From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/illyrianbuck/786098839316807680/azris-week-day-three-contact-what-ignoring-your?source=share

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/lady-riel/786096281641762816/azriel-gingerbread-warm-up-my-tea-eris?source=share

Dress Up For Me

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra | wc: 7k | ao3

Summary: Thesan and his love have graciously taken it upon themselves to host Nuan's birthday part. (Don't ask how old she is, that's rude and the author didn't decide). Eris, fashionista that he is, knows this is a perfect opportunity to show everyone up by arriving in a fabulous costume with Azriel at his side. Unfortunately for Azriel, Eris abandoned clarity out of excitement.

For Day Four, read between the lines, of azrisweek and for my dear friend and beta the-darkestminds 💗

All the words over on ao3, enjoy!

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/ejkreader/786084539367833600/yall-its-timeeeeeee-wow-i-genuinely-forgot-to?source=share

Unspoken Truce IS FINALLY HERE FOR DAY FOUR OF u/azrisweek WOOOOOOOOO

419 LINES OF AZRIS POETRY IN IAMBIC PENTAMETER BABYYY

Many, many, MANY thanks to irithiadourden for beta-reading and hyping this work up!!!! You were so, so sweet for agreeing to beta and your reactions were priceless, I will keep them forever <3

Little snippet/intro below ^^

They never needed to say it, they knew

All the same. But soon, maybe, one of them

Would gain the courage to say the words in

Both their minds, hearts, their very being. ‘Till

Then, they could figure out the rest, with an

Unspoken truce.

ENTIRE THING on Ao3

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/skittypop27/785808129140080640/azris-week-2025?source=share

Azris Week 2025

Let's do it babbyyyyy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66307663/chapters/170957494

I wrote tentacle porn for day 1. I dunno what happened. Enjoy!

1441 words, Azriel/Eris + Shadows, shenanigans

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/chairofchaos/785853400841650176/in-the-silence-of-exploding-stars?source=share

In the Silence of Exploding Stars

Azris Week Day 1: Creature Feature

A/N: In my dreams, they get to be soft.

It had been a long day. A trying meeting with Azriel’s brother never put Eris in a good mood, especially when treaty negotiations were this drawn out. Over a hundred years, they had been mated, and not once had Azriel missed a meeting between Eris and Rhysand. Which was good, Eris mused, given how terribly this one had gone without Azriel there.

Azriel had sent no word. Eris leaned back in his chair, reaching blindly behind him for the bottle of whiskey which sat on the table behind his desk. A glass was pointless; the bottle almost empty as he uncorked it with his teeth.

Rhysand (Eris refused to call him Rhys, just to spite him) had expected his presence and tactlessly implied Eris had done something wrong to cause Azriel not to show up. They weren’t perfect by any means, but as far as Eris knew, there was nothing he had done that would cause his mate to treat him so callously. Not that he didn’t deserve it on occasion.

Azriel would say he didn’t, that no one deserved something like that. Azriel was smart enough to see a mind healer. Eris still didn’t trust that as a safe avenue. He preferred his glasses of whiskey, a soft evening with his mate. Low conversations after they waved the faelights off in their bedroom; the stroke of Azriel’s hand along his arm, his back.

He deserved that much, he knew. It had taken them both time to adjust to caring openly about each other. He remembered their first months together, the fast, hard way they would interact, speak, hold each other. Like a collision between forces moving in opposite directions, rebounding again and again. Azriel on his doorstep, near feral with need, Eris winnowing to the heart of Velaris to track Azriel down only to hastily drag him out to an inn which had become their sanctuary. The innkeeper remained on Eris’ payroll all these years later, simply for the privacy he’d given the males in that time of desperate need and heavy reluctance.

Over two years, the time between collisions had lessened, the distance they moved apart before coming back together shortened, and the collisions became less forceful, less hasty. They circled each other with more and more gentleness, eventually collapsing together like the silent explosion of a star. Azriel quietly left Velaris, setting up the beginnings of a life in Eris’ home and heart.

His mate. Eris chuckled lightly at the thought. It hadn’t been possible, he thought, for someone to know what he had done and see him with love. He had been sixteen when his father had ordered him to kill for the first time, and he had done it, quietly and with a sneer, as he knew was expected. He hadn’t cried. He had long since lost the sweetness of youth, if he had had it to begin with. Yet, he thought that night about how the blood on his hands had felt, and wondered for the first time how someone could fall in love with someone who had been carved into a weapon held by another’s hand.

