. Ordinary memories. Ordinary moments. Only when he instinctively pushed beyond them, searching for something earlier, did he realise something was wrong.

The memories simply began, there was no barrier preventing him from looking further. There was only emptiness. As though someone had cut away the beginning of her life with impossible precision.

Rhys withdrew immediately. That was no ordinary spell. He had seen minds broken. He had seen memories hidden. He had never encountered memories that simply ceased to exist.

Slowly, he extended the smallest thread of power towards her once more. The fever beneath her skin pulsed strangely. As if something deep within her answered his magic. For less than a heartbeat. A flicker. Wild and ancient. It wasn’t human, and it was gone before he could grasp it.

Rhys remained perfectly still. He wasn't imagining it. Something had been hidden inside this woman.

The golden animal let out a soft whine, nudging her hand again.

Rhys glanced at it. "I know."

He slid one arm beneath her knees, another behind her shoulders, lifting her carefully from the ground. She barely moved. Only a quiet breath escaped her lips as her head rested against his shoulder.

The animal immediately fell into step beside him. Not once did it hesitate or question him. As if it had already decided he was the safest place she could be.

Rhys glanced at the golden creature. "Forgive me." It watched him with wary brown eyes. "I don't intend to leave you behind." He reached out slowly, allowing it every opportunity to retreat. Instead, the creature stepped closer, pressing its shoulder against the unconscious woman's leg.

Rhys rested one hand against its broad back while adjusting the woman more securely in his other arm.

Darkness folded around them.

Another one shot!! I wrote this one maybe a year ago, but I never worked up the courage to post any fics up until maybe a week ago Needless to say, I have a million drafts. This one will remain a one shot.

Also since they wouldn't call each other 'man' or 'woman' I'm not entirely sure they'd say 'my girl' but for the sake of this story... yes they do.

The Motherlist

Summary: sometimes love isn't knowing the right thing to say. Sometimes it's recognising when the person you love has reached their limit, and quietly bringing them home.

Content warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, panic attack, anxiety, emotional distress, sensory overload, brief depiction of overwhelm, minor profanity

The bell above the café door gave its usual soft chime. 

It was still dark outside. Velaris had begun stirring awake, but only just. The streets beyond the windows were painted in shades of blue and silver, lanterns still glowing while the first hint of dawn crept over the rooftops. Bakers had been awake for hours, their ovens filling the Sidra district with the comforting scent of fresh bread.

Behind the counter, she was reaching for a bag of freshly roasted beans. "Good morning," she called without looking up. "I'll be with you in-"

The words died on her tongue. A smile spread across her face before she'd even realised it.

Azriel had barely closed the door before she was around the counter. He had enough presence of mind to open his arms, and she walked straight into them.

The impact wasn't hard, but it was enough to make him take half a step backwards as her arms slipped around his waist. His own wrapped around her instantly, holding her close with a quiet sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his chest.

Gods, he was home. He buried his face against the side of her neck. She smelled exactly as she always did. Fresh coffee and vanilla, of something sweet he had never been able to identify after all these years.

He breathed her in as though he hadn't taken a proper breath in days. Perhaps he hadn't.

A soft giggle escaped her. "I've missed you too."

"Mhm, my love..." Another slow inhale. "You smell nice."

She laughed again, the sound vibrating gently beneath his cheek. "I smell like coffee."

"You smell like you."

His shadows drifted lazily around them, melting into the morning light. One curled happily around her wrist while another settled over their joined shoulders like a content cat.

"You've gone soft," she murmured.

"I've always been soft."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. "No."

"No?"

"You've always pretended you weren't."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "That sounds more accurate."

She reached up, smoothing an imaginary crease from the collar of his leathers. "You look exhausted."

"I look handsome."

"You look both."

"I'll accept that."

Her fingers lingered against his jaw. He leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. The smile that spread across her face made something warm settle low in his chest. After all these years, she still smiled at him like that.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth. Each one earning another quiet laugh until she was shaking her head.

"You are impossible."

"I've been gone for six days."

"So that earns you unlimited kisses?"

