now i'm at the prospect convention

Azriel sat hunched over in the plush velvet chair in Rhysand’s office. His elbows dug into his strong thighs as he clasped his hands together, focusing on the slow, mindless movement of his thumb over the ball of his knuckle.

“I think the Cauldron got it wrong.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian asserted eloquently.

“The Cauldron doesn’t simply ‘get things wrong’,” Rhysand said softly from where he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed contemplatively over his chest. Cassian, lounging in the chair across from Azriel, threw his hands in the air.

“It takes longer for some people than others, you know.”

“I knew far before Feyre did,” Rhysand supplemented.

“Anyone with eyes can tell how she feels about you. It’s beyond me you don’t see the way she looks at you, brother.”

Azriel was at a loss. Pining after the same woman for decades proved brutal on the heart. Downright treacherous, really, considering he felt the mating bond snap a long time ago and she had given almost no indication she felt anything of the like.

He knew she liked him in the way a person “likes” their best friend who knows them inside out, has been with them through every insignificant or life-altering moment, and embraces every part of them– even the messy bits. No, Azriel had no doubt in his mind that she loved him. She’d said as much multiple times, which left him feeling even more confused.

He didn’t want to push her for fear of ruining what they already had. Things were good, he’d even go so far as to say things were perfect between the two of them. He knew he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, the picture of good, and there were many things he’d done wrong to get to where he is today. Still, she was the one thing he did right. The best part about his life. Whether she knew it or not, it was his truth and he swore if it came down to it, he’d stand to do right by her before Prythian.

“She just has everything together. I don’t want to take up space in a life where she has everything figured out. We are in good places in each other's lives. I would hate to pressure her to change any of it for me.”

“You say that as if you'd be ruining her life,” Cassian’s anger simmered to a sadness. “She’d never think that.”

“And what about you?” Rhysand interjected. “You’re breaking your own heart waiting for her to feel the bond snap. Maybe you need to help her on.”

“I would never put her on the spot like that.”

“I wasn’t suggesting–”

“What if she’d rejected the bond somehow?” Azriel stood up, legs suddenly overcome with the sensation of a thousand little fire ants devouring his skin.

“Now you’re just making shit up.” Cassian huffed, returning to anger.

“How else can any of this be possible? How can she be so oblivious?”

“There is one way,” Rhys offered, suddenly solemn.

Azriel and Cassian looked to their brother expectantly. Azriel felt his heart hammer against his chest in anticipation. A reason was good. A reason was a start. A reason meant that there was a way out of this purgatory he found himself in.

“I read it in one of Amren’s books a long time ago,” Rhys locked eyes with Azriel. “When the mating bond has snapped into place for one of the fae in the pair and the other has absolutely no indication of it, usually it is a sign that they are not looking for a mating bond at all.”

“A lot of people don’t go looking for it,” Cassian reasoned. “I myself was more of the let-it-happen-when-it-will type.”

“Not looking for it in the sense that they don’t believe they deserve it. In the way that perhaps it's simply not meant for them.”

Silence fell over the three males. Azriel felt his heart shatter, pieces of it falling deep into his gut, turning it over and making him uneasy.

“If anyone doesn’t deserve this it’s me.” Azriel whispered.

“Don’t,” Cassian warned.

Rhys continued softly. “When they believe that, they inadvertently shield themselves from feeling anything… including a bond even if it does exist. A defense mechanism of sorts.”

The body protecting itself from heartbreak so painful that it registered it as a physical ailment. Azriel was going to be sick.

He couldn’t believe the love of his life felt that way. He wondered for how long she’d lived with such a belief, how long she’d been giving him her love while accepting none of his. He wanted to tear down the mountains around Velaris, move them, raise them, turn them to dust, anything he could manage to get her to believe him when he told her he loved her.

He barely felt he deserved her at all. It made him queasy with devotion and grief that she loved him enough to ever think she was the undeserving one.

Azriel was so far past worrying that she did not feel the mating bond anymore. All he cared about was making sure she knew she was loved by him in a way that brought him to his knees.

Her second favorite part of the year after Winter Solstice: Starfall.

Elaine spent most of the day in the kitchen with Nuala and Cerridwen. Mor, Feyre, Nesta sat on her bed, lounging on the expansive mattress before it was time to get ready for the party.

While everyone else had their dresses picked out, she was still between options.

“Okay, option one.” She stepped out from behind the dressing screen, twirling dramatically in a golden trumpet dress that shimmered like woven sunlight.

Mor howled and Nesta smirked in satisfaction.

She turned to look into the mirror and study her body. She felt her heart palpitate as her mind immediately dared to wonder what Azriel would think. Would he like it? She shook my head quickly to clear the thoughts. It didn’t matter what he thought anyway.

Feyre sat back, tilting her head with a look in her eyes she couldn’t quite place. “It’s not bad. I caught a glimpse of the other gown earlier…” The ends of her mouth curled upwards.

The second dress was her personal favorite too. A silk, dark navy sheath that hung from her curves elegantly. It shimmered of silver and lavender under the light like the stars had been gathered from the sky and threaded into the material, one by one.

“Yes.” All three chanted at the same time as soon as she walked out again, clad in the dress that looked like it had been made only for her. There was no room for theatrics as her best friends gazed approvingly.

She did not need to look in the mirror to know this is the dress she wanted to wear. After all, she loved the color blue.

The rest of the girls got ready before she did. She went back and forth on hairstyles and makeup multiple times. Nuala and Cerridwen were more than patient, as were her friends who all waited downstairs for her before they’d leave for the House of Wind together.

“This is as good as it will get, I suppose,” She looked in the mirror one final time before descending the stairs that led to the living room below.

As soon as she neared the middle of the stairs, a shadow slipped around her ankle and up her bare arm, sending goosebumps in its wake. It slipped back down her arms gently, like a lover’s admiring touch, and down the stairs again.

Azriel was the first to turn. His senses were always tuned to her without his knowledge or deliberate effort. Her presence was like a beacon in his darkness. A lighthouse to his boat on treacherous waters. He could sense her in a crowded room in a heartbeat just by the way his heart would pound and his skin would warm.

Their eyes locked and he felt a pull in his chest. Almost with a start, he realized it wasn’t even the mating bond, though it also hummed within him. Even despite the mating bond, tender yearning filled his chest at the sight of her standing at the bottom of the stairs now. Pure love. The Cauldron blessed him this one time, perhaps the only time it ever would, giving him the mate it did. Yet he knew, especially in that moment as he drank in the sight of her glowing skin, shy smile, and deep eyes, he would love her even if they were not bound together in this way. He knew he’d choose her over and over and over again. He’d give anything to have her look at him the way she was right now, forever.

Still, Azriel’s heart wrenched as he recalled why she couldn’t feel the mating bond– this thing that crooned and moaned, twisted and sung, wrenched and wrested to be felt by the only other person in the world who it belonged to, not understanding why it hit a wall everytime it tried to reach out to its other half. His other half.

Something like pride came over Azriel as he noticed everyone else stop and stare. Their friends welcomed her with hugs and kisses and compliments and he watched her be loved and by all of their friends. He wanted to say something as their eyes met again. What would he say first? Azriel had a waterfall of words teetering at the tip of his tongue, flowing straight from the pits of his heart, but supposed telling her she was beautiful was a good start.

But before he could say anything, Mor gathered her and Elaine into her arms before winnowing them to the House. Feyre, Nesta, and Amren followed them a second later.

Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Don’t waste another day, brother.”

With Varian uncomfortably nestled in Cassian arms, they were off to the House too.

The celebration was grand as usual. Food and drink flowed from every corner of the room and everyone danced without a second to rest.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She danced with her friends for the longest time; Mor swirled her around the room and Nesta challenged her to keep up.

He stayed within the chattering crowd that boxed in the dance floor, sipping mulled wine and adjusting a fine thread on his jacket every now and again.

She excused herself from Nesta’s ceaseless dancing for some air. Her face was flushed, body warm, but she was happy. Once she reached the doors to the balcony and closed them behind her, she reveled in the immediate silence that followed.

The night air was cool on her flushed skin, the wind a caressing and most welcome touch.

A few minutes later, she heard the balcony door open behind her. Of course she didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. It was the only person that would follow her anywhere, no questions asked.

“Are you quite parched, yet?”

She turned around to find Azriel standing there, tall, broad, and beautiful, with two glasses of mulled wine.

“Quite.” She affirmed with a smile. He walked toward her until they were elbow to elbow, as close as he dared, before handing her the glass. She proposed they toasted to the spirits, who would begin their migration soon, for a safe journey. He obliged.

They sipped their wine in a comfortable silence. Any minute now the show would begin and everyone would move to the main balcony to watch and continue their dancing. This smaller balcony was perfect for just the two of them.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Azriel said as he did not bother to observe the first few stars that crossed the sky in glittery streaks of silver and gold. Next to her, everything else paled in comparison.

Her heart trembled at the compliment. It wasn’t the first compliment he’d given her, far from it, but coming from him they always meant so much.

With the wine in her system, accompanied with whatever was in Cassian’s flask when it was offered to her an hour ago, she said. “I wore this dress for you.”

The choice of color was not lost on him. The next few stars that soared across the sky caused his inky blue siphons to glisten in their glittery light. A perfect match to her silk.

“It suits you.” Azriel hated that his heart was hammering like this. He felt the love in his chest hum like a magnet, the bond snap like a rubber band against his lungs, stealing their air.

She didn’t say anything, only turned to look at him and he did not back away from her eye contact. Only returned it with such intensity that they now spoke with their eyes, a conversation that could never be expressed with mere words, an exchange between soulmates that remained only between them, not even the sky and stars privy to those thoughts.

Before his mind could refuse or reason with him, he closed the gap between the two of them, taking her elbow in his large hands. She allowed him to guide her to his strong body, eager to follow his lead.

His hands dropped to her waist, a respectable distance above her hips, though she would be pleased if he dared to go lower.

