Az x CoN! Reader

The final day of your bargain with the Shadowsinger has arrived. Your fury with his brother, powers, and personality are quickly judged on what’s supposed to be the best night of your life.

Overall warnings: contains maasverse spoilers, smut, talks of assault, reader is one of Azriel’s spies in Con, derogatory language, and shadow play. sad! Az, mentions childhood trauma, mentions of whippings, Throne of Glass crossover, mentions of death, torture, and murder. 

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more chapters tbd.

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Part Two

Warnings: sad! Az, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of whippings, reader unintentionally brings up all the cadre's PTSD, mentions of death, torture, and murder.

Three days. It had been three days since you were taken from the streets of Velaris. Azriel was losing his mind. Nesta and Cassian decided to stay with him in the townhouse to make sure he wouldn't lose himself in his worry. How could he not? His mate was gone, half of his soul was missing. He knew you were alive; he felt it. The reminder of the bond between you was the only thing keeping him calm. He kept his mental shield open in case you could reach him; so far, you hadn't.

“Azriel, you need to eat. We’ll find her,” Feyre said, her concern for her friend taking priority. Thankfully, Nesta and Elain had volunteered to watch Nyx while Rhys and Amren did research. Cassian was patrolling with a small fleet of warriors, searching for you or the scent of the males that took you. Even Azriel’s spy network and shadows were searching for you when the others rested. He wasn't going to give up on finding you.

Except it wasn't an ordinary male; he claimed you as his daughter. After three hundred years, why did he come now? If what he said was true, he would have had your sense of smell. He would've scented your bond and… Azriel was trying to make sense of it all. Did moving you out of the Hewn City make it easier for him to find you?

“Stop that, this isn't your fault,” Feyre scolded.

“I should have gone with her to the market,” he muttered. Feyre frowned, disliking her friend’s self-pity. She could only imagine the pain he felt. Even when she was taken, it was a plan. Perhaps Rhys could weigh in and comfort his brother better than she. In the end, she simply hugged him before Nesta replaced her.

“Eat,” she demanded. Azriel glared at Death herself and found himself obeying. Nesta’s lip twitched upward slightly in satisfaction. “You cannot control what happens when you aren't around. She's alive, hold onto that as much as you can,” she said, softer than her usual bite. “I haven't gotten the chance to know her, but she's good for you. That was clear as day when you arrived.”

“I can't understand why her father would come now. He hadn't given a damn for three hundred years,” Azriel said as Rhys and Amren entered the dining room. His brother’s face was grim, as if he were also trying to make sense of this ordeal.

“It’s odd. The scent of each male relates to hers. I'm not sure how that’s possible,” Rhys explained. Amren continued, only hearing stories of a group of powerful fae males that used to traverse Prythian from a distant land. Azriel heard the stories as well, which dated back to three hundred years ago. The timeline would make sense. Except for seven males who helped create one child did not. The only people who would know are the priestesses in the temple you lived in as a young fae.

“Mor is speaking to the priestesses in Hewn,” Rhys said. Azriel glared at his brother for slipping into his mind. “I understand that you are in distress. However, do not forget that you are the spymaster of this court. You know more, and someone will take advantage of you to learn our secrets,” he hated when his brother was right. He needed to get himself together. You'd scold him for wallowing like this instead of leaning on someone. Gods, he missed you.

—

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. The scent of Pine and Snow was strong, almost choking you. You weren't in a dungeon, but a bedroom with forest green curtains and linens. How long were you out? You tried to reach Rhys or Azriel, but you were too far to find them in your mind. You were once again alone.

The walls glimmered with opal. Everything truly was beautiful. You wished you could have enjoyed the space more on your own volition instead of being captured.

“Good, you’re awake,” you jumped at the voice to your left. The female sat in a chair, a soft grin on her face. She was beautiful. Long golden hair, eyes that had a ring of yellow around the pupil, and a regal presence that felt… right?

“Where am I?” Your voice shook with anger you tried to contain. This female wasn't the one to capture you, but she had to have known. Why else would she be in here?

“Terrasen, the northern country of Erelia,” she said as if that would answer everything. “I figured I'd introduce myself before the Cadre. Just to see what you would do.”

“There are many things I’d like to do right now, but I have more questions that need to be answered first. Where the fuck are we, who the fuck are you, and why is your mate claiming he is my father?” the female faltered for a moment. Her intrigue inclined more than anything. How interesting, you could sense Rowan as her mate. In a former life, the queen would have murdered someone for speaking to her like that. Except you didn't try to attack. You were lost and with good reason. The queen decided that she liked you even if you hurt her mate.

“I am Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. You are in a different world from your home because my mate sensed you in a rift between our worlds. He and the Cadre gifted you a drop of their magic when you were born. You are their bastard, and simultaneously my cousin and step-daughter,” Aelin spoke slowly, the information more than enough to process right now. Your head spun as you settled back on the bed.

“Why?” you asked, voice hoarse as you tried to hold onto whatever was in your stomach.

“Let’s get breakfast, then I'll explain more,” you groan, but compky, too curious for your own good. This female was your cousin and stepmother. How in the Hel does that happen? Part of you wished that this was all just a dream and you were safely tucked in your mate’s embrace. Your mate. Azriel must be tearing the townhouse apart in anger. When you see him again, you'd have to reassure him that this wasn't his fault. Neither of you could have seen this coming.

“Why didn't one of the… Cadre, stay with me?” you asked after a few turns into different hallways. Mentally, you made a map in case Aelin was trying to disorient you.

“I volunteered, and my mate might have been a tad angry that you broke his wrist,” she said, and you grinned. Good, whatever he injected with you hurt like a bitch. The least you could do was give him the same discomfort.

You arrived at a dining hall, the long table filled with different kinds of fae, and… you gasped. “You don't live separately from humans,” you pointed out. The chatter at the table halted at your exclamation. Each one of them is staring at you like you'd said the most idiotic thing.

“Of course, you don’t?” Aelin asked.

“Not in fifteen thousand years. The Daglan enslaved fae and humans until the great war. Afterwards, the fae enslaved the humans until the treaty was formed. There is a wall that separates the fae and human realms,” you explained, taking the seat closest to Aelin. You kept the information about Feyre, her sisters, and the war against Hybern to yourself. They didn't need to know about that.

“But there are still slaves,” the male who claimed to be your father said. You glared at him from across the table. “Weren’t you one until recently?”

“What does it matter to you?” you snapped back. He flinched for a second. Who does he think he is to say such things? He wasn't a father saving his child; he captured you from the one safety you had.

“You have immense power and have done nothing with it. It’s a waste of potential,” he said before eating the meat on his plate. You let out a humorless laugh.

“So now you decide to be a father? Where were you when I was thrown on the temple steps with a note saying that I was cursed? Where were you when I was starving on the streets? Where were you to stop me from joining a brothel so I could have food for once? No, a better question would be where were you when I was whipped on my seventh birthday for stealing a piece of stale bread to survive?!?” You were panting by the end of your questions. Aelin flinched at the mention of the whipping. Another female flinched at the mention of a brothel. You weren't in your clothes; you had the day you were taken, they all had to know what was on your back. You wanted questions answered now, or they'd all see the potential of your power.

“All right, let’s settle down and we’ll answer your questions,” the male who reminded you of Death said. How was it that he was the calm one? You noticed the human girl sat beside him, the lines that littered her face. Then your eyes went back to him. He's fae, but… it seemed he was aging at the rate she was. “You bound your soul to hers,” you said softly, then felt it. “Death magic, that’s your power.”

“Yes, to both of those statements. Elide Lochan is my wife and the Lady of Perranth,” Pride exuded in him at the mention of his wife. Mates by choice, not like the bond between Aelin and her mate. Your eyes flitted to the male sitting to your left. He's beautiful, a timeless beauty that seemed unnatural. Yet something in his gaze had you slumping. This group seemed to have lost so much, and they wore it on their sleeves unashamed. You could at least respect that.

“I’m Fenrys Moonbeam, my brother was also your father,” there was the confirmation you needed.

“And I am your brother, Aedion Ashryver,” Another male… no, he's half fae and human, said further down the table. Brother. You have a brother, yet his features practically mirrored Aelin’s. Right, cousin and stepmother. “Gavriel was our father, he… he was a good male, kind and caring.”

“One of your fathers we murdered, and the other is unaccounted for. I can assure you that one of them was not a good male. He was a torturer,” Aelin’s mate spoke, his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyes flicked to Aelin, the haunted gaze she had. Oh. She was the last one he tortured. Out of instinct, you settled your hand over the queen’s in comfort. It was warm, as if fire lived in her veins. “My name is Rowan, by the way. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, King Consort of Terrasen.”

“How is it that the seven of you claim to be my father?” you asked after some time in silence. Your hand never left the queen’s. Aelin appreciated the gesture. Regardless of your anger, you did not attack, and you were kind. You reminded her of the Crochan queen to the west. Cold exterior, but softer as time went on. She should send a letter to her about this.

“Though none of us helped create you, we helped deliver you. You were not breathing and had no heartbeat. Your mother pleaded for us to help, so we did by gifting you a single drop of magic from each of us. Your scent, power, perhaps your attitude as well, all came from us,” Lorcan smirked. “Now that we've explained, would you care to share how you feel?”

You did, but nothing you had to say was kind. Not after their calm explanation. A tear slipped down your cheek. Confusion is stirring within you more than anything. “I don't know how to feel. I'm angry, but I understand where you are coming from. I want to hate you all, but you weren't the ones to throw me away. I do despise you for how you took me. I was two weeks into a better life for myself, with my mate, and I have no clue how to get back to him.” Your bitterness was valid. Aelin recognized it and squeezed your hand. A solid ground.

“You have a mate?” Elide asked. You nodded, swallowing hard at the thought of him. No matter what you tried, you couldn't reach him. Yet you still tugged on the golden thread that connected you. You wouldn't stop until you felt something.

“How long have you known him?” Rowan asked. It was clear that he took the fatherly role seriously. As you stared at him, you saw how his emotions stirred behind his mask of indifference. Guilt, pain, and… something you couldn't understand. It was haunting, as if seeing you brought up something different.

“One hundred years,” you finally answered. “The mating bond snapped over a year ago, and I accepted two weeks prior.”

“I’m sorry, we weren't aware. Your scent didn't have another intertwined,” Lorcan said softly, and you sighed, loosening your shield. Aedion’s breath hitched at your scent, and Azriel’s intertwined. Your shield returned to you, bristling everyone’s hair as the wind concentrated around you again.

“That’s impressive,” The female next to Aedion smirked. She was fae but different; there was magic in her, but not like yours or your fathers.

“You’re a shifter,” she nodded.

“So are you. Have you had a chance to shift?” Rowan asked.

“Once, it didn't end well. I shifted into a lion and was almost skinned alive,” you laughed at the memory. “They thought a lion had somehow entered the mountain. What idiots,” Aelin snorted alongside you.

“You lived in The Prison?” Fenrys asked.

“Gods no, I lived in the Hewn City. The Prison is an island on the west side of Prythian. The Hewn City exists under a different mountain,” it was as much as they'd get from you. Rowan knew your defenses were up, but there had been a bit of even ground for you all. Your anger still simmered, but you hid it well enough to have a civilized conversation. He was impressed and regretted his comment about your potential.

As you spoke about your life as vaguely as possible, Rowan noticed how his mind drifted to Lyria and their unborn child. The pain they had suffered without him, and now you. You hadn't known a kindness until you found your mate. He hadn't meant for the meeting to go as it had. He wanted to have a normal conversation, and he dealt with it in the most primal way when you needed a calmer situation. He wasn't sure how to begin his apology, only that he needed to.

