Chapter Text
He’s here. In Illyria. In my village. In our shop. Speaking to my father.
“We need two of the large sabres and one long sword,” Cassian says to my father.
“The sharpest ones you have,” Azriel requests.
That voice. The reminder of inexperienced touches, desperate kisses, sensitive caresses.
I shudder remembering our teenage rendezvous, marked with longing and forbidden love.
Tongues intertwining. Our teeth hitting each others before we broke into laughter. My moan as his hand cupped my breast while his eyes went wide.
I watch him from behind a partition, shielded by the dim fae lights and rows of weapons. But somehow it still feels like he can sense me.
His gaze shifts in my direction but I duck immediately, hidden by the worktable I’ve been sitting behind.
His breathy gasps in my ear. Our mutual trust. The throbbing desire and rush of hormones.
I swallow thickly, willing my body not to remember every single detail of our last encounter, so many years ago.
“I have the two sabres ready for you, Lord Cassian, but a long sword will take a few days to design and sharpen,” My father explains.
He is an expert sword and knife blacksmith and our little shop is located in a remote village of Illyria.
“That’s fine, Christophe,” Cassian says. “What do you have for throwing knives?”
Fuck.
Throwing knives are my product in the store, something my father trained me to make and ultimately delegated entirely to me.
He’s going to ask me to come forward.
“Aylia? Please join us,” He calls gently to the back.
I gulp, smoothing my dress as I pull my wings in, willing my body to calm. They’ll be able to sense my apprehension if I don’t reel it in.
I stride out, my dark brown hair tied tightly into a bun at the nape my neck.
I avoid their eyes as I look warmly to my father who stands at the shop’s counter where we display our custom weapons.
“Yes, father?” I ask respectfully.
My father gives me a genuine smile that makes me want to assist him in anyway I can. He’s a rarity in Illyria, especially in my village.
He’s never focused on what the others have done. Never insisted the females of our family be submissive and untrained. Never clipped our wings.
I flex my own instinctually as I continue to focus on my father and not the two Illyrian gods in front of me.
“Can you retrieve your newest throwing knives for Lord Cassian and Lord Azriel? The ones…the private collection ones,” He murmurs low, though the shop is empty.
I nod, turning to find my wrapped bundles under the counter.
“Thank you,” Cassian says gratefully as my eyes flick to his for a moment. I feel my cheeks redden as he gives me kind smile, he's beautiful in a roguish way.
I haven’t even looked to the male I know, not giving myself the chance to wonder…to hope that he remembers our tryst all those years ago.
I roll out the sheath of small knives on the glass counter, extending the worn fabric wrap until over thirty small, shining knives glisten under the overhead lights.
“These are our available throwing knives from heaviest to lightest,” I point to each side of the fabric roll before picking one of my favorites out. “We specialize in the curved notch end, as you see here. It gives the thrower a unique advantage by shortening the throw distance and really gripping the target. They do take some…practice though,” I wince, realizing I’m speaking to two of the most talented and experienced warriors in the Night Court, besides our High Lord.
“If I may, she is being modest. These knives are unparalleled in Prythian. My daughter creates each one by hand meticulously. We never had a decent set of throwing knives until she began her experimentation,” My father says proudly and I feel my blush deepen.
“Aylia, was it?” Azriel’s deep voice asks in my direction. I nod, still not looking in his eyes. One of his uniquely scarred hands reaches out for one the knives. “May I?”
“Certainly,” I affirm, pulling it out of his sheath.
As he raises the knife to the light, I watch him study from the blade and tip, showing Cassian the intricate curvature and cleft.
His eyes shoot to mine before I can look away and I bite back a gasp as we stare intently for a moment.
Shadows swirl around his ears, as if they’re snakes speaking to him.
And he knows who I am. He 100% knows. I'm an idiot for thinking he could have forgotten.
For the few seconds I study him, his soul crushing beauty cascades through me, reminding me of my original attraction.
While he looks older and more weathered, his deep, hazel eyes are just as expressive and assessing as I remember. His body has only become more chiseled and conditioned.
My wings shudder reflexively, balancing my body as they react.
I feel the warrior stare at my wings, probably with both curiosity and amusement.
