Disclaimer: This is a fan work for fan purposes only. All characters belong to S J Maas. Long write our Queen!

Also, content warning: This love triangle may or may not have an anti-cannon outcome. TBH the whole Spring court's been tainted by ACOMAF. Sorry Lucien.

It was midnight in Velaris, and the sea was burning.

At least that was how it looked like from Azriel's standpoint. The docks had been lit up with witchlight, every house and business had their fires burning, and torches hung on every street corner, so that the people would not have to work in silence. Were it not for the protective seals around the place, they would have been visible all the way to Hybern.

Before, there had never been the need for such haste to carry out repairs. War, with the two surprise attacks on Velaris, had installed a new sense of urgency in people - not just to make sure their city was back working at full capacity, but also to put everything right as soon as possible.

But he couldn't blame the war on this.

No, this was all his fault.

Azriel.

Rhys' command, softly spoken, made him start. Even though he knew where his lord was - on the ground, working alongside the rest of the citizens - the Shadowsinger looked around, trying to see if he hadn't snuck up on him. Cold sweat broke on his brow.

Only when he was sure the rooftop was - indeed - empty, he replied. Yes, my Lord.

There was a long pause, as though Rhys was trying to decide whether he'd been serious or not. There was no formality in the Inner Circle.

Or rather, there hadn't been, until now.

There are enough guards to look after us tonight, Rhys said. And there is much to do tomorrow. Go rest.

He clenched his fists. To be sent away, as if he were a child or a weakling, brought up the worst out of him. It made him remember times when he had been a child, and a weakling, a toy for his half-brothers to torment at leisure. Breathe, he reminded himself. Rhys meant well. Rhys was his friend.

Part of him responded to the words and calmed. But something else - something dark and twisted inside of him, rebelled against any attempt at comfort.

He wants you out of the way. He doesn't need a reminder of how useless you are.

Azriel turned away, as if to escape the horrible litany of words, and caught sight of his right wing. It was trembling. No - his whole body was.

See? The twisted part of him crowed. Even now, you can't control yourself.

If Rhys heard any of that, he made no indication of it. But less than a minute later, there was the rustle of wings, and Cassian landed next to him.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, brother," he said. For a split second, Az just stared at him. Brother. Yes. They were brothers - not in blood, but in every other way that mattered. Cassian had his back and he had his.

Then the wind changed and Azriel caught a scent of steel and fire - familiar and new at the same time - the marking of Cassian's new mating bond. His friend looked like he had just rolled out of bed - and probably had - tearing himself away from Nesta to come and babysit him.

It was unacceptable.

"I had enough rest. If you won't let me help on the ground, I might was well be here," he said. To someone.

Cassian sighed and tied his hair back. "Hard way it is then."

The next morning, they gathered in the townhouse - the original Inner Circle - and, within three seconds, Mor asked why he and Cassian were sporting matching black eyes.

"He wanted a bedtime story," Cassian said. "I gave him one."

"Not before I told you one of your own."

"Brother, I was going easy on you."

Azriel growled, but before he could launch back at him, Amren said: "Remarkable, isn't it? How easy you can act like a mated male without even being one."

"That's because it's just an excuse for them to fight," Mor said. "Typical."

"Feyre once threatened to rip apart a female for just smiling at me," Rhys said. "I believe the feeling goes both ways."

They went on back and forth, trying to determine which sex, if indeed any, was more ferocious of the two. But Azriel couldn't focus. Amren's question had slammed him back into the mindspace he had been trying to escape ever since he woke up from the fight.

Elain was gone.

Lucien had taken her.

And he'd been the one to let it happen. It was all his fault.

He caught his friend's eye, and she raised an eyebrow. Of course - she knew that would happen. In her own way, she probably thought she was helping him, by forcing him to look the truth in the eye.

Not that he needed to. He knew what had to be done and was ready to do it. If they hadn't had their plan ready by the time he woke from the Healing sleep, he would have gone after Lucien himself, ready to rip him limb from limb.

"—at any rate, we can at least agree that both are equally as bad when it comes to property damage," Rhys said, his voice cutting through the chatter, making Azriel refocus on the conversation. For a second, he thought he was being asked a question. Then he saw that Rhys was looking at Cassian.

"I told you," the latter said. "The bed was an accident."

"As was the desk, the door, the chandelier—"

Cassian was unrepentant. "And we promised we will replace them."

"How on Earth do you break a chandelier?" Mor asked.

"With two sets of wings and limited space," Nesta said from the door. Everyone froze and turned to look at he and Feyre, as the two made their way into the living room. As she stepped through the threshold, she moved her wings,as if flexing the new muscles. From his seat near the window, he saw Cassian swallow. "I would have thought you Illyrians knew all that by now."

"Chandeliers are in short supply in training camps," Rhys said. "Although, I suppose it makes sense that most couples go to the woods."

Cassian groaned. "You will never stop reminding me of this, will you?"

"Why should I?"

Nesta looked around the room, her lips drawn tight. But it was Feyre who broke the silence, speaking directly at her mate. "And how did that topic come up in the first place?" Her tone was neutral, carefully so. Having spent his time spying in various courts, and the Night one especially, Aziel could tell the difference between an innocent question and a trap in a heartbeat. He saw the coil, tightly wound and ready to spring.

