It had been a few months since you'd been turned Fae by the Cauldron, only it made you an Illyrian female instead of High Fae like Nesta and Elain. Like Elain, you didn't leave your room, or eat much, but even she had moved on my now, and you were barely able to get put of bed with the almost dead weight of your new wings. Azriel was tasked by Rhysand to help you. He had been older before he was allowed to use his wings, and he understood how unnatural it felt. He felt the strong drive to help you. You were a beautiful girl, inside and out, and he wanted you to be yourself, as Feyre had described you. He walked silently up to your room in the House of Wind, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets because of the chill in the air.