Skylar

This will probably be the shortest part, besides possibly the epilogue. There is a possibility that what is now part 5 will be split, but I'm not sure yet (the reveal will happen in the next chapter no matter what, don't you worry).

Word Count: 4.5K ish

Warnings: Reader has chronic pain (I'm trying to keep it accurate, but just in case: any medical inaccuracies are due to the fact that Reader is fae and not human and should be attributed to the biological differences between the two species), semi-unreliable narrators, feeling insecure, more angst, talk of pregnancies and complications during pregnancies (see previous note about medical inaccuracies, but with more fae and magic nonsense), past child abandonment, Rhysand means well

Part 3 | Part 5

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Azriel's wing coils gently behind you, its warmth seeping through the back of the couch, soothing some of your aching muscles. The shadows curl lazily about the room, humming contentedly. A soft smile pulls at your lips, eyes lethargically following their swirling movements. Azriel's arm drapes around you, his touch light, leaning into you as much as you are him. He insisted on taking you to his apartment after you reunited in the garden, keeping you close as you and the parents-to-be arranged a time for their appointment in a few days.

The two of you barely said a word when you arrived; Azriel discarding his leathers before sitting next to you on the couch, the shadows depositing warm mugs of tea in your hands. Your fingers flex gently around the mug, the contents seemingly charmed to remain the perfect temperature. Azriel takes a long, slow sip, eyes never leaving you.

The soft cushions relieve some of the stress on your spine, muscles still throbbing after spasming earlier. During the kiss. Just the thought has your smile growing and warmth rushing up your neck. You have only been kissed a handful of times, but they weren't… like that. A spark of warmth filling every part of you, the need to feel him more important than breathing, all your pain momentarily forgotten. It was the first time the bond flared so brightly since it snapped, the only time it brought a gentle warmth and love and acceptance and no pain.

Azriel nuzzles your hair softly, you can feel his smile against your scalp. "What are you thinking about that has you blushing so prettily?" he hums.

You turn to him slightly, flush deepening. "Just you," you admit in a whisper.

Azriel's smile broadens. "Oh, yeah?" he murmurs, amusement dripping from his voice. "What about me?"

Ducking, you hide your face in his shoulder. "The garden," you whisper.

He hums, pecking the crown of your head. "I meant every word."

You still, his words breathed into your skin hours ago echoing in your mind.

You are everything. So perfect.

I love you so much. My beloved.

I'm yours.

Your pulse climbs into your throat and you draw your hands in until you can feel the warmth of your tea on your stomach, almost enough to disguise the void opening there. You could feel the sincerity in his words, his earnestness flowed through the bond. You want so desperately to believe them, and you had for a brief, perfect moment.

Then your lower spine spasmed and reality flooded back. You aren't perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. He only calls you such things because you keep a part of yourself from him, a part that dictates your entire life. Such sweet nothings will die on his lips the moment he learns, as they have for everyone else in your life.

"Hey," Azriel murmurs, tenderly guiding your face out of his shirt. He studies you with a quiet intensity. "Where did you go?"

You try to force a smile, but it's shaky. "Nowhere," you try. Azriel hums, unconvinced, eyes not leaving yours. You take a deep breath, gaze sliding to a shadow curling serenely on his shoulder. "I- I didn't mean to ruin everything with your family," you breathe.

His brows cinch, eyes flickering between yours. "Oh, my love," he whispers, voice soft and thick. Shaking his head, he leans in slowly until his forehead rests on yours. "You didn't ruin anything," he vows, the words gentle but heavy.

"But… the Hight Lord–" you start.

"Was wrong," he finishes gently, running his thumb across your cheek. "He never should've spoken to you that way. He knew those questions were inappropriate and asked anyway. If anyone ruined anything, it was him, not you."

You purse your lips, taking a shaky breath. The High Lord may have asked the questions, but only in response to you, your job, your trip to the Dawn Court. It was still your fault in that way, but you knew Azriel would never see it that way.

Your eyes drop to his chest. "I'm sorry about this morning," you breathe, shifting to try to relieve the ache from your twisting spine.

"Y/N," he whispers reverently, his voice catching. His other hand cups your jaw, his tea disappearing into the shadows. "That was not your fault. None of this is your fault." Gently, he tilts your head up, ducking to catch your eyes.

"But, if… if I wasn't there it wouldn't have happened. She never would have been kicked out," you insist quakily.

Taking a deep breath, Azriel closes his eyes. Your pulse thunders, hot tears burning behind her eyes. It really shouldn't surprise you; despite his flowery language, he can't deny that. Still, the jagged bond writhes in your chest, the hollowness in your stomach growing.

"Y/N," he says softly, his eyes opening, lined with silver tears. "My kind, sweet, beautiful, selfless Y/N." He smiles shakily as your face heats. He forces himself to take another deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. "Your presence may have been a catalyst, but her actions, her words, are hers and hers alone. It is her responsibility to bear, my beloved. Not yours. Never yours."

Your breath picks up, faster and shallower than before. Azriel's fingers tense against your cheeks, his jaw ticking as he studies your face. Stiffly, you force yourself to nod once, just to put him at ease. It works, his hands and shoulders relax a fraction, a sigh escaping him.

"It looked like you wanted to kill her," you breathe, voice steadier than you felt.

Azriel tenses again, eyes widening as they flicker across your face. You know of his job, of course, heard the stories that circulate about the… less savory aspects. Today was the first time seeing him fight, watching as the kind, gentle shadowsinger morphed into the deadly Spymaster. You thought it would scare you, distantly you were aware it should scare you, but it hadn't. Fear had been coursing through your veins, but Azriel was never the cause. Rather, it had fascinated you in a way you don't think it should; it made somewhere deep inside of you feel… safe.

You keep your face neutral, waiting patiently. It was a part of himself he hasn't shared with you and you aren't going to force him. You know all too well what it must feel like, to keep something secret for fear of rejection. But it was different, you reason; he has a family who has stuck by his side, while you… The only constant you have is Madja and you suspect she only tolerates you because you pay for her tonics.

"I… I considered it," Azriel admits in a tight breath.

Your lips pull upward in a small, shaky smile, his eyes track the movement, brows furrowing. Slowly, you lean in, watching him closely, your lips pressing softly onto his cheek when he doesn't pull away. His body shudders, wings twitching from the slots carved in the couch.

You pull back a fraction, smile steadying, his head turning slightly, your eyes meeting his hazel ones again. Mentally, you map every line, ridge, diamond, and fleck, noting the hundreds of colors that appear to glow in the sunlight.

Hesitantly, you lean in again, gaze flickering to his lips. His fingers tense against your cheeks, a soft breath escapes him as his lips twitch upwards. For a moment, your lips just brush each other, both your breaths already quickening in the shared air. The touch sent a painful shiver up your spine that you ignore. The shadows dance excitedly, urging you both closer. Time seems to slow, your very being gravitating to him, the bond clawing in your chest, begging for your mate's touch.

Drifting forward, your lips slot perfectly in his. You both sigh in relief, lips languidly beginning to move as one. The shadows take your tea and your hands immediately come to lightly grip his shirt, pulling his body flush to yours. The bond roars in triumph, heat pouring into your stomach and somewhere lower, demanding more. Carefully, you pull back before the need fully overtakes you, the bond screaming in protest.

Leaning your forehead against his, you both smile, cheeks flush. "I'll be honest," Azriel pants, a hand tucking a small lock of your hair back, "that's not how I thought you would react."

Your brows furrow, smile dimming slightly. "It wasn't too much, was it?" you ask quickly, trying to pull away.

Azriel's grip keeps you in place, shaking his head as your mouth opens again. "It was perfect," he breathes, pressing forward until his lips meet yours again for a brief moment. "You are perfect."

You relax into him, eyes fluttering closed, limbs heavy, even as your mind spirals, fighting against his words. Once he finds out about your condition, about the bond, this… fantasy he made of you will crash and he will leave. You're sure of it. Everyone has before him. Why should he stoop so low as to accept you? You who are weak, uneducated, poor, who has spent the past 24 hours ruining different parts of his life. How he was not embarrassed by you already, you don't know. It was only a matter of time, you concluded the night you met him in Madja's clinic, before he left you for someone better, as is his right.

"I wish I got to meet your family," Azriel murmurs, breaking your thoughts.

Your eyes snap open, pulling back sharply, wincing at the shooting pain up your spine. "W-what?" you breathe.

Azriel's brows furrow, his hands dropping. You had told him that you grew up at the Silver Oaks Orphanage when he asked about your family in the past. The words had stuttered out, face flushed with shame. Az had simply taken your hands, gently explaining how the Lady Nyssa had all but adopted both him and the General. He had never pushed or asked for an explanation.

His soft smile remains, a hand gently reaching up to grasp your wrist, thumb running tender circles along your pulse point. "Your parents, my love," he tries again. "I wish I could meet the fae who blessed me with you."

Heat flares up your neck and cheeks, you shift away, the shadows stilling around the room. You don't remember much about your parents, but you remember their voices, the disappointment, the disbelief, the yelling. They still echo through your dreams, along with your begging; begging them to believe you, that you weren't trying to get out of work. Mostly, you remember their silence, their disbelief in Madja's diagnoses. Then they were gone, leaving you with the old healer, refusing to take you back.

You still see them every once in a while, your parents and siblings, selling their crops in the market. You're always careful to stay away from their stall.

A tear burns a path down your cheek, you pull your hands away from him, furiously wiping your face. Azriel's smile fades. "If- if you truly want to, then we can- I mean, you are- if they–" you stammer, breaths coming too fast, too shallow, before you stop yourself.

They don't want you, never have, why would that change now? And if they told Azriel why they left you behind, he would just follow suit. Your breath shudders, the bond roiling at the thought.