“I think about you all the time.” He spoke softly as he drew her as close as she could get. Their bodies were touching, and she was sure he could feel her heart hammering like a bird trying to take flight in a locked cage.

“You don’t,” She whispered as the stars began to rain across the sky in glimmering streams of light. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to stop before she made a fool of herself. But her body forced her to stay put, to soak in his warmth, the feeling of him against her, to allow herself to indulge in this.

“I do.” His voice was strong, tone resolute. He held her gaze. “I would never lie. Not to you. You are the one thing in my life I would spend the rest of my immortality living for. You’ve captivated me since the moment I met you and if it takes the rest of my life to prove it, I would gladly call it my life’s work. I can’t keep this from you any longer. If that makes me selfish…”

She reached her hand out to cup his jaw. He leaned into it immediately. Her touch was soft against his face and he thought about how nice it would be to stay like this forever.

Starfall was in full effect. Music and laughter from the other balcony was but a distant, muffled, chorus to him and he watched the shine of the raining stars reflect off of her eyes and skin. Like a work of art, he observed. My mate, my mate, my mate, his insides thrummed.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He understood the look in her eyes, the silent permission, the mutual yearning. In an act of mercy, blessing, and loss of control, he slanted his lips over hers, dropping his hands lower on her waist, shifting one to her lower back to support how flush to his body he held her.

She wrapped his arms around his neck, damning the voices in her head telling her none of this was real, that he’d regret it and take it all back in the morning. Deep down she knew even if other men would, Azriel would never. She gave into him, leaned into him, let him in everywhere he demanded it.

She didn’t think about how long she spent in his arms, connected to him like this. Her breath hitched as he felt her squeeze her waist and use the hand that was at the small of her back to travel upward caressingly, taking his time to feel her skin, the dips and planes of her body through the silk, to rest at the back of her neck.

Azriel was so wholly in love he didn’t even have to think about his next move or any kind of thought. Being with her was natural, like second nature.

She pulled away just long enough to breathe, caressing his swollen bottom lip with her thumb as she moved to hold his jaw. He smiled drunkenly at her, watching as she blushed and indulged herself in the feel of his face.

As the stars rained over Velaris in glittering dashes across the perfect canvas of the night sky, she stood with Azriel, holding him as he held her, suddenly keenly aware of what it felt like to be loved by him.

Azriel’s eyes softened in realization, relief, as he felt the hum of the bond break through his chest for the first time in decades. It extended outward freely, like a bird let loose, soaring like the stars in the sky to meet its other half.

She gasped softly as she felt a snap in her chest. A snap that realigned worlds, parted clouds, mended something broken, that marked a shift in time.

She understood.

“Az…” she whispered, almost wanting to not believe it.

He nodded, letting her feel his touch as she worked through the new emotions.

“How long have you known?” She brought her arms down from his neck to hold his hands. His bigger palms enveloped hers easily, warm and strong. Sure.

“Decades.” He shook his head slightly as if it was common sense he’d been in love with her for so long, refusing to break eye contact with her.

“And all this time… you waited? You never– I never thought…”

“I can’t think of anything else I’d want to spend my entire life loving.” He swept a lock of her hair behind her ear to see her better. To remind himself this wasn’t a dream, not this time.

She allowed Azriel to pull her in again, savoring the way his lips tasted, how soft they felt, the way he held her like she’d vanish if he even lifted a finger. It was a grasp that made her want for nothing anymore. Everything she wanted was right here.

“It seems,” she breathed, slightly out of breath after they pulled away again. “I’ve kept you waiting for quite some time.”

You still had a fair few things to do but for now, you were taking a break. Natasha was fixing up some food and you saw your darling boyfriend on the couch and decided to pay him a visit.

“Almost done?”

“Not yet, still have to sort through all the papers in the office. Then Tony bribed us to clean his lab.” You sigh, tired, though you were, you found fun in cleaning with Natasha. You talked about anything, everything and everyone. Plus, you had a pocket full of little knick knacks you found whilst cleaning… it’s like a reward.

“And you said yes?” Steve playfully glares at you.

“He said he’ll cover our food delivery for the next month.” You defend yourself. Steve would never understand because he berated you every time you got takeout, saying it was ‘junk’. You’d rather junk than his plain oatmeal… just saying.

“Oh, and I’m picking the movie tonight.” Natasha adds.

Sam and Bucky groan next to Steve as they play some video game on the TV.

“It better be good, Romanoff.” Sam warns. “No cheesy romance.”

“Tangled isn’t cheesy romance!”

“No kids movies!”

You and Steve just laugh at the two as they bicker back and forth. Fights often transpired whenever the movie for movie night needed to be picked.

Blocking them out, you turn to Steve, “Would you like to sit next to me tonight at movie night?” It was a silly question, you knew that. Of course he was going to sit next to you. But you liked asking him because it makes you feel like you’re still those two secretly crushing agents who could never buck up the courage to ask each other out and thus drove the entire compound insane.

“Hmmm.” Steve pretend thinks. As if he would ever not.

“Hey!” You softly slap his chest.

He breaks and smiles, pressing multiple, apologetic kisses to your lips, “Of course I would like to.”

-

True to his word, he had sat next to you at movie night… in your usual spot, middle row, to the far right. That way you could still talk to everyone, but also get a little cozy at the same time without being berated.

Natasha had in fact picked a- in the words of Sam Wilson ‘cheesy, romantic kids movie’. Beauty and the Beast. To her defence, it was live action so that it wasn’t exactly for kids and also Sam ‘never specified that it couldn’t be Disney.’

But, since nearly every other agent had sided with Sam and Bucky on this one, she changed it. She still got to pick the movie, but under strict conditions. No cheesy, romantic, kids, Disney movies.

So she went with Lord of the Rings.

Safe to say, everyone was happy with that one.

You and Steve never really cared much about what movie was playing. It was time spent together and that’s all you could ever really ask for with Steve. What, with all his missions and debriefs and meetings, it was rare for you to get a full days worth of Steve. And even when you did have time with him, it was often interrupted.

Movie night was a night for all avengers to just leave all their work outside the door and enjoy the 2 hours of freedom in Tony’s cinema.

As you go to grab some popcorn from Steve’s lap, you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head. You look up at him with a teasing smile, “What’re you ogling at? You’re missing the movie.” He just shrugs and seemingly holds you closer to him. You just sigh in fake annoyed and crane your neck to press an innocent, but sweet kiss to his lips, “Happy?”

“Mhmm.” He just hums.

A piece of popcorn hits the side of Steve’s head, making you both look in the direction of where it came from, a disgruntled Sam the only possible perp, “Get a room.”

-

Steve turned his head as you wiggled around under the blankets. Sitting slightly propped up against the headboard from when he woke up a few minutes ago at… 5:06 in the morning.

You groaned, stretching your limbs a little as you turned to grab at his body but realised he wasn’t in a position to properly snuggle against.

You blinked your eyes open a little and looked up at him all wide awake and ready to start the day and whined loudly.

“Why do you always wake up so early?” You rubbed at your eyes.

He moves a stray hair from your face, smiling down at your softly, “Body clock, I can’t help it.”

“Well, at least cuddle me.” You just huffed in response and propped yourself against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

Before he could say anything else, he heard light snores and felt your body grow heavy against his own. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so hard.

Moving slowly so as to not wake you, he grabbed his notebook from his bedside table and flicked to a blank page, beginning his newest drawing of your sleeping form.

-

“Hold on, lemme find it.” Natasha balances the phone between her ear and her shoulder, flicking through her computer to find the right document, “Okay, do you just want me to them all out?”

You and Natasha had devised a list of things needed for Steve’s birthday party. It was a long list and you planned on getting through at least half of them today. Only problem was, the list was on Natasha’s computer, lost in the 7 page word document that detailed every part of Steve’s birthday.

He was turning 101, it was a big deal, okay?

“Yes! Please. Let me just get a pen and paper.” You frantically look around the room, grabbing the first piece of writing material you laid your eyes on and that just so happened to be Steve’s notebook. As you flip through the pages to get to the back of the book, you stop in your tracks, flicking through to the previous pages and blinking at the page. A drawing… of you. A bloody good one too. Enthralled, you turned the page and found more, some weren’t finished, some were only tiny sketches with singular features of yours that he must’ve focused on. But nonetheless, they were beautiful. You smiled at them briefly before Natasha broke you out of your thoughts, “Sorry, whenever you’re ready.”

As soon as the call had ended, you continued to flick through the pages. You ignored everything that wasn’t a sketch of you, valuing Steve’s privacy. But you were just so amazed at the drawings you couldn’t help but admire each one.

You knew he loved to draw and he was damn good at it too. Whenever you received cards from him, they’d always have a very little, but very detailed doodle and you loved them. Or, the one-off time that he would be working and got bored, you would watch as he drew cute little scribbles on the paper in front of him.

You knew he carried the book around at all times, but you never knew that this was what he was filling it with. You.

Shutting the book, you ventured off to find him.

It was around 11am, and since he wasn’t on a mission and there weren’t any schedules meetings on his calendar, he was most likely just in his office.

Skipping along, almost jogging, you made it up to his office. You didn’t bother knocking and instead just frolicked towards him.

“Hey-“ He smiles up at you, but is cut off as you sit on his lap, wrap your arms around his neck and give him a chaste, but very loving kiss. You’re out of breath by the time you pull away, but you’re smiling widely while he just looks mildly confused and flustered, “What was that for?“

Remembering the book in hand, you bring it around and open up to the page your finger had kept bookmarked.

You showed Steve and he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I promise I wasn’t snooping, I needed to write something down and it was the first thing I saw.” You quickly explained. You turned the pages to show him, despite the fact that it was literally his book and he drew them, “They’re beautiful.”

He blushed a little at the compliment and God! You just wanted to kiss every inch of his face.

Since then, you had bought him all the art supplies in the world in the lead up to his birthday. Plus, and this is the gift you’re most proud of, you convinced Tony to let him have an art studio inside the compound.

