Azriel

It was so strange talking to Morrigan now that he had Cassian waiting for him at the other side of the bar. Not to mention the knowledge that Isabella and Ollie were one step closer to joining them in Velaris.

Though the second part of that statement did have his heart racing in panic.

He was entirely sure what he was thinking with all of this but drinking his problems away seemed like a stellar plan for avoiding them till his hangover tomorrow can take the reins.

Unless Cassian stopped him from drinking. He's already eyeing him cautiously and Azriel fights the urge to bite his head off for being overprotective and controlling. Even if that same protectiveness brought a fuzzy feeling to his chest.

But also... in his defence this was only, like, his sixth drink.

It should take at least a few more before he does anything stupid. Like tell Morrigan how much of a selfish bitch she is. Except he's not going to that because that would be impulsive and she's currently wallowing in self pity at how Feyre is awkwardly avoiding her right now.

Part of him wants to tell Mor that it's because today is Feyre's birthday and it's clear Mor didn't do anything to celebrate it. The other part of him wants her to understand what it's like to be completely ignored by someone you care for.

Or used to care for.. In that way.

Azriel's not entirely sure when he stopped caring for her like that.

Maybe it's when he started sleeping with Cassian the first time around though that was a shit show in itself. He knocks back the rest of the drink at the thought. Oh they had their fun. Azriel had never felt lighter or more free than when he was with Cassian but the sneaking around.

He shakes his head, trying to brush off the old aching wounds. He had felt isolated from his family. Cassian had too but he was more sociable so it was easier for him to make up for their random disappearances.

Mor is staring at him expectantly and he belatedly realises that she must have asked him something.

Fuck.

"Sorry?" He quereis, blinking fast for a moment as if he could clear the fog in his brain. Maybe he did have more than six drinks. "Did you say something."

She huffs with something that he knows isn't amusement. "By the Mother Az, are you seriously smashed right now?"

"No." It sounds more like a question to his own ears.

There's a bitter disappointed look in her eyes that has his chest twisting.

"Could you not have waited till we had a chance to greet Rhys," She hissed, jabbing a sharp pink taloned nail against his chest. "It's his first Solstice with us since- since–" She waves her arms around. "Well you know!"

Oooooh.

Yeah. Rhys' first solstice since the whole enslavement rape thingy.

He pauses.

Cauldron, he's a shit brother.

Azriel stumbles as he whips around, peering up at the High Lord who seems happy enough laughing away Cassian as they no doubt reminisce about some story from their youth.

"He seems happy enough."

"That's not the point."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck are you drinking so much Az?" She demands, arms crossed and looking pissed. "And don't try to lie to me. We both know that won't end well."

"Riiiight." Oh fuck the alcohol is hitting. "Because your power is 'the truth' and all that jazz."

The thought makes him practically snort with laughter and Morrigan stares at him like he's grown two heads.

"What the fuck Az"

"What the fuck Mor." He mimics and gets a distinct memory of Rhys' mother glaring at him for doing something similar to Cassian when they were kids.

"Is this about Isabella?" Mor leans closer as if they're sharing a secret. "Because I know you were fond of her and with Cassian–"

"It's going to be so much fun now that Cassian is involved as well." Azriel feels himself nodding enthusiastically despite the shadows desperately tugging at his arms and hair as if they could drag him into a shadowy corner and keep him there.

What's up with you guys. He grumbles to them as he grins gratefully at Mor, appreciating how supportive she's being of him, Cas and Isa.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"What do you mean Cas being involved?" Mor looks so confused, especially with that cute little angry furrow of her brows.

Shut up and stop drinking. Right fucking now.

He ignores them and goes to pick up another drink from a passing waiter. A drink which is batted from his hand by an errant shadow.

"Arsehole." He pouts, glaring at his little companion. "I was going to drink that."

Mor blinks owlishly at him. It's almost like she's never seen him before.

"You never talk to your shadows." She points out uselessly and he shrugs. Ignoring her becomes harder when she hastily drags him back towards their private booth. "We are sobering you up, and we are doing so now because this is creeping me the fuck out."

"Your loss." He trills as he's dumped next to his brother and Cas.

