Untitled

He was laying down in a bed — not his bed, really. The air in the room was cold, but he didn’t bother to pull the blanket on top of him.

The one thing he liked about the dark was the silence, the cocoon of protection and liberation it gave him to be whatever he wanted to be — a cadet, a monster, a person.

The first couldn’t exist without the second. He made it so. If Basgiath wanted a traitor, if Basgiath wanted a threat, he would be one. It was easier; so much easier to pretend that nothing hurt him, that he could cause more pain in return than to admit that he was hollow. So utterly hollow and yet powerless to try and fill that ache.

“You need to stay, Xaden!” Voices rose from the depths of his mind before he could stop it.

“No! I’m coming with you! I am not letting you on that battlefield alone!”

“Son, I need you alive! You are all that is left of Tyrrendor if—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“I promised her— I promised myself that if there was one thing I was going to do in my life, it was to make sure that you come out of this alive. I need you alive, Xaden.”

“And you’re allowed to go out there and potentially die? While I sit back in this house and do fucking nothing?”

“Stay in the house with the rest of the children, Xaden.”

“Is that an order, Your Grace?”

“Don’t do that, Xaden. They need you. They need strength.”

“And what if I need strength?”

“Then you find it here, where she is.”

“Don’t you dare talk about mother now—”

“Goodbye, Xaden.”

“Dad? Dad!”

He had never been religious. Never given the gods any thought in his life. And yet he found himself praying to every god he could think of that night. 

Xaden had turned numb since and then dull and sharp at the same time.

Nothing could touch him if he cut himself off from the pain. Nothing could touch him if he learned instead to use it. 

Swords, blades, shadows — one by one he used them to tell the whoever would listen that if they wanted to paint him as the monster, the villain in their story, he would fucking pose.

What a horrifying picture it made; dark as the shadows he wielded, stained with red from the blood that dripped between his fingers in cold rivulets.

Drip, drip, drip.

Sweat beaded on his skin as he punched the bag harder. His shoulders ached, his knuckles were sore, yet his heart burned bright enough to keep going even when his body gave out.

He felt eyes from across the room more than he felt his body scream for a break — could practically hear their satisfaction of their expectations confirmed.

He’s ruthless. He killed a cadet in Threshing. His dragon fucking cooked a cadet yesterday, was it his idea or hers?

He let his hands fall to his sides as his chest heaved as he caught his breath and took off his gloves.

The muscles of his forearms flexed and tensed — drawing the gazes and not-so-censored thoughts of cadets around him.

Xaden genuinely couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about anything as of late. He only felt at surface level.

He felt his knuckles split every time he landed a punch just right. He felt boredom when he had to wait for the rest of the cadets to catch up in Battle Brief. He felt power when he stepped onto the mat. His battlefield, one that he could control.

Control. That was all that it boiled down to, wasn’t it? Control of power, control of others, control of his own fucking life.

“The only thing you can control in life is yourself, Xaden.”

A voice, one that he recognized and yet didn’t at the same time.

A breeze blew through the strands of his hair — warm, pleasant with the scent of… salt?

Senses came back to him in fragments. Touch — grass under his fingers, wind blowing in his face. Smell — the sea and something that can only be described as liquid sunshine. Sound — Waves crashing against rock in the distance and that voice, connected to a person he couldn’t put his finger on. Then finally, sight.

He recognized where he was immediately: the cliffs of Dralor. Just a few hours away from Aretia, his home.

The sun was setting, a glow of white and yellow sinking into the restless blue of the ocean below.

“All you can do is try to protect others.”

Xaden turned his head and saw the person linked to that voice — but saw was not exactly the word.

It was like a linen sheet was thrown over them— her, now that his awareness was sharpening.

He could see a silhouette, the beginnings of a person but it was as if she was an apparition, flickering between this realm and the next.

“Just don’t lose yourself in the process.” Her figure became sharper before blurring again.

“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be,” Xaden replied, resting his arm on a raised knee. “A cadet, a brother, a killer, a monster.”

“You can be all of them,” she replied. “But at the end of the day you still have to be yourself, Xaden. Or what would all of this be for?”

“The kids,” Xaden replied. “For the marked ones.”

“But you’re a marked one too. You were a child once.”

“But I can’t be one anymore. I have to be strong for them, even if strong means ruthless.”

She shook her head and for a split second, Xaden thought he saw a grin on her face before her face became blurred again, like it was still deciding what it should look like.

“That’s so like you, Xaden — giving up yourself, your love for those who can’t.”

“I don’t think I can love anymore. I’ve taken too much.”

“The thing about love is that it isn’t picky. It chooses those it thinks needs it.”

“And you think I need love?”

“Everybody needs love, Xaden.”

He plucked a small spot of color he saw amidst the green of the grass. A small forget-me-not.

“Do you believe in love, Xaden?”

Eyes opened before consciousness found its footing.

He inhaled sharply and for a brief moment he wondered why he didn’t smell the ocean.

It was all a fucking dream.

He draped his forearm over his eyes, covering the streaks of the rising sun as it broke through his curtains like a stubborn child.

Xaden would forget this dream by noon, forget the moment by the sunshine, forget-me-nots, and sea. He’ll forget the woman in the wind, go through his days as a cadet, killer and monster and go oblivious to the fact that she was an ocean away, thinking of him in her waking hours, wondering just how much he had changed.

15 minutes after arriving at your room, you were still locked in the bathroom. The reason? Rhysand, your secret love. The best athlete in the entire University, the best student, the most handsome, charismatic and kind to everyone. And he was on the other side of the door waiting for you to go to sleep, or so you think.

After 2 hours of traveling on the bus, your class had arrived at the town where you were going to spend the week. The rooms were chosen by lottery... to your bad (or good) luck you and Rhys got the only one-bed room. At that moment you didn't know if you wanted to die of shame or happiness at being with Rhys.

You splash water on your face and finish putting on your pajamas. You open the door and stand in place. Rhys sleeps without a shirt. Even though it was winter and 3 degrees, apparently his body gave off too much heat to be wearing a shirt.Shit, shit, shit.Lying on the bed, you look at his tattooed pecs and arms. Glasses make his already attractive face look like it was sculpted by the best sculptor. Rhys looks up from the book he's reading and watches you with a small smile.

“You're not thinking about sleeping standing up there, are you?”

You come out of your stupor, a crimson coloring your cheeks. You roll your eyes and with a courage that you don't know where you got it from, you smile back.

"Of course not"

You go to the bed and lie down at a respectable distance so as not to bother him... or so as not to die of a heart attack if you touch him. Already under the covers, you turn so that your back is turned to him and you look at the moon through the window.

“You can come closer to me, I'm not going to bite you.”

“I'm fine, don't worry”

"Sure?"

“Yes, good night Rhys.”

But you couldn't sleep. It was 3 in the morning and you were still awake. After tossing and turning, you finally decide to lie on your back, staring at the ceiling. You notice the bed move next to you and you hear Rhys's voice, nothing more than a whisper in the darkness.

"You can not sleep?"

You sigh and rub your eyes with your hands and then rest them on your stomach. “No, I can't sleep.”

"Me neither"

“I thought you fell asleep after reading.”

“No, the truth is that it has left me thinking”

“How deep was the book?”

A low laugh escapes his lips. “It was rather romantic.”

You turn to look at him and find his violet eyes already looking at you.

“I didn't take you for a romantic, Rhysand.”

He turns to face you.

“No, I wasn't romantic, but a girl made me change. A beautiful and smart girl, kind to everyone, and almost always has a dreamy look that makes her more magnificent. She has the most perfect laugh there can be, delicate hands like the wings of a swan, and her body drives me crazy every time I see it.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek. “She's perfect.”

Your heart stops. It can't be happening, he can't be talking about you. But that caress...

“She seems to be a good girl, doesn't she?” You swallow.

He moves closer to you, his thumb caressing your lower lip and your stomach explodes into thousands of butterflies. So many, that you think they will come out of your mouth if you open it. When only millimeters separate you, he whispers: “Yes it is. And I have it right where I want.”

His mouth caresses yours gently, not wanting to scare you. You slowly close your eyes and follow the kiss. With a hand trembling with nerves, you stroke the hair on his neck and marvel at the softness of his black hair. His hand pulls you around your waist and your arms hug his shoulders. The kiss is perfect, soft and delicate, unhurried, savoring the moment.

You separate and hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment, you hear his laughter and his hand caresses your hair gently while he places a kiss on your hair.

“You're adorable, I can't believe I have you all to myself.”

tags: @danikamariewrites @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies

The Townhouse had never really been mine. It had always felt like I was borrowing space in someone else's life, walking through rooms that belonged to other people, living in a place where I was always slightly out of place.

But the cottage... the cottage felt like something that could belong to me. To us.

When I had asked Azriel why he had lived in the Townhouse with me if he had owned this place the entire time, he had looked at me like the answer was obvious.

"I wanted to be where you were," he had said simply.

That had been the end of the conversation, but not the end of the way my heart had reacted to those words.

This morning, I woke slowly, warm and comfortable in a way I wasn't used to.

Golden sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft light. For a moment, I didn't move, still half-asleep, listening to the quiet sounds of the cottage, birds outside, the faint creak of wood, the steady breathing behind me.

Behind me.

I became aware of the arm draped over my waist, the warmth of a body pressed along my back, the slow rise and fall of Azriel's chest against my shoulder.

Last night had been the first night we had fallen asleep in the same bed.

Not because we had to. Not because of the bond. Not because of anything except that at some point, while talking and laughing quietly under the blankets like teenagers, we had both fallen asleep without meaning to.

He had been very careful with me these past weeks. 

Careful in a way that was almost painful to watch. He never pushed, never assumed, never took more space than I offered. 

We had separate rooms in the cottage and he had made it very clear from the beginning that nothing between us would be forced just because we were mates.

So this, waking up in his arms felt like a choice. My choice. His choice.

Our choice.

I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around me immediately, instinctively, like he had been awake longer than I realised.

I turned my head slightly and found hazel eyes already watching me.

He looked softer in the morning. Less like the Night Court's Shadowsinger and more like just... Azriel. Just the male who watched me like I was something fragile and important all at once.

"Good morning," I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," Azriel replied quietly, his voice low and rough like he hadn't spoken yet today. His arms tightened around me slightly as he buried his face briefly in my hair.

I closed my eyes for a moment, just feeling it, the warmth, the safety, the steady way he held me like he wasn't afraid of me disappearing.

There was one feeling I had never felt with Azriel.

Forgotten.

With him, I was never forgotten. Never overlooked. Never the extra person in the room. Never the sister that people remembered last.

With him, I felt... chosen. Every day. In small, quiet ways.

"What are you going to do today?" he asked after a moment, his nose brushing lightly against my hair.

I smiled a little. "I was thinking I might go to the market. Maybe get some fruit. Try cooking something again, even though the last time was a disaster."

"It wasn't a disaster," he said immediately.

"It caught on fire, Azriel."

He paused. "A small fire."

I laughed softly, and the sound seemed to make him relax even more behind me. "I might also start that puzzle you brought home," I continued. "The ridiculously hard one."

"The one with all the stars?" he asked.

"Yes. I still think you bought that just to watch me suffer."

"I bought it because you looked at it for ten minutes and didn't realise I was standing next to you," he said. "You only do that when you really like something."

I rolled onto my back slightly so I could look at him properly. "You notice everything, don't you?"

"Everything about you," he said quietly.

There was no hesitation. No embarrassment. Just truth.

I studied his face for a moment, then reached up and brushed a piece of dark hair away from his forehead without really thinking about it. He went very still when I touched him, like even now he wasn't used to casual affection.

"What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing today?"

"I have to go to Windhaven," he said with a small sigh. "Training inspections. Cassian asked me to look at some of the Illyrian camps with him."

"That sounds... violent," I said.

"It usually is," he replied dryly.

I traced a small, absentminded pattern on the back of his hand where it rested on my waist. "Come back early," I said softly.

His eyes shifted to mine immediately at that, something warm and almost surprised flickering across his face.

"I always come back to you," he said.

And for the first time in my life, I believed someone when they said something like that.

I shifted closer to him then, resting my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His arm tightened around me again automatically, like this was where I was supposed to be.

For once, my mind wasn't racing. I wasn't thinking about the past, or my sisters, or the Cauldron, or the kidnapping, or the years I had felt invisible.

For once, I was just... happy. Quietly, softly, peacefully happy.

That happiness was interrupted by a small bundle of black fur launching onto the bed and meowing loudly directly into our faces.

I laughed immediately, the sound still a little sleepy. "Good morning to you too, Nova."

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh beside me, one hand coming up to pet her as she aggressively pawed at the blankets and then at his arm like she was personally offended by our lack of movement.

"I think someone's a little hungry," he murmured, scratching under her chin. "And a little impatient."

Nova meowed again, louder this time, then stepped directly onto Azriel's chest and sat down like she owned him.

I pushed myself up onto one elbow, grinning. "She likes you more than me now."

"That's because I feed her extra treats," he replied calmly.

"That is betrayal," I said, gasping slightly. "I saved her life and you win her over with food."

Nova meowed again like she was agreeing with him.

Azriel looked at the cat very seriously. "You're causing problems in my relationship."

Nova blinked slowly and then headbutted his chin.

I laughed again, sliding out of bed and stretching slightly, wincing only a little where my injuries were still healing. 

"Come on, traitor," I said to Nova. "Let's get you food before you start committing crimes."

Azriel followed me into the small kitchen a moment later, still half-smiling in that quiet way he did now more often than not. 

The cottage kitchen was small but warm, sunlight spilling across the wooden counters, a small table by the window, herbs hanging to dry near the back door.