"Hey, hey," Azriel chides gently, taking your hands in his, guiding them away from your face. "Breathe, my love," he commands softly. Shadows press in around you, whispering against your skin, a light grounding weight on the back of your neck. They pulse against you, slow and steady, miming a deep breath.

You do your best to copy, focusing on their steady weight against you, on the light brush of Azriel's thumb on the back of your hand. It takes several moments, but your breathing does start to even, although your heart continues to pound against your ribs. "That's it, beloved. That's it," he encourages. "What were you trying to say?"

Lips trembling, you force a steady breath, eyes focusing on where his hands hold yours. "It's just…" you push past the lump in your throat. "They own a farm, maybe two hours from the city. It- if you t-truly want to meet…" you trail off as his hands tense around yours.

His brows cinch, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "They're still alive?" He asks, voice almost a growl. Flinching slightly, you nod. "And… you were raised at Silver Oaks?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, but it remains low.

Slowly, you nod, breath shuddering again. "They- I–" you stammer. "I was six when… when they…" you couldn't get the words out, eyes closing as more tears fall, missing how Azriel's eyes darken.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, voice cracking.

Slowly, he gathers you into his arms, drawing you to his chest. Placing a tender kiss on your hair, he holds you as you attempt to keep your breathing even. "I was too much," you admit thickly through your tears. Azriel goes still beneath you, but you keep your eyes closed, basking in his warmth, his wing curling around you. "I couldn't help on the farm, so I wasn’t worth keeping," you repeat, the threat constantly thrown your way until they made good on that promise.

Azriel's breathing picks up slightly, but he stays eerily still beneath you. You take another breath, the shadows nudging you encouragingly. Exhaustion pulls on the edges of your mind, dampening the walls you normally keep around the memories. "I- I was no use to them," you heard yourself saying, "not after Madja–"

A loud knock echoes through the apartment. Your words die as you stiffen in Azriel's hold, eyes snapping open. The shadows still around you, their indistinct voice shifting from soft whispers to a harsh hiss. Azriel tenses beneath you, blinking the silver from his eyes, gaze hardening at the door.

You are both silent for a long moment, barely breathing before the knock sounds again. "Az," the High Lord's voice is dampened through the wood, low and hoarse, almost tired, "it's me."

You scramble in Azriel's hold, sitting up as much as you can, ignoring the rippling pain along your spine. Azriel's arms remain firm, not caging you, but keeping you close. Your heart thunders, eyes flickering wildly across the room. Instinctively, you grip tightly onto Azriel, pressing back into him. Your breath comes fast and shallow, a few hot tears burning your cheeks. The shadows flock to you even as their swirling ceases.

Azriel pulls you back into his chest. You don't resist, nearly collapsing back into him. Your body trembles in his hold, the High Lord's accusations from the night before echoing in your head. Rubbing a hand along your arm, Azriel gently shushes you, his shadows running along your body. "It's okay, my love," he hushes, voice barely a breath. "If he doesn't hear us, he might just leave." Azriel tries to add some levity to his voice, but it remains tense.

Your gaze slides to him, blinking rapidly. "Does that normally work?" you whisper, breathing shakily.

"Az, I know you're in there," the High Lord sighs, his voice echoing through the quiet apartment. "Please, can we talk?"

Azriel lets out a long, controlled breath. "Worth a shot," he mumbles. You try to laugh, it coming out a huff through your tight chest.

Slowly, carefully, Azriel shifts to settle you on the couch next to him. Grabbing your hands in one of his, he gently tilts your head until you're looking him in the eyes. "Listen to me, my love," he whispers, his gaze searching yours. "You don't owe him anything. You don't have to talk to him or even see him if you don't want to." You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to nod. A muscle feathers in his jaw. He leans in, pressing a long, gentle kiss to your cheek. "I'll deal with him," he says, voice low as he pulls away.

Slowly, Azriel stands, stalking towards the door.  The shadows surround you tightly, whispering against your skin. Your hands shake, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you force your breath to remain calm. You stand, mostly unaware of the action, turning towards the door, drawing the shawl around you tightly.

The door swings open silently, and you have to take a step to the side to see around Azriel. The High Lord stood in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes, a hand running through his hair. Azriel studies him, keeping his wings drawn tight. Rhysand lets out a relieved breath, smiling weakly at his brother. "I wasn't sure you were going to answer," he admits softly.

"I almost didn't," Azriel retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rhysand nods slowly, licking his lips. "I…" he starts, sighing softly. "I want to apologize."

You watch in silence, hugging yourself in the shadows' embrace as Azriel scoffs. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"I know," Rhysand says, pursing his lips. "But, showing up at her place unannounced didn't seem like the best course of action," he chuckles breathlessly.

Azriel growls, taking a step towards his High Lord. Rhysand's voice fades and he tenses, squaring his shoulders, almost like he's preparing for an attack. "And you thought showing up here unannounced was better?"

The High Lord flinches slightly. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have… fuck," he breathes, running his hand through his hair again. "Can I please just speak with her? To apologize and explain."

Your breathing is still heavy and your pulse echoes in your ears, even as the shadows attempt to guide you towards the couch again. "What is there to explain, Rhys?" Azriel snarls, hands clenching at his sides. "You made your opinion very clear last night."

Rhysand lets out a heavy breath, nodding slowly. "I–"

"She doesn't want to see you," Azriel continues, cutting him off. Your grip on your shawl tightens.

"But–"

"No," Azriel barks, wings extending slightly, blocking your view of the male he considers a brother. "She does not want to see you. You don't get to argue your way out of that, Rhysand. If you have something you want to say to her, then tell me and I can pass it along."

You take a step back, your calves hitting the low coffee table behind you. The shadows rush to stabilize you, the soft thud echoing through the apartment. Azriel stills, head whipping towards you, his hard expression softening slightly, his wings extending further, almost hitting the walls. A hand flies to your mouth as if that will soften the sound, neck and cheeks heating, your back protesting the shock. Gently, the shadows guide you away from the table, but you can't bring yourself to sit despite their prompting, so you stand next to the couch, eyes fixed on the rug beneath you that doesn't look like it's from the Night Court; Summer Court maybe, or Day.

"She's here," Rhys breathes, somewhere between a statement and a question. Azriel's gaze returns to him, a low growl rumbling through his chest.

You can hear the High Lord shifting on the other side of Azriel as your mate squares his shoulders. "Just say what you came here to say, Rhysand," he demands, forcing his wings to fold just enough to provide you a sliver to see the High Lord.

Rhysand tracks the movement, eyes finding you almost immediately, a long, careful breath escaping him. "Look, I… I am sorry. Truly. I jumped to a conclusion and refused to be swayed when it turned out to be wrong. I never should have spoken to you like that, never should have… interrogated in such a way, never… well, there are quite a few things I should have done differently," he admits, just loud enough for you to hear. Your grip tightens around your shawl, the other hand coming down to wrap around your middle, eyes stinging.

"It's just…" he continues, voice bordering on desperate, "you have to understand. I've known Az since we were children. He's my brother in all but blood. In many ways, I know him better than I know myself. And I know that when he loves, he does so with his whole self, willing to put everything on the line for those he cares for," Rhysand pauses, taking another breath, eyes flickering to Azriel. "And there… there have been times when that has been used against him, against the Court." Your eyes jump to Azriel, his back still turned to you, wings almost fully tucked in, but his shoulders tense.

Pursing his lips, Rhysand looks back to you, your wide eyes meeting his for a brief moment before they drop again. "I will always do what I need to, to protect my family and my Court. So, when I recognized you as the one who had the private meeting with Theason, I wrongfully assumed the past was repeating. I pushed because I thought I could catch you in what I assumed to be a lie. And when one of the first things you answered was something we were explicitly told by our healer not to do, I thought I had."

Rhysand's eyes close for a moment, his lips pursed. Your breath picks up slightly, a few tears falling. "But then, you went into your reasonings and… either you were a really good liar, or you were telling the truth and Feyre, my mate, suffered from something with such a simple solution because we…. because I refused to look in the right places. I needed you to be lying just to prove that we didn't miss anything, that we did all we could, that what happened to Feyre was inevitable, and the only thing I could point to was your meeting with Thesan."

The High Lord chuckles drily, running a hand over his face. "Of course you can't tell us specifics of what you spoke about with him. I know how confidentiality works, and I used that against you. I am deeply sorry."

Quiet breaths shake your frame. Azriel turns slowly, watching you with a carefully neutral expression, hands still clenched at his sides. You don't even hear him move, just feel the shadows split apart before his arms wrap around you. You lean into his chest, letting his scent engulf you as you try to control your breathing, keeping your gaze fixed on the rug.

"I am not saying any of this to excuse my words," Rhysand continues. "What I did was inexcusable, but I did just want to give you a bit more context so, hopefully, you can understand where I was coming from. What happened last night, what I did and said, had nothing to do with you and should never have happened. I don't think there are words to express how sorry I am."

Your breath shudders in your chest, Azriel's arm tightening slightly around your waist, and you force yourself to nod, unable to find words. Your head hurts, dry tear tracks mar your face, your thoughts moving like molasses. The muscles in your back rage, begging you to lie down, even Azriel's support only offering slight relief, and all you can focus on is how much you want this to be over.

Rhysand takes another deep breath, nodding stiffly. "You should go," Azriel says, the gentle rumble soothing your frayed nerves.

"Yeah, of course," Rhysand agrees. His eyes find you once more. "We are having a birthday dinner for Az next week. You are welcome to come, Y/N. Only if you want, we understand if not." He gives you a sheepish smile before turning to leave. The shadows make quick work of closing the door behind him.

Your body falls into Azriel, knees buckling beneath you. Azriel doesn't flinch, gingerly guiding you back to the couch and gathering you into his lap. Your muscles ease slightly, but are still tense in his hold. Azriel sits too still beneath you; his only movements are his careful breaths and a hand rubbing soft circles along your upper back.