It wasn’t much, a plain room with easels and palettes, canvases, paper. It wasn’t much but, it’s what he deserved.

You didn’t even mind how much time he would spend in there either. As long as he was drawing you, of course.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

Wooden swords clacked together as Cassian threw himself at Azriel. Azriel anticipated the attack and dodged to the side. His wings beat up, trying to lift himself up into the air to give him an advantage in the fight, but they were still a bit too weak to hold him up for a sustained amount of time. Cass laughed and darted forward, managing to slice the tip of his fake sword against Azriel’s chest. The young Illyrian groaned, tossing his sword to the ground. 

“Ah, don’t sweat it, Az,” Cassian laughed. “Some of us are just better at this kind of stuff.”

Azriel growled and lunged at Cass, but the other boy just laughed and wrestled back, dirt flying up as they tousled. The boy managed to get a headlock on Cassian and his shadows flew around in agitation and excitement.

Before either of them could tap out – though that happened few and far between, mostly done only because Rhys’ mom caught them – your young voice cleared your throat. “Hey- hey. Could I play with you guys?” The two boys looked up from their place on the ground to see you watching them, hands clasped behind your back as you smiled shyly at them.

“Uh, who are you?” Cassian asked, tugging at Azriel’s arm that was still around his throat. Azriel let his friend go quickly and Cass fell to the ground, cackling even harder.

Shadows zipped toward you, the new girl, twirling around your ankles and dancing between your fingers and wings. You let out a short yelp, though it quickly turned into a laugh, the most musical sound Azriel had ever heard. “Um, I’m Y/n,” you said. “I finished my chores already, so my mom let me leave the house. We live just a bit away.” You were wearing a plain, boxy dress with a dirty apron tied around the front.

Cassian shoved Azriel away and waved. “I’m Cass. This is my brother Azriel. And Rhys is somewhere around here.” He glanced around, searching for the other boy. “We were just practicing our sword fighting,” he informed you, chattering away. “You know, we’re gonna become the best Illyrian warriors one day,” he boasted.

“Just like every other boy, huh?” you grinned, fidgeting a bit. You glanced at Azriel, cheeks lifting up into a hesitant smile.

Az’s eyes widened and his shadows bolted from you back to him, though a couple changed course midway through and zoomed back to you, as if they were too excited not to leave you, looping around the waist of your dress. “Hi,” he greeted simply.

“So…” you hesitated. “Can I play?”

Childhood friendships start simply because someone is in the right place at the right time. The three brothers didn’t see you everyday, but you did become an important part in their lives – especially Azriel’s. He was still adjusting to living with Rhysand and Cassian. The three boys had just begun to form their bond and didn’t think of themselves as brothers yet. After Rhys’ mother had basically adopted Azriel because of her close friendship with his mother, he had awkwardly found his place in the war camp. The transition was hard and he found himself desperate for some sort of inclusion that wasn’t based on pain and hurting others.

He found that in you.

Whenever you were done with your chores (and if your father wasn't around), you would practically stumble over your feet to get to Azriel. He had a habit of waiting for you just past the tree line, engrossed in the shadows. When you couldn’t find him at first, he would appear, which earned him a shriek and then laughter that made you double over. Azriel found himself smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Wasn't it amazing that he was the one who could make you laugh like that?

Azriel grew attached so quickly that it made his head spin. It happened so fast he questioned what his feelings really were. His shadows seemed especially enamoured, clinging onto you with every step. Azriel was having a hard enough time learning to control them, but with you around, it got even more difficult. One shadow had developed such an attachment that you began to see it swirling around you while you did your chores.

The only times you couldn’t spend time with Azriel is when your father was home. He was usually training the recruits, but it was like he was on a war-path himself when his daughter was near. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked frantically one day when you came to him with a busted lip and red eyes from crying. “What happened? Y/n,” he practically begged, reaching out for you. His shadows were already anxiously spinning around you and when Azriel stepped in, his shadows transported both of you to his room. 

“Um, I wasn’t able to finish dinner before my dad came home,” you whispered out, lips pressing together and chin wobbling. “He got mad. It’s- it’s not that bad, but- but I couldn’t stop crying.”

Azriel couldn’t comprehend someone hurting you. He had been on the receiving end of much torment himself, and he had shown you the burn scars to prove it, but you were nothing like him. You were kind and sweet and his friend and he couldn’t imagine anyone raising a hand towards you. “Here, let me try to—” Azriel had watched Rhys’ mom enough times to know what salves and ointments to use. He grabbed a little tin and unscrewed the cap. “May I?” Azriel’s voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t laugh or tease him. You only nodded.

He dipped his fingers into the cream and then set it down. With his free hand, he reached up to cup your face. “Here.” You weren’t sure if he even knew he was whispering to you, but you couldn’t look away from the way his brows furrowed in concentration. His lips were pressed tight together and his eyes held a grave look in them, as if this was worse than all the things he had already seen in his young life.

Azriel’s fingers brushed over your bottom lip carefully, even tenderly. You had never experienced such serenity in touch before. Your eyes began welling up with tears again and Azriel jerked his hand away, which made you want to cry even more. 

The Shadowsinger could feel your breath on his cheeks and his lashes fluttered along with his heart. “Hold on, I swear I’m almost done,” he said, brushing back over the cut on your lip. “It should look good as new in a couple of hours.”

“I don’t want him to clip my wings,” you suddenly said, sucking in a breath. “Azriel, I don’t want to lose my wings.”

He knew instantly what you were talking about. You were nearing that age when you would begin bleeding and per custom, your wings would be taken from you. You would be sold to the highest bidder, forced to be a wife and a mother. Azriel’s shadows crawled into your lap, protecting you solemnly. “I will protect you,” Azriel suddenly vowed, voice heavy with conviction. “I promise.”

He wasn’t able to protect you. He woke one morning, not too long after his promise, to a sharp pain along his shoulder blades. He felt the pain shoot to his stomach, and it felt as if his guts were being rearranged. He let out a strangled sound, but forced himself out of bed.

Cassian and Rhysand were the only reason Azriel didn’t let himself get killed. They quickly followed him after Azriel rushed out the door, wings already unfurling. That led to another grunt of agony. The three of them were quick to fly to the main camp where the sounds of screams met them before they even touched down.

Right in the middle of the camp, there you were. On your hands and knees, it was a pathetic sight. Your beige dress had been cut down the back and you were trying to hold it up to your front. You were gasping for breath in between sobs and when you looked up into the faces of the men surrounding you, there was no comfort or mercy. In fact, there was glee. That morning, you had woken up with blood staining your thighs and it didn’t take your father long to sniff it out. As he stood above you now, a knife in his hand, there was only disgust smeared over his face, as if it was your fault you were a girl and therefore the bane of his existence. 

Azriel pushed through the men, shoving them aside. When they retaliated, Rhys and Cassian shoved them right back. “Y/n!” Before he could wrap you in his arms, a much stronger arm shot out and held him back. Your father. 

“Get back, boy.” It was a threat, and not one thinly veiled. “This is a family matter.”

“You can’t hurt her!” Azriel shouted back. He struggled against your father’s arms, but was thrown back roughly against the dirt. He landed awkwardly on his wings and a twinge of pain shot down his arm. 

Your father advanced towards you and Az struggled back up, lunging towards him. His shadows raced towards you, getting stepped on by the footfalls of your father. “She could die!” Another male wrapped his arms around the kicking, screaming Azriel and yanked him back. 

You were still on the ground and it was then that Azriel saw the reason why you didn’t just stand and fly away: two deep slashes of blood stained your stomach. Was your father trying to cut the womanhood from you? 

Azriel might as well have had his own stomach carved out. He couldn’t lose you. His eyes tracked the blood as it ran down from where you held your stomach, dripping through your fingers and then onto the ground. The grass was stained red, seeping into the dirt. His gaze snapped up to yours as you whispered his name. “Don’t leave me,” you begged. Your voice was so unlike your own, so hoarse and so desperate. He barely got even a year with you.

“I’m right here, I’m right here,” he repeated over and over as your father stalked towards you. Two brutal swipes slashed through the air, then cut through the tendons of your wings. His words turned into screams as your voice did too. Wailing, wings beating against the person holding him back, Azriel threw his weight around. This was worse than when his hands were burned. How was this worse than when his own skin was the one being harmed? Even at such a young age, he found himself bargaining with The Mother, wanting to give Her ten more years of his own agony if you were spared. He just wanted you alive. 

“I’m here! I’m here!” he screamed out, forcing his eyes open so that you weren’t alone in these last seconds. He blinked the tears from his eyes, forcing them to streak down his cheeks, but at least you would be able to hold onto the sight of his eyes one last time. At least you would see the comfort of someone who loved you one last time. He didn’t want you to die scared.

Moments later, as your body slumped to the ground and your father seemed more disgusted by the fact that you weren’t strong enough to withstand his torture, Azriel let out a agonising scream. Even the winds stilled as his knees hit the ground. Shadows covered your body, searching desperately for a pulse. None was found. 

The holds on Rhys and Cassian were released and they were the ones to tackle Azriel to the ground as he stood again, determined to kill your father. Of course, they felt his pain. You were their friend as well as his. But they couldn’t let him get into any more trouble. Rhys’ father would deal with it when he came back. When he looked back on that day, decades later, Azriel realised that’s when he began to think of Rhys and Cass as his brothers.

Days later, when Azriel was still in bed with his eyes dried out and his shadows still out by your fresh grave, he vowed to become stronger than your father so no one could ever push him around again. So he would never have to see another friend die. You were more than a friend, he knew, but now he would never even have the chance to see you smile again.

One thing he was truly terrified of was forgetting you. He closed his eyes, trying to engrain within him the colour of your eyes, the curve of your smile, the way it felt when you touched him. He had to memorise it, otherwise it would all be in vain.