It felt like a real home. Not a palace. Not a townhouse full of important people and important decisions.

Just a home.

I scooped food into Nova's bowl and set it down, and she immediately attacked it like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

"She definitely likes you more," I said, watching her.

Azriel leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely. "She follows you from room to room. She sleeps on your clothes. She screams when you leave the house. I think I'm just the chef."

"That sounds right," I nodded seriously.

He walked over then, stopping behind me, and I felt his hands settle lightly on my hips, his chin resting briefly on my shoulder. The contact was still new enough that every time he touched me like this, my heart did something stupid and warm in my chest.

"You're happy here," he said quietly.

It wasn't a question.

I nodded slightly. "I am."

His arms tightened just a little around me, like that answer meant more to him than I understood.

Before either of us could say anything else, there was a knock on the front door. We both froze.

Azriel's shadows immediately stirred slightly around the room, reacting before he even moved, and he straightened behind me.

"I'll get it," he said quietly.

Something in his tone made my stomach twist slightly. I didn't know why.

We walked to the door together anyway. When Azriel opened it, I stopped in the hallway.

Feyre, Elain, and Nesta were standing on the small stone path outside the cottage. All three of them looked nervous.

I had never seen Nesta look nervous in my entire life.

For a moment, none of us said anything. The air felt thick and awkward and heavy with everything that had happened at that dinner, everything that had been said that couldn't be unsaid.

Feyre spoke first. "Can we come in?" she asked quietly.

I hesitated, then nodded and stepped back.

They walked into the cottage slowly, looking around like they were trying to understand this new part of my life they had never seen before.

"It's beautiful," Elain said softly, looking at the windows and the flowers outside. "It suits you."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

We all stood awkwardly in the small living room for a moment until Nesta finally spoke, crossing her arms slightly like she was bracing herself.

"We came to apologise," she said bluntly.

I blinked, surprised.

Feyre stepped forward slightly. "We should have come sooner," she said. "After dinner. After everything. But we... we didn't know if you'd want to see us."

"You had every right to say everything you said," Elain added quietly, her eyes already glossy. "We just didn't realise how much you were holding in."

Nesta looked at me directly then, her eyes sharp but not cruel for once. "I was hard on you growing up," she said. "Harder than I should have been. And when we came here... I was so busy surviving, and then rebuilding, and then dealing with my own mess that I didn't see that you were alone."

I didn't say anything. I just listened.

Feyre swallowed slightly. "You were never supposed to feel forgotten. Not by us. Never by us."

"But I did," I said quietly.

"I know," she whispered.

Elain stepped forward then and took my hand gently. "We can't fix the past," she said. "But we want to be better now. If you'll let us."

Nesta nodded once. "We don't expect everything to be fine overnight. But we want to try. If you're willing to give us that chance."

I looked at all three of them, my sisters, who had been my entire world once, then strangers, then something in between.

"I don't know how to fix everything," I admitted quietly.

"We don't either," Feyre said. "We'll figure it out."

I took a slow breath, then nodded slightly. "Okay," I said. "We can try."

Relief visibly washed over all three of them at once.

Feyre stepped forward and hugged me carefully, mindful of my still-healing injuries. Elain hugged me next, lingering like she always did. Nesta hesitated, then pulled me into a quick, tight hug that said more than words ever could.

After a few more quiet words, they left the cottage, promising to visit again soon, promising dinner again but maybe without fighting next time.

When the door closed behind them, the cottage went quiet again.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, feeling like something in my life had just quietly shifted back into place.

Then I felt arms slide around my waist from behind. Azriel. He pulled me back gently against his chest, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

I nodded, leaning back into him. "Yeah," I said. "I think I am."

His arms tightened slightly around me, holding me like he always did, like he wasn't afraid of me breaking, but like he would catch me if I did anyway.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt... right. Not perfect. Not magically fixed. But right.

I had a home. I had my sisters. I had Nova. I had him.

And as Azriel pressed a soft kiss against my temple and held me in the quiet little cottage that had somehow become my entire world, I realised this was the perfect ending.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something even better.

Azriel's POV - 

Being the Spymaster certainly had its perks.

Information, power, influence, shadows that whispered secrets from across Prythian.

But none of those things compared to this.

I stood quietly in the doorway of the cottage kitchen, watching my mate attempt to cook dinner while Nova committed crimes at her feet and some of my shadows "helped" in the most unhelpful ways possible.

She hadn't noticed me yet. 

I hadn't announced my return from Windhaven, I had simply stepped into the house, removed my boots, and followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen.

She was talking. Not to herself. To my shadows.

"Well that's not helpful," she was saying, pointing a wooden spoon at a thin wisp of shadow that was hovering over a bowl. "You can't just knock the flour over and then hide the evidence. That's suspicious behaviour."

The shadow curled in on itself like it was offended.

Another shadow drifted lower and nudged the spoon slightly closer to her hand where she had set it down without realising.

"Oh," she said, noticing. "Thank you. See? You're useful. You can stay."

Nova chose that exact moment to swipe something off the counter and run across the floor with it.

"Nova!" she called, turning quickly. "That's not yours!"

Nova did not listen. Nova never listened.

One of my shadows darted across the floor and blocked Nova's escape route, swirling in front of her like a wall. Nova skidded to a stop, looked at the shadow, then looked deeply offended before dropping the stolen piece of food and meowing loudly.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms, and just watched for a moment.

This was not a life I had ever imagined for myself.

I had always assumed my life would be quiet, dark, and solitary. Missions, secrets, violence, shadows, silence. That had been enough for me for centuries.

But now there was flour on the counter, a half-burnt loaf of bread, a cat that stole food, and my shadows, my terrifying, whispering shadows were playing with a piece of string on the floor with Nova like children.

And in the middle of all of it was her. Alive. Safe. In my home. In my life. My mate.

She finally turned slightly and froze when she saw me standing there.

"You're back," she said, and her face immediately softened in that way that still made something in my chest feel too tight.

"I'm back," I said quietly.

She wiped her hands quickly on a cloth and walked over to me without hesitation now, like she had gotten used to me being here, like she expected me to come back to her.

She stopped in front of me and looked up. "How was Windhaven?"

"Cold. Loud. Cassian yelled at a lot of people," I replied.

She smiled slightly. "Sounds accurate."

I reached out and brushed a bit of flour off her cheek with my thumb. "You've made a mess."

"I am cooking," she said defensively.

"You are committing a war crime in our kitchen."

She gasped softly. "Rude. After I cooked for you."

"You haven't cooked anything yet," I said, glancing at the counter. "You've created ingredients."

She tried very hard not to smile and failed.

One of my shadows drifted up between us and gently pushed her hand toward mine where it hung at my side. I looked down at it, then at the shadow.

"Traitor," I muttered.

She laughed softly. "They like me more than you."

"They do not."

"They absolutely do."

Nova jumped onto a chair at that exact moment and meowed loudly like she was contributing to the argument.

I shook my head slightly, then looked back at her. Really looked at her.

Three weeks ago she had been hanging from chains, bruised, bleeding, broken.

Now she was standing in my kitchen, covered in flour, arguing with me about cooking while my shadows played with her cat.

The Mother had given me many things in my long life but this, this was the only gift that had ever mattered.

I reached for her then, sliding a hand gently around the back of her neck and pulling her closer. She didn't hesitate. Didn't pull away. She stepped into me like she belonged there.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," I replied.

Then I kissed her. Slowly. Carefully. Like I had all the time in the world.

Her hands came up to rest lightly against my chest, and she leaned into the kiss like she trusted me, like she wasn't afraid anymore, like she knew I would never let anything happen to her again.

When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead lightly against mine for a moment.

"You're staring at me," she whispered.

"I do that," I said.

"I know."

We did eventually abandon the cooking. The bread was slightly burnt, the vegetables unevenly cut, and Nova stole at least three pieces of something when we weren't looking.

Later that evening, we curled up on the couch in the small living room, a blanket thrown over us, Nova firmly planted between us like she was the most important member of the household.

My arm was around her shoulders, her head resting against my chest, my fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on her arm while my shadows drifted lazily around the room, calm and quiet and content.

"I like this," she said quietly.

"This?" I asked.

"This life," she said. "This house. You. Nova. The shadows. All of it. I like this life."

I tightened my arm around her slightly and pressed a kiss into her hair. "So do I," I said.

And for the first time in my long, violent, secret-filled life, I realised something as I sat there in a quiet cottage, holding the female I loved while a small black cat slept between us and my shadows rested peacefully around the room.

I had spent centuries living in the dark. And somehow, without me even realising when it happened, she had become my light.

And I would spend the rest of my life making sure she never felt forgotten again.

A/N - Final part!! And obviously we had to end on some soft domestic fluff and a little reconciliation moment... because duh!!

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's definitely on the shorter side and not super plot-heavy, but I was really in the mood to write some hurt/comfort and this little story just kind of became that x

The next series is called "Legacies" and the masterlist is already posted for anybody interested—it's Azriel as a (young adult's) dad with chaos and teasing :)

Thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you think <33

After I didn't respond to his confession, he left my room quietly, like he didn't want to pressure me. Like he was giving me space to breathe. 

I spent the rest of the day in bed staring at the ceiling, Nova curled against my side, my mind replaying every word he had said over and over again until I felt like I might lose my mind.

Then Feyre sent word. Dinner. At the River House. With everyone.

I stared at the note for a long time.

I didn't want to go. I didn't want the looks, the pity, the careful voices, the hovering. I didn't want them watching me like I might break at any second. I didn't want to sit at that table and pretend everything was normal when nothing felt normal anymore.

I wanted to go back to sleep and stay asleep.

But I knew Feyre. And Nesta. And Elain.

If I didn't go, they would come to me. And somehow that felt worse.

So I got dressed slowly, wincing as fabric brushed against bandages and bruises. I chose a simple black dress, loose enough not to press too hard against the worst of the injuries. 

White bandages still showed at my wrists and collarbone, stark against the dark fabric, but I didn't bother trying to hide them.

Let them look. Let them see what happened.

When I stepped into the sitting room, Azriel was already there, waiting to winnow us. He looked up when I entered, his hazel eyes scanning me quickly like he was checking for new injuries, new pain, new signs that I wasn't okay.

He didn't comment on the dress. Or the bandages. Or the fact that I hadn't spoken to him since his confession.

He just nodded once. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

I nodded back.

Just as I him, Nova darted past me and practically threw herself at my legs, meowing loudly.

"No, Nova," I murmured, trying to gently push her back inside. "You can't come."

Nova just stared up at me, green eyes wide and stubborn, and meowed again like she was arguing with me.

I sighed. "You're impossible."

"Bring her," Azriel said quietly behind me. "She clearly missed you."

I glanced at him and he gave a small shrug like it was obvious.

So I bent down and scooped Nova into my arms. She immediately started purring loudly like she had won some grand battle.

Azriel stepped closer then, a hand lightly brushing my arm as he winnowed us away.

The River House appeared around us in a blur of darkness and wind, and the moment we stepped into the foyer, Feyre was there.

She crossed the room quickly and wrapped her arms around me before I could even say hello. Nova meowed loudly between us, squished between our bodies.

"I was so worried," Feyre whispered, holding me tightly.

I stiffened slightly in her arms. "You were?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She pulled back, frowning slightly. "Of course I was."

Nesta stepped forward next and pulled me into a quick, tight hug. "You scared everyone," she said quietly.

Elain hugged me last, lingering longer than the others, her arms gentle around me like I might break. When she pulled back, her eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.

She led me to a chair beside her at the table.

Dinner started fine. A little awkward. A little quiet. A little too careful.

Everyone kept glancing at me like they were waiting for me to shatter. Cassian tried to tell a story about training, Rhys made some comment about Velaris, Feyre asked Elain about her garden, and I sat there pushing food around my plate while Nova curled in my lap.

It almost felt normal. Almost.

Then Nesta spoke, and it wasn't what she said so much as how normal she sounded when she said it.

"So you brought the cat?" she asked, nodding toward Nova curled in my lap like this was any other dinner, any other night.

"Nova," I replied automatically, running my fingers along her back. "Her name is Nova. And yes... she's a little attached."

Nesta gave a small huff of amusement and Cassian chuckled under his breath. Across the table, Elain smiled softly like the whole thing was harmless, like this was just light conversation.

"Attached?" Elain said gently. "She's just a pet."

It was such a small comment. So small. So normal.

But something about the way she said it—light, dismissive, like Nova didn't matter, like none of this mattered made something inside my chest twist sharply.

I stared down at Nova for a moment, at the way she was curled into me like I was her entire world, like she had followed me into darkness and back without hesitation, like she had been the only one waiting for me every single day in that empty Townhouse.

And before I could stop myself, before I could swallow the words down like I usually did, I spoke.

"At least she fucking cares."

The words fell into the room like glass shattering.

Silence followed immediately. Heavy, stunned silence. I looked up slowly and every single person at the table was staring at me.

Nesta's expression hardened first. "Don't yell at Elain," she said sharply. "You know she's more sensitive."

Something hot and ugly flared in my chest.

"Oh my gods," I said, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh as I dropped my fork onto the plate with a sharp clatter. "You and Elain weren't the only ones who went into that forsaken Cauldron, you know."

"That's not what this is about," Nesta snapped immediately.

"No, Nesta," I said, shaking my head, my voice rising despite myself. "It never is about me, is it? It never has been."

"That's not fair," Feyre said quietly.

"No?" I looked around the table at all of them. "Since we were children, Nesta, you were cruel and mean and I just... I took it. I always took it because that was easier than fighting with you."

Nesta's eyes flashed. "You're not seriously bringing up our childhood right now."

"I'm bringing up my entire life right now," I shot back. "Because I am so tired of pretending none of it mattered."