"I was rather hoping."

"I suppose..." She pretended to consider it. "I'll allow it."

He smiled (a real one this time) and finally kissed her properly, slowly, without hurry. The sort of kiss that belonged to people who had long since stopped trying to impress each other. It was familiar, comfortable, filled with quiet affection rather than urgency. 

When they finally drew apart, she rested her forehead against his. "You know," she said softly, "you could at least pretend you came here for the coffee."

"I did."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I just happened to miss the barista."

"I see."

"Terribly inconvenient."

She laughed, the sound bright enough to chase away what little remained of the night's exhaustion. He'd been hearing screams, clashing steel and whispered reports for nearly a week.

This. This was the first beautiful sound he'd heard in days.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

The familiar scent of coffee still lingered in the air long after she'd closed the door for the day. She stood behind the counter, stacking freshly washed mugs onto the shelf above the espresso machine while the last rays of afternoon sunlight spilled through the front windows. The café always felt different once the customers had gone. Quieter. Softer. The constant chatter replaced by the occasional clink of porcelain and the low hum of the machine cooling after a busy day.

Her favourite time.

"Do you ever stop cleaning?"

She glanced over her shoulder. Azriel sat in his usual chair beside the window, one boot stretched out beneath the table, a book balanced open on his lap. She was almost certain he'd been reading the same page for the last twenty minutes.

"I own the place."

"You've been wiping that counter for at least five minutes."

"It keeps the counter clean."

"It was already clean."

"It can be cleaner."

"Hm."

She smiled. "I've decided you secretly enjoy watching me clean."

He finally looked up from the book, his brows lifting. "No, I enjoy watching you pretend you're not cleaning because you enjoy it."

"I clean because customers have touched everything."

"They're paying customers."

"They're sticky paying customers."

A quiet laugh escaped him. Something tightened in her chest. She'd missed that laugh while he'd been away. He'd only been home for three days after a week-long mission, but somehow the café already felt whole again simply because he occupied one of its chairs every afternoon. He'd arrive with a book, order a coffee she insisted he didn't need because he'd already had two, read approximately four pages and then spend the rest of the afternoon watching her instead.

She'd caught him doing exactly that more times than she could count. 

"You've read the same sentence six times."

"I have not."

"You've been on that page since Mrs. Elowen came in."

He glanced at the book. "Perhaps the author is very repetitive."

"I think the author deserves a better reader."

"I was distracted."

"By?"

He closed the book with a quiet snap. "You."

She shook her head fondly. "You really need some hobbies."

"I have hobbies."

"You brood."

"I do not brood."

"You absolutely brood."

"I observe."

"Broodingly."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "I missed you."

The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that they stole the breath from her lungs for a moment. She rounded the counter before she could think better of it. "You've been sitting ten feet away from me all afternoon."

"It was too far."

"Was it?"

"Mhm."

She stopped between his knees and he reached for her without hesitation, his hands settling around her waist as naturally as breathing.

"There," he murmured.

"Better?"

"Much."

She smiled, smoothing a stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead. He leaned instinctively into her touch. "You know," she said quietly, "I'm beginning to think you don't actually come here for the coffee."

"I come here for the barista."

"I knew it."

"The coffee is an added bonus."

"I've been saying that for years."

"I've been agreeing for years."

She laughed softly before leaning down to kiss his forehead. He caught her before she could pull away. One hand slid gently to the back of her neck. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, then her cheek, and by the time his lips finally found hers, she was already smiling.

"You planned that," she murmured against his mouth.

"I did."

"It was terribly manipulative."

"You laughed."

"I always laugh."

"I know."

His forehead rested against hers for a quiet moment. No words, they'd never needed many.

Someone knocked on the door, the bell above the café door jingling immediately after, but neither of them moved.

A familiar voice called through the still-open doorway. "...Am I interrupting?"

Cassian.

She laughed immediately. "You always are."

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "I knocked."

Azriel sighed without opening his eyes. "You didn’t wait for an invitation."

Cassian grinned. "Rhys sent me."