“I do have a question that I’m not sure how to bring up. What is this rift that you walked through, and when can I return home?” You asked. Rowan frowned, then looked at the Queen, and her frown matched. No, no, there has to be a way.

“It opened four days ago and closed when we returned. Occasionally, pockets are created, but none are large enough to travel through,” Fenrys said, and you curled inward. The room shook as your power leaked through your shield. Darkness, wind, and thunder filled the room. Your name was said, trying to get you out of… whatever this was. The stone beneath you began to crack.

Aelin stepped to your side and wrapped her arms around you. A shield with what little magic she had, stopping you from hearing everyone. The queen listened to your ragged breathing, your heart thundering, and she knew she would do anything to help you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I will help you in any way possible to get you home,” she promised. Your eyes fluttered shut as she kept apologizing. The way her hand soothed over your hair felt so maternal, you began to sob. Your power changed into a golden healing light. The cracking beneath you smoothed over as it expanded over the room and anywhere your magic had seeped through.

Beyond the castle, the citizens of Orynth were stunned as the golden light washed over them and the old buildings. Further to the west, the Crochan Queen sensed something coming. She halted the meeting with her closest ally in the flatlands, standing to inspect what was happening outside the eastern window. Her kingdom was still rebuilding below her, witches and humans working in tandem to repair homes and shops. They stood frozen as the rubble fixed itself. The queen narrowed her eyes as the magic moved closer and closer to her castle. What was causing this?

The question echoed further south as the dark-haired king and his second watched the liveliness return to Rifthold, and the castle they stood before no longer looked in shambles. The glass addition did not return. Instead, the shards were used to make beautiful stained glass windows. The king looked to his second, his best friend, and noticed the tight set of his jaw. It seemed they needed to pay their friends in the north a visit.

Your golden light bristled past Morath, finding its way into every spot that needed to heal. The King and Queen of Eyllwe watched as their coast was restored, no longer burned to ash. In Skulls Bay, the Mycenean king watched his men work on repairing their ships. He felt a magic tingling across the living tattoo on his skin. He glanced down, noticing the changes that expanded over the continent. A new dread formed in his gut where the changes began. It seemed his old friend was up to new plans she would not tell anyone about. He wasn't sure who to pray to; the gods were gone. He only hoped someone would hear them.

—

One month. It had been one month since you disappeared. Azriel could have sworn he felt a distant tug through the bond from you. He held onto it, never losing hope that you'd return. Cassian continued his search in the skies, and Nesta had insisted that Azriel stay in the House of Wind until her mate returned. Azriel despised the idea, wanting to sleep in his bed that had your scent. He was being stubborn, but what else could he do?

He could not accompany his brothers on their missions. He'd risk causing political turmoil during treaty discussions. He could not perform a scrying like Nesta. He could not see like Elain. He could not speak on behalf of the court to the continent like Mor. His shadows and spy network could not find you either. He helped Amren with research, but beyond that, he felt helpless. “Quit sulking, the Valkyrie will be here soon. You promised Cassian you would still train with us,” Nesta reminded him. Right, he was still a warrior and needed to train. He had a duty to train the priestesses as well. He didn't want to halt their progress because he was in pain.

Reluctantly, Azriel followed Nesta to the training ring. Rhys had landed with Emerie at the moment the Valkyries began their stretches. Rhysand joined in, attempting to comfort his brother. He tapped on Azriel’s mental shield and was grateful that he let him in.

Amren might have found something. Azriel glanced at his brother, waiting for more of an explanation as they stretched their arms above their head. The priestesses know that her mother is alive. We can question her about your mate’s father.

I should not be allowed to ask her anything. She threw her daughter away and called her cursed. I will not be kind. Azriel stated firmly. He did not want to give in to his anger. Not when it came to you. You never saw him as a weapon, even when he showed up at your doorstep, soaked in blood on occasion. It was another thought that he kept close to him. He needed to choose how he'd handle this wisely.

I know. I… Azriel, I'm at a loss for words to express how sorry I am. For not only this, but also how I treated your mate that first night. Azriel appreciated the sentiment. Even through his stress, he knew his brother was being sincere. He wondered how much of his apology was Feyre’s doing. Perhaps even Nesta’s. Rhys and Nesta wouldn't admit it, but they unintentionally leaned on each other like siblings would. His mind went back to you and your father. Did you have other siblings? Would you leave him to know this family? No, that's absurd. Even as his mind wanted to trick him, he knew you. You wouldn't leave him. He held onto that truth as well.

“I appreciate the apology, don't forget to tell her that when she returns,” Azriel said softly to Rhys. Nesta’s eyes flickered over to the males. Rhys drew in a deep breath and patted his brother’s shoulder. The tension in Azriel’s shoulders loosened a bit, and the shadows resting atop his wings lightened. She focused on her training once again, relieved that her friend was beginning to settle.

Rhysand still felt unsettled, though. Unsure of how this would affect the politics he was trying to make peace with. In such a short amount of time, more and more powerful females have arrived in his Court of Dreams. Any other Court would see it as a threat and could retaliate. He still needed to work out the compromise with the Court of Nightmares. He found himself wishing you were here to help him navigate that. Unbeknownst to you, he needed you more than he led on. He wanted a proper emissary to oversee the visits, and you were the perfect choice. He prayed to The Mother that you were safe, and that Amren would not go too far with your mother.

Note: Thank you all for your love for the first part. I’ve always been nervous about posting stories, so I’m glad to see people enjoying this one. I haven't fully planned this out, but I’m working on it! Posting the masterlist as well soon!

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@sophieliz

@tele86

@dracosdiaries

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.

Part 8

Warnings: everyone's just tired, idk what else to say, lmk if there's any other warnings i missed

Rhysand didn't like this plan. He felt too exposed walking with Lucien through the Spring Court. Behind them, Azriel, Nesta, and Cassian were glamoured and walking silently. Until Cassian sniffled loudly. Nesta hushed him, reaching into her small satchel and passing him the elixir for his allergies. He downed the potion, immediately feeling relief from the pollen. Nesta bit back her laughter at her mate. He’s one of the most powerful warriors in history, yet he's powerless to pollen. 

“Are you sure this will work?” Rhys asked. 

“I don't know. He’s… unwell,” Lucien frowned. The male still felt immense guilt over everything that happened during the war. He didn’t mean to leave his friend, but Lucien realized that he needed to think about himself as well. Especially with Elain and his true father. That was something he’s still processing, but he was grateful for the warm welcome. He only wished that his mother had left the Autumn Court as well. He prayed to The Mother that Eris would protect her.

Azriel felt a tug within him. The closer they got to the pond of starlight, the quicker he could see you again. He had been waiting for this moment for months now. He wasn't going to let a grown male who was having a temper tantrum get in his way. 

“You dare cross into my territory with your band of warriors, Lucien?” The beast snarled. Fuck. Azriel was too distracted to notice Tamlin creeping in the woods. “Drop the glamour.”

“Tamlin, we’re only here to pass through,” Lucien stated calmly to avoid raising his temper. He wasn't certain he could reach his oldest friend. Guilt crept through him at how Tamlin must've seen him now. A traitor. He should've said no to Rhys; he should be in the Day Court with Elain. She was about to have their first infant, and he knew Helion would be hovering more. 

Rhys dropped the glamour on his family only to have the beast growl. “Explain why your spymaster smells different,” he snarled. 

“My mate was taken to another world, and we are trying to get her back,” Azriel said honestly. There was no point in fighting with the beast. Perhaps he wouldn't be so cruel and let them pass. Azriel prayed as he explained the situation. He didn't care about the rivalries and issues between the courts. He only wanted to see you and bring you home. He was exhausted from repeating himself and on the brink of losing his patience. 

“Whatever issues you have with me, let them be with me, Tamlin. Azriel only had two weeks with his mate before she was taken. It’s been two months and six days since he last saw her,” Rhys said truthfully. He didn’t care anymore; the exhaustion of researching and making sure his brother was alright began to weigh on him each day that you were gone. He had his own agenda for having you back, but seeing his brother in pain trumped it all. He wanted to see Azriel happy again more than anything.

Tamlin looked at the shadowsinger, assessing the story of his apparent mate. Mate, he thought, what did the warrior do to deserve one? The question should have been what went wrong for the warrior to find his mate. His eyes narrowed on Azriel, taking note of the bruising under his eyes and the hallowness of his cheeks. He never noticed the timeless beauty of the warrior. No, it wasn’t time to think about that.

“Where will this take place?” The beast snarled.

“The pond of starlight,” Nesta answered. Tamlin glared at the Archeron sister, and Cassian braced for an attack. She explained calmly the research they found, and was also exhausted from the countless explanations. 

“I am aware of the old tales of the pond. Seven warriors entered through it three hundred years ago,” He said. Cassian’s eyes widened before he turned to look at Azriel. “What?” Tamlin snarled.

“Those are her fathers,” Rhysand sighed. Lucien’s golden eye whirred at the information. He and Tamlin knew your fathers, and they were good males. Why would they take you without reason? Tamlin had thought the same and knew what his decision would be. Only for the fact that his message would ultimately ruin every important relationship he had. It’s what he deserved for being so cruel to Feyre. 

“Tell Gavriel, I’m sorry for failing. You may pass,” The beast walked away without saying anything else. Rhys turned to Lucien, a silent request for more information, but he shook his head. His mind was already swirling with guilt, and his oldest friend delivered the final blow. They failed the lion, and he wasn’t sure how to recover from that. No, he couldn’t think like that. He’d be a part of his child’s life and support his family in whatever way he can. He hadn’t failed yet.

“Let’s go,” Azriel breathed out. They continued walking through the woods, no longer threatened by the beast or cruel creatures that escaped during Amarantha’s curse. Rhysand found himself picturing his mate here, talking with the Suriel. He was still in shock at how she was able to catch the creature twice. 

“So… your mate,” Lucien said carefully. Azriel looked at the fox, waiting for whatever question was about to come out of his mouth. There was no bad blood between the males, perhaps some bruised egos. The shadowsinger didn’t care about that part of his past, and neither did the fox. “She’s from the Court of Nightmares, and it didn’t bother you?”

“No,” Azriel said calmly. 

“She is not like most in the Hewn City,” Rhys added. 

“Nesta likes her, I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing,” Cassian smirked. Lucien chuckled at that as Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Gods spare us all if she joins the Valkyrie,” He smirked. 

“It wouldn’t be a bad move, I’m sure she’d enjoy The Blood Rite,” Azriel smirked. He had spoken much about his experience in The Blood Rite, and your eyes lit up at the thought of participating. You didn’t shy away from the thought of being cruel, and he found that incredibly arousing. 

“We’re here,” Nesta said, kneeling to survey the pond of starlight. The shimmering water hummed to her, as if all the answers of this world would be found in it. She prayed that Amren and Mor were right about this and not making a fool out of Azriel’s pain. Not that they would, but you never know some fae’s intentions.

“Here,” Cassian said, passing the bag of black salt to his mate. She steadily poured the salt into the water. Azriel kneeled next to her, one of his shadows placed your shirt in the pond next, and your scent quickly took over the pond. Cassian’s wings bristled, his knowledge of the world beginning to change again. He should keep a journal at this rate, he thought, and held back his smile. 

“I think we’re ready,” Nesta said. Azriel nodded and sent one of his shadows into the pool. Whispers began to cloud his head as he commanded his shadow to find you. When the shadow returned, its essence was delightful, eager to pull its master into the pond.

She’s here! She’s here! She’s in a land of shapeshifters, a better world, a better world!

Azriel nodded and joined hands with Nesta. She took Cassian’s, and he grabbed Rhys’s. “No attacks, we’re only going to bring her home,” Azriel reminded them. They agreed before taking a step into the pond, their intentions clear as the channel guided them below the water. Azriel let his eyes close, opening his mental shields to find you, tugging as much as he could on the bond, nothing but the thought of you on his mind before he lost consciousness. I’m coming, my love. We’re going to have more time.