Something died within Azriel that day. His childhood, which he had gotten back in the form of you, had officially ended. The little times he smiled now, a light had been lost. His shoulders were always slumped and his wings were folded tightly against his back. Something that tethered him to the world had disintegrated, leaving him there, floating and lifeless.

Like a bond, which was once there, had broken.

Fifty years later, Azriel was sitting at Rita’s. Rhysand was High Lord, Cassian was his General, and Azriel was his Spymaster. What a fitting position for him; slinking around the shadows that seemed to embrace him as one of their own.

The trio was still getting their footing and credibility as the Night Court, and Azriel was doing his best to contribute, but it wasn’t on the forefront of his mind right now. He had shrugged off two advances from females that night already. It didn’t feel right laying with them right now. It was the anniversary of your death. He could have lost himself in the drinking and the women, but instead, he found a little booth in a dark corner of Rita’s, ordered two pints of amber liquid, and set one across from him in tribute. He had all the intention in the world to drink until he couldn’t remember his own name and only remembered your face. Every year he would do this. Currently, he was already a couple drinks in, having stopped at other bars along the way.

His teeth were grinding against each other, jaw muscle working. It took him a very long time before he spoke quietly. “So… you’ve been gone for a while now. I know I’m supposed to forget you, but… that doesn’t seem to be working.” He let out a hoarse laugh. “I’ve tried. I know you would’ve wanted me too. And I– know that you were my friend for less than a year… but gods, it was what we both needed at that moment. I always get worried that I’m, like, romanticising you, but then Rhys shows me some memories and I realise I’m underselling you.”

He shook his head, not knowing what else to say. Slapping some marks down, he left both his half-empty pint and the full glass at the table.

Azriel’s feet scuffed across the stones. His siphons lit the way, but cast the scene in a melancholy blue. There was hardly anyone out now, the shops closed and even the last lights extinguished in the windows. He would stay at the Town House, but it never felt like home, even after all these years. He was still trying to find his home.

The echo of footsteps made him glance up, expecting only a drunk passerby.

His heart wrenched when he saw who it was. He was being pulled forward, but his feet stayed firm to the ground, like roots growing into the ground because even if this was a dream, the hope he felt could’ve lasted him lifetimes. He wanted to stay in this one moment, but he had to know.

Maybe he had been wrong all those years ago. Maybe his shadows were so frantic they missed a heartbeat. Maybe you… were somehow alive.

You turned a corner and Azriel found himself sprinting after you. Inebriated, it was hard to keep steady, but his wings flared out for stability. “Wait!”

He turned the corner after you, but you were gone. He must’ve looked like a madman, trying to pull on locked doors and peering down alleyways. One patron even peeked out their window to see what was causing all the fuss, but quickly slammed the panes shut and locked them when they saw the helpless frenzy Azriel was spinning himself into.

The waves of grief never felt so real. Even after all these years, it tugged him under with a vengeance. Why couldn’t it just let him be?

An hour later, Azriel was pacing in front of Rhysand’s desk. Rhys had never seen his brother so agitated before. Usually he stood in the corner, engrossed in the shadows that fed him secrets and whispers. The fact that his hands were flexing because of stress and his jaw was tight… it didn’t take Rhys prodding his mind to know Azriel had seen something life-changing.

“It was her,” the Shadowsinger stressed. “I swear my life on it, Rhys. She had the same eyes and the same hair. I- I mean, she was older, sure, but I could tell her wings had been clipped. And you know the way her father had singed the edges of her wings once? She- it looked exactly like that. It was Y/n. I know her.” I’ve seen her in my nightmares, day after day, hearing her screams for me. It won’t be soon that I forget her.

“You were drinking, Az,” Rhysand reminded him gently. “And it’s her anniversary. You were already thinking about her and your mind was muddled. I’m sorry, but I can’t… I don’t know,” he sighed. “Practically every female’s wings have been clipped and we don’t know how common singed wings are.”

“Look into my mind,” Azriel pleaded. “Look at my eyes, Rhysand. I’m not lying about this. I would never.”

Cassian piped up from the couch, “but we all saw her. We were all there. I mean, you didn’t come out of your room for weeks, Az. And don’t you think that if she was alive, she would’ve come looking for you already?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel stuttered. “Maybe she was getting her life together. Maybe she was healing. It’s only been fifty years. I swear–”

Rhys sighed and rubbed at his temples. He was having a hard enough time transitioning to High Lord, but now his own brother was adding this nonsense onto it. “Azriel, I want to believe you, I truly do. You know we both adored Y/n. But you said it yourself: she disappeared. You couldn’t find her. Go ahead and try to find her again, but until you do… I don’t know what to think.”

Cass’ head lolled over to look at Azriel. He, too, had been drinking that night and wasn’t in the best state of mind. Perhaps Cassian wasn’t the most perceptive or thoughtful, but Azriel’s expression was enough to tug on anyone’s heartstrings. The Shadowsinger looked nothing less than gaunt. In cycles of extreme sorrow, even the strongest Illyrian would feel hope slip from his fingers. “I’ll help you look,” the General found himself saying. He pushed himself to his feet, fist going to his mouth as he suppressed a burp. “I’ll help you,” he repeated.

Azriel let out a relieved chuckle, running a hand through his windswept hair. Someone was listening to him. Someone believed him. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you, Cass. I owe you.”

Cassian shook his head. “No. You don’t owe me anything for this.” Not for the possibility of Y/n’s life.

Azriel’s shadows loved this time of night. They owned the night. They twisted and pried secrets from everyone, running back to their master with their prize. All over this little enemy island, Azriel’s shadows wormed around, sneaking all the information the Spymaster needed. Azriel was now nearing two hundred and eighty years old and had honed his craft perfectly. 

In other news, it had been a hundred and twenty years since he had seen you last. 

Azriel was working a mission for Rhys, Truthteller strapped to his side and siphons glowing as he waited in a room above one of the town’s bars, awaiting the return of his shadowy little soldiers. There was a lord named Xavier who had made too many snide comments and was beginning to disobey the smallest orders, as if testing the waters and how far he could push the High Lord. Rhysand sent in Azriel to see what was truly happening. No questions asked, Azriel had departed.

A knock came on the door to his room and he stilled. No one was supposed to know he was here. He had checked into the pub but had slipped the manager a couple extra marks to keep him quiet. “Room service,” a voice chirped out happily.

Something itched in the back of his brain. As he subconsciously sifted through memories, he moved to open the door. 

When Az would look back on this memory, he would berate himself for not being more careful. He had let his guard down on a mission, which could’ve possibly compromised Rhys and the Inner Court. As Spymaster, he should have never opened that door. But as Azriel, he was glad he did.

His fingers wrapped around the knob and pulled open the door. And he came face to face with you.

Oh.

His chest broke open, ribs tearing apart to give room for his beating heart. His heart that was, and had always been, yours. A shadow reached up to pinch Azriel’s forearm, but even without the motion, he knew it couldn’t have been a dream. He had seen you in his dreams a dozen times over — dreams where he would catch you on the street that night, or dreams where he was able to save you from your father — so he knew this wasn’t a dream. You were much too detailed to be a dream.

He could see the different flecks of colour in your eyes, the strands of your hair, and the way your lips were slightly chapped. Your dress had wrinkles in it and your fingers were spread wide over the platter of food, balancing the weight.

Maybe there was a reason he chose this pub over the two others next to it. After all, he would always be drawn to you.

“Y/n,” he breathed, mouth agape and hazel eyes burning with intensity. “Oh my gods, I knew it. I knew you were alive.” He finally noticed the confusion in your expression and he paused, hands frozen in the air as he reached out to you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, still trying to keep that customer service facade on. “I’m so sorry, do I know you? Have we met?”

“Don’t you know who I am?” His voice cracked and he was transported back centuries when he was still growing into his warrior self, such an insecure boy.

You shook your head, feeling sorry for him. Clearly he thought you were an important part of his life. “No, I’m sorry. Could- can I help you look for them? I’m sure we could tell my manager and he could—”

Azriel mimicked your movement, shaking his head and cutting off your speech. “How old are you?” he asked, then instantly felt like a creep. He spluttered a bit and then told you after a breath, “you look exactly like someone I knew.” He explained softly, “and I’ve- I’ve seen you before— or, I mean, someone that looks exactly like she did. You look exactly like she did.” 

He was talking nonsense and your expression reflected that. You drew the platter of food closer to you, as if it could protect you against the crazy Illyrian male.

“My mate,” he decided it was easier to give a little white lie than to try to explain it all. No, you hadn’t been his mate a hundred and twenty years ago, but you might as well have been. Perhaps, if you hadn’t died, the bond would’ve snapped for the two of you. “My mate died… a long time ago.” Your face fell into sympathy. Before you could express your condolences, he continued, “but I’ve been seeing her. I don’t know what it is or what’s happening, but this is the second time that I’ve seen you- or, uh, someone who looks exactly like her. It- it can’t be a coincidence.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that although you truly were sorry for his loss, it must’ve just been his grief to make him see the face of his mate in the faces of others. But before you could reply with even your age (fifty-six, by the way), his brows drew together and his eyes flickered up, looking like he was concentrating on something.

Yep, you were very freaked out.

Meanwhile, Rhys was unknowingly interrupting possibly the most important moment of Azriel’s life. Mor found something out. Leave your post and report back here immediately. 

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Finally, he replied mentally, not now. He could almost feel the confusion and frustration coursing through Rhys.

Is there a reason you’re disobeying this? Azriel, we can’t have you stuck in enemy territory for longer than necessary. The longer you’re there, the longer someone could find you out and you could easily be compromised. We don’t know how dangerous Lord Xavier is right now, but anyone would be gleeful to capture you.

First off, Azriel snarled, I’m not getting captured. Second off, can’t this wait?

No. Rhys’ voice left no room for argument.

Azriel wanted to rip out Rhysand’s throat. “I’ll be back,” he vowed to you, pushing Rhys’ voice out of his head. Azriel gripped your hands and the platter of food tumbled out of your grasp. “I’ll be back for you. I promise. Then I’ll explain everything. Just wait for me, please.”

