#dad!azriel

It was nothing short of humiliating turning up at the base of the House of Wind almost two months after that—now infamous—night you brought the Shadowsinger back to your apartment under the dark of night to have your ways with one another.

In your shaking hand you clutched the notes from the healing centre in town which confirmed your diagnosis: pregnant. 

You took all of five of the 10,000 stairs before craning your neck to look up at your awful situation. 

You’re not sure how one might summon the Spymaster of the Night Court; you’ve never had to do it before. From what you’ve gathered, he just sort of… appeared in places that he was needed. 

You wondered momentarily if there was a way to tell him he was needed on the 9,995th step of the House of Wind. 

And then a shadow appeared.

Just one. 

Your entire body flushed violently, the sight of it flooding you with sinful memories of the last time you interacted with the devilish little things. You tucked your wrists behind your back. 

“Hello again,” you greeted, wincing when you realized you were speaking to a fucking shadow.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to think any less of you for it.

“I, uhm, well… I was hoping to speak with your master,” you explained poorly. “Could you, uh, tell him I’m here? Please?”

Your neck almost cracked under the speed at which you craned it to watch the tiny thing go flying back up in the direction of the House of Wind, letting your head fall again once it disappeared over the cliff's edge. 

Not a moment later, the Shadowsinger materialized a few steps ahead of you.

You’re not proud of it, but you startled—big time. Shrieking, you took a step back and nearly lost your footing.

You were saved by a firm grip on your wrist and a few shadows at your back.

You flushed again.

“Sorry, sorry,” you breathed, quickly righting yourself and nervously brushing your skirts down. 

“Don’t be,” Azriel countered. “I’m sorry for startling you.” 

“I- well, I didn’t really know how else to contact you, I- I’m sorry for just…showing up.”

“Don’t be,” he repeated, brows furrowing as his shadows rioted around him; if he didn’t already sniff the pregnancy on you his shadows were definitely about to break the news on your behalf. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted, hoping to beat them to it. Some might consider it brave, perhaps, if you didn’t keep your gaze glued on the siphon on his chest instead of his face. “I…I found out a week ago I-”

You pulled the papers out from behind your back, looking down at them instead. 

“I’m sorry to just…spring this on you. I- I don’t, you know, expect anything from you? I know we don’t know each other well. I just didn’t want you to… to find out from someone else, or- or if we bumped into each other, I just-” You heaved a breath, suddenly feeling as though you actually had made the 10,000 step trip up the side of the mountain. “-I just wanted to let you know myself.”

After a few moments of silence you braved a look up to the Illyrian who was frozen on the spot; the only signs of life were the shadows flying around him and his siphons glowing ominously. 

His face was drawn, nearly pale; fear and concern evident as his eyes searched yours for any clues as to how to react to this. 

You winced, shaking your head in silent apology; you’d reacted much the same a week-or-so before.

You found out later that much of his concern was based on his sister-in-law’s pregnancy with a winged babe, but unlike the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you still have connections to the Spring Court, many of whom have managed to befriend their human neighbours.

Learning about a surgery called the cesarean section fixed the problem of wingless females giving birth to winged babes.

The fear, though? Well, if his fear was about being a father or being stuck with you for the rest of his life, he never did tell you. 

He simply just started letting himself into your apartment. 

“Azriel,” you chide after successfully rolling out of bed—a feat despite the fact that your bump hasn’t nearly hit maximum capacity yet. “You just let yourself into people’s homes now?”

He hardly pauses his current task of unpacking a bag to look at you over his shoulder. “Hey. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m pretty sure this is considered breaking and entering,” you offer instead of answering, perching on a stool to watch him work. 

“I haven’t broken anything,” he says. “And I knocked.”

You snort. “You’re generally supposed to wait for someone to answer the door, Shadowsinger.” 

His wings tighten against his back, the only sign he feels any embarrassment. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he explains carefully. 

You groan, rolling your neck. “I’ve been sleeping too much lately.” 

“Not too much,” he argues, turning and placing a plate of peanut-butter and banana toast in front of you. You must wrinkle your nose—or maybe his shadows tattle on you—because the plate barely meets the table before he’s whisking it away from you. “You need the rest. Is banana still a no-go?” 

“Sorry,” you sigh in confirmation, swallowing around your gag reflex. “I was hoping we’d be over this by now.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll make you something else,” he tells you easily, reaching into a bag of groceries he must have brought with him. “Does a bagel sound okay? Maybe with cream cheese?” 

“Sure. I can make it though, Azriel.”

The Illyrian merely shakes his head no. 

You don’t succeed in convincing Azriel to make something for himself as well, but you do manage to convince him to take a quarter of the bagel he prepares for you, so you consider it a success. 