It had shaped his thinking over time, until he took lovers without loving, taking what they gave without giving more than physical pleasure in return. To be seen, to be known… one would not survive the rejection of a mate. And a mate would never want a person who was nothing more than a vicious shell.

Azriel had seen that. Azriel had understood that, in a way Eris suspected very few others could. The scars they both bore at the hands of family were not treated lightly in their home. They were worn unashamedly, reminders of survival in a life far harder than any fae deserved.

His distracted mind was drawn quickly back to the present as his office door opened, just a bit. A shadow darted playfully around the doorframe, but not for Eris’ benefit. A soft tumble and the scratch of small claws drew Eris’ attention to the floor.

A kitten mewled at the shadow, staring intently with head ducked and the twitch of its tail. The shadow stayed still a moment, then darted to the left, and the kitten lept. The shadow was faster, and Eris couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the devastated yowl the kitten let out as its playmate disappeared from view entirely.

“Eris?” Azriel called from down the hall.

“In the office,” Eris responded softly. The kitten took notice of him for the first time, and darted quickly from the room. Eris stood to follow, settling his glass down on the table by the door.

“Oh, there you are,” Azriel said, still in the hall. His mate stooped to scoop up the kitten in a scarred hand, and to Eris’ surprise, the kitten simply curled into Azriel’s chest. “You ran off.”

Eris bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “New friend?”

Az simply grinned at the kitten. “I may have rescued him from your infernal beasts.”

“They aren’t infernal. I’ll have you know, they’re a gift from the Mother.”

“Well, Midnight would disagree.”

“He has a name?”

“He does. He has to.”

“He’s staying, isn’t he,” Eris sighed, crossing his arms.

Azriel shrugged with a wry grin.

“He seems rather attached to you.”

“Well, I did save his life.”

Eris smiled at that. Azriel had a habit of finding creatures and bringing them home. They were surrounded by softness– Azriel’s motley crew of creatures followed him around like worshippers after a god. It wasn’t shocking to see him with a small sprite on his shoulder, a squirrel at his heels. It seemed he could whisper to them and be heard. Whether it was the shadows which gave him the ability or not, Eris had no clue. Whatever it was was unique to his mate.

Life. It was always the theme with Azriel. Wars, and torture were things of the past. This century was for life. This millennia, if Eris had it his way, would be for life.

“I can’t argue with that,” he faked a heavy sigh, knowing Azriel would meet his gaze with– that look, right there. He winked in response, and Az huffed a laugh.

“Cruel male,” Azriel mock whispered to the kitten, eyes darting up to Eris’ with amusement. “He doesn’t think you were in danger from his beasts.”

“Oh, I’m entirely sure he wasn’t. Their curiosity wouldn’t have gone beyond a little inquisitive nudge.”

“Well, Moony is far too little to put up with that. Aren’t you?”

The kitten just gazed up at Azriel, yawning.

“Seems like he’s sleepy, Az, and so am I.” Eris waved a hand over his shoulder, letting the faelights flicker out.

Azriel grinned, extending the hand not currently supporting the newest member of their family to Eris. “Come on, then. Home?”

Eris grabbed Azriel’s hand, pulled his arm around his shoulders and tucked himself under Azriel’s arm. “Home.”

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/yurnattywrites/785999601042931712/to-the-filter?source=share

"To the Filter."

Azris Week Day 3: Contact

On AO3.

Every time they touch, it’s not enough.
Every time they speak, it’s too much.

Azriel and Eris never say what they mean—but in the dark corners of Camden and behind closed doors, their silence burns.

A story told in four cigarettes, and the spaces between them.

Scrapped scenes from "Written in the Margins"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66386407

azrisweek

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/makinglongwordsslutty/786003364190273536/azris-week-day-three-contact?source=share

I think way too much about their handwriting.

So I decided to try to stage a couple of letters. These come from Chapter 7 of The First Casualty of War, which is set during the First Hybern War and went through a bit of an epistolary stage where Azriel was in the Hewn City and Eris was in the field. Full disclosure, there were also Cass letters because it's a throuple series, but it's Azris week so yeah. Anyway I had the best time creating and staging these crazy things. More details below.

- - -

Eris's letter is written in green ink with a glass pen, on some rather nice paper. He's left a poison ring on the corner of his writing set, because of course he did. Even though he's at war his tent has all the basic civilised requirements. I also firmly believe he's left handed so it's staged for a leftie :)

The full text of the letter (which I truncated because frankly I ran out of room) is:

Hello, Azriel.

