Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas
Lyra groaned as she woke, pain shooting down her neck as she pulled herself up from the chair. She had fallen asleep at an odd angle that left a cramp running down her neck and she rolled it, gritting her teeth as it stung.
Azriel was still fast asleep, looking just as he had the night before laying on his stomach, wings spread on either side of him and head turned toward her. His chest moved up and down, even and calm and she took a moment to take in his face, how peaceful he looked when he slept. More peaceful than she had ever seen him awake.
She didn't think she would ever forget the relief of seeing him as he came back to camp. Waiting for him to return that night had been some of the worst hours of her life. She had sat, frozen and always half looking inward to that cord that connected them to make sure she could still feel him on the other end. Mor had sat with her, their hands intertwined, squeezing tightly to each other.
Lyra moved forward, smoothing back some of his black hair and he shifted, almost moving toward her hand. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his brow before she slipped from the tent and out into the bright day. A breeze ran past her and she paused, blinking in wonder as she saw what looked like a polar bear lumber by, pieces of wood and fabric on it's back.
"I was always jealous of Viviane's armies."
Lyra glanced back, giving Mor a smile as moved closer to her and she saw the young girl that Feyre and Azriel had rescued just behind her. She looked much better now, cleaned and bandaged and a cloak wrapped around her. She gave Lyra a nervous look, staying close to Mor as she looked out toward what Lyra guessed was Winter's army. "They have such cute animals." Mor said, grinning as she nodded toward a white fox, an adorable little vest wrapped around it and what looked to be a scroll strapped to its back. Despite how tired and worn she was, she found a laugh leaving her.
"Oh, that's freakin' cute." Lyra said, grinning at Mor as nodded to the girl, beckoning her toward them.
"Lyra, this is Briar. Briar, this is Lyra." Mor said, offering the girl a gentle smile. Lyra nodded to her, smiling as Briar offered her a shy smile. "I was just about to take Briar to meet Viviane. Do you want to come?"
Lyra paused, glancing back toward Azriel's tent. The healer that had checked her work (she had insisted on it, scared that her magic hadn't worked entirely in her panicked and tired state) had given Azriel a generous amount of some tonic to help him sleep. He had only woken once, only for a few moments.
"He'll be okay. We'll be quick." Mor said softly, squeezing her arm before nodding toward where Winter was erecting tents and banners.
Lyra nodded and Mor gave her a grin, looping her arm through hers and then beckoned for Briar to follow. They headed into the camp, which was bustling with activity, both from the animals, the Fae and the large, icy creatures that reminded her of the snowman from Frozen and almost made her laugh all over again. Briar took it in, eyes wide and Lyra suspected her face looked just as amazed at everything around her as Briar's did.
"Mor! Lyra!"
Viviane waved, a bright smile on her face as she stood next to an equally beautiful woman who looked like she was either Viviane's twin or sister.
"Vi." Mor greeted, wrapping her in a tight hug. When she pulled back, she gave Viviane's sister a hug too before turning toward Lyra and Briar. "This is Viviane, Lady of Winter and her sister, Eira."
"It's an honor, Lady Viviane, Lady Eira." Briar said, cheeks turning red under the gaze of the beautiful women.
"The honor is ours." Viviane said, face becoming more serious. "We heard what you survived, how you came here. We are glad you made it to us."
Briar blushed further, dipping her head down as Viviane gripped her arm. "Thank you, Lady."
"Viviane has erected a tent here in Winter's camp for you." Mor said, offering another smile to Briar. "If you would like to stay."
"Oh, thank you-" Briar stuttered, looking overwhelmed by the kindness.
"Of course." Viviane said, grinning before she pulled Briar close. "I shall show you, if you would like to come."
"Yes, Lady." Briar said, looking at her with admiration. Viviane nodded toward them, smiling before they breezed past and Viviane began to chat with Briar, sweeping her away toward the tent.
"We'll take good care of her, Mor." Eira said, squeezing Mor's wrist before nodding to Lyra and then swept off toward her sister.
Lyra watched them go with Mor for a moment before Mor pulled her back and as they turned, they came face to face with Feyre. Mor hesitated and Lyra remembered the fight that had happened between them. Mor had told her of it the night before as they waited, tears lining her brown eyes. She had not given many details of what had occurred, only that it had started because Feyre had snuck away during the battle and horrible things had been said between them. And if they didn't return, that Mor would never be able to apologize.