"Stop yelling," Elain said softly, shrinking slightly in her chair.

I turned toward her, anger spilling over now, years of it, not just tonight. 

"You always do that," I said. "You just sit there and act sweet and quiet and innocent and never pick a side unless it benefits you."

Elain looked like I had slapped her. "That's not fair."

"Nothing about this is fair," I said, my voice shaking now but I couldn't stop. "None of this has ever been fair."

"Can everybody please just eat dinner?" Feyre said, her voice tight, like she was trying to hold the entire room together by herself.

I pushed my chair back suddenly and stood up, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.

"No," I said. "We can't just eat dinner. I can't sit here and pretend everything is fine when I was kidnapped and tortured because of you."

Silence fell over the table like a physical thing.

Feyre went pale. "What?"

"Because of you and your mate," I said, my voice shaking now but I couldn't stop. "They wanted revenge on Rhysand, so they took me. Not you. Not Nesta. Not Elain. Me. Because I was the easiest one to take."

"That's not your fault," Feyre said immediately.

"Isn't it?" I laughed bitterly. "I was taken because I'm the extra sister. The unimportant one. The one no one watches as closely. The one no one would notice was gone right away."

"That's not true," Cassian said.

"Isn't it?" I snapped, looking around the table. "How long did it take before you all realised I was gone? How long before someone noticed I wasn't at the Townhouse?"

No one answered. That hurt more than if they had yelled back.

"You all have titles," I continued, breathing hard now. "High Lady. Valkyrie. Seer. Lady Death. Cursebreaker. And I am what? Nothing. I went into the Cauldron too. I lost my human life too. I have nightmares too. But no one ever asks me if I'm okay."

Tears were running down my face now but I didn't stop.

"I was hanging from chains in a dark room for days and I kept thinking, they're not coming," I said, my voice breaking. "They're not coming because I don't matter enough for anyone to come."

"That's not true," Feyre whispered, tears in her own eyes now.

"Then why does it always feel like it is?" I asked quietly.

No one had an answer.

I looked around the table at all of them, my sisters, their mates, this family that I was somehow part of but never quite felt like I belonged to.

"I was forgotten long before I was kidnapped," I said softly.

Then I turned and walked out of the room before anyone could stop me.

Nova jumped down from the chair and ran after me immediately, her small paws tapping quickly against the floor as she followed me out of the River House and into the night.

Azriel's POV - 

Dinner had taken a turn for the worst.

That was an understatement. It had detonated, years of silence and hurt and misunderstandings exploding in the middle of the dining room, and I had watched the entire thing unfold knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I heard the front door slam shut behind her, the sound echoing through the house. 

The room went completely silent after that, everyone staring at the empty doorway she had just disappeared through.

It was Rhys who moved first, straightening slightly, already opening his mouth, probably to say something diplomatic, something High Lord-like, something about giving her space or how they should handle this carefully.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. Whatever he saw on my face made him stop immediately.

"I am speaking to you as your brother right now," I said quietly, but there was nothing soft in my voice. "Do not even think about saying anything. Not tonight."

Rhys held my stare for a long moment, then slowly closed his mouth. He understood. This wasn't a High Lord situation. This wasn't a court problem.

This was mine.

And then I turned and walked out of the River House after her.

There was no way I was letting her walk home alone tonight. Not after everything she had just said. Not after the way her hands had been shaking. Not after the look on her face when she said she had been forgotten.

I found her halfway across the bridge leading out of the district, walking quickly, arms wrapped around herself, Nova trotting close behind her like a small black shadow.

I didn't call out to her. I didn't want to startle her. I just followed at a distance, silent, my shadows keeping me hidden in the dim light.

She knew I was there.

I could tell by the way her shoulders tensed slightly, by the way she slowed just a fraction like she was listening for footsteps behind her.

Eventually, she stopped walking.

She didn't turn around right away. She just stood there in the middle of the quiet street, Nova sitting beside her feet, looking back and forth between us like she knew this was important.

Finally, she turned. "I know you're there," she said quietly.

I stepped out of the shadows then, letting her see me fully.

For a moment, we just looked at each other in the soft glow of the streetlights. Her eyes were still a little red from crying, her posture tired, like the argument had drained the last of her strength.

"I wasn't going to let you walk home alone," I said.

"I figured," she replied softly.

Silence fell between us again, but it wasn't as heavy as before. Just quiet. Just tired. She looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at me.

"I don't know how to be someone's first choice," she said suddenly.

The words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them.

I didn't answer right away. I just walked closer to her, slowly, like approaching a frightened animal that might run if I moved too fast.

When I was close enough, I held out my hand toward her, palm up, giving her the choice.

She looked at my hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine.

Her fingers were cold. I closed my hand gently around hers, careful of the bandages around her wrist, and I felt something in my chest settle slightly at the contact.

"You don't have to know how," I said quietly. "You just have to let someone choose you."

She looked up at me then, her eyes searching my face like she was trying to find a lie there.

"I have always chosen you," I continued softly. "Even when you didn't know it. Even when I stayed away. Even when I thought you deserved better than me. It has always been you."

Her grip on my hand tightened slightly.

After a moment, I reached carefully for the bond between us, that invisible thread that had nearly driven me insane when she was gone. 

I tugged on it very gently, just a small pull, more curiosity than anything.

She gasped slightly and took a small step forward without meaning to, her body responding before her mind did.

I caught her immediately with my other hand on her arm to steady her.

Her eyes widened slightly. "You did that."

I nodded once. "I can feel you through it. I would never use it to control you. But... I can feel if you're hurt. If you're scared."

She was quiet for a moment, then she did something I didn't expect.

She reached for the bond too.

I felt it immediately, a small, hesitant tug from her side, like she was testing it, like she was making sure it was real. The pull landed somewhere deep in my chest, warm and strange and overwhelming all at once.

I took an involuntary step closer to her this time. She looked up at me, surprised.

We both went very still for a moment.

Then, slowly, she smiled. It was small. Tired. A little sad. But it was real.

And I realised in that moment I would spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that smile.

A/N - Dinner did not go according to plan. It was a long-overdue explosion of feelings, and honestly? It needed to happen. Even if it hurt :(

On the brighter side, Azriel actually goes after her this time (growth) and we finally get a glimpse of her opening up about her fears instead of just burying them. Progress!!

And that ending... a tiny bit of hope, just a little but we'll take it x

Thank you so much for reading <33

The whip. The knife. The slow, deliberate cuts that burned twice as badly when my skin was already frozen and soaked.

I had stopped screaming a long time ago. Now the tears just fell silently, slipping down my face without me even noticing anymore. Crying had become as natural as breathing.

I didn't know how many days I had been there. I didn't know if anyone was looking for me. I didn't know if anyone cared.

I hung from the chains again, my wrists raw and burning, my feet barely touching the ground, my thin white shift torn and stained and clinging to my skin. 

Every part of my body hurt. Even breathing hurt.

The door opened again. I didn't even lift my head at first.

"Still alive?" Dante's voice echoed through the room, amused and cruel.

I closed my eyes. "Barely," I whispered.

He laughed at that, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Boots approached slowly until he stood in front of me. I forced myself to look up at him, even though my vision blurred slightly.

"You know," he said casually, spinning a knife between his fingers, "your mate is taking a very long time to find you."

I didn't answer.

He grabbed my chin suddenly, forcing my head up. "I expected more from him. I thought he'd tear the world apart by now."

"He doesn't care," I said quietly.

Dante smiled slowly. "Still telling yourself that?"

"It's true," I whispered. "He never wanted me. He avoided me before you even took me."

Dante tilted his head slightly, studying my face like I was something interesting. "You really believe that, don't you?"

I didn't answer because if I spoke, I might cry again. And I was so tired of crying.

Dante stepped back slightly and nodded to one of the others. A moment later, cold water hit me again, stealing the air from my lungs as I gasped and shook violently.

The Cauldron. Cold. Dark. Falling. Hands dragging me under.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard, trying to remind myself I was not in the Cauldron, I was not drowning, I was not—

Pain exploded across my back as the whip struck.

I cried out despite myself, my body jerking against the chains.

"Maybe this will make him come faster," Dante said casually.

Another strike. And another. And another.

My vision blurred completely now, tears mixing with water and blood and I could barely see anything in front of me.

Then, suddenly something pulled in my chest. Not pain. Not exactly.

A tug. A sharp, sudden pull deep inside my chest, like a thread had just been yanked tight. I gasped slightly, my head lifting a little.

Dante noticed immediately. "What was that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I didn't know.

But the bond—I didn't have a word for it before, but now I knew suddenly felt alive. Awake. Close. Very close.

And then the door exploded inward. Not opened. Not kicked. Exploded.

Wood shattered across the floor, the entire door ripped off its hinges and slammed into the wall so hard the stone cracked.

Everyone in the room turned at once.

Azriel stood in the doorway. I had never seen him look like that before.

His wings were spread wide, his shadows swirling around him like living darkness, his hazel eyes cold and empty and furious in a way that made the entire room feel smaller.

He looked like death. No—worse than death.

He didn't say a word. He just moved.

The first male barely had time to draw his weapon before Azriel was in front of him. Truth-Teller flashed once and the male dropped before he even hit the ground. 

Azriel didn't pause, didn't breathe, didn't hesitate. He moved to the next one immediately, shadows pinning the male to the wall before the blade slid across his throat.

Everything happened so fast I could barely follow it.

Screaming. Steel. Shadows. Blood hitting stone.

Dante tried to run. He made it three steps before Azriel caught him, slamming him into the wall so hard the stone cracked again.

"You took what is mine," Azriel said quietly.

I had never heard his voice sound like that before. It was calm. Cold. Empty.

Terrifying.

Dante tried to say something, beg maybe but Azriel didn't let him finish. Truth-Teller slid into his chest slowly, deliberately, and Azriel leaned in slightly.

"You should have killed me instead," he said softly.

Then he pulled the blade out and Dante collapsed to the floor.

The room went silent except for my uneven breathing and the sound of water dripping onto stone.

Azriel stood there for a moment, looking around at the bodies, making sure they were all dead.

Then he turned to me. And the moment he looked at me, his entire expression changed.

The rage was still there, but now there was something else too, horror, guilt, fear, and something that looked a lot like pain.

He crossed the room in three quick steps and reached up immediately, breaking the chains at my wrists like they were nothing. I collapsed forward but he caught me before I could fall, his arms wrapping around me carefully, like I might break if he held me too tightly.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice completely different now. Softer. Shaking slightly. "I've got you. You're safe."

Safe. The word felt strange.

I rested weakly against his chest, too tired to hold myself up anymore, too tired to think, too tired to do anything but breathe.

"You came," I whispered.

"Of course I came," he said immediately, holding me tighter.

I shook my head weakly. "You came because you had to," I murmured.

He went completely still. I didn't look at his face. I didn't want to see pity there. I didn't want to see obligation. I just felt so tired.

"So you don't have to feel guilty anymore," I whispered softly.

And then everything went dark.

Azriel's POV - 

It felt like I could breathe again for the first time in over a week as I watched her sleep.

The room was quiet, lit only by soft evening light filtering through the curtains, and she lay in the large bed looking smaller than I had ever seen her. 

Bandages wrapped around her wrists, her shoulders, her ribs. Faint bruising still shadowed her face and collarbone, and every time I looked at those marks something dark and violent stirred in my chest again.

My mate.

The word still felt unreal, even though I had known the truth since the moment she stepped out of the Cauldron. 

Even though the bond had been a living thing in my chest ever since. Even though the last week without her had nearly driven me insane.

Madja had tended to her injuries and eventually forced me out of the room so she could work. 

Feyre had cried. Nesta had been silent in that terrifying way she had when she was furious. Elain had simply held her hand and whispered to her even while she was unconscious.

They had all hovered like ghosts, like guilty ghosts.

Then, eventually, Rhys had ushered them all out and told me to stay.

So now it was just me and her.

I sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows on my knees, hands clasped loosely, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest like it was the only thing keeping the world in motion.

"I'm sorry," I whispered quietly, even though she was asleep. "I should have told you. I should have protected you better. I should have followed you that day."

The bond in my chest was quiet now. Not gone, not empty just quiet. Like she was resting and the bond was resting with her.

After a long while, she stirred slightly.

Her breathing changed first, then her fingers moved slightly against the blanket. Slowly, her eyes opened, unfocused at first as she stared up at the ceiling like she didn't remember where she was.

Then her eyes shifted. They landed on me.

For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then she looked away. That hurt more than I expected it to.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but a small black blur launched onto the bed before I could speak.

Nova.

The cat meowed loudly, almost angrily, as she climbed onto her chest and started pawing at her carefully like she was scolding her for disappearing.

She looked down at Nova and for the first time since she woke, she smiled, small and tired and sad, but real.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she carefully lifted a hand to pet the cat. "I'm so sorry."

Nova meowed again and curled up against her immediately like she was making sure she wouldn't disappear again.

I stayed quiet, letting her have that moment. Letting Nova curl against her. Letting her stroke the black fur slowly like it grounded her back in the world.

My shadows moved slowly around me, calmer than they had been in days.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I spoke. "I came because it was you," I said quietly.

The words had been sitting in my chest since the moment I carried her out of that room.

Her hand stopped moving on Nova's fur. She looked up at me slowly.

"I know it was because of the bond," she said softly. "I may be new to all of this, but I know enough to know mating bonds make Fae males... intense. Protective. A little crazy."

"That's not why," I said immediately.

"Azriel," she said gently, like she was trying to make this easier for me, "it's okay. You don't have to pretend. We can figure it out. Maybe there's a way to—"

"No," I said, cutting her off more sharply than I intended. "You don't understand."