Everything around you feels distant and out of focus. The feel of your mate's body and his scent are the only things that feel real. Distantly, you are aware of what emotions you should be feeling: disbelief, anger, guilt, and shame, but it all feels so far away. Azriel's voice cuts through the fog gently. "I'm sorry," he breathes into your hair. "I've got you, my love."

The shadows trace gentle patterns up your arms and around your neck, and you melt further into the haze, taking comfort in the nothingness. Somewhere out there you feel the shadows guide Azriel's hands to better support your strained back, although even the pain in your back feels distant; it wasn't often that you are able to remove yourself so fully, so you embrace the opportunity.

Exhaustion pulls on your mind as you nestle further into your mate's chest. The High Lord's voice echoes through your mind, most of it disjointed and muffled, but one part breaks through. "Someone hurt you?" you ask, tongue heavy in your mouth, your words barely a breath.

For a moment, you don't think Azriel hears you. He doesn't react, tracing soft circles along your back and arms. Azriel stiffens slightly after a few seconds, the meaning of your words dawning on him, his hands hesitating for a brief moment before continuing on their paths. "Out of everything Rhys said, that is your first question?" he asks teasingly, but his voice is strained. Your grip on him tightens and Azriel lets out a long, slow breath. "It was a long time ago, my love," he admits softly, his arms tightening around you.

Carefully, you turn your head to look up at him, the odd angle angering your already inflamed muscles. "Where are they now?" you demand in a whisper.

Azriel looks down at you, wetting his lips, eyes softening. "Gone."

"Gone?" you repeat.

Studying you carefully, Azriel nods slowly. "Dead," he amends, voice clipped, adjusting his hold on you but not letting go. "She's dead."

Something odd settles in your chest at his words: relief and satisfaction and something almost protective. Nodding stiffly, you settle your head back on his chest, eyes fluttering closed. "Good."

————

Fun fact: the original plan was to have Rhys appear unannounced at her door. But then I thought about it and realized Az wouldn't leave her alone after the dinner and the training, so… here we are. The conversation had to be reworked with Az, but it gets us where we need to go in the end.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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You had long since lost count of time, with nothing but darkness surrounding you and no hope for any light to work its way into this godforsaken pit, days were passing by without your knowledge. It had been years at this point, how many, you didn’t know but long enough for the world outside to be a distant echo and for your presence to have faded into a pitiful whisper.

Years passed by with only the reminders of your old life to keep you company; you often dreamed of those times your brother carved out time in his day to braid your hair or when you would both jump out of the windows late at night to fly over Velaris together. You’d dream of your mother, how she’d let you sit and ‘help’ her make dresses or that time you were so outraged when you were learning how to fly and she pushed you straight from the balcony of the House of Wind so that you had no choice but to fly.

Your days were filled with flashes of them all; your mother, Rhysand, Mor and Cassian.

You wondered how much of life had moved on without you.

Was Rhysand High Lord yet?

If he was, how had your father died?

Had Rhysand found his mate?

Had he made her High Lady like you both always spoke about?

In those extra difficult times that your control slipped even further, those memories of the Shadowsinger would linger the harshest.

You did not like thinking of how much his life had moved on without you.

Rhysand and Feyre stood together in the kitchen of the townhouse, looking through the window into the garden where Elain was tending to the flower garden and Azriel was sprawled out nearby, sunning his wings.

“Do you think the Cauldron can make mistakes with mates?” Feyre asked him, a look of confused anguish on her face.

Rhysand looked towards his mate, surprise dancing in his eyes at her question. “Nobody truly knows what makes the cauldron put two people together. They’re not always perfectly compatible, my own parents were examples of that, they never truly loved each other. Others, like us, are lucky to find love with their mate.”

Feyre continued looking out into the garden. “Why couldn’t the cauldron have made Azriel, Elain’s mate, instead of Lucien. Lucien is good but they look good together,” Feyre pointed out to where the Shadowsinger was still sprawled on the grass.

A pulse of pain pulled through their bond causing Feyre to snap her eyes back to Rhys. She was surprised to see the pain in his eyes, it wasn’t just any pain. It was the sort of pain that lingered and dwelled, a grief that would forever remain no matter how much time passed but there was also a subtle protectiveness in his eyes that could almost be missed.

Feyre was confused.

Rhysand swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “Do not mistake Azriel’s kindness towards your sister as affection. He is spending time with her because I ordered him too, to try and understand her powers. You’re reading into something that isn’t there.” His voice was stern but not unkind.

Feyre’s brows furrowed at his words. “It would be an honour for Azriel to find his mate, with anyone.”

“Azriel does not want a mate, Feyre.” The sheer confidence in Rhysand’s words only confused her even more.

“But why would he not want a mate? I thought everyone dreams of having one.” She questioned, looking out at Azriel’s figure in the garden.

She thought Azriel of all people would want a mate.

“Azriel has already had his great love,” Rhysand said. “No mating bond could ever live up to that for him. There are loves that even the cauldron cannot compete with.”

“What?” Feyre asked, shock taking over her face. “Who?”

That pain appeared in Rhys’ eyes again, a quick flash but it was there. “I meant it when I said I have no secrets to keep from you but not all stories are solely mine to tell. I am not going to tell you Azriel’s secrets.”

Feyre nodded silently. She understood, it didn’t diminish her curiosity but she would not pry for answers that weren’t hers to have.

Azriel’s footsteps were silent as always, shadows licking at his heals and fingertips as he walked towards Rhys’ office.

Not bothering to knock, his gloved hand unlatched the handle as he stepped inside. “You called, brother?”

Rhys was sat back in his chair, unsurprisingly dressed in his formals but the conflicted look on his face ruffled his demeanour. “I’d like to preface by saying you haven’t done anything wrong, my mate simply is too nosey for her own good and sees things she hopes are there rather than reality at times.”

Azriel’s face remained at an impasse other than the slight narrowing of his golden, hazel eyes.

Rhysand sighed. “Feyre is under the impression that you and Elain may make for a better match than her and Lucien.”

The control Azriel had on himself immediately slipped as he stepped back, eyes widening in shock, fists clenching by his sides as his shadows fluttered around him. “No. Rhys, I would never-”

“I know” Rhys interrupted. “I am not accusing you of doing anything, Az. I just thought it best to let you know.”

Azriel shifted uncomfortably at his words. “You know there is no one else, there never has been and there will never be anyone else.” He insisted, wanting his brother to believe him.

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “I know. I have never doubted that even though it would be okay if eventually-”

“No!” Azriel’s cut him off, “There will never be another.”

“Okay,” Rhys conceded. “I just wanted to let you know, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded his head, not hesitating in taking his exit, leaving Rhys there in a suffocating silence of loss.

“You’re distracted,” Cassian dropped his stance, looking towards Feyre intently.

His High Lady sighed in frustration, leaning back against the ropes of the sparring ring.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

Feyre pursed her lips in contemplation before relenting. “Did you three actually used do things in the same room as each other?”

Cassian barked out a deep laugh at her question. “That’s what’s on your mind?”

Feyre shrugged sheepishly.

Cassian shook his head, a large smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, Rhys and I did. It would be a bit weird and incredibly uncomfortable for us all if Azriel did.”

Feyre tilted her head curiously, “Why?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be very nice for Rhys to see his best friend having his way with the girl he loves more than anything, would it?” He said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, Azriel has way too much respect for him to do that anyways.”

Feyre’s eyes widened in shock but there was also a sickening feeling of jealously bubbling in her stomach. “So, Azriel and Rhys loved the same girl?”

Cassian, way too focused now on stretching to acknowledge how his words had been interpreted. “We all love her but those two always have and always will love her most. She’s their number one girl.”

Number one girl.

Feyre did not like the sound of that at all. She hated it and she hated herself even more because of the jealously that gnawed at her. “They didn’t hate each other for that?” She questioned.

Cassian shook his head, mid lunge. “Azriel had no reason to hate Rhys. It was difficult for Rhys to accept in the beginning and Azriel understood that but Rhys saw how much love was there, it was impossible to miss so who was he to stand in the way of that?”

Feyre stood in thought for a moment. “So, Rhys loved her first?”

Cassian laughed. “Of course he did. It’s not really a competition though, is it?”

She didn’t answer him, she simply stood there, thoughts swirling.

Feyre hated herself, she hated that she could not stop thinking about this girl who must have been something really special for both Rhys and Azriel to both love.

She’s their number one girl.

No matter how hard she had tried to not think about it, she couldn’t help it.

“What’s on your mind, Feyre darling?” Rhys’ smooth voice slipped through the silence of their bedroom.

She looked up at him from her place at the edge of their bed. “It’s nothing,” she stated simply.

Rhys frowned at her dismissal, placing his watch on his bedside table before walking to stand in front of her. He pressed a palm to the side of her face. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

She sighed, mostly in frustration at herself, partially in his insistence to talk about it. “Where you in love with Azriel’s mate?”

The utter bewilderment that appeared on Rhys’ face made her immediately regret her words and watch to shrink back in on herself. “What!?”

Feyre shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she tried to pull away but Rhys kept his hand on the side of her face, steadying her.

“Azriel doesn’t have a mate,” he told her, utter confusion lacing his words.

Feyre shrugged, “Were you in love with the same girl then?”

“I’m so confused, no?” Rhys said, having absolutely no idea where she could’ve gotten this from. “Where have you gotten this from?”

Feyre looked at him, frustration beginning to build within her. “I asked Cassian about how you used to do things in the same room, he said you and him did but not Azriel because it wouldn’t be nice for him to be pleasuring a girl that you loved! He said she was yours and Azriel’s number one girl.”