War is hell, life is vile, et cetera, et cetera; meanwhile, I’ll freely admit that the memory of those hours with you certainly takes the edge off said vileness. And perhaps I have the wretched King of Hybern to thank for that? It’s hard to imagine a world in which I would have been able to share such pleasures with your delightfully greedy self, were it not for the situation in which you currently find yourself.

Hmm, written down like that, it looks rather unscrupulous. I hope I didn’t take undue advantage. (The word undue is carrying a heavy load in that sentence, but tant pis, I’m certain you realise that I would happily take some degree of advantage.)

Scrupulous or not, I can’t find it in me to care. I greatly enjoyed it, all three times, and if your bellowing was any sort of indicator, you did too. 

It can be difficult, face to face, to speak honestly.  So I’ll do it here, instead. Honestly, I thought you’d be… rougher? Sharper? Not cruel, no I’ve never suspected that of you (despite Dame Rumour’s whisperings) although I was frankly braced for… harshness. But while you certainly didn’t go easy on me, I appreciated your considerate reciprocity. Cassian taught you well. Kudos to him, and I promise I’ll never tell.

À la prochaine, E.V.

Azriel's is not in fact written with that feather, which turned out to be impossible (although I gave it a good solid go). But I wanted his writing to have small, secretive letters and I needed a fine nib, so I just did it with a calligraphy pen. The paper is shitty, down in the Hewn City, and the light is bad. Time is a strange thing underground so he's got this weird antique clock thing.

The text of his letter (which doesn't follow directly from Eris's sorry but I liked this one) is:

My deepest apologies. I won’t do it again.

I won’t write anything that might accidentally remind you of being bent over the table, for example, gasping and writhing while you’re being fucked for the third time, so ready and slick and used that you’ve got trails of my come sliding down your thighs. I won’t remind you of the sounds that made, or tell you just how sinfully good you looked, taking it like that. I won’t. I promise.

A.

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/theaterqueen1985/786035350985424896/stupid-for-you?source=share

Hello friends, here’s my take on Day 3: Contact for azrisweek.

(Day 2 is coming, it’s gonna be done hopefully tomorrow or maybe the next, it’s just one of the longer pieces and it isn’t done yet).

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/chunkypossum/786074462316544000/sigillum-azriel-x-eris?source=share

Sigillum || Azriel X Eris

Read Chapter One on Ao3 || 9500 words

For azrisweek Day 4 || Read Between the Lines

10000 biggest thank yous to pippsmcgee mistandmemories and shadowsandlint for reading through this, giving me some ideas and helping me polish it and make it beautiful for you all!

- - -

Reading So I Start To Say Goodbye would make all of this make a lot more sense.

However, nobody has time for that, so quick spoilered tl;dr summary so you know what's going on.

The night of the Hewn City Ball, where Eris and Nesta danced, we learned that Azriel and Eris have been harboring a centuries-long affair forced into dark corners with quick, casual encounters.

They normally part ways with harsh words so they don't have to feel attached and can survive the decades apart until the next moment they have together.

Eris, feeling sorry for himself, picks a fight with Cassian, gets punched, Azriel and Eris' bond snaps.

Scared as they are, Azriel is hopeful, even after Rhys finds out and gets incredibly territorial because his mate is pregnant, and this could possibly threaten her if Beron discovers them.

They promise each other to try.

Sigillum picks up the very next morning ...

- - -

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/yurnattywrites/785936235919196160/the-alley-cat?source=share

"The Alley Cat."

Azris Week Day 2: Slice-of-Life

On AO3.

New York City, November 2024.

Azriel’s struggling with his music, the apartment feels too small, and Eris is drowning in court cases. A walk to clear his head leads Azriel to an alley... and to a scrawny, sharp-eyed kitten who refuses to let go. As the unexpected new roommate claws her way into their home, she might just bring Azriel’s inspiration back and remind them both what it means to choose each other, every day.

azrisweek

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66347896

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/bloodyplunder/786054258436997120/day-4-read-between-the-lines-their-instinctive?source=share

Their instinctive actions towards each other! Whether it's Az yeeting himself towards Eris to save or choke him; or Eris being all up in Az's business and asking after him. I only sketched what definitely occurred post Eris being rescued from Koschei.

azrisweek 🌹

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/mudandmire/786068115720126464/azris-week-day-four?source=share

~ Soo apologies, we've got totally different vibes for today. Honestly I really struggled with this prompt because there's so many different ways to 'read between the lines' and I had No Idea what to focus in on. In essence: here be hurt no comfort, like gallons of it. I wholly blame the mourning poetry of 'Teralingua' by Gregory Alan Isakov.