Lyra could see that Feyre remembered it too, hesitated just a moment. So she pushed forward, urging Mor with her and toward they're friend. She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself before she followed after her.
"You gave Briar over to them?" Feyre asked as they grew closer, her face neutral as she fell into step with them heading back toward camp.
"Elain explained the state you found her in. I didn't think being exposed to battle-ready Illyrians would do much to soothe her." Mor said from Lyra's other side.
"And the Winter Court army is much better?"
"They've got fuzzy animals." Mor said simply, and her and Feyre snorted. They continued on, a beat of silence between them before Mor said, "You did a very brave thing in saving Briar."
"Anyone would have done it." Feyre said, shrugging.
"No." Mor answered, letting out a sigh as she adjusted her belt. "I'm not sure… I'm not sure even I would have tried to get her. If I would have deemed the risk worth it. I've made enough calls like that where it went badly that I…"
There was another beat of silence before Feyre glanced at Lyra. "How's Azriel?"
"Healed, but still sleeping." She said softly, rubbing her arms to warm them as another breeze hit her. She wondered briefly if Winter had brought the cold with them. "The healer gave him a lot of tonic and it knocked him out. I made her look over everything since I was so…" She paused, letting out a tired laugh as she rubbed at her face. "Since I was a hot mess. She said everything healed fine, that everything was okay. But he'll still be out a while."
Feyre grimaced, frowning. "He won't be happy about that."
"None of us are." Mor sighed, running a hand through her blonde curls Feyre's jaw clenched and Lyra saw what the both of them were thinking, what the loss of him would cost.
"Better than being dead." Lyra said softly, blocking out the image of him as he dropped to his knees at the edge of camp, that blood pouring from his back.
"It would have been so easy – for things to have gone wrong last night. And when I saw you two vanish… I had this thought, this terror, that I might not get to see you again. To make things right."
Lyra looked between them, looked to where Mor had led them and realized they were now secluded near the edge of both the camps. Away from anyone who could overhear.
"I'm… gonna go check on Azriel-" She started, her awkward attempt at sneaking away to give the two woman privacy, but Mor grabbed her wrist and when she looked at her face, she saw pain there. Pain and love as she gently squeezed her arm.
"No. You… I owe you this truth too." Mor said softly and Lyra's brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at her friend. She sighed, face heavy as she leaned back against a large oak. "No more lies between any of us."
"Yes, I-I'm sorry about deceiving you." Feyre said, face tight with guilt. "I just… I made a mistake. And I'm sorry."
"You were right about me." Mor said as she rubbed at her face. "You were…" She lowered her hands from her face, the pale fingers shaking slightly. She stared at the ground, her throat bobbing and as she finally looked up toward the two of them Lyra felt a start of surprise at the look of both fear and pain in her brown eyes. She took a deep breath, those eyes meeting hers as she said, "I don't love Azriel."
Feyre stilled next to her, those blue grey eyes flitting between the two of them and she realized then that they both knew, both saw how she felt about the Shadowsinger. She felt her cheeks heat, wondering how long the two of them had known… if they had seen even before she had. And she didn't know how to feel about it, didn't know what to say as they both looked at her.
"Its not…" Lyra muttered, chewing her lip as she looked away. "That's not my business, Mor-"
"It is, Lyra." Mor said, staring at her and when Lyra finally dared to look back at her she saw her brown eyes were kind. Caring. "I don't love him as anything more than my family. I can't say I never… never wondered about it, but I could not… I will never be able to get there. Not like that." Mor shook her head, arms wrapping tightly around herself. "I can't love him like that."
"Why?" Feyre asked.
"Because I prefer females."
The words clanged through Lyra, the reality of what they meant. Of why Mor pushed away at Azriel's display of his feelings that day in Dawn, why she had went with Helion and then looked so miserable the next day. Like none of it gave her any real pleasure.
