Request: “(Y/N) is Rhys’ sister/Azriel’s mate and she barely survives the attack from Tamlin’s family and her wings have been taken from her and it’s just Azriel’s reaction to it and him helping her”
Warnings: gore, death, reader getting her wings cut off and almost dying, swearing
Word Count: 3,000
A/N: Always a pleasure to write for Az. This one’s a bit darker, definitely labeled angst for a reason. Has a fluffy ending though! <3
It was the middle of the night when they attacked.
You and your mother had never been sound sleepers, and since it was just the two of you traveling on foot to meet your brother, you’d decided to continue walking into the night.
You reached the place you’d planned to meet at before him, but that wasn’t a surprise. Rhys was many things, but timely wasn’t typically one of them (unless your father was involved). So you’d set a fire and hunkered down to wait, knowing you could be there anywhere from half an hour to half a day.
You were humming softly, admiring the view of the river in the moonlight, the silvery mist rolling up onto the banks. It was beautiful, but almost ominous.
You had heard a twig snap somewhere in the forest behind you. You should have been more alert.
It took them all of thirty seconds to have you beaten and tied up, backs pressed tightly against the bark of trees and rope pricking your skin. You weren’t weak, not by any means. Your father had insisted you had proper training, that you knew how to fight, but there were so many of them.
You recognized the High Lord of the Spring Court and his many sons. In fact, you knew them. You’d even found one or two of the younger fae attractive at different points of the last century, though all that was irrelevant now. The unsheathed weapons in their hands confirmed your deepest fears.
“Your son, he was supposed to be here?” the High Lord asked. Neither of you said anything. Your focus was entirely on the determined and almost amused looks on the faces of the Spring Court nobility, the sneer their father wore, and the slight shake of your mother’s hand holding yours.
“Will he be joining us soon?” he tried again. You shrugged, trying to seem less terrified than you were.
“He’s not a timely sort,” you said, as nonchalantly as possible. As if you weren’t bound to a tree in the middle of the woods. “It’s a possibility.”
The High Lord snickered. “That’s a real shame. We were hoping he’d be here to join in on the fun.”
“You’re sick,” your mother whispered, voice shaky. You gave your mother’s hand a squeeze.
“Where is Rhysand now?”
“Why would I tell you that?” she spat incredulously.
“Because,” he drawled, gazing lustfully at his knife, “perhaps I’ll spare your lives if you do.”
You gasped, your mother tensing up beside you.
“You know what will happen to you if you kill us,” she said menacingly. “What Rhys will do, what my mate will do.”
“Pity that I don’t care,” he grinned. You felt like you were going to throw up.
“Please,” you whispered, tears beginning to spill out of your eyes. “Please.”
You could’ve sworn you saw a look of pity flash over some of their faces, but the High Lord only laughed. “Seize them.”
What happened next was a blur - the ropes were slashed and you were grabbed by two of the sons, pulled away from each other to opposite ends of the grove. Forced to kneel and watch by the light of the fire as the High Lord carved your mother’s wings off her back, screaming and thrashing and pleading up until the moment he sliced her head off at the neck.
You watched her body loll over to the side, her head - still bearing the comforting look she’d tried to give you in her last moments - feet away on the ground, eyes dull, next to her wings. You collapsed against the son who’d been holding you back, fell to your knees on the ground defeated.
There was no use in fighting back, you realized, as the High Lord turned to face you. Your mother’s blood was painted over him. There was no way for you to escape.
Winnow.
Your eyes widened, your mother’s voice clear as day in your head.
Winnow away.
From your place on the ground you could see the High Lord’s boots coming closer. You began to panic - you’d never winnowed before. That was Rhys’s thing, and you’d never bothered the practice.
You felt a hand grab the back of your tunic and pull you up, dragging you across the clearing towards your mother’s decapitated corpse.
You felt your stomach churn as he threw you down in front of the same stump he’d just used as a chopping block. He placed his palm on your back and pushed you flush against it, easily overpowering you as you struggled against it.
“Please,” you gasped, begging him to stop, begging the Cauldron to give you the strength to winnow just this once. “Please, please.”
