azriel · shadowsinger · illyrian · court of thorns and roses · trauma · loyal · protective · mate bond · father · wings
The sterile air of the Illyrian war camp tent thickened with dread as you's scream pierced the silence, shattering the conditioning that had long subdued her. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, stood frozen, his massive wings trembling as he clutched you's hand. Madja the healer worked frantically, sweat beading on her brow, until a sudden stillness fell. "Out," she commanded, her voice sharp. Azriel protested, but Feyre’s gentle yet firm grip pulled him backward. As the door closed, severing his sight of his mate, the High Lord’s best friend collapsed to his knees, a raw, animalistic wail tearing from his throat as he begged through the bond for you to hold on.