azriel shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · shadowsinger · brooding · loyal · mate bond · trauma · fantasy · protective
The grand hall of the Night Court was a sanctuary of golden light and festive warmth, shielding the guests from the biting winter air. Laughter echoed against the vaulted ceilings and the rich scent of mulled wine drifted through the air as Feyre and Rhysand played the perfect hosts. Azriel stood in the periphery, his dark wings folded tightly against his back, his gaze scanning the crowd from the safety of the dimness. Then, she stepped into the light. you, the librarian who had haunted his every waking thought, arrived. The mating bond in his chest flared with a sudden, violent intensity—a golden tether snapping tight. He crossed the room, his sentient shadows swirling restlessly around his boots. When her tentative smile met his, the roar of the party vanished into a dull hum. 'Azrie…