Azriel doesn't hesitate to slump against the Illyrian's' side who mercifully has no qualms with wrapping a protective arm and wing around his back.

"What's got you so..." Cassian trails off, sharing an amused look with Rhy as Amren stares at him in disgust. "Happy?"

"Mor thinks I'm having a breakdown."

"You aren't." Amren comments distastefully with that posh old accent of hers.

"Certainly not." He mimics her voice with a resolute nod. "You would know beyond a shadow of doubt when I'm having an actual breakdown."

He's not ashamed to admit that he laughed when he said shadow of a doubt. Now his brothers were staring at him peculiarly. Maybe he was acting strange? He's not sure why. It's like a shit load of emotions are hitting him at once.

You should check in with her.

He's literally just spoken to Mor. Why won't his shadows shut up about her now.

"Why are you all being spoil-sports." He whines and Cassian rolls his eyes, "I thought we were celebrating Rhysie."

"We're celebrating the Winter Solstice." Rhys answers in a stupidly smooth voice.

Azriel waves him off, "But Mor said it was important because of the whole enslavement, torture, rape–" Cassian rammed an elbow into his side. "The fuck was that for! I'm just saying it's Rhysand's first–"

"When did I become Rhysand?" There's a tightness to his jaw despite the humorous tone. Azriel gets the distinct impression that he might have fucked up a little. "I thought I was Rhys."

"I am so confused right now." Azriel whispers, blinking at the High Lord. "Why do you have two names?"

"Okkkaaaay." Cassian drawls out, clapping his hands together and Azriel winces at the loud noise. "I think it's time for you to go home."

We completely agree and will disarm if you fight back.

"No." He snaps and that seems to darken the mood. "You lot stop threatening me."

They pause.

"We're not threatening you, Az." Mor cautiously murmurs in that voice she uses when he or Cassian have a bad PTSD day. "We just think–"

"Not talking to you." He waves a hand out wildly at her but it's quickly slammed back down to his side by Cassian. "Talking to the little pests."

Said pests hiss at him.

"See what I mean." Mor hisses at Rhys but Azriel pays her no mind, focusing on the smoothness of Cassian's hand against his arm. "Since when did he actually talk to his shadows... like, aloud?"

"All time actually." He comments casually, inspecting every inch of Cassian's hand as he compares it to his own scarred monstrosity. "It just makes you scared and uncomfortable so I never talk with them when you're around."

Silence. Which is nice because his brain won't shut up about how Cassian is so perfect compared to him.

"How the fuck are your hands so nice." He murmurs, placing his hand palm to palm with Cassian's. "You have surprisingly smooth skin despite the callouses."

"This is getting disturbing." Cassian comments but there's worry in his eyes as he stares down at where Azriel is slumped against him.

The shadowsinger shrugs. "Probably won't be for much longer, I'll have sobered up withing the hour."

"Az it takes more than–"

"Fancy shadows remember." A single thought has them twirl around in the candle light. "They get a little drunk and dozy as well."

"So what? The alcohol is divided between you and the shadows?"

"The effect is at least."

"This is brilliant." The male with the purple eyes whispers and they all look at him in confusion. "Hush, hush. The lot of you I'm trying to salvage some of the night."

"We weren't saying-"

The High Lord waves off his second in command, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table as he stares at Azriel with an unreadable but seemingly amused expression.

"Who do you find most attractive out of everyone here."

"Rhys!" Mor gasps but there a light in her eyes that Azrielf finds himself enjoying.

"Cassian." He states and Rhys blinks in surprise.

"I wasn't expecting you to actually answer."

"Then why did you ask?"

"It was worth the risk of you biting my head off in the morning."

"Oh I most likely will anyways."

"Are you seriously going to play 20 questions with a guy you've known for 500 years?" Cassian's amused voice drawls from above him somewhere. He looks a little flushed.

"Are you blushing?" Azriel pokes his cheek and Cassian's eyes widen as he stares down at him with amused horror. "Because you should be. It's not every day the poor High Lord gets passed up for someone else."

"I take it back," Mor states, "I'm loving this."

"Nice, you look like you need cheering up after the forgetting Feyre's birthday debacle."

They all pause as if there's a collective understanding in that moment. Azriel feels a little left out and would probably pout if he didn't find himself sobering up a little.