Rhys pulled his hand from her face and placed it over his mouth. The confusion in his eyes had faded into a an amusing sparkle as his shoulders began shaking with suppressed laughter.

“What!?” Feyre huffed. “What are you laughing at!?”

Rhysand released a full deep chuckle at her frustrations. “Cassian is an idiot and you are utterly beautiful when you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous!” She argued.

Rhys simply raised an eyebrow at her, completely unconvinced. “You’ve completely misinterpreted Cassian’s words, Feyre darling. It is still not my story to tell but I can promise you that Azriel and I have never been in love with the same girl.”

It had been five centuries since the disappearance of you and your mother and Azriel had never been the same.

Long before he met you, Azriel had learned what it meant to live in loneliness with nothing but his shadows for company but loneliness in response to your absence was never quite something anyone could become familiar with.

It was an endless void of nothing. Normally the thread of silence would at least end somewhere; a place where you simply got used to the feeling of someone not being there; but not with you.

It had been five centuries since your last laugh and that entire time Azriel has spent sleeping in your room. The room that sat right next to his own where your beds were pushed against the shared wall so even in your own beds you would be sleeping as close as you could get to each other.

It remained exactly how you left it, the same books sat on the nightstands, the same jewellery littered across a dressing table and a beautiful dress of deep blue with glittering silver stars on the bodice hung from the door of the closet, preparing to be worn for a day that never came.

Each morning that Azriel woke and got ready for the day, his last words to the House of Wind always remained the same. Leave it exactly how she left it, please.

The House always listened.

Whilst Azriel no longer slept in his own room, it had changed. The walls that were once a basic white had been transformed into a purple so unique it could only reflect the colour of your eyes.

In those rare moments that Azriel was able to relax away from the world, he would lay in his bed and stare at the walls of his room and whilst they could never reflect the light in a sparkle the way your own eyes could, the paint would simply have to do.

The winter chill of the Illyrian Steppes bit harshly into your cheeks as you ran through the thick snow into the forests surrounding the Windhaven camp.

The males were awful here, brutal even but even they knew to leave the daughter of the High Lord alone and so you were free to wander without the risk of your wings being torn from your back.

The trees created sanctuary for you here, as you weaved in between them you thought of your brother, Rhys and how quickly he would lose his mind once he found you gone.

A deep rooted feeling of being watched suddenly stirred in your stomach causing you to pause. It was the most subtle weight you had ever felt and yet you could not help but feel it as it settled into your bones.

You cast a quick glance up into the branches of the trees above you, where their leaves and twigs clashed and combined with one another, it took a moment for you to spot them but eventually you did.

Within a particular tall tree that was shaped in all groves and turns towards the top, deep within the shadows is where you saw him.

A male.

Sitting, observing.

“Hello,” you greeted softly.

No answer.

“What are you doing up there?” You asked.

The shadows fluttered and twitched at first before melting away into a black mist behind the males shoulders, revealing his face.

“Oh,” you whispered, taking in the hard expression of his face. He had hair of a dark midnight sky, eyebrows just a shade lighter that were furrowed deeply, shadowing his eyes that, against his dark features, seemed to glow golden when they narrowed towards you. He was all sharp lines and tensed muscles.

He shifted slightly in his place against the branches of the tree before stepping forward and allowing himself to gracefully drop down in front of you, merely inches away as he stared down into your eyes.

“How did you see me?” He asked, his voice was rough and deep for his age, possibly a couple years older than you, but his tone was steady.

“I didn’t,” you admitted. “I felt your eyes on me.”

It was then that you took notice of just how tightly his wings were pulled in at his back, a complete contrast to yours that were much more relaxed; pulled in just enough to protect them but let out enough that you didn’t have to consciously hold them in all the time, “you’ll get back pain holding them in like that,” you told him, pointing briefly at his wings.

They twitched in response, shadows fluttering wildly around the tips of his wings. It wasn’t a purposeful movement, that you could tell.

“I can’t control them,” He admitted to you.

Your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“I cannot fly,” he said. “I never learned how to control them.”

You stepped back at his words. “You can’t fly!?” You spluttered in outrage. “Why can’t you fly? Are you injured?”

He shrugged in a way that showed this wasn’t a big deal to him, as though it was normal. “I wasn’t allowed outside,” he stated simply.

You frowned, the idea of not being allowed outside was unfathomable to you. “You weren’t allowed?”

“My father didn’t let me,” his words remained even, unaware of the turmoil that was stirring in your gut the more he spoke, a turmoil that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I am a bastard,” he said, his tone empty and detached, as though he had long since accepted that was all he was reduced to.

You did not like how he seemed to convinced that that’s all he was worth.

“You’re a Shadowsinger,” you pointed out, remembering old tales of myths and legends you had read before. “Those are very rare.”

The shadows clinging to him fluttered and preened at the tips of his wings and over his shoulders as though they understood your words.

Azriel nodded in response, feet scuffing into the dirt often forest uncomfortably at your words.

“That’s so cool!” You whispered in awe, the admiration you felt was completely authentic but you were also hoping it comforted him a bit.

He looked at you, the only hint of confusion on his face was the soft crease between his browns and the subtlest tilt of his head. “You’re not scared?” He asked.

“Of what?” You laughed, as though the idea was absurd.

“Of me,” he raised one of his gloved hands, tapping his index finger into his chest.

“Have you given me a reason to be scared?”

He paused at your question, internally baffled at this entire interaction. “I suppose not,” he muttered to himself, the idea of you not being scared simply just from his presence was beyond him.

“What’s your name?” You abruptly changed the subject.

He was silent for a moment, contemplating whether he should tell you or not. “Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated softly, testing how it sounded. “That’s a beautiful name,” you told him.

His shadows twitched, his wings almost flinched at your complement, Azriel shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you want to be my friend, Azriel?”

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be good at it.”

You pursed your lips in response, looking around the forest floor before speaking. “I’ve never really had a friend either, there’s my brother, Rhys, but he doesn’t count. Do you have any siblings?”

Azriel tensed at your question, his entire body stiffening, hands clenching in his gloves. “No, it’s just me.”

“Well,” you began, “I’d be honoured to be your first friend, if you’ll be mine?”

You were beyond confusing to Azriel, the first person besides his mother to not look at him with fear or disgust, to look at him and just see a person.

Azriel did not reply verbally but he didn’t need to, you didn’t mind and so he simply nodded in response earning a beaming smile from you.

“Spread your wings out wide,” you instructed softly.

“They’re heavy,” Azriel muttered, wings spreading in stuttering movements, face twisting slightly as he concentrated on holding them.

Your eyes ran along his wings now that they weren’t tucked in painfully right, taking in the large span of them, they fluttered under your gaze, completely against Azriel’s control.

“That’s because your back muscles aren’t used to holding their weight, we’ll need to strengthen them,” you explained, eyes snapping away from his wings, towards his own hazel eyes instead.

“How do we strengthen them?” He asked.

“Exercises, most are trained from babies to use their wings so it comes a lot more naturally but we can do it together.” You smiled at him encouragingly.

You knew this was hard for him, you knew he thought he wasn’t worth your help and you knew that this entire situation was uncomfortable for him but you wanted to help him and you liked spending time with him.

“I struggled with flying at first,” you admitted, hoping it would comfort him in some way.

His eyes stopped glancing to the trees around you, now focused. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Rhys was flying before he could walk but I was too scared to do it. I didn’t trust myself. I kept imagining my wings just not working one day and falling to my death.”

Azriel shifted subtly, shadows restless. “How did you do it?”

“I had no choice,” you said. “One day my mother and I were looking at the stars from the balcony of our home and she just pushed me off, I had no choice but to trust my wings or fall and I flew for the first time that day.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “She pushed you off the balcony!?”

You smiled widely. “Yeah, I was so angry, I didn’t speak to her for a week but it worked. I won’t be pushing you off ledges until you can hold your wings properly though.”

You could detect the subtle relief that reflected in the golden hazel hue of Azriel’s eyes, as though he expected you to be able to push him off of any ledge and force him to command his wings that didn’t seem willing to answer him yet.

At some point, you will take great joy in pushing him off a cliff.

Not yet though.

Only when he was ready.

“Where does my starlight keep running off to?” Your mother’s gentle voice filtered through your ears as she brushed through your hair carefully.

You were silent for a moment, contemplating whether to reveal your secret. “I made a friend.”

You felt the comb pause briefly against your head before it continued. Your mother hummed absentmindedly. “Did you? Do I get to meet this friend?”

You pursed your lips in contemplation, an unexplainable feeling of protectiveness surging through your body. “He’s shy, he doesn’t like being around people,” you told her.

You missed the amused smile that appeared on your mother’s face, no doubt intrigued at the strange protectiveness that you had for your age. “He?” She asked, almost teasingly.

You huffed in response but a smile grew on your face that you couldn’t stop. “Yes,” you said strongly before your tone shifted to pride. “He’s my friend, I’m teaching him to fly.”

Your mother paused entirely, turning your body to face her own causing your eyes to meet her own that held the same violet hue she passed down to you and your brother. “Teaching him to fly? How old is this friend?”

Your shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Rhys’ age. His father never let him outside so he can’t fly.”

Worry clouded your mother’s face at your words. “Is he a good boy?”

A bright smile overtook your face at her question. “He’s the best! He’s very quiet but he still speaks to me and he listens to all of my complaining and his shadows play with my hair!”

“Shadows?” Your mother’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“He’s a Shadowsinger,” you whispered. “Those are very rare.”

“They are,” she repeated. “Don’t tell your father about him, starlight.”

“I would never,” you swore, your voice demonstrating the dramatic outrage of a child who couldn’t fathom sharing information like that to your father. “Mama?”

“Yes, starlight?” She asked, turning you back around so she could start braiding your hair.

