Shaera opened her eyes, the sun shone through the window, birds chirped outside and a heartbeat was thumping in her ear. The familiar scent of cedar surrounded her... The dark-haired woman sat up, right side aching slightly, her head was previously laying on Azriel's chest. Violet eyes blinked down at the Illyrian. She should get up... start the day, say goodbye to Lucien. 

"Good morning" The hazel-eyed man spoke up suddenly, his eyes opened slightly, Shaera stared down at him 

"Thank you Azriel, for being there" she whispered, the man smiled up at her softly using his right hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He just watched her 

"...are you going to say anything, about last night?" Azriel shook his head 

"No, not unless you want to talk about it, and knowing you, I can only assume you don't" her mouth formed an 'o' 

"Thank you," Shaera whispered before she sat up and peered around the sunlit room

"What's the time?" Azriel looked over at the sun shining through the window

"Seven-thirty" Shaera grumbled  automatically and flopped her head back onto his chest with a soft 'no'

"What do you mean no?" Azriel chuckled softly she could feel his gaze on her. Shaera moved her hand up and covered his eyes 

"Go back to sleep" she whispered shuffling up so her head was in the crook of his neck her breath fanning his skin.  Azriel let her just lay there; his arm had wrapped around her, index finger drawing pictures on her hip bone. She'd had made out, fuchsias, roses and daisies. Elain had brainwashed him with flower talk too. This time she really focused on the scars on his hands, the feeling on her skin. A comfort surrounded them,  both content to simply be alone in each other's company. They lay there for another hour, the events of yesterday remained burned into her mind, Azriel had taken to easing her into idly chatter back and forth about small things, favourite foods, funny stories, and adventures. It kept her mind away from what had happened and allowed them to understand some of the mundane things about one another. Sometimes during their small talk, Shaera found if she looked from the corner of her eye as she told yet another story about her old friends Kyra and Jorah, she would catch a glimpse of Azriel just watching her, a ghost of a smile teasing the edge of his lips, eyes glazed over with an odd emotion. The ex-commander couldn't quite decipher it. Yet all good things must come to an end, a war was ever brewing on the horizon and Azriel had to return to his room to change and Shaera had to change clothes. The dark-haired woman opted for brown trousers, a deep green tunic and black boots. She then tied her curls into a ponytail. Her side hadn't bothered her that much... well unless she turned to one side suddenly, then a sharp pain would shoot into her. But after the first time, she refrained from such movements. Shaera found herself feeling dull, as though no matter how long the sun shone upon her, no warmth would find its way in. It reminded her of the times in Hybern, as she stood behind the stone bars peering into the horizon, waiting, hoping for something to shift the course of her fate.... now she wasn't saying she was still trapped. The fates had been shifted, and her hopes had come true, but she had kind of wanted for something more mundane.... not to come face to face with her impending doom.

The violet-eyed woman knew everyone was saying their goodbyes at the townhouse so she decided to say hers. Shaera wasn't one to winnow unnecessarily... but today was an exception.  Once she was completely ready and feeling somewhat mentally stable,  she walked down the steps leading downwards to the city, just far enough to winnow into the living room of the townhouse. Seemingly right next to the red-haired man. Lucien jumped out of his skin and let out several vulgar words...

"Shaera, are you trying to kill me before my journeys even begun!?" He held a hand over his chest. 

"However tempting that is, no. I've come to say goodbye" she paused Amber met Violet. Lucien did something unexpected, he pulled her into a hug. His arms squeezed around her in a warm conferring sort of way. She quickly returned it 

"Don't die" shaera whispered into his ear. 

"I'll try not to" Lucien murmured back. The ex-commander cleared her throat and pulled away 

"Who else will I get drunk with!" She joked grinning half-heartedly at him, Lucien shook his head and chuckled. 

"Not your brother" he mused. A scoff echoed from across the living room.

