Notes:
TW for non-con (not by the MCs), gore, and trauma. -Sangravah scene-
.
.
Nyx whines and cries as Feyre bounces him on her hip, the boy chewing on his chubby fist, drool dripping down his arm. "C'mon baby, I know...I know. She swallows, bustling into the hallway and down the stairs in her ankle-length navy-blue nightgown, storming into Rhys's office.
"Rhys."
"Mmh?", he mumbles, barely sparing a glance as he looks over some letters—most likely about the Queens and such from the other Courts, as well as Jurian and Eris.
Nyx wails and flails, reaching for his father. Feyre grimaces as he cries into her ear, cradling him closer to keep a hold of the squirming babe.
Rhys finally looks up and his brow crinkles as he gets up from his chair and scoops up Nyx, murmuring softly in his arched ear as he cries, but calms ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry", he says, looking at Feyre and pulling her gently into his other side, kissing her head. "I'm here. I'm paying attention now."
Tears spring to her eyes and she buries her face in his chest, exhausted. "He's teething. He's in pain and I don't know how to help him. Please...can—can you please heal him?"
Rhys rubs her back and sighs worriedly. "Unfortunately I cannot heal inner pain, darling. Only cuts and scrapes or worse."
"Then get Lucien here to do it. Mind-link him. Please. I-I'm too tired to focus on holding that magic right now."
"Feyre, darling, Nyx is a healthy boy who is teething. We cannot always take away every small thing that ails him. He will never learn how to endure if we do that."
"Rhysand", she growls. "He is my son and I won't have him in pain."
"He is my son too, and I won't have him coddled. I wasn't, and I was stronger because of it. Because my mother knew that sometimes a little pain or a few harsh punishments grows character and strength. This is Prythian, Feyre. Not the mortal lands. He is going to have to grow up and be a fighter one day. He's an Illyrian male."
Her lip curls and tears fall down her tired face. "He's just a baby right now. Not a grown male, not a warrior, and not the heir. Right now he is just our baby. You can treat him as such as that won't make him weak, Rhys."
He sighs and cuddles the small boy whose eyes flutter closed, silence finally falling around the room.
"I won't allow you to treat him like he's just some warrior. Like he's just another...", she trails off, her heart lurching at what she was about to say.
"Another what, Feyre?"
She forces herself to look into the deep blue depths of his eyes, her paler blue ones still teary. "Another soldier. Warrior. Brute. Just because he's Illyrian doesn't mean that he doesn't have feelings or want to feel love and comfort. It doesn't mean that he was only bred to be a brute. Neither were Cassian or Azriel. They have siphons so that can control their magic; because they don't want to be killing machines. They want to be people, Rhys, people. Illyrians are our people", she says weakly. "Nyx's people. Your brothers' people. Your mother's people, despite the horror she faced from them. They cannot be all bad. I know that many-most-of the males that live there are awful and that's part of the problem and the stigma around them. They're still clipping females, Rhys. Nesta was talking to me about Emerie and what she went through and that shouldn't have happened. You told me you had laws in place."
"W-We do have laws in place. Clipping is banned."
"Which may be true but are any of us actually enforcing the ban? Cassian and Azriel go there least often as possible because of their own trauma. They aren't enforcing it because those males are the ones that hurt them too. Even if they aren't afraid of them, I'm sure it dredges up trauma. And...fuck, Rhys. Nesta's daughter has wings", she chokes out. "And she had a point, wh-what if she wasn't related to me? What if her little girl had to grow up in Illyria? What...?", she sobs softly. "There are little girls like my niece that will be targeted there. And it shouldn't have taken Nesta getting pregnant with a little Illyrian girl for either of us to see what was still going on. Illyria is part of our Court. We need to do better. We should have the moment we heard about Emerie. She has been a better sister to Nesta than I have, and...and the failings of this Court is why she was clipped and beaten by her horrific father. I am sure you had too much going on when it happened, or maybe your father was even High Lord at the time. But it's no longer acceptable."
