Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas

"Please don't tell me we're going to the Court of Nightmares." Cassian groaned, his wings almost drooping at the thought.

"Not in the mood to terrorize our friends there?" Rhysand asked, though his face was still dark as he uttered the teasing words.

"You mean to ask my father to fight in this war." She said, voice low. Lyra saw how the words affected her friend, the thought of that bastard and that place.

"What is the Court of Nightmares?" Nesta asked.

"The place where the rest of the world believes the majority of the Night Court to be." Lucien answered, that eye clicking as he nodded his head toward Rhysand. "The seat of his power. Or it was."

"Oh, it still is. To everyone outside of Velaris." He said simply before he looked to Mor, her red lips turned into a frown. "And yes. Keir's Darkbringer legion is considerable enough that a meeting is warranted."

"Why does there need to be a meeting at all?" Lyra asked hopefully, looking curiously to Rhysand as he sipped at his wine. She could only hope that Mor could be spared from going back to that place. "Can't you just tell them too?"

"There are protocols in place between the two subcourts regarding this sort of thing." Cassian answered. "They mostly govern themselves with Mor's father their steward."

"The steward of the Hewn City is legally entitled to refuse to aid my armies." Rhysand continued, those violet eyes darkening. "It was part of the agreement my ancestor made with the Court of Nightmares all those thousands of years ago. They would remain within the mountain, would not challenge or disturb us beyond it's borders… and would then retain the right to decide not to assist in war."

"And have they refused?" Feyre asked.

"Twice. Not my father." Mor said, giving her friend a nod. "But… there were two wars. Long, long ago. They chose not to fight. We won, but… barely. At great cost."

"We leave in two days." Rhysand said, watching the blonde cautiously.

"He'll say no." Mor said tightly, meeting Rhysand's violet eyes. "Don't waste your time."

"Then I shall have to find a way to convince him otherwise." Rhysand said simply and Mor stared, her eyes flashing angrily.

"What?" She growled.

The others looked uncomfortable, Azriel pushing his food around, Cassian shifting in his seat. Amren gave Rhysand a disapproving look as she clicked her tongue at him. Rhysand was not fazed though as he said, with surprising calm, "He fought in the War, perhaps we'll be lucky this time, too."

Lyra wasn't sure Mor having to deal with her father, his horrible soldiers, was luck.

"I'll remind you that the Darkbringer legion was nearly as bad as the enemy when it came to their behavior." Mor snipped, continuing to give Rhysand that warning, dark look.

"There will be new rules."

"You will not be in a position to make rules and you know it." Mor snapped. Lyra wished she could comfort her friend in some way, hating the way this argument and her father was affecting her.

"We'll see." Rhysand said and Mor's nostril's flared, eyes flashing at his simple words.

"What do you think?" Mor asked, whipping her head to Azriel, those brown eyes blazing as she looked to the Shadowsinger. Azriel stiffened next to Lyra, face remaining blank and unreadable as he took in her stare, watched her. She could see how delicate a position he was in, forced to either defend Mor, who clearly wished for back up or go against his brother.

"It's not my call to make." Azriel answered, his voice neutral.

"That's a bullshit answer." Mor said, anger rippling across her face and Lyra flinched. She saw the hurt cross Azriel's face, though it was so fast she nearly missed it. Mor saw it too and Lyra saw the hesitation that passed over her, just for a moment before she looked away from him. Azriel's shadows darkened.

"You don't have to come, Mor." Rhysand offered and for a moment, Lyra hoped that Mor would take him up on that offer. But she saw that determined look in the blonde's face, could follow her thoughts. Not going meant conceding to Mor, meant giving her father a win that she could not… would not give him.

"Of course I'm coming. It'll make it worse if I'm not there." Mor muttered, before throwing back her wine and draining it in one go. "I suppose I have two days now to find a dress suitable to horrify my father."

Some of that tension around the table eased as Cassian let out a low laugh. But Lyra looked at her friend, studied her and saw that tension still in her shoulders. Mor met her gaze and she gave her a look, hoping she saw the understanding on her face. Mor's brown eyes softened and she saw that small nod Mor gave her. A simple 'thank you'.