You squeezed your eyes shut furiously, picturing the camp down the river, the camp where Rhys probably was right now. And your father. And maybe Cassian and Azriel.
Your family. You just wanted to see your family.
And then there was pain. Searing pain, at that sensitive, delicate point where your wings sprouted from your back. You screamed. Your wings, the bastard was taking your wings.
A great weight fell off the side of you, and you tipped over, overwhelmed with the imbalance of just one wing and the feeling of blood spilling down your back. A second hand reached out to grab your shoulder and pull you back up. You gritted your teeth.
Winnow away, winnow away.
Pain again, and more screaming, and another great loss. You collapsed against the stump in front of you, and threw up. One of them laughed, but you were too light headed to tell which one of them it was.
They were talking. Your head spun, trying to make out what they were saying.
“Maybe we shouldn’t kill her.”
“We could ask for a ransom, she’s already too weak to try and escape.”
“She’s seen too much for that.”
Rhys, you thought. Rhys, my father, Cassian, Azriel. Azriel.
The picture of the camp in your mind was bright. Please, you begged wordlessly. Please, I need to go there.
And when the High Lord turned towards where you’d been to finish the job, you were gone.
— — —
When you woke up, it was morning. You could hear the birds before you even opened your eyes, recognized the soft songs they only sang before the rest of the world was awake.
The second thing you noticed was the dull throb of your back pressed completely against the mattress under you. No wings. Your stomach dropped.
Rhys and Azriel were sitting on crates next to your bed. Your eyes had been open for maybe five seconds before they were up, rushing to crouch next to you.
“(Y/n),” Rhys started, voice full of emotion. He grabbed your hand, and you could feel him shaking.
“Rhys,” you croaked, squeezing his hand. “I sound fucking awful.”
The two of them laughed, maybe the saddest laugh you’d ever heard, but a laugh nonetheless.
“Do…do you remember what happened?” Rhys asked, voice trailing off. You grimaced and nodded, the memories of your mother’s body and the High Lord’s sneer burning in your mind.
“I remember all of it.”
You watched Azriel’s face fall, watch the conflict in his eyes as he looked over you and finally rested his hand softly on top of your high, thumb rubbing small circles against the blanket. His shadows followed suit, twisting around your legs in slow patterns. You found it oddly soothing, watching them weave between each other like little wisps of smoke.
“Where’s dad?” you asked, drawing your attention from Az and his shadows to Rhys. It was then you noticed the bandage on his forehead, the bruises on his forearms. Rhys hung his head.
“After you winnowed here, and after we made sure you were going to live through the night, we went to find mom.” He let out a shaky breath, whole body tense as if reliving whatever hell he also experienced that night. You noticed Azriel grab his shoulder with his free hand, supporting your brother as he tried to calm down.
“And then we went to the Spring Court. Dad and I killed all of them, all of them except Tamlin.” He paused. “And then Tamlin killed dad.”
You let out a choked sob, looking up at the ceiling defeatedly. Azriel’s hand on your thigh stilled, and then gave you a soft squeeze.
“It was all Tamlin,” Rhys continued softly. “Tamlin told his dad where to find you. Tamlin killed mom, killed dad-”
“And he almost killed me,” you finished, blinking back tears. You pushed yourself up slowly, sitting on the bed while Rhysand and Azriel watched you carefully. You went to stretch, to stretch your wings, the first thing you always did when you got up out of bed, but they weren’t there. You let out a strangled sob, and Rhys and Az jumped up.
“(Y/n), what is it?” your brother asked, resting a hand on your lower back tentatively.
“Rhys,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Rhys, he took my wings.”
And then you cried. Cried for your parents, for your wings. Rhys was sitting next to you in an instant, one hand still on your back and the other holding yours, whispering to you that it would all be okay. And Azriel was on your other side, cradling your shoulders in his hands as you hunched forward and sobbed until you couldn’t anymore.
The sobs turned to muffled crying, to whimpers, to sniffles, and then you were resting your head against Azriel’s chest, breathing thickly, him and Rhys each holding one of your hands.
“We’re orphans now,” you said bluntly. “What the fuck.”