Rhys grits his teeth and keeps his gaze trained on the carpet.
"Both of us hate how Tamlin holds the Tithe Hunt if people don't pay, because of terrible old fae tradition, despite how horrible his father was. You cannot keep ignoring this issue like your father did. The only female he cared enough for to allow to fly freely was your mother. I don't want to be that one exception to you. It's not right. We have to be better, Rhys. We have to. Not all females are lucky enough to have the High Lord as their mate like I was. Not all the little girls are born into Velaris. There are girls born into Illyria, terrified of their very anatomy, and girls born into Hewn City afraid of their first bleeding, afraid of being sold off to marriage and used for power and breeding—as human slaves once were." Her voice lowers as a bit of clarity comes into her bleary eyes. "As...I'd believe Lucien's mother was."
She takes a shaky breath. "We are the High Lord and High Lady of this Court. We have to stop this. We're the only ones who can."
"You're right", he mumbles, kissing the side of her neck. "It's just with this war still looming...it will have to wait a while longer until we can get rid of the threats to all Courts. Now that Eris is in Dawn after the mishap, he is no longer a spy for Beron, which is a gigantic blind spot for us. We don't know his movements anymore. At least before Eris was feeding us what he could gather from his father's partially secret meetings. I suppose there is a small blessing in there, seeing as how Beron never actually found out that he betrayed him. I'm sure he guessed, but he has no proof. He still poses a dangerous threat now, however, as we don't have a direct influx of information coming from Autumn."
Feyre nods slowly, her eyes slipping closed as she lays her head on his chest. "You know a lot of things that have been happening, and yet I don't. Nesta told me that the Queens have been using Illyrian males as puppets to do their dirty deeds. Which means that they must be using them to infect others some way, right? Which leads to one thing...they could infiltrate the Illyrian ranks to use them for their side of the war. They could take the Illyrian legion out from under us, Rhys. Did you know this was happening, that their plans are already in motion against us?"
Rhys's gaze goes stormy and he looses a breath. "I heard the rumors, yes. Why do you think I haven't been sending Cassian or Azriel anywhere near there recently? If Briallyn could gain control of Eris, as High Lord's heir, as fast as she did with whatever magic the Cauldron bestowed to her, there is a huge risk to both of them. We saw that when she got to Cassian last time and used him to try to get to Nesta during the Blood Rite. If we lose Cass or Az, if they are turned loose against us...not only would we potentially have to kill them, but if we didn't and they had killed for the other side, they may never want to live with themselves after the fact if the worst happens. I don't want to lose anyone else, least of all my brothers."
"You're right. We can't lose them. We can't. But that wasn't my point. My point is that I didn't hear any of this from you. I had to hear it from Nesta. Who heard it from Azriel, probably during training. And therein lies the problem. You're still keeping things from me. You promised me twice now that you wouldn't lie to me. When I asked you for one thing, I asked you to never lie to me and never keep me in the dark. And you're back to your old habits again. You inducted me as High Lady of this Court. Yet you don't even trust me enough to let me in on things that pertain to its safety. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that?"
Rhys bounces Nyx gently as he dozes, and he meets her gaze. "Feyre, I never want to put any undue stress on you. Especially when Nyx is still little and drains your energy. You don't need to worry about Court matters when you are barely sleeping through the night. I'm taking care of you. Please, let me."
"Don't do that", she bites out. "You sound like—"
"Feyre", he growls lowly. "Don't go there."
"Then stop coddling me. Sure, I am a mother, and I am tired, but that does not mean that I can't uphold my duties. That does not mean I don't know my limitations, or that I'm too stupid to ask for help if I need it. You are not my fucking keeper, Rhys. I didn't want a keeper; I wanted a mate. An equal. And that is what you promised me. That is why I hated Spring. I didn't leave being smothered in one place to being smothered in another. I can't do it. So either you start to tell me the whole truth or—"
"Or what", he breathes out, the temperature in the room dropping as darkness begins to cloud him.