“Don’t tell Rhys, okay?” You told her, your brother could get way too protective, it was embarrassing.

“I would never tell Rhys, starlight. Or Cassian.” She promised.

“Definitely not Cassian.” You agreed.

“I’m not ready!” Azriel protested, warily looking over the edge of the cliff you had pretty much dragged him too.

“You are ready!” You argued. “You’ve got great control of your wings and your muscles are as strong as can be!”

Azriel shook his head, shadows darting around him, showing his nerves. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you!” You replied simply.

“I’m too heavy for you to catch me!” He protested.

“You are not, I’m strong!” You argued, outraged at his accusation. “I’ll hold your hands?” You proposed, already reaching out towards his own gloved hands.

Azriel looked down at your outstretched hands, hesitation clear on his face, he really wasn’t sure about this but he did really want to be able to fly.

He relented, placing his hands in yours, earning himself one of your bright smiles, stars twinkling happily in your eyes.

Your wings fluttered slowly, not enough to lift you off the ground, just enough to encourage Azriel to copy your actions.

You slowly increased the force at which your wings beat, air building with the crevice of each controlled flap of the membrane.

Azriel copied your movements, his own wings much larger in comparison to any you’ve seen on other children your age, your own were quite big for a female Illyrian so young.

Azriel felt the change in gravity, the way his feet were itching to leave the ground on their own accord, as though his body was fully attuned and aware to what was currently happening even if it was unfamiliar.

“You’re doing it,” you whispered proudly, your own feet lifting off the ground before Azriel’s but your hands stayed in his as you remained stationary in the air, feet just slightly off the ground as you waited patiently for his own body to rise into the wind.

“You’re so close, just a bit more.” You encouraged him.

The second the air swept beneath Azriel’s feet for the first time, it felt as though his entire body was about to fall backwards as he had nothing to stand on but your hands tightened on his own, keeping him straight as he unsteadily rose with you, trying to focus on keeping his wings moving.

“It’ll come naturally the more you do it,” you told him. “You won’t even have to think about it.”

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that but as he felt the wind beneath his wings as he became airborne for the first time, with your hands holding his, he chose to believe you anyway.

“You’re flying Azriel!” Sheer joy and pride filled your face as you looked at him, he thought you looked beautiful like this.

The wind causing your hair to flutter around your face, eyes sparkling at the freedom that flying gave you and your smile took up your whole face as it always did.

Distracted by the sight of you in your element, Azriel lost focus of his wings causing him to quickly drop a few feet but your hands tightened on his just as his heart dropped in his chest out of panic.

He concentrated on beating his wings again, fluttering slightly higher than previously.

But even as he concentrated on flying, his mind was also on something else.

You had caught him, just like you said you would.

Wake. Wake. Wake.

Their hissing little whispers nudged you from unconsciousness. The cold concrete of the cave dug uncomfortably into your back. You groaned, shifting as your eyes opened, adjusting to the thick, clouded darkness you had been forced to endure for five centuries.

Another day it remained the same.

A sharp, slithering coldness nudged against your cheek, and again against your fingertips. You looked down in confusion, taking in the grey-black strands of darkness fluttering around your hands.

You raised your hands slightly, it was hard to see clearly but they resembled beings you had not seen in a very long time. The dark strands fluttered around your fingertips as you stared intently at them and in a movement so sharp, one lone sentient being jumped to your shoulder.

Your head snapped to the side as you looked at it, moving around, nestling into your clothes that had long since been reduced to scraps of fabric.

The beating beneath your chest stuttered as you stared at them.

Shadows.

They were shadows.

Master. Master. Master.

She hears us. She hears us.

They fluttered around you in a way that seemed to portray excitement.

Was that them talking?

“Azriel?” You whispered, broken yet that sick part of you still held a bit of hope.

Many years you had locked out memories of the Shadowsinger yet it never worked too well, you could never forget him and you would never forget the sentient beings that obeyed him either.

No.

They almost sounded like hisses.

“Not Azriel then.” You muttered. It did not surprise you, not really.

You didn’t understand.

“Another Shadowsinger?” You asked, it earned that same excited fluttering dance as before. Yes.

But who? You wondered.

It seemed they knew your thoughts too.

You. You.

Your face contorted into confusion. You weren’t a Shadowsinger.

You allowed yourself to think of Azriel again. Not of him exactly or the feeling of his love that had faded long ago but of his story.

Azriel had not been born a Shadowsinger.

How had Azriel become a Shadowsinger?

He had been locked in a dark cell for eleven years and had no choice but to find companionship within the darkness itself.

Oh.

“You’re my shadows.” You did not question this time.

Yes. They hissed again.

“But the faebane chains?” You wondered aloud.

“Shadows are not magic, they’re simply part of me.” Azriel had told you that before.

You studied them again, more intently this time and whilst they resembled the shadows of Azriel’s so very much there was the slightest hint of a difference; they weren’t just a grey-black, they had the slightest underlying tint of purple.

They truly were yours.

Release chains. They muttered, not to you, to themselves, fluttering around frantically.

“I can’t,” you whispered in long accepted defeat. “They won’t come off, someone else needs to do it.”

Your newly acquired shadows ignored you, muttering to themselves.

Shadowsinger will do it. Spymaster will do it.

But your energy was draining again, conscious slipping into darkness, your shadows slipping through the cracks of the cave without you knowing.

Azriel had been born alone and he would die alone.

He had accepted that was all life was made for him, there were those years he had you, moments were he thought he’d have you forever but you were taken, brutally slaughtered along with your mother in the spring court.

He had never and will never forgive himself for not being there to protect you. Truthfully he did not know how Rhysand could go on with life after that, not that his High Lord and brother didn’t deserve to live, he did, but how had grief not taken his sanity Azriel would never know.

He would never know how Rhys could look in the mirror and not see the shadows of his mother and sister, not when some days Azriel could not look into his eyes and see the very reflection of the young woman he lost, his woman.

It would forever just be Azriel and his shadows.

Another night that Azriel slept in your room alone, beneath your sheets, on the pillows you always hid that ridiculous stuffed bat beneath.

When he awoke this time though, it was different.

His shadows, usually fluttering lazily were muttering and batting around recklessly, their unease settling in Azriel’s chest, having the spymaster looking around the room carefully.

The only thing that seemed wrong were his shadows themselves, it was as though they were fighting each other?

Intruder. Intruder. They hissed, flying into each other as though they were in a sort of disorientated state. Azriel had never seen anything like it before.

Deep down, Azriel understood that there was no intruder in the House of Wind but he did not understand what they could be referring to.

The bond between himself and his shadows was strange. They told him things yes, but a lot of their communication came down to feelings, he felt their unease, their frustration, as though they were participating in an internal battle.

But why?

He sat up in your bed and observed them closely. He too, could see that there was something off but couldn’t quite put his mind to it.

Intruder. But where?

The shadows hissed at each other, floating around the room in distress, it was when the golden rays of the morning sunrise shone through the balcony window that he saw it.

His eyes, always so sharp, caught that difference in his shadows. Not his shadows, he concluded. Eyes widening, he reached out to that invisible thread and called his shadows back to him with a snap.

There it was.

A small cluster that did not return to him, a cluster of shadows that looked just the slightest different to his own. That underlying purple tint was not his.

He tried to reach out, tried to find that tether to them.

Nothing.

They did not seem threatening though.

They fluttered and danced around before him, as though they were trying to communicate with him but could not.

Help. His own shadows muttered.

“Help?” He questioned.

They plead help. They hissed into his ears. Another Shadowmaster. Trapped.

Azriel shook his head, he was the only shadowmaster.

No. They hissed, more stern this time, as though telling him he was wrong.

Azriel removed himself from your bed, pulling on his Illyrian leathers as quickly as possible, not even strapping his weapons to himself. Instead he simply grabbed Truthteller alone into its sheath.

He approached the bedroom door, turning to see if those other shadows would follow, they were.

He let himself out of the room, shadows, his and not his following behind closely, he barged into Rhys’ study causing the High Lord to jump, not that he would ever admit.

“Azriel?” Rhys greeted, looking up from his papers in barely concealed surprise. “A knock would be nice.”

“We have a problem.” Azriel simply responded earning Rhys’ full attention.

“What is it?”

Azriel held out a gloved hand and while Azriel had no means to communicate with these shadows, they understood him and gathered into his palm, fluttering into a rounded shape.

Rhys simply looked at them in confusion. “What am I looking at? New party trick?”

Azriel shook his head, face contorting as he studied them. “They’re not mine, I can’t communicate with them.”

“What?” Rhys uttered to himself.

“There’s another Shadowsinger out there,” Azriel responded, mostly to himself. “They communicate with my shadows but I can’t understand them myself.”

“Another Shadowsinger?” His High Lord mumbled, shaking his head. “No, you’re the only Shadowsinger alive.”

“Not anymore,” Azriel argued, his and the guest shadows beginning to flutter wildly in their own disagreement. “Apparently they’re trapped.”

Chained. His shadows corrected. Caved.

“Chained,” he spoke aloud.

“Perhaps for good reason,” Rhys argued, whilst Azriel was his brother and he trusted him beyond measures, he was well aware just how powerful Shadowsingers were, if this other Shadowsinger was locked away then perhaps it was because it was deserved.

Azriel shook his head, a sort of confused anguish taking over his features as he observed the shadows sitting in his palm. “They don’t feel threatening, or evil. They’re scared, pleading for help, for freedom.”

“How do you know they’re not pretending? That this other Shadowsinger hasn’t sent these here to play a ruse just to get their freedom?” Rhys asked.

The guest shadows in his palm shrunk down in defeat whilst his own fluttered in agitation around his shoulders and the tips of his wings.

She doesn’t know they’re here. She can’t control it yet.