"He absolutely did not." Azriel grumbled. She chuckled and pulled away from him. He looked up at her with the expression of a male wronged.

"No, he didn’t.”

"I knew it." She said as she went back behind the counter to finish closing up.

"I got hungry."

"You live ten minutes away."

"I know where the better coffee is."

She folded her arms. "We're closed."

"I noticed, so I thought I'd emotionally manipulate you."

"You've been spending too much time with Rhys." She said.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He wandered further into the café, eyeing the pastry display.

"Don't."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were."

"I was considering it."

Azriel opened one eye. "You'll lose a hand."

"I'll lose a hand?”

"My girl's surprisingly protective of her pastries."

Cassian snorted. "I've noticed."

She tried not to smile at my girl. After all these years it still did something ridiculous to her heart.

Cassian leaned against the counter. "So, dinner.”

"Oh!" She looked up. "Tonight?"

"The whole family's coming." Cassian counted on his fingers. "Rhys. Feyre. Nyx. Mor. Amren's promised she'll stay for at least one course, which means approximately twenty-three minutes, and Nesta made dessert."

"Dessert?" she repeated.

"Nesta baked."

She gasped theatrically. "Should we be frightened?"

"I asked the same question. I hope Elain helped."

Azriel chuckled quietly. "It'll be edible."

"You sound remarkably confident."

"I value my life."

Cassian nodded solemnly. "Wise."

She couldn't help smiling, she loved evenings at the River House. Nobody needed an excuse to gather anymore nowadays. Sometimes Rhys simply decided he missed everyone. Sometimes Feyre wanted to try a new recipe. Sometimes Nyx declared it family night and nobody dared argue.

It was loud, chaotic, comfortable.

She looked at Azriel. "Dinner?"

He met her eyes.

He considered, just for a heartbeat, the evening he'd imagined instead.

The two of them at home, windows open. A late dinner eaten on the sofa. Her tucked beneath his arm while she inevitably stole sips from his drink despite insisting she wasn't thirsty. Her giggling and ending up entangled in each other in their bed. Or anywhere, really.

He realised, with some surprise, that he actually felt… Fine. The mission already felt distant. He'd slept properly. Three nights in his own bed, next to his great love. Three peaceful mornings. Three afternoons spent exactly where he wanted to be. He wasn't tired anymore. At least not enough to miss an evening with family.

"You look like you're thinking very hard," she teased.

"I was."

"And?"

He smiled. "I think dinner sounds nice."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

Something warm settled in his chest at the sight of her smile. Worth it. Already worth it.

"Perfect!" Cassian clapped his hands together. "An hour?"

"We'll be there," she said.

"I'll warn Feyre."

"You mean tell her."

"I said what I meant." The door swung shut behind him.

Silence returned almost instantly. She looked back at Azriel. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You know."

He genuinely didn't. 

She stepped closer again, taking both his hands in hers. He raised out of his chair to meet her. "I know you love quiet evenings."

"So do you."

"I do." She smiled. "But I also love family dinners."

"I know."

"I haven't seen everyone together in weeks."

"I know."

She squeezed his hands. "I appreciate it."

He lifted one hand to her cheek. "There isn't anything to appreciate."

She leaned into his palm. "I think there is."

He kissed her forehead. 

"Come on." She smiled. "We should head home and get changed."

He collected his book from the table before slipping his free hand into hers.

They stepped out into the golden evening together, their fingers automatically intertwining as they walked through the streets of Velaris.

Neither of them noticed the way one of his shadows lingered just a little closer than usual. Or how, somewhere beneath the contentment of returning home and spending another evening with family, the exhaustion he'd thought he'd left behind was waiting patiently for him to stop moving.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

The River House had always been loud, not unpleasantly , but comfortably loud. The sort of loud born from people who loved each other enough to talk over one another without anyone taking offence.

Cassian was halfway through recounting some story about training when Mor interrupted to insist he was exaggerating. "I am not."

"You absolutely are."

"I've never exaggerated a day in my life."

Nesta snorted into her wine. "You've exaggerated three times in that sentence alone."

Across the table, Feyre laughed while Rhys reached for another basket of bread.