"Or you and I aren't as greatly matched as I had believed", she grumbles, taking a sleepy Nyx and cradling him close to loll onto her shoulder. "Finish what you were in the middle of, and then come to bed. You may be the High Lord, but you are still his father too. And if you're going to be awake, you can be on baby duty tonight. I left his teething gel next to his crib, but if it gets worse, I want Madja or Lucien or someone who can take the pain away brought here."
Rhys nods slowly, taking her in. "Alright."
Feyre turns to leave, and he steps forward, bracing a hand on her shoulder. "Feyre?"
"Yes, Rhys?", she mutters, turning her head to look at him.
"I love you."
"I love you too", she sighs, exiting his study.
.
.
.
Azriel twists in his sleep, the panic overcoming his body and mind as it flashed back to that fateful day.
{ "Mor...", he chokes out, receiving info from his shadows. "It's Sangravah Temple. They've overrun it. Priestesses are dead or being..."
Mor gapes and grabs his arm tight, winnowing them between the Autumn and Spring Courts, right to the Temple, where all of the "misfits", that are denied by both surrounding Courts live.
"Oh gods", she gasps, the entire front of the Temple crumbling. They can still hear screaming and crying and pleading.
Mor grabs the two large blades from her thighs and rushes in. Azriel follows, pulling his swords from his back.
They enter into a room full of broken and bruised bodies; the majority of them are already deceased. The only ones left alive were those who were chosen by the soldier's most vile and disgusting preferences, being assaulted and raped by them. Azriel lets all of his rage flow, intermingling with his magic as he cuts through them with his blades, his strength so fierce that their necks slice clean like melted butter, freeing the girls of their assaulters.
He sees Mor checking on each of them as he makes his way through the temple, sheathing his swords. His shadows lead him along, closer and closer toward the source of the humming inside of him. The sickening feeling of dread also gets worse with each step as he hears muffled crying coming from the industrial kitchen.
Azriel kicks in the door in a rage, growling viciously, and the small group of soldiers...surrounding a young priestess who is being held down on the table and weeping, completely exposed. The male that is violating her doesn't even turn or halt. The other soldiers have the good sense to immediately let go of the female's arms and legs and scuttle back at the raw power surrounding him as he grabs truth-teller from its sheath. All he can see or feel is blind, white-hot rage.
Faster than any of them can process he deeply slices the male's throat open from behind before tearing his head off. The remaining few go to rush out of the room but Azriel outmaneuvers them, slicing and dicing until all that is left are bloodied and mangled males on the ground. He quickly puts truth-teller back into its sheath and wipes some blood from his face, his attention returning to the priestess, now curled up, attempting to cover herself with the remaining scraps of her robe. At the sight of her trembling form, all of his anger vanishes like a flood leaving his body and he takes a tentative step toward her.
He makes his voice as least threatening as he can manage. "I am here to help you. My name is Azriel Erebus. I—it's my job to help people", he says. A half-truth, but one he's hoping will calm her slightly. "The monsters that did this to you...they're gone. You are safe now. I know a place where you will never have to be afraid again."
A head of copper-brown turns, face bruised and tear-streaked, as she curls tighter in on herself, peering over at him. Her shockingly teal eyes meet his as her lip trembles, still unable to speak.
"My friend is here too. She also helps people. She's helping the other females. I'd like to bring you to her, so she can bring you to safety. I would never hurt a female. Ever. May I take you to my friend? Her name is Morrigan. A-And if you aren't comfortable with that, I can go and get her.
The female's expression stays wide and worried before she lowers her gaze to the ground. She whispers, softly but demandingly. "You must get the children to safety first."
"There are children here?"
Her eyes fill with tears, and she motions under the table to a rug. "U-Under...there's—a bunker."
Azriel's eyes widen at the realization. "You were protecting them."
