#hidden mate

The inner circle wasn’t supposed to know. 

Not yet anyway. 

Azriel had kept you under wraps not that it was that difficult honestly.

Keeping the knowledge of his mate hidden.

He’d been doing it for almost 5 years now. 

It all came to a stop however, when at Ritas there you were. 

In his clothing. His jacket while absolutely the statement piece of your outfit, wreaked of him. 

He wasn’t aware you would be here. 

Drunk. With your friends, surrounded by his smell. His shadows. 

It was Mor who noticed you first. 

Pointing out the shadows that you danced with and laughed with on the dance floor. 

Cassian and Rhys narrowed their eyes in suspicion, maybe he could pass it off as being tipsy. He wasn’t and they all knew that. 

You spotting him wasn’t part of his plan either, yet here you were walking towards him without a care in the world. 

Sitting down next to him, while his friends gave him looks that screamed that this would be a whole conversation for later. 

“I love your jacket!” 

It was Mor who baited you into talking first. 

The love in your eyes, the admiration, spoke before you could. 

“My mate.” The two words were all the confirmation that anyone needed. 

Feyra pried further asking how long you and your mate had been together, how you met. 

You don’t hesitate.

Not even for a second.

Lean into him like it’s instinct.

Like it’s home.

“Five years.”

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

Cassian chokes on his drink.

Rhys goes still.

Feyre’s eyes flicker just once to Azriel.

Then back to you.

“Five?” she repeats, softer now. Not accusing.

Just… processing.

You nod, like it’s obvious.

Like this isn’t a bomb you just dropped into the middle of their table.

“Just about,” you hum, adjusting the sleeve of the jacket. His jacket like you’ve worn it a hundred times.

Because you have.

Azriel hasn’t said a word.

Not one.

But his shadows……

They’ve lost whatever restraint they had left.

Curled around your wrists.

Your shoulders.

Your waist.

Possessive.

Familiar.

Mor leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes bright with something dangerously close to delight.

“And he didn’t tell us?”

Your brows pinch.

Confusion.

Real confusion.

“You didn’t tell them?”

You turn to him fully now.

Finally.

And there it is

That crack in his composure.

Small.

But devastating.

Azriel exhales.

Slow.

Measured.

Like he’s choosing every piece of this moment carefully.

“No,” he says quietly.

Rhys lets out a sharp breath half laugh, half disbelief.

“You hid your mate from us for five years?”

Azriel’s jaw ticks.

“It wasn’t your business.”

The words land flat.

Controlled.

But you feel it.

The tension threading through him.

Through the bond.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him.

Not upset.

Not really.

Just… curious.

“You said it was safer.”

And that…..

That shifts the room.

Feyre straightens.

Cassian’s humor drops.

Rhys’s eyes sharpen.

“Safer?” he echoes.

Azriel finally looks at you.

Really looks.

Like he’s weighing whether he regrets this.

Whether he regrets you being here.

He doesn’t.

You can feel that much.

Clear as day.

“I did,” he admits.

Your fingers curl lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

Grounding.

Familiar.

“Still is?”

Soft.

But it cuts.

Because now it matters.

Now there are witnesses.

Azriel’s shadows tighten around you.

Like a warning.

Like a promise.

“No,” he says.

And this time

There’s no hesitation.

The night continues with the group of friends giving rapid fire questions, rapid looks between the shadowsinger and you. 

When you finally seem to be getting tired, Azerial offers to walk you home. 

Taking the offer you wave goodbye to the group of warriors. 

The shadows circling your waist, and your legs being the last piece of confirmation that the group needed. Not that there was any doubt in the group about your confession. 

The night air is crisp against your face, the liquor finally waning out of your system some. 

Leaning into the spymaster for balance while walking, you break the silence. 

“I didn’t know you would be there tonight, I know you didn’t want them to know, I wasn’t…… I wasn’t thinking.” 

Azerial pulls you in tighter.

“They would have figured it out eventually.” 

You nod. Understanding that the male that holds you is quiet. 

“A thought for a thought?” 

The question gives Azerial pause. He laughs a bit. Pausing in the street just in front of the bridge. The place that you met. The place that the bond snapped five years ago. 

“Cassian is never going to let me live this down. Mor won’t either.” 

The words hung in the air. Azerial looks at you expectantly. Sucking in a breath you give him a thought of your own. 

“I wasn’t thinking, I know I said that already but…….” 

Your eyes drift up to the sky and then to the male in front of you. 

“It would be nice to be yours. Openly, in public. Finally be able to walk to the bakery in the morning with my hand in yours.” 