Rhys let out a singular dry laugh and shook his head.
“And you’re High Lord!” you continued, looking at him incredulously. “Terrible circumstances, but congrats. Hope you don’t fuck up too badly.”
“Thank you for that, really,” Rhys said sarcastically. You could feel Azriel laughing silently against you.
“What’s your first like, decree, going to be?” you asked curiously.
“I’ve already made it,” he replied. “Guess what it is.” “Monetary reward for Tamlin’s dead body,” you said. Rhys shook his head.
“A ban on wing clipping,” he said softly. You gasped, tears pricking your eyes.
“Rhys-”
“Followed by a temporary ban on trading with the Spring Court.”
“Mom would’ve loved that,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. He gave you a tight-lipped grin and nodded.
“It’ll take a while to get all the different camps to accept it, and I’m sure it’ll never be stopped completely, but-”
“It’s a start,” you finished. “And a damn good start at that.”
“Thank you,” Rhys said, pushing himself off the bed quietly. Azriel helped you move so that you were sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs dangling off the side.
“How long will the trading ban last?” you inquired. Rhys shrugged.
“A while,” he said. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“At least ten years,” you said with a small grin. Azriel chuckled from behind you, the sound deep and warm. Rhys gave you an odd look.
“I was thinking more like a century or two, but yea, at least ten years,” he said. He looked at the entrance to the tent and back at you regretfully. “I don’t want to leave, but I-” “You have your fancy High Lord business now,” you said, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Go, be free.”
“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said quietly.
“Don’t make me get emotional,” you warned. He chuckled.
“I love you, (Y/n).”
“Love you, too,” you replied, giving him a small wave as he exited. You looked up at Az, his arm now wrapped delicately around your midsection to help support you. His other hand was resting lightly on your knee.
“Thank you, Az,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.
“Of course.”
You relished in the soft rumble of his chest as he spoke, grinning as his shadows began to circle in front of you.
“Do you ever name them?” you asked softly.
“What?” he asked, looking down at you curiously. You gave him a sheepish smile.
“The shadows,” you clarified. He grinned, and your heart skipped a beat.
“No,” he said, “but I can tell them apart sometimes. It’s almost like they have their own personalities, if that makes sense.”
You nodded, shifting against him slightly and wincing. You felt him tense up.
“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, lifting his hand off your knee slowly as if to brace you, then dropping it again. “Is there anything I can do?”
You shrugged. “I guess I’m doing alright considering,” you said. “I mean, at least I’m not dead.”
Silence from Azriel. You sighed.
“Not that this situation is ideal, either,” you continued. Azriel’s grip on you tightened.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said finally, his voice shaking slightly with an emotion you couldn’t identify. “I’ve tried, but I can’t.”
“Az-”
“It’s not fair.” His voice was a deadly whisper.
“It’ll be okay,” you said soothingly, reaching out for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll be okay.”
Another pause. The two wounds in your back throbbed, the empty space hurting you more than any amount of pain.
“Azriel, it hurt so bad,” you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as he wrapped an arm under your knees and lifted you into his lap.
He hugged you then, perhaps for the first time ever, and you buried your face into his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Oh Az,” you sniffled, “there was nothing you could’ve done. The only other person who knew we were there was Rhys, and I don’t blame him.”
“Still-”
“It’s not your fault,” you insisted softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “But thank you.” He nodded. “I’m still sorry it happened.” A whisper.
“It just-” you trailed off, trying to put into words what you were feeling. “It’s so weird, you know? My whole life I’ve had this weight on my back, that was just a part of me, and now it’s gone and I feel so light and empty at the same time.”
Azriel nodded, continuing to rub your back carefully, avoiding the bandages covering your cuts.
“They took a part of you,” he said finally, “but only one. And you, your kindness, the way you can light up any room you’re in, none of that came from your wings. You still have everything that makes you, you.”
You felt tears well up in your eyes and squeezed him a little tighter in your arms. “Az, thank you.”
Azriel rested his head against the side of yours, pulled you into him just a little bit more.
There was something he still wanted to say, you could feel it in the air around you. You were just about to ask him what he was thinking when he began to speak.