She went quiet then, watching me carefully. My heart was pounding now, harder than it had in any battle.

"I am in love with you," I said.

The words fell into the room and seemed to stay there, hanging between us.

Her eyes widened slightly but she didn't speak.

"I have been in love with you for a long time," I continued, my voice quieter now. "Long before you knew about the bond. Long before I told anyone. Long before I even admitted it to myself."

She was staring at me now like she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"I know everything about you," I continued slowly. "I know you prefer coffee to tea, but only if there's too much milk in it. I know you like sweet things more than savory but you always pretend you don't so Nesta won't tease you. I know you love puzzles and reading and sitting in the window when it rains. I know you hum when you cook even though you don't realise you're doing it."

She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just listened.

"I know you always feed Nova before you feed yourself. I know you leave the lights on in the hallway at night because you don't like the house being completely dark. I know you reread your favourite books over and over again. I know you bite the inside of your cheek when you're nervous. I know you think no one notices when you leave a room because you think no one would miss you anyway."

Her eyes filled with tears but she still didn't interrupt me.

"I stayed away from you because I thought you deserved better," I said quietly. "Someone kind and warm and whole. Not... me."

I looked down at my scarred hands resting together between my knees.

"I am not a good male," I continued. "I was raised in darkness. I was trained to hurt people. I have done things you will never know about and I will never tell you about. I am not gentle. I am not soft. I am not the kind of male you deserved to be trapped with for eternity because of a bond you didn't choose."

I looked back up at her then.

"I didn't want you to feel like you had to love me," I said. "I didn't want you to feel trapped. So I stayed away. I kept my distance. I tried to let you have a life that didn't revolve around me and my darkness."

My throat felt tight now.

"But I have always watched over you," I admitted quietly. "Always. Since the day we met. Since the day you were turned. I made sure you were safe. I made sure you were never alone when you went into the city. I made sure someone always knew where you were. I listened when you talked even when you thought no one was paying attention."

She was crying now, silent tears sliding down her temples into her hair.

"I didn't come for you because of the bond," I said softly. "I came for you because it was you. And I would have burned this entire world down to find you."

The room went completely silent after that.

She didn't speak. She didn't move. She just looked at me, her expression unreadable, her eyes full of something I couldn't understand.

The silence stretched.

I reached carefully for the bond then, just slightly, just enough to feel her through it. I expected fear. Confusion. Anger. Something.

But when I touched the bond, all I felt from her side was—hollow. Not empty. Not gone.

Just... hollow.

A/N - The rescue!! She really said "he only came because he had to" and then immediately passed out before letting him defend himself... to be fair, she's been THROUGH it, we'll allow it!!

Meanwhile Azriel is like "actually I've been in love with you for ages" and proceeds to emotionally unload EVERYTHING—fears, feelings, all of it, no holding back x

And she hears him. It's clicking. It's landing. But when he reaches through the bond... nothing clear comes back. Just that hollow, unreadable feeling. Make of that what you will... ;)

Thank you so much for reading <33

My wrists were shackled above my head, chains bolted into the ceiling. My feet barely touched the ground just the tips of my toes scraping the concrete, forcing my shoulders to take most of my weight. 

Every small movement sent pain shooting down my arms.

I was dressed only in my thin white shift, the fabric now completely soaked from the water and clinging uncomfortably to my skin. My hair hung in wet strands around my face, dripping onto the floor below me.

And then I saw him.

Dante stood a few feet in front of me, smiling like this was all some sort of game. His blue eyes looked different now—colder, sharper, crueller. 

The charming stranger from Velaris was gone. In his place stood someone else entirely.

Four other males stood around the room, leaning against walls or watching me like I was something they had caught in a trap.

"Good," Dante said, stepping closer. "You're awake."

He reached out and patted my cheek lightly, mockingly, like I was a child who had done something amusing.

I flinched away from his touch.

"Who are you?" I breathed, my voice hoarse and weak.

"Your worst nightmare," Dante said dramatically, then immediately laughed at his own joke, looking back at the others like he expected applause.

One of the other males snorted.

Another stepped forward slightly, his face harder, older, eyes filled with open hatred.

"We are soldiers," he said, "that your bastard of a High Lord discarded and destroyed."

I frowned slightly, trying to focus through the pain. 

"That... that has nothing to do with me," I said, pulling weakly at the chains around my wrists. The metal bit into my skin but didn't move.

"Doesn't matter," Dante said smoothly, beginning to circle me slowly. "We served the Hewn City for centuries. Did the jobs no one else wanted. Interrogations. Punishments. Keeping everyone in line."

He leaned closer to me. "We were very good at it."

Another one of the males sneered. "But then Rhysand decided he wanted to be a better ruler. Decided we were too cruel. Too brutal. Too unnecessary."

"So we were dismissed," another spat. "Stripped of rank. Stripped of power. Cast aside like we were nothing after centuries of service."

"You can blame your High Lord," Dante said, tilting his head slightly as he studied my face. "Everything that happens to you now is because of him."

My stomach dropped.

"You kidnapped me... because of Rhysand?" I whispered.

"Not just Rhysand," one of them said. "Rhysand and his High Lady. His precious court. His perfect little city."

Dante smiled slowly. "We can't beat Rhysand in war. No one is stupid enough to try that. But we can hurt him."

Cold fear slid down my spine.

"So," Dante continued, spreading his arms slightly like he was presenting something wonderful, "we take the sister of his mate. We make the High Lord and High Lady pay a very large ransom. Consider it reimbursement for our centuries of loyal service."

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"Why me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dante stopped in front of me again and looked directly into my eyes. "Because," he said simply, "you were the easiest."

The words hit harder than any slap.

"Feyre is High Lady," he continued, counting on his fingers. "Always surrounded by Rhysand, by power. Untouchable."

"Nesta is a Valkyrie," another one added. "And mated to the Lord of Bloodshed. Also surrounded by warriors at all times."

"Elain has the fox," another said with a small smirk. "The seer power. And she's rarely alone."

Dante shrugged slightly. "But you? You walk around Velaris alone. No guards. No title. No power anyone talks about. No one watching you closely."

He leaned in slightly closer. "You were the weakest link. The easiest target."

I stared at him, my chest rising and falling too fast now. Weakest. Easiest. Target.

I swallowed hard. "They're not going to pay," I said quietly.

Dante blinked. "Oh, I think they will."

I shook my head slowly, the chains rattling softly above me. "No. You don't understand. You picked the wrong sister."

He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I said, my voice shaking now but the words coming anyway, "Feyre is the important one. Nesta is powerful. Elain can see the future. They matter. They're loved. They're needed."

I laughed weakly, the sound hollow in the empty room.

"I'm just the extra sister," I said. "The one no one really notices. The one who doesn't have a title or power or a mate or anything important."

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"You kidnapped the wrong Archeron," I whispered. "No one is going to come for me."

For a moment, Dante just stared at me. Then he smiled slowly. "We'll see about that," he said.

One of the other males, the one leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, suddenly straightened slightly. His nose twitched like he smelled something strange, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.

"Do you smell that?" he asked, looking around the room.

Another one frowned. "Smell what?"

He pushed himself off the wall slowly and took a few steps closer, sniffing the air again, more deliberately this time. His eyes moved over the room, then landed on me. His gaze sharpened.

"Wait," he muttered. "No way."

"What?" Dante asked, slightly annoyed.

The male walked closer until he was standing directly in front of me, far too close, and inhaled slowly again like he was confirming something. 

He circled me once, like I was some kind of animal he was inspecting. Then he looked back at the others.

"She doesn't smell unmated."

The room went quiet for a second.

Dante blinked. "What?"

"She smells like him," the male said. "Like the Night Court spymaster."

My stomach dropped slightly. "I live in the same house as him," I said quickly. "That's probably why."

The male shook his head slowly. "No. Not just proximity." He tapped the side of his nose. "I was a tracker in the Hewn City. Interrogator too. They used me to find people who didn't want to be found. I can smell magic, lies, fear... bonds." 

He leaned in slightly again, inhaling near my shoulder. "This isn't living-in-the-same-house scent. This is soul-bond scent."

A slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, this is interesting."

Dante stepped closer now too, grabbing my chin roughly and turning my face slightly as if that would somehow help him smell whatever they were talking about.

I tried to pull away but the chains held me in place, metal biting into my wrists.

"This," the tracker said slowly, "is a mating bond."

I blinked at him. "What?"

The males all looked at each other. Then they started laughing. Not a small laugh. Not a chuckle. Full laughter like this was the funniest thing they had heard all day.

"You didn't know?" one of them said between laughs.

I frowned slightly, confused and suddenly uneasy. "Know what?"

Dante looked absolutely delighted now. "You're telling me," he said slowly, "that you are mated to the Shadowsinger... and you don't even know it?"

My heart started pounding. "That's not funny."

"Oh, it's very funny," one of them said.

"It means," another one added mockingly, "that the Cauldron decided you and the Shadowsinger belong to each other. Soulmates. Two halves of the same bond. Very romantic."

I stared at them, trying to process the words. "No," I said quietly. "No, that's not possible."

"Oh, it is," Dante said, tapping the side of his nose. "He can smell it. Especially strong ones."

Strong.

My mind immediately went to every time Azriel had avoided me. Every time he had left a room when I entered. Every time he spoke to me carefully, politely, distantly. Every time he looked at me like he wanted to say something but didn't.

He knew. He had known. And he never told me.

Of course he hadn't told me.

Why would he want me? The useless Archeron sister. The forgotten one. The one with no power, no title, no importance.

A broken sound escaped my throat before I could stop it, and I realised a second later that tears were sliding down my face.

I turned my head slightly, trying to hide it, but I couldn't wipe them away with my hands chained above me.

"Oh no," one of the males said in a mock-sympathetic voice. "She's crying."

"Did he reject you?" another asked with fake concern. "Is that why you didn't know? He didn't want you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, more tears slipping down my face.

It made sense now. Why he avoided me. Why he kept his distance. Why he never got too close. Why he was always kind but never warm.

He didn't want me. He was stuck with me. The Cauldron really had ruined his life too.

"Well," Dante said slowly, pacing in front of me again, "this changes things."

I opened my eyes again, my vision blurry. "How?" I whispered.

He smiled, but this time there was nothing charming about it. It was cruel. Sharp. Dangerous.

"Because," he said, "the Shadowsinger killed one of our brothers."

The room seemed to grow colder.

"And now," another one added slowly, "we have his mate."

Dante leaned closer to me, lowering his voice slightly like he was sharing a secret. "I think," he said, "we should make Azriel suffer the same way we did."

My heart dropped into my stomach.

"You were just a ransom before," he continued softly. "Just a way to get money and revenge on Rhysand."

He tilted his head slightly, studying my face, the tears, the fear.

"But now," he said, smiling again, "you are something much more valuable."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

"Now," Dante finished, "you are how we break the Shadowsinger."

Azriel's POV -

I could physically feel her pain.

It wasn't constant, not a steady ache I could learn to ignore. It came in waves. Sharp, sudden, unbearable waves that hit my chest so hard I sometimes had to stop what I was doing just to breathe through it.

Fear. Grief. Exhaustion. Pain. So much pain. 

The bond in my chest throbbed like a wound that would not close, like a thread being pulled too tight, like somewhere far away she was hurting and I could do nothing but feel echoes of it.

I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't think about anything else.

I had already dispatched every spy I had. Every contact, every informant, every shadow network I had built over centuries. 

My shadows themselves had spread across Velaris, across the Night Court, slipping through alleys and taverns and docks and abandoned buildings, searching for any trace of her.

Nothing.

It had been four days. Four whole days of nothing.

She couldn't be dead. I knew that much with absolute certainty. If she were dead, the bond would have fractured—I would have felt it like my soul being torn in half. I would have known.

She was alive but she was hurting. And I couldn't find her.

I sat in my office in the Townhouse, shoulders hunched forward, staring out the window without really seeing anything. 

Velaris moved below like it always did, others walking, laughing, living their lives and it felt wrong that the world kept moving when she was gone.

I should have told her.

The thought came again, like it had a thousand times in the last four days.

I should have told her about the bond. I should have told her she mattered. I should have told her she wasn't invisible to me. I should have told her I loved her.

Instead, the last thing I did was let her walk out of the house angry.

I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion pulling at every part of me. I hadn't slept more than an hour at a time since she disappeared. Every time I closed my eyes, the bond would twist again and I would wake immediately, heart racing, convinced she was dying somewhere.

A soft meow pulled my attention away from the window.

I looked down.

Nova stood at my feet, her green eyes looking up at me expectantly, like she thought I could fix this, like I could open the door and her owner would walk back in.

She had barely left my side since that night. She slept in my room now, sat on my desk while I worked, followed me through the house like a small silent shadow.

She missed her. I understood that feeling more than anyone.

I bent down slowly and scooped Nova into my arms. She immediately curled into my chest, purring softly but the sound wasn't her usual happy purr, it was quieter, almost worried.

"I miss her too," I whispered, running a hand gently down her back.

Nova looked up at me and meowed softly, like she was asking where she was.

"I'm trying to find her," I told the small black cat quietly. "I'm trying. I swear I am."

My voice sounded rough even to my own ears.

"I should have stopped her from leaving," I continued quietly, more to myself than to the cat. "I should have gone after her. I should have told her everything."

Nova pressed her head into my hand and I closed my eyes for a moment, resting my forehead lightly against the top of her head.

"I think she believes I didn't want her," I whispered. "I think she thinks I avoided her because I didn't care."

The bond in my chest twisted painfully again, so sharp I sucked in a breath.

"I was trying to protect her," I said quietly. "From me. From this life. From everything I am."