She nods as more tears make their way down her freckled face, and his heart clenches. Chewing his lip, he peeks out of the room and leans down near a deceased priestess, saying a quick prayer before taking her robe.
"You are very brave", he says softly, walking back in and extending the robe towards her.
Her face crumbles and she shakes her head, grabbing it and covering herself as best as she can.
"We should get you to safety before I get the children. They shouldn't see...", he trails off. The female simply nods through her stifled sob.
Gwyn squeezes her eyes shut, a soft humming in her chest—just a small tug, urging her to trust him despite what she has just endured.
He sees a trickle of blood coming from under her and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm going to walk over and lift you now, is that alright?"
She can't help the shaking breaths that escape her lips, so she nods. Azriel scoops her up as gently as he can, holding her close to his chest and covering her body with the robe as much as possible. That tug within her seems to calm her just enough that she allows herself to lean into her savior ever so slightly before sobs begin to wrack her body again. "They killed my sister."
His heart lurches and that thrumming in his chest pangs through him harder. "I am so sorry", he whispers, carrying her towards the main room.
Many of the bodies are already wrapped up by Mor as tears fall down her cheeks as well. She is in the middle of wrapping up a raven-haired priestess, whose head had been sliced from her shoulders.
The female in his arms lets out a pained wail. "Catrin!"
Her sister.
"Morrigan. Take special care", he says. She looks at him, and then the priestess in his arms, and her face falls, nodding as she finishes up.
"They're all finished. Prepared for the others who had hidden to pray over before they are put to rest. They have chosen to go to the safe houses in the Summer Court."
"Fine." He looks down at the red-haired female in his arms, then back at Mor. "She's going to the House of Wind library."
"But that's in our Court."
"Exactly."
"Az, she'll be—"
"Safest. There.", he growls, annunciating to get his point across that he refuses to argue in front of her. There is no reason for him to be feral over this female, but after everything she has been through today, and her choice to trust him, he refuses to ever let her down. The safest place he knows is where he can periodically check on her.
"Right. Yes, you will be very safe there", she coos softly as she takes the short female from Azriel.
"Get her there. I have children to take care of. I'll...see whose parents are alive and then delegate."
Mor looks into his eyes, and they communicate fairly well without words. Without bantering, she holds the priestess a bit closer and winnows away.
Az swallows and moves back to the kitchen, pushing away the table and the rug and unlatching the hidden door to the bunker, revealing over a dozen young eyes squinting up at him. }
His consciousness seems to invade him then, hearing a voice calling out to him.
"Azriel! Az! Wake up, Az!"
With a soft gasp and a tight grip, his eyes fly open to see Gwyn's scared and freckled face looking down at him. He realizes that he is gripping her arm tightly and immediately releases it, taking gulps of air shakily. "Gwyn", he breathes out.
"I'm here", she chokes out, throwing her arms around him. "I've got you. I-I'm safe, Az. You saved me."
He looks at her confusedly and cups her cheek.
"You were yelling my name...and crying. I-I assume it was—"
"I'm sorry. Gods...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Gwyn."
"Shh", she hushes, stroking through his damp hair. "I'm alright. You're alright. It was just a very bad memory. It's over, I am here and I am safe with you."
Azriel places his forehead on hers and he takes the time to simply admire her. Her beauty, her strength, her comfort, and her warmth—all that she is. This amazing female he is lucky enough to call his mate. Finally in his arms, after centuries. He thinks back all those many months ago when he was crying into his pillow and then pushes it away, burying his face into her neck softly, breathing in her scent. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We can't control our dreams. But are you stressed? They usually tend to come out more when stress is involved."
He swallows hard and sighs, pressing his lips against hers and melting into the feel of her. Gwyn kisses back, her eyes slipping closed before smiling softly on his lips. "You're trying to avoid the question, mister."
Azriel groans softly and blinks up at her. "Alright... the truth is...I was going to ask you if you wanted to meet my mother today."
