#abraxos

One of my favorite pieces from last year and inspired by the wildflower-loving wyvern, Abraxos, from Throne of Glass.

Process: hand stitched wyvern on cotton fabric, cut out, and appliquéd onto wildflower fabric. All thread is DMC; metallic-based thread is Diamant to give appearance of spider silk

@buffy-vanserra ill take that limb now… Here’s my Throne of Glass gals holiday quiz, let me know who you got in the tags or vote in the poll below!

And I think that would be very beautiful… 🌸🐉

Pt. 3

Warnings: Psychological Torturer! Az, Az x Amren duo,  blood, mentions of SA,  imaginative smut, masturbation, reader meets the powerhouses of the Erilean War, reader starts a training arc, kind of. Lavender soap is mentioned (it’s a warning). 

Azriel stood on the far wall of the dungeon cell. Your mother’s pants are accompanying the sound of her blood dripping. He watched the blood slip into the grate beneath your mother’s dangling feet. The monsters beneath snarled in hunger, tasting the drops of blood of their next meal. “You’re not listening to me. I haven’t seen the thing since I left her at the temple,” your mother rasped. Azriel’s jaw clenched at how she referred to you. You were not a thing. You are a godsdamned gift to this world. A blessing from The Mother and Cauldron. 

“And you are not listening to me. How was she made? Who helped you? Answer those questions, and you will be free to go,” Amren said, a mask of indifference on her face as she watched your mother try to writhe out of her restraints. She didn’t answer, and Azriel was growing impatient. He hadn’t seen you in five weeks; he missed you, and he was ready to murder anyone who got in his way. 

Azriel had been keeping his murderous tendencies at bay, but he was quickly losing his grip on that restraint. He felt lost as more time went on without you. The last time he went without seeing you was a dark time. Not only for him but for his family. He tried to keep those emotions in check: the grief, pain, and anger at Rhys’s decisions were palpable, but disappeared when he returned. This grief felt the same, as did the pain, but the anger wasn’t directed toward you. It was toward your father or… fathers to be exact. 

“I know nothing about them. They helped and then they left,” your mother rasped. Amren sucked her teeth at the answer. She grabbed one of her many knives and began to cut between muscles. The screams fell on deaf ears. Azriel watched numbly at the horrific scene before him. 

He despised this part of himself. He thought of having someone else do the torture would settle him, but it didn't. 

“You’re lying, tell the truth, and we’ll let you go,” Azriel said. His shadows slithered toward your mother, quickly beginning to swirl around her ears. The shadows whispered all sorts of madness. The panic began to set in for the female. The voices are swirling too close. 

You threw her away. She's ours. She is our master’s. You are selfish. You called her cursed. Tell us what you know, or you will die. Die. Die. DIE!  

“Alright! Make it stop, please,” she whimpered. The shadows returned to their master. Waiting for the female to speak. Amren sat in a chair, using the bloody knife to pick at her nails as her other knives floated in the air, ready to strike. 

“I was raped after my first bleeding. I didn't know what to do, and my parents threw me out when they realized I was pregnant. I was on the outskirts of the city, about to give birth all alone. The seven males helped me deliver. She had no heartbeat, she was not breathing, and I pleaded with them to save her. I did not know the power they held. Yet they still gave it to her. She was so weak and vulnerable, their magic powerful, and by some fate she accepted them as her blood,” your mother explained. “They stayed for a week, helping me recover and ensuring the babe was well. I never saw them again, but I knew I could not handle raising a child whose fits of crying provoked such storms. I barely had food for myself, not enough to nourish her as well. So I took her to the temple and left. That is all I know, I swear it.” 

Amren looked to Azriel, curious to see what he would say next. She knew your mother was not lying. She didn't like the story, but it was not a lie. You should have been brought to the High Lord, trained and assessed under Rhysand. You could have been a powerful weapon. 

Azriel noticed Amren’s distaste and annoyance. He didn't like how she was taking you as only your power. Granted, she always did that, but she did not have the right to do that with you. You are not a weapon unless you choose to become one. 

“Let her go, she's useless,” Azriel finally said. Your mother thanked him over and over again. The tight leash restraining his anger snapped. Before Amren could blink, Azriel was across the room. Shadows covered your mother’s head as he choked her. 

“Do not thank me; this was a warning. If I do not find my mate alive and in one piece, the shadows will find you and end you,” he seethed, eyes closed as his heightened hearing narrowed to the sound of the female’s heartbeat picking up, then beginning to slow the longer she went without air. He was reminded how much you looked like your mother and released her. He didn't wait for Amren as he left the cell. He was too exhausted to do anything but sleep and dream of you in his arms. 

His shadows transported him back to the townhouse. He dragged himself upstairs to your shared bedroom, your scent still lingering in the space. His legs took him to the bathroom, the sight of your toiletries on the counter made his stomach drop, and he found himself soaking in the tub using your lavender-scented soap that you always shared with him. 