"Let's train at eight tomorrow." Feyre said, interrupting any lingering tension that remained as she looked to Cassian. "Lyra and I will meet you in the ring."

"Deal." Lyra said, setting her fork down and nodding to Feyre. "Decided. See you at eight."

"Nice try." Cassian said, narrowing his eyes at her. Feyre's lips were twitching, eyes sparking with amusement. "Seven thirty."

"Eight." Feyre countered again, straightening out her face to give a flat look. She looked to her sister then, a cautious sort of look on her face as she asked, "Care to join?"

"No." Nesta said immediately, straightening a bit. Cassian was trying extremely hard not to look disappointed.

"I want to learn how to fly." Feyre said to break up that beat of silence after her sister's dismissal. Lyra raised a brow, confused by the declaration and was about to ask what she meant when Mor spewed her wine out at the words. Lyra gave a squeal of shock as some of the wine hit her, gapping at her as she sputtered and seemed to try to regain herself. Azriel was so shocked at Feyre's declaration he barely noticed, though he took the brunt of it.

"I want you to teach me." Feyre said, gesturing to the three winged men in the room, all of them looking just as shocked at the words as Mor was.

"Really?" Mor gapped.

"Well, that explains the wings." Lucien added, his voice low.

"You have wings?" Lyra asked, dapping at the wine now staining her shirt with the black, cloth napkin. Mor flashed her an apologetic look as she waved her hand, the stain disappearing from her shirt and from Azriel's leathers.

"I can shape-shift. And with the oncoming conflict…" Feyre's face became more serious, more thoughtful. "Knowing how to fly might be… useful. I assume the battles against Hybern will include Illyrians?" Cassian gave a nod, still studying Feyre as if trying to gauge if she was serious. "Then I plan to fight with you. In the skies."

"I don't know if it's technically even possible – time wise." Cassian said, letting out a sigh as his shock wore off. "You'd have to learn not only how to fly, but how to bear the weight of your shield and weapons – and how to work within an Illyrian unit. It takes us decades to master that last part alone. We have months at best, weeks at worst."

The words clearly deflated Feyre a bit, worry crossing her beautiful face. But Rhysand leaned forward, looking to his mate, love and determination sparking in those violet eyes. "Then we'll teach her what we know until then. I'll give her any shot at an advantage, at getting away if things go to shit. Even a day of training might make a difference."

"I'll teach you." Azriel interjected, his own mighty wings tucking into his back. Lyra glanced at him, surprised to see his face had softened as he looked to his High Lady. Feyre herself looked a bit shocked by the offer.

"Are you… certain?"

"Rhys and Cass were taught how to fly so young that they barely remember it." Azriel said, his face smoothing into that mask he wore so often. Lyra's brow furrowed at the words, wondering what that meant. Why would Azriel have learned to fly at a different time then his brothers?

"We've taught plenty of younglings the basics." Cassian said, his muscled shoulders shrugging as he leaned back in his chair.

"It's not the same." Azriel said, his shadows writhing around him. "When you're older, the fears, the mental blocks… it's different."

Lyra wanted so badly to ask him why he had learned so late, but she knew it was not the time to ask in front of so many people. But as she looked at those brutal scars on his hand, she also feared the answer.

"I'll teach you." Azriel said again, more firm in the offer. "Train with Cass for a few hours and I'll meet you when you're through. After lunch, we'll meet." He said, looking to Lucien, who only nodded.

"Thank you." Feyre said, emotion lining her voice. Something sparked in her eyes that looked like determination and she took a deep breath, turning to her sister. "The King of Hybern is trying to bring down the wall by using the Cauldron to expand the holes already in it. I might be able to patch up those holes, but you… being made of the Cauldron itself… if the Cauldron can widen those holes, perhaps you can close them, too. With training, in whatever time we have."

Nesta thought this over, her face so unreadable it rivaled Azriel's. Her eyes, so similar to her sisters slowly turned to Lyra, a delicate brow raising as she looked to her. Lyra tried not to flinch back from her steady, unnerving gaze. "She could not do it?"