–

“Keep still, I need to do a proper assessment,” Yrene scolded. Each time her hands came in contact with your bare skin, you squirmed like a little worm. It was odd enough to keep your shield down and preserve your energy. Having someone who wasn’t your mate make such similar contact was unnerving. In an effort not to be rude, you avoided bringing up how cold Yrene’s hands are. 

Chaol heard the commotion behind him, being forced to sit in his chair and face the wall for your modesty. He was always willing to be close to aid his wife, even more so after his fuck up and unfair treatment toward you. As the weeks passed, he realized you were quite harmless outside of training with The Bane and Cadre. Your relationship with your fathers also improved. 

Rowan had become entirely affectionate with you, holding you when he noticed you’d get sad, pressing gentle kisses to your hair, and even helping you shift and learn more about Terrasen. Fenrys and Lorcan were their usual splendid self with you, but it seemed to grow stronger each day. Chaol wondered how you were able to forgive so easily, and how he could ask you without the threatening looks everyone gave him. 

“It’s different,” You muttered, finally sitting still enough for Yrene to feel the jagged scars. “One other fae has touched me like this.” Yrene frowned at the tone your voice had taken. As more time passed without an answer, the more your heart was breaking. She did not know what would happen to mates if they were separated for a long time, but she worried that the result would ruin you. 

“We’re doing everything we can to get you home,” She assured you. You nodded, knowing it was a matter of time before you had an answer. Rowan tried to ease your mind whenever you asked, but his guilt ate him alive with uncertainty. 

“You have a lot of power running through the scars. What did they whip you with?” Yrene asked.

“I didn’t care to ask. I was plotting my revenge,” You muttered.

“Did you get it?” Chaol asked, and your eyes narrowed at the back of his head. You contemplated telling him the truth, but you were still angry with him for thinking the worst without giving you a chance. He saw people as a whole, but never thought beyond it. Everyone was complex. That much was true about his friends. Regardless, you decided that terrifying him was better than being truthful.

“The list continues to grow and varies,” You said flatly and noticed how he shuddered. Good. 

“I’ll be able to heal you, it will take time, and it will be incredibly painful,” Yrene said. You bit the inside of your cheek, questioning your life choices. You wanted your back tattooed more than anything right now, but would it be worth it? 

“Can I take a day to think about it?” You asked.

“Of course, we’ll leave you to rest. Your training this morning looked brutal,” Chaol said, and you threw a soft pillow at his head. 

“You can substitute for me next time, and get your ass beat by centuries-old male warriors,” You retorted, and he laughed. It was true, though, your training went horribly today. For some odd reason, you couldn’t focus even with every defense you had down. You didn’t believe the tug you felt on the mating bond, but it was there. Rowan saw how distracted you were and ended the training early. He attempted to give you space, but he couldn’t stop worrying about you. Once Yerene and Chaol left your room, he entered. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Like I got my ass handed to me,” you grunted. Rowan smirked, pulling a chair to your bedside. You turned on your side to stare up at him, and you found yourself fully appreciating his beauty. All your fathers were handsome, but their personalities were nearly identical to other males you’ve encountered. The biggest difference is their ability to change. You had only peeked into Rowan’s mind when he allowed you to. He resisted for weeks, not wanting the horrors he’s faced to sway your judgment of him. It didn’t, and he realized his daughter couldn’t be manipulated like he once was. Your anger surpassed any other emotion, but you never acted on it like most. It reminded him of his mate and her never-ending well of power.

“Did you want to talk?” You asked.

“Yes, you were distracted today. I want to know why,” He said softly. Your eyes landed on the soft linens on your bed. Aelin had the room converted to your preferences, and without realizing it, you had asked her to make it like your room back in Velaris. Rowan said your name gently, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“You’ll think I’m mad, but for a moment… I thought I felt a tug on the mating bond. It wasn’t like when the rift opened, it felt closer,” You explained. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, but perhaps Az found a way.”

“And you don’t want to leave yet,” Rowan added. You nodded once, keeping the covers tucked under your chin. Selfishly, Rowan was glad to hear that you didn’t want to leave. He knew you’d be an amazing diplomat. He wanted to show you everything in this world and grow a closer bond with you. It didn’t matter what he preferred; this conflict within you was going to put you in harm's way.

“Where I come from, females don’t have many choices,” You said. “If I didn’t have time to know everyone here, the choice wouldn’t be so difficult. I… I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

“Don’t forget that we don’t know how we’ll be receiving your mate,” He sighed. 

“I trained him, don’t worry. He’s learning to think instead of immediately going to war,” You smirked, but Rowan didn’t smile. “I told him I’m safe, that should ease the anger.”

“Do you want to go back home? Inching your way toward what’s already here for you?” Rowan asked. It wasn’t malicious; it was the truth. You’d struggled endlessly with the thought of going home. It didn’t take long to figure out that any attempts to find you weren’t for your safety or concern, but for Azriel’s sanity. He had to have been losing his mind, and you did want to go back to him more than anything, but you didn’t want to go through the interrogation of what you went through in Terrasen. Your instinct to protect these peaceful people was… inexplicable, but greater than your instinct to protect the Night Court. 

“I don’t want to go back to what I saw and experienced, but my mate has a duty to protect his people, and I won’t pull him away from the only family he has,” You said softly. 

“You are also his people as much as you are ours. Your stepmother is already planning your coronation,” He smirked. You immediately cringed, slapping his leg in reprimand. 

“Don’t ever refer to Aelin as my stepmother again. It’s odder than your age difference,” You scolded, only to be received with infectious laughter. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you as my dad. You need practice for all the siblings I’m going to have.” Rowan’s laughter grew. He knew you were right, but he needed to see you smile again. 

“If what you’re feeling is true, then we will help you through whatever choice you make.” You nodded, feeling the exhaustion beginning to take over. “How about tomorrow, you train with Lyssandra? Your shifting still needs a bit of improvement.”

“How about in two days? I want Yrene to heal my back,” You sighed. “That is a choice I’m ready to make. I can feel how it’s stopping my power.” 

“I thought you’d say that. She’s already on her way back with Chaol. If it becomes too unbearable, try to distract yourself by demolishing his confidence,” He winked. You giggled before sitting up and focusing on your breathing. Yrene and Chaol surveyed the pair, content in watching them be in a better place than when they first arrived in Terrasen. 

“Are you ready?” Yrene asked. You nodded, and Chaol walked to his designated corner. He hated how he could imagine you saying “good doggy” to him. 

“Keep your shields up, and I won't be able to do that,” You smiled. 

“I know you're only messing with me because you're nervous,” Chaol said and quickly built up his mental shields again. Yrene rolled her eyes at your taunting, but she allowed it for the sake of your comfort. 

“You should make a wind barrier, I don't want to alarm anyone,” you told Rowan, and he complied. Chaol shuddered as the barrier breezed past him. You turned to lie on your stomach, slipping your shirt off in the process. You reached for your dad’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not leaving your side,” He promised. You nodded and let Yrene begin the healing process.

The warm light washed over you like the morning sun hitting your skin during your trips to Perranth. You focused on that feeling as much as you could before Yrene began to mend the first scar at the top of your back. Rowan hissed as his knuckles began to pop from the amount of force you squeezed his hand with. 

“You’re doing great,” Rowan said before feeling his mate running down the hall. 

Aelin watched beyond the wind barrier, wanting to be closer to ensure you were alright. She waited patiently outside, wincing when you did. 

Once Yrene was halfway down your back, the pain became unbearable. Your body tensed, every instinct to protect yourself was coming back tenfold. Sweat broke out on Yrene’s brow at the largest scar. She felt the stagnant power whispering to her. 

Heal, heal, heal, reveal the gift within. 

“You must relax,” Yrene reminded you. Rowan tried to soothe you, but it fell on deaf ears. He wasn't sure how to ease you, but over the past few weeks, he noticed something about you that Lorcan and Fenrys hadn't. 

“Scream,” he said. “You have so much anger within you, let it go. Be as loud as you need to be.” 

“Think of everything that's angered you, let it out!” Chaol said, and your eyes snapped immediately to the back of his head. You thought of every male who thought nothing of you, of Chaol and his shallowness. You thought of Rhysand, your annoyance with him. Then to your fathers and brothers stealing you. You thought of Gavriel, and how you'd never know him. Every lashing, punch, and attack that was used to punish you. You thought of the corruption in the Night Court, in all of Prythian, and that was your breaking point. 

Beyond the castle, Aedion and Evangeline were riding their horses on their way back to Orynth from the mountains. “Will your sister stay with us?” Evangeline asked. Aedion frowned, unsure how to respond to his daughter. He didn't want to get her hopes up. 

Before he could answer, your piercing scream reached their ears. Aedion’s stomach sank, and he looked to his daughter. She blinked and regained focus on her horse. Without hesitation, she took off, and her father was right behind her. In the sky, Abraxos and Manon dove for the castle, Sartaq and Nesryn soared over Evangeline on their Rhuks. Within the castle, Dorian sprinted toward your room with Lorcan and Fenrys. As they turned the corner, Aelin was covering her pointed ears with her eyes screwed shut. Fenrys immediately went to her side, shuddering at your screams. 

“Gods above, what is happening?” Lorcan asked. Dorian watched through the doorway, wincing as he saw Rowan keep your shoulders pinned to the bed and Yrene straddling your waist. That was why everyone heard you. Rowan couldn't keep the shield of wind intact as your body pulsed with magic. Each scar that vanished into small white lines released a wave of stagnant magic. Your screams and magic combined broke Rowan’s barrier. 

Release the gift, release the gift, chosen, chosen, the chosen will rise! 

The voices shouted in unison. Manon and Yrene locked eyes, confirming they had heard them correctly. Rise, rise, RISE! The voices were female, young, and old, and Manon knew who was speaking. It didn’t make sense; the gods were gone. 

Yrene finished the last scar, watching the magic pulse in waves against your body. The voices stopped chanting, sweat dripped off her brow, and then she turned to check on her husband. He was still turned around, but she noticed his ragged breathing. In an instant, she was by his side while Rowan checked on you. 

“Are you all right?” Yrene asked Chaol. He nodded, shaking off his momentary shock. “What is it? Is it your spine?” Yrene had never seen Chaol so… she wasn’t sure what to call the face he was making. Hopeful, disbelief? Had he heard the voices, too?

“I think… I think she fully healed me,” He said softly. His arms were braced on his chair, not feeling the usual strain that came after a healing session his wife did. His shields were up, yet you still managed to find his mind. You only stood there, radiating that familiar warmth that came with healing magic. When the screaming began, he saw the tears slip down your face in his mind. Those small drops of magic pulsed through him and centered on where his injury was. Chaol didn’t understand it, but he felt it all the same. Gone were the constant aches; his legs didn’t feel as weak either. 

“I did,” You said softly from behind Chaol. Manon offered you a shirt to slip on, surprised to see you sitting up already. She felt the magic pulsing off your body, impressed with how your body began to adjust so quickly. “At first, I didn’t know why I was in your mind, but I figured it was best to heal you when I felt Yrene’s exhaustion,” You explained, wiping away your tears. Lorcan immediately rushed to your side, brushing back your sweaty strands of hair. 

“Are you… How do you feel?” Sartaq asked. 

“Your skin and hair look radiant,” Aelin said, and you chuckled. 

“I can’t seem to find the wall where my magic ends,” You said and rolled your shoulders back, no longer feeling the tightness from the scars. You felt lighter in general, a soft grin spreading across your face. 