"But…" Feyre whispered, brow furrowing. "You sleep with males. You slept with Helion…"
"I do find pleasure in them. In both." Mor said and Lyra saw her hands shake so badly that she gripped herself tighter. Like she was trying to hold in her pain. Lyra fought the urge to reach for her, to comfort her. "But I've known, since I was a little more than a child, that I prefer females. That I'm… attracted to them more over males. That I connect with them, care for them more on that soul-deep level. But at the Hewn City… all they care about is breeding their bloodlines, making alliances through marriage. Someone like me… if I were to marry where my heart desired, there would be no offspring. My father's bloodline would have ended with me. I knew it… knew that I could never tell them. Ever. People like me… we're reviled by them. Considered selfish, for not being able to pass on the bloodline. So I never breathed a word of it. And then… then my father betrothed me to Eris and… and it wasn't just the prospect of marriage to him that scared me. No, I knew I could survive his brutality, his cruelty and coldness. I was… I am stronger than him. It was… it was the idea of being bred like a prize mare, of being forced to give up that one part of me…" Her breath shuddered, tears gathering in her eyes and Lyra couldn't take it any longer, could take the pain in her eyes so she reached for her, grabbing her hand and tightly squeezing. Tears slid down and she stared back, squeezing hers to just as they had the night before.
"I slept with Cassian because I knew it would mean little to him, too. Because I knew doing it would buy me a shot at freedom. If I had told my parents that I preferred females… you've met my father." She sniffed, shaking her head and Feyre's face became hard, dark as she thought of Keir. "He and Beron would have tied me to the marriage bed for Eris. Literally. But sullied… I knew my shot at freedom lay there."
Meeting Keir in the brief moments at the Court of Nightmares and the time here and after dealing with Beron at the meeting, she knew the words were true. They made her sick and yet again she wanted to hunt Keir down for all he had done to her.
"I… Azriel did hold feelings for me once." Mor said, her voice going soft and Lyra couldn't stop herself from stiffing as Mor took her in. Saw Lyra's truth. "It's why I chose Cassian instead of him that night. It wouldn't have been fair to him, but he thought I deemed him unsuitable. And then everything happened. He found me after, started to… to tell me how he felt but I panicked and… and to get him to stop, I just turned and left and I couldn't face explaining it after that. To Az, to the others. I sleep with males in part because I enjoy it but… also to keep people from looking too closely."
"Rhys wouldn't care- I don't think anyone in Velaris would." Feyre offered.
"Velaris is… a haven for people like me. Rita's… the owner is like me. A lot of us go there, without anyone ever really picking up on it." Mor said, a watery smile on her face. Lyra had never been the place, but she knew what it meant to Mor, how much she enjoyed it. She had always told Lyra she would show it to her one day, take her dancing and drinking once all this war was over. It made sense to her now, why the place meant so much to her.
It was the only place she could be herself.
"But this part of me… It didn't matter as much, when my family disowned me." Mor said, taking a deep breath and wiping her tears away. "When they called me a whore and a piece of trash."
Lyra flinched at that word and Mor squeezed her hand, understanding in her eyes. She knew what it meant to her, why it upset her so much.
"Those things weren't part of me. We're true and weren't… intrinsic. They couldn't break me because… because they never touched that innermost part of me. They never even guessed. But I hid it… I've hidden it because I live in terror of my family finding out and shaming me, hurting me about this one thing that has remained wholly mine. This one part of me. I won't let them… won't let them destroy it. Or try to. So I've rarely… during the war I finally took my first female lover."
She told them then, voice wobbling of her first lover Andromache, one of the first human queens. How she had loved and lost her when that wall went up and desperately tried to get her back, only to find her married and expecting a child when she finally got back to her. And then how she had died and Mor had been left to mourn her. For decades, her friend had grieved, until one day she had woken to wanting more. So she took them, both for fun and more serious relationships but they never lasted when she hid them away. And none had compared to her first, to Adromanche.
"I took male lovers too, to keep the others from noticing." She said, wiping more of those fresh tears away. She then looked again to Lyra, squeezing her hand again before saying, "So Azriel would keep wondering why I wouldn't notice or make that move with him. You see how marvelous he is. How special."
Lyra did know, did see. He was a great man, the best she had ever known.
"I never did because I love myself enough not to settle with someone I could not give my whole heart to, even someone as amazing as Azriel. And he… he deserved someone who would give him everything, who would see him and love all of him. Someone like you."