Azriel sat in the tub, picturing you between his legs, a content smile on your face as he held you. His hands would rest on your stomach, mapping out the skin of your stomach, then going lower. He’d smile down at you when he heard your breath hitch as he traced along the scar. He knew what that scar meant. Mor had a similar one. He didn’t give a damn about having children so long as you were with him. 

You’d whimper his name, a soft plea to touch you where you needed him. He’d dip his fingers into your center, reveling at how ready you were for him. You’d suggest leaving the tub, your disdain for sex in the water evident. He’d agree, helping you out of the tub. Azriel carried you to the bed, setting you down like something precious because you are. You are the most precious thing to him, and he’d show you by worshipping your body. His mouth would start at your lips, traveling down to your jaw and tracing over where he marked you the first night you spent your new lives together. 

His tongue and teeth would ravish your chest. Swirling over your nipples, teasing you until you could not hold back your pleasure. The shadows would beg to touch you and pleasure you. Azriel would allow them to slither across your arms and legs, their featherlight touch soothing your warm skin. One day, he would allow them to ruin you properly. As his body moved further down your body, the scent of your arousal became stronger. He wanted you writhing for him, coming on his tongue with one swipe through your center. 

Azriel would finally give in to your pleas, never being able to deny you. He finally settled between your legs, groaning at your sweet scent and beginning to devour you. The shadows would move over your chest, treating you the same way he did. Your body would writhe, and your legs would open wider for him. He’d hook your legs over his shoulders as he worked you through your first orgasm. 

Azriel groaned at the memory as he stroked his cock. Wishing you were here to kiss away his tears. He didn’t finish. Succumbed to the pain of his reality that you aren’t here. 

—

You watched your brother as he sparred with his soldiers. He was quick for his size, capable of blocking and fighting after years of practice. It reminded you of your mate and his brothers. The bond between The Bane seemed so similar, greater than only three powerful Illyrians. Then again, all you knew about Illyrians was their ego and brutality. Azriel did everything in his power not to be like them. 

“Have you trained with a sword?” Aedion asked as he returned to you, covered in sweat. You shook your head, noticing Rowan entering the training grounds. Your shield concentrates closer to your body to block your scent from him.

“How do you normally defend yourself?” He asked. 

“I prefer daggers,” you said plainly. Aedion grinned at your answer. When he watched you break Rowan’s wrist, he knew you were lethal. He wanted to see how capable you are without your powers. Kyllian, Aedion’s second, passed along a few daggers, and you grinned. The silver daggers were beautiful, the hilt engraved with the white stag, a few jewels that glistened in the sunlight, and an even weight all around. 

“They haven't been sharpened, but would you like to spar?” Kyllian asked, a shy grin on his face as your eyes met his. You then remembered that your tattoos were still glamoured. 

“Keep your cock in your pants, Kyllian. She's mated,” Rowan warned. You avoided his gaze, still angry with him for capturing you. He hadn't even apologized. His mate and his brothers did, but not him. 

“Apologies, would you still like to spar?” Kyllian corrected, and you nodded. You entered the empty ring, noticing the other matches halting to watch you. It appears that regardless of which world, all males were the same. 

Kyllian lunged for you, and you twirled out, using the maneuver to jump and drive your elbow into his back. He groaned and got up quickly with his practice sword ready to strike. You flipped the daggers in your palms, using the dull blades to block his strike. He tried to force you to your knees, but you gave him a feral grin instead. 

Kyllian hadn't noticed where your feet were planted. Aedion watched in awe of your flexibility and strategic planning. You were always a step or two ahead of Kyllian, where he perried, your daggers found an open spot to stab him where vital organs were. He noticed how your reflexes were similar to Aelin's and the Crochan queen's. Swift, flexible, and assertive. You didn’t have formal training; that was evident. Your movements reminded him of Gavriel as well. You fought with your instincts, much like the lion did. 

Everyone grimaced when you drove your knee right between Kyllian’s legs. It was a brutal yet effective defense. Rowan realized then that not only were you partly him and his brothers, but something that was molded to be vicious. What you permitted him to know about you reminded you of his Fireheart. 

“Anyone else?” You asked, twirling the dagger in your hand. Rowan stepped forward. Aedion feared for his King. You had no remorse for knocking someone down. Your gaze sharpened on your father as he got into a fighting stance.

“No weapons,” He said. You nodded, throwing the daggers behind you and lifting your fists. Aedion watched as you and Rowan circled each other. Your focus was solely on him, assessing the lethal warrior. Your breathing evened out, the hollers from The Bane distant. Rowan noticed the calm that swept over you. It seems his daughter was not only used for her body in the brothel. He desperately needed to apologize to you. 