“It seems like we’ve created someone more powerful than us,” Lorcan smirked. “I’d be offended if you weren’t mine.” You chuckled before leaning against him. In an effort of hope, you tugged on the mating bond and waited. The faintest tug was Azriel’s response. You’d see each other soon, and you prayed to The Mother that a war wouldn’t come along with it. 

Note: they're getting closer, but whose anxiety is worse about it? Thank you for your patience, everyone. I've been actively grieving after losing someone close to me. Slowly but surely, I'm getting back into writing, so stay tuned.

Pt. 4

Warnings:  anxiety (I can't think of any other ones. Let me know if I missed any).

You sat in a chair beside Aelin and Rowan’s thrones. You read that there was once a throne made of the antlers of the White Staghorns. Learning the history of Terrasen kept you calm as more and more Royals arrived from all over Erilea and the Southern Continent. Aedion kept his eyes on you as you stared at the group. His anxiety spiked, unsure of what would happen to you. He knew the throne room well enough to devise an escape plan. There was an escape hatch behind Aelin’s throne and the main door. You could winnow away, not feeling any wards that wouldn’t allow it, and then… He wasn't sure what to do at that point. They couldn’t leave Terresen without being tried for treason. He would have to accept whatever fate would happen, and the thought made him feel ill.

Your leg bounced furiously at being perceived once again. People in power will learn anything and everything to feel in control. You despised it. You didn’t choose this life, you didn’t want this power, and you only used it to protect yourself. None of them will see it that way. They will see a threat to the treaties they forged after the war. You would never see your mate again. 

Aelin sensed your panic, watched you even your breathing as you looked at her friends who helped her save the world. She knew Dorian and Chaol would understand, but part of her wasn’t sure what the others would say. Manon did thank you for helping expedite the rebuilding of the Wastes. She also liked how you acknowledged Abraxos and her pain. That was something you did incredibly well. Your intelligence was beyond logic and strategy. Your empathy would be enough proof for many in this room to leave you alone. Well, that is what the queen hoped.

“Now that everyone has arrived, we will begin our explanation,” Rowan said. He stood up, throat bobbing as he found the right words. “Three hundred years ago, Maeve found a rift in Wendlyn. She ordered us to investigate, and we found ourselves in an unknown world. We helped aid in small wars and found no threats. On our way back, we traveled through a city under a mountain, keeping to the outskirts. A young female screamed, and we went to help. She was giving birth, and the babe came into the world with no heartbeat and blue. She pleaded with us to save the babe, and we did by giving her child a single drop of our power. It created a bond between us, and she claimed our magic, giving her seven fathers and one mother. None of us helped to create her, but we gave her life,” He explained. His eyes flitted to yours as he continued. He explained how they stayed to help you settle with your mother for a week, then Maeve commanded them to return through the blood oath. They left, and he hadn’t thought of you since the rift in Terrasen opened back to your world when he felt you. Your gaze never left the ground in front of you, even as you sensed Aedion’s gaze burning into the side of your head.

“It was the biggest failure on my part,” Your head shot up at Rowan’s words. The guilt was evident on his features. “Even now, I recognize that my actions were not right in taking her away from her home. I will regret it until my last breath, and I am sorry for doing this to you, daughter. It was selfish of me to take you away from your mate.” Tears pricked your eyes, a weight slightly lifted from your shoulders. He could have done this privately, but you appreciated the sentiment of his declaration. 

“While that is appreciated, we want to know what powers she possesses and if they are a threat,” Sartaq, the Heir of the Southern Continent, said. His mask of indifference cracked when his eyes met yours. You blinked at him, unsure of what he saw in you. 

“I have the same powers as The Cadre, including death magic and healing powers, as you all saw.” You stood up as you spoke. “There is also a power in my world called Daemati. From what I’ve read and been told by Aelin, Maeve had the same power. I do not know how to manipulate minds, but I can speak to any of you if you would allow me to.” The Royals surveyed each other, none trusting the word of a stranger. Dorian looked to his friend on the throne, the honesty that was in the Queen’s gaze. His eyes met yours; the beauty that you held was beyond his words. He bit back a smile when he thought of it as otherworldly. It fit so well, but he would keep that to himself. You are mated, and he would not step beyond that boundary. “I would like to see your… Daemati power,” Dorian’s head whipped to the Crochan Queen. She noticed his gaze and ignored it. You nodded in thanks before searching for the door to Manon’s mind. 

You found a tall iron gate with spikes running along the top. You tapped against the gate. Manon’s eyes dilated when she realized you were there in her mind. She allowed you to enter, and your breath hitched. You felt all her pain, living a lie, murdering her sister, losing her coven. It was all there, consuming her in a manner that had you falling to your knees. 

I’m so sorry

The queen blinked at you, hearing your soft voice in her mind. She let you sit in it, and you let her see your life. The queen’s nostrils flared at seeing your life. “You left the temple at six years old, why?” She asked.

“Another babe was left there, and there were no other beds. He would have died on the steps or been eaten by a beast,” you breathed out before asking Manon a dangerous question. “Have you lived?” Chaol looked at Aelin, a fear like no other in his copper eyes. He did not trust this magic, not after Maeve, not ever. Yet the queen did not bank in fear of your power, and he couldn’t understand why.

“She speaks the truth,” Manon said, leaving your question unanswered. “The wastes appreciate your honesty. We do not deem the female a threat.” Each Royal accepted this test, and you saw what each one of them went through. So much pain, loss, and beautiful bonds were in each one. You blushed when you entered Sartaq’s mind. He adored his wife so much that it consumed him. You thought back to Azriel, how you felt about him, and Sartaq felt it too. Unknowingly, you allowed him to see your mate and the joy he brought you, the love in your mate’s gaze. Your memories were precious, and you let him see them. 

“The Southern Continent does not deem you a threat, and we would like to aid in getting you home. My sister will send over any records we have about rifts. You need to be home,” He said. You gave him a small smile, appreciating his words and agreement that you needed to get the Hel out of here. Each Royal saw your truth, each deciding that you are not a threat. Until it came to Dorian and Chaol. 

You entered Dorian’s mind first. You saw everything he had gone through. He saw your eyes flit to his neck for a second, looking for the tan line he worked so hard to get rid of. You saw his love after Aelin, his father, how he and Aelin sent the gods home, and his affection for the Crochan Queen. 

Careful where you tread. He said, and you laughed. I know where I am. What I see is what you’re allowing me to see. I don't prod.

Tell me about your mate. 

He is kind, unique, and I want to be with him again. Dorian saw the male, a gorgeous one at that. You smirked at his shock. He couldn't help but think about how powerful and gorgeous your children would be. I can't have them, but I appreciate the sentiment. 

“What do you mean?” He asked aloud. 

“Where I come from, orphans are randomly selected and illegally cleansed. I can't have children of my own,” Murmurs began to stir around at your words. Dorian apologized in his mind, and you shrugged. That nonchalant reaction told him you've made your peace with it. He looked to his second, and the harsh gaze he gave you. His wife stood next to him, Yrene, the healer who killed Erawan. She squeezed her husband’s hand, willing him to wait until you showed him your power before deciding. 

“I’m sorry, but I can't agree with this. You hold the power of seven fierce warriors, that is a threat,” Chaol said, and your heartbeat began to pick up. The decision needed to be unanimous, and he hadn't even given you a chance. Aedion glared at Chaol, as did Aelin. Yrene looked at her husband, shocked at his answer. 

“You’d rather her die than return home to her mate?” Sartaq questioned. “She did not ask for this power. She did not want to come here.” You flinched as the voices started to rise. You were going to die, you'd never see Azriel again, you'd never meet his nephew, or have dinner with Nesta and Cassian like you were supposed to. You wouldn’t be able to help Rhys as an emissary during the Court of Nightmares' visits to Velaris. 

“She is a threat to everything we sacrificed five years ago,” Chaol defended. You looked to Yrene, tapping on her mental shield. She allowed you in, and you showed her what the others saw in your mind. She winced at the seven lashings on your back. Please, I just want to go home. She nodded once, thinking of what the best plan of action would be to change Chaol’s mind. He had no right to assume the worst of you. None of them did. 

“Careful how you speak of our daughter, human,” Lorcan seethed, his voice silencing the others. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Death’s wrath. 

“Chaol,” Aelin said. She didn't think this would happen. Her tone deflated, hoping too much that he'd change and would agree to letting you stay until they could get you back. ”She has a family waiting for her.”

“We don't know that. For all we know, there could be an army waiting to attack us if she's sent home,” he said, and your heart ached. Aedion moved closer to you, seeing your panic begin to take over. The mood changed as everyone considered his words. No, no, no, you had it right there. You were so close, and now… You hoped by some miracle that Azriel could feel your panic as you tugged on the bond. 

“Chaol, I saw in her mind what she wants and who she is. If there were a threat, it’s her, and she is not threatening this world,” Yrene spoke, but it fell on deaf ears. Chaol’s anger took over, his sword out as he charged for you. 

“You went into her mind?” He seethed. Rowan and Fenrys stepped in front of Chaol. They wouldn't let him close to you. 

“Watch it, boy. Take another step toward her and you will regret it,” Fenrys growled. You couldn't breathe. The world was closing in. Aedion tried to soothe you, but he knew you were too far gone in your thoughts. 

Yrene tried to explain, the Royals were attempting to de-escalate the situation before heads were chopped off. Literally. 

“If it were you in this position, if you were judged like this, providing proof that you meant no harm, and someone voted against you. How would you feel?” Lorcan asked. Chaol thought about it, unsure of how to put himself in your shoes. He was a normal human with authority. You were a powerful fae with none. 

“I would accept my fate,” he said. 

“You would let your mate mourn you rather than get back to her?” Fenrys asked. Yrene could've sworn her heart broke at her husband’s words. She was going to destroy him tonight. 

“He’s lying,” Aelin said firmly before looking back where she last saw you. Except you weren't there, Aedion was. “Where did she go?” 

“I told her to run, and she winnowed away,” he said, no shame in his actions. “I refuse to see another family member be murdered.” 

—

Azriel huffed at the heat of the Day Court. He couldn't focus on the book in his hand. Something felt wrong within him. He assumed it was your absence, but he wasn't sure anymore. 

“Have you found anything?” Helion asked. Azriel shook his head, closing the book. Helion felt sorry for the male. He didn't know what the Shadowsinger had gone through in his life, but he knew that this was tearing him apart over it all. Half of his soul was missing, and it showed. 

“I’m sorry you are going through this. I can only imagine what you're going through,” Helion said, attempting to console the male. When he received notice from Rhysand about the situation, he knew he wanted to help. He wanted the male he'd seen to be ruthless and cunning, to have a smile for once. 

“Have you heard of her fathers?” Azriel asked. 

“Yes, I remember them well. They were quite handsome,” Helion smirked. Azriel scoffed, his lips twitching upward slightly. “Tell me about your mate.”

“She’s unlike anyone in Hewn. Of course, she can be cruel and vicious, but underneath it all is a female who wants balance and equality. She wanted to feel safe, to not have to constantly keep a shield around her. She never used her powers to get the upper hand. She uses her mind instead,” Azriel sighed. Talking about you helped him settle the chaos in his mind. He found himself in a routine. Wake up to the fading scent of you in the townhouse, research until his mind feels like a puddle, train to get his anger out, then return home to wallow in his sadness. Azriel couldn't remember the last time he cried so much, but these two months were the longest he had. When you came home, he knew he still wouldn't be able to sleep. He'd keep watch as you rested, ensuring no one would take you away like this again. You'd eventually get fed up with him not resting and scold him. He'd concede, keeping you tucked into his chest as he finally slept with his shadows guarding you both. He wanted it back desperately. 