Lyra swallowed, heart pounding in her chest as Mor stared at her. She knew she was past denying it, shoving it down and away to stave off any damage it did to her friendship. Mor knew, she saw how much Lyra cared for him. She wondered if everyone did. "It… it doesn't matter, Mor." She choked out, trying to blink away her own tears. Feyre watched her too, reached out to touch her shoulder gently. "You may not feel that way but he… he does."
"No… he doesn't. Not anymore." Mor said faintly, studying her. "Its not the same as it used to be. It started to change even before you got here but then when you came…" Mor smiled, shaking her head. "In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him like he is with you. So… happy."
"He… he doesn't-"
"I know you can't see it-" Mor started, but Lyra shook her head, pain bubbling in her stomach.
"He's my… mate." Lyra said, the words so foreign in her mouth. It was the first she had ever said it, had even actually thought the word. It was still so odd to her, this connection she could feel between them. It was like a living thing and after having spent the better part of the night watching it, feeling it, she was surprised by how accurate the way Feyre had described it to her was. She could feel him at the end of it, as well as she could have reached out the night before to touch him.
She saw Mor's eyes widen at the words, a smile crossing her face and Feyre's head jerked toward her, eyes lighting. "He didn't tell me." She added quickly, the image of his shocked face from the night he realized it flashing before her again. How he had pulled away from her. "And I could see it when I found out… that he didn't want it-"
To her surprise, Feyre let out a chuckle and when Lyra looked at her questioningly, she gave her a sad smile. "Rhysand didn't tell me about it, even after I had left Tamlin, even after I started to feel the same way. In part to give me a choice but also… he didn't think he deserved to have someone. And I'm beginning to think it's an Illyrian trait."
"Azriel… is the same." Mor said softly, a deep sadness etching her face before she closed her eyes briefly. "I'm to blame for part of that, I think. Even if he doesn't feel the same anymore, I think he still wonders why I never… and of course he thinks it's him. He's never thought he was worth much and I can guarantee you, it wasn't because he didn't want you, Lyra, that he didn't tell you… but because he thought it was better for you."
Lyra chewed her lip, the words sinking into her like a stone. They broke something in her, the thought that Azriel couldn't see what he was, how kind and strong and good. She hated that he couldn't but with what he had suffered… she understood it. She remembered a time when she had hated herself, when she had thought she wasn't worth anything and had tried desperately to destroy herself. And sometimes, even now, even after all these years she still felt it, that nagging feeling that she wasn't worth much of anything. Just like her mother had told her, like he had told her.
Mor reached out, brushing a tear that had slipped down her face before she pulled her too her, her arms warm and tight. "Speak with him, please." Mor whispered, pulling back and keeping a tight hold on her arms. "I love the both of you and wish to see you happy. You both deserve to be happy."
The words warmed something in Lyra and yet again she was struck by how lucky she was to be here, to have been found by Mor and the others. She didn't know what waited for her with Azriel, but even if it didn't work out, didn't become anything she still would remain here with these people, her family. She loved them in a way she had never cared for anyone.
She pulled Mor in for a hug again, holding her fiercely. "You deserve that too, Morrigan." Lyra whispered, her throat thick and voice shaking.
"I can't even work up the courage to tell the world about myself." Mor sighed, sniffing as she pulled back. "My gift is truth and yet I have been living a lie my entire existence."
"You'll tell them when you're ready." Feyre said softly, reaching out to squeeze Mor's hand. She look to Lyra too, eyes kind as she offered her a reassuring smile. "And we'll stand by you no matter what. Until then… your secret is safe. I won't tell anyone – even Rhys."
"Thank you." Mor said, her voice a breathless whisper and Lyra saw what the words meant to her.
"No, thank you for telling me. I'm honored." Feyre said and Lyra nodded, offering her friend another smile.
"I wanted to tell you, the both of you. I realized it when you and Azriel winnowed to Hybern's camp. I nearly spilled it there as we waited last night." Mor said to Lyra as she reached out and gripped both their hands. "But I prayed to the Mother and said if you made it back safely, I would tell you both."
"It seemed she was happy to take the bargain." Feyre beamed.
