We're gonna pretend that Gwyn is a minor character for this because I love her and I ship Gwynriel but I wanted to write an OC and I don't want her to be in it or it's going to become a fanfiction about her and Azriel instead of my OC.
ADRIA
Adria was going to die. The footsteps thudding behind her grew louder with every passing moment, and her numb legs could carry her no farther. A red trail followed her path as she bled, the crimson liquid streaming down her naked form. She stumbled, the rough bark of a fallen tree hitting her leg, bringing an abrupt stop. Adria tumbled to the snow-covered ground and lay there, trembling. She was so cold, and though she could no longer feel the pain in her body she ached for the sweet release death would bring.
This is the end. Her vision was fading fast, and the footsteps behind her pounded within her skull, each thud was another nail in her coffin. They were close now, and a triumphant shout signaled they could see her. Move, Adria. Get up. But she couldn't feel her legs, and the blue, shimmering snow was like an old friend enveloping her in its warmth.
I really am dying, she thought. Snow isn't supposed to be warm.
Her eyesight blurred and she felt her consciousness slipping fast, but a powerful crash behind had her head turning towards the noise.
Are they finally here? She could only make out about seven figures, which was strange because there had only been six males chasing her. It was also odd, because one of the figures had two large protrusions out of what she thought was its back. There was clanging and screams, then warm hands lifted her from the snow and tucked her into a broad chest. She tried to struggle, but the figure tapped a rough finger to her forehead and blissful darkness enveloped her.
AZRIEL
Azriel was having a really, really bad day. Not only had Rhys ripped into him last night, but this morning had been a terrible reminder of just how alone he was. He had braved facing Rhys, ready to apologize on his knees if need be, but was met with the sight of his brother and Feyre embracing passionately in the foyer. Cursing himself for not scenting it beforehand, Az had rushed out of the house, mumbling something about going on patrol before taking flight. He had been in the air all of ten minutes before the thought of Elaine swept in and his hand in her hair and her parted lips and the way her body had been flush against his-
Snap out of it you dog. Az shook his head, disgusted with himself. Rhys had been right to kick him out, he was out of control. A long, hard flight in the cold wind would clear his head, so he angled south and headed towards the Day Court.
Ten hours later and he could smell the Spring Court, the sickly sweet scent of flowers wafting through the air. He hadn't flown this far in a long time but it felt good to push his wings to the limit, the aching muscles in his back reminding him of his training days with Rhys and Cassian.
He was almost to the wall when the scent hit him. Human blood, the metallic tang stinging his nostrils. With it came the smell of smoke and fire, and it wasn't long before screams rang in his ears.
Tucking in his wings, Azriel angled towards the burning human village. Normally he would've let Tamlin handle something like this, but he could also smell fae blood, all of it male. This could be a raid by Hybern stragglers, ones they had missed when hunting the remaining soldiers down. He landed with a thud in the village and immediately realized he was too late. The screams had stopped and the town was quiet, the overwhelming scent of blood making his eyes water.
Rhys. You need to see this. He knew his brother could hear him and began projecting mental images of the disaster.
Where are you, Azriel? Rhysand's reply came immediately.
I'm- Az was cut off by the sound of pounding footsteps and breaking foliage in the woods bordering the village. They were too fast to be human.
Splaying his wings, Azriel shot into the sky, Rhys' worried thoughts a buzz in the back of his mind. Azriel! Shaking his head, he ignored his brother and scanned the trees.
There they are. He could see six Hybern males sprinting through the trees in pursuit of a much smaller figure who was, from the scent, bleeding heavily. He nose-dived for them, the figure becoming much clearer as he neared.
It was a human woman. She was naked and sprinting through the trees, despite her wounds, with an agility that startled him. Azriel was almost to her when she tripped and tumbled to the ground, falling still. He cursed, throwing a siphon shield around her right as the soldiers reached her. They swore, rebounding off the blue wall of power. He slammed to the ground in front of her and faced the soldiers, praying that the siphons' warmth would keep her alive long enough for him to kill them.