Although the High Lord outlawed wing clipping, it was pretty much still exclusively done to the females in my village. With the exception of me.
I look away quickly, pretending to organize the knives again even though I know they’re already in a perfect order.
They assess the knife together for a few moments before Azriel slides it back in my fabric roll.
“We’re going to need ten of these. Five for each of us. How many more do you have in stock?” He inquires.
I search the set, pulling out the matching ones.
“Only four at the moment, my lord. I can make six more in about seven days. Do you want this size or a custom handle?” I ask demurely, staring at the knives.
“These are fine. We’ll come back to retrieve them. Send word if you need more time,” He says to me and I lift my gaze to meet his.
His expression is neutral, not indicating his recognition and certainly not alluding to the fact that he took my virginity all those years ago.
Well, sort-of took my virginity.
Not like I didn’t willingly give it to him. And not because we didn’t try to fully…insert him.
Gods. I cringe to myself instantly, embarrassed by something that happened over 100 years ago. I hope he can’t scent me.
“Ok, it will be done,” I choke out, nodding as I roll up my throwing knives and practically run out of the shop’s showroom.
I feel them all watch my abrupt departure with both confusion and pity, perhaps wondering why I’m such a strange female.
Once I’m hidden in the safety of the partition once more, I hear Cassian clear his throat.
“Apologies, my daughter is…very dedicated to her craft,” My father pardons.
“Not a problem. Christophe, we’ll be back in a week. Please bill the High Lord and keep us informed. He sends his regards,” Cassian says graciously.
“Thank you both. We are honored to produce these weapons for you,” My father replies courteously.
I hear them all shake hands before the sound of boots and heavy weapons dissipates out the front door of the shop.
My father’s gentle steps round the half wall of the partition, his heavy gaze on the back of my head.
“Care to explain what that was all about?” He asks delicately as my face turns as red as a beet.
***
“Smells delicious, my heart,” My father says lovingly, kissing my cheek. “It reminds me of…never mind,” He trails off, looking distant for a while.
I look down at the pot I’m stirring, a steaming mixture of pork sausage, carrots, onions, spices, and chicken broth.
A reminder perhaps of something my mother used to make. I frown, feeling his sadness over her loss even centuries after she died during my birth.
“Thanks, papa. Where are you off to?” I ask, noticing his thick, winter coat.
“I need to go get more firewood for the forging hearth if I’m going to work on Lord Cassian’s sword tomorrow. Finnick has some ready. Do you have everything you need to make the throwing knives?” He asks, putting his gloves on.
“Yes, I started working on them today. I’ll probably be done early so I can test them out a bit,” I explain, salting the stew.
“Good. If all goes well, perhaps the High Lord will visit. He hasn’t been to our village for years now,” He laments, looking out the window at the snowy environment. “I’ll be back shortly,” He says, throwing a scarf around his neck.
I nod as he leaves, looking back at my pot as my mind starts to wander to…that day.
***
“Az…Az!” I hiss at the back of the cabin window. The cabin of the wife of the High Lord, Rhysand’s mother.
I am certifiably insane for thinking that this is a good idea. Azriel had lived with Rhys for years now in Windhaven, forced to join the training camp.
I met Az when my father relocated us to Windhaven temporarily for training season to try to drum up interest in his specialized weapons.
Windhaven was a far stretch from my hometown village, which only had about 50 Illyrians.
He and I had found each other wandering through the woods one day when we were both trying to escape our every day lives.
He had been trying to wield his shadows while I was skipping rocks a small pond.
I shiver my wings, the ice and snow slaking off them unpleasantly as I knock softly on the window once more.
Finally I hear stirring as movement shifts to the window and it cracks open slightly.
“Aylia?” He whispers.
“It’s me,” I say back.
He opens the window fully as it creaks and I scoot my body through the narrow opening with my wings pulled in tight.
I land gently on his bed, moving my boots quickly so I don’t soak the bed in snow. He sits up next to me, running a hand through his beautiful hair, shirtless and in his sleep pants.
“Couldn’t sleep? It's nearly midnight,” He mentions drowsily, yawning.
