Azriel X You Smut - Blog Posts

stay with me pt 4

<azriel shadowsinger x OFC>

part one, part two, part three, part five

warnings: ANGST, graphic description injuries

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Something was wrong. Azriel didn’t know what, but he could no longer feel Ophelia as strongly on the other side of the bond. Her presence was just a flicker of energy, like a spark that refused to light.

“We’re moving in. Now.” He quietly growled.

Mor, Cassian, and Nesta had all deliberately disobeyed Rhysands instructions to not enter the Autumn Court territory without his permission. They would all surely pay for it.

But at this moment, he didn’t care what Rhysands punishment would be. He could cut off Azriels wings, set his hands alight, and throw him into the Sidra and he would take it. As long as he got Ophelia back. He was beyond grateful that his friends were risking their own lives and Rhysands wrath to find her too.

His shadows cast the corridor in front of them into darkness, snuffing out the fae lights lining the walls. They moved silently, as a unit. Quickly and quietly taking out any guards that they came across. What was more blood on Azriels hands? As far as he was concerned they were all complicit in this crime.

Gaining access to the Forest Palace wasn’t easy. It had taken them entirely too long. They had to wait for changing of the guard and had to slaughter their way through just to get in. It was messy and harsh, but they did it all without raising alarm.

Azriel led them through twisting and turning hallways, going farther and farther down into the lower levels. He didn’t know where he was going, it was just a feeling. He could feel that tug at the bond growing tighter and further down they went.

None of them questioned him, and thank the Mother for that. He wasn’t sure how he would respond. They all were calm and quiet around him since departing from Velaris, as if a single word would set him off.

He supposed it would. After departing the River House, he had flown out into the forest and taken out several acres of trees with his siphons before collapsing. He had been trembling, barely containing the anguish and rage that was crawling under his skin. It was nightfall before Cassian found him, telling him that they were leaving to find her.

Suddenly, the feeling in his chest exploded into a frenzying warmth, spreading across his body. Azriel halted in front of a small, dingy cell, and his friends stopped at his heals.

“What is it?” Mor whispered.

The metallic scent of blood was so overpowering that it almost masked hers. Almost.

He would know that combination of scent anywhere. Jasmine, lavender, and chamomile. With just a hint of lemon. Before it had calmed his wildest nerves. Now, it ramped them up, dreading what he would find in there.

In two strides, he was at the door. He grasped the lock on the cell and the faint blue light of his siphons illuminated the space. He barely heard the metal hit the ground as he flung the door open and rushed in.

What he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ophelia was slumped against the wall, hands chained above her head. Small, precise cuts littered her mostly naked body. Deep burn scars around her neck, wrists and ankles. The only thing that covered her was a red see-through chemise. No. The chemise was white. It was stained red. With her blood.

And Azriels heart stopped beating at the sight of the dagger embedded to the hilt in Ophelia’s side.

“Cauldron-” Cassian gasped, coming to stand beside him.

“Help me.” His voice was tight, despair laced in every word. Azriels eyes stung with unshed tears. No, he couldn’t do that. Not here, not now.

If she didn’t make it-

Cassian braced Ophelia up, mindful of her wounds, as Azriel broke the chains around her wrists. He stooped down and took her small broken form from Cassians arms, careful of the dagger. A soft, broken whimper came from the bloody mass that was Ophelia. It shattered his heart even further.

But she was alive, she was still alive.

“We have to get her back to Velaris.” His voice was raw, full of the promise of death and bone deep despair.

“Winnowing could move the dagger around.” Cassian responded quietly, looking down at her.

“We could take her to the Winter Court-” Mor started.

“No.” Azriel snarled. “She needs to be home, not in some frozen waste land.”

“But the risk-”

“I know the fucking risk!” He was starting to panic now. It was rising to the surface, the pressure building and building against his too tight skin.

“Whatever the decision, it needs to be made now. We have company.” Nesta hissed from the front of the cell.

“Go to them. I’ll meet you back at the River House.”