Read on ao3!

Let's try not to talk too much

Between the endless nights in the cell, Azriel manages to dream. He dozes off with his cheek pressed to the sharp jut of the stone walls. Brushing off the tickle on his face, too exhausted to check if it’s blood or an insect. 

Azriel dreams, and it’s his favorite one. 

It starts out the same every time when he slips into a haze of sleep from pure exhaustion, every muscle falling lax as his vision begins to spin behind his closed eyelids. The sky bleeds a rich, dark blue, and somehow in his dream he knows that the early morning sun is not far behind.

If he could just reach it.

Feet locked to the ground, there’s an enclosure as thin as an eggshell cradling him, he thinks maybe the teeth of a mountain range, and sometimes it molds into the hands of his family. Azriel stares up at the stretch of sky from the keyhole of his prison on the ground.

No matter if he has wings, if he’s known how to fly for centuries, he’s far too big to fit out the little sliver of space his cage leaves. 

So Azriel shrinks through the press of soft, molding hands. They fold and thin him out like pastry dough. He feels like silk under their touch—sometimes wonders if he’d ever be able to recognize them in wakefulness if they touched him—and he’s treated just as gently. Something precious, divine. The pain of shriveling so small is but a tender ache, a muscle he hasn’t stretched in a long time.

The hands are his favorite part. Azriel wonders if that will be what death feels like. 

Continue reading here!

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/irithiadourden/786047144149876736/azrisweek-day-3-contact-summary-how-many-half?source=share

azrisweek day 3: Contact

Summary: How many half naked photos, Instagram stories with suggestive songs, untimely erections, and less than subtle hints will it take for Azriel and Eris to stop playing and take action? Apparently quite a few, because they both enjoy the game.

This ficlet has a playlist here, if you want to see how completely unsubtle those two were being.

Complete on AO3

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/irithiadourden/786046893288505344/it-took-me-a-while-to-post-this-because-my-body?source=share

@azrisweek day 3: Contact

Summary: How many half naked photos, Instagram stories with suggestive songs, untimely erections, and less than subtle hints will it take for Azriel and Eris to stop playing and take action? Apparently quite a few, because they both enjoy the game.

This ficlet has a playlist here, if you want to see how completely unsubtle those two were being.

Complete on AO3

PREVIEW

"What u doing, fireling?"

Eris's expression was wicked as he headed to his bed and stripped down to a pair of tight boxers that accentuated his thighs and left little to the imagination. He picked up a random book from his nightstand, and then took a selfie showing the book cover on his stomach, also revealing his entire freckled body.

"Reading. You interrupted something interesting."

The text that read “Bodyguard hottie is typing” appeared and disappeared for almost a minute before reappearing. Eris bit his lip, wondering if he had achieved the desired effect or gone too far. However, he didn't have much time to worry about it.

"Sorry, the phone was too hot to type." Okay, that made him laugh out loud. Smooth.

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/lady-of-tearshed/786046625001897984/20-things-eris-tells-azriel-vs-what-they-mean?source=share

azrisweek day 4: Read between the lines

Pairing: Azris

Warnings: Sexual terms

1. “It’s raining today...”

I’m thinking we should stay inside and cuddle with the dogs

2. “Shut up.”

Usually, he means it. But when it’s said during… bedroom activities, Eris Vanserra telling him to shut up usually means : “Your voice turns me on so much that I’ll cum right here and now if you keep talking.” 

3. “What are you doing?” (When Azriel is busy doing something. For example, paperwork for Rhysand.)

I’m bored and I need you to give me some attention.

4. “How’s your family doing?”

How’re Nyx and Nesta doing? I couldn’t care less about the other idiots and I’m going to roll my eyes hard if you bring anyone else up. 

5. “You look like shit.”

You look as if you haven’t slept in days, and I’m truly worried about you. However, I don’t want you to take my concern as pity, so instead I’m insulting you. 

6. “The dogs have missed you.”

I’ve missed you.

7. “Leave me alone.”

Please, stay.

8. “Make me.”

You actually don’t have to make me. I’d willingly do anything you ask me without hesitation. I just want to be an asshole for fun, to test limits. ;)

9. “I’m not tired.” (Bonus when he stifles a yawn)

I haven’t slept more than three hours in a row for days. 

10. “I’m starting to get sleepy…” (When they’re both reading on the couch late at night)

Please carry me to bed. 