“Shit, I’m sorry Az. I thought you’d be awake. I had to get away from our cabin. My father’s friends were ranting about how the females in Windhaven aren’t as ‘easy’ here. Thank the Gods my father didn’t contribute to the conversation,” I grumble, reminiscing about my mother for a moment.
“It’s fine. We had a rough training day so I settled in early. Are you tired?” He asks, motioning to the bed.
We’d slept together some nights, either for body heat or comfort and although we’d never done anything but sleep, each time was bringing us closer to breaking an invisible barrier in our friendship.
“I’m ok for now. Is it ok if I just…just sit on the rug for while? You can go to bed if you want,” I respond, standing to unlace my boots before sitting in front of his small fireplace.
“Well that sounds boring for you,” He teases, sliding off the bed to sit next to me.
I grimace before I give a slight smile and shrug as I turn back to the fire.
“What’s bothering you?” He asks gently.
“They came again today,” I say blandly.
"Who?" He questions.
"The bad ones. The males," I reply dryly.
“The…Illyrian wingcutters?” He blanches, twisting his face to mine.
“Yes,” I choke out, fighting back tears. "To our doorstep. With their...shears," I say with disgust.
“And what the fuck did your father say?” He grits, his voice getting louder.
“Shh…you’ll wake up the house,” I murmur, rubbing his arm. He grumbles, looking back at the flames as we sit in silence.
“He…he told them never to come back and that if he saw them, he’d throw a dagger into each of their eyeballs,” I say, starting to giggle as I cover my mouth.
Azriel gapes for a moment at me before a wryly grin crosses his face.
“I always knew I liked your father as much as I like you,” He smirks, elbowing me once more.
I blush, the warmth of the room starting to stifle me, so I unzip my jacket and throw it on the ground next to me.
“Who’s in the house tonight?” I ask, perking my ears to hear any remote sounds but am only met by silence.
“No one, actually. Rhys and Cass are with Rhys’s mother and sister in Velaris. Something about needing to get fitted for official blah blah duties. You can see why I asked to sit that one out,” He shrugs, looking down at his scarred hands.
I move to grab one of his hands, squeezing it in mine. They don't frighten me.
I’d met his friends only one or two times before in passing and while they seemed like worthy males, I wondered if they knew the deep workings of Az that I did.
The anguish. The pain.
And the pure joy he got from the simplest of things. Carving ice animals. Snagging chocolates from my father’s secret stash. And snowball fights in the woods.
“It’s amazing that they can travel to Velaris like that. Do they do that…that thing you can do with your shadows? Where you jump around places?” I ask, motioning to the swirling darkness of the room.
“Sort of. Rhys does it differently but the end result is the same. Cass can’t,” He explains and I nod, thoughtfully.
We relish in the silence for a few moments, staring at the fire. A sign of our comfortable friendship.
“I…I actually have some news I need to share,” Azriel starts warily.
I turn to him and furrow my brows.
“I am being relocated to help Rhys’s father,” He says so fast that it sounds like he’s shoving the words out.
“You’re…you’re what?” I ask, feeling the air rush out of my lungs as I let his hand go.
“It might just be temporary. They want me to be a shadowsinger for the High Lord. I don’t know yet-” He rambles, his hands clenching into fists.
“You’re leaving?” I say, trying not to sound disappointed but bordering on crying.
His eyes flick to me as his face falls.
“Aylia…”
“It’s ok. It’s fine. This is wonderful for you. It's what you've worked so hard for,” I say, standing to put my boots back on.
Tears start to prick my eyes as they blur making it more difficult for me to tie my laces.
“Aylia, I’m…I’m going to miss you the most,” He blurts out, a hand reaching to stop my frantic fingers.
I freeze, the tears now streaming down my cheeks and saturating my boots.
I’d known him for years since my father and I moved to Windhaven, but it was always understood that he would have to leave eventually to serve the Illyrian legions. He never wanted to stay in this place.
But as someone with minimal magic or gifts, my future would always be Illyria. Despite my awareness of those facts, knowing a separation was coming didn’t make the situation any easier.
“I better go. Send word before you leave?” I bite out, standing to reach for his window as I grab my jacket.
