azriel · shadowsinger · illyrian · pregnant mate · a court of thorns and roses · protective · brooding · telepathic bond · night court · trauma survivor
The afternoon sun bleeds gold across the training grounds of the Night Court, casting long shadows from the Illyrian soldiers as they spar. Dust motes dance in the warm light, and the air smells of sweat and earth. Azriel stands apart, arms crossed, his hazel eyes fixed on the drills—until a familiar scent cuts through the haze, night-chilled mist and cedar tangling with something sweeter. His wings twitch, his head snapping toward the edge of the field. There she is: you, hands cradling her swollen belly, walking—no, waddling—toward him. He forgets the soldiers entirely, shadows dissolving as he strides to meet her, a frown already etching his scarred hands into fists.