“I think that is the most I’ve heard you speak,” Helion smirked. Rhysand was a good friend who made terrible decisions to protect what’s important to him. He wasn’t sure how, but it landed him some of the most powerful females in Prythian. Other high lords were bitter about it, questioning whether Rhysand was forming an army to take over and rule as High King. Helion thought the rumors were absurd. He knew Rhys wouldn’t want to be King, but he had every tool to attack everyone. 

Except Helion knew that this wasn't about returning a living weapon. Rhys loved Azriel deeply, and since the Shadowsinger entered his life, he did everything to ensure he wouldn't be the small boy he met over five hundred years ago. Helion heard and felt the pain in Rhys’s voice when he asked for help. He could not bear knowing his brother was in pain again. A worse pain than death, Helion thought. 

“Do not lose faith, Azriel. She will return,” Helion assured him before Mor shrieked. 

“I found something!” she squealed. “It’s not in a language I know entirely, but perhaps Amren could use another puzzle,” she beamed. “There’s mention of a gate used to… world walk. I think.” 

Azriel looked at Helion, the pleading question in his eyes. The High Lord was protective of his libraries, but he knew he couldn't refuse a male that’s already been kicked to the ground. 

“Yes, you can take the book. There is magic that will return it once you are finished with it,” Helion smiled. Azriel thanked the High Lord before winnowing away with Mor and the first lead they've had in weeks. He wouldn't lose faith; he would bring you home. 

—

You gasped as you landed in a pond of icy water. You didn't know where you were. Typically, you'd think of where to go and arrive there. Except you had no fucking clue where anything was beyond Terrasen. Your intention while winnowing was to be somewhere safe. 

You groaned, stepping out of the pond and shivering. With minimal magic, you used the wind to dry your clothes before taking in your surroundings. 

It didn't look like the Oakwald forest you knew. The trees were tall and had no lush green leaves. The air was chilly and… silent. You huffed, beginning to walk. Your powers sent you here for a reason; you were going to find out why. 

You grabbed a few stones, using them as markers in case you went into a circle. You started east, counting the steps you took beyond the pond. Fifty paces and nothing had changed. You returned to the pond and began south, and found scorching sandy beaches. In the distance, there was a town no… There was no scent on the wind of humans or fae. Yet something was calling to your magic. Oh. 

Your heart began to ache at what you felt. Sometimes death still lingered even after years of abandonment. Thousands had died there. You couldn't remember the name of the place, but you knew what a slave camp looked like. Aelin had shown you in her mind the first night you came. You both cried until sunrise about being enslaved. It was the same with Lysandra, much to Aedion’s annoyance, when you stayed with them. Evangeline teased him at breakfast for sleeping on the ground in her room. You saw Evangeline’s room and fell to the ground cackling. Her bed would have accommodated both of them easily. 

You snorted at the memory. If anyone saw you, they'd think you're mad for laughing so close to a death camp. It’s not your fault for having such a fucked sense of humor. 

Turning away from the sand, you returned to the pond and headed west. You reached the forest’s end once again, and a river stood before you. Nothing was tugging you to follow or cross it. Which only left one last option. 

North, by your glance at a map passing a war room, meant going into Melisande. It was small, which meant too many people would see you. Then through a mountain pass that seemed… difficult. You could winnow, but you remembered what you saw in Dorian’s mind and who inhabited those mountains. You’d prefer Chaol attempting to slit your throat. 

But much to your dismay, the north felt right. You didn't know what divinities blessed this world, but you sent a prayer to anyone that you’d survive this. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw something peek out from a tree. Aelin mentioned something about the magical creatures in the forest. The Little Folk! Your eyes widened in glee. Your teeth sank into your cheek to contain your excitement. It was the one thing you wanted to see if you couldn't get home any time soon. The faerie set a statue on the ground. It looked like a cabin, and you bowed your head to the faerie before returning to the pond and beginning northward. The sun began to set, and you took deep breaths to settle your panic. Your vision was better at night than most. Living your entire life in a cave helped with that. 

Your thoughts went back to Chaol and his dismissive answers. In some ways, he reminded you of your first interaction with Rhysand. He took you for your power, and you showed him you were more. A week into Azriel’s time off, he visited to properly apologize and offer you the position as the Court of Nightmares' emissary. You wanted the job and the opportunity to help the orphans in Hewn to have a better outlook on the world. Rhys said he’d be more than happy to help you give the young ones a true chance. It would be the beginning of a better world, and now… You were in a better world, but it wasn’t yours, and one boy is ruining your chance to be better. 

A twig snapped nearby, and your defenses went up. The Little Folk were nowhere to be seen. Wind brushed against your back, and you whirled to find nothing but a large bird sitting on a broken branch. It was an osprey, larger than the ones you read about. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where this is?” You asked, showing the figure left for you. The bird blinked, and you sighed. “Gods above, I’m already losing my mind. Talking to a fucking bird like it’ll understand me.”

“Do you always complain this much?” You froze, not believing what you heard. “You sound like Connall, gods rest his soul.”

Then you felt it, the magic tugging you to this sassy bird. How long has he been in his animal form? Lysandra said it was difficult to shift back if someone was in their shift form too long. “Don’t fret about how long I’ve been like this. I shift regularly, daughter.” How the fuck did he know you were thinking that?

“Can you stop talking for one moment? I’m trying to- Maeve wasn’t the only one to share the mind power. She siphoned it from you.” Your father’s avian head nodded before he shifted to his fae form. He had dark hair and eyes, and a tall frame. His smile was sad as he looked at you. His friends may have forgotten you, but he hadn’t. He kept his distance from them even after the blood oath was severed because of you. He didn’t agree to leave you, and with Maeve gone, he finally had a chance to mourn the pain of leaving you.

“My cabin is close, we can speak in there. I have much groveling to do,” He said and patted the top of your head. Maybe it was the honesty or knowing how isolated the male is, but you complied as your curiosity won out. At least he didn’t freeze when he saw you. But Rowan apologized and defended you with Lorcan and Fenrys. Maybe Vaughan can help you understand this situation better.

the girls are fighting 👀

Part 10

Warnings: blood, anxiety, emotional damage, Rhys having anxiety, lmk if I missed any, I can't remember Note: we're back, maybe?

Aelin panted as she arrived at the scene. Three fae stood frozen and uncomfortable at the edge of the pond. Two winged males and a female whose silver eyes held a fury beyond the queen’s comprehension. Lyssandra was huddled against a tree, panic and guilt covering her features. When her eyes finally landed on you, she took note of the golden shield surrounding you, silencing your sobs, but she saw how your body was racked with them. She noticed the third male, lying still on the ground, and the blood seeping out of him. She understood what happened, and for your sake, she didn’t let her fear show. 

“Tell me what happened,” She declared. The taller winged male looked to the one with nearly violet eyes. Aelin made a note of it before properly facing your High Lord. 

“My name is Rhysand, one of seven High Lords in Prythian. This is my general, Cassian, and my sister in law, Nesta. This female attacked my brother, and up until this moment, my brother’s mate has had a grip on our minds to stop us from attacking,” He explained as Nesta and Cassian shrugged off the talons you had on their minds. Cassian didn’t know how you learned that, but his fear of you quickly turned to respect. You knew it was an accident and avoided a larger conflict. Rhys was too blinded by fury and fear to think beyond Azriel being injured. 

“It was an accident. As soon as I realized, I let go,” Lyssandra reasoned, wiping away her tears. Aelin quickly went to her side, soothing her friends and whispering to keep her mental shields up. You’d never gone into detail about your mate’s family, but something told her not to fully trust them yet. 

The rest of the Royals arrived, Abraxos nearly frightening Rhys and Cassian. Manon smirked as her wyvern took point in watching them. Her golden eyes surveyed the trio, her attention solely on Nesta. She wasn’t like the males, no, she was different. She dismounted Abraxos and stepped closer to her. Cassian snarled in warning, but the Crochan Queen paid no mind to it. She nodded toward Lady Death, and Nesta straightened.

“What are you sensing?” Manon asked.

“She’s trying to heal him, but he’s too focused on memorizing her face,” Nesta answered. Manon looked at her mate, then Aelin. The silent conversation was unfolding between them as they tried to find a solution that wouldn’t cause a war. 

“Where is she?” Yrene asked. She hadn’t wasted a second getting off of Farasha and surveying the scene. The moment she saw your shield, she headed straight for you. Aelin followed, wanting nothing but to help ease your fear and pain. 

Your fathers split up once they arrived. Lorcan and Fenrys went to check on Lyssandra, Rowan went to get more answers from Rhysand, and Vaughan landed in all his power in the middle of it all. 

Nesta felt the power they all had, knowing better than to attack. There was only one man among them, but seeing as they all came to your aid, she didn’t want to test any theories. It didn’t matter which world you were in. Everyone seemed to adore you. 

Within the bubble, you did everything you could to stop Azriel’s bleeding. “Stay with me, please,” you cried as your healing magic attempted to get through. “Azriel, please stay with me. I can’t lose you.” Azriel hadn’t heard you use his full name in so long. His hand came up to caress your cheek. He took in how radiant you looked, knowing this would be the last time he would see you in this lifetime. Even through your tears and panic, there was no other beauty he could compare to you. 

“My beautiful girl, I thought… I thought I’d never see you again,” He breathed out, pushing through the pain.

“Shut up, don’t talk like that,” You threatened. He was always too eager for his walk with death to end. You refused to allow death to take him. “I can fix this, just stay with me, asshole.” Azriel laughed, something weak and painful as he began to cough up blood. The metallic tang told him everything he needed to know, but he knew it wasn’t right to leave you like this. Stay, stay, stay. His shadows whispered, but he was too exhausted to listen. Slowly, his eyes began to close, and the faint sound of your screams was what he held onto.

Yrene stood outside your shield, unsure of how to get past it. Aelin held the healer’s hand as Aelin pushed beyond the shields in her mind to you with what little magic she possessed. She called your name, waiting for a response. Yrene will save him. Please let us in. I will be with you every step. She waited, worried for her cousin and her mate. The shield expanded over Yrene and Aelin until they were inside. The healer nearly shattered at how broken you were. 

“Please, help him,” you whimpered. Yrene nodded, stepping closer to assess the damage. Aelin held you as the healer did her assessment. Your body racked with sobs as you tried and failed to keep yourself together. 

“I can stop it,” Yrene declared as she began to mend the organs. Lyssandra didn’t have him in her grasp for long, but it was enough to cause serious damage. 

“You are the High Lord,” Rowan stated once he recognized that your mate would be alright. “The one who rules two courts and allowed the one in which my daughter lived to be neglected.” Rhys slouched, knowing his charm wouldn’t work here. He was the enemy and rightfully so. He couldn’t get past anyone’s mental shields, and he knew you had shown him that. He wasn’t upset, but more surprised by the magic between these worlds being so similar.  

“Yes, and you must be her father who stole one of my people away,” Nesta rolled her eyes at Rhysand. He was too unstable to have this conversation. Lorcan snarled at the High Lord, his stature prepared to rip the male’s head clean off.

If any of you even attempt to kill one another, I will rip both of these worlds apart. Will everyone please shut the fuck up while I help Yrene save my mate?

All the anger writhing around halted at your voice. Rhysand assumed the golden shield blocked everything, but perhaps you managed to manipulate the magic. He was impressed, and let it show. 

Rowan steadied himself as he calmly collected his anger. Now was not the time to discuss the ethics of where you come from. He was certain you already planned to have that discussion with the High Lord.

“Apologies for my brother; we were not expecting… we did not know what to expect,” Cassian stepped forward in an attempt at diplomacy for your sake. “I am Cassian, General of the Illyrian Warriors. This is my mate, Nesta Archeron, and my brothers are Rhysand and Azriel. We’ve been searching for a way to reunite Azriel with his mate for two months, 3 weeks, and six days.”