“Please don’t go,” He practically yells, his shadows swarming me. “Please Aylia. Stay with me tonight,” He begs softly, his real hand now holding my wrist.
I shudder, overcome by his touch and my grief.
“Please don’t go,” He whispers once more.
I slowly and carefully return to the bed with my feet on the ground as he kneels before me, pulling off my haphazardly laced boots.
He gently places my jacket on the floor before he sits next to me on the bed. One of his hands tentatively intertwines with mine again, a soothing comfort radiating from him.
We sit in silence for moments, not sure what to say to each other or how to act.
Azriel leans over to grab a cup of water, offering it to me first but I decline. Sighing, he brings it to his mouth to take a sip.
And before I can even control myself, the question I’ve wanted to ask him for months spills out of my mouth like word vomit.
“Az, Iwantyoutotakemyvirginity,” I blubber through my tears.
Water sprays over both of us as Azriel chokes on the water and flings it so far the fire even flickers.
His choke is followed by several coughs and spasms, his body cowered over trying to expel the liquid.
“Oh Gods,” I mutter, putting my wet face in my hands.
His retching continues for seconds that feel like hours and I grasp the ground, trying to find my boots so I can vacate once more.
“No! No,” He says through his wheezing, his voice hoarse.
“Oh Gods, what have I done?” I question to no one in particular.
Finally after what feels like eternity, his breathing calms and he looks at me once more.
“I just…I was surprised is all. Aylia…we’ve never…talked about that before,” He explains, having trouble finding words.
“I know. Just forget I said anything. Please,” I redden, wanting to pull my hair out.
“It’s just…are you sure you want me to do that? I have…I have no experience,” He says sheepishly and my head shoots up out of my hands to stare at him.
“What?” I question. His cheeks turn a deep burgundy against his tan skin, apparent only in the fire light.
“I’ve never…there hasn’t been an opportunity…the females here…” He says, pulling excuses from wherever he can find them.
“Ok. Ok so we’re both starting from square one. We can figure this out, right? I mean. If you want to. No pressure. I just…I want it to be you if it’s going to be anyone. I trust you and you’re leaving so…” I ramble, trailing off.
“So you’ll never have to see me again?” He teases.
“No! No, that’s not what I mean. I just mean that there is no obligation for you to feel like you have to have a relationship with me or…or anything else,” I wince, trying not to meet his eyes once more.
Looking down at my hands, I notice a small tendril of smokey shadow weaving in between my fingers.
“Aylia. Look at me,” He murmurs.
I struggle to lift my head until I feel his rough fingers touch my chin. Once I finally muster the nerve, his hazel eyes meet my brown ones, warming instantly.
"So beautiful," He murmurs, stroking my cheek. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with,” He whispers with a slight smile. "I like you," He says so delicately and sincerely that butterflies flutter in my stomach.
"I like you too," I admit, returning his bright grin. Probably an over the top grin, to be quite honest.
I take advantage of his admission and push him flat on the bed, his wings flaring out in response.
I pounce on him immediately, straddling his body as my lips find his desperately and awkwardly.
“Aylia…slow…down,” He garbles between the assault of my dry lips.
I pull away suddenly, blushing as I realize I’m somehow fully on top of him in my leather pants.
“Oh Gods. Sorry,” I flinch, covering my face once more.
He pulls my hands down before he flips us so my own wings surge out and I lie flat on the bed.
I gasp as his full body presses against me, including his bare chest.
I feel myself start to pant from the instant arousal caused by hormones pulsing through my body and most likely his. The scent of his arousal is like a drug, making me high on pleasure.
Skin and teeth and soft flesh touch each other, our constant play for power overwhelming my senses.
Azriel leans back suddenly, his hands moving to the edges of my tunic.
“Can…can I?” He asks, looking at my eyes for consent.
I nod and he pulls at the tucked in garment until it slides over my head, exposing the wrappings around my breasts.
He sits back to explore my body with his eyes, moving them over my stomach and chest.
“Gods. I didn’t know this was all hiding under your snow clothes,” He laments and I shove him playfully.
“Kiss me, please,” I demand and he leans down over me once more to capture my lips.
