Speaking of forgiveness. (Part One)
Summary: A spike of fear down the mating bond has Azriel racing back to the Night Court, terrified by what he’ll find. Meanwhile, the Inner Circle grapples with the fallout of a severe case of mistaken identity.
Pairing: Azriel x Reader (she/her pronouns)
Warnings: canon typical violence, choking/strangulation, blood, mention of pregnancy
A/N: Huge thank you to the anon who requested this. This one got looong, so I’m breaking it up into at least two parts. The next bit is mostly written and just needs editing. As always, feedback, comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are deeply appreciated.
Rhysand had warned the Cassian that having a pregnant mate drove the protective instincts related to the bond through the roof and he hadn’t been joking. Ever since he first caught Nesta’s changed scent, he was on edge, constantly looking for potential threats or hazards. The hypervigilance didn’t let up when he slept either, causing him to startle awake at the slightest sound. In the early morning hours, before dawn began to break, Nesta moved in her sleep and knocked a pillow off of the bed, the soft thud stirring her mate. Cassian leapt out of bed, heart pounding as he gripped his knife and surveyed the room. When he realized there was no threat to be found, he carefully tucked the pillow back by his mate and slipped out of the room, deciding a sweep of the house was in order to calm his nerves. As he roamed the hallways, he caught sight of Azriel dressed in full fighting leathers, walking towards the balcony with intention. “Informant missed a check-in, I’m going to look into it,” he explained, not stopping for pleasantries. “I should be back by this evening.”
Cassian watched him go, making a mental note of the fact that he and Nesta would have the house to themselves for the day. One of the few pregnancy side effects that neither mate minded was Nesta’s increased appetite for intimacy and there was plenty the pair could get up to with some additional privacy. By the time he returned to bed, Cassian had calmed, consumed with plans for later rather than anxieties. Exhausted after several nights of continuously waking, the General fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
It was morning when he woke again and the silver light of early dawn shone through the bedroom window, casting long shadows throughout the space. At first, Cassian wasn’t sure what had pulled him from sleep, his groggy mind cataloguing the room in search of something amiss. Just as he was about to drift back to sleep, a sound from the hallway caught his attention. Quiet footsteps on stone could be heard several feet from his door, drawing closer as the intruder walked down the hallway. He rose soundlessly, retrieving a short sword from the dressing table as he moved towards the door, careful to preserve the element of surprise. If it were just him, he would allow the intruder to enter the bedroom where he could attack them from behind, but Nesta’s presence complicated things. The thought of his mate in danger filled Cassian with cold rage and he gripped the door handle, readying himself for a fight. The priority would be to get the intruder away from his mate and subdued as quickly as possible, and for that, Cassian would need to get close. He considered waking the sleeping female, but thought better of it, afraid the precious moments it took to rouse Nesta might give their attacker the jump on him.
The footsteps drew closer, and Cassian held his breath, waiting until the assailant was almost to his door. When they were no more than a few paces down the hallway, he sprang into action, throwing the door open with a great roar and barreling towards the source of the footsteps. He brought the intruder down with relative ease, his hand closing tightly around their neck as he slammed them into the cold stone floor. They were smaller than he expected and went down without much of a fight, but Cassian knew better than to dismiss a threat too quickly. His grip on their throat tightened as they struggled beneath him, clawing uselessly at his arm. His other hand had his short sword raised, ready to bring about a quick death to his opponent. In the darkness of the windowless hall, he couldn’t make out the face of the person struggling beneath him, and with the scent of his pregnant mate lingering behind him and his veins still alight with rage, he kept his grip firm.
Several seconds passed before a scream rang out behind him and he was being pulled away. Nesta had thrown the door to their bedroom open, flooding the hallway with light. She was at Cassian’s side in an instant, hauling him back with all of her strength as she screamed his name. As he moved, the light hit the face of the figure on the floor and Cassian’s blood ran cold. The person he had tackled was no intruder at all, but none other than Y/N, Azriel’s mate.
You had never stayed at the House of Wind without Azriel before. Usually, if he was leaving the city, he would fly you to your apartment to stay until he returned. Once, when he was going to be gone for several weeks, he even asked you to stay in the River House where he knew you’d be safe. The House of Wind, given its location, was just too inconvenient without your winged mate to ferry you back and forth to the city. You did like the place, though, and you enjoyed Cassian and Nesta’s company, so when Azriel had work to do but wanted you around, you tended to stay there with him.
