Shadows of Regret and Redemption

by UnansweredStars

Summary:

Azriel rejects the bond with Eris but was it truly the right thing to do?

This was a one shot that grew legs and is now currently running away from me.

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Azriel

Azriel’s hand wrapped around Eris’s throat, squeezing the very breath from his lungs and the pompous little prince did not even bother to fight back. Azriel could feel his heart rate racing below his scared fingertips. He could feel the warmth of Beron’s fire trying to break through his shield but Azriel paid no mind. He only had one focus. Azriel looked into Eris’s eyes hoping to finally see a flicker of fear break through his impenetrable courtier's mask. 

Amber eyes met his hazel ones and in that moment Azriel felt the world shift beneath him. He saw a flash of gold and a searing pull from his chest. 

Round doe brown eyes, long blond hair blowing in the wind, a light tinkling laugh, the scent of jasmine heavy and thick, red fabric swaying to the beat of music. The red sway of the dress suddenly transforms into hair in the most amazing variety of red. The smell of embers and spiced whisky was followed by a hearty chuckle. Piercing amber eyes like the sweetest of honey that almost appears gold around the edges.

Gold.

Azriel could still see the gold flooding his vision.

Without hesitation or taking a moment to react or even process if what he was feeling was real he leaned down and whispered so softly that Eris could barely make out the words.

“I reject the bond.”

“Stop!”

“You can not!

“He is our m-”

But it was too late. Azriel had already finished before his shadows could even begin their cacophonous refusal. The shadows had been adamantly against attacking the male in the first place and now their disapproval had gone from a gentle reprimand to screeching their opposition to Azriel’s course of action.

He felt the male stiffen almost imperceptibly, his skin leaching of all color, and the scent of Eris’s fear, a sickly rotting smell, mingled with his scent of embers and spiced whiskey. 

His shadows swirled around him angrily.

“He is ours.”

“You cannot hurt what belongs to us.”

Azriel looked into those widened Amber eyes, a slew of emotions whirling through so quickly it was impossible to pinpoint a single one. Azriel felt himself donning his icey exterior of warrior and spymaster with the smallest glint of victory in his eyes.  With that final glance at the male below him, he rose and returned to the side of his High Lady.

Azriel felt his impenetrable mask of cold stoicism lock into place as he sat, but inside he was falling. Down, down, down, in that cold dark cellar, hands pressed against the icey bars. Laugher echoed down a dark corridor. Then screaming, unrelenting fear and terror swept over him at that sound of a terrified 8-year-old boy screaming and screaming and screaming.

He balled his hands into fists at high sides digging his nails into the skin of his palm just short of drawing blood. The prison of his past was suddenly drowning him in its memories. He felt the loneliness and the icey cold terror washing over him in waves. Trying his best to draw steadying breaths and keep his scent from shifting in front of the most powerful fae in Prythian. The minutes dragged on as he remained completely unaware of what was going on in the meeting at large, only able to focus on each breath in and out, willing it not to shake. 

Azriel felt a sudden warmth crash over him breaking his mind from the grasp of his most painful memories. Looking up he saw Eris watching him from across the table. Once the male noticed Azriel’s gaze upon him he quickly looked away and Azriel felt the warmth dull to a near flicker.

Azriel’s gaze barely left Eris for the remainder of the meeting, waiting for the male to look at him. Those beautiful amber eyes studiously avoided his gaze until at last as he stepped to his mother's side Eris’ eye met his and though the bond was no longer there Azriel felt a pain and anguish so deep and raw it nearly brought him to his knees. And just like that Eris disappeared along with his mother and the remainder of the Autumn party. Azriel told himself that the pain he felt must have been his own because Eris Vanserra had never felt pain and he certainly would not have felt pain over a broken bond.

Eris was a monster and monsters don’t feel pain, Azriel would know because he too was a monster.

***************

Eris

“I reject the bond.”

The finality of those four words brought Eris’ world crashing down. His face paled. He had lived for over five centuries knowing that his mate hated him. That he had pushed him into that hatred in hopes of keeping Azriel far from Beron’s clutches. He knew the risks of maintaining his mate's strong hatred for him and yet deep down Eris had a small flicker of hope that perhaps after the death of Beron when he was finally able to lay his masks aside and his mate was able to see him, truly see him, that he could learn to love him.

That small flicker of hope died as Eris felt the rejection of the bond tear through him. What once was a bright beam of pure starlight, a radiant warmth, a soft quiet song that carried him through his darkest moments turned to a void of darkness that even Azriel’s shadows would not be able to penetrate. Eris wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to know why the mother had cursed him with a terrible life to only be given a terrible future in return.

Eris did none of those things and instead allowed his mask to fall into place once more. A quirk of his lips and sneer at the male above him. Muscle memory carried him through the motions as he broke apart from the inside. Returning to his seat he whispered a meaningless apology to Mor though he did not even feel his lips moving. Eris moved through the motions of the meeting trying his best to pay attention to what was being said while his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Eris felt a creeping anxiety and fear growing throughout the meeting. At first, he thought it was his feelings related to the bond just bubbling up past where he had shoved them down and locked them away but he noticed when he looked over to acknowledge Rhysand talking that Azriel’s posture was rigidly straight, and not in the emotionless warriors posture the male normally had, but this was an uncomfortable and pained posture. His scarred hands were clenched tightly at his sides. 

Looking back Eris isn’t sure why exactly he did what he did but looking at the beautiful winged male before him he knew that he would do anything to put Azriel at ease in that moment. He slowly drew up every ounce of warmth and security that his powers would allow given the wards. Focusing he pulled all of that warmth within him towards that tattered end of the bond and pushed gently releasing his powers into the void of darkness.

He saw a minuscule twitch escape Azriel as the male's eyes latched on his own. Eris could have sworn he just saw a shadow peeking over the male’s shoulder nodding approvingly. It took every ounce of willpower for Eris to rip his gaze from those hazel eyes swimming with some unnamed emotion.

Eris could hardly hear a word spoken after that brief moment of eye contact with his mate.

Some considered his mate unnatural, a monster but Eris only ever saw the male for who he truly was. Beautiful beyond comparison in this world or any other. A strong and steady companion who is loyal to a fault. A male who had been brutally abused and abandoned as a child just as Eris had and yet he did not allow those things to break him. Instead, he became stronger because of it. Brimming with emotions so deep and boundless Eris doubted if anyone ever felt things as deeply as Azriel did. He gave everything for those he loved and continued to give everything despite getting nothing in return. Turning himself into the feared shadow singer of the night court, taking on every burden for the love he held for his family. This male that sat before him was perfection carved by the Mother herself.

It was no surprise that Azriel rejected the bond. Eris had done despicable things to get him where he was today. Things that could never, and should never be forgiven. But how Eris wanted to cling to even a glimmer of hope that his mate would have one day seen him as something other than despicable. That one day he might have desired and loved Eris as much as Eris desired and loved him. Eris wanted, and he wanted, and he wanted. 

Eris was entirely selfish and wholly undeserving of being matched with the magnificent male that was Azriel.

Azriel is no monster, Eris has been and always would be the monster.

Notes:

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Chapter 2: The Aftermath

Summary:

The people have asked (demanded) and so the legs have grown and we are now running. Currently not sure how many chapters I have planned 5 feels natural with the current storyline I have in my head but I also have another element that I kind of want to throw in and make this a long fic but I’m not sure it quite fits this fic. Maybe I’ll save that for a future work down the road.

I cannot promise when I will update but currently I am shooting for weekly.

Chapter Song: All Comes Down by Kodaline

Warning: graphic depictions of torture and violence

Notes:

Thank @Future_Hunt for this chapter because I wrote and posted this chapter because I needed a distraction from her most recent chapter in her current WIP (if you know you know #ch23) A Court of Shadows and Ash. If you have not read this where are you at? It is truly the most wonderful masterpiece of content I have ever consumed.
Please go read her amazing story you will not regret a single second of it.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/53136970/chapters/134449822

Eris

He did not remember a single thing from the meeting much to his father's displeasure. Apparently being in a state of forgetfulness after being nearly strangled to death was not an excuse for his “weakling attitude” at Beron so poetically put it. Eris did not even have the energy to respond to his father's screamed questions and before he knew what was happening he was roughly grabbed by the arm and dragged to the dungeon.

Beron was mad, infuriated actually. Eris had not seen his father this angry in a long time.

Pushing him into the cell, Eris landed on his knees with a sickening crack.

Beron fisted Eris by his hair and dragged him across the floor to the chains on the wall, chaining first his feet and then pulling his arms above him to the chains that hung down.

Eris could not hear his shirt being ripped above the screaming rage of his father but he felt the cool air of the dungeon whip across every pore leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake.

“You are a weakling allowing yourself to be humiliated by that lesser fae bastard! I should have let him kill you.”

He already has Eris thought to himself.

A crack of the whip and the rancid smell of burning flesh brought him out of thoughts of his mate.

“Appologizing to your slut of a fiancé is beneath you!”

”You are weak!”

“How dare that bitch steal what is mine!”

“You dare to whore yourself out to that dawn court female for her experiments!”

”You are a coward!”

On and on Beron went with a lash following each statement. Hours passed as Eris knelt unwavering under each strike of the whip.

At last, Beron started asking questions instead of simply yelling at his son.

Questions were good in the sense that Beron was moving on to the next part of his lesson. Unfortunately, the later part of Beron’s lessons tended to be more creative and far more painful than the first part.

Question after question Beron pressed Eris. The same two questions frequently returned.

“Why did you allow that lesser fae trash to lay hands on you?”

No response.

Eris’ right wrist shattered.

“Did you know of the girl's powers?”

No response.

A searing pain across ribs as Beron flayed flesh from bone.

Hours passed and if Eris was in his right mind he would have known that he had long ago passed the point to begin telling his father half-truths. 

Silence was a tool to be used during Beron’s lessons as cracking too quickly meant he would only believe you to be spouting lies to save yourself but to remain silent infuriated Beron. So there had to be a balance between speaking but not too much. But to speak would be to an acknowledge the profound loss and gapping hole now forever etched into his very soul. Eris could not muster even muster energy to keep his eyes open swaying limply against the pull of the chains.

“I find it hard to believe that you chased her for days across our court and never saw a display of her full magic.”

No response.

Warmth bloomed from Eris’s right thigh as Beron pushed the blade clean through.

Moving backward from questioning to statements was always the worst sign.

“Seeing you have deemed your tongue unusable I will leave you to think of your answers to my questions.”

Beron went to turn and walk out of the cell and still Eris remained unmoving and unresponsive.

Quicker than an arrow leaving a bow Beron gripped Eris’s face and wrenched his mouth open. His tongue began to burn, and burn, and burn as Beron stared at him, eyes feral with delight as Eris felt tears brimming his own.

“You will learn how to use this tongue by the time I return or the next time I shall burn it to ash.”

And then Eris was alone in his cell.

His cell. For it truly was Eris’s cell, over five hundred years ago Beron had claimed this cell as his. Uncleaned of his father's lessons over all of those years there was hardly a space that was not tainted by Eris’s sweat and blood.