Slight irritation sparked in her at being discussed as though she wasn't there, but she couldn't say she didn't wonder the same thing. They hadn't been sure of what her power was, but whatever they guessed at didn't seem to in tale being able to repair the Wall. Lyra didn't wish to use her powers, she mostly just wanted to control it enough not to harm anyone, but if it could be used to repair something and protect innocent humans… she could try that.

"Lyra came from the Cauldron," Rhysand said, his voice patient as he looked to her. "But the Book gave her, her… gifts."

"I can train you, as I am going to train Lyra." Amren said, her finger running thoughtfully over her glass of blood. "Or in theory I can. We should start soon, tomorrow morning." She nodded, as though deciding for both of them before she turned to Rhysand. "When you go to the Court of Nightmares, we will go with you."

"What?" Feyre sputtered, her eyes widening.

"Me too?" Lyra asked, fear twisting in her stomach as she glanced nervously to Amren.

"No." Azriel snapped, surprising Lyra. She glanced to him, though he wasn't looking at her and instead at Amren. Amren dismissed him, looking instead at Rhysand as she explained.

"The Hewn City is a trove of objects of power. There may be opportunities to practice. Let the girl feel what something like the wall or Cauldron might be like." Amren said coolly. "And as for Lyra, we still don't know all she is capable of. Let us test what she may be able to do. Covertly." She added, throwing Azriel an irritated look.

"No." He bit out again, deadly still and shadows writhing as he glared down Amren. "We cannot risk Keir or anyone in that place learning of Lyra's powers."

"Azriel…" She interrupted, drawing his attention away from Amren, though that anger still sparked in his eyes. "If it helps, I can go."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to go to that awful place that had abused and harmed Morrigan. She certainly didn't want to meet Keir. But if going there, learning more about her powers and possibly finding a way to help these people… she would do it.

They deserved whatever she could do to help them. They had done so much for her, given her so much. She had been nothing to any of them when she emerged from the Cauldron and yet they had taken her in, offered her a place to stay, clothes and protection. And friendship. All of them, they had become her friends. Even Amren, who had offered to help her with her powers when she needed it. She could do this for them.

Most of all though, they had believed her. Her pain, her abuse. Even in her own world, no one had given her that. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to repay them for that alone.

"I'll help. At the Hewn City, with the High Lord's, if you need it. With the war…" She faltered a bit, fear quaking inside her. Rhysand was watching her carefully, those violet eyes thoughtful. Cassian had leaned back in his chair and stared, almost looking proud of her. And Mor, emotions swam in her brown eyes, a kind, caring look on her face. She took a deep breath, lifting her chin even as her fingers dug into her palm. "I'm not a warrior, obviously. But I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, Lyra." Feyre breathed, her own eyes filled with what looked like appreciation.

"It's the least of what I owe you all." She muttered, looking back to Mor and hoping the blonde knew what that look meant. Mor gave her the barest hint of a smile, eyes shinning as she nodded to her.

Azriel had remained silent, watching her, his eyes swirling with emotions. Those shadows moved around him, running along his skin, those wings. She couldn't quite read that look on his face, the way his brow furrowed. After a moment though, his face became impassive again and he gave her a single, curt nod.

"Why not just kill the King of Hybern before he can act?" Nesta asked, breaking Lyra's gaze away from Azriel. She had watched the whole exchange, her own face remaining emotionless as she had observed them. But her gaze lingered on Lyra, seeming to size her up. Lyra wondered what she saw.

"If you want the killing blow, girl, it's yours." Amren offered, sending a shiver down Lyra's spine.

"What happened to the human queens?" Nesta asked, her eyes drifting beyond them, back toward her rooms.

"What do you mean?" Feyre asked, watching her sister carefully.

"Were they made immortal?" Nesta asked, turning her gaze back to Azriel.

"Reports have been murky and inconsistent. Some say yes, others say no. The power it took to bring Lyra here and change you… the Cauldron may not have been able to do it." Azriel answered.