Azriel listened to their whispers with widened eyes before looking at Rhys. “She cannot control them, this ability must be newly manifested, they came here on their own. Besides, shadows don’t work like that, they can’t fake feelings or emotions.”

“She?” Rhys sat up straighter in his chair at the newfound information.

“I can’t explain it, Rhys,” Azriel muttered, deep in thought. “I have this feeling that I need to free her, I don’t know why, it just feels right to.”

Those lone little shadows of yours clung to Azriel in the following days, against your knowledge. Azriel spent that time preparing himself for rescuing you, not that he knew it would be you he was rescuing, trying to gain as much information as he could through his own shadows translating messages back and forth with yours.

It was strange for Azriel, not only that there were sentient echoes of darkness that for some reason he could not communicate with but also knowing that somewhere out there, trapped and alone, there was another like him, another who could communicate with the darkness and melt into the shadows, even if it was a new manifestation.

The cave you were imprisoned in, he learned, was located somewhere in The Middle, because of course it was.

What other place would be sick enough to have trapped a person so long that the shadows had sought them out?

Trapped for centuries. The shadows had told him.

Bound by faebane chains, tormented by memories of a time that had long since faded.

Azriel, in all he had been through and in all his grief and terror over the years, could not imagine being trapped within the same four walls for hundreds of years.

He had barely lasted eleven, Rhys had hardly lasted fifty and yet out there, a poor woman had lasted hundreds of years, alone.

A woman of his kind.

The cave, as Azriel stood before it, was hardly a cave. It was more a carved hole in the ground, hidden by overgrown moss and shrubbery that even he, a spymaster, would have overlooked had he passed by without your shadows leading him to it.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to squeeze his overgrown body into it.

Your shadows shot forward like whips, diving into the underground cave, no doubt snapping back to you, even though your lack of control, they were drawn to you, desired to be close to your being.

Azriel crouched down, inspecting the gap in the ground, his own shadows fluttering around in agitation, some even darting ahead into the cave. He peeled off his outer layers that he strapped his weapons to, sending them down into the cave before him.

Risky, no doubt, but he felt no threat towards whatever presence was inside this cave, only an innocently, trapped Shadowsinger.

One that meant no harm, only desiring freedom.

He heaved himself through the gap, the concrete lining the underground cave scratching against his arms and shoulders as he dragged himself through, gravity doing most of the work, allowing him to drop down onto solid stone and rock.

It smelled awful; blood, dirt, faebane and a hell of a lot like someone had long since lost the will to live.

He saw the chains, loads of them, hanging from the ceiling, from the walls, even some bound to the ground with bolts.

Even as someone bound by shadows and member of the Night Court, Azriel could not see clearly in the darkness of this pit but his shadows led the way, they led him to your shadows.

Your shadows that covered just about every part of you, hiding you as though attempting to protect your presence from anyone who could possibly mean harm, leaving you just the image of a darkened, fuzzy blur.

“I will not harm her,” Azriel promised. “I only want to free her, take her back to the Night Court, help her heal and gain control.”

He saw the way they hesitated, how they debated whether they had made the right decision in finding him or not.

She trusted you. They whispered, confessed. His own shadows translating. Long time ago.

Azriel did not know what they meant by that. Had he known her once upon a time?

It was when they finally relented and made the decision to fade away from covering your body that Azriel, despite all the gore and torment he had witnessed in his life, felt like he was going to be sick as his eyes fell upon the battered figure of a young, fae woman.

His fae woman.

No. He shook his head, as though it would shake the sick illusion from his mind.

Yet you remained in his sight.

He knew that figure, that hair, those lashes. It has all haunted his every sleep and movement for the last five hundred years. The colour beneath your eyelids that he had drenched his walls in, that he would look upon every morning and every night.

Even unhealthily slimmer than you had been five hundred years ago, there would not be a single moment or a single version of you in which Azriel would not recognise.

The first person who had shown him grace, who had shown him that kindness and love does in fact exist, the person who had given him the family that he still clings to today in hopes of grasping at every last remainder of you that he had believed was long lost.

Your name was a ghost on his lips as he surged forward, shadows following, your own fluttering at his shoulders now as he unsheathed truth-teller and sliced through the chains binding you to this sick prison.

The dagger you had given him.

The first gift he had ever received.

He collapsed to his knees beside your battered, unconscious body.

Your breaths shallow, wrists and ankles raw from centuries of imprisonment, body all but skin and bones.

He smoothed a marred thumb over your cheekbone, hands shaking as he took you in, your body surrendered to his touch as though finally, it had found something safe it could relax itself in.

And though you were unaware, still in the depths of your mind, your eyes had fluttered open, a deep purple hue that he had missed for hundreds of years.

Azriel choked on a sob as he gazed upon you again, his soul shattering open at the sight of the only person he had ever loved in his five hundred years walking the lands of Prythian.

He felt the moment part of his soul tore from his chest and landed straight into yours, a golden thread deep within him keeping it tethered to himself even though it now sat with you.

Contents -

»-♡→ One | The Hollow Between | 2.8k words

»-♡→ Two | A Soft Miracle | 2.1k words - coming soon

»-♡→ Three

»-♡→ Four

»-♡→ Five

»-♡→ Six

»-♡→ Seven

»-♡→ Eight

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A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

This was another requested fic!! It focuses on the topic of fertility struggles and pregnancy loss. The request left the ending up to me and I will reveal that I chose a happy ending—a little comfort after all the heavy emotions :)

I know this can be a sensitive topic for some, so please read it with care. I've tried my hardest to handle everything thoughtfully and respectfully!!

Also, just a quick note, the title of this fic "Fallow" means land left unused for a time to restore its fertility—I'm really proud of it and I just wanted to mention it x

Emperor! Gojo takes a bath with all his women, when you decide to join the bathhouse after quite a long time without one, your mind drifting to the boy you loved when you were forced to leave your home. You remember your kisses, your promises, and the moment you got sent away here, with a man who's currently being fed grapes in the clear bath waters by many women. They're giggling, touching him, and you barely see him as your attendant helps you undress.

Emperor! Gojo has brilliant blue eyes that catch you across the enormous, steamy bathhouse then - he's pausing as he sees you, just wearing a thin white slip of material, curious just who you are. You take some of the soap you've brought, and your attendant washes your hair while he can't take his eyes off you, your curves in that thin material, the way the smooth skin of your thighs is lit up but the lanterns above. You're so beautiful he must know who you are.

Emperor! Gojo feels his mouth go dry when you step into those waters now, standing a bit so that he sees the full outline of your breasts, making his cock twitch under the water, he can't focus on anything but how those droplets of water fall from your skin as you methodically wash yourself. You peer at him just a bit, before lowering your lashes, when he can't help but look at one of his favorite girls, asking - 'who is she?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't get an answer, no one knows what you look like yet, so he assumes you must be one of the new girls in a position to become a concubine. and fuck if he wouldn't love that opportunity, imagining fucking a baby into you ruins him then. One of his major duties is to have as many babies as he can, to strengthen the empire of course. Yet he tends to be a little apprehensive, he dares to admit he doesn't cum in any of the concubines yet, he doesn't know if he wants children right away. He's young, but of course the pressure is there, and he knows it will be soon, especially with him having to marry. He shoves that annoying thought away.

Emperor! Gojo was supposed to meet his wife today, should he feel bad? maybe. Does he? no, he does not. He steps away and walks across the water, giving you a good look at him then, his chiseled body, narrow torso, pale skin glimmering under the warmth of the room. The stream rises as you look slowly up his body, carved like a statue, then finally make it to his face, truly beautiful. He does look like his mother, those white locks with just a hint of lavender, the beautiful blue eyes even more intense than hers, his body glistening as he walks closer, plump vermilion lips curved in a smile as he murmurs a - 'hello, there, are you new here?'

Emperor! Gojo has a reputation of being kind and fair, though on the battlefield he was ruthless, tales of him were regaled worldwide, and you knew of his military prowess of course. You tremble just a bit as he gets closer, his eyes slipping down your body like a caress. 'I am new here, your majesty' he smiles now. 'No need to be so formal,' the emperor brushes a hand across your hair, marveling in the silkiness now. 'Are you here to be a concubine? I assure you, I have a position opening very soon' he acts as if that's a compliment, as if you should be thrilled your husband to be is willing to fuck a stranger while he ignores your meeting. But you smile, shaking your head. 'ah, you're mysterious, hmm?'

Emperor! Gojo is enamored when he touches you under the water, big hand on the small of your back, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit. 'You know who I am?' you nod a bit, biting your lip when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. one of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, it feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you? You bite back a sigh when he leans down, an arm on either side of you.

Emperor! Gojo murmurs the words - 'so fucking pretty, god,' and earns your blush, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours. 'Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?' when you say it he immediately recognizes it, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide. You smile, meanly then, batting your lashes. 'was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, hmm? I see you were otherwise occupied' you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. 'It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey on ship, you know.'

Emperor! Gojo sputters, eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment. 'You're my... you can't be... you...' a sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back. 'Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting. I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one,' you turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down. No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down!? yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel. 'Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty'

Emperor! Gojo is wracked with confusion, part of him doesn't even believe you, concubines were known for their beauty and assets, but wives were much different. They were always from some long line of weak women, usually only there for their duty, his own mother was quite an exception, but her and his father never loved each other. He hoped himself to never have to marry, but now he feels just the smallest twinge of guilt for not meeting you. Even for him it was quite the talk, he could hear the rumors of how he doesn't have interest in his bride to be as he walks through the corridors of his opulent estates.

Emperor! Gojo sees glimpses of you here and there that week, but you bow and say no words to him, avoiding him until it is your wedding day. And to say you were beautiful before, now it leaves him speechless, throat dry as you were those beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. He's wearing his thick dark blue sokutai, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do. His heart hammers as you clutch your hands together, feeling the stoic eyes of so many on you. You focus on the tall, handsome man that clearly doesn't want this any more than you do, stepping closer and closer, until you're in front of him.

