#pofa

She stared at you intensely, her eyes burning into your soul as you went blank. "Seriously?" Perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "I've seen you hold grudges for centuries, and yet you expect him to forgive you for an argument that happened over half a century ago?"

Both of you fell silent, studying each other across the table. Mor's loyalty to Azriel, despite never reciprocating his feelings, was unwavering—just as yours had been in the past. At times, it made you question if her feelings for him were truly nonexistent, like now. A queasiness churned in your stomach, and your head throbbed with a dull ache. Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach hadn't been the best idea, especially when thoughts of Mor and Azriel intertwined.

You cleared your throat, a newfound coldness lacing your tone as you spoke up. "Every grudge I've held has been a result of something more severe than an argument," you stated, fidgeting with the table linen. "An argument, mind you, that happened because he didn't want me to follow Rhys."

Mor retorted sharply, "Look where that got you." Your heart started pounding, your ears heating. Your gaze dropped in her direction, and a familiar flame ignited within you. "What he did was fucked up, but Y/n, you can be a stubborn brat." You opened your mouth to object, but she raised a hand to stop you. "I'm not trying to be rude. I say this because I care about you. But it's time to own up to your mistakes. Only then, maybe, just maybe, you can find peace again."

Mor's tough love never felt good, but you knew it always came from a place of good intentions. Angry and devastated, you found it hard to accept hearing all that. Sure, you could be opinionated and stubborn at times, but reducing yourself to a brat felt unjust.

Draining your wine, you replied, "I had hoped for a civil conversation with him whenever we did talk." Mor looked skeptical, likely not fully believing you. You did have a record for the last century or so with picking arguments, you blamed being around Mor and Amren so much, and maybe a lot of repressed feelings.

Despite her irritation with you, Mor reached out and took your hand in hers, comforting you with gentle circles on the back of it, like a mother would. "When it comes to you, it seems his shadows turn to flames."

There was so much you wanted to say, but you remained silent, allowing her words to echo in your mind. You couldn't quite grasp their cryptic meaning, but you didn’t want to indulge in the topic too much longer. Mor let go of your hand, standing up. "Feel like grabbing a drink at Rita's?" she asked, her tone changing, a small smirk forming. A way to nurse your wounds.

Shaking your head, you replied, "Not tonight. I need to rest. Traveling today drained me. But thank you." You offered a tight-lipped smile.

"Sweet dreams, little star," Mor said, patting your head before walking away.

The once-dull headache now throbbed prominently in your forehead, and you cradled your head in discomfort. Mor’s conversation seemed to reflect the same argument you had a few days prior with Azriel. Though not filled with as malicious intent as his did, it still left you feeling just as scorned. The house cleared the table immaculately as you stood to make your way to your room.

The hallways were quiet and deserted, illuminated by the dim twinkle of faelights illuminating the red stone of the walls. Each light flickered slightly in your presence before dimming again, but you were too weary to care about such peculiarities of your powers. The House of Wind sprawled endlessly, a labyrinth of doors and spiraling stairs within the mountainside. A few new paintings and plants adorned the halls, likely additions from the High Lady and her sister, but it all remained as you remembered.

When you enter your room, a plate with an assortment of delectable cheese and crackers, accompanied by a tall, refreshing glass of water. Along with a small container of headache powder sat patiently on your bedside table. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you witnessed the house meticulously pulling back your sheets, reminiscent of the way it used to prepare your bed during your childhood days. Gently placing your night clothes at the foot of the bed, a smile of gratitude graced your face, silently expressing your appreciation to the house. It seemed that Rhys had been right about something you thought once you were in bed getting pulled into a restless sleep.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You trudged begrudgingly through the halls of the endless mansion. Feyre had roused you from slumber earlier that morning, informing you of a meeting with the inner circle in an hour. Though you harbored little desire to attend, it was the first order by your new High Lady, making it a matter of importance. You hated how far your room was from the war room. Wishing you had wings, even better, you wished you had a room closer to one of the rooms you frequented the most. Finally almost out of breath, you made it to the entrance. You stalked into the room, you found Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Azriel, and Mor already settled in their seats.

"Tsk, tsk, fashionably late to your first meeting?" Cassian playfully jabbed at you. Walking past him, you discreetly flicked the back of his head, eliciting a muttered "brat" as he dramatically nursed the imaginary injury.