Mor let out a breath, her shoulders sagging just a bit and Lyra was struck by the fact that five hundred years' worth of a burden seemed to leave her as she loosed that breath. She felt so sad for her friend, how she had been so alone all this time and grateful that Mor had entrusted both her and Feyre with the truth. Even if she wasn't ready to tell everyone, Lyra was glad she could at least tell them.
"When you are ready," Lyra said, squeezing her hand again, "even if it's in another 500 years, we'll be there. We'll have your back."
Feyre nodded, her eyes flashing fiercely as she looked to Mor. And then the High Lady looked back toward camp, her hair rustling in the breeze as she smiled. "What?" Mor asked, studying her.
"I was just thinking," Feyre said, that grin spreading. "That whenever you're ready… I was thinking about how much fun I'm going to have playing matchmaker for you."
"Ooooh." Lyra breathed, her own smile widening. "Yes! We're gonna set you up so good."
Mor laughed - a light, unburdened sound and Lyra answered her bright, lovely smile with her own.
Azriel woke alone this time, though the scent of Lyra still lingered in the tent. His body, his movement slowly began to come back to him and he rose, still sore and aching as he flexed his wings and rolled his arms. He gently touched at his back where the beast had ripped away his flesh and not even a mark remained behind, only perfect, smooth skin.
He could feel her magic, that warm, gentle part of her lingering in his skin. In his veins and blood and the repaired muscles of his wings.
He rose slowly, grabbing a glass of water and drinking it down greedily before he grabbed a shirt and shouldered it on. He heard the tent door rustle as he finished buttoning it and his heart sped up when he caught sight of Lyra in the doorway, her eyes wide.
"You're awake." She breathed, her eyes roaming over him, taking in every inch as though she feared he was still hurt. "I'm sorry… I stepped out for a minute and then I just…" She sighed, pushing back her curls as something flickered in her eyes. "I got distracted."
"It's alright." He assured her, wings tucking in. He took the moment to study her, to take in the dark circles under her eyes, the redness still lining them, how pale she looked. He wondered if she had slept at all. If she had worried for him that much that she hadn't slept…
She met his eyes, some emotion he couldn't quite figure out swimming in them. She stared and stared, as though trying to read something in him and he felt his heartbeat quicken, wondering what, exactly it was she was looking for. If she were finding it or if she would be disappointed. After a moment she took a step closer to him, her brow furrowing as she took a deep breath, something steeling inside her before she said, "You're my mate."
His stomach turned, both warmth and fear filling him at hearing those words, that truth from her lips. He studied her closely, cautiously, trying to read that mysterious look of resolve on her face. If it meant rejection or…
He couldn't bring himself to hope for the other option.
"Yes." He answered simply and she nodded slowly, eyes dropping from his face and her brows furrowing. "L-Lyra-" He started, but she shook her head, meeting his eyes again.
"Do you love Mor?"
He let out a breath at that, slight shock running through him. He didn't know why he was surprised that she had guessed at his old feelings for Mor, if someone else had told her or she had figured it out herself. If she had misunderstood how he felt now.
He seated himself slowly, looking her over and he was surprised to see what looked like fear in her eyes. He wondered why the answer would scare her. If perhaps… if she feared he would say yes.
"I did once." He admitted, seeming to sense that he needed to answer with only truth. Whatever Lyra was doing, whatever this conversation was, he could tell it demanded complete truth. That she demanded it, needed it.
"Once." She repeated, before seating herself on a chaise at the end of his cot. She took another deep breath, her fingers twitching in her lap and he could see her seeming to fight that urge to dig her nails into her palm. But she held fast, instead occupying her fingers with toying with the end of her sweater. Waiting.
"When I…when I was 11, my father realized what I was." Azriel said, looking down at his knuckles, those shadows running along his skin. "Shadowsingers are prized, rare. So he took me and dumped me in the camps to be trained. The Illyrian lords, the other boys in training, they didn't treat me much better than he and his wife did. They didn't want to train a bastard and only did so because of what I was."
Lyra listened, watching him just as carefully as he had watched her. Those fingers had stilled in her lap.