“Okay,” you stammered, still overwhelmed by everything. 

The Illyrian winnowed away, leaving you standing helpless and confused with food scattered around your feet.

“I have to go back,” Azriel growled. It had been a week since he had seen you at that pub and that was a week too long.

“You cannot, Azriel,” Rhysand argued, having gone over this a thousand times over. “What Mor found proves that Lord Xavier is just too dangerous. Correspondence to other unruly lords and nobles and potentially planning a rebellion! This is bigger than what you claimed to have seen. We need to gather and consolidate our allies and forces. If you go rushing back in there, just to search for a girl that looks like Y/n, you’re ruining everything.”

Azriel wanted to rip his hair out. “I don’t care!” he finally screamed. “It’s Y/n!”

“Get over her!” The High Lord slammed his fists against the wooden table. The contents of his desk rattled. “It has been over two hundred years. She is dead, Azriel. You need to stop grasping at straws.”

From where Cassian and Mor were standing in the corner, both tensed. That was not the thing to say to Azriel regarding the love of his life.

Speaking of the Spymaster, the muscle in his jaw was working overtime. His hands were clenched so tightly that he was sure to draw blood from his palms, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the pain in his heart. The veins in his forearms strained against his skin and his feet slid into a fighting stance.

Of all people, his brother was the one to dismiss him so casually. The betrayal hurt more than thinking of Y/n. 

Almost.

It was a close call whenever the brothers brawled, but somehow, Azriel always managed to come out on top. Perhaps this was what ran through Rhys’ mind as he shifted his weight back onto his heels in a small sign of submission and acquiesce. But he wasn’t about to back down. “I will chain you to a tree if I need to.”

“Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said. His voice was low and menacing. He gripped the hilt of Truthteller and his siphons glowed even brighter if possible. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

That’s how Azriel found himself chained to a tree.

Mor was trying desperately not to laugh at the sight and Cassian was muttering curses about his idiot brothers as he finished tying Azriel up. Rhysand stood in front of his spy with his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way, Az, but I can’t have you compromising this mission. If Lord Xavier gets out of hand, then who knows what will follow? We need to shut him down before it gets out of hand.”

Azriel could only glare at his brother. After no response, Rhys turned around, hands clasped behind his back, and began walking away.

He paused when he heard a groan.

Turning back around, Rhysand couldn’t believe what he saw. Neither could Cass or Mor. Azriel’s body was straining against the chains as he leaned forward. The metal cut into his flesh, but Azriel didn’t care one bit. A thick vein strained in his neck and sweat began to bead down his face as slowly, very slowly, the ground beneath his feet began to lift.

It was a feat of strength like no other. And all for the idea that you could be out there.

Azriel readjusted his footing, soil and grass breaking up and clumping by the balls of his feet. His head hung low, hair falling over his eyes. A pained grunt escaped his lips and the bark of the tree scraped against his leathers and forearms, scratching up the skin where tattoos ran underneath. The chains gripped against his biceps, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. But while the chains were perhaps immovable, the centuries old tree wasn’t.

It wasn’t a small tree that Rhys had tethered Azriel to. This tree had been growing for decades, spreading its roots deep into the soil. Rhysand gaped as that soil began to unearth itself, the roots being pulled out from their homes as Azriel tried to find his own home. He had to get back to you.

With a scream that rattled the birds nesting in the forest around them, the tree tore out of the dirt and Azriel braced it on his back. His chest heaved and he looked up at Rhysand, a wretched look on his face. His lips were pale and his hair drenched in sweat. “I’m going to my mate,” he growled out.

Azriel spread his wings out on either side of the tree and began beating them. The wind that picked up beneath them was enough to have Cassian stumbling back, shocked. Rhys, Cass, and Mor could only watch as Azriel flew away.

He must’ve looked like a madman. He had been able to shed his chains and the tree whilst flying, but that didn’t stop the deranged look in his eye. Siphons gleaming and shadows unfurling on the pub floor, Azriel stood like the grim reaper, scaring everyone out of the bar. His shadows extended and fanned out, racing through the hallways and rooms of the pub, searching for the one thing that drove them.

They couldn’t find it.

Azriel almost threw the manager against the bar, wanting to break every bone in the pathetic man’s body, but was stopped when the weight of reality crashed down on him, heavier than any tree he could have carried on his back.

You were gone. The manager hadn’t seen you since Azriel had left. The Shadowsinger could’ve upended the town searching for you, but something in him knew he wouldn’t find you. It wasn’t time yet. And if he ripped apart this quaint little island, it certainly wouldn’t help Rhys with Lord Xavier.

As he flew back to the Town House – he was too exhausted to winnow and needed time to clear his head – one thought replayed in his mind over and over again.

He had broken another promise to you.

This was the one. It had to be. This time, he was going to get it right. He wasn’t going to overexplain it to you and freak you out. He wasn’t going to chase you down; he was going to go slow, just as he had always intended. Just as he would have if you two had grown up normally.

Azriel found you next, a gruelling one hundred and thirty years later, in a human town south of The Wall. He had gone flying one day with no purpose in mind. When he returned to Velaris two weeks later, the Inner Circle had never seen him so content and blissful. 

You were in your late-twenties when Azriel found you. The Illyrian looked so out of place in the human world, but felt so at home with you. People still steered away from him when they saw him on the streets, for he had done his job well in maintaining the air of the deadly spy. The way his leathers strained against skin of tattoos and how his siphons flowed ominously didn’t match how he smiled for you.

No, you found his smile to be quite nice and solely reserved for you.

Azriel laid in bed with you one day, one wing wrapped around the two of you like a shield from the world. His other wing lay drooped to the ground, finally relaxed. He was wearing plain clothes and you liked the feeling of them against your cheek. He cradled you in his arms, finger gently tracing stars and circles on your arm. His finger dipped down to a small red cut you had gotten when your neighbour’s cat decided it suddenly didn't like you. “How long have you had this?” he asked, voice breaking the lovely silence in the room. 

“Hmm? Oh, a couple of days,” you murmured back lazily.

Azriel’s brows furrowed and he gazed down at you. You looked like you belonged in his arms. The way your cheek was pressed against his bicep and the curve of your nose and lips could fuel his heart for aeons. The sun glinted through the window and he decided to lean down and give you a soft kiss to your temple. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know what worries were twisting through his mind.

“I’m fine,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Az, I swear to you that I’m okay. It’s just a little scratch. Nothing to be worried about.”

But you didn’t know that Azriel had seen you bleed out hundreds of years ago while you screamed out for him. 

“I know,” he replied quietly. “I simply worry about you.”

“Not all of us can be big, bad Illyrians,” you teased, hand going up to rest on his chest, fingers tapping out a mindless beat.

Azriel only hummed, the sound low in his chest, and held you closer. His hand twined up into your hair, his palm cradling your head closer. He held you delicately, yet firmly, as if you were a precious piece of glass he could never afford to lose.

It had taken you a long time to trust the Spymaster’s advances, but his loyal presence and the loving look in his eyes eventually wore you down. You didn’t understand why an Illyrian warrior was interested in you, but he kept coming back, squashing your fears that one day he would fly away and never return. 

Your friends and family were quite suspicious of Azriel, but you found yourself growing to love him. He had his quirks, of course, such as leaving a shadow with you constantly that alerted him even if you stubbed your toe. You didn’t know if all Illyrians were this protective, but Azriel wouldn’t tell you why he hovered over you so much. He clearly had some trauma with past lovers, you figured, so you didn’t comment when he would press into your hands, urging you to run your hands through his hair.

Late at night, when Azriel was staying with you in your tiny one bedroom apartment that was above an alchemist store, he would trace featherlight touches over your features, afraid he would harm you if he held you the way he wanted. The hues of the night would break through the curtains of the windows, reminding him of home, but you now were his home. He spent less and less time at the Night Court because he knew that soon, you would be gone from him once more. Even if you lived your full, wonderful life and he was with you the entirety of it, you would still leave him so soon in his immortal life. 

So he decided to hold you the way he wanted to. When you slept, Azriel clung to you desperately, as if he could somehow physically hold the pieces of your broken world together.

He didn’t know if his mate could be a human, but you might as well be. He just wanted to be with you. It didn’t matter what you were doing; as long as he could be near you, it soothed the ache in his chest. Azriel tried to spend time with you without thinking of the impending end, but it was a struggle. 

Soon after a birthday of yours, Azriel asked you as he washed dishes, “Y/n, do you ever plan on marrying?”

You looked up from drying the dishes, and replied, “what do you mean? Like- like, to you?”

Azriel looked down at you, a sad smile on his lips. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I love you, darling, but I don’t… I don’t think it would be wise for me to marry you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, grinning down at the dishes. “You self-sacrificing idiot. I want to marry you. I love you, too.” He had expressed to you one night how he thought you were too good for him. He had said it in a teasing tone, but you knew that came from a deep insecurity.

However, he immediately shook his head. “No. No, my love, this is for entirely selfish reasons.” He set down the plate. “I— don’t think I can marry you because it would be too painful to see you age. I would forever be trying to find a way to have you by my side. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t be focused on- on your mortality while married to you. I wouldn’t be a good husband. I would be a horrid husband and that is something I certainly cannot do to you.” He was rambling a bit, yes, but he had gotten his point across.

You put down the rag you were using to dry dishes and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I love you,” is all you said. And it was all you needed to say. Your words held every promise from every lifetime and every lifetime yet to come.

That night, Azriel told you of the versions of you he had met in the past. You took it all in and listened quietly, tangled up in the sheets together. “I wonder what it was like to be Illyrian,” you commented afterwards.

Azriel looked down at you. “That’s all you have to say?” he asked, voice betraying disbelief. He had definitely gotten better expressing his emotions to you over the months and the thought made you smile.

“Well, yeah,” you replied. “It would be cool to fly. And like, live forever. And fight and whatnot.”