His distraction cost him. He hadn’t noticed you inching toward him until you punched his face. 

“Oohh,” The Bane grimaced. Rowan snarled, lunging for you only to get a wisp of your hair that had fallen out of your braid. Your foot connected with his chest, all the air in his body escaping him. He didn’t have a chance to find an opening. Your reflexes were quicker than his, almost like a lion toying with its prey. Gavriel would have handled this situation better than he did. If he couldn’t speak to you, what would he be like when Aelin is pregnant with their firstborn?

You noticed Rowan’s deflation as you landed another blow. It didn’t feel as satisfying as you thought it would be. No amount of physical violence could fix this. You stopped fighting, panting as the anger changed to annoyance. “If you aren’t going to fight back, then at least speak to me,” You breathed out. He didn’t move, frozen and kneeling in the dirt, accepting defeat from you. How could the bond between you burn so fiercely, and he ignored it? 

Aedion stood, noticing how your pain was consuming you. “Why can’t you look at me?” His heart broke hearing how small your voice was. He held you as you began to cry, pulling you away from your father as he slowly got up. You wanted to scream, your mind beginning to fill with that familiar darkness. He didn’t want you, nor did your mother. If it weren’t for a mating bond saving you, you’d still be a whore in Hewn City. “Why haven’t you apologized?!? You took me away from my mate!” You screamed, the dam finally breaking. Aedion picked you up, carrying you out of the training grounds as you sobbed. He kept apologizing all week for how you were taken. You accepted his apology fairly well, Aelin’s too, but none of The Cadre has formally apologized. Lorcan had been occupied with Elide’s pregnancy, Fenrys was… healing, and Rowan was at a loss for words for once. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as Aedion set you down. He shook his head, pulling you into his embrace until you stopped crying. He treated Aelin like a sister. He knew he could comfort you the same. His lips pressed against the top of your head. Your breathing evened out, and your anger settled. Your mind is no longer fogged by those horrible thoughts. You missed Azriel, and that hollow feeling took over. “I’m so lost,” you admit.

“We’ll help you find the way. What can I do to help you ease the pain?” He asked. You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what could help aside from going home. Aedion took a deep breath, loosening the grip around you. “How about we get something to eat, and I’ll answer any questions you’d like?” You were hungry, and food always made you feel better. You agreed and got onto one of the horses outside the training camp. 

The ride down the Staghorn Mountains was quiet. Until Aedion began to talk about the history of Terrasen. The Staghorns were stolen by Brannon Galathinyus from the former queen of the fae in Wendlyn, across the eastern ocean. He found this unclaimed land and created Terrasen. The stronghold of Erilea, until the most recent war against creatures from another world called The Valg. The way he described them reminded you of the stories you were taught about The Daglan. Dread began pooling in your gut. Your mind trailed to the thought that they were not done, and another world was in danger. Gods spare them.

“Aelin mentioned there are rifts here on occasion. Why?” You asked as you entered Orynth. Aedion didn't answer, a frown on his face. His horse slowed as you walked through the gate. You saw his gaze turn to the plaque on the wall. 

Where the lion sacrificed himself for his son and a better world. 

Gavriel. Your father, you didn't have a chance to meet. Aedion’s father. “We’re not sure why they appear. We repair them as they come. The day we kidnapped you, we were repairing the rift when Rowan sensed you. Lorcan and Fenrys came, and we went in. I had no clue it would happen how it did. I knew it wasn’t right, but we couldn’t risk getting stuck in your world. The rift closed as soon as we returned, as if it knew The Cadre had unfinished business,” He explained. You rolled your eyes at the reasoning. From what you could tell, Aedion was also hurt by how the situation was handled. He must’ve felt on the outside like you did. How many times has this happened for him to be annoyed with his family?

Aedion took you to his favorite restaurant, where he always took Evangeline on his day off. He couldn’t wait to introduce you to her. She would love you. That much was certain when he had brought you up to her. 

“General, it’s good to see you again. The usual?” Saeren, the owner, asked. You gave her a polite smile. Enjoying the rich smell of spices in the air. It smelled like the meals Azriel cooked for you. It was his secret talent. He enjoyed the process of cooking and would smuggle delicious spices from Velaris to you whenever he could. You made a note to ask Aelin for some to bring home. 

“I hope it’s okay that I ordered for you,” Aedion said.

“I wouldn’t know what to order,” You smiled as you sat down at a table with him. “Aedion, what was your relationship like with Gavriel?” You asked calmly. His eyebrows furrowed together, his golden hair casting a shadow over the rest of his features. You reached for his hand, offering some sort of comfort you could. The gods know you have enough father issues to share with him. 