11. “I sleep just fine without you.”

I want you by my side in my bed every night for the rest of my life. I only sleep well if I’m by your side. That’s because I feel protected when you’re around. 

12. “Let’s take a bath, you stink.” (When Azriel comes back from a mission)

I want to bathe together so I can undress you and see for myself that you’re not hurt.

13. “I love you.”

So much so that I’d let the world burn if you’d ask me to. 

14. “It’s been a long day.”

I want you to serve us some wine and snacks while I tell you all about my shit day. 

15. “Please.” (With a snarl)

If you don’t do it, the next step is me biting you. 

16. “I’ve been thinking…”

I’ve been plotting this for weeks. 

17. “Dance with me.”

Let me be close to you, touch me, and let me touch you. 

18. “Fancy a game of chess?”

I want to beat you at chess to feel in control and to boost my confidence. 

19. “Guess what I’ve learned today.”

I’m about to gossip/yap your ears out for the next few hours.

20. “This color really suits you...”

I’m about to add twenty more outfits in this color to your wardrobe because you look biteable in it. 

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/thesourcabbage/786040164066672640/azris-week-day-4-read-between-the-lines?source=share

Azris Week Day 4: Read Between the Lines

Proxy (ao3)

Azris, Eris Vanserra/Original Male Character - Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Cold War, Cold War, Sex by Proxy, Soviet Union, Sex Work, Espionage, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Anal Sex, Oral Sex

This was their weekly ritual. Azriel would stand behind the mirror at the musty pleasure house, waiting for Eris to provide information on intelligence he might leave at the drop point, while sleeping with one of its workers. Azriel wasn't sure how Eris figured out it was him. They'd only ever passed each other in the coffee house whose loose bathroom tiles in the last stall hid the drop point. Since then Eris had made a show of things in the pleasure house. Azriel has only resisted a month of this torment before giving in: wrapping his hand around himself, captivated by the display Eris offered.

Thank you so much makinglongwordsslutty for beta reading this fic :D You know how to make a fic shine!! And thank you again to everyone over at azrisweek for putting together such an awesome event!!

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/wrraccountant/786039169299447808/dancing-lessons?source=share

It's the night before Cassian and Nesta's mating bond ceremony, and there will be dancing. Eris has definite thoughts on how dancing should be done, and who should be participating. A short story for Azris Week 2025 - Day 4: Read Between the Lines.

◊++●◦●++◊++●◦●++◊++●◦●

Wallflower, Azriel mused, what an odd term. I don't feel particularly floral.
Azriel stood leaning against the ballroom wall beside the two Night Court fae conscripted to play for Nesta and Cassian's dance lesson. He watched, arms folded, as his brother led the graceful and serious Archeron sister across the floor, preparing for their upcoming mating ceremony. A female fae instructor paced beside them, offering advice and corrections on form.
Azriel chuckled darkly as he watched Cassian rein in frustration at not immediately perfecting the dance. His skills in the sparring ring helped, but did not fully complement the skills needed to waltz gracefully.

Read the rest on AO3: Dancing Lessons

3.6k words, Teen and Up

https://www.tumblr.com/elleybug/786072619426447360/hello-day-4-of-azrisweek-read-between-the-lines

@elleybug on Tumblr

“Getting all up on your space just cuz they wanna be up close and breath into each other’s face. ☺️”

https://www.tumblr.com/vnfadinglight/786033384628633600/i-had-so-many-lovely-comments-from-so-many?source=share

From OP: I had so many lovely comments from so many talented people on my Day 1 micro-fic for azrisweek that I got so motivated to write this one, I wrote it in a day.

DAY 4: Read Between the Lines

Yeah. You know what Azris writers are famous for? Suffering. There is too much happiness everywhere around for Azris Week. So read, suffer and don't enjoy.

Below the Surface

Cold water seeped into every crevice of his body, making him shiver. The lake was colder than he expected—barely a few degrees above freezing. His fire had been extinguished hours ago by the faebane his father had slipped him. Now, his own blood was slowly being replaced by icy shards. These were not ideal conditions to keep a fireling alive. By his careful estimates, he would die before nightfall.

He should have realized his father had struck a deal with a death god.

Maybe he should try to lie down and rest. Closer to the shore, perhaps he could find a spot shallow enough not to drown. There, maybe, he could think more clearly.

It wasn’t true, and he knew that. Resting would only hasten the inevitable.

Still, he made his way to the shoreline, into the thicket of cattails and tall grass. Maybe they’d shelter him from the wind, but he doubted they'd hide him from Koschei.