"Come on time to go," Rhysand said and approached, Shaera frowned and turned her head to face her brother. He gestured with his head to move to the side, which with a sigh she did. Lucien took Rhysand's hand....before the dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back, Pale and thin Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. The youngest Archeron said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye— the longing and sadness. Is that the look Azriel had when she wasn't looking all those times? Lucien signalled for Rhys to go. He did not glance back at Elain. He did not see the half step she took towards the stairs — as if she'd speak to him. Stop him.
Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. Shaera blinked and sighed. She walked toward the kitchen grabbing a glass from the cupboard, pouring herself some water from the the jug located in the middle of the table. The dark-haired woman downed the contents and placed the glass back down with a clank. She pulled out a chair and flopped down into it, if Shaera could go back, go back and make a different choice, save the two men from their fate, without a doubt she would. But time continues to turn. Regrets and despair are ever-growing...Humans had it easy, 100 years maximum. One lifetime. One story. Immortality is a blessing and a curse.
Shaera stared down at her hands twiddling her thumbs. One question Azriel had asked her was 'what's one place you'd wish to visit with all your heart?' she said winter court... it wasn't a lie, but she wasn't exactly dying to go there...One place she'd visit would be Sadoria. It was a small town located in the southwest of Day court, amongst the mountains. It wasn't too hot, or too cold, a perfect equilibrium. That's where she'd resided for all those years with Jorah, Kya and Raiden... that's where she'd visit...she'd like to see their home one last time. Gods their little small talk had got her thinking... what truly was her favourite colour? Favourite food? Was her birthday even the right day? She'd have to ask Rhysand about that... Shaera was pretty sure she made the date up in the prison cell all those years ago, then just went with it.

Clouds blocked the sun from shining through the kitchen window, a cold shudder ran up her spine. The hairs on her arm stood on end. The air left her lungs. Shaera froze. She could sense them, all of them... the ex-commander lurched from the kitchen and into the living room coming face to face with her brother. Violet clashed with violet

"Hybern..." The High Lord's eyes widened. At that moment the door burst open and Amren walked in her pale face was calm 

"Hybern has attacked, haven't they?" Rhysand asked the grey-eyed woman, Amren nodded. 

"Summer court" she stated. Shaera's mouth went dry. She'd predicted more time before the king retaliated... at least expected the meeting to occur before an onslaught of attacks. Shaera had been wrong.... she'd got it wrong.

**********
Azriel prowled through the front door of the townhouse minutes later, Cassian on his heels. Everyone was stood scattered in the living room of the foyer. Nesta lingered at the dining table in the next room, a clear viewing of everything that was happening.

"Has Tarquin called for aid?" Cassian asked Amren. The short woman's jaw tightened 

"I don't know. I got the message, and —nothing else." Azriel was pacing back and forth until Shaera moved forward and placed a hand on his chest. She turned to Rhysand 

"Does the Summer court have any form of a mobile fighting force, and if so were they ready to engage in battle?" 

"No, their armada was scattered along the coast, half in Adriata— the other dispersed" Shaera frowned. This was bad, very fucking bad. Gods she always had the upper hand with Hybern, but now she was on the opposite side it was like staring herself in the face... fighting herself. 

"His terrestrial army was moved to the Spring Court border... after Feyre. The closest legion is perhaps three days' march away. Very few can winnow" Azriel said his arm subconsciously wrapped around Shaera. She melted into his touch. 

"How many ships?" Rhys asked,

"Twenty in Adriata. Fully armed" Azriel answered, Shaera blinked... that wasn't enough, Hybern had a lot of ships... too many ships 

"Shaera how many ships does Hybern have?" She flickered her gaze up to meet her brothers. He saw the look in her eyes. The dread. 

"A lot, I can guess they've merely brought a quarter to this fight, ranging from 30-40" His gaze lingering on his sister and Spymaster for a moment before he turned back to Amren 

"What was the exact message?" The High lord laced every word with commandment 

"It was a warning. From Varian. To prepare our own defences" silence 

"Prince Varian sent you a warning?" Cassian asked quietly, Amren glared at him 

"It is a thing that friends do." More silence. 