This cell housed more memories for Eris than the Forest House did. He spent many sleepless nights as a youngling shackled to these walls. His wrists raw and aching, body broken and bruised, and yet never once had he given in to the despair. He always held on to that glimmering starlight deep inside of the bond and he knew in his soul that his father would never break him so long as he had the light of his mate’s star to guide him home. 

But tonight there was no starlight. There was no going home. Eris was already broken. He could not make it through this without that little piece of starlight to guide his way. There was no freedom awaiting Eris, only cold dark nothingness greeted him. 

********************

Azriel

The stars glittered in the night sky above Azriel and he swooped and dove through the crisp night air but Azriel took no notice. His mind was too preoccupied with running through his altercation with Eris over and over.

He was barely able to focus after they had returned to the room Thesen had provided them. Only pulled from his mindless gaze out the window by the command of his high Lord to search for the threat Nesta was sensing. 

In all truthfulness, Azriel had been too distracted to do much looking but he trusted his shadows would warn him of any looming threats. After circling aimlessly for thirty minutes he had returned and reported his lack of findings and quickly excused himself for the evening.

Shooting into the sky hoping to find solace among the stars with the wind in his wings.

Flying had always been immensely freeing to Azriel, and nothing could ever compare to flying beneath the stars of the night sky. But tonight the sky seemed to be suffocating and the stars seemed invisible, swallowed by the darkness of Azriel’s mind. 

Azriel let out an aggravated huff as he descended towards a nearby clearing.

Boots touching the grass as he pulled back and came to a stop. Azriel dropped carelessly down to the ground bringing his knees to his chest.

The shadows swarmed and dropped a bottle of his favorite whiskey onto the grass beside him.

Bringing the bottle to his lips to take a swig. He found himself instead absentmindedly sniffing the bottle. The scent washed over him and he felt himself relaxing into the grass below.

Warmth washed over him as he took a sip. The familiar burn followed by a pleasant spice overwhelmed his senses in the best way.

Suddenly, as if realizing how relaxed he had become Azriel sat up, staring at the bottle. The liquor still warm in his belly abruptly turned sour. Azriel managed to turn to the side just before he heaved the contents of his stomach up in the grass beside him.

His thighs tightened around the male below him. Unblinking amber eyes stared up at him. The scent of embers and spiced whiskey permeated his very pores.

Spiced freaking whiskey.

That cursed autumn prince ruining his freedom of flying, ruining his favorite drink. At this rate, it won't be long before he was completely and utterly ruining every facet of Azriel’s life.

Staring at the bottle in his hand before he chucked it away into the void between worlds.

Probably better to stay sober tonight anyway. His thoughts were muddled enough without the confusion of alcohol.

The events of earlier that day played over and over in his mind. 

A cruel curse of the Mother. That was the only explanation he could come up with after spending most of the night wallowing in his thoughts and self-pity.

Of course, the male the mother deemed fit to match him with is the most ruthless and monstrous male in all of Prythian. The Monster of Autumn for the Monster of the Night Court, what a perfect pair.

Azriel knew he needed to be getting back for the meeting in a few hours but he found himself struggling to push down and compartmentalize his emotions, ragging within him. This was going to be a long day.

His hands squeezed tightly until he felt warmth running down his wrist streaming from the crescent-shaped marks on his hands.

Taking a shaky but steadying breath as he pulled himself to stand.

He tried his best to push down his lingering doubt and anxiety and he shot off into the cold night, the stars had seemingly disappeared leaving only a cold black expanse of sky that stretched out before him.

Notes:

Research Question: What enneagram do you think different ACOTAR characters are please share in the comments below.
If you listen to Sleeping at Last you know what’s up

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Chapter 3: The Shadows

Summary:

Short but necessary chapter. Next one I have planned should be longggg to make up for this little guy.
Personally not loving this chapter as much as my previous two but excited for the bridge this is to the next part of the story.

Song: “monsters” by Camylio

Notes:

Answer to my research question from the previous chapter

ACOTAR and Enneagram
Azriel: 6w5 “The Loyalist” it’s all in the name
Eris: 3 please listen to “Three” by Sleeping at Last that is my only explanation
Rhysand: 8w7 also why he doesn’t get along with Nesta
Feyre: 4 emotional and unique need I say more
Cassian: 7w8 he is a golden retriever this needs no explanation
Nesta: 8 just straight 8 how stereotypical oldest sister of her
Tamlin: 8w9 this is probably the one I feel most conflicted on
Lucien: 6w7 loyal emissary king with a side of sass do I need say more?
Mor: 9w8 she gives 7 but I feel like it’s a mask and she’s a 9 at her core
Elain: 2 I feel like this is the vibe you get from everyone else’s POV but I wouldn’t be surprised if this changes once we get her own POV
Amren: to those bold souls who picked one for her kudos to you. Amren has been and always will be souless, and therefore enneagramless, to me. 5 if I absolutely had to chose

Azriel

Azriel awoke with a start, a vague and uncomfortable feeling of wrongness shrouded over him. His fingers slid to Truth-teller beneath his pillow.

Quickly scanning his room looking for anything out of place or something that didn't belong only to find everything just as it should be. Silently he crept on his shadows room to room through the townhouse searching for the source of his unease.

Finding nothing Azriel asked his shadows for any updates they may have on the Night court and Prythian at large. His shadows, however, stayed oddly silent. Although ever since his altercation with Eris several days ago the shadows seemed to be more quiet and subdued than normal. If Azriel didn't know better he would have thought they were throwing a tantrum over the whole Eris situation, but for as long as he had the shadows they had never had a will of their own and had always acted in accordance with his own desires so he did not know why they were rebelling against him only now.

Eris, the male he couldn't clear his mind of for more than a few seconds without being brought reeling back to thoughts of red hair tangled in scared hands, pale lithe fingers tracing swirling tattoos on bronze skin, amber eyes beckoning him home.

Shaking his head of illusions Azriel brought the palms of his hands to his eyes, pressing until he saw stars.

“Go. Find what is wrong and help me make it right.” He commanded his shadows, watching as the bulk of his shadows lifted and swirled away into the darkness.

********************

Eris

Days passed as Eris floated between consciousness. He could feel the dark and powerful pull of death come closer and closer each time he awoke. He was shattered and broken beyond repair. Not simply physically, but his very mind and soul were ripped out and only an empty void remained.

Tears streamed down his face as he begged the Mother, the cauldron, any god who would listen to simply let him die. He could not live like this. He could not live knowing that the one good thing in his life had crumbled to ash. He could not live with the gaping hole inside of him. He could not live without the light of his star to give him hope in his darkest moments and guide him home.

Suddenly, Eris felt a cooling touch run across his face. The touch was so slight that some may have thought it a simple breeze but Eris knew that this was more. Opening his eyes he saw shadows flickering and moving before him. He felt them run across his tear-stained face whisking away the tiny droplets of moisture as they went.

Eris felt the smallest tug in his chest and he could feel that tiny piece of starlight flickering back into existence with each touch of the shadows. Not the bright burning light he once knew but a tiny echo so deep within him that he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating the entire thing. Once his tears were no more shadows began to twine around his body pushing ever so gently as if to say

“We are here.”

“This is real.”

“You are ours.”

“We will help you.”

Maybe they were saying those things? 

Now Eris was even more convinced that he was indeed hallucinating. But real or not that brief flicker of starlight was enough to pull Eris from the despair of his mind and back into his body.

As though sensing their job was done the shadows began retreating one by one bobbing about in a mass of swirling black in front of Eris appearing almost pleased with themselves. 

One shadow did not follow its brethren as they gathered as a dark mass in the corner of the cell before disappearing from sight. Eris watched as the lone shadow bobbed in front of him for a moment, seemingly looking for approval.

“Why little pest, do you want to stay with me?” Eris rasped out, his throat raw from screaming at the cruelty of the Mother.

The shadow began vibrating rapidly as if in confirmation of Eris’s question.

With a slight dip of his head in permission Eris watched at the shadow twinned around his arm snaking its way up his body where at last he felt the shadow sink and settle at the base of his skull beneath the curtain of his hair.

The starlight in his chest seemed to grow brighter as the shadow settled in.

Eris was fairly certain that he was hallucinating but perhaps it was a small blessing from the Mother as an apology for all the terrible and twisted things she had done to him throughout his miserable existence.

When Beron at last returned Eris fed him pretty lies and half-truths as he always did. 

Satisfied for the time being Beron released Eris from his chains with a flick of his hand, waving his second eldest, Caradoc, into the cell to take Eris back to his chamber. As Eris was half carried, half dragged down the hall he clung to the flicker of starlight buried deep inside him, forever burned into his very mind and soul. 

Crossing the threshold to his chamber he promised himself that he would never again lose himself as he had the past few days. As he was dumped unceremoniously to the floor he felt the shadow shifting to run soothing trails up and down his ravage back. With each featherlight touch, he can see that flicker of starlight grow brighter and brighter. For his court, for his family, he would hang on to that flickering illusion of starlight. 

Conjured from pure desperation and despair Eris held on to that flicker with each ragged breath. The darkness would not prevail, for Eris now had a new star to guide him home.

Notes:

Research question
How exactly do you imagine Azriel’s shadows work and how they “speak” to him

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Chapter 4: The Shattering

Summary:

Sorry for the wait on this one I just could not get it to flow like I wanted to and eventually made the decision to move away from having both Eris and Azriel's pov's in every chapter. It is a bit of a longer one so hopefully that can make up for the delay.

TW: mentions of suicidal ideation/attempts

Song: Falling Apart by Michael Schulte

Notes:

I loved hearing everyone's theories on the shadows and how they function. I am looking forward to seeing SJM explore them more. I am personally a big fan of the rouge shadow theory.

Months went by and Azriel was unable to shake the memories of that fateful High Lords meeting, nor could he ignore the undeniable pull he felt towards the Autumn heir.

After rescuing Eris from Koschie’s clutches merely a week ago the pull had become overwhelming. 

In a brief moment of weakness, after trying to first drown his memories in alcohol for the fourth time that week, Azriel sunk into his shadows and let them pull him away to Autumn.

At last.

We are here!

He is here!

Of course, his shadows were thrilled by his drunken decision, they had been tormenting him about Eris ever since he had rejected the bond. Azriel was honestly surprised that they had not forcibly shadow-walked him into Autumn prior to this. 

Not that they hadn't tried before but Azriel had been keeping a tight leash on them to prevent them from doing that very thing. 

Looking around, Azriel was not entirely sure where in Autumn he landed but it must be somewhere near the coast because he could smell the salty brine of the sea from his shadowed veil amongst the trees.

Just five minutes and then I'll head back to the townhouse to sleep off this inevitable hangover, Azriel thought to himself as he turned to take in his surroundings.

The night sky was completely obscured by the fall foliage above him, the ancient oaks towering high above him. Pulled by some invisible force he began winding through the trees on an unmarked path. The scent of the ocean becoming stronger as the trees thinned, Azriel could feel the salt beginning to coat his skin.

He came to a halt just at the edge of the woods, where the ground transitioned from the fallen leaves and dirt of the forest to the rocks and sand of the beach beyond. The moonlight shone brightly through the break in the trees.

“Why did you bring me here?” Azriel asked, half pondering to himself and half asking his shadows for a response.

Look.

See.

We are here.