Rowan felt his chest ache at the exact amount of time. Had it truly been that long? He’d never asked you if you were counting the days. It was stupid, but he should’ve asked.

“I’m not sure I can mend the wing,” Yrene said as the bleeding began to slow down. 

“I’ve done it before, I can do it,” You sniffled as you gently turned Azriel on his side. He growled in pain, which made you sigh in relief. Pain was good; he would live. Aelin watched as your hands hovered over the thin flesh. 

“Do you need help stabilizing-”

“With all due respect, don’t even attempt to get near his wings. They are sensitive, and these brutes are territorial about them,” You explained, unknowingly still projecting your voice to everyone. Nesta snickered at you as the two Illyrians she stood between became bashful. Oh, how she missed your snide commentary. It felt so good to have it back in her life. Though your time together was limited, she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed having such dry and colorful humor in her life. It was then she knew how perfect the mating bond had gotten Azriel’s match. 

“My name is Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, King Consort of Terrasen. Forgive me for how I took my daughter away. We did not know she had a mate, and… I have lived with centuries of regret for missing the opportunity of knowing my daughter,” He said formally, honestly, as you wished it to be. He eyed the female between the two winged warriors, sensing the difference in power. 

“You were once human,” He stated. Nesta’s nostrils flared, uncertain if you had told everyone here about them. No, you were too smart to do that, and too respectful of Azriel’s privacy to expose such details. She thought it best to be honest in this situation as well.

“Yes, and now I’m fae,” she answered.

“But you are not the only one,” Manon stated. “Two sisters, correct?” 

“How did you know?” Rhysand asked.

“She’s a witch,” Cassian answered. His mind thought back to that day in the training camps. Of course, any fae could tell that Nesta was Made, but to fully accuse her of being a witch was more of a fact. He did not know much about witches, but he knew certain characteristics and traits that belonged to The Mother’s fable. Could it be that their worlds were more connected? He didn’t have the mental power to think of it anymore. Not when his brother’s life was still in the balance.

“Certain bloodlines are more distinct in scent. Your friend is also a witch, should you decide to create a coven,” Manon smirked. It was a tempting idea, and would scare the life out of Rhysand. Perhaps if he decides to continue to be an ass toward you, she’ll begin to scheme.

“He’s stable,” Yrene sighed. “I had to put him to sleep to let him continue to heal on his own.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, lowering the golden shield. You stood, staring at the scene created. This was going to take a significant amount of willpower to get through, and you were already exhausted as it was. 

You first went to Lyssandra, pushing past the sight of your mate’s blood on her. She needed you most before anyone else.

“I’m so sorry,” She cried. You closed your eyes and shook your head.

“It was an accident, I would’ve done the same at the sight of the weapons had I not known. Please don’t cry anymore,” You whimpered. Cassian balked at your kind demeanor. Rhysand and Nesta were the same, but they knew deep down they did not earn the right to see this side of you. 

“Go with Aelin and my dad back to the castle. Aedion is already waiting for you,” You said, nodding toward Fenrys. Cassian’s brows furrowed in confusion. How is that possible?

“Manon, can Abraxos take him to the castle?” You asked, more vulnerable than you were a moment ago. Nesta understood. There was a vulnerability that you could allow yourself to have with certain people. She thought of her friends and their daily routine of training at the house of wind. 

“Of course, we’ll take him to the infirmary,” Manon promised. You thanked her before nodding toward Yrene to head off with Chaol. Abraxos snarled at the three unknown fae as he breezed past them with Dorian. The King used his magic to lift your mate and secure him on the wyvern. His mate nodded for him to hurry along, and he knew it’d be best not to test you in such a vulnerable state by staying. 

“Cassian, go with them. I promise I will take care of Nesta,” You said firmly. Cassian wasn’t sure what to do, glancing at his High Lord.

“Do as the princess says. You have no jurisdiction here,” Lorcan stated, and you shot him a deadly glare. He apologized immediately. 

“As you wish, princess,” Cassian teased as he walked by. He kissed the side of your head before leaving. “It’s good to see you again, spitfire.” You gave him a soft grin before shooing him away. 

“Dad, are you coming back with us?” You asked Vaughan. He surveyed the last standing people here, curious as to what game you were playing. Two powerful fae from your realm, and two from here. Not to mention the Rhuks in the sky, surveying from above. No, this wasn’t a battle. This was a power play to get back at the high lord. He grinned at your intelligence. 

“I think you’ve got it from here, sweetheart. Let me know what you’ve decided,” He winked, kissing your cheek, and transforming into his osprey. You chuckled, appreciating his worry and respecting his boundaries. You stepped closer to Rowan, finally allowing the fear to take over. He didn’t hesitate to hold you close. 

“It’s all right,” He promised. 

“They’re not to be treated like prisoners, do you understand me?” You sniffled. He recognized how strong you were trying to be. He admired it. 

“Of course,” He promised. You nodded and stepped away, finally addressing the High Lord and Valkyrie. 

“Princess?” Rhys asked.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself about. I will give you the bare minimum of what I’ve learned about myself. These are peaceful people who’ve already bettered their world after such an awful war. Do me a favor, as your brother’s mate who is terrified right now, and do not disrespect them,” You warned. “As of right now, I make the rules, and you will follow them. I know better than to threaten you, and I will not do such a thing to Feyre and your son.” Rhys nodded, unsure if he even wanted to bring you back now. He quickly cleared his mind of that thought, reminding himself of his personal mission here. 

“As you wish, we’re not here to create any disturbances,” He promised and meant it. You nodded before looking at Nesta. The Archeron sister allowed her vulnerability to show, knowing it was safe with you. This wasn’t part of the plan, and as she studied you, she realized it was about to become more complicated than before.

Part 9 Warnings: smut (remembered, decided to feed y’all some bc it’s gonna get wild), trauma (remembered), grief, irl trauma Note: um… life has been lifing and I desperately needed to step away from this fic for a while. Grief, car problems, and a weak immune system were snatching me to filth, but as the horrors persist, so shall I.

“Shift,” Lyssandra commanded. You nodded, picturing the animal you wanted to transform into. Aelin noticed that your preferred animal form is the lioness, gifted to you by Gavriel. The sight tugged at her aching chest. You would’ve loved her, uncle. She’s resilient. She thought as you returned to your human form. You were trying your best to hide your pride, but it felt too good to have your full power. You did your best not to use it all up, too afraid of causing another yielding, but you never found the end of your power. It was terrifying and impressive.

“Try the hawk,” Aelin said. You nodded, your eyes closing as you focused on Rowan’s animal form. You thought of how far you’ve come in your relationship with him. It had flipped completely from when he kidnapped you. You found yourself seeking him out more when the nights were too long. He would ease you with his ice magic, knowing you could do this for yourself. It was the thought that counted. You wanted him to be your father. Those memories guided you into the feathered form. You blinked rapidly to adjust to the difference in sight. Aelin grinned, and you knew you had replicated the animal perfectly. 

“Good, let’s test your endurance,” Lyssandra smiled, shifting into her snow leopard form. She opened the shield to her mind for you before sprinting south. You took to the sky, hovering above her and dodging tree branches. Sparrow. Lyssandra commanded, and you shifted again. Your feathers bristled at the change of size and loss of speed. Your wings flapped harder to catch up before diving lower so you wouldn’t lose the leopard in the trees. Lion. You shifted again, the weight of the new form dropping you to the ground. In an effort to keep up, you rolled on the ground and got up in an instant until you passed Lyssandra and turned east to avoid getting too close to Vaughan’s cabin. 

Lyssandra was impressed with your reflexes. Yrene’s work healing you had done wonders. She was curious about the whip used to lash you and how it managed to weaken your magic. She was repulsed that such a weapon existed, even more so that it was used on a child. If she ever met the High Lord of your home, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hold back her anger. 

The little folk! You squealed in your mind. Lyssandra was curious as to why they appeared. You did have ties to Terrasen, but none that would reveal them to you as they did for Aelin. Follow them. Shift into a fox. She said, and you obeyed, keeping a safe distance to avoid startling the adorable creatures. The little folk beamed, beginning to lead the way for you and your sister-in-law. You notified Aelin, and she smiled to herself before returning to the castle. 

The people of Terrasen bowed to their queen, halting their preparations for your coronation. In a week, your title will officially be changed to Princess Whitethorn Galathynius of Terrasen and Doranelle. Aelin told you it wasn’t necessary to take her last name, but you insisted. I’ve never had a full name or family. I want to have your last name as well. The gesture touched Aelin, and she most definitely did not cry that night to Rowan about not wanting you to leave. 

“Aelin, we might have found something,” Manon said as a greeting when the queen arrived at the palace. Aelin noticed the slight disappointment in the witch’s golden eyes. She was glad to know she wasn't the only one feeling the same way. Regardless of what they wanted, it was the right thing to send you home to your mate. He has to be going mad without you. 

Aelin nodded and followed Manon to the library. The scribes had been working day and night to restore every lost record since the war. The Crochans and a few scribes from Wendlyn had been crucial to all that information. Aedion was eternally grateful for their help. He often thought about how you would soon be part of this world’s history. It made him smile, knowing that he wasn't alone in carrying his father’s legacy. He tried not to think about how that legacy would weigh only on him once you returned to your world. He tried not to think in general about you leaving. He wasn't sure he could handle it. 

“What did you find?” Aelin asked as she entered the library. Rowan frowned at his mate as he read over the borrowed books from Doranelle. Once Maeve’s reign ended, many of the old tomes she had hidden held important answers that would have helped during the war. 

“We would need wyrdkeys to send her home, but there is a way to open a rift with the wyrdmarks and salt,” He explained. Aelin nodded as she thought of which wrydmarks would work. 

“If we go to Endovier, we could collect the salt and make a gate. It would take time, but perhaps we could make a permanent door. If she ever wants to visit,” Aelin said softly. She didn’t want to go back to that place, but if it meant helping you, she would. 

“I’m going to miss her,” Dorian frowned.

“We still have her. Let’s make the most of our time left with her,” Lorcan said. Everyone agreed before starting their new search for the correct wyrdmarks. Though the group didn’t want to, they persisted for the love they have for you and what you had given them. You did not fight in their war, but you healed it. They had begun the process of making their world great, but you made it better.

-

You carefully trotted behind the Little Folk, following their path to wherever they wanted you to go. Lyssandra followed behind you, taking note of your improvements in your shifting. It was the longest you had kept one form without tiring. She was thoroughly impressed. 

You continued to follow the Little Folk, your fox form grinning at the different elements they worked for. Aelin explained that they’re faeries and usually help when she needs them most. They were a key aspect of assisting Aelin to get home. You often thought about what the young queen had gone through. You didn’t see much of that time in her mind, unable to bear witness to the horrors she and Fenrys faced. You wondered if Azriel had ever held someone captive similarly. The thought didn’t sit well with you, but you knew better than to critique his work. Everyone had a role, and he never gave you a reason to believe he enjoyed torturing people. 

“I think the only time I’d enjoy it is if it were your parents. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned like that,” He whispered as you lazily traced your finger down the planes of muscle on his stomach. 

“What about your father?” You asked. 

“I think the threat of who I am in this court is enough, unless you’d like to torture him,” He smirked, gently pushing your hand lower until your fingers made contact with his cock. You grinned, knowing he was always excited at the idea of you finally letting go of your anger. 

“You just want to fuck me senseless while I’m covered in the blood of your enemies,” you joked, pulling away entirely. Azriel snarled, moving quicker than you expected, and pinned your arms above your head. He noted the wicked gleam in your eyes, and without warning, he slid his cock into you. You bit your bottom lip at the delicious stretch as your legs fell open more. 