The night of what you all now referred to as “the Incident”, Azriel and you arrived at the House of Wind late, having spent the evening at the River House with Feyre and Rhysand. Nesta and Cassian had retired for the night, so the two of you were undisturbed as you spent the evening in each other’s arms. Several hours after you fell asleep, you were roused by the feeling of large hands running through your hair in long, gentle strokes. This was the way Azriel liked to wake you, sweet and gentle, and there was a smile on your lips before you even opened your eyes.
“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand still running through your hair. He was seated on the edge of the bed dressed in full leathers, clearly preparing to leave. “I have to check in on an informant. It shouldn’t take more than a day at most. In the morning, Cas will fly you home if you want, though you know you’re welcome to stay here.”
You blinked the sleepiness from your eyes, sitting up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Be careful, please.” You said it every time he left, lest he forget his promise to come back to you.
“I will be. I love you, sweetheart. Sorry I have to leave so suddenly.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on your forehead, pausing for a moment as he did so. “You’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be okay. I love you too, Azriel.”
You fell back asleep quickly, the feeling of Azriel’s lips lingering as you cuddled into his still-warm side of the bed. By early morning, however, his warmth and scent had faded, leaving you unable to resume your slumber once the early morning light woke you for the first time. After dressing, you decided to creep by Nesta and Cassian’s room to see if they were yet awake. While Nesta tended to sleep in late these days, Cassian seemed to wake earlier and earlier.
The House of Wind was oddly quiet at that hour, and it struck you how odd it felt to roam the halls without Azriel nearby. When you turned down the hallway towards Cassian and Nesta’s rooms, you paused for a moment to listen, hoping to avoid interrupting or even overhearing, a private moment between the two. When you were met with silence, you walked further down the hallway, listening closely for voices or footsteps indicating one or both of them were awake. When you reached the door and still heard nothing, you decided to leave, inferring that the two were still asleep. As you began to turn, though, the door to the bedroom bust open before shutting again with a great bang.
In an instant, you were on the floor looking up at a faceless attacker. You flailed weakly, your vision going white for a moment as your head cracked against the stone floor. You opened your mouth the scream, but before you could make a sound a large hand was clamped tightly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. In the darkness, you could see nothing but the faint outline of your assailant, clearly far bigger and stronger than you were. As your air supply was cut off, you began to thrash, clawing at the arm pinning you in place. Black spots were beginning to dance in your field of vision and panic set in. Your attacker had completely overpowered you and your efforts to dislodge his grip on your neck were feeble. You would die here. You thought of Azriel and wondered whether he would feel the moment you died or if it wouldn’t hit him until he came back and saw your body. You thought of Cassian and Nesta, how they would find your lifeless body just outside their door when they woke. You hoped they wouldn’t blame themselves and that they would take care of Azriel in your absence.
Just as your awareness was about to slip away entirely, a scream rang out behind your attacker and the hand on your neck disappeared. You gasped, coughing as you heaved precious air into your screaming lungs. Your face was wet with tears and your throat burned each breath both ecstasy and agony. After a few seconds, you remembered that your attacker was still present and rolled, trying and failing to push yourself up off the ground. A pair of hands came down on your shoulders, gentle this time, and you reeled, scooting away frantically as you prepared to be attacked again. The second blow never came, though, and in the dim light of the hallway, you realized the person approaching you was Nesta. Behind her was the blurry figure of Cassian. Had they chased off the intruder?
You were dizzy, either from lack of oxygen or the blow to the head, and you settled onto your side as you fought to catch your breath. Nesta approached you again, and this time you let her lift your head, the back stinging as she ran her fingers through your hair. Her hand came away red and she turned to look at Cassian, her eyes wide. “She needs a healer, I think.”
“Y/N,” Cassian choked out, his tone grave. “Y/N. I am so, so sorry. I thought you were an intruder… I had no idea…” Cassian sounded deeply upset and in your muddled state, it took a moment to piece it all together. The large figure, the familiar smell, the roar that you heard just before impact. Your attacker wasn’t an intruder at all, but Cassian himself.