Gwyn's smile widens, and her eyes seem to sparkle like the depths of the ocean. "Really? Oh Az, I'd love to." Then her smile fades. "But...what if she doesn't like me? What if I'm too weird for her?"
Az scoffs lightly onto her skin before peppering her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. "My mother is simply excited that I have someone that I can love with my whole heart and soul. She would love you regardless. But, since you are being self-conscious, I don't want you to worry. You and her will get along swimmingly", he winks.
Gwyn blushes deeply and shoves his chest at the pun. "Are you sure?"
"I am positive. You both tease me endlessly. You're both two of the strongest females I know. You both make me feel loved. And you are both still finding yourselves after recovering from trauma."
Gwyn traces the shape of his tattoos absently and smiles lightly. "Is she doing okay?"
"Yes. In fact, she counsels females who have gone through similar things. Mostly in the Spring, Summer, and as much as possible, Autumn Courts, since she resides...well, close to where Sangravah was. You know, they have rebuilt it from the ground up?"
She takes a breath and nods. "I had heard they demolished it and rebuilt for the females who had survived and refused to leave so they would not have to see the same rooms or the same furniture...mostly the matrons stayed...", she trails off. "It's crazy. Some days I believe I'm completely over it; that I am unbreakable. That nothing and nobody could break me like that again. But then I hear about my old home and it's like it all comes flooding back. Then I wonder if I am just kidding myself with how much I have been telling myself that I could easily stop another attack if I had been who I am now. I don't want to be that helpless victim anymore. I don't want to think about it. Because even after all this training and how strong I have gotten...would it still be enough to fend off another attack? That question haunts me always."
Her teal eyes meet his. "I know that you would always come for me. Protect me. But I want and need to be able to protect myself and I don't know for certain that I wouldn't freeze if I was ever put in that terrifying situation again. I like to think I would be able to fight them off. But there is that small voice inside me that says I would not. That I would freeze, and it would happen again if I didn't have you, or if you were away. I know that I cannot let some stupid ass metaphorical affect me, but some days are still harder than others."
Azriel tugs her close into her chest and kisses the top of her head. "You are right about me always coming for you. You are my mate. If I sensed your distress through the bond, I would be here faster than my wings can take me. Nothing would keep me from you. It didn't then, and it wouldn't now. But if it is any consolation to you, love, I do believe you would be able to fight back. I do believe you could protect yourself. I have all the faith in the world in you. And despite all of my teasing and goading back then, I knew that you girls could get through the Blood Rite too because I knew we had trained you well. I may have been a jittery mess like Cassian, but I wasn't going to show it because I had faith in all three of you to win. Friendship is what got my brothers and me through it, and I know you three are just as close as makeshift sisters, too."
Gwyn buries her face into his chest—his warmth—and lets out a breath. "We are. And I am blessed to have you as my mate, Az." She looks up at him once more and cups his face, pressing her lips to his.
"My mother will love you as much as I do, Gwyn. I can promise you that. She is just a bit—much", he smiles softly. "More outgoing than I am. But she has been teaching me how to make different meals for the last couple of months. She loves to cook. Told me I should know how to be a good mate and uh...husband."
Gwyn's cheeks redden as she looks into his eyes lovingly. "That's so cute. That's why you've gotten better at cooking with me", she giggles.
"Guilty."
She chews her lip thoughtfully. "I would marry you any time, any place. But we don't have to rush, right? I mean...we are already mates, and that trumps marriage. I—I'd like to be more comfortable with crowds, because you would deserve to have your family and friends and everyone who loves you there. Even...even if I only have the girls on my side. Plus, I'd like your mother to attend if we ever did have a ceremony, too. Depending on what she is comfortable with."
Azriel cuts her off with a kiss before she can ramble nervously anymore, sliding his arms around her lithe body. Gwyn's eyes flutter closed, and she kisses back deeply, reveling in the scent and taste and feel of the other half of her soul against her.