“I will fuck you senseless anyway and anywhere I can, my love. Never forget that,” He pulled out until the thick head of his cock was the only part left inside you before slamming back into you. Your wanton cry bounced off the walls of your expanded shield as Azriel bit down on your throat until the hint of metal hit his tongue. It was the most primal claim of you he’d made so far, and it was enough to drive your instincts mad. You flipped him on his back and dragged your nails down the swirls of ink on his chest.

“The feeling is mutual. You are mine, Azriel,” you sighed, languidly moving on his cock until he was impatient enough to take over and fill you over and over until you could fall asleep.

You halted your movements, too lost in your thoughts and longing for your mate. He’d unknowingly claimed you. The thought alone had made a tear shed from your fox eyes. The Little Folk gave you a moment, understanding the strange fae they felt connected to. You only had ties to this world through magic and new friendships, but almost every part of you screamed to them that you belonged here. Brannon would tell them to help you, so they did and would continue to do so. 

Lyssandra stepped closer to you, licking away your tears in comfort. You nestled the snow leopard, appreciating her sentiment before looking at the Little Folk to continue. A few of the faeries came closer to you, taking advantage of the break to create a small floral crown for you. The gesture was well received, and you gently trotted in place in thanks. You couldn’t wait to tell Azriel about these gentle creatures. 

You continued following the faeries, noting you were once again headed south. The scent of your father being near hit you first, and Lyssandra noted it as well. The shifter recognized it as part of you, but paid no mind to bringing it to attention. Vaughan would come when he is ready.

Slowly, you made your way past the trail to his cabin. Odd, you thought. You could’ve sworn they were bringing you to him. What were they up to?

Back at the castle, Aelin and Rowan were taking a break from researching and planning. Dorian was still reading the old tomes lent from the Southern Continent. Occasionally, his eyes would flick up to his mate on the other side of the library. The Crochan queen stood tall and strong as always, but her books were not the same. Centuries-old tomes kept safe by the hidden Crochans were her reading material. She wanted to know if there had been any reports of missing witches vanishing from this world. It would help her understand how you were born and what relatives you had in common. The entirety of your existence had perplexed the courts of this world. Such power shouldn’t be possible, yet here you are, like a gift from the dead gods. Or would it be the gods of your world? Did they deem you unfit or unsafe for their world? No, that isn’t you. You were too smart to wreak havoc. It made more sense for you to be brought here as aid than as terror. You had the power to create total peace or chaos. That wasn’t what you wanted, no matter how beautifully skilled you are. You just wanted a happy life with your mate and to attempt to get to know his family. 

“Where are they now?” Manon asked Aelin. Dorian sat up straighter at the sound of his mate’s voice. Rowan watched him, curious to see when he was going to announce their nuptials. 

“Headed south in Oakwald, why?” Aelin asked.

“Curiosity, you don’t feel anything?” Rowan and Aelin shared a look as they tried to sense whatever the witch was concerned about. Rowan stood up, facing the southern windows as if he could see you beyond the city walls. Don’t push yourself. I can't lose you. 

For a moment, Aelin felt it. Something… unsettling, unfamiliar was coming. She tried to call for you, but she felt nothing in whatever bond tied you to her. They're too far. It was too risky, and she wondered what could've possibly caused you and Lyssandra to drift so far away. 

“We need to find them,” Lorcan said, grabbing his cloak. The urgency of his movements had everyone confused. He glanced between Rowan and Fenrys, his brothers, already disliking what he needed to say. “It feels like death.” Suddenly, The Cadre, their queen, and Crochan's queen were moving. If Lorcan didn't like it, they needed to go. 

—

How long has it been? Cassian asked through his mind. He didn't understand what exactly had happened, but he knew whatever magic was at hand made it easy to breathe underwater. 

I'm not sure; it only felt like minutes. Nesta responded. She didn't like this. She didn't like the uncertainty of the plan. It’d be a miracle not to land in enemy territory.  

Your doubt isn’t helping, Nesta. Rhysand commented. If Nesta could move her body, she would slap her brother-in-law. I'm only stating a fact. 

Get out of my mind, Rhysand. She seethed. Azriel inwardly rolled his eyes. None of them was helping. The magic is us. All our power is concentrated on guiding us. That means no mental shields. He explained before tugging on the bond. His family felt it, the security in the golden thread connecting you to Azriel. Up until now, Rhys didn't understand how intense your bond was. To him, it all felt rushed, but now… he was in awe of his brother. The bond gave him comfort and fueled his guilt for doubting you. 

Nesta and Cassian knew the bond was strong. The male of few words expressed it every day that passed. Nesta could remember when Azriel began to smile more at breakfast. She didn't question it back then, but the timeline fit. It was when the mating bond snapped into place. She'd never seen him so at ease. 

I'm sorry, Az. I didn't realize-

You didn't. You assumed the worst because of where she comes from. Don't ever speak to my mate like that again. Azriel snarled. He did his best to hold his tongue, knowing you could handle his brother on your own, but he was exhausted. The time apart was horrible, but it gave him time to process his emotions. He hated how you were treated, and he despised how conflicted he felt. It didn't matter anymore; he was going to get you back, and he did not give a fuck what his family thought. 

The Little Folk halted behind a row of stones lining the east edge of the pond. You tilted your fox head, wondering what the faeries were trying to explain. Lyssandra circled the pond, sensing something beyond fish in the water. She could've sworn that the water glimmered like starlight. 

What do you think it is? You asked Lyssandra as you stepped close to the pond. All you saw was your reflection. You hadn’t fully appreciated yourself since being kidnapped. Your eyes were brighter, livelier, and internally, you felt stronger. The water rippled, startling you. Get back, be prepared. Lyssandra said firmly, preparing herself to pounce on whatever was coming. The water bubbled in the center, and you waited to see what would be revealed. The Little Folk had vanished, completing their task of aiding you. Your heart was pounding at the loss of their comfortable company. More bubbles emerged from the water, and you were ready to attack, until you felt it.

Stronger than before, the familiar security of the tug. You tugged back, unsure if it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Lyssandra… Before you could warn her, taloned wings rose from the water. You couldn’t believe it. Could it truly be him? You needed to shift. He wouldn’t recognize you like this. His mop of soft curls began to appear, and you took the chance to shift back into your fae form. 

Lyssandra didn’t realize what you were doing, her instinct to protect overruling any logic. The moment she saw the weapons on the unfamiliar male, she pounced. Her jaw opened wide, and her teeth sank into flesh. It wasn’t until she heard your piercing scream that she scented you on the male.

Aelin and the Royals heard your screams. Rowan didn’t hesitate to shift and soar to you. His worst fears clouded his mind. His mate didn’t have time to think past your scream. She began sprinting ahead while Dorian and Manon flew above on Abraxos. “If she’s-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Manon snapped at her mate. She refused to believe the worst until her eyes landed on you. On horseback, Yrene and Chaol rode Farasha, the stallion’s hooves barely brushing the ground at the speed they were going. Yrene held onto her husband tightly, praying to the gods that no longer existed that when they found you, you’d be unharmed and only startled.

yeah... hope y'all enjoy (i'm sorry)!

Part Six

Warnings: daddy issues, blood, brother/sister issues.

“Again,” you nodded, following Rowan’s orders as you tried to shift into the white-tailed hawk. You managed to change into a wolf, lion, panther, and an osprey from your dad. For some reason, the hawk proved to be the most challenging. A beak replaced your mouth, arms turned into wings, but you couldn't fully shift into the animal. 

You were tired, and Rowan saw it in your eyes. He looked at his wife. The concern on her face was similar to his. You were going to burn yourself out to prove your innocence. 

“It’s alright, we can stop there for today,” Rowan said, and you stopped. Your breathing was ragged as you returned to your fae form. You hadn’t had a chance to train your shifting power before landing here. It was draining you more than your usual use of power. You needed to give up your shield to shift, but you couldn’t. Not with Chaol constantly keeping his hand on the pommel of his sword behind you.

“That’s enough for today,” Dorian said, and you thanked him before nearly collapsing. Lorcan quickly caught you, carrying you back into the castle to your bedroom. He didn't like seeing you like this. He didn't agree with these trials, but he wouldn't force you to change your mind. You chose this because you knew you could do it, even if this first trial was barely a success. 

“Have you eaten today?” Yrene asked as she walked with Lorcan to your room. You nodded, feeling like you were burning from the inside. You hissed at the pain slicing through your skin like talons. The stupid bird wants to come out, and you can't do it. 

Yrene heals the wounds she can see on your body, leaving more scars on your skin. She noticed the white lines across your face, curious about what or who did it to you. “Make it stop, it hurts,” you whimpered, moving to your side and curling into a ball. Tears streamed down your face at the pain and fear. This bird was going to tear you apart from within. Yrene gasped at the blood beginning to seep through your tunic on the back. Lorcan didn't hesitate to rip your shirt open. His stomach churned seeing the seven jagged scars on your back beginning to reopen. 

“I can stop the bleeding, she needs to settle to make it stop,” Yrene said and began to work. Rowan, Aelin, and Fenrys felt ill seeing your back all bloodied and tattered. Aelin squeezed Rowan’s hand as Yrene cleaned and healed your back. Lorcan kept soothing you, brushing your hair away from your sweaty face until you stopped writhing. 

“She’s burning up,” Lorcan said, and Rowan stepped forward. He set his hand on your forehead, letting the ice soothe you. You began to relax as the ice magic cooled your body. You needed to train that power more, too. 

“What the Hel was that?” You rasped out. 

“You were burning out. It happens when you've reached your limit in your power,” Rowan said, his thumb soothingly rubbing your cheek. He noticed the bruising under your eyes, the cracks in your lips, and the beginnings of your cheeks sinking in. “What did you eat this morning?” 

“Toast,” you sighed as Yrene finished healing you. You thanked her as she left with Aelin. The two females were quietly discussing the scars on your back. It didn't sit well with them. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Fenrys asked as he handed you a new shirt. The males turned their backs to you as you changed. Even sliding the shirt on was a task. You had no energy left. 

“I don't sleep well, it… takes a lot for me to fall asleep,” you flushed as you tried to explain with as little detail as possible. Your fathers did not need to know about your sex life. Lorcan smirked at you, but you weren't in the mood for teasing. 

“Sometimes a blocked shift is an emotional block. Is there anything particular that’s bothering you?” Fenrys asked. What wasn't bothering you? You separated it all in your mind. They knew the obvious topics, but this felt different. 

“How did you ignore me for so long when you knew the bond between us was stronger than the others?” Lorcan and Fenrys knew the answer wasn't for them. They quickly kissed your forehead before leaving. 

“When we returned from your world, we were sent into war. Once I was finished there, the female I believed to be my mate was murdered. I spent many years in my animal form, mourning her, our unborn child, and leaving you,” he explained. “After it all, Maeve had run me around for centuries. I hadn't had time to mourn leaving you until I met Aelin. It was never my intention to forget you, but I knew I couldn't bring you here. Maeve would have executed you without blinking. Please know that the intention was never to forget you.”

You didn’t realize the timeline was so close. None of them had the time to grieve leaving you, and you wallowed in the pain of being forgotten for centuries. You found yourself reaching for his hand as the even ground slowly became solid. The bond between you strengthened as he squeezed your hand tightly. You felt his truth, and you couldn’t stop the tears as he allowed you into his mind. He was constantly in pain like you. It felt like a punch to the gut. 

“Get some rest, I’ll bring some food later,” Rowan said softly, cradling your head tenderly. “We can talk more as well.” You nodded, lying down and closing your eyes to finally get some rest. 

Rowan left your room, pausing once he closed your door to take a deep breath. Aelin and Yrene were still in the hallway discussing the marks on your body when they saw Rowan. Aelin quickly went to her mate’s side, consoling him as he tried to stop himself from crying anymore. He’d done it every night before bed after his wife went to sleep, unable to stop the guilt from consuming him. 