Your steps faltered for a moment, as that word—brat—pricked at your annoyance. Not letting it fester too much, you take a seat between Mor and Lucien. Sitting across from Cassian and Amren, with Azriel positioned diagonally next to his brother, you could feel his intense gaze fixed upon you. Determined not to shudder or shift under his scrutiny, you resolved not to let him see how deeply his words affected you. Deep down, however, you couldn't deny the lingering care you held for him, or the way his presence had consumed your thoughts over the past week like a plague.

"I don't see Feyre and Rhysand, so technically I'm not late," you declared, a smug tone coloring your words.

"Actually, they had other matters to attend to," Amren replied indifferently. It had been less than an hour since you last saw Feyre, leaving you puzzled as to what could have transpired in such a short span of time. Cassian nudged your foot under the table, a silent reminder of his earlier warning. Narrowing your eyes, you retaliated by kicking his shin, relishing in his sharp intake of breath as he winced. "Relax, Y/n!" he exclaimed, while you concealed your smirk, leaning back in your chair with crossed arms.

"Must you be so childish?" Azriel's voice snapped at you, catching you off guard.

Cassian stared at his brother in shock, attempting to defend your actions. “Brother I had started it-“

Beside him, the spymaster exhaled, regaining his composure. "I don't care who started it; I want to get through this as quickly as possible.” he requested, his tone cold.

"Yes, please," you muttered under your breath. The shadowsinger shot you a look.

Though you sensed he had more to say, Amren began speaking before another argument could erupt, cutting straight to the point. "We haven't visited the Court of Nightmares in quite some time. It's about time we made an appearance; I'm sure they're on the brink of chaos by now."

Mor sucked in her teeth, and you could hear Lucien gulp audibly, clearly apprehensive at the thought. You bit your lip anxiously.

"I won't be able to attend. Rhysand, specifically Feyre, has requested that you, Y/n, take the reins tonight," Amren announced, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She seemed unfazed by the prospect of missing out on the formal affair. Uncertainty flickered across the faces of those from the inner circle, unsure of how you would receive the order, except for Azriel, whose expression remained inscrutable.

You fidgeted with your fingers, picking at the hangnails. Before Amarantha, you had taken pleasure in Rhys entrusting you with these meetings, where you handled official business between the Court of Dreams and Nightmares. It had been empowering to witness your family obeying your orders, having spent so long following theirs, only to be shunned upon your return in the aftermath of one of the darkest days of your life. Your parents were ready to condemn you for treason when they first laid eyes on you. That’s when Rhys had appointed you as an emissary. Primarily since you had spent the most time in the court knowing the ins and outs, and as a sick punishment for your family.

Now, anxiety gripped you as memories you had desperately tried to suppress from your childhood. Those memories now attached with the new ones you sought to repress from your encounter with Amarantha. It became increasingly difficult to focus on Amren's words as your gaze wandered blankly through the expansive window behind her, stretching from the floor to the ceiling.

"Azriel will be right beside you for protection throughout the night, Cassian will accompany Mor, with Lucien joining them," Amren continued, a hint of wariness in her words.

"Why-why can't Cass be by my side?" you stammered. "He's a general for a reason." You had an inkling to why Azriel had always been at your side when you’d be in charge of this responsibility, but you also wanted him nowhere near you. Didn’t anyone else think that him and you together was an awful idea at the moment?

"Because Azriel has a more intimidating effect on your family," Amren replied, looking knowingly at him. Azriel remained stoic, mirroring your own defensive posture—scarred muscular arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, stil as a statue. "As I said, it's been some time since we made an appearance. Who knows what they might do? We can't risk any harm coming to the Princess on her first days back at court," she added mockingly. Rolling your eyes, you fought the urge to offer her a vulgar gesture. For that remark alone, she could certainly go to hell.

"Cassian will come to fetch you later, so you can all gather at the townhouse and winnow together," Amren concluded nonchalantly. "Now, I need to speak with Mor and Cassian privately. You three are dismissed; I'm sure Azriel and Y/n are just itching to throw themselves off the dining room veranda by now." She said to you, Lucien, and Azriel. She was right about one thing, you thought to yourself, your chair scraping against the floor as you stood, eager to escape the war room as quickly as possible.