He is here.

At that last statement from his shadows, Azriel began  scanning his surroundings in earnest but he still saw nothing beyond the waves lapping lazily against the shore. A stone's throw away, a pile of boulders sat near the water's edge catching his eyes, and just as he was about to step nearer to satisfy his curiosity one of the boulders moved. 

Not a boulder. 

Someone sitting on the ground, knees brought tightly to their chest staring out at the water.

“Who is it?” Azriel asked his shadows even though he already had a feeling he knew exactly who was sitting on Autumn's beach in the middle of the night.

Before his shadows could give a reply the figure moved their head ever so slightly causing their hair to catch the moonlight revealing a glimpse of fiery red cropped hair. Though it is just for the briefest of seconds Azriel would recognize those strands of burning auburn hair anywhere.

Before Azriel even realized what was happening his mouth was moving of his own accord, voice as soft as a whisper of wind passing through barely parted lips.

“Eris.”

Though the sound should have been covered by the shadows surrounding him— or at least carried away by the violent winds surrounding him— the male had tilted his head as if he heard Azriel’s whispered plea.

Amber eyes turned towards his own hazel eyes, rooting Azriel firmly in place. The other male should have no awareness of him deep in his shadows those Amber eyes burned through him and Azriel had a prickling feeling that he could not hide in his shadows from this male.

Azriel went to take a step forward to talk to Eris— about what he was not sure but he could feel the ache in his hollowed chest pulling him towards the other male.

Before Azriel could move he noticed that the Amber eyes staring back at him were wrong, empty in a way he had never seen. The fire that normally danced within those pools of amber was extinguished and the eyes looking back at Azriel were dull and vacant. Even after being abducted by Koschie his eyes were not this lifeless.

Azriel stared down at the male cradle against his chest as he flew rapidly away from the lake.

“Safe.”

“He is safe singer.”

“He is ours now.”

“We must never let him go.”

His shadows darted about frantically between him and Eris checking for physical injuries on the male.

Azriel could not hear the chatter of his shadows above his pounding heartbeat perfectly in sync with the one cradled against his chest. 

As soon as they were far enough away from the boundaries of the lake, Azriel shadow walked away.

The cold biting air whipped across Azriel's face as he stepped out of his shadows above the moonstone palace several hours of shadow walking later. 

Spotting an empty balcony, Azriel plummeted rapidly towards the marble floor below. Landing harshly he beat his wings to maintain his balance. 

As he knelt  to the floor he turned Eris around so he was able to see the male’s face. Azriel was startled to find that Eris still did not appear to be released from the thrall of the crown, his eyes, glazed and murky.

“Come on you prick,” Azriel growled as he shook the other male's shoulders.

“Gods I do not have time for this shit. Pull yourself together.” Shadows roiled between the pair.

“He needs time.”

“He needs help.”

“Do not hurt him.”

Azriel let out a frustrated growl at his shadows as they attempted to restrain his hand from slapping Eris back to his senses.

“You pests! Unless you lot have a better suggestion then get off of me.” The shadows still did not release their hold on his hand until he had relaxed it back at his side. 

“The room.”

“Take him to the room.”

“He needs rest.”

“He needs help.”

Too exhausted and frustrated to continue arguing with his shadows, Azriel stood, grasping Eris below his shoulders and dragged the male down the hallway.

The first door on the left opened as he approached. White gossamer curtains billowed in the wind. The room, bare of furniture, save a plain wooden wardrobe and bed centered in the room.

Azriel was tempted to leave Eris as a crumpled heap on the cold marble floor, but as if reading his thoughts his shadows began tugging him towards the bed.

“Here.”

Shadows guided his arms, lifting the male onto the black silk duvet.

The pale skin of the Autumn heir lay starkly against the midnight black sheets. Red hair pooled around his shoulders, shadows darting in between the strands. Cheekbones sharp and seemingly more prominent due to an unusual thinness to his face. His normally pristine and polished clothing was rumpled and worn with buttons half fastened and frayed threads Eris’s glazed eyes remain fixed straight ahead staring into the abyss of the onyx ceiling. Unseeing and unblinking, sweat beaded across his brow.

Azriel turned to leave Eris in his stupor but his eyes caught the slight twitch of the male's pale fingers.

“Eris.” Lifting his hand to reach for the male for what reason he did not know, but stopped as Eris suddenly began convulsing.

Shadows dart to him pushing him to his side. Kneeling, Azriel placed a hand firmly on Eris’s shoulder and felt the male’s forehead with the back of his other hand.

Amber eyes flew open and locked with his as Azriel remained frozen in place. Burning flames brighter than the hottest flame dance within those eyes, unwavering in their gaze.

Heaving gasps puffed past barely parted lips as Eris shifted his feet to the floor. Azriel could feel the warm breaths against his cool skin and his raven hair swayed against his forehead.

Taking a steadying breath of his own, Azriel dropped his hands back to his sides, though they twitched with the uncomfortable desire to calm the other. The scent of embers and spiced whiskey became drowned in the overwhelming scent of fear and revulsion.

Beads of sweat began forming down the perfectly pale skin of the Autumn heir as he stumbled to his feet swaying slightly before crashing to his knees.

Azriel lurched forward reaching out a scarred hand to catch the male before he could fall any further.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Eris visibly recoiled from his outstretched hand.

Azriel thought he saw a flash of panic flicker through those amber eyes but it must have been a trick of the dark as in the moment he took to blink Eris was once again cold and distant. His eyes held nothing but disdain and arrogance, mouth curled up in a cruel sneer.

He looked as though he was going to say something with his viper tongue but before he had the chance he began violently retching, emptying his stomach onto the floor. Nothing but black bile made its way past the male’s lips and he was quickly dry-heaving as it appeared there was nothing left in his stomach.

Many long minutes passed and Eris remained heaving and shaking on the floor. Azriel tried to reach for him at one point only for the male to flinch almost imperceptibly away from the movement.

At last, after far too long, Eris wiped his mouth with the back of a shaky hand— his eyes focused intently on the floor beneath him.

“Eris.” Azriel barely recognized the gentle tone in which he spoke the male's name as he reached for the other's face. 

The flinch was unmistakable this time as scared skin grasped unblemished skin. Firmly gripping the male’s chin between his fingers he lifted Eris’s face to meet his. Eris released short stuttering breaths, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Look at me.” Coming out much more tenderly than the command he intended it to be.

Red lashes fluttered open and amber eyes meet his, the glazed glassy eyes from earlier nowhere to be seen as Azriel was consumed entirely by the fire burning in those amber eyes. The flames calling to him, beckoning him closer.

Closer.

Closer.

“Azriel! Where the heck are you?” Mor’s voice floated down the hallways as heels rattle against the marble.

Now merely a breath between the space of their faces Azriel shook off his revere, having no idea how long he and Eris had sat like that on the dirty floor, staring at each other, his scarred hand never leaving the male’s face. 

“It’s Feyre! We need to get Cassian and Nesta now!”

Shit Cassian! How did he forget Cassian? His brother. He left him alone and trapped. He had been too consumed the lordling before him to give his brother a second thought.

Disgust and guilt swept over him like a tidal wave and he dropped his hand from Eris as he began to sink into his shadows pulling him to Mor.

Before the shadows pulled him away entirely he saw Eris shutter, his eyes once more screwed shut and Azriel thought for just a second he could see the glitter of a tear forming on those red lashes.

Monsters do not have tears. Monsters do not cry.

The waves crashed against the shore. The Autumn breeze whipped by, twirling auburn strands of hair in the wind. Those empty amber eyes still staring back at him. 

Wrong, so wrong. Something was wrong and Azriel could not figure out why it was bothering him.

Before Azriel had more time to ponder on the wrongness his attention is snagged on a flicker of darkness winding around Eris’s arm. 

Not darkness but a shadow. 

His shadow.

Azriel was certain that none of his shadows had left him since he landed in Autumn as he had kept their leash tight. Which meant this particular shadow had been here for a while, at least longer than this evening. 

He tried calling the shadow back to him, pulling on that tether between the little dark being and himself but the shadow simply appeared to double down on its efforts, moving more rapidly around Eris.

As if sensing his thoughts Eris looked down at his arm and the shadow twinning around it and attempted to shake it off. To which the shadow simply slithered down his arm following the sweep of his collarbone, going to rest at the nape of Eris’s neck.

The Autumn heir took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and turned his head back to the ocean ahead.

At the loss of those amber eyes, Azriel felt like a violin string pulled to taut. Standing there on the edge of the autumn woods fixated on the male before him waiting for the string to snap in half and release him from this pressure, this burning.

Unaware of anything other than the male sitting unmoving, mere feet before him, Azriel remained frozen in place.

Eventually, the last of the stars winked out and the first rays of the sun touched the sky as dawn began.

Without warning, just as the sun peaked above the waves, sunlight glimmering along the surface, Eris winnowed away. Azriel felt that violin string snap, now fluttering uselessly against the fingerboard below.

He was floating. Neither in his body nor of his body. Splintering into a thousand pieces, shattering every piece of who he was, and being pulled apart at the seams.

Shadows twirled rapidly around him, comforting him, holding together every piece of him that was trying desperately to escape.

His lungs grew heavy and he found himself falling harshly to his knees. Swallowing lungful after lungful but the heaviness simply grew with each breath as each piece of him continued to fall apart revealing the monster trashing below.

He was suffocating and the icy monster within was feasting upon every shattered piece of him.

“Help me.” He rasped out to his shadows between gasping breaths.

The shadows swirled anxiously as they dragged him soundlessly from the edge of the woods to the boulders Eris had winnowed away from a moment before.

His shadows released him and he felt the cool pebbles of the beach below his scared fingers. The scent of embers and spiced whiskey enveloped him as he reached a hand out to steady himself on one of the boulders. 

Instantly, Azriel felt a calm wash over him, and every shattered piece of him appeared to glow a burning gold. A fireless heat enveloped him, as the monster thrashed within its icy cage. 

Warmth and light spread throughout him smothering the monster within its cage. Every fragmented piece reeled back to him, piecing back together. 

Floating back to the awareness of his body he could feel himself grounded in place by the warmth emanating from the bolder below his fingertips.

Warmth.

Uncanny and unnatural warmth encompassed him.

Opening his eyes Azriel looked toward his hand and half expected to see Eris’s fiery hand entwined with his own. Instead, he saw nothing but the cold smooth grey plains of the boulder.

Moving his hand in his confusion to find the source of the strange heat Azriel glimpsed a blackened mark directly below his outstretched hand.

Look closer.

Shadows whirled and darted around the boulder.

Below the soot and grime, Azriel could make out a vague indentation of a handprint. Tracing his fingers across the mark, that strange warmth followed his touch.

A strange impulse overcame him as he laid his palm flat against the mark, allowing his fingers to relax overtop the blacked ones beneath.

Once he was able to focus beyond the tingling warmth that radiated down his hand from every point of contact with the stone he could clearly feel that the indentation below perfectly encompassed every line and curve of his hand. As if his own hand and the one below were two pieces of the same puzzle, a perfect reflection of the other.

Lulled by the warmth and safety radiating below his hand Azriel pressed his forehead to the cool stone above his hand. Closing his eyes in a moment of true peacefulness.