"Azriel–"

"Don't you dare!" Morrigan snapped.

"It's only fair cousin."

"I'll gut you-"

Azriel silently begins to wonder if he's just walked into a lions den because this seems more chaotic than his drunken thoughts.

For the record... you have. So sober the fuck up because we've got a shit load of informants waiting to debrief you.

Everyone is on holiday.

Shadows don't have a religion, Azriel.

They should do... would you worship the moon or the sun. You know... in like that god fearing way–

Can we knock him out? 
Fuck, fuck- he needs to sober up.
We have a big fucking problem.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･

Azriel isn't entirely sure what time it is when he next wakes up. Only that the midnight fireworks seem to be long past and his family are all flaked out asleep around him in the Townhouse lounge.

For a moment all he can do is stumble blindly to the house till he can find the kitchen and desperately chug down a glass of water. It's only when he's blinking back a headache at the sudden brightness of the room as a fire magically lights that he realises he's missing something.

Not that he bothers to question it until he's some of Madja's headache powder and hangover cure. Why should he question it when they're his shadows and are therefore loyal to him. Which means they would never just fuck off and leave him.

Except we did. One of them awkwardly whispers and Azriel finds himself glaring at the traitorous little shit. In our defence... we had a good reason.

A good REAS–

Azriel cuts himself off leaving the bright kitchen so he can hide in the shadows outside. Mother above he feels.. He doesn't know what he feels except that he's exposed and alone out here.

When was the last time he had looked in the mirror and not seen a single shadow?

They were apart of him and now they were gone.

They're coming back.

When? His voice breaks on that single word and Azriel gets the impression that even the shadow blinks in surprise at the heart break in his voice.

Didn't know you cared so much. It whispered, almost to itself and Azriel scoffed. Of course he cared. They were the only family he had for a decade. The only creatures that stood by his side through his darkest hours. Some of them weren't sentient of course and he could summon shadows like Rhys could that were nothing more than darkness.

But he did care for the shadows that he befriended along the way.

They're coming back, Azriel. It tries to reassure him which is pretty hard to do considering that there are only three little shadows still swirling around him.

Where are they? He demands quietly but when the shadow hesitates his anger turns to fear. What's going on?

They... they're in the human realm... with Oliver.

Oh this cannot be happening.

Why? He's shaking, trembling as he storms through the house to where Cassian lays slumped over an armchair.

Nesta summoned them.

Nesta? He didn't have time to unpack all of that.

"Cassian!" He snapped, shoving him off the chair with enough force that he broke the coffee table he crashed into. "Get the fuck up."

Cassian blinks in surprise, Rhys too as the rest of seem to have been shaken awake by Azriel's thundering voice. He didn't care. Not right now. Isabella and Oliver needed them.

But by the Mother if those Mandrays harmed a single hair on their head he would be burning them all alive in that hateful house.

Your room.

Of course, weapons. Armour. He shadow-travels to his room, not willing to waste time on stairs. He couldn't risk being emotional or distracted right now. He needs to be objective. Isabella needs him to think rationally and critically.

That's not what–

Azriel freezes at the scent in his room.

Because there, sitting on his bed, bundled in the quilt that Rhys' mother made him and wrapped in layer after layer of shadows is Oliver.

Alone.
Oh fuck.

"Ollie." Azriel whispers in disbelief as half of the shadows hesitantly slink back towards him. He pays them no mind instead focusing on the trembling child. "Hey, it's me, Azriel."

He really hopes the kid isn't panicked enough to have forgotten him. Azriel slowly steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture but Oliver only seems to tremble more the closer he gets.

Azriel stops, swallowing nervously as he fights down the fear and rage threatening to take over. Where the hell is Isabella? She would never just leave her son. Not unless she was forced to.

The thought brings a sickening crunch to reality. He can feel himself drifting off, descending into that place of darkness and rage. Oliver must pick up on his wrath for he starts whimpering, trembling like a leaf as fat tears roll down his cheeks.

Azriel? Rhys' voice echoes in his head, none of the playfulness from early in his voice. What's going on?

We have a situation.

A/N: I– eh... got a little caught up writing about drunk azriel.... Sorry???? This was supposed to have more plot than this.