"Who the fuck are you? She's ours, so I'd back off if I were you. We were almost finished with her when the bitch fought back and got away." The leader, a male with eyes and hair as black as death, smirked at him. "I'm even willing to share her, if you let us finish first." He chuckled, sheathing his short-sword. "Although I doubt there will be much left to share."
At this they all laughed, and Azriel flashed back to finding Mor on the border of the Autumn court, her body battered and bruised while Eris looked on. Icy rage filled him and he flipped Truth-Teller into his hand, thrusting it into the abdomen of the leader in one smooth movement. The males eyes bulged, and the other soldiers fell into a shocked silence as Azriel roughly shoved the body off of his knife.
"Your first mistake was sheathing your blade." His voice was cold, and his eyes promised death. They were allowed all of one step backwards before the screaming began.
He left them alive but incapacitated so they would bleed out, slowly. Sheathing Truth-Teller, he wiped his bloody hands on his pants before turning to the woman. He crouched beside her, flinching at her condition.
It was so much worse than he thought.
She was battered, a black eye swelling the right side of her face and a gash below her left. Her arms were bruised and tattered, and the blood streaming from her legs told him of the cruelty the males inflicted on her. Her hair was clumped with blood and he moved to assess the injury; head wounds always took first priority. She was fading, fast, and needed a fae healer if she was going to make it.
Azriel gently curled his arms under her back and knees, her fetal position making it easy to lift her. She was too light, and Az suspected she hadn't eaten in a long time. He nestled her close to his chest and spared one last glance to the males on the ground. After a second thought, he roughly closed the wounds on one of the males with his siphons; He planned on returning and subjecting him to interrogation. It would be useful to know if there were more soldiers out there, and where.
Az's shadows swirled around them as he prepared to winnow, darkness surrounding them. He felt the girl struggle in his arms and a small smile crept onto his face.
She's a fighter. He lightly tapped a finger to her forehead, his siphons flaring at the small use of magic. She went limp in his arms, her head collapsing onto his chest.
"You'll be okay," He whispered. "I've got you."
Azriel arrived in front of the Town House in a whirlwind of shadows. Not moments later, Rhys slammed down beside him, took one look at the girl in his arms, and winnowed them all inside. Elaine, who had been baking bread with Nuala and Cerridwen, jumped at their sudden appearance. She glanced apprehensively at Rhys and Azriel before focusing on the blood dripping from Az's forearms. Meeting his eyes, she nodded tensely and rushed upstairs to prepare a bed. Rhysand had already called for a healer, but before that the girl needed to be warmed up, and fast. Her body had long since stopped shivering in his arms, a worrying sign.
It appeared that Elaine had notified Mor, who stood ready in her room with a steaming bath already drawn. Azriel carefully handed the woman to Mor, whose worried expression only deepend at the amount of blood covering her body.
"I'll get her cleaned up, Az. You should get her a robe and warm the blankets on the bed for her." Azriel nodded before exiting the room. He grabbed a fluffy robe, one of his own, before warming the bed sheets and laying it on them. Then the healer, Madja, arrived, and he headed downstairs to brief her of the situation.
"She's in rough shape, Madja. She's human, and she's been hurt badly. There were six males, and she has bruises and cuts, along with internal damage and a head wound. She's hypothermic but Mor's got her in a warm bath." Madja scowled, her aged hands pressing her temples in distress.
"There's something else, isn't there, Shadowsinger?" She peered at him, her ancient eyes seeing through his hesitation instantly. He nodded, and that's all that was needed.
Rhysand was so still Az wasn't sure he was breathing; he could feel his brother's wrath seeping into the room. Feyre would be here any minute, and hopefully she could keep him contained before he left to obliterate those males. Az still needed one of them alive for interrogation, but the High Lord was beyond rational right now. To Rhys, this girl was Feyre when she was still human and broken at the hands of Amarantha. Az understood how he felt.
"We're done!" Mor's voice echoed through the house and Madja immediately sprang into action, moving faster than someone of her age ought to.
Azriel followed her into the room, where Mor had just gotten the girl into the robe. Now that she was clean, he could see the true extent to which she was injured. He took a sharp breath, attempting to calm himself before he too would rip those males to shreds. He caught Mor's eye, and the profound sadness gazing back at him threatened to bring him to his knees. She, too, saw herself in this girl.