“Have you…been…kissed…before?” He asks between kisses. I push him back, rolling my eyes.
“Yes, Az. Phoenix. And Fenton,” I admit, shrugging. His eyes go wide with shock before a sly smile crosses his lips.
“I guess I have some work to do to catch up then,” He grins, leaning down to kiss me again. His tongue skims the entrance to my mouth causing me to moan in response.
I move uncontrollably through our kiss as his pelvis hits my core, an unintentional motion causing something hard to brush up against me.
He bites my lip in response, leading me to arch into him and he pauses, pushing my hips back down.
“You’re…you’re going to…make things happen too quickly if you keep doing that,” He reddens and I furrow my brows in confusion.
“Make what happen?” I ask.
“Gods. You do…you do know how sex works?” He grimaces, looking down between us at something.
“Yes I know, Az,” I roll my eyes, looking up at him.
“Well then, you should know that all the writhing you’re doing is going to make me come in my pants if you keep it up,” He admits.
I blush furiously, looking down to see what he’s been studying.
Sure enough, in between us is a large outline in his pants. We both flush deeper, our eyes meeting again before my gaze trails to his lips.
“Can I…can I see it? I’ve never touched one before. Or seen one. Ever,” I blubber, glancing down again at his erection.
“Only if I can take this off,” He motions to the coverings on my breasts. I nod shyly, reaching around to unwrap the fabric until it falls to the floor.
His mouth seems to go dry as he tries to speak but nothing comes out.
“Holy fuck. Can I…touch you?” He questions, his eyes not leaving my moderately sized breasts. I personally don’t really get the appeal but I shrug, nodding.
One of his hands grazes up the side of my body until he can hold my breast in the palm of his hand, squeezing it gently.
“Gods. You feel…so good,” He murmurs, rolling the flesh in his hand before his thumb and pointer fingers tweak the tip of my nipple.
I gasp as it responds right away, my back arching into his touch further.
“Oh…I didn’t know-” I start before my eyes roll back. “Do that again,” I request.
He smiles, shifting the weight of his arms to reach his other hand to cup my other breast, eliciting the same response from it.
I moan wildly, my body thriving from the gentle caress on my breasts. I look up once more, reaching for the waistband of his pants.
“More…I need more,” I request desperately, trying to push down his pants.
“Wait,” He says, stopping me and I shift my gaze back to him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I am…I am…Gods. It’s…large. I just want to warn you,” He blushes again and I giggle slightly before I see the seriousness in his gaze.
“How large?” I ask quietly, raising an eyebrow. He clenches his jaw, reaching down to undo his pants before he pushes them all the way off.
My gaze traces down the planes of his chest, the chiseled abdomen of his core, and to his endowed member.
Oh.My.Gods. I really have no idea if he's what is considered large, but I'll take his word for it.
I suck in a breath, looking at his cock tightly pressed against his abs now. He reaches a hand down to stroke it a few times and I watch in fascination as it moves slightly on its own.
"Does that...hurt?" I question, my jaw dropping as I watch him touch himself. He bites back a smile.
"Only if I leave it like this," He explains. "At least until it goes away," He adds and I nod.
“I don’t know how to touch it, Az,” I admit, just staring at him jerking himself.
He smiles warmly, reaching for my hand before he guides it to wrap around the tip.
I relish in the feeling of holding his pleasure in my hand. His cock is warm and hard but somehow also soft in my hand. So soft.
“Just like this. Moderate to firm pressure. Gods…just like that,” He hisses, wrapping his own hand around mine and showing me the movement and pressure he likes.
He’s so full in my hand, my fingers barely containing half of his cock. I keep stroking him up and down until a bead of liquid leaks out of the tip.
“Az…there’s…what’s that?” I ask, staring as the liquid coats my hand. He lets out a moan, the lubrication spreading.
“Pre-cum,” He grits out, looking back down between us to where my hand works him. "It means whatever you're doing feels really good," He pants.
I nod, continuing my grip as I watch his reactions closely.
“Shit, you need to stop,” He commands, pulling my hand off of him.
“Already?” I ask, biting my lip.
He just smirks, sucking my lips out from my mouth until we entangle once more in a mess of tongue and teeth.