“Cas,” Nesta said softly. “Go get Rhys.”
He hesitated for a moment, and in the pale morning light, you could see his eyes were wet with unshed tears, his face a mask of utter horror. After a pause, he turned, racing down the hallway towards the balcony. Nesta told you to wait, disappearing into her room before coming back with a cloth that stung when she pressed it to the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Cassian’s an idiot, he thought you were someone breaking in. He would have never done that to you on purpose.”
“I figured as much,” you replied, wincing at the sound of your voice. It was hoarse, barely even a whisper, and when you spoke your throat burned. After taking a few moments to catch your breath, Nesta helped you stand, reaching out to steady you as you swayed in place, the earth tilting on its axis at the movement. She guided you to a nearby guestroom, dismissing your concerns about bleeding on the fine bed linens as she all but shoved you into bed. No sooner had you laid back against the headboard than could several sets of rushed footsteps be heard in the corridor. Rhys entered the room first looking unusually disheveled and slightly breathless with another fae hot on his heels. The other male was a healer you recognized from the healing halls, no doubt plucked from there by the High Lord on his way to the House of Wind. Moments later, Cassian appeared as well, his face as ashen as before.
“I’m okay,” you croaked, eager to reassure everyone, especially Cassian, that no permanent damage had been done. Although terrifying, the relief that there was not a would-be assassin lurking in the house and the knowledge that it had all been a misunderstanding calmed you. The healer moved to examine you, cool hands running over your neck and head as he made his assessment. Deciding a few sutures were in order, you bowed your head as he made quick work of the cash on the back. When he was done, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a potion meant to help ease the pain. Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta watched from the corner, exchanging worried glances and hushed words. Once the healer declared that you would heal with time and rest, Cassian stepped forward and took a knee by your bed.
“I didn’t know you were here. I saw Az leave and I thought you were at your house. Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was so stupid, but I just reacted and… By the Mother, I’m so sorry.” You had never seen the General look so broken before, his voice tight and rough as he spoke. Behind him, Nesta paced nervously, clearly fighting the urge to reach out and comfort her mate.
“Cas, I know you didn’t mean to. It was just a big misunderstanding.” Your voice broke, the last few words punctuated by a high-pitched squeak. Rhysand moved quickly, handing you a glass of water, and if it hadn’t been for the coughing fit that overwhelmed you the moment you took the first sip, you might have laughed at the absurdity of the High Lord of the Night Court fetching you water. Absorbed in your efforts not to choke, you missed the worried glance shared between the brothers at the sound of your cough. After a moment, you regained your composure. “It’s alright, Cas. Just an accident, that’s all.”
“It’s not alright,” Cas argued, “but thank you for forgiving me. Even though I don’t deserve it.”
“Speaking of forgiveness,” Rhys interjected, “Perhaps we should let Y/N rest while we figure out how to keep Azriel from killing you when he gets back.” He smiled slightly when he said it, but his tone told you he was quite serious. Upon mention of your mate, Cassian blanched.
“Just tell him I said not to,” you instructed, your words raspy and slightly slurred. As the potion began to work, the sharp pain in your neck and head turned into a deep, dull ache and your eyelids began to feel heavy. Closing your eyes, you were blissfully unaware of the turmoil your mate was currently experiencing.
“He’s going to kill me,” Cassian announced when they reached the living room, his expression grim. Nesta rubbed her stomach, eyebrows drawn together in concern, and watched her mate begin to pace the room, turning to speak to Rhysand. “He should kill me. I would kill me too, if it were Nesta.”
“He’s not going to kill you,” Nesta interjected. “Right, Rhysand?”
“Right,” he agreed, sounding less than confident. “But, to be safe, we should probably have Nesta at the River House when he gets here. And, maybe have Amren on hand. Just in case, of course.”
Cassian ran a hand over his face and nodded, assuming the stony countenance of a male headed into battle. “Right… I’ll take Nesta while you stay here, Rhys.”
“Wait, now?” Nesta asked. “But Azriel won’t be back until this evening at the earliest.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Fear like that can travel down the mating bond from miles away. If Azriel felt even a hint of Y/N’s fear, he’s probably already on his way.”