His shadows swirled around them, Cassian disappeared from sight, his brothers eyes full of sadness and quiet rage. He knew he would make them pay for what they did.

In the cold emptiness, he brought Ophelia closer to him. Praying to the Mother that she would make this, she had to make this. If Azriel needed anything in his life to go right, it was now.

Azriel swore to the Mother and to the Cauldron that when she had recovered, he would tell her everything. About his messy emotions, the feeling of how unworthy he was to her, and that they were mates. He was hers.

But oh, the Mother was cruel.

His feet hit the solid ground just outside the River House, the world swimming back into focus. Panting, he looked down at Ophelia.

His mate.

She almost looked like she was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the agonizing pain he felt on the other side of the bond. It was so intense that he momentarily swayed before reality gripped him by the throat. The dagger was no longer there. It laid several feet away in the grass.

The panic he had been barely keeping at bay finally bubbled over.

Blood was pouring from the wound, fast. Too fast. Gasping, he went to his knees, laying her in the damp morning grass. His scarred hands pressed into her side attempting to staunch the bleed, but it was no use. Blood seeped past his fingers, coating his hands.

Rhys. Rhys I need you.

“Phia? Phia, I need you to open your eyes.” He whispered.

“It hurts.” She whimpered. The pain he heard from her snapped something deep and vital in his head.

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Azriels cheeks were wet with the tears he had been holding back for weeks. No- years.

“Azriel?” Her eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him. “You’re here.” She sounded so relieved, he wondered if she thought this was a dream.

“Yes, Phia. I’m here with you. Now stay with me, help is coming,” He sobbed.

Rhysand!

She muttered incoherently, and it wasn’t til later til Azriel would realize what she was saying.

Stay with me.

The familiar scent of Cassian, Mor, and Nesta invaded his senses, momentarily taking over the smell of blood. He heard one of them cry out, felt their grief slam into him. But he couldn’t look away.

He whispered small encouragements to her, begging and pleading with Rhys in his head to fucking hurry.

Almost there.

“He’s almost here Phia. Just hang on.” His eyes swept down her body, examining the wound. It was ghastly, deep and jagged with infection just starting to set in. Mother, how long had that been in there?

He looked back up to her face and his gut twisted. Her eyes were shut, her lips unmoving. “Hey, hey! Do not shut your eyes. Please,” A painful sobbed ripped from the depths of Azriels chest. “Please open your eyes!”

“So tired.” She whispered, struggling to open her eye lids. “Az, I’m so tired.”

Hands suddenly replaced where Azriels were. Someone was talking, shouting at the others but he wasn’t sure who it was, and he didn’t care. Maybe it was Rhysand, or was it Feyre?

Moving carefully, he cradled her head in his lap. The back of her scalp was sticky with blood, the entire ground around them was drenched in it.

“Stay. Stay here with me.” He whispered to her, smoothing her hair away from her sweaty and sallow forehead.

“You’re my mate.” Azriel choked out in broken sobs. “Ophelia you’re my mate.”

She inhaled to speak, but her chest stilled

The bond went silent.

And Azriel screamed.

stay with me pt 3

azriel shadowsinger x OFC

part one, part two, part four, part five

warnings: torture, violence, gore, angst

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It had been a week since Ophelia left. A week since he heard her laughter, saw her smiling at him or swooning at her dizzying scent. It was already starting to slowly fade from the House of Wind. Without it, Azriel thought he might go crazy.

Even more than usual.

His shadows had told him that the day after…the day after Rita’s, Rhys had picked her up from the balcony outside her room. So, he figured she was out running a mission. But a week was unusual. She was normally gone for a couple days before she came back. Yet something just wasn’t sitting right with him. She had always checked in if she was going to be gone longer than what she said. And as far as he knew, she hadn’t.

And if he asked about her, he would seem desperate.

Okay, he was desperate. Desperate for her. For them to finally happen. Azriel was finally ready to tell her everything that he had been holding back all these months.