Emperor! Gojo is still reeling when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, he places his lips on one end of the little dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips. Your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, blush along your precious cheeks. Precious, why did he think that? the thought irritates him, when you two continue the ceremony. Soon, it's night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono, loosely tied, walking over to your chambers now and entering them, seeing you sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. 'You may go,' he orders her, the doors shutting with a loud echo as he inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit.

Emperor! Gojo has a husky tone as he says your name, and you stand up now, wearing just a thin blue robe, he can see your breasts rising and falling with your breath, as the two of you stand across the room. 'The sooner I have a baby, the less you'll have to see me, or do this,' you say then, shocking him. His mouth opens, then closes as he smirks at you. 'And you think that you know how that's done?' you tilt your head just a bit, letting your robes fall then, covered in nothing, completely bare for his eyes. His breaths come far too quickly, heat rising on his cheeks. He's been with countless women, but nothing prepared him for this, for you, when you step up to him slowly, a hand on his chest. 'Should I prepare you, your majesty?'

Emperor! Gojo is furiously blushing now, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, he tries to save face, trembling as your fingers dance across the silk of his robe. 'you think you're adequate at it?' he says then, you smile just a bit. 'I've had instruction on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it,' he laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes his tie, and he's just in a fundoshi, showing his cock straining while his robes land on the floor. 'Let's see it, then,' he gasps when you're on your knees, glaring as he thinks that maybe you've done this before, and why should that bother him!?

Emperor! Gojo has his cock free then, slapping his stomach as it does, thick and already hard from just seeing you, you bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops. 'I thought I'd have to get you in this state? the books didn't mention it being ready...' he glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it, calling out his desperation. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that. 'Let's see what you've learned, hmm?' you're stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists, as you suck him into your mouth, deeper and deeper, his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth then.

Emperor! Gojo has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, your suction, the way your tongue swirls, as he fucks your throat deeper and deeper, moaning. But mostly, those eyes looking up at him. He's whispering filthy things - 'slutty fucking throat' - then sweet things - 'doing s'good, sweetheart...' a conundrum of a man. You feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect, snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, while you taste him, hands pressing on his muscled thighs. He pulls you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth. 'Was I not adequate?' he laughs without humor, standing you up now. 'Not adequate?' he is lifting you and slamming his lips on yours, tasting himself, before carrying you on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes.

Emperor! Gojo has elegant long fingers, they slip down your body as he feels it tremble, fingers touching your slick cunt then. You gasp as he kisses down one of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth, moaning and rutting his cock on the silk blankets as you cry out. 'Your majesty, you don't need to do all of that, just... get it done,' your words make him pause, looking up and seeing you then, lips swollen from his kisses. He pauses and looks down your body, dying to be inside you, but your words fuck him then. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, and you were just 'doing your duty'. He pulls back then, raising a brow at you. 'Do I need to suck you more?' he shakes his head, clearing his throat then - 'tonight, we will not consummate the marriage' - the words hurt you deeply. 'did I displease you?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't know what it is, but the thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. He shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion, when he kisses down your tummy, watching it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock. 'Are you untouched?' he asks, you blush then. 'I have not lain with a man, no, but I'm not untouched.' Satoru's furious anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment, he surely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin. In fact he prefers experience, but when he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly, the prettiest one he's seen. 'Your majesty, that's not... in the books!? ah!'

Emperor! Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit then, smirking against your cunt as your mouth is wide. 'Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,' he laps up your slit again, and you whine out, gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in. 'I'll have you cum on my face tonight,' his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him, moaning as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your tiny hole, holding your thighs apart. You're lost in how good it feels, you've cum before but never have you done this, felt this, so intense, so much pressure. You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt.

Emperor! Gojo almost cums from just this, he's never enjoyed this so much, he can't help but pay attention to every little thing. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, he clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth. 'ah! y-your majesty!' he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, for now he just devours your pussy, until you shatter. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing, pleasure making you dizzy, blinded. Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt, smirking down at you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess. 'a lot of talk, I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart'

Emperor! Gojo is getting up then, as you catch your breath, sitting up and looking at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, embarrassingly coated with your slick. 'And where will you go, your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then, leaning low, tilting your chin up as you look at him. 'would that bother you, sweetheart?' you shake your head, it can't bother you, it shouldn't, this will be your life now. 'Ah, you're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know,' he turns and walks away then, leaving you alone, to contemplate it all.

Just who was Emperor! Gojo!?

hehe I hope ya'll enjoy I can't wait to finish up a couple stories and get to this (or be chaotic and do it anyway lmaoo)

Clouds, part two | @xvreadsbooks

Azriel gets injured after acosf & angst to fluff ending.

The Bond | @/xvreadsbooks

The reader is a healer & Rhysand’s sister during the human versus fae war 500 years before acotar takes place

Azriel x pregnant! Reader, part 2  | @darkazraels

Azriel abandoned you, and you don’t truly understand why. 

Masterlist | @crumbledcastle28

On the floor  | @/crumbledcastle28

with the inner circle outside your door and a broken bed, desperate times call for desperate measures….

Keep talking | @/crumbledcastle28

He had seen your panic attacks before, he had brought you down from them before, but never one like this.

Worst Fear— Worst Nightmare | @/crumbledcastle28

Test me  | @/crumbledcastle28

after centuries of disappointment, you have developed impenetrable defense mechanisms, until Azriel sees right through the cracks.

Good morning | @paasrin

Azriel has come from a mission early in the morning and has fallen exhausted, when you wake in the morning you play with his hair.

Wild Flowers and Wedding Bells | @lost-in-a-daydream20

When Azriel comes home from a mission beaten and bloody. He makes the decision to surprise Y/n in a big way.

And if You Loved Me? | @lavenderdreams22

Falling Masterlist | @bookish-whore

It was a rainy day in fall when the mating bond snapped into place for Y/N, but what happens when her mate is already involved with another? Secrets will be revealed, Proposals will be made and Hearts will be broken.

Overprotective  | @/bookish-whore

Hostile | @/bookish-whore

And Even in the Darkness, I’ll be There, Part 2, Part 3 | @you--do--not--yield

You’re on a solo mission that goes badly. Azriel and the rest of the Inner Circle are on their way, but will they find you in time?

Love between | @/you--do--not--yield

Azriel bails on you again, a fight ensues, and now Azriel is left wondering how he fixes it.

Masterlist | @redheadspark

Small gestures | @/redheadspark

Azriel was never one with words. But with his actions, he was perfection at that!

Worth | @/redheadspark

Your mating bound with Azriel makes you doubt your worth as a potential mate. Azriel, however, doesn’t see it that way

Healer | @/redheadspark

Azriel’s protective side comes to play after his mate is wounded in the battle against King Hybern (Takes place after the battle in Wings and Ruin)

Acotar Masterlist | @azrielhours

Starry Eyes | @/azrielhours

It’s Solstice, reader gets clingy w Azriel when she’s tipsy but he loves it. He tries to keep her awake to see Starfall but she’s falling asleep. He takes care of her and takes her to her room when she drifts off.

Waiting for you | @/azrielhours

Reader and Az are besties who are secretly in love w each other but refuse to admit it. She’s the only one who gets him out of his broody moods so she comforts him after a bad mission. She gets badly hurt on a mission and he goes feral rescuing her.

Homesick / Lovesick | @/azrielhours

Az takes reader on a date to see Velaris. She’s his mate but hasn’t figured it out. He knew but wants to let her figure it out and accept him on her own. She feels homesickness.

Wounded | @/azrielhours

Azriel is badly injured on a mission and shows up to reader’s apartment. She takes care of him, patches him up, and they confess their feelings. Angst in between but happy ending.

Stolen away  | @/azrielhours

Az and reader are in a new and secret relationship. They keep trying to have intimate moments together, but someone always interrupts them. Eventually Az acts up.

I had to leave, part two, part three | @yourfavouriterival

y/n archeron, the eldest sister, is mated to azriel. but azriel isn’t aware of this. this paired with the trauma of being made makes y/n make drastic decisions.

A Slight Inconvenience | @honeybeefae

When Rhysand sends you and Azriel to visit the Day Court, Helion “mistakenly” only has one room for the two of you. Exhausted from your travels, you and Az brush off his half-hearted attempts at a solution and settle in for the night. That is until one of you breaks.

Playing The Part | @/honeybeefae

In the Court of Nightmares, everyone has a part to play, even you. After a night of teasing touches and flirtatious glances while you do your dirty work, Azriel cannot take it anymore and not only reminds you who you belong to, but why you don’t tease him in the first place.

Bloody cabin | @kindredcandy

More Than Myself | @tadpolesonalgae

Nightmares | @/tadpolesonalgae

Masterlist | @gothicbabydollz

Coffee and Cuddles | @the-book-gnome

The Hewn City | @arrantsnowdrop

As a member of the Inner Circle, Rhys has requested you accompany them for their routine visit to the Court of Nightmares. You’re terrified - enter protective Azriel.

Another Kind of Love | @ellievickstar

With Azriel’s terrible track record with females of course another one would not be any different….right?

Mine forever | @quill-and-the-curse

Healthy Competition | @/quill-and-the-curse

Junior Spymaster | @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

Free Falling, Part 2 | @profound-imagination

Dear Azriel,  Part 2,  Part 3, Part 4 | @/profound-imagination

Azriel needs a haircut. | @imabookadict

azriel needs a haircut.