"Az," Cassian called. "Back me up."

Azriel looked up from where he'd been quietly cutting into the roast. "About?"

Cassian frowned. "My story."

"I wasn't listening."

A chorus of laughter erupted around the table. "See?" Mor grinned. "Even Az knows you're boring."

"I was talking to him!"

"You were shouting at everyone."

"I don’t shout, I project."

"You deafen." 

Azriel smiled despite himself. The warmth of the room settled around him, firelight danced across polished wood, the smell of roasted herbs drifted through the dining room.

His girl sat beside him, their knees touching beneath the table.

She reached for another potato. Without looking, she placed one onto his plate first. He smiled at the habit.

She caught it and smiled back.

For a while, everything was good.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

Nyx insisted everyone admire the newest drawing he'd brought downstairs. "It looks just like Uncle Cassian," he announced proudly.

Cassian stared at the stick figure. "...Why does Uncle Cassian have six arms?"

"So he can carry more swords."

Rhys laughed so suddenly wine almost came out of his nose. 

Amren looked over the top of her glass. "It does resemble him."

"It does not!"

"It absolutely does."

"I only have two arms."

"At the moment."

Everyone started talking again. Mor asked Feyre something. Nesta answered instead. Cassian protested his artistic representation. Nyx defended himself passionately.

Someone passed another bottle of wine. Someone else reached for salt. A chair scraped backwards. The fire popped.

Azriel rubbed absently at the back of his neck.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

He'd stopped contributing to the conversation without noticing. It wasn't intentional, listening simply required less effort. His shadows hovered unusually close, weaving lazily around his shoulders instead of wandering through the room as they usually did. One settled against the back of his chair, another wrapping itself around his wrist.

He hadn't realised how tightly he was gripping his fork until his fingers began to ache. He loosened them.

Across the table, Feyre asked him something.

He looked up. "Sorry?"

"I asked whether you'd seen the new gallery by the Rainbow."

"...No."

"You'd love it."

"I'll have to go."

She smiled.

Conversation flowed onward before he could think of anything else to add. He let it.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

Another hour passed. Or perhaps twenty minutes. He wasn't entirely sure. Time seemed to have become strangely slippery. The room felt warmer than before.

Someone had opened another bottle, Cassian laughed. Gods, had he always laughed that loudly?

A log shifted in the fireplace with a sharp crack. His shoulders twitched at the sound before he could stop them.

He took another sip of wine. It did nothing, his temples had begun to throb.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

"My turn!" Nyx scrambled onto his chair. "I made another one!" He proudly held up a fresh drawing.

Feyre smiled. "Oh, sweetheart-"

His elbow caught the edge of his cup. It tipped, red juice spreading across the tablecloth. Straight through the middle of the drawing. For one impossibly small heartbeat...

Nobody moved.

Then-

"No!" Nyx burst into tears.

Every chair moved at once. "It's alright-" "We can make another-" "Where's a cloth?" "Oh, sweetheart-" "Don't touch it yet-" "I'll get towels-" "It's only juice." 

Voices. Too many voices. The scrape of wood. Footsteps. Glass. The fire. The crying.

The heartbeat beside him, the heartbeat across from him.

Cassian.

Rhys.

Feyre.

Elain.

Nyx.

Mor.

Nesta.

Amren.

All at once. None of them separated anymore.

His shadows shot towards the ceiling. Searching. Searching for somewhere, anywhere. Quiet.

Azriel swallowed. His throat felt strangely tight. He reached for his wine, but missed the stem entirely. The glass rattled against the table.

He frowned. Why had-

Someone touched his shoulder. He flinched hard.

The room lurched.

No, not the room. His vision. He blinked. The fire suddenly seemed brighter. Too bright. Every colour sharper. Every sound-

Every sound.

Someone was speaking to him. He couldn't understand the words. Only the volume.

His heartbeat joined the others. Fast. Faster.

His chest tightened. He drew in a breath. Not enough. Another. Still not enough. His lungs refused to fill, there was not enough air.

Why wasn't there- "My love."