As he pressed closer the fragile peace was broken by a pounding echo in his mind. Not a voice exactly, more of a faint sensation deep in his core rippling through his very soul. The deeper he leaned into the stone the more overwhelming it became.

He must be losing his mind. 

Anger, hatred, fear, and sorrow, great sorrow. Wave after relentless wave crashing over him. Not his feelings, but that of another, of someone who had given up entirely. Whom death had come for, and whom death had taken. 

Unable to pull himself away, the echoes of emotions raged through him like wildfire. Shadows darted frantically around him attempting to pull him away from where his hand and forehead remained pressed fast against the boulder.

Azriel had lived with overwhelming and oppressive emotions his entire life and at times he had wished he could die, sometimes even going so far as trying to die, rather than live through those feelings. Yet never once had he felt as he did right now. 

He knew for a fact that this time he did not need to wish for death, as death would come for him nevertheless. The intensity of these emotions was simply too deep, too strong, too powerful to escape the strangling grip that death held on him.

Unable to move, to open his eyes, to even breathe. The beast within slumbered. His shadows grew quiet. 

He needed to escape. To release those relentless echoes screaming into his mind.

His mouth opened on no command of his own.

He screamed.

And he screamed.

And he screamed.

Notes:

Listen we all know Beron is going to die in canon but how exactly do you think SJM will do it?

Follow me on Tumbler for unhinged thoughts and updates

Chapter 5: The Breaking

Summary:

Eris is big sad and I am not sorry.

TW: suicidal ideation, mentions of SA(not graphic) I have included the sections to skip in the end notes.

Song: "Suicide Note" by Jurrivh and "it is what it is" by Abe Parker

Notes:

I am in hearty agreement with those of you that commented against a member of the IC killing Beron (only Azriel can and only if Azris actually turned into a thing).
I feel as though a blood duel with Helion is a good guess but I really am hoping that Eris is the one to deal the killing blow because he just needs that closure. Additionally having the killing blow makes his bid for the throne stronger in my mind.

The cool Autumn breeze whipped past Eris, blowing strands of auburn hair into his eyes as Eris screamed into the night air.

And he screamed.

And he screamed.

His white shirt billowed in the wind, catching the still-healing wounds on his back with each movement. Though Eris took no notice of the physical pain tormenting his body as his mind reeled. The echoes of the past days’ conversations and memories ravaged through his mind. He could still feel his father’s fire wrapped around him, tightening against his chest, suffocating him in its heat.

Beron’s face red with anger and mottled with droplets of Eris’s blood swam in front of his dimming vision. “You say that the Night Court did not know it was you they were saving at the lake but how did they know to save anyone at all?”

A wet gravelly breath made its way through Eris’s chest as he answered.“It was the shadowsinger. His shadows sensed that someone of value had been taken. They were most disappointed to find that it was me when they arrived.” They had been at this for hours and Eris’s story remained unchanged and yet Beron still kept going, not because he did not believe his son. No, Eris knew that his father believed his web of lies and half-truths several hours ago, this part was purely for the sick pleasure that he got from breaking his son.

Eris could not see his father but he could hear his footsteps nearing behind him. Preparing for another blow Eris began retreating into his mind once again, but instead of the sharp tip of a blade or the flaming sting of the whip, Eris felt a warm hand resting on his hip as a gentle finger began trailing the rough edges of a lash mark.

The feeling of skin on skin made Eris’s stomach turn, the memory of cold shriveled fingers running down his naked back slunk in through his mental shields before he could force it away. He bit the inside of his cheek as he forced himself to swallow the bile threatening to spill.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the darkness in the corner shifting. Not darkness, but his little shadow. The shadow that had not left him since he had returned to the Hewn City. He wanted so desperately for that little shadow to return to him, to touch his skin and erase the sickening feeling growing within him and tether him back to that tiny glimmer of starlight locked deep inside of him. That glimmer was pale and dull, almost lifeless, too far out of reach for him to latch on to without the help of his shadow.

He unwittingly lurched toward the shadow in his desperate attempt to ground himself back to the starlight only to be stopped short by the chains encircling him.

Quick as a viper, Beron dug a finger into the lash mark he had been trailing, just below Eris’s shoulder. “Why then did they save you instead of leaving you for dead like the useless trash that you are? WHat did you promise them?” 

Eris grit his teeth, swallowing down the blood oozing from the bite on his cheek. “I do not know. They were not very welcoming or open when we returned. Perhaps they did it out of pity or some misguided attempt at heroism. They held all the power and I was not about to push my fortunes by demanding their reasonings. I promised them nothing of value.” Eris knew he had made a mistake as soon as the last words were out of his mouth but he could not find it in him to care.

Warmth crowded him from behind and he felt Beron’s hot breath ghost across the tip of his ears as he hissed, “You whored yourself out like a prostitute to any fae with a morsel of power as you are too weak and helpless to even protect yourself.” The skin of his ear and neck bubbled painfully from the burning heat radiating off of Beron.

Circling to face Eris, his finger still tracing the lash mark continuing over his shoulder to his bicep. “Incapable of maintaining even a small group of your men and yet you expect to rule Autumn one day. Saved by the Night Court like a fucking damsel. I would have rather they brought your head back on a spike than be indebted to those brutes and their halfbreed High Lord!” 

Eris could barely hear his father speaking over the thundering of his heart as memories clawed their way out forcefully shoving the sickeningly heavy scent of lavender and sage into his nose. The feeling of heavy layered skirts brushing his inner thigh. Rough dry lips stained blood red capturing his own.

Sweat pooled off of Eris as his mind reeled, desperately trying to cram every memory back down. Eris was fortunate that Beron was likely attributing the shallow breathing and sweating to the burns now marring his neck and ear. For once in his life instead of retreating into his mind to block out the pain Eris focused on the pain. He allowed the pain to wash over him and cleanse him of those memories, letting them burn along with his charred skin. His breathing began to even and the sweat dried on his brow.

Reaching out a hand to cup Eris’s cheek in a motion that might be considered affectionate had he not been covered in his son’s blood, the whip in his hand still burning with the scent of flesh.“I have spent your entire life teaching you how to be High Lord and how do you repay me for that time, effort, and love?” At that last word, Beron gently wiped at a blooming bruise across Eris’s cheek. 

Gripping his face firmly Beron tugged his face up so the two males' eyes locked. “You spit in my face and make a laughing stock of me and this court. You cannot even manage to care for yourself, how are you to run an entire court? No High Lord of Autumn would be so incompetent and weak as you.” His father released his grip and Eris’s full weight sagged against the cold metal shackles above his head. 

Turning, Beron continued as he moved towards the door, “I may have spent much time forming you into the male you are today but do not be so arrogant to think you are irreplaceable my son. If you cannot remedy your failures, and quickly, then I shall see to it that there is one less obstacle in the way of your brothers taking the crown.” Spinning on his heel to face his son making sure the heir was still conscious for the last verbal blow. “Better an idiot or a mute on the throne than a coward who is no better than a useless female.” The cold unforgiving clang of the cell door was the last thing Eris remembered before the darkness took him completely.

That was 3 days ago. 3 days of the darkness taking hold of his mind as he stumbled blindly searching for that piece of starlight. 

The wind continued to roar around Eris swallowing down the screams that the heir threw carelessly to the wind.

Eris remembered the searing silver light that momentarily had blinded him upon waking this morning, and only after several forceful blinks had he been able to orient himself to his bed chambers.

He had to hurriedly pull himself together piece by piece to ready himself for his meeting with the Night Court. Not taking as much care with perfecting his image and locking each mask and glamor carefully into place is probably how he had ended up in that ridiculous conversation with Cassian in the first place.

“I grew up surrounded by monsters. I’ve spent my existence fighting them. And I see you, Eris. You’re not one of them. Not even close. I think you might even be a good male. You’re just too much of a coward to act like one.”

The night air continued to whirl around him, misting him with the fine ocean spray. The fire running through his veins flared dangerously, sending off sparks around him.

“What the hell does that bastard even know about me!” Eris shouted against the wind

He could feel himself sweating from the overbearing heat within, his body desperately trying to control his unstable magic. He had not been this out of control of his powers since he was a youngling when he had first met Az—

No don’t think about him, Eris chastised himself shaking his head to rid himself of the memories that surfaced.

He needed to get his flames under control before he burned from the inside out, leaving nothing but ashes.

Ashes. His mouth tasted of ashes as the body writhed below him. “Enjoy yourself my darling, I know I certainly am. Show me how much truth there is to that saying about Autumn males.” The crone’s voice was gravely and grating causing his body to tense and hair to stand on end even as he fought against the soothing lull of the crown. He knew he could just give in and that he could not fight the crown’s pull any better than he had every previous time but he knew that as soon as he completely gave up that it was over. He promised himself that he would fight with every fiber of his being until the end of time until the last spark of fire in him died.

Days passed and Eris could no longer remember his name, only the promise he had made to himself to never give in remained a constant battle cry in his mind. Forbidden from sleep and food, even the reprieve of water was not permitted. He felt his body and mind beginning to splinter, even so, the fire in his veins continued to burn against the pull of the crown.

Three days later he felt the final spark go out, and the embers within his soul die out. He did not fight the crown again after that. 

The rest of his memories after that were only a haze of teeth on skin, cruel fingers wrapped around strands of bright auburn. The taste of wine and sage heavy on his tongue. The cold chill of silken sheets against his naked body.

The cold Autumn wind continued to batter against the Autumn heir. Still, he yelled into the night sky begging the stars to rip these memories away from him. Screaming until his voice was no more he wondered to himself if maybe he was wishing for the wrong thing. Perhaps instead of ripping away the memories the stars could simply rip him away from this life, to be no more than a flame winking out in the night from one breath to the next.

There were many times in Eris’s sorrowful existence when he thought he had died and passed on to the next life only to be cruelly thrown back into his body, into the masks, the miseries, and the pain. More than once he had thought of simply ending it all and fading into oblivion but when it truly came down to he was never able to take that leap. Always remembering at the last minute Matthan’s ethereal voice, Aodh’s bright eyes, Caradoc’s chubby toddler cheeks, or some other foggy memory of his brothers and knowing the horrors that would await them if he well and truly left them alone was always enough to bring him back to the cruel reality that he must continue to live because without him his brothers would have no one.

For just once in his life Eris wanted so desperately to be selfish. To do what he wanted and damn the consequences.

Hoarse screams turned to violent vomiting as his voice gave out. Falling to his knees among the cold stones of the beach, he flung out his hand against a boulder to steady himself as the fire within him screamed for escape, melting the rock below.

His body wracked and heaved long after the contents of his stomach were gone and it was not until he tasted the salt on his tongue that he realized he had been crying.

Beron, Cassian, Braillyn, the thoughts swirled endlessly through his mind, unable to place where one voice ended and another began.

Coward.

Weak.

Insignificant.

Failure.

Whore.

Incompetent.

Worthless.

He slowly moved from his knees to a seated position with a boulder to his back as he brought his knees to his chest. Sobs pierced through the night air as he felt the cold heavy drops stream down his face.

At last, after what may have been minutes or hours when he had not even a whisper of tears remaining, his voice long since gone, the howling of the wind around him ceased to a gentle whisper calling out his name.

