Stay With Me Pt 3

stay with me pt 3

azriel shadowsinger x OFC

part one, part two, part four, part five

warnings: torture, violence, gore, angst

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It had been a week since Ophelia left. A week since he heard her laughter, saw her smiling at him or swooning at her dizzying scent. It was already starting to slowly fade from the House of Wind. Without it, Azriel thought he might go crazy.

Even more than usual.

His shadows had told him that the day after…the day after Rita’s, Rhys had picked her up from the balcony outside her room. So, he figured she was out running a mission. But a week was unusual. She was normally gone for a couple days before she came back. Yet something just wasn’t sitting right with him. She had always checked in if she was going to be gone longer than what she said. And as far as he knew, she hadn’t.

And if he asked about her, he would seem desperate.

Okay, he was desperate. Desperate for her. For them to finally happen. Azriel was finally ready to tell her everything that he had been holding back all these months.

When she finally let him kiss her, he thought everything would fall into place. Things would work out, just as they worked out for his brothers. But of course not, nothing was that simple when it came to Azriel. The cauldron had cursed him, it was more than obvious now.

Had he done something wrong? Maybe he had misread the entire situation and took it too far. But she had wanted him, she was just as greedy to touch him as he was her. Everything had felt right, perfect, up until the moment Cassian had interrupted them.

Azriel was still pissed at him for it.

“You alright?” Feyre asked as Azriel stormed through the doors of the River House.

“Fine.” He spat back. As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced.

He didn’t mean to come off hateful towards his High Lady. He stopped walking and sighed up towards the ceiling, before turning around. “I’m sorry, it’s just-” What the fuck could he tell her? “Been a rough week.”

“I understand.” She smiled softly at him, her blue-grey eyes full of knowing. “Come, Rhys said he had something important for everyone.”

It was true, Rhys had summoned everyone to the River House. Maybe it was something Ophelia had relayed back to him and something was finally happening between the Human Queens and the Autumn Court. But as he and Feyre entered one of the sitting rooms, he could tell it was something much worse than that.

Eris was here.

“Now that Az is finally here, we can get started.” Rhys shot Azriel a accusatory glare from across the room.

“As you all know, Az and Phia had been gaining intelligence from the Autumn Court. It has been hard but every piece of information counts.” He began.

Rhys took a steadying breath, place a hand in his mates lower back. “Last week, I sent Ophelia out on a solo mission.”

A knot took form in Azriels chest. His knees felt weak and unsteady.

“She told me she would only be there for a couple of days, but obviously hadn’t returned yet.”

The knot tightened, it was getting hard to breathe.

“Feyre and I thought she may have found out something important and was still running reconnaissance, but when we traveled to the mountains in the Winter Court to see if the mental link would work if we were closer. Yet…nothing.”

The wood of the door frame shattered in Azriel’s hand, splinters embedding themselves into his palm. Many turned to look at him, but Rhys pressed on, ignoring his outburst.

“That’s when Eris returned, and told us.” There was a harsh moment of silence, and Azriels anxiety grew to a tipping point.

“She’s being held captive by my father and brothers.” Eris finished for him.

The room exploded into darkness.

Azriel couldn’t breathe, it felt like his breath was being sucked out of his chest. His ears were ringing, and he could have sworn there was blood on his hands. Whose blood was that? Was it his? When had he ended up on the ground?

Azriel!

His shadows receded back into him, only a little. He shook his head clear of that voice. He could only hear Ophelias. Could only hear her laugh, see her smile, see her.

Azriel!

Another voice. Female this time, he knew that voice. It had shown him kindness and compassion. Tried to look beneath all the scars. Just like Ophelia tried.

Black and red was all he saw.

Suddenly, someone was behind him, gripping him so hard from behind he could have sworn one of his ribs cracked.

His shadows finally dissipated and he was staring down at the wreckage that was Eris. The males face was beaten so badly he was hardly recognizable. Had he done that? He looked down at his hands, knuckles busted open. Hands coated in blood, a mix between his own and Eris’s.

He had definitely done that.

People were shouting at him, shouting at each other. But he couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. All he saw was Ophelia sitting on the counter, smiling at him. He had lost her before he even had her. Now, she was a captive. In the cauldron cursed Autumn Court.

The world suddenly snapped back into focus is a dizzying rush. He spun towards Rhys, teeth bared, pushing who he now realized as Cassian, off of him.

“You sent my mate to die!”

Silence.

Utter silence.