Everything stopped. Not the room.

He focussed on her voice- her voice... Soft. Close.

He turned towards it. She was looking at him, staring up at him with nothing but concern. She reached up, brushing her fingers gently through the hair at the back of his head.

The familiar movement she'd done a thousand times. His eyes closed, his body sagging before he could stop it. The relief was so immediate it almost hurt. He hadn't realised how hard he'd been holding himself together.

"My love." She repeated.

He tried to answer, but nothing came. He tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn’t work.

His hands were shaking. When had they started shaking?

She moved closer, her thumb brushing slowly across the back of his neck. "I've got you."

Another breath.

Too fast.

His chest burned.

No.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

He opened his eyes. The room swam. Everyone had stopped talking. Cassian stood frozen. Rhys was watching him. Feyre still held Nyx in her arms, though the little boy had stopped crying entirely.

The silence pressed against his ears. Too many eyes. Too many-

"I'm..." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I'm..." He couldn't remember what he'd been trying to say.

Air.

He needed air.

His vision narrowed. The edges of the room darkened. His heartbeat became deafening. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to get out. To find somewhere dark. Somewhere quiet.

His chair scraped violently backwards. He stood too quickly. The room tilted. A hand caught his elbow before he could lose his balance.

Her.

Always her.

"I'm taking him home," she said quietly.

It wasn’t a question, and nobody argued.

She slipped one arm around his waist, and he hated how much he needed it. Hated that his legs suddenly didn't seem entirely trustworthy.

"Hey." She said it so gently he almost broke all over again. "You don't have to talk."

He nodded, or thought he did. He wasn't sure anymore. The walk to the front door felt impossibly long, his breathing still refusing to slow. His scarred hands had curled so tightly into fists his knuckles ached.

He barely noticed Rhys opening the front door before they reached it.

The cool evening air hit his face. He stumbled onto the porch.

One breath.

Another.

Still not enough.

Behind him, the door closed. The noise disappeared instantly. Only then did he realise he'd been holding himself together for the better part of an hour.

And only now-

Safe.

With her.

Home waiting just across the city.

Only now did he finally allow himself to fall completely apart.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

The front door had barely closed before he folded.

It wasn’t gracefully. It wasn’t dramatically. One moment he was standing in the hallway, fingers still wrapped around the handle as though he hadn't quite remembered to let go. The next, his knees buckled. 

She caught him before they hit the floor. "My love." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I've got you."

He tried to apologise. He wasn't entirely sure what for. For leaving, maybe. For worrying her. For ruining dinner. For not being able to- 

Another breath refused to come.

His chest tightened until it bordered on pain, every inhale shallow enough to feel useless, every exhale trembling despite how hard he fought to steady it.

"I'm here." She guided him down instead of trying to hold him upright, sitting with him on the hallway floor as though there were nowhere else in the world she needed to be.

His shadows gathered around them almost immediately. Not restless anymore. but protective.

One curled around her wrist. Another settled across his shoulders like a heavy blanket.

He buried his face against her shoulder. "I can't..." His voice broke.

"I know."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

"I'm trying."

"I know, my love."

She never once told him to calm down. Never said he was overreacting. Never told him to breathe. Instead she simply stayed.

One hand disappeared into his hair, fingers combing slowly through the dark strands at the back of his head in the same gentle rhythm she'd used countless times before. The other remained between his shoulder blades, steady and warm, never hurrying, never demanding anything from him except that he let her stay.

His shadows drifted towards them. Not restless anymore. Protective. One wrapped itself around her wrist as though seeking reassurance for itself. Another settled over Azriel's shoulders like an impossibly soft blanket.

She smiled faintly. "There you are, I've got him." The shadow tightened ever so slightly around her wrist, as though it had understood, it probably had.

Azriel's breathing remained uneven. Every few seconds another tremor travelled through him, his body refusing to believe the danger had passed despite the silence surrounding them.

She rested her cheek against his hair. "There's nowhere you have to be tonight." Another slow stroke through his hair. "Nobody expects anything from you."

His fingers tightened weakly against the fabric of her dress. "I'm sorry."