You closed the door to your room, and fell into your bed screaming into the mattress. You were frustrated, overwhelmed, and exhausted from lack of sleep. A small commotion on your nightstand made you jump, looking up, a medium box now laid on the stand. An envelope attached to a deep purple ribbon wrapped around the gift. You sat up, and grabbed it, opening the paper.

‘Give them hell tonight, you've earned it little star. -R&F’

Inside the box was a diadem of silver, stars of different shapes hung all adorning the chain encrusted in emeralds, diamonds of different hues, and sapphires for you to wear tonight. You sighed, a new feeling slithering through your veins. Maybe this was Rhysand’s way of giving you therapy. You all played a game and made a show down in the court of nightmares that the inner circle all got a kick out of at one point or another. Maybe playing the act was what you needed? You had let your mental shield down, letting your thoughts empty to nothing, hoping Rhys would be paying attention.

You planned this intentionally? You thought once your mind was blank.

Me? What would make you think so? Rhys purred in your mind.

You rolled your eyes. Mhm, you two just had to conveniently leave all of a sudden?

That’s a matter for tomorrow, just try not to torture someone to death tonight, especially not our spymaster. He taunted.

Your spymaster, no promises. You clarified.

Have fun, little star. You could feel him poking at your mind to signal he was no longer there.

You threw your shield up, and laid back on your bed. Tonight was going to be interesting.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You fixed your lip shine in the mirror, finishing the final touches to your look before a rhythmic knock on your ajar door sounded.

“You ready?” Cassian peaked before walking into the room.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He let out a low whistle as he examined you. “Your family’s not gonna like that.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” You smirked despite a brief heat rising to your cheeks.

The gown you chose was something you had saved for a trip specifically for the court of nightmares before you had been trapped under the mountain. The bodice had long sleeves and was skin tight, black crystal branches wrapping up your arms, and up your waist with thicker branches covering your chest. The skirt billowed with several layers of gossamer, much like the gown you wore in the day court just several days prior, but had slits dangerously high risking a reveal of your hip bones unlike the other gown. You wore the highest heels you had in your closet that were sure to make you grumpy just by standing in them for more than a couple minutes— exactly why you chose them. Then the diadem that Rhys and Feyre gifted you graced the top of your head and shimmered in the faelight of your room that flickered in your wake, when you felt the satisfaction from Cass’s comment.

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. “I don’t think I even like that.” Then he noticed the slits in the fabric. Rubbing a hand over his face in disbelief. “Mother of the cauldron Y/n, are you even wearing anything under that dress?” He made a face which made you laugh out loud.

“Pig, no need to worry about that!” You slapped his arm lightly before looping yours through it.

“You’re right I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. Cassian was always your comedic relief from your worries, and you were thankful that hadn’t changed. “Could you let Nesta borrow it?” He suggested cheekily.

You groaned disgustedly, “then I would have to burn it afterwards.”

“Good, I don’t want to see you in this gown again after tonight.”

“You’re not my father.” You teased as you two walked out to the balcony.

“Yeah but in my head you’ll always be like my little sister, no matter how much of a brat you are.” He nudged you.

“I hate that word,” you admitted, preparing yourself for flight.

He picked you up bridal style as if you weighed nothing in his arms. You adjusted the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up mid flight. “You know it’s true.” He said, his wings rustling, preparing himself.

You gave him a pointed look, “I’m considering it’s true.” Providing a pinch to his bicep. Without warning he took off into the night sky of Velaris, teasingly loosening his grip on you like he was going to drop you.

“If you keep hurting me, I’ll have to sic my mate on you.” A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“She probably knows you deserve it.” You watched the city below light up under the starry sky.

“Touché,” he smiled. He looked in thought as a silence fell over you two letting you admire Velaris below. You hadn’t had a chance to explore the city since your return, today would’ve been the day if it weren’t for the meeting in the court of nightmares. You could see the rainbow quarters perfectly from above and hear the music in the distance. The stars and moon were close to you as well, the music and being so close the light brought solace to any nerves you may have had. It prickled softly at your skin, seeping into your skin.

“I could guess one person who’ll be excited to see you.” Cassian broke the momentary silence.

“Don’t say his name,” you begged, seeing the angle he was trying to pull.

“Who, Azriel?” He grinned broadly.

“My peace is ruined,” you deadpanned, him chuckling at your disdain.

“Don’t let him being an asshole deter you. He’s been all bent out of shape since your absence. I think he’s just hurt deep down, and those little shadows that are always in his ear when you're around doesn’t help.”