“Eris.”

The softest whisper, the gentlest kiss of air against his ear, the voice he yearned for more than anything else.

Turning his head toward the gentle caress of the wind he saw him standing there. More shadow than man, standing at the very edge of the wood, his beautiful wings tucked tightly against him. The shadows of the forest seemed to reach out to the male claiming him as part of the land. The darkness enveloping Azriel dulled him around the edges and hid some of the sharpness of his features, but the male was no less beautiful because of it.

The hallucination of Azriel, for that is all it could be, appeared to take a step forward before his hands clenched at his sides. Eris vividly remembered the feeling of those scarred hands on his face mere days earlier.

Suddenly he was pulled from the bed and placed haphazardly back into his finery with a steady steed below him. He should have been frightened or at the very least anxious that the next part of the game was being played but Eris felt nothing, for he was nothing more than a mindless piece of flesh to be thrown to the whims of the wolves again and again.

Only once he reached the edge of the cold cruel lake did he notice that the heavy of weight of the crown had lifted but instead of relief he felt dread pooling deep in his gut.

And then there was nothing but darkness until he felt a cool hand against his forehead. When he had opened his eyes the darkness gave way to the image of Azriel kneeling before him, the scent of his fear heavy in the air. Eris had never seen a more glorious sight in his life and could have happily stayed frozen in that moment for all of time, that is until he realized Azriel was touching him. 

His mate was touching him, and although his touch was nothing like the cruel and sultry touches of Briallyn his mind could not separate the past from the present and he completely lost control of himself. Jerking away from the care and comfort of his mate.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

He had yelled at his mate, all while quickly reassembling every mask of courtly grace and arrogance, desperately trying to gain control of himself. And then he was vomiting and Azriel was saying his name so gently, so tenderly. He would never look at me again, much less touch me if he knew what I was doing with Briallyn. 

But then he was touching him, reaching out his hand and forcing Eris to meet his eyes. Azriel’s eyes had never held so much emotion as what Eris saw in those fleeting moments. His mind screamed at him to look away, to remove himself from the magnificently rough scarred hands. He was too damaged, too broken, too irreparably tainted to ever be worthy of the touch of his mate, worthy of the emotions swirling in those hazel eyes.

But before he was able to move away Mor’s voice pierced through the still quiet of the room. He saw Azriel transform before his eyes as the male pulled away as though he had been burned. The disgust and hatred overshadowed any gentleness and worry that had been present only moments ago.

Eris closed his eyes as he could no longer face the uncaring stoic male that was now kneeling before him. He could hear Azriel stand before his shadows, presumably whisking him away to Mor taking with him the comforting scent of mist and cedar. 

Eris felt the tears welling behind his eyes at the rejection of his mate, of the clear disgust the male felt towards him. Azriel was right to hate Eris, he was right to be disgusted by him, Eris was disgusted and hated himself so how could he ever expect another to care for him, to love him? He did not deserve another’s care and he certainly did not deserve another love.

The burning piercing gaze of hazel eyes broke him free from the memories he was drowning in. Those eyes were the only part of the shadowsinger completely unobscured by the writhing darkness around him. Those eyes locked in a dance with Eris’s own amber eyes. Pinned by that fierce icy gaze Eris remembered that promise he had made all those months ago and that piece of starlight that he had so desperately clung to.

At the thought of that starlight, Eris felt his shadow come crawling from its usual spot at the nape of his neck, twirling along his arm until it was floating directly above his palm. 

Eris couldn’t quite remember exactly when he started calling the shadow his, but the little pest had barely left his side since that night in the dungeon all those many months ago. The little twirling creature was the most steadfast companion he’d had in all his centuries of life. Only having abandoned him momentarily at Koschie’s lake, and immediately appeared back at his side upon his return to the Court of Nightmares.

His eyes gently closed as the little shadow made its way back down his arm before playfully whirling through his hair as it shifted in the ocean breeze while Eris remained lost in thought.

Seeing his mate when he was not there, hearing his voice, feeling the comfort of his presence, perhaps this was the madness of a broken bond coming to pass at last. He did not look back towards that apparition of Azriel, not wanting to acknowledge what may or may not be there if he looked again.

The Autumn heir drifted away from the pull of his memories now absorbed in the thought of the madness of a rejected bond. Most cases of a rejected bond ended in either death or complete insanity of the one on the receiving end of the rejection but Eris could not help but feel that maybe this descent into madness would be a kindness a way of slowly drifting away from who he was and the memories that trapped him. The madness may break Eris but maybe he would walk away from this spiral of madness as a new male, one too consumed by the rejection of the bond to hold to the male he was before, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. 

After all, what worth did he even have before the rejection, it is as though he had much to lose at this point. He had always been unworthy and incapable of love but just possibly the madness would change him enough to be capable of love, to deserve that love.

Perhaps the madness did not have to break him. Perhaps it would be the very thing that saved him, that made his life worth something.

It was with that thought that Eris winnowed back to his chambers in the Forest House holding tightly to his little shadow and the flicker of starlight that it led him to.

Notes:

Follow me on Tumbler for updates and all my unhinged anxiety riddled thoughts

To skip mentions of SA:
Stop at - as memories clawed their way out forcefully
Start at - Sweat pooled off (the next paragraph down)
Stop at - His mouth tasted of ashes (This section is longer and the most descriptive)
Start at - The cold Autumn wind continued to batter

Sorry I know this is a sensitive topic to some but it is a topic that is personally important to me and I also strongly believe this was likely to have happened in canon and I felt necessary to include it in the story for me.

 

Yes I am a sucker for parallels in writing and that will probably never change.
Please feel free to let me know if you notice any writing issues or non canon compliance my editing game is very weak.

Also what do we think about all the flashbacks? To much past and not enough present content?

Chapter 6: The Madness

Summary:

Day 6 Azris Week: Changes

Sorry this chapter took me ages to get out but here it is in all 8k of its glory

Petulant shadows, confused Azriel, time jumps oh my!

It was supposed to be a duel POV chapter but Azriel just had too much to say so you’ll have to wait to hear from Eris next time unfortunately.

The sun had fully risen by the time Azriel’s voice ran hoarse and he had slumped to the ground, arms useless at his sides. He wasn’t sure if the sudden chill he felt was from the cold stones below him or breaking contact with the burned handprint. It seemed his shadows had been as overwhelmed with whatever that experience was as he had been as they lay limp on the beach below him. 

Azriel did not know how much time passed before he was finally able to pull himself to his feet attempting to pull his shadows with him only to be met with sluggish black wisps feebly twisting and twinning their way slowly up his legs. The slow movement of his shadows as they moved their way further up was so similar, though slower, to the shadow he had seen with Eris only hours earlier. What in the cauldron was one of his shadows doing with the male? How long had it been with Eris? Why did the shadow not yield to his call earlier? 

Closing his eyes against the sunlight, Azriel tried reaching out to that shadow along the tiny thread that wove him together so intrinsically to the little dark beings, and yet he could feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing through the shadow that had left with Eris. He pulled as forcefully on the little wisp as he could, demanding it yield to his call, to return to him but still the shadow remained giving no indication of even having heard his demand. 

Just before Azriel had completely given up on getting the little shadow back flashes of colors, honey amber, blood red, pale white, glowing gold, rushed behind Azriel’s closed lids.. Slowly the colors sorted and shifted themself into an image. 

A room with warm brown walls, sunlight streaming through a small circular window above a small washtub where the early morning sun caught the auburn strands of Eris’s hair and set them alight as the sun-kissed each strand that brushed gently against his freckled shoulders. The male was leaning against a short wooden cabinet with a cream washbasin atop it, amber eyes fixed to the mirror above the washbasin as he brought a wet cloth to his pale skin. It was only at that moment that Azriel realized that the male was completely bare from the waist up revealing much more of the male than Azriel had ever previously had the pleasure of viewing. 

Even before the bond had snapped, Azriel had easily acknowledged the fact that the male was striking by the standards of any fae, his face perfect proportions of sharp lines and gentle curves befitting of the gods. Beyond the male’s striking face, auburn hair, and pale hands Azriel had never truly seen the male as he was, either in his battle armor or more often the most insufferable and suffocating style Autumn offered of layers upon layers of finery. Cassian had joked on many occasions that half the reason the male must be so insufferable is that between the fire in his veins and the four or so layers of clothing, he must always be a breath away from combusting into an overheated ball of flame.

Thinking back to the previous night, Azriel isn’t sure how he had not taken note of it but that was the first time he had ever seen the male without any form of jacket or vest. He tried to recollect what exactly Eris had been wearing last night but all he could remember were those vacant amber eyes.

Shifting his thoughts back to the image his shadow was still sending down their link he watched as Eris brought the cloth to wash his neck. The heir tilted his head, extending the column of his throat making smooth steady strokes with the cloth wiping away the grime of the day. Eris moved the cloth down and over his shoulder curling around his bicep the movement was more stilted and his fingers jerked subtly before he gripped the cloth tightly. His posture straightened as he took a deep inhale and closed those stunning amber eyes. Auburn hair brushed along the nape of his neck as he shook his head upon exhaling. Azriel could not tell what caused the change in demeanor and was desperately trying to search for the cause of this obvious discomfort. It was then that Azriel noticed that the image of Eris he was seeing had been tampered with, censored in some way. Not every part of it, the only parts of the image that appeared to have any distortion was the pale naked skin of Eris’s torso and arms, the parts of Eris that were typically covered by various layers of clothing.

Azriel tried focusing on the skin of Eris’s chest as the male made careful small motions down his sternum. Initially, it looked as though he was simply looking at Eris’s bare skin but upon a closer look, he saw the slight blur, like trying to look through the hottest wave of heat in the desert, a shiny blur covering every inch of Eris’s chest and arms. As Eris moved Azriel could see tiny glimmers underneath the blur but it was always there and gone again before he could even register what he saw. His shadows had never once over five hundred years censored anything from him. The number of fucking sessions of Cassian and Nesta alone he had accidentally seen through them, and yet this is what they were choosing to keep from him. His cauldron damned mate and his shadows were treating him like a child. It’s not as though he hadn’t seen his fair share of male bodies both in training and in bedding, but somehow his shadows had deemed that this particular body was off limits.

Show me everything, he rumbled down the link. The image flickered and faded in and out momentarily before restoring once more but the image remained unchanged and his ability to clearly see his mate was still impeded. 

Show me! The command reverberated between himself and the wayward shadow, but the image remained the same. Azriel then tried sending another shadow down the link in hopes of getting a clear image from the second shadow but was met with the same result now neither shadow obeying his command to return.

 We cannot show you.

Why in the hels not Azriel ground out as his brows bunched, his eyes squeezed tight trying to maintain the connection to the shadows with Eris.

Because it is what our flame desires.

Unless he is the newly appointed shadowsinger then you should not give a dam what he desires.

He is no singer but he is ours just as you are ours master.

Azriel felt a cold feeling wash over him as he realized that this was not his shadow’s doing but Eris manipulating what he was seeing after all that blur around the male’s body was oddly reminiscent of a wave of heat. It was that thought that had Azriel jerking back from his connection with the shadow blinking against the harsh morning sunlight.