“Think you’ll be ready for the appointment with Madja shortly?” he asks after finishing his piece, brushing the poppy seeds from his hands. 

You nod, rushing to swallow your bite. “Yes, I haven’t forgotten.” This time, goes left unsaid. “You don’t have to come with me, Azriel.”

It’s not lost on you that a mere few months ago Azriel was enjoying the life of a disentangled male who could spend his evenings at Rita’s and leave with any fae brave enough to bring him home. 

Now he spends his time reverse-burglarizing your home—stocking your cupboards and feeding you despite your ever-changing tastes—and chauffeuring you to various appointments because he thought something awful happened to you after Madja reached out to him when you failed to show for your appointment on account of your baby-brain and constant napping.

Your offer seems to give him pause, finding him turning slowly to look at you. “Do you not want me to come?”

Your heart falls at the insecurity in his tone. “No I- I’d like for you to come. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to come.”

“I’d like to come,” Azriel tells you. “I’d love to come with you.”

You nod at him, offering a tight smile. “Okay. Thank you.” 

He shakes his head again. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

“I just don’t know how I’d be doing this without your help.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” he says plainly, wiping down the counter of your apartment like this was all just the most simple thing in the world. 

Your sinuses sting. 

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” you ask, wiping at your eyes before he can see you doing something embarrassing like crying. "I know I locked the door behind me."

One of his shadows circles your wrist as if in answer; Azriel’s only response is the humour in his eyes as he brings a glass of water to his lips.

You merely shake your head, grateful that he uses that particular skill on you for good rather than evil. 

“Ugh,” Melanie groaned, flinging herself back in Azriel’s hold. He barely flinched. “I can do both. I can talk and I can listen. And she was just saying boring stuff anyway.” 

“Boring stuff?” 

“Stuff I already know about! High People. Like what mommy told me about.” 

Azriel turned his attention to you, his shadows offering a distraction for Melanie. You raised your brows from behind the apothecary counter and hung up the dried herbs you’d been working on. 

It had been a couple of weeks since you told Azriel about your past. He’d asked a few follow-up questions in the time in between, but nothing too serious. To be fair, you were too busy kissing him to allow any deep epiphanies to arise. And when you weren’t kissing him, Melanie was around with a million stories to tell. 

But that meant the topic was still fresh, an active livewire that you could tell put Azriel on edge. He was feeling only a fraction of what you’d felt over the past five years, but the roles were almost reversed now. You felt safer, and Azriel did not. 

You rounded the counter to meet the pair, fiddling with Melanie’s braid as you stepped beside Azriel. “What High People, Mel?” 

Melanie batted away the shadows and bunched up Azriel’s shirt across his chest. “The High Lords. And Lady—Miss Fern said there was one now. She said it was called pooltics.” 

“Politics?” you echoed. 

“That’s what I said. But I already knew about it,” Melanie sighed, exasperated. 

“Right,” you nodded in earnest, smiling to yourself as Azriel nudged you with his elbow. You turned to him. “I taught Melanie the basics of the people in charge. Just so she’d… be prepared with some information.” Some of the softness slipped from Azriel’s face. You sought to rectify it. “Important for any kid to know.” 

Azriel’s mouth twitched up a fraction. He leaned over and pressed his lips to your temple as Melanie gasped once more. “Anyways, I was talking to Nyx for an important reason. We were planning games for the garden ground! Mommy, I’m so excited!” 

You nodded enthusiastically and stumbled back when Melanie flung herself into your arms, Azriel moving to catch you with his chest. The small oof that left you was drowned out by Melanie’s continued squeals.

The garden ground was a popular play place for the children of Velaris, fit with an abundance of oversized lilypads and vine-wrought slides and twinkling bugs begging to be chased around. Melanie had only been a few times, but it was a perfect location to get… acquainted with Cassian. Casual. Not so focused on you and Mel. Enough space to leave if you had to. He would bring Nyx, and you and Azriel would bring Melanie. You ignored the implication of Azriel’s role in the meeting for now—the side he was entering in with. 

“Remember Mr. Cassian said maybe I could fly with him?” Melanie rambled on, hands fidgeting with excitement on your shoulders. You knocked your head back to send Azriel a pointed look. He only sheepishly smiled and let his hand run up your spine. 

“That was a maybe, Mel, okay? You’re just meeting Mr. Cassian. We have to be polite,” you gently spoke. 

Suddenly—as many five-year-olds do—Melanie’s expression became impassively confused. She scrunched her nose up and grimaced, looking above your head to Azriel. “Hey, I have a question.” 

“What’s that?” Azriel warmly replied. 

“Am I supposed to call him Mr. Cassian? I call you Mr. Azriel, but I’m not just meeting you. We meet all the time.” 