Luckily, so did Amren. "Calm down, the two of you. We were just discussing how well Az was fitting the role we've given him."

"Role sounds appropriate," Feyre said. Her shoulders were still tense, and her sister looked like she was chewing on her own tongue to keep from lashing out. "Are you all sure this is the best way forward?"

"It's a little late to change our minds," Azriel said. "The rumors have been circulated. There is not a busybody across Prythian that hasn't been told our version of events." At least in that regard, he'd been able to do something. His network had never been more excited - news from the Night Court were scarce, let alone news of such a nature. The courts were probably buzzing by now.

Feyre looked at him, and all his conviction went out the window. Nesta and she, standing there, were like broken reflections of their lost sister - so different, so similar, all too painful to look at.

Because this wasn't just some game he was playing with the other High Lords, information used as weapon to destabilize and debilitate. Elain's life and heart were on the line.

But his Lady didn't ask him if he was sure, or if there were no other options to be explored. Instead, she asked: "And you? How do you feel about your role in that?"

Azriel was not ready for that question.

How could anybody be?

He looked away. "My feelings don't matter. I brought this mess about - I will set things right."

He could feel his friends exchanging looks - he could tell that Mor, in particular, wanted to contradict him. But they knew as well as he did, there was no other way out - not without starting another giant conflict, when they were busy recovering from the war with Hybern.

That was why Amren had hatched the plan, before the dust had settled on his fight with Lucien, and the bastard of the Day Court had escaped with Elain. That was why they'd already had their story figured out before he came to consciousness.

It was the only way. It had to be done.

"Well," Nesta said at length. "I have to say, as far as playing your part goes, Azriel, you're certainly doing it justice. You look positively miserable."

He predicted Mor would try to corner him, so as soon as he was free from the meeting, he took to the skies - the only place where she could reasonably not reach him.

Unfortunately, it only took a minute of flying for the anger to build up. The open air, his former sanctuary, the beautiful hills and tall mountains, they all felt tainted. The same space where he'd been free was now haunted by the specter of a monster.

It's your fault it happened. You should have never challenged him.

But Azriel hadn't done so maliciously. At least, it hadn't felt this way at the time. He'd merely suggested Lucien give Elain some time to herself, perhaps not hover so much. The bickering that had ensued hadn't been particularly vicious - at least not by the standard of the Inner Circle. And wasn't Lucien an honorary member?

Excuses, excuses. You know how personally he takes everything you say. You know, and you wanted to ruffle his feathers, put him in his place.

It was supposed to be a friendly fight.

A spar.

Instead, Lucien had suddenly come into a power even he didn't know he had, and had wrecked havoc until Elain had agreed to go away with him. And Azriel hadn't even been able to save his own skin - it was Nesta's quick thinking, and the practice she'd had with her new wings, that had saved him from being squished.

Unable to keep up with his own self-loathing, he turned and landed on the nearest roof. It was too much. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Az?"

And, as predicted, Mor had found him immediately.

Wonderful.

"What do you want?" His voice was low and cutting - when was the last time he'd spoken to her this way? Probably his dreams. "I'm not in a chatty mood, Morrigan."

"Then you'll just listen," she said, undeterred. Se walked around until she was facing him, hands on her hips. Morrigan, with the gift of truth. Her face made him weak at the knees with longing - it was the reason why he never teased his brothers while they were suffering from an incomplete mating bond. He knew what it was like, had lived with it for centuries, and had accepted it.

Until now.

Now, his beloved's face was just irritating him.

"This plan," she said, "If you are not comfortable with it, you don't have to do it."

He shook his head.

"I mean it. Aren't you always telling me that I don't have to play nice? That you would take out my whole family, and every bastard who did me wrong, if I said so?"

"This isn't quite the same situation," Azriel said. "If anything, it's quite the opposite."

"Pretending that you're Elain's true mate? And contesting the bond Lucien claims to have with her? How is that even remotely okay?"

It wasn't - not least because this was the third time Elain's wishes would be trampled upon, ostensibly for her own good - but Azriel had no issue with pretending. Pretending was what he did best.

And it frustrated him that Mor, of all people, would put that into question. "If there is a non-violent way to resolve this," he said, "then I will do what it takes to achieve that end. I do not want another war. Even if it means marching into the Autumn court and destroying everything and everyone in it."

Morrigan flinched. "And what if this works? What if they reach a friendly court - if they reach a friendly court - and they send them straight back to Elain denounces you as a liar in front of everyone? You and Lucien fight again, and he reveals his true nature to the world?"

"The thought has occurred to me," Azriel said. "It's still better than the alternative." Anger. Bloodshed. Baron finally having confirmation that his wife had been unfaithful, and marching against Rhys and Helion. Elain dying or being forced to spend the rest of her days with a male who she was afraid of.

That was the problem. Nobody knew what Elain wanted.

But if there was a chance - a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless, to get her safely home to make that decision…

Then Azriel was happy to give it to her. He was willing to be made a fool.

Nobody had any requirements of him once that was over.

He could do anything - anything with himself.

A/N Reviews make me happy and I need happy right now because my PhD is killing me.