“It’ll get better, Rowan. She’ll get the vote,” Aelin said softly.

“Even when she held my hand, her shield was up. I caused this,” He breathed out. Aelin shushed him, tugging him toward their bedroom to speak. Yrene frowned before poking her head back into your room. You were resting, but she noticed the tear stains on your cheeks. One night of fighting with Chaol wasn’t enough. She had more to say, and she didn’t care who saw.

With purpose, she strode to the training room. Servants and guards noticed the path of fury the healer was leaving in her wake. It didn’t take long for word to get around that another room should be prepared for Lord Chaol in case his wife threw him out.

Yrene spotted her husband immediately, and he was laughing at something Nesryn had said. Laughing. The sight sent her into a rampage as the guards halted their sparring matches to see what this small woman would do.

Without hesitation, she stepped in front of her husband and smacked him directly across his face. The gasps were audible, the tension so thick in the air. Aedion held back his smirk. 

“Perhaps we should give them space,” Nesryn said softly, taking Sartaq’s hand and walking away. “Dorian, Aedion?” She asked. They looked at each other and shook their heads. Nesryn was going to lose her mind with this bunch. 

“Yrene-”

“No, I’m going to speak and you are going to listen,” she said, her finger pointed at him like a death mark. Chaol swallowed, fearful of what emotional damage this would give him. “You had every right to deny the proof of her powers, but you are going to kill her with these trials. She clearly does not know how to use her gifts besides to protect herself. She's scared and confused, and you are taking advantage of that. In this case, you are no better than Erawan and Maeve.” 

Dorian and Aedion then decided they needed to leave. It was a cruel comparison, but necessary. Aedion didn't like seeing his sister in pain; he had constantly felt it through whatever bond you shared with him. 

“And one last thing,” Yrene said as tears began streaming down her face. “You’d rather accept your fate and die? Damning our son to live with your father, to subject him to the abuse you suffered instead of fighting for your life? What the fuck was that, Chaol?” Chaol bowed his head, finally realizing the mistake he had made. He was being selfish to make a point, and that was not right. 

“Don’t even get me started on politics if she accepted her fate. You risked the strongest allyship Adarlan has. If she were murdered, everything we fought for five years ago would have been for nothing,” she reminded him, and he nodded. “You’re lucky none of her fathers snapped your neck there.” 

“They prefer you more than me,” he said softly. “I can't blame them, I’m difficult.” 

“You are, but she is not yours to control. Chaol, she just wants to be with her mate and make her world better. She has a nephew she hasn't met yet, and she was only with her mate for two weeks. Do you realize how terrible that is?” He nodded again. A horrible guilt sank in his stomach. Is this how his father felt when his mother left? He couldn't believe he was turning into his father. He tried so hard to be better. He needed to try harder. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said softly. Yrene sniffled, nodding to herself, her frown prominent. She would be angry about this for a few more days. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. She needs to rest right now. Don't bother coming to the room tonight. I’ll be working on a way to heal the scars from her whipping that are on her back.” It was a low blow, but he needed to understand that you hadn't been shown kindness until you accepted the bond with Azriel. He hated that it worked. The parallels are too uncanny. 

“Well, that was beautiful,” Aelin grinned as she emerged from behind a pillar. Some habits were hard to kick, not that she minded. It came in handy, and it was fun to gossip about it with The Cadre. The queen had come a long way from killing people. Though her mind wasn't set on how she'd handle Chaol. 

“You always enjoyed seeing someone call me out,” he sighed. “Why didn't you kill her when she told you about her powers?” 

“Because she’s my mate’s daughter, my friends’ daughter, my cousin, and because I knew when she arrived she wouldn't be a threat. She constantly has a shield around her, even when she’s sleeping,” Aelin shrugged. “Politics aside, she did not come here by choice, and killing her would be stupid. Her mate’s brother is a High Lord, the most powerful in her world’s history. I don't want to see what that means.” She had a point, and Chaol decided to start fixing the damage he had caused. The Royals were the first move before he worked up enough courage to face you and your fathers. 

—

Feyre watched as her family poured into Rhys’s study. Since you were taken, the meetings felt like they dragged on and were unimportant. She couldn't handle seeing Azriel so broken each day that passed. Thankfully, Nesta had become his rock. The unspoken bond of friendship between them was as strong as hers with Cassian. Yet nothing could console the Shadowsinger like you being home. 

Nesta sat next to Azriel, setting her hand on his elbow while her thumb gently rubbed his skin. Unlike the High Lady and the General, they didn't need words to understand each other. 

Mor entered after Cassian, plopping herself in the chaise lounge, exhaustion written over her beautiful features. Each trip to the continent was spent researching the warriors who had taken you. There were only four, but the older tomes spoke about seven. Curiosity took over her mind, wondering what had happened to the others. 

Feyre remembered what Rhys had shown her. What he saw in your mind when you reached out. The male with snow white hair and golden skin. What intrigued her more was the tattoo that traveled down the side of his face and neck. It wasn't like anything she could recall. 

“Mama!” Nyx squealed from her lap, wriggling out of her arms to waddle over to Azriel. Though the male was in the deepest depression of his existence, he still cracked a smile and picked his nephew up. 

Azriel held his nephew, letting him get comfortable. He thought about you and the stories you told him about the temple. The young fae you helped raise, while still being young, too. He knew you’d adore Nyx. It was the first thing on his agenda when he returned to introduce you to him. He wanted you to have a proper introduction to his odd family. He had many plans for your return, and he prayed you wouldn't find his hovering overbearing. 

“Have you two spoken about having children?” Rhys asked. 

“She was cleansed,” Azriel said softly. “Don't worry, any children you have, we will spoil and treat them like our own.”

“Speaking of, has anyone checked in on Elain in the Day Court?” Cassian asked. 

“She’s doing well. Lucien won’t leave her alone, and Helion has been preparing a nursery. He's excited to be a grandfather,” Feyre smiled. She made a promise to check in with Elain at least once a week. Her sister had gently hovered with her pregnancy, and she wanted to make sure Elain didn't feel alone. 

“He also wanted to meet her,” Azriel whispered. “But I promised myself that she would meet Nyx first, then my mother.” Mor’s head whipped toward Rhys in shock. Feyre stood in awe for a moment. She didn't know much about Azriel’s mother, and the admission of her being alive warmed something in her heart. To trust you enough to have you meet her spoke volumes. 

“Apologies for the delay, Amren needed to use the restroom,” Varian teased. The group snickered as Amren hissed at the male. 

“Even with the addition of public restrooms?” Rhys smirked. 

“Watch it, boy,” Amren warned before turning to Azriel. His shadows moved closer to him, still unsettled by the female after all these years. “There is a way to find the world your mate is in.” 

“How?” Cassian asked as the shock and relief began to settle across his brother’s features. The news was better than he expected. He wasn’t sure whether to cling to the hope more or settle his excitement. His shadows were no help either. The sentient power swirling around him is in delight at the thought of bringing you home. 

“There are two ways. One would be to make a gate with crystals and obsidian salt, but we do not have the time or resources to make a big enough gate to bring the Illyrians-”

“No,” Azriel said firmly. “We are not going to start a war.”

“High Lord?” Amren asked, annoyance vibrating off of her. 

“This is Azriel’s mission, what he says goes,” Rhys shrugged with a soft smile. He was happy at the news, and he promised his brothers and mate that he would not overrule any decisions on the extraction mission. Amren’s eye twitched slightly before she continued.

“Fine. The other way would be to use the pond of starlight in the Spring Court. It’s made of the crystal we need, and with some obsidian salt sprinkled in, it should work,” Amren said as everyone internally groaned. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta all rolled their eyes while Cassian snarled softly. 

“That will be more difficult. From what Eris and Lucien have mentioned, the beast hasn’t left that spot in a while,” Rhys sighed before looking at his brother and how he securely held his son as he napped. “Who are you willing to take with you?”

Azriel thought for a moment. Of whom he trusted and wouldn’t disobey his orders. Amren was not his first choice, nor were Feyre and Mor. Not because he thought them incapable, but because they could smoothly run the court without things going awry. Amren and Mor could instill the fear of the gods in the Illyrians while Feyre tended to the Court of Dreams. Mor already knew how to manage the Court of Nightmares as well. He needed a group that could help him calmly through this. He needed diplomacy, charm, and… he hated that he had to ask the question.

“Will you be alright if I take Rhys?” He asked his High Lady. It was a weighted question. Their life bargain had caused so many issues before, but Feyre knew her friend needed her brothers.

“Keep him safe, and we will be fine. I trust you to do that,” She said firmly as pride flooded her bond with Rhys. This wasn’t a court mission. It was family, and Azriel needed the support in whatever manner he needed. 

“Who else?” Rhys asked.

“Cassian and Nesta,” He said firmly. Rhys inwardly groaned as he stared at his sister in law. The shock was palpable between them. Azriel should have explained better. “Rhys will be able to communicate with whomever we encounter, Cassian will be the defense, and Nesta will be there to remind us all of what true importance of the mission. She will not deviate because her emotions take over. Valkyries are better in that sense,” he smiled to his friend. Her eyes softened at his explanation. To be honest, Nesta was itching to leave the Night Court and travel a bit. Perhaps venturing into another world will help. 

“You expect Rhys and Nesta to go on a mission together?” Mor asked. 

“No,” Azriel said firmly. He didn't like Mor’s tone. Her eyes narrowed as she settled her shock. Azriel had never spoken to her in such a manner. Yet it didn't matter, and Azriel moved his gaze to Rhys. “I need them to.” 

The sincerity in his eyes dissolved any argument Rhys had. His eyes flickered to Nesta; there was no argument or remorse in her. Only the steely blue grey color he’s come to discreetly find comfort in. 

“Fine, I will be on my best behavior. As much as I love you, brother, your moping has made me significantly depressed,” Azriel snorted and shot his brother a teasing smirk. 

“Now we’re even for those fifty years,” Cassian left the room, his laughter echoing back into the study. Everyone chuckled softly to avoid waking Nyx. “Cassian is also coming for comedic relief.” 

“A good choice there,” Feyre giggled. They were going to get you back. The hope burned through Azriel’s chest as he continued to hold Nyx close. 

Azriel?

His smile faltered as he heard your voice. Around the room, everyone did the same. You were speaking to all of them. Cassian returned looking haunted. 

Can you hear me? 

Yes. How are you reaching us?

I don't know. I was in my room resting. I… I think I'm still asleep. My dads said that the rifts appear randomly, some are small and others are large. Maybe this one is small enough for me to reach out?

Are you safe? Rhys asked. 

Yes. I almost died, but I'm fine now. 

Almost? Nesta questioned. 

Politics, but it’s water under the bridge now. Only you could downplay almost dying. Everyone in the room rolled their eyes in amusement. The connection was weakening, and Azriel tugged on the mating bond so you knew how much he loves and misses you. 

I miss you too. We have so much to talk about. We've been researching how I could-

The connection was gone. The bond went silent again. Azriel relaxed more into his seat at the sound of your voice. You’re safe, and clearly your relationship with your fathers has improved. 

“Well, that confirms that we won't be needing the Illyrians,” Rhys smiled. Amren sighed, conceding the argument. One day, she will be right to move the forces against this court. 

“All we need to do is plan for the encounter with the beast,” Cassian sighed. 

“And your allergies,” Nesta teased. It was Nyx who laughed first. Nesta’s smile grew at the sound her nephew made. 

Rhys watched the encounter, then looked to Cassian. The pure adoration and yearning in his face made Rhys soften. Their family was growing, and he couldn't wait for you to come back and be part of it all.

note: sorry for such a delay, August was hard.