Your lips parted, and you adjusted your daughter in your arms. She didn’t look to you. Her gaze remained locked on Azriel. 

“I guess you have a point, Mel,” Azriel considered after a beat of silence. “What would you like to call him?” 

She pursed her lips. “I want to call him Mr. Cassian still.”

“Okay, you can call him that.” 

She didn’t look fully satisfied, but the conversation had run its course. Melanie blew out a breath and scampered out of your arms, launching herself up the stairs to the apartment. In her wake, Azriel called out for her not to run, but you’d tried that several times. The reprimand never worked. You shook your head lightly and went back to work at the counter, edging out the lingering nervousness at your daughter’s words. 

She’d asked you something similar last week. 

“Is Mr. Azriel your husband?” she’d asked, mouthful of dinner. 

You’d sputtered and prayed a shadow wasn’t slinking under the table. “No, sweetie. He’s not my husband. Mr. Azriel is a…” Gods, you had blanked. “Special friend?” 

Melanie’s face had split into a disgusted sort of look. “You’re supposed to kiss your friends? Yuck!” 

You’d said no and of course not and had tried to make sense of such a complicated topic to a five-year-old, but Melanie had stopped being interested about three seconds in, and you’d hoped that would be the end of it. Obviously, her curiosity was going to prevail, and you needed to find a way to make sense of all of this yourself. 

Azriel was not Melanie’s dad, and although he seemed quite content to stay in your lives for good, you were not going to force that on either of them. So this all was very precarious and confusing, and you had been stuck in your head about it for a while, enough so that you hadn’t had time to be nervous about meeting Cassian. 

Strange, what falling in love felt like. 

“She has lots of questions lately,” Azriel mused, both echoing your train of thought and startling you out of it. 

Your lashes fluttered as he leaned over to haul boxes onto the shelf above your head. “She does. Sorry, I’ve been struggling to explain this all to her. Luckily, her attention span is about the size of my pinky, so it comes and goes.” 

“We’ll see what she comes up with after meeting Cassian.” 

His tone was light, playful, but you were still feeling antsy. “Probably more about names and titles. Gods, and she might want to know more about his job and yours, too. Maybe I could try to prep her beforehand, but she has hardly any filter and—” 

“Hey,” Azriel cooed, turning your chin up between his thumb and index finger, a comforting smile warming your chest. “Are you feeling nervous about it? Having second thoughts?” 

You hadn’t been. Until now. Perhaps it was because Melanie’s line of questioning was leading dangerously close to a topic you weren’t ready to discuss. Or maybe it was just that the meeting was tomorrow and the worry was finally catching up to you. 

You shook your head in his grip. “No. No, I know it’ll be okay. You told me it would.” 

He nodded in return, eyes tracing the shape of your face. “It will be. But it would be okay, too, if you changed your mind. It can just be us. I’d be okay with that.” 

“We can’t hide away, just us three, forever. You know that, Az.” 

Azriel hummed, his thumb swiping up across your bottom lip. He leaned over, kissed you chastly, and met your eyes. “Would be nice though. I would try to make it happen.” 

Your smile was almost hidden with how close he was to you. “Melanie deserves to be known.” 

“And you.” 

“Hmm?” you breathed, eyes fluttering as you felt his breath on your lips. 

“You too. Everyone should know you.” 

He was kissing you again, this time longer, deeper. Warmth spread past your chest and into your gut as he drew you closer, chasing your lips each time you got even a centimeter away. 

That should have scared you—other people knowing you. It used to haunt your every thought. You’d lived in fear for so long, and, to be honest, it did scare you still. The wrong people knowing you would lead to disaster. To ruin. To every bad thing you’d ever thought up. 

But Azriel was here. And he was kissing you. And he was wearing a poorly-braided bracelet your daughter gave him three weeks ago. 

So fear was manageable. 

“So… am I supposed to kiss my friends, or not?” 

Azriel’s lips froze against yours and then he made a sort of grunting sound as he quickly pulled away. Melanie stood before you with an accusatory stare, her arms crossed over her chest. Only Azriel’s lips left you; apparently he was too shocked to let go of your face.  

“What?” he asked.

“Mommy says you’re a special friend. Does that mean I kiss special friends? She acted weird when I asked last time.” 

“You aren’t kissing anyone.” 

~~

“Nyx!” Melanie screamed, ricocheting out of Azriel’s casual hands on her shoulders. You’d only been waiting at the park for a couple of minutes before Cassian and Melanie’s “best friend on the planet” arrived. They collided in a fit of giggles, and Cassian steadied the pair before they toppled over. 

“Melanie! We’re outside of school!” 

“I know!” 

“We’re real best friends now!” 