He couldn’t resist the chuckle that came out of his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaned down and kissed you. You made a muffled sound of surprise, but easily melted into him. He made you feel intoxicated. His lips swept gently against yours, knowing every move that left you breathless. His shadows, sensing the excitement and love, hurried to settle against your stomach and clavicle. 

Azriel kissed you with such passion and adoration, arms tucking you close to his chest to trap you in his hold. But you didn’t feel trapped. You felt safe. And you told him as such. 

“Good,” he whispered back. “That’s all I want for you.”

To the Shadowsinger, it felt like only a few months. You grew so old so fast and it pained Azriel. Gods, the guilt he felt ruined him. The Inner Circle could most definitely see it, and he wasn't even spending the majority of his time with them. He was spending every waking moment with you, trying to grasp onto something that was slipping through his fingers no matter how he tried to fight it. Mortality hit the hardest when he was staring it in the face, begging it not to take the one person he loved more than life itself.

Azriel didn't fear his own death. He had seen too many on the battlefield and ended too many personally to fear it. He had come to terms that death would embrace him one day and there was nothing he could do but welcome it.

But he did fear your death. He had already lived in worlds without you and it never got easier. To always know that there could’ve been one more day, one more second where he got to see you smile at him or say that you loved him… it brought him to his knees. He would dig his fingers into the earth and rip apart the continent with his bare hands. He would curse The Mother, but he wouldn’t turn his cheek at the religion because perhaps, maybe, She could still grant him some grace. Maybe if he prayed hard enough and long enough, then She would take pity on this broken starved man She had created.

That fateful night, he rocked you gently. You had never grown old in his eyes — only more beautiful. He didn’t care when your hair began to grey or when the wrinkles from your smile became permanent. He loved you still. So he rocked you just as his mother did when he was young, pouring all his love and sorrow into the embrace. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and rough like sandpaper. “When will you come back to me? Why can’t I just be with you? Does the Cauldron hate me that much? Do I not deserve you?”

You didn’t respond.

For the first couple of months he was looking for you everywhere, searching faces and sorting through the voices he heard in the marketplace. His skin got even more tan from how long he was spending outside, from dawn until dusk, going into every store and shop. His wings ached from flying to nearby villages and towns and even his shadows seemed exhausted.

Azriel then realised that you must have been reborn at some point, so he almost knocked on the door of a midwife, wanting to ask if she had just delivered any babes by the name of Y/n, but Rhysand talked some sense into him. “You’re sounding crazed,” he said firmly. “I was skeptical at first, I know, but now the most you can do is wait. Fate will bring her into your life again.”

Months turned into years which turned into decades. Azriel never forgot you. He didn’t let himself forget you. He wrote down all the memories he ever had of you and whenever he felt himself slipping, he would reread the entire thing over again.

It was a long ninety years.

But when the Dawn Court got a new emissary that was eighty years old, Azriel felt a tug in his chest. A certain tug that he hadn’t felt in ninety years.

The Dawn Court emissary greeted the Night Court pleasantly, unaware why their Spymaster was silently crying. Azriel couldn’t help it. After all these years, seeing you again was like the skies opened up to shine heaven down upon him. His shadows, of course, raced towards you, toppling over each other to try to be the first to touch you again. You let out a surprised laugh and Azriel nearly collapsed. He managed to stay on his feet even as the universe shifted, pulling his soul towards you as he had always known it was meant to.

You really were his mate.

The rest of the Night Court slowly left, fading away into the halls of the House of Wind (though Cassian didn’t exactly understand what was happening at first). As you looked up from his shadows, he knew you could feel it too. Azriel's breath hitched as he saw the eagerness in your eyes, the way the shadows seemed to dance around your feet and up your dress. It was like they were reaching for him, urging him closer. When you looked up at him with that small, inviting smile and nodded, he felt like his heart might explode. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, like it was attempting to beat out of its confines just to be closer to you, the one who made it beat. He stepped towards you, shadows seeming to touch you in a gentle caress.

Unbeknownst to him, though he could feel the tumultuous tidal wave of emotions crashing through you, you were being rushed back in time. The bond, which had been laying in hibernation for years, had finally come to life, allowing you to see glimpses of your past lives with Azriel.

Your fingers awkwardly tried to weave a flower crown which you had seen the older girls do. A couple metres away from you, Rhys and Cassian were practicing their swordfighting, something which seemed all too common these days. Meanwhile, Azriel laid next to you, on his side as he gazed up at you. Your wings were slumped in a relaxed position behind you, though you huffed as one of the flowers fell off. “It’s not working,” you complained to Az.

He chuckled and you threw him a glare. “It’s only your first try, Y/n,” he reminded you. His smile was bright, but soft, and he hadn’t lost all of that baby fat yet. “Give yourself some time.”

“Will you wear all my flower crowns, even if they’re awful?” you teased, arms extending as you plopped the makeshift crown down on his dark curls. His smile only seemed to grow.

“Of course.”

You waited in the hotel room, glancing around anxiously. Geez, you shouldn’t have believed that Illyrian. He could be coming back to kill you, for all you knew. Or kidnap you. Or worse. But you didn’t leave. A part of you hesitated. Hearing that his mate had died made you feel very sorry for the man. You couldn’t imagine having such a strong bond with someone only for it to be ripped away. You had heard that a mate was the closest anyone could ever come to absolute true acceptance and love and that a mate would be there for you, no matter what.

So perhaps you could stay in this room until he came back, just to try and give him some words of comfort. If you truly looked just like his mate, then perhaps you could help him get over his grief. 

You began to clean up the food you had spilled, but even after that, he hadn’t returned. After an even longer stretch of time, you decided that the man was simply playing a prank on you. You huffed in annoyance and stalked out of the room.

You were browsing the marketplace when someone tugged you into a nearby alley. You nearly screamed out, but a hand clapped around your mouth. It was then you felt soft shadows curl around your arms. You relaxed and Azriel let you go. You turned and immediately began chastising him, “Az! How rude of you! Do you know how scared I was?”

The Shadowsinger smirked, revealing his dimples that you very much liked. “And do you think I would ever let anything bad happen to you, darling?” His wings twitched out even at the idea.

“You’re such an ass!” you exclaimed as he took the basket of groceries from your arms and slipped some extra marks into the basket. You didn’t notice, still scolding him. “I mean, what were you thinking? Scaring a woman like that.” He shut you up with a deep kiss that left you gasping for breath. You couldn’t stay mad at him anymore.

“I just wanted to see you,” he murmured out, voice low. “Is that such a crime?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He took that as a sign to kiss you again. “I love you, darling.”

You simply sighed. “I love you, too.”

“I remember.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a thought. “I remember. You… we knew each other, didn’t we?”

Azriel had gotten closer to you as the memories had come flooding back. He couldn’t bear to be so far apart, especially after the centuries of waiting. “Yes. We did.” He might have been beginning to cry again, but he would deny that fact for aeons to come. “Cauldron, I can’t believe you remember,” he muttered, taking your face in his hands. His fingers found their way to your hair, like muscle memory. You got the feeling that this was not the first time he had held you like that. He leaned down, slowly, as if terrified that you would reject him. When you didn’t, he let his forehead rest against yours. “I’m sorry for ever leaving you,” he managed out. “I’m sorry I broke my promises.”

“Azriel, it should be me to apologise to you,” you corrected him, brows furrowing in the exact way he remembered. “To have you live through so much angst and sadness… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“There was nothing you could do.” His voice cracked like it had so many years ago. His eyes pressed closed and his tears dripped down to fall onto your skin. “But gods… I’m so sorry.”

You scoffed and shook your head, grinning. “You self-sacrificing idiot.”

This time, Azriel truly did fall to his knees.

For the first couple of decades; he was still wary. You could be taken away from him at any moment. When fitful decades passed and it had been longer than any other time he had had with you, he breathed a sigh of relief, but still was looking over his shoulder every other step. Would he ever get over the trauma? It cut deep like one of his scars that would never truly disappear. You were quick to notice the spike of anxiety through the bond (though even if the bond wasn't there, you would’ve still seen the nervous tick of his jaw), and took his face in your hands. “Hey,” you whispered to him. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Because you’ll just find me again.”

“And what’s that?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.” 

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles. 

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.” 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace. 

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat. 

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him. 

“Maybe we would.” 

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets. 

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.” 

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night. 

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused. 

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.” 

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that. 

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back. 

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked. 

He had to be in love with her. 

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things. 

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.” 

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words. 

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.” 

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms. 

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.” 

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.” 

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.” 

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears. 

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink. 

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard. 

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water? 

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk. 

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own. 

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?” 

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.” 

“Liar.” 

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?” 

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”  

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.” 

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.” 

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed. 

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.” 

~~

The following days were… strange to say the least. 

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot. 

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her. 

You were so, so right. 

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange. 

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one. 

Well, other than Elain. 

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway. 

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel. 

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence. 

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?” 

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.” 

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?” 

That was new. 

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago. 

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.” 

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.” 

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel. 

Something about it felt… wrong. 

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.” 

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.” 

“What does that—” 

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened… 

You shuddered at the thought. 

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris. 

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes. 

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack. 

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued. 

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!” 

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages. 

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.” 

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.” 

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?” 

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face. 

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.” 

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.” 

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain. 

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago. 

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out. 

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief. 

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in. 

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?” 

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?” 

“Oh. No. Not as bad.” 

“And how is everyone else?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever. 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others. 

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore. 

You wiped at your eyes for the dozenth time of the hour, snow clinging to your eyelashes and clouding your vision.

You and Azriel had been sent on a scouting mission, trudging through the snow for hours now. Your assigned target was a group of enchanted autumn court soldiers, but in the relentless weather you hadn’t even gotten a peak of the crazed men.

Stomping further forward, you tried to step into Azriel’s already sunken tracks, but it seemed that by the time you found your footing, the snow had already filled the once dug-out footprints.