Her heart broke. She pulled back just enough to cup his face. His eyes were red. Not from crying. Not yet anyway. From fighting it.

"Oh, Az." Her thumbs brushed gently across his cheeks. "What on earth are you apologising for?"

"I..." He swallowed hard. "Dinner."

She stared at him for a heartbeat before shaking her head. "You have absolutely nothing to apologise for."

"I ruined-"

"No." Her voice remained impossibly gentle. "You came home."

He looked at her as though he didn't understand the difference.

"You didn't ruin anything."

His breathing hitched again. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "We'll make another dinner." Another kiss. "We'll have another evening with everyone." Another. "But there is only one place you needed to be tonight." She rested her forehead against his. "Here."

Something inside him cracked. Not dramatically, just enough. The first tear escaped before he even realised he was crying. Then another. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"Az" She brushed the tear away with her thumb. "You never have to apologise for falling apart with me."

That did it. The words seemed to slip straight past every wall he'd spent centuries building. His shoulders shook once. Then again. The tears came silently, soaking into the shoulder of her dress as he hid his face against her neck.

She simply held him, and didn't attempt to fix what couldn't be fixed.

Just quiet.

Just home.

Just love.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

She wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed before his breathing finally began to settle. The panic hadn't disappeared. It had simply loosened its grip enough for him to breathe without fighting for every inhale.

She kissed his temple. "I'm going to get you some water."

His fingers tightened instinctively around her sleeve.

She smiled. "I'll be right back."

Only when he reluctantly let go did she disappear into the kitchen. She returned less than half a minute later with a glass of cold water.

She didn’t expect him to drink it, but the cold helped. Sometimes feeling the cool glass against his hands gave his mind something tangible to hold onto. She placed it between his palms. "There."

He stared at it. After a long moment, he managed a single sip.

"Good."

She opened the sitting room window. Cool evening air drifted inside, carrying with it the scent of the Sidra and distant jasmine blooming somewhere in the garden. The room immediately felt easier to breathe in.

She crouched beside him again. "May I?"

He looked down at himself before nodding once. Her fingers worked carefully at the buckles fastening his leathers. She worked efficiently. She’d done this after difficult missions or anxiety ridden moments before. Not often, but enough.

The first buckle came free.

Then another.

Truth-Teller rested against his side. She unfastened the familiar straps before laying the dagger carefully on the coffee table.

His siphons followed. The faint glow faded from each stone as she placed them beside the dagger. A shadow had somehow managed to curl itself around one of the straps. She smiled softly as she untangled it. "There."

It drifted immediately back towards Azriel, settling contentedly around his shoulder.

"There you go."

He watched her through tired eyes. "I love you."

The words were rough, barely audible.

She looked up. "I know." She smiled. "I love you."

She slowly helped him to his feet and they shuffled the few steps towards the sofa together, him leaning more heavily against her than he ever normally would. She didn't mention it. Simply guided him down onto the cushions before disappearing for a moment. When she returned, there was already a blanket folded over one arm. She tucked it around both of them before settling beside him.

Almost immediately he instinctively turned towards her. His head found its usual place against her shoulder. She smiled to herself and wrapped an arm around him.

Outside, the city carried on exactly as it always had. Inside, the house had become wonderfully still.

The silence wasn't empty.

It was kind.

𖦹๋࣭⭑

By the time the room had darkened enough for the fire to become the brightest thing in it, neither of them had spoken in several minutes. She didn't mind, neither did he.

His breathing had finally settled into something approaching normal. The tension had left his shoulders. One shadow floated lazily across the ceiling. Another had curled itself around both of their ankles beneath the blanket.

His stomach growled. He closed his eyes.

"...I heard that."

"I was hoping you wouldn't."

She laughed quietly. "I've got excellent hearing."

"You've been spending too much time with me."

"I learned from the best."

He let out the smallest laugh. It was fragile, still tired. But very  real.

She smiled. "Sandwich?"

He looked at her. "...Please."

"I was thinking ham."

"I love you."

"I know." She kissed the top of his head. "I make exceptional sandwiches."