Melanie whipped around, Nyx holding her firmly under his arm. His tiny wings were at an odd angle, but the boy didn’t seem to care much. An Illyrian trait then—wings coming second when something important is in their arms. 

“Can we go play?” she bounced, eyes pleading with you. 

“Yes but—hey, after we meet his Uncle Cassian, right? We have to be polite,” you stated, a spark of pride alighting when your daughter nodded with determination and stepped before the war general. 

She stuck out her hand, glitter shining on the back of it from an earlier, haphazard art project. “Hi, I’m Melanie. I know we met already, but my mommy says this is more official.” 

Cassian, who had been watching on with curious eyes, nodded to Melanie and dropped to a knee. “Pleasure to officially meet you then.” He shook her hand in both of his. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Melanie nodded, eyes wide. 

“I’m a little jealous, actually. Azriel keeps walking around with that bracelet, and Nyx has one too. Do you think you could make me one? I’d pay for it.” 

“You’d pay me? Money?” Melanie blinked, turning to you with raised brows. You pressed your lips together in a smile and nodded her on. “Sure. I’ve never had my own money before. My mommy always lets me use hers.” 

“Perfect. Next time we meet, then. I’ll have coin.” 

Melanie turned to Nyx, joining hands before running off with an abundance of babbling sounds you could hardly make out. They were mostly talking about money and buying more string, but you weren’t sure they were actually listening to each other. They reached the structure twining with branches, and you finally felt somewhat free from the screeching. 

“Offering a child money, Cassian?” Azriel quipped, standing close beside you. “I didn’t think you needed to be liked so badly.” 

Cassian chuckled, his wings pressed in tight to his back, his posture unimposing as he smiled. “She’d like me without the money, it’s just a little extra.” Cassian’s smile became softer then, turning his head to you. “That is, if you’re alright with it. I should have asked before.” 

It was easier with the kids as a buffer, you realized, and because this was so meticulously planned out. Azriel had gone to great lengths to make you feel comfortable, and Cassian was clearly making himself smaller, trying to make you less afraid of what he couldn’t understand. 

It was never about him, really, but you appreciated the effort. 

You swiped a hand through the air. “I’m okay with it. I have no idea what she would need money for, though. Azriel has a terrible habit of buying her anything she sets her eyes on.” 

Azriel blushed profusely. “Well, I—” 

“A soft spot for you, Az?” Cassian teased. He looked out at the grounds. “Hey, I get it. If I had—” Cassian paused. He cleared his throat slightly, lingering gaze back on you. “Maybe we should… officially meet, too? I was a little aggressive about it before.” 

He hadn’t been. He had been nice and courteous and you had run away in a fit of flustered fear, but he was being incredibly gracious about it. You smiled and didn’t call out the lie. 

You stuck out your hand, sans any of the glitter that Melanie had offered, speaking your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassian. Sorry the first time was strange.” 

He shook your hand gently, smiling and appraising you with a furrow to his brow. “Wasn’t strange. I’ve seen stranger. Especially from him.” He nodded up at the Shadowsinger hovering at your back. 

Azriel raised an unimpressed brow. “Need I remind you what it was like living with you and Nesta?” 

“Comparing mate stories?” Cassian smirked. 

Your lashes fluttered at the casual sound of the title. You still hadn’t felt the bond yourself, but being Azriel’s mate felt fresh and novel. And, to Azriel, it was still raw. He grumbled under his breath and stepped forward, shadows overtaking half of your form. Cassian raised his hands in surrender. 

“Still too soon? Sorry, sorry. Let’s just talk. Don’t want to get socked in the face trying to get to know her,” Cassian jested. 

The next hour was spent discussing your shop and Cassian’s legions. You learned more about Nesta and told stories about Melanie when she was a baby. Cassian asked about Azriel’s relationship with her, and Azriel’s hands twitched in his lap whenever you stumbled over your words, trying to give information without revealing too much. Cassian never pushed too far, and for that, you were grateful once more. 

Eventually, Nyx and Melanie huffed back to the benches where you sat, red-faced and out of breath. Melanie slumped over Azriel’s legs, and you rebraided her wild hair while Nyx chugged a box of juice. Melanie chatted more with Cassian as you went, and you saw the man glance between her and Azriel several times. At how he was looking at her with rapt attention, eyes edging with fondness. How she sat up in his lap when you were finished, one hand clutching the sleeve of his shirt, the other flailing in the air as she explained something nonsensical. 

Melanie was comfortable talking to Cassian, but she was seemingly at home with Azriel. 

Granted, you figured Melanie would be comfortable with anyone; she was a very outgoing girl with a lot to say. You hadn’t seen her shy away from anyone. Not yet. Not until a third voice entered the conversation, your name lingering in the air and making your head snap to the side. 