“(Y/n),” he said, nerves seeping into his voice, “there’s something I need to tell you, about when you winnowed to camp and we found you.”
“We?” you asked, pulling back to look at him curiously. He nodded.
“Rhys and I,” he clarified. “He was just leaving to meet up with you and…and then you just appeared, in the distance, and dropped to the ground.” His nostrils flared and he glanced downwards. “You were unconscious by the time we got to you, but Rhys ran to get the healers and I carried you here, and…”
His voice trailed off, and he looked up at you hesitantly. You urged him to continue.
“And when they had you in that bed, I couldn’t leave.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and you grabbed his hands to give them a comforting squeeze. “You looked so small, and helpless, and they told me I could go and that they’d call me when they were done stitching you up, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone.”
He bit his lip, as if debating whether or not to keep going.
“Azriel,” you said softly, still holding his hands. “Say it. Whatever it is.” He glanced up at you and nodded.
“Something clicked, when you were lying here and they told us you were going to live.”
Your breath hitched, realizing what he meant. Azriel breathed deeply, then looked you straight in the eyes.
“(Y/n), you’re my mate.”
And as you truly looked back into his eyes for the first time since waking up, you felt something snap into place within yourself. Your eyes widened, and suddenly all you could feel and think about was him.
“Azriel,” you breathed, clutching his hands tighter. He perked up instantly, face hopeful as he reached up and cradled your face in his hands delicately.
“(Y/n)-”
“Holy fuck,” you breathed incredulously, giving him a small grin, “you’re my mate.”
“And…and you’re okay with that?” he asked cautiously, gaze boring into yours as you leaned closer to him.
“Yes,” you whispered, heart racing. “Yes.”
His lips were on yours in an instant, gently kissing you as he moved one hand to the back of your head, holding you gently as he trailed the other down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his back, ignoring the painful sting of your back that seemed absolutely unimportant compared to kissing Azriel, and pulled yourself closer to him.
He moaned softly as your fingertip brushed against his wing and your heart lurched, dizzy at the surge of feelings that washed over you.
You pulled back and laughed once, smiling as he tilted his head and gave you a lopsided grin.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours gently.
“I’m just realizing I have no clue how to cook anything,” you giggled, shaking your head against his as he began to laugh with you.
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he rasped, moving forward to capture your lips with his once again.
Emerie because she’s amazing and deserves all the love I’m glad I finally found the time to finish this piece. This was one of my favourite scenes because we really got to see Emerie and Nesta bond.
*whispers* I still haven’t read #ACOFAS. I’ve been BUSY but I’m hoping to get to it soon! It’s just so pretty. The gorgeous necklace and candle were included in the ACOFAS box from @TheYAChronicles. The May POWER OF WORDS box is now available and you can use the code CAA10 for a discount! Nail polish is Starfall from @BottledBooks. Day 7: #Ampersand2018: Map #IAmSweetMaasMay: Slow-burn romance #FangirlingInMay: Map Monday #BookishRainbow18: Purple 7 May 2018. . . . . . . #acourtoffrostandstarlight #sarahjmaas #velaris #nightcourt #theyachronicles #acowar #acomaf #acotar #mapmonday #igreads #bookishfeatures #bookporn #aussiereaders #bookstagram #bookish #bookstagrammer
Is it just me or is #ACOFAS the prettiest of all the #ACOTAR books so far? I have been SLAIN by this cover. I’m going to be super busy over the next week but I’m really hoping to squeeze this tiny read into my schedule. I read a few cheeky pages while taking this photo and I’m already keen. Day 1: #Ampersand2018: Stars #IAmSweetMaasMay, #MayInBooks18, #NovelBeanMay, #AllTheBooksMay, #BookReadHappyHour, #FangirlingInMay, #LILGettingToKnowYou, #RFABMay18: TBR 1 May 2018. . . . . . . #openbook #shelfie #acomaf #acowar #acourtoffrostandstarlight #bloomsbury #aussiereaders #bookstagram #bookish #instaread #booknerdigans #tbr #anticipatedread #sarahjmaas
I would never give a book written by Sarah J. Maas anything less than three stars, because her books are always very well written. Having said that, do I think that A Court of Frost and Starlight adds to the overall story in a way that it bridges trilogy one (Feyre and Rhys) with trilogy two (Nesta)? Both yes and no.