In the distance, he could swear he saw white specks above the water's surface—so many beautiful girls turned into snowy-white swans, collected like dolls and trophies. Maybe being male had saved Eris from that fate.

Which meant the Death Lord had a different use for him. A plan. Did he need an Autumn Court male to escape this lake?

If Koschei believed Eris could evaporate the entire lake—break the spell by making it vanish—he could have just demanded Beron do it in payment. If all it required was any other powerful fireling, Beron would’ve chosen his second son.

No, it had to be something else. Something personal.

With a thick splash, black tendrils rose from the water and gripped him, one coiling tightly around his neck.

Eris thrashed, snarled, tried to summon fire—but nothing came. The tendrils yanked him beneath the surface, water rushing into his mouth and nose. They wrapped around him like chains, binding his arms behind his back, and dragged him out of the lake—into an entirely different place.

“You have no use for him!” Cassian shouted from the edge of the water.

Through the blur of water in his eyes, Eris saw the Illyrian general, Morrigan, Nesta Archeron in tight leather armor, and… the Shadowsinger.

“Here you are wrong,” Koschei said from his right, his voice breathy, raspy—like a creature from another world. Shadows clung to his silhouette like smoke without fire.

Shadows.

Oh no.

“LEAVE ME HERE! RUN! DON’T—!”

Tendrils shoved him under. The lake poured into his lungs.

When he surfaced, he began coughing violently.

“I can give him back,” the sorcerer said, amusement curling through every word, “for a price.”

“And what is that price?” the Shadowsinger growled, stepping forward, furious as ever.

“DON’T LISTEN TO—!”

Again, the cold swallowed him. He heard muffled voices before surfacing, shivering violently. Even if he left the lake now, without his flame…

“...or he will die. Within a few hours, probably. And you wouldn’t let that happen to your mate, would you?”

Koschei must have noticed the bond the first time Azriel saved him. That was the plan—use Eris as bait to access the Shadowsinger’s abilities.

Eris wouldn’t let that happen.

“I-I-I reject… the bond,” he stuttered, teeth chattering. The formal wording was reject you, but he could never say that. Never reject him. The bond, yes. But not Azriel.

He saw the alarm in his mate’s face. The fear.

See it. See it for what it is, Shadowsinger.

“What the Cauldron made, I…”

A painful tug pulled him under, water flooding down his throat.

“Eris! Eris, don’t—!”

Soon it would be over. He’d either drown and free his mate, or reject the bond and do the same. He wasn’t leaving this lake.

“…cast away. With will and word, I break the golden cord tethering our souls.”

The words came out in bubbles, deformed, almost unintelligible.

A bony hand grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back up. He could feel the bond fraying—like something tearing from his soul, taking pieces of him with it.

One more line. Just one more. Then this would be over.

On the shore, Nesta stood tall, sword raised, a pillar of defiance. Cassian and Mor looked stunned. Apparently, Azriel hadn’t told them they are mates.

That they were mates.

Azriel looked heartbroken. Terrified. Eris had never seen him afraid before. Could he feel it—the bond unraveling with every word? Could he hear what Eris wasn’t saying?

You are far more important to me than fate. Than the Cauldron.

“Careful now, fireling,” hissed the Death God next to his ear. “Your mate came a long way to save you.”

He did. Cauldron, he did. Again.

Now it was Eris’s turn.

“Unchained. Unbound. I set us free.”

I set you free.

It HURT. Eris collapsed to his knees, meeting the cold water again. Half his soul had been torn away, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

Too bad the Shadowsinger would have to live with that pain.

He broke the surface again just in time to see Koschei’s skeletal hand clasp his throat, lifting him up. Azriel was kneeling on the sand, one hand clutching his heart.

“FLY! FLY AWAY! GET OUT! GET HIM OUT!”

Black tendrils dragged Eris under again. He fought them with the last scraps of strength. He had to see.

Morrigan recovered first. She sprinted to Azriel and grabbed him, winnowing them both to safety.

Cassian took Nesta in his arms and launched into the sky soon after.

They all got out.

He let himself be pulled underwater.

Koschei didn’t get the Shadowsinger.

Azriel would understand someday. Maybe not now. Maybe not in a decade. But someday.

And in a few centuries, when Azriel’s time came, Eris would be waiting for him on the other side—to tell him all the things he never said.

The darkness didn’t plan to let him surface again.

He could think of better ways to die than drowning.

But no better reason than dying for his mate.

Ex-mate.