The man said your name once more, this time with soft disbelief. His red hair swayed in the cool air, eye swirling as it focused on you. 

“Lucien?” you breathed out. 

He stood frozen, mouth parting in shock. You rose from the bench before realizing, stumbling on nothing. Behind you, safe in Azriel’s lap, Melanie was silent. 

“Are you—How are you here?” he asked, shaking his head. 

“I-I left. I wrote you. Or I tried, but I wasn’t sure you were getting anything in Spring.” 

“I didn’t. I would have replied. Did you… does he know—” 

Your expression faltered, hasty to cut him off. “No one knows where I am. I ran. Years ago.” 

“I hadn’t heard anything,” Lucien revealed, still frozen as you took another step forward. “I thought that nothing was finalized when there weren’t any announcements. He—there was no word that you ran.” 

That was… surprising. You’d expected Beron to utilize Spring in his hunt for you, but apparently, you had underestimated his need to save face. His pride. 

You opened your mouth to explain more, to make sense of things, when a body pressed to yours cut you off. It smelled like home now, but not the home that reeked of loneliness and desperation. No, it smelled like crisp air and a lingering fire and spices. It smelled like Lucien sneaking you dessert when you weren’t allowed to stay past dinner and playing in the garden past midnight. 

Sometimes, rarely, Autumn did feel like home. 

“I’m so happy you got out,” Lucien whispered , his hold on you strong. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do it myself.” 

Wind whipped at your clothes, and you fought off the burn in your waterline as low voices muttered behind you. You remembered, then, that you had an audience, but for some reason, you didn’t really mind.

“You said me and Lucien,” you heard Cassian rush out in a whisper. 

“I didn’t mean today,” Azriel hissed back. 

“Well, you should have been clearer.” 

A laugh was working its way up your chest, completely cut off by Azriel’s next words. “Mel, wait. No, sweetheart—” 

The tug on your skirt had you pulling away from Lucien and looking down at your daughter with a feeling of fullness. She stared up at you, and then shyly glanced at Lucien. Never one to be shy. Until now. 

You’d almost forgotten Lucien was in the dark about her. His eye buzzed as he found her, and he snapped to you with a questioning gaze. You kneeled to pick her up, Melanie’s head resting in the juncture of your shoulder instantly. 

“This is Melanie,” you introduced, bouncing her slightly, like Azriel loved to do. “My daughter.”

Another flash of shock on your brother’s face. He tried to clear it to appear more inviting, but it echoed in his confused smile. “Hello, Melanie. I’m Lucien.” 

“Hi,” she softly replied.

He stared at her then, brows coming together, so many questions lingering. He would ask them later.

“Lucien is your uncle,” you whispered into Melanie’s hair.

She rose slightly at that, whispering back, “Like how Nyx has Mr. Cassian? And Mr. Azriel?” 

You hummed out an affirmation. Her face became bright. She considered him carefully, and you thought the next words out of her mouth would be about his eyes. They weren’t. 

“You have hair like mine,” she stated, reaching forward with tentative fingers.

He leaned his head down, allowing her to play with the end of a braid. “It’s because of where we’re from.” 

~~

Later in the evening, Azriel held Melanie’s sleeping form as you walked back home. She was breathing gently against his neck, and he wound his free hand through yours. The sky was dim but otherwise alight with oranges and reds with the waning sun. More reminders of one version of home. 

“Cassian will make guesses,” you mused, a feeling of contentment glowing within you. Only a small hint of fear remained. Maybe it would come back in full force tomorrow, but for today, you relished in the calm. 

“He might. But he wouldn’t say anything. Not until you’re ready. If you ever are.”

“One day, maybe.” You swung his hand. “I didn’t know I was seeing him today. Lucien, I mean.” 

Azriel ran his thumb over your knuckle. “I apologize for that. Cassian was confused.” 

“I’m glad I did. I—I can’t thank you enough for everything, Azriel. I’ve been scared for a long time.” 

Azriel stopped you, searching your face on the streets of Velaris. He brought his hand to your cheek, still balancing Melanie on his chest. “I’d never let anything happen to you. To either of you.” 

“I know,” you smiled up at him. “That’s why I’m thanking you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” 

Melanie shifted, making small noises as she woke. She clutched her arms around his neck and said something that sounded like a question. With the proximity, you rested a hand on her back as Azriel reassured her. 

“We’re going home, Mel. Go back to sleep. We can talk more in the morning,” he softly told her. 

“What are you guys talking about right now?” she grumbled out, words half-slurred. 

“We’ll tell you in the morning,” you calmed. 

She hummed. “Can I see everyone again soon?” 

“Of course, but you have to go back to sleep first.” 