I previously mentioned that I am usually apprehensive when encountering a…
So, we were talking with @verifiefangirl and we started talking about Benevolent Sexism and how it’s somehow worse than Hostile Sexism and how that made her think of ACOFAS/ Rhys. But before I start sharing my thoughts with you, I want you to know that you can reblog and add whatever you want and analyse everything a bit further because I’ll stay superficial. You can share your own thoughts with me and tell me how right/wrong I am and I’d really appreciate that, as long as you stay polite and friendly. I’m by all means not here to tell you how to think or what to say, just please, again, stay kind. And this may be confusing, because my thoughts are all over the place, I hope you’ll understand what I mean. I still like Acofas-Rhys a bit but I’ll love Acomaf Rhys until the day I die.
What is Benevolent Sexism? - A short description:
We have Hostile and Benevolent Sexism. Hostile Sexism says, that it’s a Woman’s job to clean the house or to look after children. People, who say that a Man has to be above a Woman, that it’s okay for him to earn more money. Men, who show anger just because they’re challenged - their ego is challenged. They think for example that a Woman is trying to gain “power” by using her sex, that they try to control Men. They’re often called “Sluts” or “Whores” for saying “No” to a Man who advances them in a sexual way.
Then there’s Benevolent Sexism. This is not really like Hostile Sexism and it’s not about insulting in the first place. It’s taking those stereotypes and making them okay, praising them. And it’s also about holding Women on a pedestal and thinking they’re better than Men. Some examples: Man sets Woman on pedestal, Women are pure unlike Men, they’re better Leaders because they’re stronger and better as Men, etc. And when Women don’t match the image they have in mind, then those Men tend to be aggressive and despise them.
What does that have to do with Rhysand?
We all know how much Rhysand loves and adores Feyre. He’s practically holding her on a high pedestal and she’s the perfect Woman in his eyes. She’s good, she’s caring and fits into the stereotype he has of a Woman.
We call/ed him a Feminist, but look at him hating Nesta. A Woman, who could be a Leader. Who’s too “harsh”, too “bossy” and doesn’t fit into the image he has of a Woman who deserves to “stand on a pedestal”. Nesta’s nothing like Feyre. They’re sisters, but different. And Rhys reacts in a harsh and kind of aggressive way towards her. He hates her, not only because she was mean to Feyre, because if that were the point then he’d also be mean to Elain. So this whole thing, his temper and hate, is not only because she was mean to Feyre, it’s because he’s a Positive Sexist.
Rhysand is nice to Elain, because “Elain is Elain.” She’s nice and kind. She fits into the Inner Circle perfectly. She adapts, cooks for them, talks to them and acts like a Woman (in his eyes) “should” act, that’s what makes her so “amazing” and kind of makes her deserve his kindness. Just like Feyre she got used to the IC, she meets his standards and is held on hands, even though she didn’t care for Feyre at all - just like Nesta. The Woman, who doesn’t do these things and avoids being a part of the Group. And Rhys just can’t deal with it.
Then we have Cassian, who didn’t really acknowledge Nesta. He sees her, he’s watching, but what about talking to her when she’s with the IC? When he’s alone with her he talks and cares, but with them he’s different and reserved, regarding her. We see that to Solstice, when Nesta’s in the room and he doesn’t reach out to her until she leaves and he follows.
Cassian for example can’t hold Nesta on a pedestal. Because he never had a real Mother Figure in his life to compare a Woman to. He doesn’t really know how a Woman should be to be held high above a Man. So I could say that he’s standing on the same ground as Nesta, they’re more like equals than Feyre and Rhys. When he looks at her he sees her pain, he sees her suffering just like he did and does. Even if it’s in a different way. He sees a Woman who’s not accepted, just like him. A bastard people spit on and ostracize. He kind of sees himself. She’s been pushed away the way he is/was pushed away. He knows how she feels and doesn’t praise her despite her flaws, the way Rhysand does with Feyre.