When she finally let him kiss her, he thought everything would fall into place. Things would work out, just as they worked out for his brothers. But of course not, nothing was that simple when it came to Azriel. The cauldron had cursed him, it was more than obvious now.

Had he done something wrong? Maybe he had misread the entire situation and took it too far. But she had wanted him, she was just as greedy to touch him as he was her. Everything had felt right, perfect, up until the moment Cassian had interrupted them.

Azriel was still pissed at him for it.

“You alright?” Feyre asked as Azriel stormed through the doors of the River House.

“Fine.” He spat back. As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced.

He didn’t mean to come off hateful towards his High Lady. He stopped walking and sighed up towards the ceiling, before turning around. “I’m sorry, it’s just-” What the fuck could he tell her? “Been a rough week.”

“I understand.” She smiled softly at him, her blue-grey eyes full of knowing. “Come, Rhys said he had something important for everyone.”

It was true, Rhys had summoned everyone to the River House. Maybe it was something Ophelia had relayed back to him and something was finally happening between the Human Queens and the Autumn Court. But as he and Feyre entered one of the sitting rooms, he could tell it was something much worse than that.

Eris was here.

“Now that Az is finally here, we can get started.” Rhys shot Azriel a accusatory glare from across the room.

“As you all know, Az and Phia had been gaining intelligence from the Autumn Court. It has been hard but every piece of information counts.” He began.

Rhys took a steadying breath, place a hand in his mates lower back. “Last week, I sent Ophelia out on a solo mission.”

A knot took form in Azriels chest. His knees felt weak and unsteady.

“She told me she would only be there for a couple of days, but obviously hadn’t returned yet.”

The knot tightened, it was getting hard to breathe.

“Feyre and I thought she may have found out something important and was still running reconnaissance, but when we traveled to the mountains in the Winter Court to see if the mental link would work if we were closer. Yet…nothing.”

The wood of the door frame shattered in Azriel’s hand, splinters embedding themselves into his palm. Many turned to look at him, but Rhys pressed on, ignoring his outburst.

“That’s when Eris returned, and told us.” There was a harsh moment of silence, and Azriels anxiety grew to a tipping point.

“She’s being held captive by my father and brothers.” Eris finished for him.

The room exploded into darkness.

Azriel couldn’t breathe, it felt like his breath was being sucked out of his chest. His ears were ringing, and he could have sworn there was blood on his hands. Whose blood was that? Was it his? When had he ended up on the ground?

Azriel!

His shadows receded back into him, only a little. He shook his head clear of that voice. He could only hear Ophelias. Could only hear her laugh, see her smile, see her.

Azriel!

Another voice. Female this time, he knew that voice. It had shown him kindness and compassion. Tried to look beneath all the scars. Just like Ophelia tried.

Black and red was all he saw.

Suddenly, someone was behind him, gripping him so hard from behind he could have sworn one of his ribs cracked.

His shadows finally dissipated and he was staring down at the wreckage that was Eris. The males face was beaten so badly he was hardly recognizable. Had he done that? He looked down at his hands, knuckles busted open. Hands coated in blood, a mix between his own and Eris’s.

He had definitely done that.

People were shouting at him, shouting at each other. But he couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. All he saw was Ophelia sitting on the counter, smiling at him. He had lost her before he even had her. Now, she was a captive. In the cauldron cursed Autumn Court.

The world suddenly snapped back into focus is a dizzying rush. He spun towards Rhys, teeth bared, pushing who he now realized as Cassian, off of him.

“You sent my mate to die!”

Silence.

Utter silence.

Feyre was the first one to speak. “Your mate is alive, Azriel.” Her tone was calm and steady, how he figured she would have talked to a wild animal who was cornered and scared. “You would have felt…” She trailed off, glancing at Rhysand. “You would have felt it.”

Azriel snarled again, turning on his heel.

“Where do you think you are going?” This voice was not Rhysand, his brother. This was the voice of his High Lord.

“Getting her back.”

“I cannot let you do that, shadowsinger.” Power rumbled throughout the room, the entire house.