Nova purred softly, completely unaware that she was probably the only thing keeping me remotely sane at this point.

"I will find her," I whispered into the quiet office. "I don't care who took her. I don't care where they took her. I don't care how long it takes."

My shadows curled slowly around my shoulders, restless, angry, ready.

"I will find her," I repeated softly, my voice colder now. "And when I do... they will beg for death before I'm finished with them."

Three more days passed. Three more days of nothing.

Seven days since she disappeared. Seven days since I last saw her standing in the sitting room, angry and hurt and looking at me like I was something she couldn't quite understand. Seven days since I let her walk out that door without following.

Seven days of the bond twisting in my chest like a knife.

I stopped sleeping entirely somewhere around the fifth day. Not intentionally, my body simply refused to rest. 

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her again. Fear. Pain. Cold. Loneliness. It would jolt me awake immediately, heart racing, shadows already moving before I was even fully conscious.

I had searched everywhere. Velaris, the Illyrian camps, Hewn City, the borders, the human lands. My spies had turned over every tavern, every dock, every inn, every black market contact we had.

Nothing. It was like she had vanished from the world.

By the seventh night, I was standing in the training ring outside the house and I was no longer training.

I was destroying things.

A straw dummy stood in front of me and I drove Truth-Teller through its chest so hard the wooden post behind it cracked. I ripped the blade free and slashed again, and again, and again, until straw spilt everywhere like guts and the dummy hung in pieces.

I moved to the next one. Strike. Slice. Stab. Again. Again. Again.

I barely registered the sound of wings landing behind me.

"Az," Cassian's voice said carefully. "You're going to break something."

"I already did," I said without turning around, driving the knife into another dummy so hard the entire thing toppled over.

"Azriel," Rhys said, his voice quieter but sharper. "This isn't helping."

I turned then, slowly, breathing hard, shadows writhing around me like smoke in a storm. Cassian and Rhys stood at the edge of the ring, both watching me carefully like I was some kind of wild animal that might attack if they moved too fast.

"I don't remember asking for help," I said flatly.

Cassian crossed his arms. "You haven't slept in days."

"So what?" I replied.

Rhys stepped forward slightly. "We are looking for her. Every court, every contact, every spy network we have—"

"Not fast enough," I snapped.

Silence fell heavily between us.

"You think we don't care?" Cassian asked, his voice starting to edge toward anger now.

I laughed once, but there was no humour in it. "I think you don't understand."

Rhys's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then explain it to us."

I stared at both of them for a long moment, my chest tight, the bond aching, my hands still wrapped around the hilt of my dagger.

"How would you feel," I said slowly, my voice rough from disuse and exhaustion, "if it was Feyre?"

Rhys went completely still.

I looked at Cassian. "How would you feel if it was Nesta?"

Cassian's jaw tightened immediately.

"If they were gone for seven days," I continued, my voice getting quieter and more dangerous, "if you could feel their fear, their pain, their exhaustion, and you had no idea where they were or who had them or if they were being hurt—"

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight.

"How would you feel if the last thing you did was let them walk away from you angry?"

Neither of them said anything. They didn't need to. They understood now. Really understood.

The bond in my chest suddenly pulled hard, not pain this time, but something else. Something sharp and urgent and alive.

At the same moment, one of my shadows shot across the training ring and wrapped around my wrist, cold and insistent.

I froze.

The shadow curled up my arm and across my shoulder, then pressed against my ear, whispering in a voice only I could hear. I went completely still as it spoke.

Location found.

Every part of me went cold and sharp and focused all at once.

Rhys stepped forward immediately. "Azriel?"

I looked up at them slowly, my shadows already gathering, already moving, already preparing.

"I found her," I said quietly.

And then my wings spread wide behind me.

A/N - A little explanation for the abduction and a bond reveal that does not land well for her, she is NOT thriving with the information and who can blame her when her first conclusion is "oh great, I'm unwanted"—painful but very on-brand for her current situation :(

Azriel is doing what Azriel does best, absolutely not coping in any functional way. At least Nova is there acting as his tiny emotional support shadow with paws!

I know the ending is a cliffhanger, I'm aware it's mean but also I regret nothing because storytelling requires a little chaos and emotional damage xx

Thank you for reading <33

It started small. Sitting in the same room while I read, even if he was working. Asking if I wanted tea when he made his own. Eating dinner at the table instead of disappearing into his office. 

Sometimes we didn't speak at all, we just existed in the same space, the silence no longer uncomfortable.

And I hated that I knew why. The balcony. The nightmare. My stupid confession.

He was being kind now. Careful. Gentle. It made something warm bloom in my chest. And something sharp twist right beside it.

"Nova, come on, go fetch," I said, rolling the little ball of string across the floor toward her.

Nova watched it roll. Watched it stop. Then slowly blinked at me and lay her head back down on her paws, completely uninterested.

I stared at her. "You are the worst hunting animal in history."

She meowed lazily in response, which I was fairly certain meant she disagreed.

I was about to roll the string again when the front door opened, the familiar sound echoing softly through the house. 

A moment later, I felt it, that shift in the air that always happened when Azriel entered a room. Like the shadows themselves noticed him before anyone else did.

He stepped into the sitting room, nodding once in greeting when he saw me on the floor.

He didn't ask what I was doing. Didn't comment. Just walked further into the room and then looked down at Nova, who was still sprawled on the rug like she had never moved a day in her life.

Something close to a smile touched his mouth.

"Look what I found," he said quietly.

He held out a small toy, a little bat made of dark fabric with tiny wings that crinkled slightly when he moved it.

Nova's head snapped up immediately.

"Oh, traitor," I muttered as she stood and padded toward him, completely abandoning me.

Azriel crouched slightly, dragging the toy lightly across the floor, and Nova pounced on it instantly, batting it with her paws before chasing it as he pulled it away again. 

Within seconds she was running across the room after it, sliding slightly on the wooden floor and looking far more energetic than I had ever seen her.

Azriel glanced at me, and there was a quiet sort of pride in his expression. "I think she likes it."

I watched Nova chase the toy in circles, her tail puffed up with excitement, and despite myself, I felt a small smile tug at my mouth.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I said after a moment, my voice quieter now.

He looked over at me, still holding the toy while Nova attacked it. "Do what?"

Something in me bristled immediately at the question. Surely he knew. Surely he knew this wasn't normal, that he hadn't paid this much attention to me before, that he hadn't brought gifts for my cat before.

Surely he knew what this looked like.

"I don't want your pity," I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

He stilled slightly. "It's not pity. I was just—"

"Azriel," I interrupted, standing now, suddenly feeling too restless to sit on the floor anymore. "I am not some... some idiot who needs her hand held because I spilt one sad story one night."

His brows pulled together slightly. "That's not—that's not the case."

"Don't lie to me," I snapped, the anger rising faster than I could stop it.

Because it was easier to be angry than hurt. 

Easier to push than to hope. Easier to believe this was pity than to believe he actually wanted to spend time with me.

All the old feelings came rushing back at once, the feeling of being the extra sister, the unnecessary one, the one people were nice to because they didn't know what else to do with her.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me," I continued, my voice shaking slightly now despite my best efforts. "I don't need charity company and pity toys for my cat and quiet conversations because you feel bad for me."

His face changed then, not angry, not offended. Just... hurt.

"I don't feel sorry for you," he said quietly.

But I was already shaking my head, already stepping backwards toward the door.

"Yes, you do," I said. "And I don't want it."

Before he could respond again, before I could say something worse, I turned and walked out of the room, past him, past the toy Nova had abandoned on the floor, past the shadows that seemed to reach slightly toward me as I left.

I grabbed my coat and left the house entirely, the door closing harder than I meant it to behind me.

Nova somehow managed to slip out behind me.

I didn't notice at first. I was too busy walking quickly down the street, my mind still burning with anger and embarrassment and the image of the hurt look on Azriel's face. 

I should have stayed. I should have listened. I should have explained.

Instead, I ran. Like I always did.

It wasn't until I heard the soft, familiar "mrrp" behind me that I turned and saw a small black shape trotting determinedly after me, tail straight in the air like a banner.

I stopped walking. "Nova."

She stopped too, looking up at me like she had done absolutely nothing wrong.

"You were supposed to stay home," I said, softer now.

She meowed again, louder this time, and walked straight up to me before winding around my legs, nearly tangling my feet together.

"Go home," I whispered, crouching slightly to look at her. "Seriously. Go home."

She blinked at me. Then meowed again.

I sighed. "You're unbelievably stubborn."

She took that as permission to continue following me.

Velaris was bright that afternoon, the streets alive with music drifting from open windows, artists painting along the Sidra, couples walking hand in hand, children running past with pastries and sticky fingers. 

Normally, I loved the city. Normally, it felt like a dream, safe and beautiful and untouched by the horrors of the world beyond its borders.

Today, I just felt like I didn't belong in it.

Nova weaved between my legs again and I stumbled forward slightly, nearly losing my balance completely before a hand suddenly wrapped gently around my arm to steady me.

"Careful," a masculine voice said close beside me.

I looked up quickly.

The male standing next to me was tall, taller than most with striking blue eyes and dark hair that fell slightly into his face. 

He was handsome in an easy, effortless way, dressed well but not overly formal, and he was smiling at me like we were already in the middle of a pleasant conversation.

"Wouldn't want you tripping and hurting yourself," he continued lightly.

"Sorry," I said automatically, glancing down at Nova again as she sat beside my foot like she had done nothing wrong.

His gaze followed mine. "I take it this delightful creature is yours?"

Despite everything, I smiled slightly. "Yes. This is Nova."

"Well, Nova," he said, crouching slightly, "you nearly caused a tragedy."

He reached a hand toward her, slow and careful. Nova immediately hissed. A full, angry, teeth-bared hiss.

"Nova!" I scolded, embarrassed. "That was rude." 

She looked up at me like she disagreed completely.

"Go on," I said, pointing back down the street. "Go home." She meowed in protest. "Now," I insisted.

She flicked her tail, clearly offended, but after a moment she turned and began trotting back the way we had come, glancing over her shoulder once like she was making sure I was still there.

I watched until she disappeared into the crowd.

"Friendly," the male said dryly as he stood again.

"She usually is," I said. "She just doesn't like new people."

"Then I'm honoured she only hissed," he replied with a small smile, holding out his hand slightly. "I'm Dante."

I hesitated for half a second before telling him my name quietly. He repeated it back like it was something important, like he was making sure he remembered it properly.

"That's a beautiful name," he said.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded slightly.

"You look like you were in a hurry to get somewhere," he continued casually. "Or to get away from somewhere."

I let out a small breath that almost turned into a laugh. "Something like that."

"Well," he said, glancing toward a small café across the street, "when people are running from their problems, tea usually helps. Or at least it makes the running more comfortable."

I followed his gaze to the café. 

I should have said no. I should have gone home. I should have done a lot of things.

But I didn't want to go back yet. I didn't want to face Azriel yet. I didn't want to sit alone with my thoughts either.

"It's just tea," he added smoothly. "And I promise not to try to pet your terrifying cat again."

I huffed a small laugh despite myself. "She is terrifying."

"Then let me buy you tea as an apology for offending her."

I hesitated only a moment longer before nodding slightly. "Alright. Just tea."

He smiled like he had just won something.

We didn't go into the café, though. He said it was crowded and suggested a quieter place just around the corner, somewhere with a better view of the river.

We walked and talked a little, small things, nothing important. He was easy to talk to, asked questions but not too many, laughed at the right times, listened when I spoke. 

It was... nice. Too nice.

We turned down a quieter street, then another, and slowly I began to realise I didn't recognise where we were anymore. The sounds of the busy city faded behind us, replaced by quieter streets and taller buildings that blocked out more of the sun.

I slowed my steps slightly. "Where exactly is this place?" I asked.

"Just ahead," he said smoothly.

Something in my chest tightened.

We turned one more corner. And then I saw them. Three males stepped out from the alley ahead of us. Another behind.

I stopped walking. Dante stopped too but he didn't look surprised. He looked pleased.

The world seemed to tilt slightly as realisation crashed into me.

"You're Feyre Archeron's sister," one of the males said, looking me over like I was an object he had just purchased.

My heart started pounding. "You've made a mistake."

"No," another said. "We don't think we have."

I took a step back, but there was already someone behind me.

"They'll pay a lot to get you back," Dante said casually beside me, all kindness gone from his voice now. "High Lord especially."

"They won't," I said immediately, shaking my head, panic starting to claw up my throat. "You don't understand."

One of them grabbed my arm and I struggled, but he was stronger.

"They won't come for me," I said, the words spilling out faster now, desperate and breathless. "I don't matter to them. I'm not important. You picked the wrong sister."

They laughed.

I tried to pull free again but another hand grabbed my other arm, something sharp pressing against my neck.

"I don't matter," I repeated, my voice shaking now. "I don't matter to them. I don't matter to anyone. You won't get anything for me."

"Everyone matters to someone," Dante said coldly.

Something hit the back of my head then—hard. The world exploded into white light and pain.

The last thing I thought before everything went dark was that Nova was going to be waiting for me at home.

And I wasn't going to be there.

Azriel's POV - 

She didn't return that night.

At first, I told myself I was overreacting. That she had gone for a walk to clear her head after our argument. That she had stopped for dinner in Velaris. That she was with one of her sisters and had simply forgotten to come back to the Townhouse.

But as the hours passed and the house remained quiet, that feeling in my chest grew worse.

I knew in my soul, in my very bones, that something was wrong.

Nova returned just after sunset.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, untouched food in front of me, when I heard frantic scratching at the front door followed by loud, insistent meowing. 

Not her usual demanding-for-food meow—this was sharp, panicked, constant.