Eris was somehow manipulating his shadow’s images. How long had he been able to do that? He had taken a shadow and manipulated it into no longer obeying the call of Azriel’s commands.

Azriel’s head was swimming with too many thoughts, drowning in them. How in all that is blessed had he allowed himself to become so enraptured with that male last night? Eris had not even said a word and yet he had completely twisted and manipulated Azriel into feeling, not just feeling, but feeling something for Eris. How had Azriel so quickly forgotten what a pompous prick the Autumn prince was? five hundred years of distrust and hatred and Azriel let all of that go in one night. For what? A pretty face with false eyes.

Eyes do not lie master you know this.

Eris lies and that is all that matters.

In a huff, he tried to get his shadows to bring him back to the night court but they were either too expended from the ordeal or they simply did not want to leave Autumn. Azriel refused to believe it was the latter and began stretching his wings in preparation for the long flight home as he continued his walk down the rocky shore.

After a few minutes, he snapped his wings wide and shot into the sky, the Autumn breeze drifted around him filling him with the scent of cinnamon and dry leaves and a strong sense of calm washed over him as he flew high above the canopy of Autumn leaves. He had found even as a youngling that flying was one of the only ways to truly empty his mind of all the ceaseless thoughts and chatter, even his shadows did not murmur while he was flying unless they came across something urgent.

The flight back to the Night Court, though long, was not undesired as it gave Azriel some much-needed time to clear his head. As he saw the lights of Velaris coming into view the thoughts he had been able to stave off during his mindless flight back home came rushing back knocking the breath from his lungs in their intensity. He began to plummet mid-flight before snapping his wings back to right himself intending to continue his flight home but his mind continued to spiral from thought to thought analyzing every moment of the past several hours. 

After the fourth time of nearly crashing into the ground below his shadows must have finally taken pity on him and shadow walked him the remainder of the way to his apartment. As the shadows had previously been ignoring every attempt he had made throughout the flight to shadow walk Azriel was thrown a little off balance and rather than landing at the doorway as he usually did the shadows deposited him directly above the kitchen counter.

Cold marble counter stung his cheek and left wing which crumpled beneath him upon impact after being roughly ejected from the void of shadows. Azriel had the distinct feeling that he was being reprimanded by the little black wisps after ignoring their adamant rejection to leave Autumn earlier.

What the hels was that! Azriel growled at his shadows as he sat up on the edge of the counter, wrapping his hand over a particularly sore spot on the outer edge of his wing. Unfortunately, the shadows had once again returned to hiding below his armor and their silence reverberated down the link he held with them.

Taking a deep breath Azriel drug a hand over his face trying to wipe away the flurry of thoughts that relentlessly eddied through his mind.

Leave it to Eris Vanserra to so thoroughly mess with his head that he couldn’t even think straight. Even the pesky shadows weren’t listening to him anymore. This whole day was a mess.

Shit– he had been gone from Velaris for almost three days. Between spending the night paralyzed on that beach, wandering aimlessly through the Autumn forest for the better part of a day, and being forced to fly back after his shadows refused to take him, he had been gone far longer than he had ever anticipated. His absence must have gone unnoticed as he hadn’t felt Rhys trying to prod into his mind since he had been back in range of his daemati powers. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved that no one had noticed he had been gone or upset that no one had come looking for him.

Life had changed so much since his brothers had found mates, both of them so caught up in their own blissful mated happiness that they rarely, if ever, sought him out for anything unrelated to court business. Azriel tried so hard not to be resentful that his brothers were so happy but it was so damn hard. They got to live their wonderful lives full of love and joy and they were happy and loved without Azriel. Sure, Rhysand and Cassian were his brothers, but they didn’t need him anymore. They didn’t depend on him to be a steady constant in their life. They didn’t want him lurking in the shadows bringing his darkness into the light of their lives.

It wasn’t that his brothers were happy but rather that while they had been blessed by the mother with their mated pairing he on the other hand was cursed to a life of anger and resentment with his mate. The only future with his mate was lonely and potentially a slow spiral into madness— if he wasn’t already going mad.

He slid his feet to the floor and promptly tripped over a bottle of whiskey that must have been left from his last night of drunken oblivion before he had so recklessly ended up in Autumn. Catching himself with his hands as he fell he swiped the bottle from the floor and sat leaning against the cabinet. He brought the bottle to his lips in hopes of drowning his miseries once again, only to be met with an empty bottle with the lingering scent of spiced whiskey heavy enough that he could almost taste it on his tongue.

Spiced freaking whiskey.

“FUCK!”

His wings pulled in tight as the bottle shattered against the dining wall Azriel had thrown it against before the shadows could take it from his grasp.

Calm master. You must calm yourself.

I will do no such fucking thing!

Shards of glass crunched under his boots as he jumped to his feet and began pacing forcefully between the kitchen counter and the oak dining table. Shadows flew about the room trying to whisk away the shards of glass from underfoot.

“Fuck you and your busybody selves shadows! Fuck Autumn and its fire-filled fae. Fuck the fireling and his vicious snarky comments! Fuck his perfect princely face! Fuck his divine spiced whiskey scent! Fuck you Eris!”

With that last phrase, flashes of writhing bodies of pale and bronze skin flash across his mind. Scarred hands running through bright Auburn hair. Lithe pale fingers tracing dark lines of ink moving lower with each movement.

Azriel could feel his body responding to the tantalizing images running through his mind and as soon as he became aware of the arousal coursing through him immediately he felt as though he was doused in ice water, shame and disgust ran hot through his veins.

Gods, his family would hate him if they knew he had those sorts of thoughts about Eris. Cauldron fuck him if they ever found out that he was mated to that hateful prick. Mor would never speak to him again. Rhys would banish him. He would lose everyone he ever loved because of a stupid fucking prince of fire.

We will not lose all we love.

His vision began to dim and a heaviness weighed on his chest. Trembling scarred palms pressed into his eyes hard enough to bring stars to his vision. With shaking legs, Azriel began to make his way past the mess of the kitchen and dining room searching for a chair to sit in. Slowly making his way down across the floor, each step felt as though the entire weight of the Ramiel was on him.

At last, he made it the twenty or so steps to the living area, leaning against the empty fireplace before taking rapid steps wearing a small circle into the rug between the worn brown leather chair and the fireplace as ragged breaths passed through barely parted lips.

The fireling loves us.

Fucking. Busybodies. Azriel rasped out between pained breaths.

Breath singer. Breath.

Azriel ground his teeth, but knew he was fighting a losing battle and that they would not relent until he listened to them. He closed his eyes and began drawing deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

Waves of burning embers and spiced whiskey assaulted his senses, and his body instantly began relaxing as his body stilled its relentless pacing and moved to sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor. He was too relieved by the fact that he could finally feel the pressure around his chest releasing to care about the scents swirling around him. Continuing his deep breathing he found that the roiling tension bubbling just below his skin began to ebb away into just a whisper of irritation as the swirling thoughts of his mind came to a halt. 

Minutes or hours later the quiet of his mind and the peaceful thump of his heart were the only thoughts filling his mind. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the brightness of the faelights as shadows danced in his vision. Once his eyes fully adjusted he realized that the shadows were not dancing around him, instead it was a lone shadow writhing and squirming directly in front of his face, brushing gently against his nose and cheeks.

Suddenly, the source of the embers and spiced whiskey scent was abundantly clear as the shadow continued to move around his face he recognized it as being the second shadow he had sent to Eris earlier that morning to clear the image being sent by Eris's shadow. The pest must have finally come back but now it reeked of the Autumn heir.

He wanted to be upset with the shadow for resisting him earlier and now when it finally came back it was assaulting him with Eris’s scent.

His scent calms you.

He calms you.

He fucking annoys me. Too exhausted for there to be any real bite behind his words Azriel simply brought his knees to his chest and let the scent wash over him.

Damn that stupid shadow but the scent did calm him. Before long his eyelids grew heavy and the past few days of sleeplessness crashed over him.

Azriel attempted to stand to make his way to his room but found his legs were heavy as lead, whether from physical or emotional exhaustion he wasn’t sure. The shadows finally having some sympathy towards their master whisked him away and soundlessly rested him atop the cool sheets of his bed.

Not even taking the effort to get under the covers, Azriel rolled to his side and closed his eyes, promising himself that he would never again seek out the Autumn male who had so thoroughly messed with his mind. 

As he drifted off to sleep the memories of the past few days swirled hazily in his mind. Auburn hair dancing against pale skin. His shadow twining and playing in the heir's hand. The mystery of the censored image from his shadow. Vacant eyes, lifeless and dull, staring right at him and yet seeing right through him. 

Those vacant eyes haunted Azriel in his dreams.

*************************************

Four days later Azriel found himself folding into his shadows and moving across Prythian back to Autumn.

This time when he emerged from his shadows instead of the smell of the ocean and the silence of night greeting him the clang of metal against metal rang in his ears as the early morning light broke over the trees illuminating a clearing that was dotted with small tents, the canvas snapping in crisp autumn heir. 

Ensuring that his shadows were still wrapped around him concealing him from sight and scent he moved to the shadow of a large oak at the very edge of the clearing. From this vantage point, he could see the source of the noise was coming from a group of several armored fae who were working in pairs sparring. Eight separate pairs were sparring moving with practiced efficient ease. 

His eyes caught on one pair in particular who was on the very edge of the fray matching each other blow for blow in a match that looked very even but being a trainer himself he saw that the taller of the two males was clearly holding back while pushing into his opponent's weak points. The blows continued but at a slower pace, the taller male must have been communicating corrections in stance and movement as Azriel watched the shorter male make slight adjustments in his posture, regripping his weapon in a more balanced form. The pace of the match quickly picked back up and they continued exchanging blows until suddenly a loud horn was sounded and at that noise, the partners turned and switched opponents. This continued for some time with opponents changing every so often, new pairs trading with old ones as the dance between blades continued. All the while Azriel kept finding his attention being brought to the same tall male from the first match. In every match he moved with unmatched grace and ease, always meeting each blow from his opponent, all while moving in such a way that forced his opponent to work their weak spots, and each time he left his partner they would begin their next match with a vigor, intensity, and precision they previously had not exhibited. 

The trainer was very talented at his job, knowing exactly where to push and where to allow freedom with each warrior. He must be either a captain or commander with that level of skill, though he had no identifiers on his armor which looked to be the same style as all those in the camp, beaten and worn from many years of use. Azriel had the strong urge to figure out the identity of the male and sent his shadows forth to do just that, but precisely as his shadows were about to dart out to spy on him a new warrior entered the sparring area. This warrior was notably without a partner and walked confidently through the battling warriors until he stood directly across from the taller warrior whose partner had suddenly disappeared into the crowd of onlookers.

The new warrior was rather unusually built for Autumn fae, being more reflective of the bigger broader build of the Illyrians than the tall and lean build that was traditional of the Autumn Court. He was roughly the same height as the other male but the two could not have looked more different in stature, standing next to the other male and his elegant poised grace he looked rather out of place. 