"Mor was the first person to ever look at me with out fear. Even Rhysand and Cassian didn't know what to make of me when we first met." He admitted, looking down at his own scarred fingers. "And then she was kind, truly kind to me. I'd never had that."
"Sounds about right." Lyra said softly, her voice thick as she smiled softly. He could see what she was thinking, remembering. Could see the own love she had for Mor, who was the first person to ever tell her that she believed her, the pain she had suffered.
"The part of me that loved her, it was that broken part of me, the one who… who suffered in that cellar." He whispered, fists clenching and he watched as the scars stretch, pulling and distorting them. Lyra shifted and he saw that flash of anger in her eyes, for him and what he had endured. "I will always love her for the way she has treated me. For that kindness. But it is not the same anymore."
"It can't…" Lyra muttered, her brow furrowing again as she looked down at the floor and he saw frustration on her face. "I get the bond is some ancient thing and it calls on your weird Fae instincts or whatever, but it can't just… it can't just magically wipe away loving someone for-for centuries."
"I stopped loving her that way before the bond. Before you even came into this world." He said and she jerked her head up at the fierceness in his voice. She stared, surprise swimming in her eyes. "Because of Feyre."
"Feyre…" She repeated, shaking her head in confusion. "What-"
"The way my brother loves her, its more than just the mating bond." He said softly and he shook his head, smiling briefly. "It's like nothing I've ever seen. It made me realize that the way I felt for Mor was nothing like that. It would never be that."
He looked to her, watching her as she took in his words but she still frowned and emotion swam in her eyes. He hated this distance between them, that he couldn't figure out what she was thinking. What she was feeling.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" She asked finally, the words little more than a shaking whisper. Her fist clenched then, knuckles turning white as she stared, waiting for the words. And it took his breath away when he saw the pain in her eyes, the hurt that was there.
He had caused that. He had hurt her, just as he had in those early days. It caused a deep ache in his chest.
"You didn't deserve that burden." He said softly, swallowing thickly, tearing his eyes away to look at those scars again. "You had suffered enough."
"Is that what you think the bond would be?" She asked and he was surprised when he looked to her that she had tears in her eyes. "What it is for me? A burden?"
"I know it is, even if you don't." He said, trying to keep his voice steady, even. He looked away from her, from that kindness he knew he would find in her eyes. Lyra was good, she was loving and he knew that she would tell him that he was wrong. She looked at him as the male who helped her escape from Hybern, who protected her from the Scorpion. But she didn't see it all, didn't see that he was too dark and broken and had too much blood on his hands to ever deserve someone like her. "I know… I know what I am, Lyra. And that you're worthy of more."
He jerked his head up toward her in surprise when she let out a low, breathless laugh and shook her head as she wiped a tear that had escaped down her pale cheek. "It is an Illyrian trait then." She muttered, before she met his eyes. Her face contorted suddenly, a look of fierce anger crossing her features as she glared at him. "Goddammit, Azriel."
He couldn't do anything more than stare at her, that fight on her face. It took him by surprise, the emotion behind it. She stood, those white fingers unclenching as she came to stand before him. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as she drew closer. Her eyes flashed and he felt that power of hers, writhing in her as she took his face in her hands. She looked so beautiful, so powerful and bright and he couldn't stop himself from leaning into her soft hands. From closing his eyes against the smoothness of her skin on his cheeks. His shadows sighed at her touch, crawling up her arms and caressing her. "This world, this family is the best thing that has ever happened to me." She snarled, her fingers sweeping over his face, so gentle compared to that raging intensity on her face. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I hate that you can't see that."
Her forehead pressed to his and his body shuddered. He couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around her, couldn't stop the tears that stung his eyes at those words. Her fingers twined through his hair and she closed her eyes, stoking as she had the night before, so light and gentle. "You're my mate." She growled and all he could do was pull her closer. She kissed his brow, her lips feather light before she wrapped her hands around him and held him tight. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking in her sweet scent, relished the feel of her in his arms.
He had no words, had no way to tell her what those words from her meant to him. He still felt that small, broken part of him that didn't… couldn't believe what she said. But he pushed it down, just for now, because another part of him, the part that was selfish and feared he would die in this war and never be able to hold her again, couldn't pull away from her. So he held her, savored her, loved her in that tent for as long as the Mother allowed him.