Nesta thought over this, eyes on her wineglass as it sat in her hands. Cassian watched her, leaning forward before he asked, "Why?"

"By the end of this war, I want them dead. The King, the queens – all of them." Nesta answered, meeting Cassian's gaze with a cold, dark look of her own. "Promise me you'll kill them all, and I'll help you patch up the wall. I'll train with them and go to the Hewn City or whatever it is… I'll do it. But only if you promise me that."

Though the words made Lyra shiver with fear, some dark part of her agreed with Nesta. The queens had done nothing to her, but the King… he was why she had been forced here, had been ripped from her home, had been tortured into this new body. And if he wanted to get to a new world, her world, and he viewed humans as little more than property… she could not allow him to get there. His death, she wouldn't mind that.

"Fine. And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords, to provide testimony to other courts and allies what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you. Both of you." Feyre said, looking to Lyra, who nodded. But Nesta… her face went dark as her sister looked back at her.

"No." The word was lined with ice. It gave no room for discussion, but Feyre continued on.

"You don't mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?" Feyre asked, looking slightly exasperated by Nesta.

"No." Nesta repeated, her lips pursing into a tight line.

"People's lives depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend on it." Feyre pushed. Nesta glared, a dangerous flare of anger in her eyes as she leaned forward.

"Do not talk down to me. My answer is no."

"I understand what happened to you was horrible-"

"You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I'm not going to tell them that story – my story." She hissed, anger lining her every word.

"The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness, as Lyra cannot give them the whole truth-"

Nesta's chair scrapped against the marble of the floor as she stood, throwing her napkin on to her plate as she glared down at her sister. "Then it is not my problem if you're unreliable. That she can't help." Nesta snipped, jerking her chin to Lyra. "I'll help with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf. And if you dare suggest to Elain she do such a thing, I will rip out your throat."

Those cold, angry eyes turned on all of them, as if daring any of them to test her. None of them said a word and she swept up her skirt, turning on her heel before she exited and slammed the door behind her.

Feyre let out a tired sigh, her whole body slumping in the chair. Mor cringed at the look on her friends face before waving a hand and a bottle of wine landed in front of Feyre, completely full. "It's fine if you drink directly from it."

Azriel leaned against the railing of the balcony beside Lyra, who stared up, taking in the beauty of the night sky, the bright stars, the large moon hanging in the sky. The moon illuminated her pale face and seemed to almost make those unique eyes glow. She didn't look at him as he came to stand beside her, just continued to stare as she said, "You were right. It is better at night."

He looked up, taking a moment to appreciate that view. "It is the Night Court." He said, earning a light laugh as she looked to him. The others had gone their separate ways after finishing dinner… and the wine. Lots of wine. Mor had taken a whole bottle for herself, heading to her room with a dark look on her face that worried him. Feyre and Rhysand had gone off by themselves, seeming to need some alone time after Nesta's outburst and threat. Cassian had taken Amren back to her apartment before staying at the townhouse.

He had stayed here, hoping to speak with Lyra. To make sure she understood what she had agreed to at that dinner to help with this war. Assure her that none of them expected her to put herself into harms way as some kind of repayment to them. That he did not want her thinking she needed to put herself in harms way.

Because the thought made him sick. Imagining her fighting in this war, even with her substantial powers, filled him with a dread that had been eating him up since she had uttered the words. Rhysand had brushed against his mind at dinner, whispering nothing but a This is her decision, her choice to him. Azriel had fought every instinct in him not to growl at his brother. He knew, deep down, Rhysand was right and he had no right to try to stop Lyra. She was capable of making her choices and was strong enough to know what she wanted. But he could warn her, make her understand and try to sway her to stay out of danger. He had to try, at the very least.

"Can I… can I ask you something?" She inquired, interrupting his thoughts as she looked at him. He raised a brow but nodded. "Why did you learn to fly late?"

It wasn't what he had been expecting and the question made something twist in his stomach. He looked toward the city below, still feeling her eyes on him as she waited patiently.