Intrigued enough by the new pair, Azriel decided to take a risk and meld into the shadows of the tent nearest the sparring area in hopes of getting a better view of the match about to begin. As he settled into the shadows of the tent he saw the tall fae glance at the exact spot Azriel stood hidden in the shadows, it was barely more than a second before he had once again resumed watching his opponent ready himself. It was a movement so quick that it may have just been a fluke but Azriel double-checked that his shadows were still completely concealing him. Once he was satisfied that he was indeed hidden completely he looked back up to where the two were now circling one another as their match began. The larger warrior struck first but his blow glanced off the other male's sword in a practiced parry. The two appeared to be very evenly matched in skill and were significantly more trained and practiced than any of the previous pairings of warriors had been. The match between these two warriors was like the most intricate dance he had ever seen, as he watched each male move swiftly and gracefully, matching blow for blow. Each strike of the sword sang out like a resonating melody, strong and sure, beckoning you in to listen and to watch the pair. It reminded Azriel of Cassian and Nesta when they sparred, both built very differently, and with different strengths and weaknesses, but yet perfect complements of one another. 

The tall fae warrior was truly magnificent to watch. He moved with the beauty and grace of a dancer but the precision and strength of a skilled warrior. It was like watching battle become art before his very eyes.

As the match continued, the remaining pairs in the sparring area finished their respective matches and moved to the side in silent observation of the pair. Soon only the two males stood within the sparring area as they continued to ruthlessly attack and defend. 

After some time had passed, the original male moved so swiftly that Azriel was unable to catch his entire maneuver but somehow he had launched himself at the larger warrior, swiping his feet out from under him while also landing a harsh blow to the male's sword hand causing the hilt of the sword to slide from the larger warriors grasp as it clattered to the grass below.

The two were still as death for a moment, before the crowd on the sides broke into boisterous noise and warriors were cheering and slapping one another on the back. Azriel watched as money changed hands between various warriors among the group, clearly some sort of betting over the match had taken place. The tall warrior reached out his hand to aid the larger warrior to his feet before drawing the male to his side and clapping him on the shoulder as they both raised their hands in acknowledgment of the crowd.

As they turned towards the direction of Azriel’s hiding spot, the tall warrior seemed to glance ever so slightly to where Azriel was standing silent and still as death. Before Azriel had time to ponder further the tall male opened his mouth to speak and Azriel found his heart stuttering at the voice bellowing through the crowd.

“Despite me besting him terribly today, it appears as though your lieutenant general has been doing quite an adequate job in your training as each of you has improved greatly since my last visit. You bring great pride to Autumn in your service to her and I am proud to call each of you my comrades. Well done today lads I look forward to our next meeting!” Eris’s honey voice reverberated through every cell of Azriel’s body as he stood cloaked in shadows.

The group cheered as Eris and the warrior turned and began walking towards Azriel. For a moment Azriel was frightened that Eris had seen him earlier and was now about to come and pull him from the shadows and publicly humiliate him before sending him off in chains for trespassing on Autumn soil. But the pair walked right past Azriel, Eris’s hand gently brushing against the shadows as he walked by and the two entered the tent. Azriel only hesitated briefly before he allowed his shadows to engulf him and move him into one of the many darkened areas inside the tent.

“So glad my leading is adequate enough for you brother.” The warrior practically spat the word brother at Eris.

“You belittled me in front of my men and now I am supposed to be grateful for your approval of their progress.” Fiery rage simmered in the male's eyes as he lifted his helmet off, tossing it to the side as his long auburn curls swung wildly about, now free of the confines of the helmet.

Eris removed his helmet and laid it gently to the side revealing his shoulder-length auburn hair the same shade as the male before him. “Caradoc you must know I only said that in jest. You truly have done a wonderful job training all of these inexperienced boys the past few months.” 

Caradoc, Beron’s second son. Only having seen him a handful of times, Azriel was not surprised that he did not recognize him, although now with that information he could see how strongly the second eldest resembled his father.

“Fuck you Eris! Don’t fucking coddle me, I don't need your lies and condescension! You already fucking demoted me and moved me to the weakest and inexperienced group in Autumn and why would you do that other than to humiliate me!” That simmering rage in his eyes grew to a blaze. The fire Azriel saw in this male's eyes was nothing like what he had seen in Eris before. The fire burning in Eris’s eyes was an inferno waiting to be unleashed upon his enemies, whereas this male gaze charred and incinerated everything in its wake, a wildfire blazing hot and bright unrelenting in its destruction.

“Car.” Eris grabbed the other male by the shoulders and pulled him in until their foreheads were pressed tightly against one another.

They stood like that in silence for some time before Eris spoke gently into his brother's ear, barely loud enough for Azriel to make out.

“I am sorry, Car. It was not my intention for it to sound that way. I was truly trying to compliment you without playing favorites. We both know what would happen if Beron thought I was favoring you. I am being honest when I say that your group is doing very well, and they only do so because of your leadership. They have only been training for a little over a year and already they are on par with many of our other units if not surpassing some of the less skilled ones. There was a reason I placed you in charge of this new group, and it certainly was not to humiliate you. You are the best commander in all of Autumn's armies and these boys needed to be trained quickly and proficiently to fill the large gap in our troops from the war. I knew that there was no one better to accomplish that goal than you brother. That is why I moved you, not to humiliate you, but because I knew you would be better utilized here. I see you as a valuable and necessary resource for Autumn's armies.” Caradoc scoffed at that last statement.

“It is true brother. I would not lie to you, not here where there is no one's ears but our own. We spend enough time lying to and about one another outside of closed doors. If Beron wouldn’t have my head and yours for it I would go out there right now and sing your praise, but we both know I can't do that.” A heavy silence settled over the two.

Stepping back from his brother Caradoc nodded his head in assent. “One day Beron will be dead and I will expect many ballads of praise written for me.” A small smirk bloomed in the corner of his mouth as he spoke and it was so painfully like Eris that Azriel found himself closing his eyes against the unwanted thoughts.

Eris let out a breathy chuckle and Azriel opened his eyes and watched as his face pulled into a genuine smile. Azriel wasn’t sure he had ever seen the male truly smile before and though he was loath to admit it he didn't think he’d ever seen something so beautiful before. 

“I’ll take my leave, General,” Caradoc said, inclining his head towards his brother in deference.

Then it was just Eris and Azriel left in the tent. Though earlier Eris had seemed to at least somewhat notice Azriel’s presence he did not acknowledge the shadowsinger even now that they were alone. Maybe it was just a coincidence and Eris did not know he was there but as the time went on and Eris continued to work through a pile of papers on the small desk occasionally his eyes would dart up for only a second but they were always trained on the spot where Azriel stood shrouded in shadows.

As Eris continued working Azriel looked around fully taking in the space around him. For being General of the Autumn Court his accommodations were quite snug and very similar to what you would find in any common foot soldiers tent. The only exception was his tent was slightly larger to accommodate the small desk and two chairs where he must hold meetings. His tent was also private, unlike a soldier who would have at least two other tent mates to share with although Azriel supposed that made sense as you couldn’t very well share a tent and also handle confidential court information. The only items in the room were a small sleeping cot and a trunk that Azriel assumed was for his armor and clothing. All in all, his tent was surprisingly normal, even more understated than Cassian’s tent was as General of the Night Court.

Azriel had discovered many surprising things about the heir today and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this new information, or if he should do anything at all.

After Eris stepped out of the tent to eat lunch with the rest of the battalion, Azriel let his shadows pull him back to Velaris.

Despite the new information he possessed about the heir and the confusion he felt, as he lay down in his bed that night, Azriel again promised himself that he would avoid the Autumn heir unless absolutely necessary.

********************************

Two days later he found himself making another unnecessary trip to Autumn

********************************

As the weeks turned into months turned into years, Azriel found himself spending more and more time in Autumn. At first, it was just for a few minutes, then a few hours, and now he was spending entire days in Autumn. 

Originally, he had only come when he had time to spare, until he slowly began to leave his work and family early or arrive late to things, but now he was simply missing things entirely, only returning to the Night Court to uphold his various duties as spymaster. Early on in his travels to Autumn Azriel had the foresight to leave one of his shadows behind so should his brother search for his whereabouts with his daemati powers the shadow would project Azriel’s consciousness enough that Rysand would assume he was in Velaris. 

His family had yet to question his frequent absences. The most likely reason is that they did not even notice he was missing from the midst of their busy happy lives. The closest they had come was several weeks ago on Nyxs’s fourth birthday, he had missed half of the celebration, making an excuse that he got caught up in the Hewn City working. No one had said anything directly but Rhys had looked as though he had some thoughts that he simply wasn’t going to share. 

Since the whole Elain thing several years ago Rhys had been walking on eggshells around him, treating him as though the smallest thing might set him off. At the end of the day, his family knew that he was not going to talk about something until he was ready and that pushing him to do so would only cause him to sink into the shadow even further.

Today he was missing their Autumn Equinox celebration entirely and he honestly could not find it in himself to care. The need to be with his mate was too intense to ignore, even to spend the holiday celebrating with his family.

As usual, his shadows began jumping through space, pulling him to wherever Eris was so he could simply watch the heir go about his day. From meetings with Beron’s council, to visiting as general among the troops, to walks with his hounds, Azriel followed every step of the heir as closely as he dared.

The Autumn prince never seemed to notice his presence, or rather if he did he chose not to do anything about it. The prince would frequently shift his eyes to whatever shadowy corner Azriel was lurking in, his gaze seemingly burning right through the shadows but still, he said and did nothing to acknowledge the shadowsinger's presence.

Azriel could practically recite every Autumn law backwards, having sat in darkened corners through enough mindless debates about reforms and appeals of this law or that. Despite how monotonous and dull the meetings were, Azriel never found himself bored at these meetings, too entranced by how his mate artfully moved through the conversations, always pushing the conversation in the direction he needed but never so hard as to be noticed by others.

He observed as time went on that Eris very subtly pushed for more progressive laws in Autumn while blocking demands for the more traditional and barbaric of Autumn’s laws. No significant changes occurred, but enough was said and done by his mate that he had begun to wonder what Autumn would look like one day when he was High Lord and how different that would be from Beron.

Eris showed a care for the people of Autumn that was surprising to Azriel. He watched the heir stay awake late into the night to ensure he heard every fae’s reports and grievances when visiting towns and villages. In the war camps, his men adored and respected him. Likely because he often participated in camp life just as every soldier did, even taking rounds preparing meals and cleaning equipment.

In public with anyone in higher society or any member of the Forest House, he was the vicious heir of Autumn, quick with a cutting word or remark but Azriel now saw how even under scrutinous eyes he moved in the shadows to build up his court. He had laughed with the lord of an estate when one of his servants came to beg for an extension on their taxes because her husband had hurt his legs irreparably in an accident. The lord had turned her away without a second glance waving her off carelessly. That evening he had watched as Eris rode out to the female’s house and knocked on the door. The poor thing looked as though she was going to faint at the sight of him but luckily she gathered her wits enough to take the small bag of coins he offered that was more than enough to cover the taxes they owed as well as a tonic to aid the man’s pain.