A dark, humorless laugh came from Azriel. “You tore half of Prythian apart for your mate.” His voice was as cold as the steel of a blade. “I will do worse for mine.”

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A cold splash of water woke Ophelia up. Gasping, she looked around wildly and found the sneering face of Beron staring down at her, eyes alight with barely leashed rage. She now knew why he was called Lord of Fire. It was evident in those deep-set brown eyes.

Great, she was already starting to go insane.

“Sleep well?” He chuckled, taking a few steps back from her. She didn’t know why, it wasn’t like she could reach him with her arms chained above her head.

“Go fuck yourself.” She spat, spittle flying from her chapped lips.

“So much fire in you, even after we’ve put most of it out.” Beron hummed. “Be good and listen, and maybe my sons won’t visit you tonight.”

Ophelia shut her mouth, biting down on her tongue so hard it drew blood. She didn’t think she could stand another visit from his twisted sons. That would be her final breaking point.

Her fae healing could only do so much to the burn scars around her wrists and ankles.

“Very good. Now,” He cleared his throat. “There once was a little flame princess, who stole the heart of her entire kingdom. She was the youngest of the king's children, having several elder brothers. And when her powers started developing, there was something different about them. They were too bright, burned too hot. So the king went to the queen, asking how this could happen? How could his daughter have the power of light when they were fire?” He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning her face.

“That’s when the king learned that the little flame princess was instead, a little sun princess. That his queen had tricked him into raising not one but two bastard children, right under his nose.”

“So your wife fucked another male, what does this have to do with me?” Ophelia muttered.

Beron inched towards her, a sick and twisted smile spread across his face, unnerving her. “Everything.”

She laughed. Yeah, Ophelia was definitely going crazy.

“The king was torn on what to do. See, he had come to love his little sun princess. But her blood was not his. So, he locked her in a tower, high away from everyone. Determined to keep her safe and secure. He would send his true children in to keep her company from time to time, but soon the king learned that they had scared his beautiful sun princess. She was ugly, littered with hideous scars that no magic would heal or hide.”

Ophelia felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the room from spinning but images flashed behind her eyelids. Images that were too bright and vivid to just be her imagination.

“To end her suffering, the king finally set the little princess free. He let her roam his kingdom for a bit before setting his hounds out. But alas, she has been spirited away to the kingdom of his enemies, a dark and nightmarish kingdom.”

“Stop.” Ophelia wheezed.

“And just when the king was almost done healing from his pain, he found her on the outskirts of his kingdom. A spy.”

The hot hands of the Autumn Court Lord wrapped around her throat, cutting off her airway. Heat danced at his finger tips, searing her skin, charring her pale flesh.

“A spying whore for the Court of Nightmares.”

His hand curled tighter around her throat, and she was sure he was going to break her neck.

“You’re insane.” Ophelia gasped, eyes meeting his. They burned with such hatred that she was sure this was it. He would bring her death.

“Little princess, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

With his free hand, he reached toward his jewel encrusted belt. He pulled on the hilt of a dagger, which had the pattern and swirls of the Autumn Court sigil on the gleaming blade. A blade made of ashwood.

Without even blinking, he plunged the dagger into her side, to the hilt. Pain exploded from the area, her vision going out momentarily. Her instincts kicked in, trying to overwrite the pain by blocking it out. But it was too much, too overwhelming.

Ophelia screamed, her voice going hoarse as she thrashed against the pain, and against his hold on her throat. Her body went into survival mode, bucking and kicking the best she could to get away, to get away from the pain.

“You will die here, just as you were born here.” Beron snarled, finally releasing her throat.

Gasping and sputtering, she tried to reach for the dagger with her bound hands. But she couldn’t reach it. Blood poured freely from her wound, coating the floor. A sliver of thought returned to her and she glared up at Beron, her entire body twitching.

“I…” Blood bubbled out of her mouth and dribbled down her chin. “Will fucking kill you.”

The last thing Ophelia heard was the sound of laughter as Beron left her cell, the sound echoing in the darkness.