"Well...now you get to decide, do you want Summer Court at the meeting, or not?" Shaera stated bluntly, glancing around the room. Feyre stepped forward

"We cannot leave Tarquin to face them alone," the ex-commander scanned the brunette's face. She was thinking about the Ravens and the distraction they brought with them. 

"Keir and his Darkbringer army are nowhere near ready to march. How soon can the Illyrian legions fly?" Not a moment later Cassian and Rhysand had winnowed to the war camps to check the state of the legions. Feyre had gone over to Nesta, Amren had disappeared somewhere and Morrigan had gone to prepare. 

"I don't want you there Shaera" Azriel was looking down at her now, she frowned and looked up at him, violet clashed with Hazel

"I think you'll find I'll be a greater asset actually fighting" 

"You did enough yesterday" she scoffed and moved from his grasp 

"Yesterday, yesterday was a distraction, to keep you looking beyond your borders... to keep you from seeing the fleet of ships circling like vultures to the west.-" Shaera practically growled 

"-I know how he thinks... I know how they operate, how they fight, I'm going." She stared up at him. Azriel sighed 

"Gods I don't know why I bother trying to tell you what to do-" he mused half-heartedly
"-go get a sword and some armour" 

"Yes sir" she mock bowed and sprinted down the hall.

**********
She had found Illyrian armour... by found she meant inconspicuously borrowed it from Morrigan's room.... it was magnificent, scales danced over her skin, it hugged her like a glove, tight black boots rose to just below her knee. A black hilted sword hung at her right side, twin daggers on her back. A small knife was tucked into her boot. She kept the ponytail in from that morning. Shaera moved back down the hall and quickly fell in beside Morrigan. The blonde woman glanced at her. 

"Is that m- doesn't matter. Don't do anything stupid" the ex-commander rose her eyebrow 

"Look how far you've fallen, wanting me alive and all" 

"Shut up" Mor chuckled, they were matching when it came to their armour. Both looked ready for war. They sent each other one last look. Violet eyes scanned the room, they settled on Rhysand. 

"Don't die again"

"I never died in the first place"

"You know what I mean" The siblings nodded at one another. 

"Ready?" The High lord asked the entirety of the room. Silence. Was anyone ever ready for war?

********
Shaera had seen it all before, waters running red, black smoke rising in gnarled black columns. The bodies... the screaming. Hybern was battering the city, Hellfire was upon them... but this time... this time she was the one standing in the range. Ships burned across the horizon.

"Those are Tarquin's ships," Mor said, her face taut as she pointed to the white sails colliding against the grey sails of Hybern's fleet. Outnumbered as Shaera already guessed, she'd never seen Hybern from the opposing side... Gods were they scary.
Illyrian legions were soaring through the skies.

"Do I have orders?" Shaera asked keeping her gaze peering across the bloodshed. Her voice had changed, it sounded like the voice of the commander of Hybern. Dead, cold, powerful. 

"No," Mor said as she stared at the woman before her. The Shaera stood in the townhouse moment ago was long gone. 

"Very well, I'll see you on the other side" her violet eyes flickered to Feyre and Mor briefly before she descended upon the soldiers of Hybern like a plague from the depths of Tartarus. Heads rolled, and blood splattered from throats. Guts fell from deep slices. Shaera tore through them all, she didn't know their names, and simply didn't bother to remember their faces. The heat of the sun beat down on the soldiers, the ground was growing slick with blood and mud. It seemed she'd started to gain the attention of a lot of the soldiers, whether they recognised her as their lost commander, or simply as a threat, they'd started to leave their battles and force their way into hers. 3 vs 1 had swiftly grown to 5 then to 8... Shaera was spinning and lashing, blood splattered across her face every few swings. The air was dense and hot. It was hard to breathe. Something flew above her and carved its way through men that had grown too close for comfort, her gaze flickered upwards briefly, spotting Azriel flying through the air, 7 siphons gleaming with power.