"You really do."

She disappeared into the kitchen. He listened to the familiar sounds. The cupboard opening. A knife against the chopping board. The soft creak of the refrigerator. Just ordinary. Wonderfully ordinary.

When she returned, balancing two generously filled sandwiches on wooden plates, she found him exactly where she'd left him. Except now one of his shadows was sitting proudly on the arm of the sofa.

"Guarding your spot?" The shadow twirled once. "I appreciate the dedication."

Azriel smiled. "They're showing off."

"They deserve praise."

"They're insufferable."

"They learned from you."

He accepted one of the sandwiches. She tucked her feet beneath herself, curling comfortably against his side beneath the blanket. For several quiet minutes, the only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and the occasional contented hum escaping her whenever she decided her sandwich was particularly good. Halfway through, she quietly slid the remaining half of hers onto his plate.

He looked down. Then sideways at her. "You were hungry."

"I wasn't."

"You've eaten three bites."

"I'm full."

He looked at her for another second. Then, without saying a word, tore his own sandwich in half and placed one piece back onto her plate.

She looked at it. Looked at him. She simply smiled and picked it up again. He reached for her hand beneath the blanket instead. Their fingers intertwined automatically, as though they'd done it a thousand times before. Perhaps they had.

The fire crackled softly. The wind rustled through the open window. His shadows drifted lazily around the room, slower now than they'd been all evening.

Peaceful.

His head gradually grew heavier against her shoulder.

She smiled without looking down. "Tired?"

"Mhm."

"You should sleep."

"I will… Eventually." 

She laughed under her breath. "I know."

He pressed a slow kiss against her temple. "I should've told you."

She looked at him. "I thought you'd enjoy dinner."

"I did." He frowned.

She smiled gently.

"I enjoyed seeing everyone."

A pause. "But if you'd told me you wanted to stay home..." She brushed her fingers through his hair once more. "...we would've stayed home."

He looked down at their joined hands. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Baby." She waited until he met her eyes again. "You could never disappoint me by telling me what you need."

The words settled quietly between them.

No grand revelation.

Just something worth remembering.

He nodded once. "I'll try."

"I know you will." She leaned over and kissed him slowly and unhurriedly, filled with all the quiet affection they'd built over more than a decade together.

When they pulled apart, she mumbled against his mouth. "What do you want right now?"

He didn't even have to think. "This."

She smiled. "Good. So do I."

Outside, Velaris glowed beneath the stars, music and laughter drifting faintly across the Sidra from taverns that would remain open long into the night.

Inside, wrapped in a blanket on a worn sofa with half-eaten sandwiches forgotten on the coffee table and the love of his life tucked safely beneath his arm, Azriel finally found the quiet he'd been searching for all evening.

I totally intended for this to be a one shot but I might have to turn this into a short series because I don't feel like I'm done with them oh my god. LMK if you want a part two in the comments! I wrote this in one night when I couldn't sleep last weekend, so bear with me. Might go back in and edit mistakes later.

The Motherlist - part two

Word count: 12000 (this got out of hand)

Summary: a chance encounter at Rita's leads Azriel and a female to an unexpected friendship. As their connection deepens, both must confront old wounds, quiet fears, and the courage it takes to let someone in.

Content Warnings: Trauma (referenced childhood abuse), emotional abuse, loneliness, grief, anxiety, emotional vulnerability, canon-typical violence, mild profanity.

He lasted fifteen minutes before hurrying outside. The second the door to Rita's closed behind him, the music dulled into a distant thrum. It was still loud enough that he could feel the bass vibrating faintly through the soles of his boots, but it no longer threatened to split his head in two.

A cool breeze rolled off the Sidra, carrying with it the scent of river water, fresh bread from a bakery that had started preparing for the morning, and the faint sweetness of blooming flowers hanging from windowsills above the street.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment. Better. Inside, there had simply been too much. Too many conversations overlapping until they became impossible to separate. Too many heartbeats. Too many emotions. His shadows had spent the entire evening weaving restlessly around him, unable to settle. Out here, they slowed.