“I never knew him. He ignored my existence until the war. I was angry at him for a long time, and then he went with his brothers to save Aelin and Fenrys. For most of the war, I spent it angry and stressed. Aelin wouldn’t share her plan, and I felt lost. When they returned to Terrasen, I had time to think and knew when it was over that I wanted to know him,” he said softly. He didn’t need to finish; you knew it was too late. The Lion saved his cub. “He ignored me to protect me from Maeve. So she wouldn’t come and kill me like she almost did with Aelin.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. Aelin hadn’t explained everything to you, but she did try to assure you that Rowan wasn’t a buzzard. He protected what’s important to him. At the time, you were too angry to listen, but hearing about Gavriel and how he and your fathers grieved him the entire night after he passed. You were beginning to understand the males a bit better. It still didn’t excuse what they did, but you felt that this new information could be an even ground. 

After eating your plate of food with Aedion, you felt lighter as you joked with your brother. You had such different lives, but whatever unspoken bond lingered through Gavriel strengthened with you both. “I have another question. What’s Carranam?” You asked. “I saw it in one of the books I was reading in the library.”

“It’s a bond between two fae. Not like a mating bond, but similar in the sense of strengthening each other. The bond allows two fae to share their magic and communicate without speaking,” He explained.

“Almost like Daemati powers, but both ways?” You asked, and he didn’t know what that meant. Your language was similar to his, perhaps a bit more evolved. He could tell the word felt foreign on your tongue as you spoke. 

“What is Daemati?” He asked. 

“It’s easier if I show you,” You sigh and begin to search through your mind for the bond between you and your brother. You pictured a golden door with a lion’s head, tapping against the door, eyes never leaving Aedion’s. He recognized the tap, allowing you to enter his mind.

This is part of the daemati powers. I can communicate mind to mind with people. With more training, it can be a cruel power like Maeve. I don’t intend to train it to that point. It’s mainly for communication.

“That’s horrifying, and impressive. Don’t let Aelin know you have the ability,” He warned. You flushed, lips pressed into a thin line. His shoulders dropped when he realized his queen already knew. Another thing he didn’t know at the same time as everyone else. 

“Close the door, you never know who could possess that power,” You said, and he did. He never felt magic in him aside from his heightened senses, but this was something he’d cherish for eternity. His sister showed him a magic that was new to him. 

The closer you got to the palace, you noticed a commotion at the main door. Something wasn’t right. As much as you disliked doing it, you reached out through the bond for Rowan to return to the Palace. You and Aedion began to trot on your horses, getting to the castle as quick as possible. Above you, a beast with wings flew toward the castle; its rider had hair that looked like moonlight. “What in gods name is that?” You gasped. 

“A wyvern, it’s difficult to describe,” Aedion said. Two stable boys collected the horses as you walked toward the palace entrance. You scented humans and fae. By the attire, they Royals from other countries. Aelin was in the middle of a hug with two men, her smile genuine and teary. The man to her right had shaggy chestnut hair and copper eyes. He had a cane and a chair with wheels close by. The other had gorgeous blue eyes, almost like two sapphire gems were placed in his pupils, and raven black hair that seemed to flow on a phantom whim. You jumped when the wyvern landed a foot away from you. The beast snarled at you, assessing if you were a threat to his rider. You didn’t break eye contact, extending your hand for the beast to smell you.

“You will lose that hand,” Aedion warned. You closed the distance, settling your hand on the beast’s head. His snarling ceased as you showed him who you were in his mind. You noticed the grief within him, the concern for the female on his back, the loneliness and agony of it all. 

“You lost your mate. I’m so sorry,” you whispered, kneeling before the beast. He let out a weak whine, resting his head against yours. This is why you despised your power. You always felt too much with it, unable to sort out someone’s mind like Rhysand. The beast felt you through the open door, how you shared the pain without knowing him or his rider. He decided you were not a threat and gave you his name. You smiled at his acceptance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abraxos,” you whispered before giving him yours. His wings bristled in delight at your name. 

“You are supposed to be a ferocious beast, yet when a pretty female gives you attention, you do not know how to behave,” Abraxos’s rider nagged. You snickered at Abraxos’s thoughts.

“He said, you spoiled him with pretty females that tend to him.” The rider smirked as she dismounted. You stood, keeping contact with Abraxos to let him know you were not going to neglect him. 

“I am Manon, Queen of the Witch Kingdom,” She said, and you bowed your head. She was surprised at your gesture. Most strangers are still wary of witches. Though you tamed her beast in such a short amount of time. Your scent was familiar and foreign, partly of this world and not. 

“While it’s wonderful to see you all again, we should move this discussion inside,” Aelin said. You knew what this would be about and tapped on the queen’s mental shield. She did not reply, only giving you a curt nod. You both knew this would happen after you healed Terrasen. Gods knew what Darrow would have to say about all of this. Perhaps this will speed up the process of your return home if the royals deem you unsafe for Erilea, or the decision could lead to your death. You prayed to The Mother that this meeting would go well.