“You good?” sounded from in front of you, the only sound to be heard over the roaring wind and snowfall. Azriel was stopped, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You almost recoiled at how unfazed he seemed, suddenly noticing the chattering of your teeth and numbness of your toes tenfold at his unbothered state.

“Just cold. Nothing serious” you waved off, stubbornly trudging forward another step. You suppressed the violent shivers your body had started half an hour ago, refusing to let the SpyMaster see just how miserable you were.

As you got closer to him, you stretched your foot out for a final step. When it made contact with the ground, instead of the fluffy crunch of snow, a shattering sound met your ears. Suddenly, your foot was no longer supported, sending your leg into a substance so cold it burned your skin at impact.

With nothing to grab onto, your body free fell instantly into the freezing water below the surface. Without so much of an “uh o-”, the world was disappearing from in front of you, your eyes being met with nothing but darkness.

At the shrill of the freezing temperature, the only thing your body could do was tense. You didn’t kick, didn’t scream, didn’t fight, it’s like every muscle went into immediate shutdown and numbness. You vaguely felt the feeling of something under your arms before you were surged back up to the land of the breathing.

Something was touching your face. At the whirlwind of motion you just went through, your muddled and frozen brain was struggling to keep up with everything going on. You felt the plushness of snow beneath your back, the wind biting at your cold and wet leathers. “Hey. (Y/n). Please, look at me.” echoed above you. After blinking the frost out of your eyes, you came into focus of a stressed Azriel staring down at you.

His hands were gently brushing up and down your arms as your body involuntarily convulsed from the cold. “Come on. We need to get you warmed up. Just focus on me, angel.” muttered from his lips, his amber gaze still taking in your figure from head to toe, assessing for injuries.

With Azriel’s help, you stiffly rose to your feet after another 30 seconds of examination. Once he deemed you okay to walk, he assisted you into a standing position before wrapping your arm around his neck and trekking forward. “There’s an inn close by we can stay in for the night. It’s just a few miles ahead.” He reassured into your ear, free hand still rubbing up and down your arm for warmth.

After what felt like hours of hobbling, twinkling lights and the smoke from a fireplace appeared in the distance. At the sight, you unwillingly let out a sigh, but with the current situation you realized it came out as more of a whimper. “I know. I know. We’re almost there I promise.” Azriel all but whispered, his free arm coming down to scoop up your legs, taking your body fully into his embrace.

“I’m okay, Az. I can walk” you whispered, teeth chattering so much it sounded like more of a stutter. “You just fell into a frozen lake in the dead of winter. I’m allowed to mother hen for a moment.” he rebuttled, sharp eyes catching yours in a no-nonsense gaze. You couldn’t help the small smile pulling on your lips, Azriel’s eyes taking it in until his lip was lifting slightly as well, pulling out that crease in his cheek you adored.

“Your lips are blue.” he stated, almost to himself as his eyes landed back on your mouth. At the admission, it seemed as if something clicked in him, his head turning and body surging forward once again. With nothing else to do, you lowered your head onto his shoulder and allowed your eyes to close for the remainder of the trip.

When shuffling and the muffled sound of a door closing filled your ears, you slowly raised your head to take in your surroundings. You were still in Azriel’s arms, stood in the middle of a small room. The room was dull, old wooden floors and ancient wallpaper adorning every surface. There was a small dresser, an armoire, a nightstand with a small lamp adorning it, and a very uncomfortable looking bed pushed into the corner.

While it wasn’t extremely inviting, you felt the weight of the world ease off of your shoulders when your eyes caught the hearth of a fireplace across from the bed. Gently rubbing your eyes, you felt Azriel release your legs and set you gently on the floor, his arms staying wrapped around you for assurance before releasing you entirely.

“Let me get the fire started so we can get you warmed up.” he muttered, already set in his task. Your cold fingers started working nimbly at the buttons of your leathers, fighting with each one much harder than you would have if your fingers were behaving properly. You cursed yourself as you failed at the second button, frustrated tears forming in your eyes as your fingers slipped off of the cool metal for the third time.

Right as you went to try again, a warm, textured hand gently laid over yours. “Let me” came from his lips in a whisper, his hand gently pulling yours away from the cursed contraption before he got to work. He slowly undid each button, looking up into your eyes as he worked.

“Would you like me to run you a bath before you change into dry clothes?” he asked, eyes bouncing from your own back down to the buttons repeatedly. You nodded your head eagerly, almost moaning at the thought of sitting in water warmer than -12°.

Once you were freed from the confines of your frozen tunic, Azriel helped you slip off your pants, leaving you in an undershirt and pants that were also frozen. After laying your leathers to dry on the dresser, he made his way to the bathroom.

Instead of feeling useless, you decided to tend to the fire while Azriel was preoccupied. Crouching in front of the hearth, you used the metal poker to stab and adjust the logs to your liking, ignoring the shooting pain in your legs at the squat you were maintaining.

After you were satisfied with the logs, you dropped the poker and wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your head atop them and soaking in the warmth from the flames. After a few seconds of silence, you heard Azriel’s footsteps approaching from behind.

His hand came down to rest on your back, his own legs bringing him into a squat beside you. “The bath is ready. I laid out some clothes for you on the sink.”. You slowly pried your eyes open, taking in his appearance slowly from underneath your lashes. His hand began absentmindedly rubbing up and down on your back soothingly, his soft gaze maintaining your stare.

“Aren’t you cold too?” you muttered, words muffled by your arm pressing into your lips. Azriel’s fingers came up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear as a soft smile grazed his features once again. “I’ll be okay.” he whispered, grabbing your hands and pulling you to stand once more. “Yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be right here.” passing his lips as he walked you to the bathroom door.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, you felt a warm blush spread over your cheeks. While you undressed, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to Azriel and his sudden protectiveness of you.

You had been friends with the shadowsinger for years, close enough to share sleepless nights together and find comfort in each other’s presence. While it was mainly a platonic relationship, you sometimes felt a twinge in your heart or an increase in your pulse when he would cuddle up to you. It wasn’t rare for him to seek you out after a long mission and rest in the comfort of your embrace. That’s what friends were for though, right?

As your final piece of wet clothing thudded onto the floor, you dipped your foot into the warm water with a sigh. Azriel had somehow found a bottle of bath oils and dumped them in with the running water, leaving a calming earthy scent wafting throughout the room. As you lowered yourself in, you couldn’t help but let out a groan at the warmth encasing you.

You stayed until the water got lukewarm, scrubbing and relaxing to your hearts content. Once you declared your spa night over, you lifted yourself up, albeit ungracefully, and wrapped yourself in a towel. Reaching for the clothes on the counter, you noticed your usual nightly attire replaced by a large t-shirt with cutouts in the back and some undies.

Back home, Azriel would often slip you one of his t-shirts whenever you complained about how uncomfortable your attire was to sleep in. It seemed like every week he would suddenly have a pile of clothes he no longer wore, coming to your room to drop off his “donations” with a soft smile and a teasing smirk. It didn’t pass on you that each one smelled more and more like him, rising confusion into just howww old each round of t-shirts was. You felt a giddy feeling ignite in your chest at the thoughtfulness of him laying one out for you.

Emerging from the bathroom, you suddenly felt the nerves of wearing so little in Azriel’s presence. Sure, he had seen you in this exact outfit hundreds of times over the years, but something about being in the small confines of the inn made it feel different. Almost like your teenage boyfriend seeing you in your swimsuit for the first time.

You padded lightly over to the fire, Azriel’s head snapping in your direction as you made your way towards him. While you felt a million times better, there was one small issue. You couldn’t clasp the buttons on the back of the shirt. Having a shirt made for Illyrian wings meant two gaping holes in the back, requiring multiple buttons to be clasped for each one to remain closed.

Turning around in front of Azriel, you pulled your damp hair over your shoulder to offer him your back, mewing out a weak “button me?” as you stilled. Gently, his large hands came to rest on the open fabric, pulling and buttoning each one slowly.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked, voice muffled by the concentration he held over the buttons. A wave of shivers went up your spine when his hand brushed the bare skin of your back, an uncontrollable goosebump breaking out in the open space. With a nervous giggle, you squirmed a little at the feeling, a small “so much better” leaving your lips in a sigh.

Once he was satisfied, Azriel gently gripped your wrist and turned you to him. Unbeknownst to you, he had taken the time you spent in the restroom to change, dry himself off, and even heat up some of the soup he had brought in his pack. He wore a simple black t-shirt, tattoos peaking out from the collar, with gray sweatpants. You felt your mouth water slightly at the sight of his shirt stretching over his taught shoulders, choosing to keep your gaze on his face instead.

Pushing down the blush forming on your cheeks, you prayed to the mother Azriel hadn’t caught your ogling, but the small smirk on his face crushed some of that hope. Without warning, he pulled you forward by your wrist, dragging you down into his lap. Your legs rested across his thighs, dangling on his other side, and your arms involuntarily wrapped around his neck. Almost like an instinct.

Azriel wrapped himself around you, one arm coming around your lower back while the other grabbed the back of your head gently, pulling you into him as he buried his face in your neck. You felt him take a deep inhale, his shoulders relaxing under your grip, before he muttered out an “I thought I lost you today.” against the skin of your shoulder. You let your eyes close and your body relax, pushing your face further into his collar like he did yours. An overwhelming scent of pinewood and man invaded your senses, immediately relaxing you and making you crave more.

“I’m sorry Azzie” you whispered, tightening your grip around his shoulders. “I should have paid more attention to where I was stepping.” following your confession as you slowly pulled back to meet his gaze. His eyes immediately found yours, amber glowing in the firelight as they took in your small, apologetic smile. His gaze searched your face for what felt like centuries, eyes catching on your mouth as you unknowingly bit down on your lip before his brows furrowed and a frustrated look took over his features.

“I-uh. I’m going to go get some water.” he rushed out, gently pushing you off of him and standing, leaving you with a pang in your chest. You watched his figure retreat to the door, brows furrowed and silent curiosity taking over when he didn’t even look back at you before he walked out, closing the door behind him.