"You seemed to be slightly overwhelmed"  his voice echoed through her mind, Shaera only had time to whisper back a small

"Thank you" before she was carving through Soldiers again. Rhysand was destroying people left right and centre. Fucking show off. Hybern were surrounding her. Not a single Illyrian or Summer Court warrior was nearby. They'd edged her away from them...

"What a surprise to see you here commander" a man taunted through the helmet, a few others nodded 

"You trained us... and now you're killing us" another voice spoke, it was younger. Shaera blinked, blood dripped down her face. Blood that wasn't her own. Her sword was heavy in her hand as she gasped for breath, it was so hot. 

"You're on the wrong side-" she breathed and turned in a circle gazing around the group one of the soldiers  laughed and shook his head in disbelief 

"They've poisoned your mind commander, you're confused" Shaera chuckled lowly 

"I am well and in my right mind" The men shared a look, Shaera continued to flicker her gaze around, waiting for one of them to make their move 

"Did you kill the Ravens?" Her mouth gaped. Silence confirmed their question. Shaera gripped the sword tighter in her sweaty palm

"You'll die a traitor" normally in a battle the number of those who charge ranges between 1-4... Shaera didn't expect them all to lunge. Her dark hair flowed like tar as she spun and deflected blow after blow. A body slammed into her, sending her sprawling into the mud and blood. Her sword was a centimetre or so from her grasp. The soldier strangled her, she was pinned. Shaera shot her hand up but her arm was quickly buried in the mud. Her teeth bared into a growl, her side ached. A fist connected with her face. Metal cut her cheekbone

"You traitor" the voice shouted above her. Another punch, this time her lip split. He had metal gauntlets on, Another hit. Her nose gushed. Shaera bucked, but the man's weight along with the armour he wore made him an unyielding force. Another hit. Violet faded to black. She slammed into his mind, violently, painfully, he choked. She tore through everything, past, present, feelings, thoughts. He fell to the side into the mud. Shaera gasped for air. Illyrian soldiers flew above her. She caught glimpses of the glorious blue sky through the smoke. the ex-commander stood from the mud and grabbed her sword. Descending into battle again. It just kept going, people fell to her blade and fell to her mind. She tore physically and mentally until carnage lay in her wake. Shaera hadn't seen Azriel in a while. Anxiety clawed at her gut. Where was he? She was peering through the battle, the skies, the ships. Nothing. The ex-commander was panicked now. She slashed and sliced. Battles weren't glorious, neither was war, it was just a whole lot of blood and a whole lot of death... Men surrounded her. Fuck. She was tired. Shaera hadn't been to battle for years, rust had set in. Summer Court men were falling to Hybern swords, attention was shifting to the dark-haired woman standing among the masses. She discarded the sword; her swings were becoming too slow. The ex-commander unsheathed the smaller twin daggers from her back. She was surprised the king hadn't ceased the use of her powers yet, it was likely he was too occupied with watching the bloodshed. Her breath heaved. There was no fresh air on the ground, just the stench of blood and death. Wind circled her, Shaera frowned, before she could turn an arm looped around her waist,

"I can't leave you for five minutes can I?" Azriel murmured into her ear 

"What can I say? I'm popular" she turned her head slightly catching a glimpse of his hazel eyes, ablaze with power, she couldn't turn all the way seeing as her back was pressed against his chest. Azriel chuckled lowly. 