You listened to Cassian ramble, confusion filling you. “You haven’t heard everything he's said to me.”

He relaxed a bit, soaring lower, the familiar townhouse now in your view. “I haven’t heard everything you've said to him either, and I don’t think it’s my business or my right to say anything on the matter given my record. Sometimes you say shit in the heat of the moment, sometimes you say shit to hide what’s actually going on underneath it all. One thing I know whenever it comes to you he’s always all up in arms. Not even Elain can do that to him. I didn’t even see him like that with Mor besides that one time.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, getting ready to land. You gripped his neck tighter, bracing yourself.

“When you’re not annoying, you’re actually wise y’know that?” You were in awe at his words. You weren’t sure how true his interpretation was, but for now it brought you slight comfort and ease about the Azriel situation. He landed with his wings slightly fluttering about, shaking off the wind of the night. He gently set you down, and you tried adjusting yourself now that you were standing. You went to fix the diadem, but Cass pushed your hand away lightly, doing it for you.

“I would hope so, year 600 is creeping up on me fast.”

You laughed softly, “you're about to be an old man.”

“Yeah let’s not talk about that, we’re talking about you remember?” He fixed a loose piece of hair that was out of place. “Try not to let him get to you too much tonight or at least channel it into you being all scary and brooding. I’ve missed you in court, it hasn't been the same.”

“Thank you Cass, and I’m sorry for not visiting.” You said sincerely.

Pulling you into his arms for an embrace, he sighed. “I figured you needed space. There’s nothing wrong with that. Rhys went to the cabin after he came out from under there. You just went to the day court for almost a decade long sabbatical.” He shrugged casually. “You can repay me by training again once you’re settled.” You nodded, pulling away. He wrapped his arm around you, “C’mon we have a party to get to.”

Lucien, Morrigan, and Azriel waited for you two. Azriel was the first to look up at the sound of your heels clicking on floor into the foyer of the townhouse. His hazel eyes darkened, eyebrows slightly narrowing, and jaw clenched at the sight of you. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes traced your body, lingering at the top of the slits of the gown that could expose your hip bones at any sudden movement, before taking in your bare legs that were accentuated by the uncomfortable heels. You felt a warmth in your core that betrayed any ill feelings towards the spymaster, and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You never knew a look would be able to enthrall you so much and ignite such feelings.

He was in his more formal fighting leathers, muscles at full display even underneath the leather, his hair neatly styled back, sciphons glowing under the light of the common room. He was god-like, you couldn’t deny that. Not rugged looking like Cassian or as regal as Rhys, but he was beautiful. You wanted to be sick at thinking these thoughts. His shadows whispered in his ears as he stared at you. You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes as Mor approached you.

“Oh my, my fathers gonna croak, I love it!” She squealed looking at the patterns on your dress. “But we do have to get going, Y/n winnow Cass?” She looked at the male beside you.

You were about to agree, but Azriel spoke up. “I think I should be with her. Just in case. Amren said they’re possibly at a brink of chaos.” His voice was gravelly, and your heart pounded erratically at the huskiness in his tone.

“O-okay? Cassian, let’s come on then.” She looked at you, your eyes were wide in surprise.

Azriel approached you, and his scent of cedar and mist filled your senses making you want to melt even more. You only cleared your throat, straightening your back as his scarred arm reached around you pulling you closer to him as you got ready to winnow. You could feel the rough pad of his thumb near the top of the slit of your dress making your mind blank. His shadows swirled around your wrists in greeting for the first time since you’ve seen him, and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

Mor and Cassian disappeared along with Lucien right behind them. Azriel’s body heat and movement of his hand on your hip was making you flushed, unable to concentrate. Then his lips were close to your ear and you could feel his cool breath on your neck.

“Whatever happens tonight, don’t take it to heart.” The grip on your hip had tightened, and you could feel the sheath of truth-teller in your lower back.

You looked up to him, even wearing your tallest heels he had towered over you, observing the deadly calm on his face. Your gaze lingered on his lips for a second before flirting back to his intense hazel orbs.

You said barely above a whisper, scared your voice would betray your words. “You forget I’m great at this game, shadowsinger.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

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Aaaaand we’re off to the races besties!! I had so much fun writing this part! I hope you’re excited as I am for the next one!!

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