#headcanonheadcase

Ummmm…I got no idea Jen

Yes, you certainly can!!!!

you’re always so sweet!

aww this is so cute! thank you 🥹🫶

“Nesta.” Azriel’s shadows pressed closer, drifting from the tips of his wings to his shoulders. He gestured to the bench in front of the pianoforte. “Sit.” Nesta didn’t dare tell him that she was dreadfully out of practice playing any instrument—or that she had never been very good at it anyway. He would find that out soon enough if he insisted on making her play. He didn’t say anything, though, waiting until she took a seat to lower himself to the other side of the bench. He rested his hands on the cover over the keys, serious and silent. Nesta couldn’t help but stare at those long fingers, at the twisted, gnarled scar tissue that shone in the low light. Didn't it hurt him to play? Or was playing an instrument like this somehow pleasant, a relief not unlike the way it felt to fall into a slow, mindful series of stretches after a brutal workout left her muscles tight and sore? Azriel tilted his head to look at her. “Before we begin, you must understand that they will try to tell you these powers are valuable.” His voice was a low, grave thrum in the air between them. He spoke so quietly that Nesta had to lean closer to hear him clearly, and she didn't doubt it was an intentional move on his part. “And if they believe you are training with them again..." A shadow darkened his features. "They will try to convince you that they are being wasted if you do not use them. That you are wasted if you do not use them. When conflict comes, they will attempt to coerce you into using them as a weapon.” His eyes pinned Nesta. “As they already have before." That look that said more than he verbalized, and Nesta was distantly aware that she was beginning to shiver. It was the closest anyone had come to condemning the way her powers had been used during the war, to denouncing... Pathetic waste of life. Nesta clamped down on the flinch that threatened to rock her and narrowed her eyes at him instead. "They?" His chin dipped. It was all the answer he gave. It was answer enough. She loosed a breath, sitting back as the weight of that censure - so rare, so unexpected, from anyone within Rhysand's inner circle - settled. "These powers are not where your value lies. You are not a weapon. If my suspicions are correct, then these powers are your companion. Your protector. They exist to comfort you and keep you safe, not to help you serve others.” The words were a low, cold snarl now, and something cold and ancient and hurt flashed across his expression. "I coaxed my shadows out of the darkness. You tore your fire from the Cauldron. They belong to us." He didn't look at her, didn't wait for a reaction, though her hand was reaching across the empty space between them. But Azriel merely shifted on the bench as her fingers brushed his arm, turning his attention back to the pianoforte. The ice in his expression melted back into the blank-faced mien she knew so well.  "Do you understand?" Nesta nodded, but his eyes slid to hers as he stayed frozen in that preternatural Fae stillness until murmured a quiet, "Yes,” to lift the cover over the keys. “Then let’s begin.”

Archer and Bree from Archer's voice. Ik they got their HEA but babies deserved way better than how the world treated them🥺 Glad they found each other 😌❤️