Madja took over then, instructing Mor to lay her on the bed and open the robe while Rhys and Az exited the room. They walked together in silence, heading back down towards the kitchen.
Elaine met them there, anxiously twisting her hands in her sunset-colored dress. Her hair was braided to one side and she wore a gold necklace that accentuated her slender neck. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off her, which did not escape Rhysand's notice.
I warned you, Az. Stay away from her. His High Lord's stern voice pierced through his thoughts and he turned away, a hand over his mouth.
While Elaine and Rhys discussed the girl's condition from a human standpoint (Elaine would know) Azriel decided to sit and wait for Madja to finish. After grabbing an apple and a blueberry tart from the kitchen counter he settled into one of the plush couches in the living room, an anxious tension filling him.
Fifteen minutes later Feyre arrived, splattered in paint. She was panting, having run all the way from the art studio in town to the house. She relayed this to Rhys, who raised an eyebrow and said: "Why didn't you just winnow, mate?" to which she replied with a colorful vocabulary and, if Az heard correctly, some innuendo.
In order to distract them and himself from the scent of arousal now filling the room, Az filled Feyre in on the situation. She sobered up immediately, nodding at Rhys before sprinting up the stairs and into the room with Madja and Mor. Elaine hesitated for a moment before following her upstairs, not even glancing at Azriel as she passed.
All that was left for him to do now was wait.
ADRIA
She came into consciousness slowly, her senses returning one by one. At first, she could only feel. She was warm, and comfortable, and in remarkably less pain than before. Sound came next, and she could make out feminine voices speaking softly next to her. Finally, Adria opened her eyes to blink up at a cream-colored ceiling.
"Hello," The voice from earlier spoke, "How are you feeling?"
Adria shifted her gaze to her left, where two of the most beautiful females she'd ever seen were gazing at her with concern. The one who spoke tucked her caramel-brown hair- streaked with green paint- behind a pointed ear. Her blue-gray eyes scanned Adria, searching for any signs of pain. The other female, who was blessed with golden locks and chocolate-brown eyes, was now discussing something with a third, elder, female. All of them had pointed ears, which meant all of them were fae.
Adria clenched the sheets, memories of the day before slamming through her mind. The fae males coming to her village, threatening the headman before killing him, seeing her and taking her prisoner before slaughtering everyone else. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and she bit her lower lip, the weight of her loss crushing her chest until she was gasping for breath. The first female stood and immediately helped her sit up, rubbing small, soothing circles on her back as she cried.
"It's okay, let it all out. There we go. It's okay. You're safe now."
Adria tried to find her voice, to ask where she was and how she got there, but all that came out were broken sobs.
"My name is Feyre. Can you tell me yours?" The female, Feyre, shifted so she was sitting beside Adria on the bed. Adria glanced up, analyzing her through watery eyes. She found nothing but concern and genuine kindness gazing back at her.
"My name is-" A coughing fit erupted from deep within her chest, the powerful convulsions grasping her body as she hunched over the edge of the bed. Madja was upon her immediately, gently laying her body back and waving a healing hand over her torso.
"She's okay, it's just an aftereffect of the healing process. I had to fix her internal organs, especially her lungs, which had breathed in too much smoke." Madja turned to Feyre, who nodded.
"Okay. Thank you, Madja. I'll keep her in bed for the next couple of days." The healer then gave a deep bow, murmuring "High Lady," and exited the room.
Adria tried to sit back up, to finish announcing herself. How much more pathetic could she be? She was merely a broken, sick, human and she was in the presence of the High Lady of the Night Court, the Savior of Pyrthian, the Cursebreaker. The female in front of her was a legend, and Adria couldn't even complete a sentence without breaking down. Hot tears burned in her eyes when her body failed her again and slumped back onto the pillows.
Feyre must've mistaken her tears as a sign she was in pain, because she signaled to the other female (who must be the Morrigan, Adria realized) and they both stood to leave.
"I'll be back tomorrow morning, okay? Get some rest." Feyre offered her a small smile before turning to go, Morrigan throwing her a wink as they exited the room.