The words get softer as you speak. 

Azeral thinks for a moment letting the confession sink in. The weight of what you didn’t say sinking in. 

“I’m not ashamed of you, my love. Never. Not in this life or the next. I just……” 

His words die out, the whole emotions bit being something that the two of you have been working on. 

“I didn’t…. I don’t want you to become a target. There's nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe. No one that I wouldn’t wipe off the map to ensure your next breath.” 

You laugh causing his brows to fur in confusion. 

“Well…… I don’t think that you have to worry about your friends.” 

Azerial huffs out a small laugh. 

“I don’t.” 

He cups your cheek, smiling a bit. 

“Mor is going to drag you dress shopping now. Cassian will probably try to get you to spar. I don’t even want to think of the chaos that you and Feyra will get into.” 

You close your eyes leaning into his palm.

“That doesn’t sound that bad.” 

Azeral laughs, “Just you wait, it doesn’t sound bad now, but they can be…… a lot.” 

You don’t pull away.

Not from his hand.

Not from the warmth of him.

Even as the night settles around you, quiet and still. 

Different than before.

Azriel watches you.

Really watches you.

Like he’s seeing something he’s been avoiding, something he’s been denying himself.

“They’re going to want to meet you properly,” he says after a moment.

You open your eyes.

There’s no fear there.

Just curiosity.

“Okay.”

That word again.

Simple.

Steady.

Unshaken.

His brows pull together slightly.

“You keep saying that like it doesn’t change anything.”

You tilt your head.

“It doesn’t.” You smile a little, waiting a second before continuing, “It just means I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

That hits deeper than anything you said before.

Because you never complained.

Never pushed.

Never asked for more than what he gave.

Now, now you’re standing here, asking for something so small it shouldn’t feel this big.

His fingers flex slightly against your cheek.

“You should have said something.” He says the words quietly, sounding almost regretful.

You turn and kiss his palm, before looking back up at him. “You weren’t ready to hear it.”

No accusation.

Just the truth.

Azriel exhales slowly.

Like something in his chest just shifted out of place. Not out of place, settling. 

His forehead presses to yours again.

“If I had told them,” he murmurs, “this would have happened sooner.”

You hum lightly.

“Yeah.”

“And you would have been pulled into everything.”

“The horror,” you tease softly.

He huffs a quiet breath against your skin.

His other hand finds your hip, his shadows dance at your feet, and his wings curl just slightly around you. 

“You don’t understand what being tied to me means,” he says.

There’s no ego in it.

No arrogance.

Just… fact.

You don’t argue.

Don’t brush it off.

You just look at him.

“I understand enough, and I chose you anyway.” 

That lands.

Hard.

Because that’s the piece he never gave you.

The full picture.

The danger.

The weight.

You chose him without it.

Azriel goes still. Not with tension but with something quieter, heavier than before. Pulling away to look at you properly, his hand still on your cheek. 

“You didn’t choose,” he says slowly. “The bond….”

“I did.”

You cut him off, the interruption gentle but firm. 

“I stayed,” you continue.

“I didn’t run.”

Your hand comes up.

Resting over his where it still cups your face.

“I didn’t hide from you…… I waited,” you finish.

Soft.

But unshakable.

The truth of it settles between you.

Five years.

Of choosing him.

Every day.

Azriel’s breath leaves him slowly.

Like he’s just realizing the full weight of that.

Of you.

His thumb brushes your cheek again.

More deliberate this time.

More… certain.

“I’m done hiding you.”

It’s not loud.

Not dramatic.

But it means everything.

You search his face.

Just to be sure.

“Even when Cassian won’t shut up?”

A ghost of a smile, playing on your lips. 

“Especially then.”

“Even when Mor starts planning things I didn’t agree to?”

“She already has.”

You laugh softly.

“Even when Rhys starts asking scary High Lord questions?”

His expression shifts.

Just slightly.

More serious.

“He will.”

You shrug slightly “I’ll survive.”

Azriel studies you for a long moment.

Like he’s committing this version of you to memory.

The one who isn’t hidden.

Isn’t tucked away in quiet corners and late nights.

The one who stands beside him, openly and unafraid. 

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck.

Gentle.

But grounding.

“Come on,” he murmurs.

“Let’s get you home.”

You smile.

But you don’t move right away. Staying in the moment just a second longer before stepping back and turning to stand besides him. 

As the two of you start to walk you brush your hand to his, a silent question in the gesture. 

Azriel stills.

For half a heartbeat. Until you feel his hand tightens around yours.