"I guess I'll have to stay by your side for your safety" 

"Excuses excuses." Shaera quipped, and Azriel released her. They fought back to back, anyone who got beyond Azriel's defences was soon ended by Shaera and vice versa. Alone they dabbled with death. But together they danced with it. Azriel used his shadows to weave past people, tearing them apart with his blade, whilst Shaera wielded her mind, too afraid to use the cauldron's power as well. She didn't know how many times she could use it, or how much energy it drained. It was safer to use what she knew. The technique was still sufficient. Her sight caught a glimpse of Rhysand in the distance, the king stood across from him... he wasn't there, he wouldn't come to a battle like this. She frowned, the king had used another spell. Her suspicions were proven when his skin rippled much like a glamour and he faded from the ship. Shaera shook her head, typical. The battle raged on until Hybern figured they were at a loss.

"Think we've won?" She called behind her 

"Yeah, but you were getting sloppy towards the end" Shaera turned and glared at Azriel he chuckled at her expression. 

"Duel me in Velaris, we'll see how long you last" She hissed jokingly 

"Can't wait" he mused sheathing his sword

"Do you think you can look for my sword? I threw it somewhere" 

"You didn't think to sheath it".... oh yeah, she forgot she could do that 

"No..." she mumbled, the Illyrian shook his head and grumbled, before starting to scan the ground. The dark-haired woman grinned amusement 

"There are over a dozen swords at least!"

"Look for the fancy Illyrian one then!" 

"We have more fancy Illyrian swords at home"

"I like that one" Azriel grumbled again followed by a short

"of course you do" Her eyes continued to flicker across the ground, refraining from looking too far ahead, the carnage was endless. Shaera lifted her gaze for half a second trying to breathe in the smallest amount of fresh air.
then she saw it... the glint of an arrowhead... three, hidden in the bushy tundra a small way off from the field. Deep down she knew where they were pointed, her gut told her. Time slowed, and they released. Three black-feathered arrows flew through the air. Shaera twisted around, she couldn't breathe, her foot kicked from the ground as she charged toward Azriel. She wouldn't make it... she would fail again. The Shadowsinger's head turned sensing the oncoming danger. They would hit him. She winnowed 3 arrows pierced her back, one through the shoulder, one below the rib, and the other, she could practically feel it scraping her heart. Pain ripped through her. Her knees hit the mud.

Mates were a weakness...such a blissful weakness. Her heartbeat thumped away in her ears. Shaera thought she heard Azriel scream her name. She blinked. Her breath was shallowed. Her vision was blurred at the edges. Azriel was on his knees in front of her. His scarred hand was on her cheek. Words fell from his lips. Metallic welled on her tongue. Shaera felt it run over her lower lip. Despair, that's what she saw in Azriel's eyes, complete and utter despair. He pulled her from the mud, his arms moved under her neck and knees...she smiled up at him weakly The ground grew distant below them. Clean oxygen filled her lungs, for a moment. Blood pooled into her mouth again, Shaera coughed. It was nice to be in the air again. A peace lapped over his skin in waves.

"I just found you, after all these years I found you" she heard the Illyrian mumbling as he soared faster through the sky. 

"What do you do? Throw yourself in front of me" Shaera let out a wheezed laugh Azriel glanced down at her. 

"I- I was too slow before, I wasn't going to be slow again-" her hand reached up and rested on his jaw another coughing fit erupting from her chest. Shaera could feel her lung capacity lessen with every breath. She closed her eyes 

"If you don't open your eyes I'm going to drop you," Azriel said from above, she squinted up at him and bared her teeth 

"Bite me"

"That can be arranged" 

"Even as I die you torment me" she relaxed further into his hold. Her breath was raspy. Her eyelids heavy. She felt the blood drip from her back. Azriel landed somewhere 

"Where are we?" She whispered into his mind. Her eyes closed again 

"The Illyrian war camp" he replied, scouring the masses of people. Shaera simply didn't have the strength to reply. She was placed on a makeshift bed, laying on her stomach. Groans of pain echoed around her. Whispers laced with agony, her eyes clenched shut.