Feyre was the first one to speak. “Your mate is alive, Azriel.” Her tone was calm and steady, how he figured she would have talked to a wild animal who was cornered and scared. “You would have felt…” She trailed off, glancing at Rhysand. “You would have felt it.”

Azriel snarled again, turning on his heel.

“Where do you think you are going?” This voice was not Rhysand, his brother. This was the voice of his High Lord.

“Getting her back.”

“I cannot let you do that, shadowsinger.” Power rumbled throughout the room, the entire house.

A dark, humorless laugh came from Azriel. “You tore half of Prythian apart for your mate.” His voice was as cold as the steel of a blade. “I will do worse for mine.”

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A cold splash of water woke Ophelia up. Gasping, she looked around wildly and found the sneering face of Beron staring down at her, eyes alight with barely leashed rage. She now knew why he was called Lord of Fire. It was evident in those deep-set brown eyes.

Great, she was already starting to go insane.

“Sleep well?” He chuckled, taking a few steps back from her. She didn’t know why, it wasn’t like she could reach him with her arms chained above her head.

“Go fuck yourself.” She spat, spittle flying from her chapped lips.

“So much fire in you, even after we’ve put most of it out.” Beron hummed. “Be good and listen, and maybe my sons won’t visit you tonight.”

Ophelia shut her mouth, biting down on her tongue so hard it drew blood. She didn’t think she could stand another visit from his twisted sons. That would be her final breaking point.

Her fae healing could only do so much to the burn scars around her wrists and ankles.

“Very good. Now,” He cleared his throat. “There once was a little flame princess, who stole the heart of her entire kingdom. She was the youngest of the king's children, having several elder brothers. And when her powers started developing, there was something different about them. They were too bright, burned too hot. So the king went to the queen, asking how this could happen? How could his daughter have the power of light when they were fire?” He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning her face.

“That’s when the king learned that the little flame princess was instead, a little sun princess. That his queen had tricked him into raising not one but two bastard children, right under his nose.”

“So your wife fucked another male, what does this have to do with me?” Ophelia muttered.

Beron inched towards her, a sick and twisted smile spread across his face, unnerving her. “Everything.”

She laughed. Yeah, Ophelia was definitely going crazy.

“The king was torn on what to do. See, he had come to love his little sun princess. But her blood was not his. So, he locked her in a tower, high away from everyone. Determined to keep her safe and secure. He would send his true children in to keep her company from time to time, but soon the king learned that they had scared his beautiful sun princess. She was ugly, littered with hideous scars that no magic would heal or hide.”

Ophelia felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the room from spinning but images flashed behind her eyelids. Images that were too bright and vivid to just be her imagination.

“To end her suffering, the king finally set the little princess free. He let her roam his kingdom for a bit before setting his hounds out. But alas, she has been spirited away to the kingdom of his enemies, a dark and nightmarish kingdom.”

“Stop.” Ophelia wheezed.

“And just when the king was almost done healing from his pain, he found her on the outskirts of his kingdom. A spy.”

The hot hands of the Autumn Court Lord wrapped around her throat, cutting off her airway. Heat danced at his finger tips, searing her skin, charring her pale flesh.

“A spying whore for the Court of Nightmares.”

His hand curled tighter around her throat, and she was sure he was going to break her neck.

“You’re insane.” Ophelia gasped, eyes meeting his. They burned with such hatred that she was sure this was it. He would bring her death.

“Little princess, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

With his free hand, he reached toward his jewel encrusted belt. He pulled on the hilt of a dagger, which had the pattern and swirls of the Autumn Court sigil on the gleaming blade. A blade made of ashwood.

Without even blinking, he plunged the dagger into her side, to the hilt. Pain exploded from the area, her vision going out momentarily. Her instincts kicked in, trying to overwrite the pain by blocking it out. But it was too much, too overwhelming.

Ophelia screamed, her voice going hoarse as she thrashed against the pain, and against his hold on her throat. Her body went into survival mode, bucking and kicking the best she could to get away, to get away from the pain.

“You will die here, just as you were born here.” Beron snarled, finally releasing her throat.

Gasping and sputtering, she tried to reach for the dagger with her bound hands. But she couldn’t reach it. Blood poured freely from her wound, coating the floor. A sliver of thought returned to her and she glared up at Beron, her entire body twitching.

“I…” Blood bubbled out of her mouth and dribbled down her chin. “Will fucking kill you.”

The last thing Ophelia heard was the sound of laughter as Beron left her cell, the sound echoing in the darkness.