Melanie seemed appeased, finally. She shifted on Azriel’s collarbone and sighed sleepily. You and Azriel watched her carefully, willing her back to sleep. She was almost there, the throes of it tugging her back down. 

But she mumbled one last thing, and it was impossible to ignore. 

“Night, daddy.” 

Her little hands clenched in the neck of his shirt, and Azriel’s wide eyes met yours. 

The faint sound of your baby’s cries tugged you from sleep, sharp enough to crack through your haze. You barely shifted, but the warmth of Azriel’s side of the bed was already gone.

The cries softened almost instantly, replaced by the quiet creak of floorboards down the hall. You waited, listening, and soon his voice drifted back to you—low, warm, and steady. The lullaby was unfamiliar, some half-remembered tune he must've learned long ago, the words barely more than a murmur. He wasn’t just soothing the baby; he was pouring every ounce of comfort he had into each note, like he could will peace into the air itself.

When the cries stopped, you expected him to come back to bed. Instead, you heard the soft shuffle of his footsteps pacing back and forth, rhythmic and slow. Curious, you dragged yourself out of bed, following the faint glow down the hall.

Azriel stood in the middle of the nursery, your baby cradled against his bare chest. His hair was a mess, falling over his forehead in dark, unruly strands. Those plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips, and the dim light carved out the hard lines of his back, shoulders, and wings as he swayed side to side. There was something about him in that moment—his strong frame, the quiet patience in his movements, the sheer devotion in the way he held your child—that left you breathless. Love swelled inside you, tangled with a heat that caught you off guard, fierce and undeniable.

He must’ve felt you watching because he glanced over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still warm. Wordlessly, he shifted the baby to one arm and crossed the room to you. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm, his breath brushing soft against your skin.

"I’ve got it," he murmured, voice rough from sleep.

You lingered for a moment, heart full, before padding back to bed. The scent of him clung to your pillow—cedar, smoke, and the faintest trace of milk from where the baby had nuzzled against his chest.

"You have wings like a bat." She stated, shoving her stuffed bat, that she received from Mor for her first birthday, in his face. "See?"

He took the toy and looked at it with faux scrutiny. "Oh? I can see the resemblance."

"So does Uncle Cass and Uncle Rhys and Nyxie and Aunt Nesta's babe!"

"You are an astute observer, little shadow. And if Uncle Cass or Uncle Rhys ask, remind them that I have the biggest wingspan. But yes, there are many people in this family who have wings similar to bats. Did you know that there are also people who have feathered wings?"

The hazel eyes she inherited from him, widened in childlike wonder. It softened Azriel's heart just knowing that he took part in creating something as wonderful as her with the magnificent female a room away. "May I meet one, daddy?"

Azriel adjusted the blankets underneath her chin and smoothed a hand over her forehead. "They live far, far, far away from here. Do you remember me telling you that story of the Seraphim's? Of Miriam and Drakon?"

Black brows scrunched in an attempt to recall anything about that subject.

She gasped, "I remember! That they live on an island in the middle of the ocean?"

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips at what she remembered. "Their people have the feathered wings."

"Like birds?"

He chuckled quietly. "Yes, little shadow."

"Do you think they sing like birds?"

"I imagine, in a different way, they do."

Just when he believed she was about to close her eyes, she opened her mouth again.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"If you have bat wings does that mean you sleep upside down?"

Before he could stop himself, Azriel barked out a laugh. The unexpected, yet completely innocent, question even causing his shadows to bob in amusement.

He regained his composure and pressed a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, one of the lovely attributes she received from you. "Surprisingly, I do not sleep upside down. As for your Uncle Cass... you'll have to ask him the next time he's around."

She scrunched her nose in disappointment. "Why are you such a boring bat, daddy?"

"A question for another time. For now, you should be sleeping; I promised your mother I'd have you zonked out in no time and I mean to keep my word. I love you."

"Love you." She mumbled through her yawn.

Moments later, Azriel stepped out of her room, stationing a couple of shadows by her side, and left to go sleep himself.

He found you lying on the bed, book in hands and clothed in an old shirt of his. His favorite attire of yours, besides being naked. You lifted your eyes from the words in front of you and met his. "How'd she do?"

"You have quite the chatty daughter. She was barraging me with all sorts of questions and even some insults. Are you sure you didn't have some secret tryst with Cassian when she was conceived?"

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly. "She's all yours, I assure you. And just what was she asking you about to have you roaring like that?"

Azriel considered the canopy of the bed. "She asked me if I slept upside down, like a bat."

He raised an arm to tug on it, testing it. "On a completely unrelated note, how strong do you think this frame is?"