I opened the door immediately and Nova rushed inside, weaving around my legs, meowing loudly, then running a few steps away before turning back to look at me. 

Then she did it again. And again. Like she wanted me to follow her.

My chest tightened. "Where is she?" I asked quietly, crouching slightly.

Nova meowed again, louder this time.

And that was when the bond hit me.

Pain. Not physical pain, something deeper, sharper, like a thread inside my chest had been pulled too tight, like something on the other end of it was hurting and I could feel the echo of it through the bond.

My shadows stirred violently around me, sensing my panic before I even fully understood it myself.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

I didn't even bother grabbing a coat. I scooped Nova up against my chest, she immediately curled into me, still meowing and within minutes I was in the air, flying toward the River House.

I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just knew I needed the others.

I landed on the balcony harder than usual and walked straight inside without knocking. 

Rhys was in his office, Feyre beside him, and within minutes Cassian, Nesta, Elain, and Lucien had gathered as well after Rhys summoned them.

Nova stayed tucked against my chest, unusually quiet now, her claws lightly hooked into my shirt.

"Something's wrong," I said immediately, pacing slightly in front of Rhys's desk.

Rhys leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, Feyre standing beside him, her face already beginning to tighten with concern.

Cassian and Nesta sat on the couch, Lucien and Elain across from them, all of them now looking at me with varying levels of attention.

"She hasn't come home," I continued. "She left the house angry this afternoon and she never came back. She's usually back before dark. She always comes back before dark."

"Azriel—" Rhys started.

"And Nova went after her," I continued, my voice getting tighter. "Nova came back alone. She was panicking. And the bond—"

I stopped myself. Too late.

Rhys's eyes sharpened slightly at that word.

"Azriel, relax," Rhys said calmly. "She's in Velaris. It's the safest city in Prythian. She probably went to a bar or just needed time to cool off."

"Don't tell me to relax," I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

The room went quiet.

"I can feel something is wrong," I said, quieter now but more dangerous. "I know something is wrong."

Feyre frowned slightly. "We haven't seen her today."

Nesta shook her head. "Neither have we."

Elain looked uneasy now, her fingers twisting together slightly in her lap. Lucien was watching me carefully, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Rhys straightened slightly from where he leaned on the desk. "Azriel, you're acting like—"

"Like what?" I cut in sharply. "Like someone who thinks she might be in danger? Yes. That is exactly how I am acting."

Cassian leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "She's tough. She can handle herself."

I turned to look at him slowly. "She shouldn't have to."

Silence fell again.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing again, my wings shifting slightly behind me in agitation. The bond in my chest pulled again, sharp and painful and wrong.

"Do any of you even care?" I asked suddenly, the words coming out before I could stop them.

Everyone froze.

"She could be hurt," I continued, my voice rough now. "She could be scared or alone or—or bleeding somewhere and we're all just sitting here talking about how Velaris is safe."

"Azriel," Feyre said quietly.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You all have each other. You all have mates and courts and titles and armies and power. She has no one. And now she's missing and you're telling me to relax."

Rhys's expression changed then, his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me in a way I didn't like.

"You're talking as if," Rhys said slowly, "you're a male who lost his mate."

The room went completely still. I didn't say anything. I didn't move. I just stared at him.

And I watched the moment the realisation hit him.

It was subtle just a slight widening of his eyes, a slight straightening of his posture. Then Feyre looked at him, then at me. Then Nesta. Then Cassian. Then Elain. Then Lucien.

One by one, they all figured it out. I could see it on their faces, the shock first, then confusion, then guilt.

"So that's why," Cassian muttered quietly.

"That's why you live in the Townhouse," Nesta said softly.

"That's why you watch her," Elain whispered. Lucien just exhaled slowly, like something finally made sense.

Rhys looked at me for a long moment before speaking again. "How long?"

"Since the Cauldron," I said quietly.

More silence. More guilt settling over the room like a heavy fog.

Finally, Feyre spoke, her voice tight. "Then if you feel the bond... and it hurts..."

I nodded once.

Rhys pushed himself off the desk immediately. "Then something is wrong."

No one argued after that.

A/N - Things start off pretty tame and then very quickly spiral into chaos. We've got a small argument, a "harmless" stranger (LISTEN TO NOVA), and then a lovely little abduction to really ruin everyone's day x

Azriel is of course spiralling (standard behaviour at this point), Nova is the only one with any sense and Azriel eventually drags himself to the family for help which leads to the slightly dramatic but very important bond reveal :o

Anywayyy thanks for reading <33

Feyre had Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful High Lord in history. She was High Lady, Cursebreaker, Defender of Velaris, beloved by an entire court and feared by the rest of Prythian.

Nesta had Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, general of the Night Court armies. She was a Valkyrie, Lady Death, a force of nature wrapped in silver fire and unbreakable will.

Elain had Lucien, clever, patient, endlessly devoted. She was a Seer, a dreamer who saw things no one else could, the one who helped bring down a king.

Each of my sisters had a story written in legend, in power, in love.

And I was just... there. 

No titles. No great powers. No mate. No destiny anyone spoke of. Just the fourth Archeron sister that people sometimes forgot to mention.

Even the Cauldron, in all its terrible power, had not seen fit to give me anything. 

When I was thrown into that dark, endless water, I remember the cold most of all, cold that sank into my bones, into my heart, into places I did not know existed. 

I remember screaming, and no one hearing. I remember sinking, and thinking that perhaps this was all I would ever be, forgotten even by magic itself.

When I came out, everyone looked at my sisters in awe, in fear, in wonder. 

No one looked at me for long.

The Cauldron had given them gifts. Power. Sight. Flame and death and visions of the future.

It had given me nothing. Only nightmares. Cold water. And the quiet, unshakable feeling that I was meant to be nobody.

And perhaps the worst part was not that others believed it.

It was that, somewhere along the way, I had started to believe it too.

Tonight, the nightmare was worse than usual.

Cold water closed over my head, thick and endless, swallowing every sound, every breath, every scream. Hands, faceless, shapeless, dragged me down into the dark, pulling at my arms, my hair, my dress. 

My lungs burned, my chest heaved, but there was no air, no light, no surface to swim toward.

Only falling. Falling and falling and falling—

I woke with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed as if I had truly been drowning. The sheets were tangled around my legs, twisted like grasping hands, and my heart pounded so hard it hurt. 

Sweat clung to my skin, cold and uncomfortable, and for a moment I didn't know where I was, whether I was still in that black water or in my room in the Townhouse.

A loud, startled meow snapped me fully back into the room.

Nova. 

My black cat had been asleep beside me, curled into a warm little ball near my pillow, but now she stood with her back arched slightly, wide green eyes fixed on me as she meowed again, louder this time, as if scolding me for frightening her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse as I reached out to pet her.

Her fur was soft beneath my fingers, warm and real, and she immediately pushed her head into my hand, purring as if she could chase the nightmare away by sound alone.

I had found her months ago, not long after we were turned. She'd been small then, half-starved and hissing at anyone who came too close in a Velaris alley. 

I didn't know why she had let me pick her up, why she hadn't scratched or bitten me like she had everyone else.

But she had stayed and now, months later, she was still here.

She was the only thing in my life that had stayed.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor. Even after all this time, this new body still felt strange sometimes, too light, too strong, too sharp in ways I didn't understand. 

Like I was wearing someone else's skin and had not quite grown into it yet.

The room felt too small suddenly. Too quiet. Too full of memories I didn't want.

The balcony doors were slightly open, the night air slipping through the curtains as if it were calling me, and before I really decided to, I stood and walked toward them.

I pushed the doors open wider and stepped outside, sitting on the cool stone floor rather than one of the chairs. 

The night sky stretched above Velaris, endless and dark and filled with stars that looked like scattered diamonds. 

The Sidra glittered in the distance, reflecting moonlight in soft ripples.

Nova padded out after me a moment later, tail high, and settled beside me without hesitation, pressing against my leg as if she knew exactly why I had come out here.

I didn't realise I was crying until I lifted a hand to wipe at my face and felt the tears there. I wiped them away quickly, silently, like I had done a thousand times before.

And that was when I heard it.

A soft sound from above. Not loud. Not sudden. Just enough to let me know someone was there.

I froze for a moment, then slowly looked up. I already knew who it was.

He stood on the edge of the roof above the balcony, shadows curling and sliding around him like living things, his wings tucked behind him. 

He didn't move at first, didn't speak, just watched to make sure I had noticed him.

Azriel. Spymaster. Shadowsinger. The quiet male who shared the Townhouse with me but somehow always felt like a ghost moving through it.

I didn't mind living with him. He kept to himself, and I kept to myself. It made sense. It was easy. Silent.

Nesta and Cassian lived at the House of Wind. Feyre and Rhysand had the River House. Elain was often travelling with Lucien.

So I was left with the Townhouse. And its Shadowsinger.

Azriel pushed off the roof and descended slowly, wings spreading slightly before he landed silently on the balcony. 

I expected him to nod politely and leave, to pretend he had seen nothing, heard nothing.

Instead, he walked over and sat beside me on the stone floor, close enough that I could hear the quiet rustle of his wings as he tucked them in tighter.

"Another nightmare?" he asked quietly.

His voice was gentle, careful, as if loud words might break something fragile between us.

His shadows moved around him, slipping over the balcony railing, curling near his shoulders, sliding across the floor like curious cats. 

They fascinated me and frightened me all at once.

I didn't answer. I just stared straight ahead at the city lights.

He didn't push immediately. Just sat there beside me in silence. After a moment, he sighed softly. 

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.

 I shook my head slowly, my hand moving over Nova's fur a little more insistently, grounding myself in the steady rhythm of her purring.

"It wouldn't matter anyway," I said quietly.

He turned his head slightly toward me. "Why not?"

There was no judgment in his voice. Only genuine curiosity.

I swallowed, my eyes still fixed on the city, on anything that wasn't him.

"Because I am no one," I said, the words slipping out easier than they should have. As if they had been waiting for years to be spoken aloud. 

"Feyre is High Lady. Nesta is a Valkyrie. Elain is a Seer." I let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh. 

"I am the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot."

The words hung in the air between us. Azriel didn't respond right away.

I finally turned my head slightly and saw the look on his face, he wasn't pitying me, wasn't dismissing me. 

He just looked... stunned. As if the idea had never occurred to him before.

I gave him a small, sad smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes.

Then I stood, brushing off my nightgown slightly. Nova immediately stood as well, stretching before following at my heels like a tiny black shadow.

"Goodnight, Azriel," I said softly, and stepped back into my room.

He didn't stop me.

I climbed back into bed, Nova circling twice before curling against my side again, her purring starting almost immediately. 

I stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the quiet of the Townhouse, to the distant sounds of Velaris, to my own breathing slowly evening out.

I didn't know when I fell asleep again. I only knew that when I did, there were no dreams. 

Just quiet, empty darkness. And for once, that felt like peace.

Azriel's POV - 

I watched her leave.

That was all I did. I sat there on the cold balcony floor and watched her walk back inside, Nova at her heels, the doors closing softly behind them. The curtains shifted slightly in the night breeze, then went still, as if she had never been there at all.

She returned to her bed, the same bed she woke in every single night from nightmares I could not begin to imagine.

Guilt settled into my chest like a stone.

I should have said something. I should have told her she was wrong. I should have told her she was not invisible, not forgotten, not ruined.

But I hadn't because I was a coward.

There was no softer word for it, no way to dress it up into something noble. I had faced kings and monsters, torture and war, had spilt blood and broken bones and flown into battles I knew I might not survive.

But I could not tell one female that she mattered. Coward.

She was not no one. Not to me.

From the moment I first saw her at the Archeron estate in the Mortal Lands, I had noticed her. 

While the others spoke and argued and negotiated, she had stood slightly behind her sisters, quiet, observant, watching everything with eyes that missed nothing. 

She had spoken the least, yet when she did, everyone had listened without realising why.

She had always been there, just slightly to the side, just out of the centre of the room. I think I was the only one who ever noticed she was standing alone.

And then the Cauldron happened.

The memory still made my hands curl into fists.

I had tried to reach her when they dragged her forward. I had tried to get to all of them but when they shoved her toward the Cauldron, something in my chest had snapped into place with terrifying certainty.

I remember the sound of her screaming. I remember the splash. I remember trying to move, to fly, to do anything—

But my wings had been shredded, hanging uselessly, my body barely able to move, my power drained from the poison in my veins.

I had watched her sink beneath that black water and had done nothing. Nothing.

And when she emerged from the Cauldron, dripping and shaking and changed forever, I felt it.

The bond. 

It slammed into me so hard I nearly blacked out from it, a golden thread wrapping around my ribs, pulling tight, settling deep into my chest like it had always belonged there.

My mate.

She had looked around the room, terrified and confused and alone and I had known in that moment that the Cauldron had not forgotten her.

It had given her to me. And I had never said a word... because she deserved better.

She deserved someone bright and warm and whole. Someone who laughed easily and did not wake in the night remembering screams.

Someone who did not have blood on his hands that would never wash away. Someone who was not made of shadows and secrets and the worst parts of war.

Not a broken male. Not a monster trained to be a weapon. Not me. So I watched from a distance.

I watched her in the Townhouse when she thought no one was awake. 

I watched her reading by the window, watched her fall asleep on the couch with Nova curled on her chest, watched her stare out over Velaris like she was trying to figure out where she fit in a world that had no place carved out for her.

My shadows watched her too. 

They would drift back to me at night and whisper soft reports, the sound of her breathing, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, whether she was sleeping peacefully or twisting in nightmares again.

That night, after the balcony, I lay in bed listening to my shadows tell me when her breathing finally evened out into deep, dreamless sleep.

Only then did I close my eyes.