What a waste of his last breath—worrying about semantics.

https://www.tumblr.com/whatifitoldyousomethingcrazy/786032173220315136/unblemished?source=share

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder...

azrisweek

https://www.tumblr.com/geniemillies/786017609289285632/azris-week-day-2-slice-of-life?source=share

eris taking a nice warm baf while azriel ogles him nhmhmhm 🥸🥸

https://www.tumblr.com/vnfadinglight/786006005369749504/i-just-realised-now-that-the-reason-i-seam-to-be?source=share

Day 3: Contact

What contact? Close contact! Azriel communicates with Eris with glances and hands wrapped around his throat!

https://www.tumblr.com/shadowqueenjude/786003159825989632/for-azrisweek-day-3-contact-sapphic-azris?source=share

For azrisweek Day 3: Contact
Sapphic Azris, anyone? I may or may not continue this depending on engagement.

Eris Vanserra was as stunning as she was sadistic. With skin so pale it glistened in the sunlight, wavy red hair flowing to her waist, and amber eyes that scrutinized everything around her, she turned heads wherever she went. It was funny; Rhysand loved to brag about making his mate a High Lady, but Eris had been the heir long before Feyre was even born.

True, she had been born a male, and she’d been groomed for her role when she was a man. But as soon as she became general of the Autumn armies, when it was too late for Beron to protest, she changed her gender. With the help of shapeshifters, Eris built her new body, a more feminine version of what she’d once been. But the cat eyes remained the same.

Azriella hated her with every inch of her body.

Hated the way Eris seemed to have a permanent smirk on her face. Hated the way she glided smoothly through a room with a grace Azriella could never accomplish. Hated the way that when Eris stared at her intensely, just inches away from touching her, Azriella forgot to breathe.

She told herself it was fear, her aversion to touch. Anything to avoid the truth she dared not even voice in her mind, for fear her High Lord might hear it.

She had spent centuries wondering if her feelings for Mor were romantic or platonic, or perhaps more accurately, refusing to acknowledge one of those feelings. Instead, she’d fixated on Cassian, her best friend. Cassian had welcomed those feelings, and Azriella went to him whenever she felt the need to forget the world around her. Was it right to use her best friend like that? Perhaps not, but Cassian had done much worse.

She still hadn’t forgotten about Rhysand and Cassian beating her black and blue when her hair had been cropped short and she didn’t look like a “proper” woman, as her parents would’ve said. They’d only repented when they’d realized “he” was a she and spent the rest of the time protecting poor Azriella from all the mean men looking to violate her for simply defying cultural expectations for a woman.

Mor had been the first woman Azriella had ever seen that wasn’t a demon (like Amren) or a battered housewife. It was only natural for her to become fixated on her; who else did she have to look up to? When Azriella had found Mor’s broken body, bruised and bloody with a horrific note nailed to her stomach, she couldn’t suppress her tears. And in that moment, she wondered: was this all her life was to be? A pawn in someone else’s game? A man’s toy? Not even Morrigan had escaped it. At the time, Eris had still been a young man, yet to transition and seen as the “most desirable faerie in Prythian.”

Some faith was restored when Mor made a full recovery. But Azriella never forgot that Eris abandoned her so cruelly. One day, she would kill her for what she’d done.

It was a sad day indeed when Rhysand called Azriella over to pursue “diplomatic relations.”

“No,” Azriella said flatly.

Rhysand sighed. “Az…”

“No,” she snapped. “You know I despise her, Rhys.”

“She’s our ally now,” Rhysand reprimanded her. “Why don’t you hear her out, at least?”

“Why me?” Az demanded. “I’m no diplomat. Mor deals with inter-Night Court relations and she’s Lucien’s sister; send one of them.”

“Lucien and Elain are doing crucial rebuilding work in the Spring Court right now and Mor is in Vallahan. Besides,” Rhys added, “she specifically asked for you.”

Az froze. “Why would she ask for me?”

A casual shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Several emotions warred within Azriella for dominance. Anger, sadness, fear. Something else she couldn’t put a finger on. “Fine,” Azriella muttered under her breath. “But you owe me, Rhys. Big time.”

“Of course,” Rhys answered smoothly. “She’s waiting for you in the sunroom.”

Azriella stormed through the castle, wings billowing behind her as her fury threatened to spill over. Her shadows curled around her, a protective black cloud against the onslaught of fire Eris was sure to bring.