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

For the past half hour, you had been pacing through the townhouse, your baby wailing incessantly in your arms. You had tried everything: a tighter swaddle, rocking, feeding, singing—nothing seemed to help. If anything, her cries had only intensified. Looking down at her little face, you took a deep breath, struggling to keep your frustration in check. 

Exhausted from the relentless crying, you decided it was time to pull out all the stops. You made your way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, recalling how the mix of soothing sounds, hot water, and your body heat had calmed your baby after a particularly messy diaper incident. You quickly stripped, wrestling with your little one's flailing arms and taking care not to disturb her delicate wings. Carefully, you pressed her against your chest and stepped under the spray, letting the warm water hit your back first. As you gently bounced her, the intensity of her screams began to lessen.

You exhaled deeply as the screams subsided into soft gurgles and babbling sounds. Humming gently, you hoped the vibrations from your chest would lull her back to sleep. Just then, Azriel peeked into the steam-filled bathroom. His hair was tousled from sleep, and dressed in just his underwear and t-shirt, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Seeing you with the baby, he offered a knowing smile. As you continued to gently bounce and rock your little one, you returned his smile, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. 

Azriel wandered over, easing the glass shower door open to run his hand gently over the back of your baby's head.

"I can take over," he offered.

You managed a tired smile. "You were up with her just an hour ago, it’s okay."

His eyes remained fixed on your little one. "Do you think she’s sick? She’s not usually this fussy."

"I’m not sure," you replied, continuing to bounce her. "There’s no cough, no fever."

He pondered for a moment. "Maybe the steam from the shower is soothing her."

"Maybe," you conceded, brushing damp hair from your face and tracing your finger soothingly up and down your baby’s back. "It could just be the warmth and the sound that’s comforting her."

Your little one fussed in your arms, letting out a soft whine before it escalated into a wail. "Oh no," you murmured, quickening the pace of your rocking.

Without a word, Azriel pulled his shirt over his head, stripped down, and joined you in the shower, closing the glass door behind him. He wrapped his arms around both of you, allowing your baby to nestle between your bodies. He rested his chin on your head and swayed gently from side to side as you shushed your baby's cries.

Feeling her father's presence against her back seemed to calm her slightly; her whimpers softened and she began to close her eyes.

"When was the last time you fed her?" Azriel whispered, his hands drawing soothing lines along your back.

"About fifteen minutes ago, but she wasn't interested," you replied, gently kissing the top of her head as you continued to sway together in the warm embrace of the shower.

"Do you want to take her to Madja tomorrow? Just to get her checked. Even if it's just sleep regression, it couldn't hurt," Azriel suggested.

You looked down at your babe, nestled between your chest and Azriel's, her tiny pink lips parting softly as she breathed, finally seeming to drift to sleep.

"Maybe," you murmured after a moment.

Azriel reached behind and turned off the water, then pulled a warm towel from above the shower to wrap around you and your daughter. She let out a soft groan but remained asleep. Azriel hugged both of you again, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as you leaned against his shoulder.

"You’re a wonderful mother," he whispered.

You scoffed lightly, "I wish I knew what to do."

"You're doing everything you can. We both are. She’s just an enigma."

You chuckled, letting him towel-dry your hair. "I thought they weren’t supposed to be this complicated until they were at least fifty."

"I think it’s funny that you thought, with me as a dad and you as her mom, we wouldn’t end up with a moody, complicated little one."

You looked up at him, noticing how the water traced paths down his broad shoulders and chest. He was stunning—the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, and he was all yours. Together, you had created the most incredible little being, with your eyes and Azriel’s black hair, now just beginning to grow in. You carefully dabbed the towel on her tiny, damp curls that seemed to curl even more when wet.

Azriel slid open the shower door and steadied you as you stepped out. He quickly dried off and slipped back into his shirt and shorts, while you gently patted your babe dry. Once dressed, he extended his arms toward her. “Here, let me take her so you can get dressed.” You handed her over, and although she squirmed a bit, she remained asleep in her father’s arms. Azriel swayed gently, bringing his nose close to breathe in her scent—a beautiful mix of both of you that you both loved.

While you dried off, Azriel walked back to your shared bedroom. By the time you were dressed and followed him, you found Azriel lying in bed, your daughter resting on his chest. Her tiny arms and legs splayed out, gripping his shirt. Azriel’s hands were lazily draped over her back, his lips slightly parted. In sleep, father and daughter had never looked more alike.