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You’re Rhysand’s younger sister and the person who’s been in love with Azriel for, like, ever. After an entire century running away from your feelings for the Shadowsinger, and the sting of his rejection, you decide to finally return home to Velaris for Winter Solstice. You’re older, more mature — and still totally enamoured by him. Chaos is bound to ensue…

Heart of Fire | @/acourtofwhatthefuck

Tired of waiting , Part Two | @acotar-thirst

You and Azriel found out you’re mates right before he had to go on an important mission. Now, all you two want is to make everything official…

Head Games | @cest-la-vieve

where reader has been waiting to see if Azriel makes good on his threat… and he does.

false confessions | @writingsbychlo

you overhear azriel say something, and try to cooperate.

how we survive | @/writingsbychlo

you and rhysand keep one another sane under the mountain, until you can return to your mate, at long last.

Yours To Keep And Cherish | @starlightandsouls

Azriel and the reader are in a secret relationship. No one knows until a certain Archeron sister finds out. Chaos ensues.

୨ৎ An Honest Mistake┃4.4k 18+

Lonely and bitter following Gwyn and Balthazar's mating ceremony, you and Azriel sleep together. As it turns out, one night is all it takes to change everything.

୨ৎ Sweet and Strange┃4.5k

Weeks after a one-night stand with Azriel left you pregnant, Elain Archeron becomes an unlikely friend. When Azriel discovers your secret, you both must confront an uncertain future.

୨ৎ Topics of Conversation┃6.6k

A dinner with the Inner Circle triggers unexpected resentment. Back at your apartment, you and Azriel have a heartfelt talk.

୨ৎ Something to Lose┃2.6k

Azriel struggles with the weight of impending fatherhood after a political meeting turns personal.

୨ৎ Brave New Beginnings┃8k

Azriel's reluctance to be honest about his protective surveillance clashes with your confusion over his mixed messages, finally forcing both of you toward genuine communication.

୨ৎ Out in the Open ┃4.6k

During a quiet morning with Azriel, the reality of your pregnancy meets the one person you've been avoiding.

୨ৎ Partners in Crime┃2.5k

Pregnancy hormones, unrequited feelings, and family dinners don't mix well. Luckily, Azriel understands the art of a strategic exit.

୨ৎ A Mother's Home┃4.1k FAV!

You take a trip to Rosehall to meet Azriel's mother. The visit unearths more than you expected.

୨ৎ Learning Curve┃3.8k

On his mother's porch, you and Azriel find yourselves talking about forgiveness

୨ৎ Soft Spots┃2.3k

Ice cream nights and sweet confessions.

୨ৎ Growing Pains┃7.9k

Azriel grapples with his possessive instincts when you find comfort with a new healer, forcing him to confront what friendship actually requires.

୨ৎ Measurements of Progress┃3.9k

A bad day prompts you to call Azriel over. The afternoon leads to conversations about your romantic histories.

Current Word Count: 55.2k

BONUS CONTENT

ONE SHOTS:

୨ৎ Sweet Treats┃1.7k HALLOWEEN AU

Six months pregnant, you and Azriel celebrate your first Halloween together.

CHAPTER MEMES:

The Plot of 'Growing Pains' Summarized Through Memes

Moments from 'Measurements of Progress' in Meme Format

ASKS, DISCUSSIONS, AND THOUGHTS:

#Honestverse tag or #baby daddy!az

over the next fifteen minutes, valko sniffed your entire upper body over heavily, occasionally stopping to lap at your skin affectionately.

it wasn’t until he had his nose pressed against your crotch that his tail finally gave a wag. he popped his head up and tapped your inner thigh.

“i found the new smell.” he announces, proud of himself.

you glanced down at him and stifled a laugh. “what, my pussy? have you never smelled it before?”

as if realizing what he’d been doing for the first time, valko sat up, his cheeks flushed. “uh- sorry, i didn’t mean to invade your privacy like that.”

“it’s fine, valko, really. we’re dating, anyway. i’ve honestly been waiting for you to work up the courage to get down there.”

you bookmark your page and set the book down, wiggling down to get comfy against your mattress and spread your legs just slightly.

valko’s expression softens slightly, his eyes still full of curiosity. “really?”

“mhmm.” you nod and stretch your arms out, bored. “i can tell you wanna investigate..” you reach down and pull the crotch part of your loose shorts to the side, exposing the dampened fabric of your panties.

the scent hits valko stronger than before and his previous hesitation vanishes. his pupils dilate and drool pools im his mouth, threatening to spill out the corners.

he plops himself back between your thighs and noses your shorts to the side. his nose presses directly against your clit, inhaling deeply and exhaling with loud whines.

you expect him to move your panties to the side and start licking or sucking or something, but he just keeps sniffing you through them like the scent was giving him a high. you let him be for another minute before clearing your throat.

“ko, my love, do you not know how to eat someone out?” you try to ask as nicely as possible, but your voice has a hint of teasing.

he peeks up at you, yellow eyes wide with embarrassment. “no, of course i do, i’m just trying to figure out what the smell is.”

you sigh and press against his forehead, pushing his head out from between your legs. he pouts and is about to start whining again until you peel your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere to the side.

you take his hand and run his pointer and middle fingers through your slit, shivering at the stimulation. you guide his fingers to his nose for him to sniff, which he obviously does with vigor.

“it’s arousal. i’m aroused, valko.”

valko sniffs his own fingers heavily, giving you a distracted little. “hmm?”

you groan and grab his jaw, pull it open, and shove his wet fingers into his mouth. “do i need to hols your hand for every little thing? im horny eat me out, finger me, fuck me- do literally anything or i’m using my toys while you watch.”

“you’re horny? like, you want to reproduce?” valko asks, pieces coming together in his head. UNfortunately for you, the taste and smell of you has valko’s brain thinking more werewolf than human.

you nod and lay back down, relieved that he seems to suddenly understand. “exactly- well, not quite the reproduction part, but yes to the horny part.”

his tongue was lapping at the liquid drooling from your pussy in an instant, the rough texture a new feeling for you.

it only took a minute or so for you to realize that valko… wasn’t good at this. his tongue was clunky and he was avoiding all the spots he shouldn't avoid.

you cleared your throat and scratched at his fluffy ear. “are you a virgin?”

valko continued delivering slobbery kisses to your hole. “mmhmmmm.” he answered happily, droopy eyes opening up to meet yours. “my mate..”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “you’re telling me you have never slept with anyone else? you??”

he pulled back slightly, biting on your inner thigh. “never. we mate for life, and you’re my mate, aren’t you?”

“well not technically-” you counter, only for him to interrupt you with a growl.

“not yet. this counts as mating. you’re..” he goes right back to sniffing you, whining at the heady scent. his hips roll against the mattress, desperate for stimulation. “you’re in heat, i’ll fix it.”

valko slurped and prodded at your entrance, his tongue sinking in and out experimentally. slowly hur surely, he found a rhythm that made moans bubble out of you and your back arch.

you gripped his plum colored hair and pulled. a tail with the matching plum color popped up behind him and swished back and forth agressively.

your whines and pleas encouraged valko, spurring him on as he doubled his efforts. the more he went, the more wet you got, which increased the scent just millimeters from his nose. he took in big gulps of air through his nose, sniffing you while his mouth was preoccupied.

“valk- mmhhhh, fuck!” your fingers twisted in his hair, holding him still as you ground against his face.

he pushed another finger in beside the first and curled it upwards, tongue swirling around your puffy clit at the same time.

valko humped the bed, his clothed dick hard and leaky as he savored your taste.

you whined his name again and he looked up at you, his yellow eyes glowing and piercing yours in the dark room.

you knew valko was sweet and you knew he would never in a million years hurt you, but when he looked at you like that with his eyes dilated… it felt like he was hunting you.

you didn’t have time to process how helpless that made you feel and how much you liked it before you came. you think you screamed, but you’re not entirely sure. the only thing you know is that when you sat up, your body felt like lead, your head was fuzzy, and valko’s face, hair, and fluffy ears were coated in your cum.

you’d squirted on him- the poor guy had never eaten someone out before, and you’d soaked him.

“shit, i’m so sorry, i didn’t know that would-” you try to apologize, but are cut off by valko continuing yo eat you out, far more ravenous this time.

you squeak and dig your nails into the thick muscle of his shoulder. “what are you doing?! i already came- mmh!”

he hums against you, talking with his mouth full. “i know, it’s all over me- fuck, more, i need more. give me more.” he growled, feral.

your scent was too much for him to handle when it was contained in your pants, but now that it was physically on his skin and seeping into his hair and fur? it was impossible to act with decorum.

valko didn’t relent until you’d came five more times, only stopping once he realized you were crying from overstimulation.

he’d also cum numerous times in his pants, whimpering and whining in both pain and pleasure at how his knot swelled against nothing, throbbing uselessly as he wasted his cum.

valko cuddled you after, laying you on top of him and nuzzling his face (still coated in your cum) against yours. you’d chastized him for that, trying to convince him to wash it off, but he looked at you like you’d asked him to shave his tail. “you marked me, don’t you realize? i’m never cleaning my face.”

you scoff and gnaw at the spot between his shoukder and neck. “i could actually mark you if you want.”

valko’s tail thumped against the bed beside you, wagging happily. “please? please, pleaseee mark me, i’m ready.”

“mmmh. fine. but that makes me the alpha, doesn’t it?” you tease him with a smirk.

valko huffed and raised his lip, showing his fangs. “you don’t have these, do you?”

you laugh and shush him. “quiet down and let me mark you, like a good omega.”

valko growled, but whined happily when you bit at his skin.

a/n: they were supposed to fuck but i got lost im the sauce like valko

tags: @colonelkaboom @sweetcalebb @heartyluv @rafayelkisses @wetforsylus @angeleclair @insidious-innocence @xaviersbunny @deepspacenova @silverianni @paintedperidot @luvleixo @gardenialily @xinghuisknight @theerogueprincess