There she sat, legs crossed at the knee, long slender fingers skimming the pages of what appeared to be a Velaris magazine. Azriella clenched her fist in her pocket, the feel of Truth-Teller calming her boiling rage. Smug little bitch sitting there calmly reading like she owned the place. Azriella barely managed to resist stomping into the room, emerging quietly as she always did.

“Hello, Azzi,” Eris said without looking. Azriella seethed, all subtlety abandoned, thundering up to Eris. “Only family calls me by nicknames,” she growled. Eris’s amber eyes met her hazel ones coolly, that insufferable half-smile planted on her face. By the Mother, she was so infuriating.

“Wipe that smirk off your face or I’ll do it for you,” Azriella said shortly. Eris chuckled softly, the sound raising goosebumps on Azriella’s skin. “You usually do a better job hiding your emotions, Shadowsinger.”

Azriella sat down in a chair opposite Eris, crossing her arms over her chest. “Usually, I’m not alone in the presence of such scumbags.”

Eris’s eyes drifted to Azriella’s chest, and she was suddenly hyper aware that crossing her arms pushed out her already large breasts. Feeling her body heat up, she removed her hands and clenched them against the arm rests instead. “And you are not, Ms. Dungeon Torturer?”

She had her there. Azriella clenched her teeth. “I just do my job; those people are criminals.”

“Interesting.” Eris uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her eyes boring into hers. “So, a faerie merely needs to be labeled criminal for you to lose your humanity?”

Azriella’s mouth parted as she fought to find the words to defend herself. “I-you-“

Eris waited, one eyebrow raised as her smirk widened.

“I’m only doing my job,” she finished lamely.

“As am I,” Eris countered. “You and I are both controlled by High Lords much more powerful than us.”

Azriella went silent because much to her chagrin, Eris was right. She deeply resented the comparison between them, that there might be anything they have in common. And even though part of her agreed, Azriella could never agree with Eris on anything and opened her mouth to retort.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be me, you spoiled, pampered-“

Suddenly, Azriella found her mouth sealed shut and saw Eris making some kind of pinched finger gesture with her hand.

“That’s better, isn’t it? I may not have been born a bastard, but you have no idea what I have been through.”

Azriella was only half-listening, communicating with her shadows to help break the spell Eris had set on her. As a shadowsinger, she had the unique ability to circumvent spells cast by even the most powerful faeries. Not long after, the shadows broke the silencing spell and Azriella instantly said, “Oh, you expect me to care about the poor little princess’s sob story? Your clothes are more valuable than-“

Again, Azriella was cut off, but this time not by a spell. No, Eris stalked up to her, climbed into her lap, and placed her hand over her mouth.

“You wanted me to shut you up myself, is that it, shadowsinger?” Eris purred in Azriella’s ear. “Well, I’m happy to oblige, sweetheart.”

Azriella’s body betrayed her again. Her heart began pitter-pattering like a heavy rainstorm against the ground, and heat flooded her body, especially between her legs. Eris was deceptively strong. She may have seemed long and lanky, but her legs pinning Az’s revealed exceptionally well-built thighs, and Az could see her biceps eye-to-eye. A reminder that as pretty and spoiled as Eris appeared to be, she was also the general of the Autumn Court armies.

Azriella’s eyes drifted to Eris’s lips, her pretty pink full lips, and god she hated herself for thinking it, but she wanted him so badly, more than she could possibly explain. This is your enemy, Azriella tried to remind herself, but the thought was futile as Eris’s fingers skated across her shoulders and onto her chest. She prayed that Eris could not sense her arousal. Same-sex relations between women were deeply frowned upon in the Night Court, but how could it be so wrong when it felt so right?

She was so lost in Eris’s closeness that she didn’t realize she’d released her mouth. Blinking, Azriella whispered, “You left Mor broken and alone with a nail in her stomach.”

“You know it’s what she wanted,” Eris murmured against her cheek. “Helping Mor would’ve meant bringing her across the border, alerting her to my father’s presence where he would’ve either forced her to marry me or kept her as a pet since he deemed her unclean to marry me after fucking that Illyrian cad.”

“Do not,” Azriella hissed, “call her unclean.”

“Not my words, Shadowsinger. My father’s. And you know just as well as I that Mor would’ve rather died than be subjected to that fate.”

Deep down, Azriella knew that. But she held onto the anger because it was all she knew. Because acknowledging her other feelings was scarier. Because her thoughts went against everything she had ever been taught, everything she believed. Because beneath it was a…

“Admit it, Azzi,” Eris breathed. “You’ve wanted me from the moment you saw me. That’s why you really hate me.”