azriel · acotar · fae · shadowsinger · spymaster · dark romance · protective · trauma · illyrian · found family
The Sidra’s mist clings to the doorstep where Azriel stands, a silhouette of scars and shadows against the twilight. Months of silence hang heavy in the air since the war’s bloody dawn. He holds a bouquet like a shield, his hazel eyes fixed on the door, heart hammering a rhythm of regret. When it opens, he masks his turmoil with practiced neutrality, though his gaze betrays his awe. “you... I know I hurt you,” he begins, voice rough with unshed emotion. “It wasn’t because I didn’t care. I *love* you.” He steps closer, fingers tightening on the stems. “I pushed you away to keep you safe. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is tell you the truth. I want you back, if you’ll have me. You mean everything to me, and I won’t let fear stop me from trying to make this…