"You don't have to tell me, Az, if you don't want to-"

"My father was a Lord in one of the Illyrian camps. My mother was little more than a slave he kept." Azriel said, and Lyra went quiet next to him, stiffening at the words. There implications. "When I was born his wife… she took me from my mother and put me in a cellar below their house. I was there until I was 11."

"Eleven?" Lyra breathed, disbelief and anger lining her words. He looked to her and he was surprised by the warmth that filled his chest when he saw her anger, her concern. When he saw how she cared. "Why…" She asked, shaking her head furiously.

"She was cruel. They all were." He said simply, his fingers flexing. "My conception was not my mother's choice and yet his wife hated her. And took me as punishment."

"Jesus…" Lyra whispered, fist clenching on the railing. Not that nervous tick, but in anger. For him. "Did they- the scars?"

"My brothers." He said, voice low. That memory - forever etched into his mind, of his brother's vicious, amused faces illuminated by the flames that burned his skin swam before his eyes. Their laughter echoed in his ears. "They tested Fae healing against oil and fire."

"Azriel," Lyra whispered, her voice wavering with emotion as she reached out, fingers touching the scarred hand closest to her. He froze, his focus, all his attention going to those thin, warm fingers running over the warped skin. He could hardly breathe, could hardly think as she turned his palm over and her fingers wrapped around his hand. Squeezed it gently. "I hope they paid."

He swallowed thickly, meeting her gaze. There wasn't pity there, like he feared, but caring, anger, pain. He squeezed her hand back, those scars stark against the flawless skin. "They did." He whispered, voice lines with savage cold.

"Good." She breathed, those eyes alight with rage and kindness. Understanding.

"Lyra…" He paused, steading himself before he met her eyes. Something about that look, the way she cared for his pain, broke something in him and spurred him on to tell her, "You do not have to fight in this war."

Her eyes softened, that anger draining from her face slowly. She squeezed his hand again before they slipped away, leaving him feeling cold. "Yes, I do."

"No, you do not." He argued, his words coming out a growl. "You do not owe us-"

"Yes, Azriel, I do." She said, her voice growing firm, determination in her white blue eyes. "Everything you all have done for me, I can help."

"Not this." He whispered, fingers clenching around the railing.

"It's not even just that, Az." She said, face grave. "You heard Lucien, Hybern wants me back. Whether I want to help or not… I'm still in danger. I won't be safe with him around. And if he wins the war, who's going to stop him from trying to get to my world? From harming people there?" She shook her head, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him. "And if I can help or protect any of you, I'll do it."

His jaw clenched, scarred fingers flexing. She was right. He knew that. Hybern would come for her and he wouldn't stop in his need for conquest. Her world, full of humans with no magic, Hybern would enslave them, harm them.

"I couldn't live with myself if I could have helped one of you or the other humans or people in my own world and did nothing." She said gently and he saw then, there was no changing her mind. He saw the determination there, the fight. That fear of seeing her in harms way, it made his chest ache and a worry so deep fill him that it nearly made him sick. "And I… I spent a lot of my life running away from things that were hard. I got past that in my own way back in my world by going to school and straightening out my life to make something of myself. But I can't go back to that here."

He let out a sigh, that fear still churning in his stomach as he gave her a small nod. She studied him for a moment before smiling and knocking her shoulder against his. "It's kind of insulting how worried you are. Has Cassian said I'm that bad at training?"

The corner of his mouth lifted at that attempt to ease some of his tension. "He did say you tripped over nothing the other day."

"Okay, there was a stick." She snapped, though her cheeks turned red. "A large… stick. Could have happened to anyone."

"I am sure. Cassian often leaves large sticks in the middle of the training ring." He answered dryly and she just shook her head.

"Asshole." She grumbled, but she fought to keep her face straight, that laughter lighting up those white blue eyes. She was beautiful, so painfully beautiful with that moon lighting her face and a smile across her face. His shadows hissed and sighed in his ears, watching her.

She would fight, he could not stop her, but he would do all he could to protect her. He would not lose her. That he was sure of. He would not lose that smile.