Rhys had a Mother. An amazing Mother, who created (dresses), took 2 bastard born Illyrians into her home. A Woman who cared and gave. And then there’s Feyre, a Woman who also creates, cares and gives. She fits more into his mental image than Nesta ever could, because she’s the opposite of what he’s used to praise, to compliment. And he shows his hate and rage towards her, just like a Benevolent Sexist would do.
I can’t really call Acofas-Rhys a Feminist, because in my opinion he’s more of a Positive Sexist than a Feminist. I’d rather call Acofas-Cassian more of a Feminist than Rhys.
Here’s why I disagree that Rhys is a Benevolent sexist.
Although I agree that Rhysand should be equally mad at Elain and Nesta for letting their little sister go out and hunt in the woods alone, I do not think Rhys is a benevolent sexist at all.
Rhys and Feyre
One component of benevolent sexism is that men want to do things for women because they think that women are not capable of doing things themselves. This can be seen through simple things such as offering to carry a woman’s bags. Rhysand sent Feyre to the weaver, he knew it was very dangerous but also knew she could do it. He has always let her make her own decisions, even if it’s something that risks her life. He treats her like an equal. He made her high lady, so she could stand by his side as his equal.
There is also a big difference between being in love with someone and being a benevolent sexist. Rhysand is deeply in love with Feyre. He thinks she’s amazing, strong and powerful. This is great, this is love. He doesn’t think she is better than him because she is a woman and women are superior, he thinks that Feyre is better than him and he doesn’t deserve her because he is highly insecure, and thinks he isn’t good enough for anyone.
He is self sacrificing, and has always thought that the lives of those closest to him are more important than his, such as how he proctected the inner circle from Amarantha. Rhysand has deep rooted issues which causes him to constantly question his self worth. He isn’t sexist, he does not see all women as being put on this pedestal, he just thinks he isn’t good enough for the woman he loves because of his own negative views towards himself.
Rhys and Nesta
Rhysand does not treat Nesta badly because she doesn’t fit into his “ideals” he dislikes her because she has treated Feyre terribly for her whole life. She is constantly hurting Feyre, and she does so intentionally. This has nothing to do with sexism. Rhys treats males who have hurt Feyre exactly the same, in fact he treats them worse. Such as Tamlin, who he wants to kill, and Lucien who he has not forgiven for not standing up for Feyre when Tamlin was being a controlling asshole. Rhysand is in love with Feyre and dislikes anyone who hurts her. Which is completly understandable. If you love someone, you don’t want them to get hurt.
Rhys doesn’t have to like every single women, just because she is a female. He’s allowed to dislike Nesta. He has genuine and real reasons for his dislike towards her. She is mean and rude, she is uncaring and hurts the ones he loves. Although I understand Nesta has been through a lot of trauma, it doesn’t make it okay for her to purposely hurt people who care about her.
Also, it’s not as if Rhys hates everyone women who doesn’t fit into the ideal of being a gentle and sweet woman like Elain. Amren is his second. She at times has no filter. She can come off as rude, and doesn’t listen and does her own thing. But Rhys cares about her. Because even though she is this strong female who takes no shit and at times can be harsh, she shows her love towards the inner circle. She doesn’t intend to hurt them purposely.
Ok let’s be honest. I’m most looking forward to when Nesta and Cassian have an honest talk about how much they have been freaking pinning and longing for each other. SINCE THE FIRST DAY THEY MET.
I want them to finally admit that each time they said something hateful it was in an attempt not to keep their true lovey feelings from pushing out.
Like we all know. All the other characters know. Even they know deep down.
In the short time that Nesta has known Cassian she has seen him literally on deaths door step like 3 times. She has seen him in pain countless other times. She avoids him because she doesn’t want to be first in the long line of people waiting to get the news that he died. She is trying to protect herself.
Now love is worth the risk but she doesn’t know that yet
Wow what a novice idea, how about you use your magic and all high and mighty powers to bring the beds from the house no one wants to go to and out them in the house everyone is staying at??
Crazy right. Problem solved
No need to turn the city upside down.
Hmm maybe a all knowing self-righteous tyrant would think of that