The sun had barely risen when I woke. I didn't need much sleep anymore. 

Years of training, years of war, my body had learned to function on very little but that morning I had not slept much anyway.

Her words kept replaying in my head.

I am the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot.

I knew her routine. She woke early, almost always with the sun. She liked quiet mornings when Velaris was still half-asleep, when the world wasn't loud yet.

By the time I walked into the kitchen, the scent of coffee and fresh bread filled the air.

She was already there, standing at the counter stirring her coffee slowly, staring into the cup like the answer to some question might be hidden inside it.

Nova sat on one of the chairs, tail wrapped neatly around her paws, green eyes immediately locking onto me the moment I entered the room.

We never had breakfast together intentionally but we often ended up sharing the kitchen in the mornings. 

Quiet. Polite. Two individuals who lived in the same house but in different worlds.

Nova reached a small paw toward me as I walked past, tapping lightly at my hand like she expected me to stop.

I exhaled softly and reached down, running a hand over her black fur. She immediately began purring, loud and pleased with herself.

She turned slightly at the sound, glancing at us over her shoulder before looking back down at her bowl of fruit and yoghurt. 

She didn't say good morning. She rarely did. But she didn't leave either.

That was something.

I stood there for a moment, petting Nova absentmindedly, trying to figure out how to say what I had not said the night before. How to fix something that had clearly been broken in her for a very long time.

I cleared my throat quietly. "You aren't ruined," I said softly.

The words felt too small the moment they left my mouth.

She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at me, her eyes wide and unblinking, like she wasn't sure she had heard me correctly.

I gave Nova one last gentle scratch under the chin, then straightened and grabbed an apple from the counter, suddenly unsure what to do with the weight of her gaze on me.

"You aren't forgotten either," I added quietly, not looking directly at her now. "Some just... don't see everything that's in front of them."

I could feel her still staring at me, but I didn't trust myself to look back. 

Not when the bond in my chest was pulling so tightly it almost hurt. Not when I wanted to cross the room and pull her into my arms and tell her she was the most important person in my world.

So I turned and walked toward the door, my shadows trailing behind me like smoke.

I paused at the doorway, then said without turning around, "You are not no one."

Then I left the kitchen before she could see the truth written all over my face.

A/N - First part and we start by getting a deeper look into everything she's been carrying and how she truly feels about it all!!

We also get a little insight from Azriel's POV and let's just say there's an interesting piece of information revealed there x

This part was mainly setting the stage for what's to come—introducing the emotions, the tension, and the dynamic at play. The real story kicks off properly in the next part, and things pick up quickly from here... no more slow build-up, we're diving straight in ;)

Thank you so much for reading <33

One year, seven months, seventeen days and six hours had passed since the mating bond had snapped into place. 

One year, seven months, ten days and zero hours had passed since the day she walked into his life. Since the last time he had ever touched you.

They were the most agonising nine months of your life, and yet you bloomed through the pain so gracefully because you’d rather he was happy and free than unhappy and yours. You loved him, without a doubt. And there was a time when you thought he loved you too. 

But here you sit, in Feyre’s vanity room with a flute of sparkling wine and a throbbing headache as the girls all fawned over Elain in her dazzling gown. She looked beautiful and radiant, the absolute picture of Fae grace, as she should do on her wedding day.

You were happy for her. You truly were. She was kind and caring to the core. She wasn’t ruthless and reckless like you. He deserved somebody to steady him, to make a home for him, a warm one that he never thought he deserved until her; not rile him up and be an everlasting stressor in the back of his mind.

You swayed back and forth on the canapé, taking in how the stark snow white of her gown very subtly faded into a cobalt blue right at the very bottom, like a brush of cornflowers pooled at her feet.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you hated yourself for it.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, Elain.” You swallowed hard, yet gave her the most genuine smile you could muster.

She turned to you, and alarm quickly overtook her beautiful features. “Oh, don’t cry.” She pattered over to you and sat next to you on the canapé, much to Mor’s annoyance who wasn’t finished applying her makeup. Elain draped her arm along your shoulders and rested her head on yours. “Don’t cry, lovely. Your time will come too.” She giggled genuinely.

Oh, how far she had fallen from the real reason for your tears. But you were happy to let her think the way she did. That your tears were as shallow as they seemed.  

“I’m not sure it will.” You sniffed, but gave her arm a squeeze. “Go back to your makeup chair, before Mor guts us both.”

She beamed at you, showing off her perfect teeth beneath those blush lips. Lips that would touch him in all the ways you couldn’t. In all the ways that you had dreamed you yourself would cherish and worship your mate for the rest of your days.

Amren left the gaggle of females around the makeup chair, and walked gracefully towards you. Only her and Rhys had ever scented the truth, and you supposed it was somewhat comforting to have one person know the true reason for your tears. Even if it was Amren.

She placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed hard, yet reassuringly, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“It will be okay, girl.” She murmured quietly.

You smiled sadly up at her. “I’m not so sure.”

She stared down at you, stone faced. “There’s no other option.”

You nodded to humour her, despite how aware you had become of all your other options that did indeed exist. Your head was filled with poison, and you were sure no alternative would be enough to drain it out.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts. “It’s me.” Rhysand’s smooth voice slid through the gaps in the doorframe. “Am I allowed in? Are you females all decent?”

“Come in!” Elain called out, after they had all giggled at his choice of words.

The door creaked open, and in walked Rhysand, in a midnight blue suit that made his violet eyes sparkle. He walked over to Feyre, pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and then turned to Elain.

“My, my!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You are quite the sight.” He took her hand and twirled her around.

He looked overjoyed for Elain, despite his initial aversion to their pairing. But that was before Lucien had left Prythian for good, satisfied with the life he’d built with his so-called Band of Exiles. Rhys shortly came around after that, mainly thanks to his own mate’s persuasion to ironically ‘let nature run its course’, and her ideology that what’s meant to be will be.

You had almost laughed out loud at her reasoning. Nature had quite literally told you what was meant to be, but that didn’t seem to matter to either party.

No, not to Azriel. And certainly not to Elain with Lucien. So all you could do was sit there and drain glass after glass of wine and wallow in self-pity, watching a beautiful girl get her gown tailored and makeup done for her wedding to the male whose invisible thread was bound to the depths of your very soul. 

Not that he seemed to care, not with the way he looked at you with such disdain. Looked at you like your very existence tainted the air that his precious Elain breathed; like you yourself were just vermin he wished to be exterminated.

Gone was the male who kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without you. The male you’d shared your mind, body and soul with. Gone were the hushed whispers and stolen kisses after midnight and the reverent touches in places you’d never even reached yourself. For a short while, you were his religion. But in this case, his faith had long dissipated.

No, that male was long gone. But there was an extraordinary phenomenon that took place, that even he couldn’t explain. 

Azriel was always adamant that he controlled his shadows; and that they didn’t control him. But when he had tried to send them to spy on you, not out of concern for you but to ensure you didn’t harm Elain in the early stages of their courtship, they flat out refused. 

Like the shadows still knew you, despite what had become of yours and his’ relationship. His shadows would not conduct any surveillance on you, much to his discontent. And this was the first time anyone had seen anything like it.

A few quiet sobs from Feyre broke you out of your poisonous train of thought, and you glanced up in alarm until you realised she was just emotional for her sister. 

Something withered inside you. Wilted and broke down and died. Nobody would ever shed such emotion for you. Nobody would ever prepare you for your wedding and cry for you and cheer for you and stand by you as you began the rest of your life, no.

Your heart still belonged to him. And it always will.

After chatting with Elain, Rhysand marched in your direction, taking a seat next to you. 

“Unclench your jaw.” He spoke softly. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Does it matter?” You barely acknowledged him, staring straight into space.

He took the wine glass out of your hand, and placed it on a side table. 

“You look like you need air.” He whispered. You just shrugged in response.

He raised his voice slightly, before he said. “I think you should go fetch us some more wine, just to be on the safe side. Can’t let Mor run out before she’s done working her magic.” Rhysand winked at Mor, and then winked subtly at you.

You squeezed his hand gratefully, before hurrying out of his and Feyre’s bedroom door before anyone could say or ask you anything. 

Clutching your chest, you practically sprinted in your heels down the hallway until you reached the little terrace balcony opposite the stairs to the main hall in the River House. You shoved open the lattice doors, and immediately gasped for air.

You couldn’t slow your breathing. You swallowed lungful after lungful of air, clawing at your throat and yet nothing was making the tightness, the constriction subside. You braced your hands on the stone balcony fencing, leaning over it and trying to slow your hyperventilating.

Your mate was getting married. Your mate was getting married and not to you. The male who held you like you were his biggest blessing and tasted you like you were his favourite sin, was about to wed another female. He saw what he wanted, saw how her sisters’ lives had panned out and decided he was entitled to complete the pattern; three sisters for three brothers. 

Your heart thundered against your ribcage, but finally, your breathing began to slow. Your hair had no doubt been ruined from leaning over the balcony and it blowing freely in the wind, but you didn’t care. You raked your fingers through it and let it tumble down.

Suddenly, you froze as you heard the terrace door behind you creak open.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His scent was ingrained in every fibre of your being, written into your biology like he was part of you. No, you’d recognise it for eternity.

You held your breath, bracing yourself for the door to slam once he realised who was outside, but no such sound came.

“Are you alright?” Azriel spoke quietly.

Your knees practically buckled in shock as you turned around, glancing at him over your shoulder. “What?”

“How are you doing?” He stared at you with an unreadable expression.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat not subsiding. “Since when do you care?” You whispered hoarsely.

“It’s polite to check on a female in distress.” Was all he said.

“Right. I forgot how polite you are.” You turned back around to face the Sidra to conceal the sneer that escaped you.

“I’m trying to be better.” He explained. “For Elain. She makes me better. Less volatile.” 

“That’s fantastic.” You clenched your jaw and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Are you being sarcastic?” He asked in disbelief, as if it was ludicrous for you to feel disdain towards him after everything. Of course you were angry, even if your heart still cried for his.

“I’m not trying to.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“Don’t make this hard for me.” He whispered, and you whipped back around in shock.

“What?” You scoffed in disbelief, pointing at yourself. “Me?”

But there was something unfamiliar in his eyes. Something that resembled remorse.

“Yes, you.” He stood his ground.

You laughed humourlessly. “You have some fucking nerve, Azriel.” 

His expression immediately turned sour. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“You had the choice to do the right thing over a year ago.” You seethed. “Don’t come here and play the victim because you want to clear your conscience .”

“I’m not here to clear my conscience.” He thundered, taking a step closer.

“What are you here for, then?” You huffed a shrill laugh. “Enlighten me.”You blinked hard, as the wind quickened and blew some strands of hair into your face. 

“You can’t take anything seriously, can you?” He shook his head. “And you wonder why I chose her.”

His words slapped you harder than any palm ever had and would. Even he looked slightly taken aback at his own monologue.

Yet where tears would have usually fallen, all you could feel was the anger thrumming in your veins thanks to the copious amounts of wine that bubbled under the surface and finally reached your system.

“I’m happy for you Azriel.” You stepped closer, so much so that your chests were almost flush. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. “Truly. I hope you live happily ever after and have a plethora of children and she bakes and gardens for you for the rest of your days.”

He misunderstood your tone entirely, and rage bloomed on his face. 

“Perhaps the simple life is what I desired all this time, but you only ever cared about yourself to see that.” Azriel crossed his arms.

You looked him up and down. “You can lie to me all you want, but please don’t lie to yourself.” You said quietly. “You never liked simple.” You glanced down once more. “Are you satisfied, Azriel?” you hummed, stepping closer.

You knew that even if he tried to deny it, thanks to the bond his skin would always burn and his blood would always pump harder in close proximity with you.

“Do not ask me such questions.” He seemed like he was almost squirming.

“Does she touch you better than I did?” Your voice sounded gravelly.

No response came from him, so you simply laughed. “I suppose the baking makes up for that, then.”

He grabbed you by the throat, spinning you both and pushing you hard against the lattice doors. Before you moved away, flashbacks of being in similar positions with him ambushed your mind. 

Movements that were usually accompanied by whispers and strokes and grasping at each other desperately like you couldn’t breathe had somehow turned into being accompanied by rage and rebuttal and loathing.

“You speak of baking and gardening like it is sin.” His fingers flexed around your throat, and his jaw clenched hard. “I’m rather satisfied that my betrothed takes on such homely tasks, instead of slaughtering and torturing in dungeons and on battlefields for a living and then drinking and soliciting men in her free time.”

He held up his scarred hand for you to see, his speech clearly not over. “I would rather feel this again than to ever be touched by you again. You disgust me.”

This time, hot tears did burn your eyes as you felt your heart crumple from within. Your traitorous, fitful heart. 

You struggled to take a deep breath with the hand around your throat, but you tried. “I was by your side on every one of those battlefields.” You rasped softly.

His eyes widened and he loosened his grip slightly, before he suddenly became aware and his face became apathetic again. His grip remained loose, though. 

He let go, and pushed off the wall and away from you. “If it were down to me, you wouldn’t even be in the wedding. But Elain wants you there. She’s kinder than we’ll ever be.”

You rubbed your throat gently, grateful to be able to take deep breaths again. He pulled the handle on the lattice doors, clearly deeming it time to end the conversation. 

“Congratulations, Azriel.” You said softly, before the door fully closed. And you thought for a moment that you saw him hesitate. Saw him pause in his tracks. But the door closed anyway, and he was gone. 

You slid down against the doors and the tears came in full swing. You hugged your knees to your chest as rumbling, sorrowful sobs escaped your throat. The clouds began to darken slightly, as though rain was pending. But at least it was still warm, despite the winds.