Watching Eris in the quiet private moments always left Azriel feeling off balance. When he walked his hounds through the woods and would up rolling the leaves with them more often than not. He would sit at his desk late into the evenings and early mornings working tirelessly, often fell asleep at his desk before moving to his bed. The most surprising observation Azriel had made was that Eris had a special affection for younglings never hesitated to kneel down at their level speaking to them as if they were his peers. He  always carried chocolate or some kind of sweet with him in the pocket between worlds, and not because this mate had an insatiable sweet tooth, but because whenever he ran into younglings he would always have small treat for little reaching fingers.

He certainly was seeing a very different side to the heir and recently he found himself questioning everything he’d ever felt towards him.

Nothing made him question his view of the male more than when he was able to watch the heir interact privately with his brothers. Azriel had always assumed they were simply obstacles in the way of the throne which is why Eris had asked for Rhysand to support his bid for the throne. Instead of hateful and dangerous relationships he expected he saw that Eris was often a source of wisdom and comfort to his brothers. The brothers did not often have private moments but when they did it was impossible not to see that each of his brothers loved and respected him. He also saw the weight his mate carried for his brothers, doing everything in his power that he could for his brothers, even neglecting other duties for them at times.

The warring image of Eris in public vs the Eris he had come to know in private weighed greatly on his mind. He could not puzzle out why Eris insisted on the facade when he clearly cared so deeply for his land and people and why he would not allow everyone to see him that way.

The only explanation he could come up with was Beron. For some reason, his shadows would not allow him anywhere near Beron. After his shadows refused to elaborate on their reasonings he came to assume that Beron either possessed some sort of spell preventing his shadows from nearing or the more likely option, that he had more advanced detection spells and would have been able to sense his presence despite the shadows.

As soon as Beron would enter a room his shadows would whisk him back to the Night Court without so much as a whisper.

The shadows were not entirely sentient and should he truly desire Azriel could command them against their natural pull but it expended a significant amount of physical and mental energy to do so leaving him unable to move for hours at best days at worst. It was something Azriel had only done a handful of times in his life before he had decided it was best to simply move in tandem with his shadows instead of fighting against their instincts. So Azriel allowed the shadows their tiny bit of freedom in protecting him from Beron and never pushed against them as they pulled him back to the Night Court time after time.

Occasionally as he had attempted to make his way to Autumn his shadows had hissed and fought against him simply saying that he could not be there but giving no explanation. One of these occasions lasted for over five weeks, and finally fed up with the tiny beings and the ache in his chest making it impossible to breathe, he decided to fly to Autumn instead of shadow walking as he normally did. Only to be dragged back to his room as soon as he had launched himself off the balcony.

The shadows never gave him their reasons for their refusals and after several circular arguments with them, he gave up on questioning them entirely and resigned himself to simply following their lead when it came to his time in Autumn.

So when Beron winnowed in without warning and with a killing rage on his face to the clearing where Eris was supervising the preparations for the celebration for tonight his shadows began to pull desperately at Azriel but he pulled back against the dark little wisps.

He had barely even caught a glimpse of Beron in any of his previous trips to Autumn but seeing the male before him radiating power and rage as he made his way towards Eris had a protective instinct bristling in Azriel, momentarily overpowering the pull of his shadows. 

“What did you do boy!” Beron was now only feet from Eris, spittle flying as he yelled at his son.

Servants continued to bustle about, heads bowed and quickly moving out of the way of the raging High Lord. To Eris’s credit, he did not balk as his father came to a halt, mere inches between the pair. The putrid stench of rage and hatred coated the air heavy and thick.

Bowing at the waist Eris did not meet his father's eyes as he replied. “My Lord I am not certain of what you are speaking. If you would be willing to elaborate I would be happy to resolve whatever issues may have ar—

Before Eris could finish his sentence Beron’s hand whipped out and tugged Eris's face harshly up till their eyes met. Even from several feet away, Azriel could see that Beron was gripping his son's face hard enough to bruise, possibly even break something. Eris did not so much as blink at the sudden movement or pain that was surely radiating from underneath the High Lord’s hand.

Azriel’s siphons began to glow hot and bright. His shadows gave a harsh tug causing the world to blur around the edges as he began to shadow walk but Azriel knew then that he could not leave now, no matter how much his shadows pulled and yanked back on that tether. Azriel kept his focus on remaining grounded here, in the Autumn Court, fighting with every fiber of his being against the call of the shadows on his skin, straining with every ounce left of his concentration to focus on the pair before him.

“The magic boy. Why is the magic different?”

Eris’s face briefly flickered with surprise but quickly fell back into a mask of cool indifference.

“I am afraid I do not know what you are talking-” His words were cut off with a sharp slap to the face as the sound rang throughout the clearing. Eris remained bowing at the waist, seemingly unbothered by the rage being exhibited by his father.

“You insolent boy. You know what is wrong with the magic I know you do.” An ugly sneer made its way across Beron’s face as he glared down at his eldest son. 

“If by chance you are telling the truth you have until the hour before sundown to find out what exactly the meaning of this is. Meet me downstairs when you have my answers.” As Beron finished speaking he shoved Eris harshly to the ground where the heir remained crumpled on the ground until Beron winnowed away.

He looked back to where Eris had been sprawled on the grass to find the male was now standing, looking as unruffled as ever, not a single mark from the interaction with his father to be seen. Those amber eyes blazed with fire as they stared directly into his own eyes and he felt the fire in Eris burn through his cold layers until even the icy monster deep within was lulled by the comforting warmth.

A servant approached Eris asking about pyre placements, and as the heir turned towards the servant their dance of shadow and flame between the two stopped abruptly Azriel found himself chilled to the bone and heavy with weariness. Whether it was from the lack of Eris’s warmth or the battle with his shadows from earlier finally catching up to him. He found himself stumbling through the shadows until he landed on a soft emerald chair, but before he had any time to process where he was his exhaustion won out and the shadowsinger found himself lulled to sleep, the scent of embers and spiced whiskey tickling his nose.

*************************

He awoke with a start jumping to his feet as his eyes adjusted to the room around him. He recognized immediately that he was in Eris’s chambers, although why his shadows had brought him here of all places to sleep off his exhaustion from arguing with them he was not sure. They skittered around the room anxiously as though waiting for something, or someone, but said nothing. The last rays of sunlight streamed through the window and if the ruckus from outside was any indication, the festivities were just beginning.

It was the then that he remembered why he had even fought against the shadows in the first place. Breon’s treatment of Eris left a gnawing pit in Azriel‘s stomach. Eris did not even react to Beron’s outlash earlier in the day in fact, he treated it with such normality and indifference, that it was baffling. Azriel was finding it impossible to latch onto a single thought, as every interaction and observation that Azriel had ever had with the male was flipped on its head. 

He had known for quite some time that Eris was not the male that he outwardly portrayed to everyone. He had never admitted it to himself, but there were times when watching Eris he had found himself admiring the male and how he embraced the Land and its people, how he moved and breathed as though his very blood was made od the winds and streams of Autumn. Azriel had always viewed the male as cold and calculating, willing to do anything for power but through the years as he was able to see a more personal side of Eris, he saw that behind the mask of the heir of fire was a male who cared and loved deeply and deserved to be cared for and loved deeply in return.

Before he was able to further analyze his spiraling thoughts the door leading out to the main hall opened with a bang. The shadows, rushed to Azriel hiding him from sight once more. The smell hit him before he was able to see who was entering. The iron tinge of blood filled the air as two of Beron’s guards walked into the room dragging someone in behind them.

Tossing the fae to the floor with less care than a pile of trash and briskly turned and walked away, the door locking behind them.

The fae on the ground was lying with their back to Azriel, their back which was covered in various marks and burns, blood soaked through the tattered remains of their shirt and pooled on the ground below. A sickening feeling washed over Azriel and he had to fight bile from rising. He went to move around to the front of the fae to get a better look when a slight glimmer of gold at the top of a pointed ear caught his eyes as it caught in the fading sunlight. 

It was at that moment that Azriel felt the entire world drop from under his feet as he continued to move towards the fae, already knowing what awaited him. He found himself praying to the mother, the cauldron, to any deity that would listen to him that he was wrong. As he walked around to the front of the fae and knelt on the floor, he brushed the bloodied auburn hair back from his face, and there lying before him was Eris. His skin was ashen and his breaths ragged, as his thin golden cuff of maple leaves glinted at the tip of his ear where he always wore it, his small shadow twirling around it worriedly.

Staring into the prince's face Azriel filled with rage and hatred so deep it could have swallowed him whole. It would have, had he not been entirely focused on one thing. Killing Beron. For as soon as he saw the blood pooling around the heir the unsolvable riddle of Eris Vanserra clicked into place and one fact was glaring obvious above the rest. Beron Vanserra had done this to Eris, to his son. Whether by his command or his own hand, he had harmed his son. 

The shadowsinger’s hand moved swiftly to the hilt of Truth-Teller as he made to find the High Lord and tear him to pieces but his shadows moved faster and grabbed the blade, moving it to the space between worlds.

He growled in frustration at them as his hand slipped over a now empty sheath.

You must do nothing.

Like fuck I will do nothing.

Our fireling needs us.

The High Lord’s days are numbered. His time will come, but if we do not help the heir his time will come first.

Azriel paused in his tracks at those words glancing back at the male before him.

Help him.

His hands reached for Eris before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. Scarred hands found pale bloodied skin as he turned Eris over gently cradling him against his torso as blood began to soak through his leathers.

His body stilled as he realized what he was about to do. Help him. Was he truly about the help Eris of all people?

Never once had he tried to understand differences in Eris’s public and private life, denying every fact that he saw with his own eyes. He had seen as Eris again and again proved he was a better male, a good male, a kind male, a loving male and yet he willfully ignored it in favor of allowing a centuries old hatred to blind him to what what right in front of him. It didn’t matter what kind of male he may have been in the past because Azriel knew the kind of male he was now.

His mind flashed back to the High Lord’s meeting and how incredibly naïve and short sighted he had been. He had not even let the bond fully click into place, had not let Eris say a single word before he had rejected him in a flurry of passion and hatred. The pain and sorrow he had seen in Eris’s eyes in that moment should have been enough to get him to stop, but he didn’t stop, he continued to hate the male for years even when he had not given him a single good reason to. He looked down at the broken male in his arms, blood covering his amber hair so you could no longer see where one began and the other ended. He pushed aside any small doubts and questions that were threatening to surface, because when he looked down at that face now marred with Beron's hatred he knew in his heart that he had been wrong about Eris all along.

And for the first time in his life, he admitted to himself that he didn’t hate Eris, he hated how much he didn’t hate Eris, but most of all he hated himself because he was too afraid of the truth.

Take us somewhere safe he commanded his shadows as he tucked his chin against Eris’s head breathing in his scent of embers and spiced whiskey, barely discernible above the putrid scent of blood and burnt flesh.

The last thing he remembered as the shadows began to swallow them into the darkness was the surfacing of a memory from many years ago when he had sat struggling to breathe with tiny shards of glass covering him as his shadows whispered to him.

“ The fireling loves us.”

The world faded to shadows.

Notes:

Caradoc: Welsh/Celtic origins meaning “beloved” the second eldest of the Vanserra brothers and boy oh boy does he have some issues and trauma I promise there’s a reason he’s kind of an asshat.

 

Also I have this silly little HC that Azriel is not frequent curser like Cassian but instead when the occasion arises he could cuss a sailor under the table.

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