After slurping down the rest of your soup, your eyes started to close tiredly as you sat patiently on the bed for Azriel’s return. He had only been gone for half an hour, but something in your chest was aching at his absence. Had you done something? Said something? You had been racking your brain endlessly for any hint as to what his distaste could be from, but were coming up empty.

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, you grabbed a pillow and small blanket from the bed before setting up your spot on the floor. Mother forgive if Azriel couldn’t even look at you and you forced him into sharing a bed. He had to be just as exhausted as you, and rather than face the awkward encounter when he returned, you decided to make the decision for the both of you.

Tucking yourself into the thin blanket, you laid your head on the pillow and closed your eyes. The only sounds in the room were the occasional dripping of the bathroom sink, and the cracking of the fire in the hearth. If you hadn’t have been so in your head, it would have been oddly relaxing. Well, relaxing for having your hip stabbing into the hardwood…

Somehow, sleep took over you, the crackling and dripping dwindling into silence as your body fully relaxed into the darkness. It felt like you had only dozed off for a few moments when you heard the door shut quietly on the other side of the room. You had laid out your palette in front of the fireplace, so whoever entered got a good look at your back upon entering the room.

Deciding you didn’t want to face the impending awkwardness, you remained still with your back turned to the door as you tried to listen for Azriel’s movements. He stepped a few feet into the room before you heard his footsteps pause, a quiet “Oh, angel.” coming from him before his footsteps resumed. You heard his footsteps carry over to the nightstand, something sounding like glass being sat atop of it, before he was on the move again.

Realizing he was coming towards you, you quickly shut your eyes and relaxed your features into the likes of sleeping. You knew it was childish, but you had no idea what to say after Azriel’s obvious discomfort. Maybe he would assume you were asleep and leave you be, everything going back to normal once the sun was shining and everyone was fully rested.

Those prayers were squashed when you felt his footsteps come right behind you, a thud escaping from the sound of his knees meeting the hardwood. He gently rolled you onto your back, his hands being as gentle as always with grabbing your shoulder and waist to assist him. Now that he was moving you, there was no way you could fake sleep without it being obvious, so you slowly peeled your eyes open to look up at him.

His gaze was saddened as he took in your features, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as his brows furrowed, leaving a crease between his brows. You blinked a few times to clear the fog, eyebrows raising in question as he stared down at you. “Why are you on the floor, angel?” he whispered, finger grazing your cheek gently as he awaited your reply.

You took a few seconds to generate a response, teeth taking claim to your lower lip as you weighed out your response. His amber eyes watched your movement for a second before coming back up to meet your own.

“I. I thought you were upset or uncomfortable or- I just. I didn’t want to force you to share a bed with me.” coming out weakly, your voice scratchy and worn from the sudden awaking from your slumber. You felt embarrassed at the admission, slowly tearing your gaze from his to look beside you at the fire.

At the turn of your head, his fingers gently found your chin before making you look up at him. “Force me?” rushed past his lips in an astounded tone, his frown getting even deeper at the thought. “Angel, I don’t give a damn how upset I seem.. Never. Ever. make excuses for me if it affects your well-being.” he demanded, eyes not leaving yours as he continued. “I could never be upset with you, angel. Never” his voice started out strong, but by the end of his sentence his voice came out more strangled than you had ever heard him.

Scrunching your brows in even more confusion, you opened your mouth to reply but couldn’t muster up a reply. When your mouth gently closed again, Azriel began sliding his arms underneath you, quick to scoop you off of the floor.

“Az- wait. It’s fine. I was comfortable.” you rushed out, fighting his grip to go back to your spot on the thin blanket. A scoff left his lips as he rounded the bed, gently sitting you down before turning your chin to him once again. “Gods this is all my fault” he muttered to himself before backing away from you again, going to grab the pillow and blanket off of the floor before returning to your bedside.

He gently ushered you to the other side of the bed, between him and the wall, before tucking you in and making sure you were fully covered. Once he was satisfied, he lowered himself into the bed, covering himself before propping his head on his hand to look at you.

Feeling nervous, you slowly began to roll the opposite way, hating the way his eye contact affected you. His hand shot out to grab your wrist at your movements, gently pulling you back around to face him as he scooted closer to you.

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you think I was upset with you.” he whispered, a serious concern taking over his features. Both of his hands came out to cup your face, his face so close to yours you could see the flecks of amber in his irises.

You pondered your response for a millisecond, deciding to just be honest. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you admitted, “It just seemed like you were angry with me by the way you left the room. Its okay. We can just go to bed and talk about it tomorrow.” you offered, a slight smile taking over your lips in reassurance.

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead to connect with your collarbone before letting out a pained “Fuck, angel. You’re killing me.”. He slowly lifted his gaze back up to you before a saddened look took over his features as he took you in. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” brushed past his lips as his thumbs rubbed soothing lines under your eyes.

Feeling a sudden wave of boldness, you let out a weak “show me, then.”, eyes staring deeply into his. You felt your heart rate pick up in anticipation, a flutter raising into your chest at the close proximity. At your words, Azriel let out a deep growl, hands sliding to the back of your head to lace into your hair. He cursed under his breath before exhaling, and the next thing you know his lips were on yours.

Azriel kissed you like a man starved. He craned your neck back for better access, kissing you deeper than before. His tongue invaded your mouth, your hands instinctively coming up to grip his t-shirt, eliciting another growl from him. As his kiss grew more desperate, you clung to him. A small throbbing began in your lower abdomen, a whine being pulled from your lips as Azriel ravished you.

He pulled back from you slightly, growling a quick “you have no idea how long I’ve needed this, baby.” before he pulled you back into him, one of his hands leaving your hair to graze down to your hip. Suddenly, he gripped your thigh, pulling it to rest over his hip before angling you to where he was slightly above you.

You moaned at the feeling of his length pressed against your core, his member already hardened from the short exchange. With a few thrusts of his hips, you were a whining mess, thoughts clouded and lips swollen from the intensity.

Just as he came down to kiss you again, a soft whine sound escaping from his throat as his dick grazed your center again, there was an overwhelming tug in your chest. A tug so tight and so intense it had you gasping at the feeling. Just when you thought your heart was about to explode, an invisible golden string appeared, tying you to the man above you.

“You- you’re. You’re my. My mate?” came from you in a rushed intensity, eyes flying open to meet Azriel’s piercing gaze.

“It’s about time you figured it out, baby.”

***

over time, he develops a collection, courtesy of you. there’s a cartoon frog, a marijuana leaf, an intricate silver dish, a coffin (he finds this one particularly amusing), and a dozen others just made from colourful glass. a couple of them are tenderly misshapen attempts from amateur pottery classes. each of his safe houses has a different one — each ashtray serves as a little reminder of you when he’s away from home.

right now, just the sight of the smouldering cigarette in that glass heart dish is making his heart ache. his boots are kicked up on the desk. he’s got fifty different cctv feeds open on his dozen-odd monitors, criminal case files and breaking news pages, but his eyes are glued to that little pink ashtray.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s nothing going on tonight. all his contacts are reporting as planned, nothing of note has popped up, there are no big moves happening. his fingers twitch towards the dwindling cigarette. bringing the filter between his lips and taking a drag, he knows there is zero reason he can’t go home to you right now.

so he does. he stubs out the cigarette butt and shuts off the computer. the room goes dark as all those blinking monitors sleep for the night. a twinge in his chest; he’s here in a dark, concrete bunker and you’re probably cozied up in the living room with your book. it doesn’t matter. he’s coming home to you.

it’s getting to that point in the year where the evening air is balmy even with the fresh breeze, instead of piercing through to the bone like the few months prior. jason doesn’t even need a jacket, really, but he keeps it on because he likes to tuck his hands into the pockets. the magnolia trees have almost shed all their flowers in favour of glossy, green leaves. the sun only set a couple hours ago; the scent of sun on pavement is still ripe.

he practically throws himself up the fire escape. it’s frantic, almost irrational. he slides open the living room window, then there’s the thud of his boots hitting the hardwood, his eyes move towards the couch as if magnetized and—

there you are. his sweet baby.

just like he thought you’d be, you’ve got your book and your favourite blanket, cuddled up in your favourite spot on the couch, with your favourite drink on a coaster near you. something in his chest immediately settles, his mind goes quiet. that right there — the peace you bring him? that’s better than any nicotine rush.

after shedding his jacket and boots, he lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of you. jason nudges your book out of the way and instead lays his head in your lap. deep breath in, deep breath out. your familiar scent fills his lungs (again, better than nicotine).

“you’re home early,” you muse quietly, fingers slipping into his fluffy locks. it’s late, but not according to gotham’s vigilantes.

“couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs. “comms were quiet, no big moves happenin’ tonight. besides, i’d be useless out there if anything did happen; only thing runnin’ through my mind is you, angel.”

his gaze meets yours as he leans into your touch, making him look like a puppy in need of attention. jason’s eyes are an interesting colour which has always fascinated you: they’re almost hazel, but the green is so bright that you’re not quite sure it qualifies. regardless, it’s hypnotizing— he’s hypnotizing.

“i’m not sure what you’re trying to butter me up for,” you tease, “but it might work.”

“swear to god i’m not,” he replies, voice softened by your thumb now smoothing over his cheekbone. his soft (even if a little chapped) lips press to the fleshy part of your palm just below your thumb. “just… it’s stupid, but i kept lookin’ at that ashtray you got me. y’know, the pink heart? couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

a soft hum resonates from your chest. at first glance, most people think jason is some tough, unfeeling delinquent. they don’t know how much he craves the soft warmth of your skin. you’d call him touch-starved, but you both know he’s not starved for it at all. not as long as you’re around.

“should we go to bed?” you tilt his head up a little more towards you.

those big, pretty eyes stare back. he nods.

“are you gonna go smoke first?” you ask, leaning down to peck his lips.

“don’t need it,” comes the answer. “so long as you keep kissing me.”