You cried for at least twenty minutes, until you wiped your nose and pushed your hair out of your face, and decided it was time to face the music. 

But first, you went in pursuit of that wine Rhysand had ‘sent’ you for.

-

Third seat, second row. 

That was where you sat amongst the rest of the attendees, all in agonising anticipation of the event to come and to see the bride in her gown, for not everybody had shared the privilege you had of getting ready in the High Lady’s chambers with the bride herself. 

Harp strings twinged, and fiddles groaned as the music slowly came to life, and you knew Elain would be walking towards the altar any moment now. The altar you refused to look at, for he was stood there. Tall, proud, and devastatingly beautiful. Elated and anxious and excited to begin this chapter; to start the beginning of the rest of his life.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You glanced up at him once. 

And once was enough to notice him staring straight at you with an unreadable expression. 

You slowly shook your head, as fury and frustration began to simmer under the surface of your skin once more. What in the Cauldron’s name was he playing at?

You clenched your fists and sank your teeth into your lip to try and send pain to your brain before the tears started. A tactic that never usually failed you. But this time it was no use. Both your lip and your eyes stung, and you looked up again to see him finally look away.

Commotion rustled behind you, and you turned around. And there she was. 

Elain. Beautiful, radiant, and a devastating bride in her custom gown. Taking such slow, graceful steps  that you could barely see her ballet pumps under the cobalt hem of her white dress. The blue that perfectly matched the siphons that glinted on the male waiting at the end of the aisle.

Rhysand walked beside her, her arm tucked in his as they strolled towards the altar with Feyre and Nesta in tow, both holding beautiful bouquets just like Elain, comprised of white lilies and blue cornflowers, then embraced by twined sprigs of rosemary and thyme from Elain’s garden as a finishing touch.

You hated how much of a bitter taste it left in your mouth. You hated yourself, mostly. Both for feeling this way, and for whatever you had been or done to not be good enough for him to choose his mate. The one the mother had chosen for him. The one he was not supposed to live without, and yet you weren’t good enough. Gods, you loathed yourself. You picked up the nearly empty bottle from where it was hidden under your seat behind your dress, and poured yourself a new glass. Not wine, but whiskey this time.

It’s ironic how the burn of the whiskey soothes you, rather than disgusts you. Soothes your scorned heart and tortured soul; you can’t burn something that has already gone up in flames.

A voice smooth like silk slid into your mind. “Steady on the drinks.” 

You looked up towards the front of the aisle, where Rhysand’s head was ever so slightly turned in your direction. He narrowed his eyes so that you’d get the message.

You always listened to him. He was your voice of reason. 

Not today. Not anymore. Today you were a woman scorned, and you didn’t care to conceal how much you felt like acting like one. You raised the whiskey to your lips and drained almost all the contents, before dropping the glass on the floor where its fall was cushioned by the tulle near the hem of your dress. It was pink. You fucking hated pink.

A smile crept onto your face as the amber stain began to spread across the pooled material of your dress on the floor.

“What are you doing.” Rhys tried again. This time, you put your shields up and shut him out entirely. You watched his eyes widen as him and Elain reached the altar. 

Dealing with him would be a problem for another day. Right now, you didn’t want to feel, and the liquor was helping you achieve just that.

Elain finally reached the altar, and took her place opposite Azriel. You couldn’t bear to look as he reached forwards and took one of her hands away from the bouquet, before lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

Your stomach lurched. He had worshipped you like that once. Felt so deeply for you that nature bound you together. And it still wasn’t enough for him.

You felt a genuine ache spread through your chest, and the nausea rose up your throat as they began to read their vows.

The priestess glanced at all the attendees in the pews, and called out; “Does any male or female in this court object to this union?”

Rhysand glanced at you. 

Amren glanced at you.

You almost scoffed at them both, but didn’t wish to draw attention.

But then Azriel looked at you. One long, empty look and you could have sworn you watched the rise and fall of an extremely heavy breath on his chest. 

And your stomach turned again. You closed your eyes and counted down the minutes until everyone filtered out of the temple towards the festival hall. Once you were sure it was less conspicuous, you launched out of your seat and darted down the aisle to the nearest bathing chamber. You could have sworn somebody called after you, but you didn’t have time to turn back.

The moment you opened the chamber door, you hurtled your body over the toilet and violently deposited the entire contents of your system, your throat burning as the whiskey made its way back up. You heaved over and over again, your respiratory tract on fire and your chest like somebody had stuck a knife into it. You couldn’t fucking breathe.

Several minutes that felt like hours later, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rose, taking one look at yourself in the mirror.

What stared back almost made you laugh hysterically. Mascara streaked down your cheeks, your lipstick smudged and the space under your eyes was so hollow it looked purple.

“Of course he doesn’t want me.” You cackled to your own reflection, holding up the bottle of whiskey you managed to remember. “By the cauldron, who would?”

You wiped your lipstick onto the sleeve of your dress, squealing in delight as you ruined the pink material more and more as the day progressed. 

Finally emerging from the bathroom, you threw back the rest of the whiskey and set it down on a nearby maid’s tray, before taking the two flutes of sparkling wine that had sat upon the tray.

One in each hand, you sauntered into the Great Hall, where tables were laid out with elaborate foods and wines and elixirs and petals and gorgeous smelling candles. The cobalt blue theme decorated the entire hall, and you all but sneered at the accents. 

Your eyes narrowed in on the central table, where Elain and Azriel sat, gazing into each other’s eyes with what could only be described as absolute contentment and joy. Rhysand and Feyre sat to their left on the circular table, followed by the rest of the inner circle. You drained your first flute, and set it down.

Rhysand missed nothing. His eyes flicked up, and his expression soon became horrified as he took in your drink and your ruined dress. Feyre then looked up, and you struggled to hold her stare as devastation was written all over her face. She no doubt knew now, too.

You ripped your gaze away, tipped your head back, and poured one flute of sparkling wine right down your throat, ignoring the burn of the bubbles.

And then he saw you. And the love and content that was directed at Elain was replaced with pure ire. Disgust. Fury.

You expected him to simply sit there and scowl, but he banged a fist on the table, and stood straight up. Guests all around the room whipped around and stared in confusion as the groom stalked through the room like an apex predator, nothing but bloodlust on his expression.

Azriel grabbed your wrist. Hard. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” He thundered. 

You tipped your glass towards him. “I’m enjoying the party!” 

A drop spilled, landing on his leather shoe. 

“Oops!” You whispered, covering your mouth.

“Get out.” He said calmly. Too calm.

You pouted up at him, even though your chest burned. It burned with regret, humiliation, any and every form of self loathing that existed. And it burned with the bond, still alive and roaring not to be ignored.

“Get the fuck out.” He repeated. “And don’t show your face around Elain or I again. You’re no longer welcome in our lives.”

You stared at him, as the world suddenly fell silent. The flute slipped from your hand, smashing on the floor. Gasps echoed around the room, the quartet ceased their string work, and you looked behind Azriel. At Elain’s panicked face. 

She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve for you to ruin this for her. 

“I’m sorry, Elain.” You whispered, and you knew she couldn’t hear it. But the expression on her face after you inclined your head told you she understood.

You backed away, sparing Azriel one last glance. It must have been your inebriation, because you could have sworn that the rage on his face faltered for a split second as you slowly stumbled backwards.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated. But no one could hear you, as the strings resumed, the cutlery touched plates and drinks clinked. Everyone had moved on. 

Everyone except you.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured towards the floor, as you slipped through the grand doors.

You slipped off your heels and ran down the stone hallway as a burning pressure began to attack your throat and close it up. Tears stung your eyes and you ran fast, faster, willing your legs to keep up with your mind until you crashed into the double doors leading out into the garden.

You heaved for air, and when you felt your lungs had finally refilled you let out the most harrowing scream you could muster. It registered, it hit you that this was all real. You had lost your mate. Forever. 

Your love wasn’t enough. It never would be. You were broken, torn apart and scarred by life but so was he. Yet although he was enough to make you feel complete again, for him you would never be the cure.

You stared at the garden that Elain had so lovingly cultivated. You were sure their happy, half Illyrian children would run through these bushes one day. And you wouldn’t be around to see it, and it was nobody’s fault other than your own. 

A few hushed whispers sounded like they came from the hushed rustling behind you, but you assumed it was the alcohol. You were hearing things.

Until they got slightly louder, and you were able to make out a few words.

Big event.

Night Court.

Opportunity.

Final chance.

Before you even had a chance to turn around and inspect it for yourself, you scented it before you felt it. The ash arrow, that ricocheted straight through your gut.

AZRIEL 

He had been gazing lovingly at Elain as she chatted happily with her sisters when he felt it. 

His stomach lurched, and an excruciatingly sharp pain struck him in the chest. He doubled over, clutching his chest tightly as he felt a metallic liquid run up his throat and coat his tongue. Blood. His blood. But why?

Rhysand and Elain both whipped around in horror as they had scented his blood first. 

Azriel spluttered as he tried to explain that he had no idea what was going on, but no sound came out as he choked and coughed. The rest of the inner circle began to turn around, and an unfamiliar expression suddenly dawned on Rhys’s face.

“Azriel.” Rhysand’s voice like smooth, calming silk entered his mind. Azriel simply nodded to him to indicate that he had heard as he tried his best not to heave.

“Azriel,” He repeated. “Search inside yourself for the bond.” Rhysand’s forehead suddenly seemed to be slick with sweat.

Azriel blinked at Rhysand in confusion, before his gaze flickered to Elain, and then back to Rhysand. And then his eyes widened, as it dawned on him. As the realisation hit him, what was running through Rhys’s mind. 

Azriel searched. He tugged. Something faint glimmered, but it had dulled tenfold. It had been a long time since he had acknowledged that it was even there, but it still glowed stronger than this recently.

“What’s going on?” Elain murmured, glancing between the two males. “Are you speaking into his mind?”

Azriel couldn’t respond as his chest pain grew with every second, his stomach doing somersaults as he covered his mouth to keep from retching. Elain put a hand on his arm to comfort him as he tried not to vomit. He clutches his chest hard, standing up and doubling over.

“It’s fading.” He choked, out loud this time.

Rhys closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, but Elain and Feyre only looked more bewildered. Nesta and Cassian had returned from their dance hurriedly to check on Azriel as he struggled to keep himself out.

“What’s fading?” Elain screamed, not out of annoyance but out of sheer panic and worry for her new husband. 

“Follow it. Follow what’s left of it, NOW, Azriel.” Rhys panted, wiping his forehead.

Azriel used whatever strength he dug up from within him to ignore the pain and sprint towards the double doors. He tried to follow his heart, but all he felt was the hollowness he’d always believed resided in its place. So he followed scent instead.

The dull ache in his chest became one, sharp sensation worse than anything he had ever felt. And then it was gone. And a flicker of relief washed over him.

Until he saw them. Two Autumn Court sentries, darting through the doors to the courtyard and garden. 

“Hey.” Azriel shouted, walking towards them with Rhys in tow. “HEY.” He screamed.

Rhys made a swift gesture with his hand, and both of the sentries paused as if time had stopped as the High Lord and his friends caught up to them. 

But once they’d made it through the garden doors, Azriel stopped in his tracks.

Azriel froze in shock as he beheld you. Once blushed and bright skin, now sunken and pale. Your expression was permanently fixed into one of despair and…longing. As if you had wished you hadn’t gone through this alone. Your long, lovely hair caked in blood as one arrow was nestled in your neck, and the other in your chest. 

The sound that ripped out of Azriel’s throat was one his friends had never heard, and hoped to never hear again as he fell to his knees and pulled your torso towards him.

He’d known how to scent death on a Fae since before he could walk or fly in the Illyrian camps, and yet he still didn’t accept it as he flattened his palms on your chest and pushed, willing your heart to start again.

“Please.” He whispered.

“Azriel.” Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder. 

But the Shadowsinger shoved his hand off and grabbed your jaw, making you face him. 

“Wake up.” He spoke through gritted teeth, pushing your hair back from your face.

“She’s gone, Azriel.” Rhysand shouted, his tone sterner this time. “You didn’t want her, and now this removes the complication of the mating bond. Isn’t this what you wanted, anyway?” He scoffed.

“Mating bond?” Elain and Feyre said softly in unison from where they had finally caught up. 

Azriel looked over his shoulder at his new wife as tears stung his eyes. 

What had he done? 

He looked back at you. Dead. You were dead.

Rhysand straightened, and turned towards the Archeron sisters. 

“They were mates.” He swallowed hard, and gasps resounded from the small crowd that had began to gather following the commotion. 

An unwelcome figure walked up from behind the Inner Circle, and stared down at your body with shock and anger.

“I told him not to do anything.” Eris Vanserra shook his head as his voice cracked. “He said a Night Court wedding this level of prestigious would be too good of an opportunity to pass up to send you a message.” He covered his mouth as he turned to Azriel. “I’m so sorry.”

Behind him, Elain had began crying. But the sound didn’t disarm Azriel as it usually did. 

“This was Beron?” Rhys thundered.

“I believe so.” Eris muttered. “I rushed here as quick as I could. But I was too late.”

“What have I done?” Azriel whispered. 

“Get the fuck out.” He repeated. “And don’t show your face around Elain or I again. You’re no longer welcome in our lives.”

He had well and truly spoken those words into existence, and he shook his head as he stared at your lifeless body. He pulled your head onto his lap and stroked your hair silently, rocking back and forth as he whispered his apology to you over and over again. 

His mate had died. He could have prevented it. He could have done literally anything differently, and the outcome would have been better than this.

He looked up at the sky, and let out the most bloodcurdling scream to have been heard in all of Prythian, as he searched for the bond within his chest, finding no light and no familiar hum. Just emptiness.

You were truly gone.