ACOTAR one shots, imagines and short stories

Torn Between Love and Fate (Azriel x OC) - Part 1

Word count: 5844

Characters: Azriel and Elara (OC)

Warning: Serious angst (I'm sorry in advance) 

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Azriel stood in his dimly lit room, the shadows shifting across the walls as he prepared to leave for his mission. His heart was heavy with the weight of the impending departure. 

He approached a drawer, hidden beneath layers of clothing, and with a careful hand, retrieved a small, ornate box. He held it in his palm, the weight of it both comforting and terrifying. It was a symbol of everything he had ever wanted, everything he had dared to hope for in a world that had given him so little.

Carefully, he opened the box, revealing a delicate engagement ring nestled inside. The metal gleamed in the low light, the stone catching the glow of the fae lamps. It was simple but elegant, much like the woman he intended it for. A smile tugged at his lips, the rare expression softening his normally stoic features.

"Soon," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. The idea of asking her to be his forever filled him with a sense of warmth he had never known. His heart raced at the thought, a sensation he had only begun to understand since she had come into his life.

Azriel carefully closed the box and returned it to its hiding place in the drawer, ensuring it was safely tucked away until he was back. The anticipation of that moment made his departure a little easier to bear. With one last, fond glance at the box, he turned away, his mind drifting back to the day they first met.

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The War of Hybern had raged on for what felt like an eternity, each battle more brutal and relentless than the last. Azriel had seen more death and destruction than most could bear, but the sight of Cassian's bloodied, broken body had nearly undone him. The thought of losing him had made something cold and dark twist in his chest, tightening until he could hardly breathe.

Azriel flew Cassian to the healer's tent with all the speed his shadows could muster, his mind a whirlwind of fear and fury. He landed outside the tent with a harsh thud, his boots sinking into the mud as he cradled Cassian's limp form in his arms. Bursting through the entrance, he scanned the room, his eyes wild, desperate for help.

A young healer, her tunic already stained with blood from other wounded soldiers, rushed forward. Her expression was calm, but there was no mistaking the urgency in her movements as she directed him to lay Cassian on the nearest cot.

"Careful," she instructed, her voice steady but firm. "Gently now."

Azriel barely registered her words, his focus entirely on Cassian's pale face and the alarming amount of blood soaking through his armour. His heart thundered in his chest, and he gritted his teeth as he lowered Cassian onto the cot. The healer immediately began assessing the wounds, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

"What are you doing?" Azriel snapped, his voice sharp and accusatory. "He's losing too much blood! You need to stop the bleeding!"

The healer didn't flinch at his harsh tone, her hands already working to remove Cassian's chest plate to better access the wounds. "I'm aware," she replied calmly, her eyes focused on the task at hand. "But if I don't remove this armour, I can't see the extent of the damage."

Azriel hovered over her, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet. "You're wasting time," he growled, his patience fraying. "Just heal him!"