husband!Azriel who prepares hastily for the arrival of your baby girl

husband!Azriel who makes sure the nursery is in order and she has all the stuffed animals she could ever want

husband!Azriel who starts talking more and more to your pregnant belly every day just to make sure his daughter knows how much her daddy loves her

husband!Azriel who tries to act calm and collected when your water breaks but is absolutely petrified on the inside

husband!Azriel who talk you through everything. Always making sure you have a hand to hold

husband!Azriel who is terrified of you dying bringing his baby girl into the world. He saw how Feyre almost died giving birth to Nyx. He hopes his side won’t have to go through the same

husband!Azriel who weeps once he sees his little girl

husband!Azriel who vows to protect you and your baby no matter what

husband!Azriel who cries the first night seeing your little girl in her nursery

husband!Azriel who didn’t leave the nursery for five days straight until you dragged him to bed on the sixth night

husband!Azriel who loves seeing you feed his child (in more ways than one)

husband!Azriel who fears the day his little girl won’t be so little anymore

Azriel and you had been trying to have a babe for a while. While the only people in the Inner Circle who had a child was Rhys and Feyre, you have been mated for hundreds of years and were beyond ready. 

Having children was something you had to have many lengthy discussions about first. Azriel’s trauma with his family as a child and your own trauma being an Illyrian women whose wings got clipped before being cast out of your home only too be found and taken in by Rhys’s his mother, were all things you both had to think about before even considering bringing a babe in this world. That’s not even mentioning the war you and all of your loved ones fought in and somehow survived. However, seeing Feyre and Rhy being amazing parents to their son, and just seeing Nyx in general, has confirmed what you both have wanted for a while. 

But, as much as you both wanted a child, it just did not happen. It’s been years since you started trying, and as much as you love to be with Azriel intimately, it started to feel more like a task rather than something fun. There have been a few nights that Azriel has woken up because you forgot to close the bond and was flooded with your feelings of self-loathing. All he could do was cup your tearstained face and whisper reassuring and loving words to you. You blamed yourself and as much as Azriel denied it, those thoughts just didn’t go away.

After the third night of that happening, both you and Azriel decided to just stop trying. Of course you both would continue to not take the tonic, but your goal while being intimate was no longer having a baby, it was to enjoy each other. After a time, sex was pleasurable again, your mindset improved, and while you did have moments of self doubt, Azriel was always there for you as you were for him. Similarly, your family was amazing the entire time. While Azriel and you were fairly private about the situation, you didn’t hide what was going on with them. Their support helped you heal, both of you. It’s been a few years since then, Nyx was now six and it is true that time heals all wounds. 

Azriel was the one who noticed it first. The sun was starting to rise, light beginning to stream through the window of Azriel and your shared bedroom. It was one of those rare occasions that neither of you had to go anywhere that morning, however, Azriel was so used to being up before the sun that he was already awake. Your face was peaceful as you slept, your bare figure tangled in the sheets, and the only noise heard was your soft breathing. His hazel eyes watched your calm face, all the while having his shadows watch both of your surroundings. Weirdly enough, his shadows also kept brushing over you, almost like they were scared to let you out of their grip. It reminded him of when you first mated, at least one of his shadows had to be with you at all times once both of you got out of the frenzy.

There was something different, something unusual that Azriel could sense that made him feel uneasy, but not on edge. It bothered him, however, as your eyes fluttered open and you shifted your body to face your mate, it hit him. Well, your scent hit him. Before, the room smelled of the previous night’s activities, but with your change in position, he could now make out that your scent has changed. It was subtle, but the slight sweetness in the air was all that was needed to figure out what was so strange. 

Azriel’s face was the first thing you saw as you woke up. Despite being able to mask how he’s feeling extremely well, his slightly widened eyes, along with the millions of thoughts running rampant behind them, were all telltale signs that he was in shock. 

You hum curiously before speaking.

“What is it?” you question while reaching up to cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. You could feel the coolness of his shadows brushing all over your body, it was comforting yet slightly unusual to wake up to. 

“You're pregnant.” 

Sitting up suddenly, as if a bucket of ice water had been spilt on you, you look at him bewildered.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

A grin filled with pure joy took over his face as he answered you once again. 

“You’re pregnant.”

All you could feel was disbelief and elation. You could now tell that your scent was different and all you could do was look at your husband, your mate, incredulously. His deep laugh fills the room, only further showing his happiness. You beam at him as he lifts you in his arms and settles you on his lap. His bare skin felt warm against yours, and the chill that continued to brush over you from the shadows felt perfect against you. The only time you’ve felt this overjoyed was when you found out you were mated to Azriel. You brush your lips against his as he cups your face, brushing away the tears you didn’t know were falling. 

You knew things were going to change from that point on. You knew how male got when their mate was pregnant, how protective they became. You saw first hand when Feyre was pregnant with Nyx, she could never move more than a few feet away before Rhys was next to her once again, and if a stranger came up to her, everyone could feel the power he unleashed to get them away. Rhys had mentioned it was similar to how males are after first being mated, but also said that that is nothing compared to how protective he felt of his mate carrying his child.