Our frantic kisses lead to our teeth smashing unintentionally and we both groan from the pain before laughing uncontrollably.
“You’re such a wicked little thing,” He admits, tickling me slightly until I scream.
“Please…please stop,” I laugh, pushing him away before we both calm our breathing. We stare at each other momentarily before he sits back and moves his hands to my leathers.
He looks up to meet my eyes and I just nod, giving him permission. After some effort, he guides the pants down my thighs, exposing my core to the warm air.
“Wow,” He murmurs, looking at my pussy and I squeeze my legs together in response.
“You don’t have to look at it,” I mutter as he looks up at me in confusion.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks.
“I just…others have told me that males aren’t really into it,” I shrug. He raises an eyebrow before his hands reach for my knees and pull gently.
“Az…” I start.
“I’m into it,” He says plainly, his eyes leaving mine to trace between my legs. I blush, feeling the moisture that’s collected there just from his eyes on me.
One of his fingers runs down the length of my slit, collecting my wetness and I arch uncontrollably.
“Az!” I shriek, not used to anyone touching me.
“You like that?” He asks genuinely, reaching forward to touch my pussy lips again. He pulls back again, studying the wetness on his finger more closely.
I only moan in response as he starts to move one finger back and forth through the slickness.
“You’re…wet. Like. Really wet,” He states thoughtfully, studying my pussy.
I redden once more, pulling on his shoulders to indicate he should come up.
“Let's try to do it now,” I request, my body wriggling under him. The movement causes his cock to press against my core and we both groan, the barely there touch nearly sending our teenage bodies over the edge.
“Open your legs more,” He instructs, shifting between us.
We both look down, his body hovering over mine as one of his hands grips his cock by the base. His large, dark wings are pulled back so there's no way I can accidentally touch them.
He leans forward, haphazardly aiming the tip of his erection into…something.
I’m not fully sure he or I know where to put it.
Nerveousness hits me as I feel him poking around until he find a spot to nestle the tip, pressing slightly.
“Oh,” I say, reacting to my surprise as he starts to push in.
“Is this…is this right?” He asks, pressing slightly harder.
“I…I’m not sure. Maybe?” I reply as he drives forward again. “Ow!” I yelp, the force of his thrust moving inside me slightly.
“Fuck, what did I do?” He pants, his arousal evident.
“You’re inside. You’re definitely inside now,” I explain through gritted teeth.
“Can I…can I move again?” He asks, a tone of desperation in his voice. I hesitate, the pain still radiating through my pelvis. I look down to see he’s barely inside me. Not even the full tip.
“Ok,” I say.
He surges forward again, moving a fraction of an inch in further and I push on his chest once more.
“Ouch!” I shriek, forcing him back. "Get off!"
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. It feels so fucking good though,” He hisses, pulling out. “Do you want to stop?”
I whimper slightly from the pain, wishing this was getting easier. I shake my head, determined to get through this.
“Let’s just…let’s go really slowly if you can. Let's try again,” I encourage, opening my legs once more as he leans down to reposition his cock.
We both take deep breaths, gathering our nerves until he looks to me for approval. I nod, breathing out sharply.
Just as the tip presses into me again, a searing noise cuts through the silence of the house.
“Hey FUCKER!!! Wake up. We brought back Dad’s good booze from Velaris,” One male voice booms.
“Yea and kick out whoever you have in there. We’re solo the rest of the night and it’s time to get wasted!” Another male voice yells.
“Fuck!” Azriel snarls, practically leaping off of me. “I’m really sorry, my brothers-” He starts.
I shake my head, too rattled to respond as I pull on my clothes faster than I ever have before. I whip my boots on and cover my head with my jacket, reaching for the window.
“Wait! Aylia, wait! Can we meet tomor-” He starts to say, but I jump out of the window and run faster than I ever have in my life.
***
That was the last time I saw Azriel.
That thought makes my chest burn with…something. Anguish. Desire. Regret.
I stir the pot once more, bringing my attention back to the bread baking in the oven. I pull it out, checking to see that it’s ready before I let it cool in a basket.
Seven days. Seven days until I see him again.
And seven days to come up with a plan to request a redo.