"I need to get the arrows out, black feathers tend to be an indication of poison" an unfamiliar voice spoke to her right. Warmth filled her left hand, Shaera opened her eyes slightly to find Azriel knelt beside the bed. Concern shrouded his features 

"Do what you must" he looked off past her shoulder, possibly speaking to the healer. Oh, gods, oh fuck, he was going to pull the arrows out, she knew they'd have to come out at some point. She felt the one in her shoulder tug slightly. Shaera groaned. 

"Ready?" Azriel squeezed her hand. Then it was torn from her flesh. Searing hot pain ripped through her shoulder, Shaera screamed and shoved her head into the pillow. She could feel the bone shift. Fuck it'd shattered her shoulder blade. Azriel was stroking her hair with his other hand. The Illyrian was whispering words of comfort into her ear.

"You're okay"

"It'll be over soon" 

"I've got you" Footsteps approached.

"Oh, gods..." Morrigan? Shaera really couldn't tell. 

"What happened?" Rhysand asked from somewhere at the foot of the bed. 

"She jumped in the way..." Azriel answered turning his head away from her ear. The healer gripped the arrow under her rib. Shaera squeezed his hand. It was ripped out, Pain shot through her again, this time she felt the blood pool from the wound. She screamed into the pillow again.

"The lungs punctured, 3 ribs are broken" she was going to die... shattered shoulder blade, broken ribs, punctured lung. That doesn't even take into account where the last arrow was. The man said something about Azriel applying pressure to stop the bleeding. His hand slipped from her own. Pressure was applied to the wound, which pushed on her broken ribs. Agony. 

"How likely is it she'll survive without the aid of magic?" Rhys asked quietly. Silence followed. 

"Right now there's the internal damage, then the blood loss. Follow that with the poison-" his words echoed around the inner circle. 

"-We can take the arrows out and make her comfortable. But you can't heal the inside without it'" he gripped onto the last arrow and wasted no time in pulling it out. A sob erupted from her, tears streamed down Shaera's face and into the pillow. The healer was frantically moving around to stop the bleeding. Her back was coated in thick blood. Mor let out a shuddered breath and walked out of the tent. Rhysand watched, Feyre slipped into the tent staring down at her mate's sister, Azriel was distraught, his hand coated as he continued to apply pressure. Cassian walked in 

"I heard Shaera was injured, tell her to stop being a big baby..." he must have set eyes on her a small 

"oh no" left his mouth. Her breaths were laboured.
Silence again. Her back throbbed along with her heartbeat. Sweat poured down her brow

"I'm not dead yet, stop mourning me" she found the strength to growl her head lifting from the pillow slightly before it flopped back down with exhaustion. Rhysand's brow furrowed deeply. 

"Feyre" Azriel pleaded from beside her, the High Lady moved forward and knelt beside Shaera. 

"I can clot the bleeding and heal the bones slightly, but I don't know about the poison" Feyre spoke softly beside her, and the dark-haired woman nodded gently. Hands were placed onto her back, a soft glow shone from the Archeron's palms. Azriel's now wet hand grasped onto hers again. Warmth spread through her. Shaera's head was fuzzy. Her gaze flickered to Azriel's. He was intently watching the glow of Feyre's hands, seemingly waiting for anything to go wrong. 

"Azriel-" she whispered, hazel eyes instantly snapped down to her own

"-if you stare any harder your eyes will fall out" Black dots danced across her vision, her body numbed, paralysis... guess that's the poison working. She figured it slowed due to the blood loss, but now it was in full throttle. She tried to speak 

"Shaera..." Azriel sat forward. darkness swelled, his face faded. 

"Don't close your eyes-" it was too late. She was swallowed into the darkness.

——————————————
4400
The end.
I'm Joking 🤭 I was going to have the next scene in this chapter but... I decided not to. 😌
Nearly fell asleep before posting this 😂
Written 6.2.21
Edited. 11.2.21 (mildly, probably still contains mistakes)
Published 16.2.21
Edited again: 14.3.21. Added some more scenery details, fixed spelling mistakes.

Edited again 14th May 2022. Grammarly stuff 0.0

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