#✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] ELAIN ARCHERON

[bloodofthefates]

x. background & interactions

Nuala - name meaning “fair shoulder” or “fair-shouldered one” Cerridwen - name meaning “fair” or “blessed poetry”; mythological enchantress & goddess of the Underworld Allegiance: Velaris & The Night Court - Though Nuala & Cerridewen attend Feyre and later Elain as handmaidens or attendants, this is often a cover job title that is used to explain their accompaniment to the Inner Circle & High Lord & High Lady. Though their friendship and allegiance to both Archeron sisters keep them in these services when not directly working under their actual title as spies for Azriel or Rhys, they do ultimately serve and answer to them in all capacities. Ultimately, I think they serve Azriel first and foremost (take that as good or bad?) but abide by his loyalty to Rhys and subsequently align themselves with the High Lord. - Nesta and the power they sense from her feels foreign and not quite right, making both of the twins very uncomfortable around her and in her presence. They prefer to maintain their distance from her unless directly ordered to do so otherwise as she feels like unstable and untapped magic they are incredibly perceptive to. Due to their protectiveness of both Feyre and Elain especially, this compounds how they feel about the eldest Archeron and often the treatment of them they’ve witnessed (knowingly or unknowingly).

[kopfkino-o]

My predictions for the rest of the ACOTAR series go something sorta like this…

ACOTAR 5: Elain x Azriel

Elain conquers her Mountain (the Prison). Spy Elain arc with a friendship with Nuala and Cerridwen. Azriel is her love interest and together they deal with their respective traumas. Elain finally gets to choose, and Azriel is finally chosen. A conversation between Mor and Az clears up the dynamic between them. A subplot involving a friendship between Elain and Lucien that leads them to mutually deciding to reject the bond. Koschei breaks free at the end of the book.

Theme(s): Fate vs Freewill, Self-Autonomy

NOVELLA: Prequel

A prequel novella surrounding the events of Prythian during the reign of the Daglan. Theia, Fionn, and Pelias are major characters. We learn more about what happened and about the dynamic between them. Koschei and the Death God siblings will also have some role, giving us more background on them. This sets up a potential full-fledged crossover series (Twilight of the Gods) or just simply introduces the idea of a multiverse for ACOTAR-only readers. Information learned in this will also set up things for the final ACOTAR book.

Theme(s): Power & Corruption, Hubris (?)

ACOTAR 6: Lucien x Vassa

Lucien goes back to the Spring Court or Humanlands to deal with Koschei. His love interest is Vassa and he has a friendship with Jurian. Eris and Lady of Autumn are also somehow involved. Koschei forces Vassa back to his creepy lake. Vassa’s relationships with the other trapped women is explored. Lucien discovers his heritage and spell-cleaving powers. Helion plays some sort of role in this. Lucien uses these powers to free Vassa and finally defeat Koschei, most likely with the support of the three Archeron sisters and the three bat boys. Vassa and Lucien end up reigning as High King and Queen of both Prythian and the Humans. The story ends with an epilogue that gives us a look into what the rest of the main characters do in the future and where other side characters end up.

Theme: Identity, Family

The End!

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 8: The Champions

Ao3 Masterlist

Elain was still fuming by the time she reached the potions classroom, located in one of the school’s large dungeons. The room was drafty, with stone walls filled with a variety of potions ingredients and pickled objects that Elain would rather not know the true nature of. A large, bubbling cauldron sat on the professor’s desk at the head of the class, and every few seconds a golden droplet would leap from the surface like a glittering fish.

Elain slammed her bag and cauldron down on the table with perhaps more force than she should have, making the students already seated around her jump in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Nuala asked with a mixture of bemusement and concern.

“Nothing,” Elain replied darkly, slumping down into her seat and crossing her arms. “Just Vanserra being an idiot.”

Nuala and Cerridwen shared a knowing glance, and Elain tampered her irritation.

“It’s just attention he wants,” a quiet voice said behind her. Elain turned and came face to face with Azriel, who offered her a shy smile. “If you don’t react he’ll get bored eventually.”

Of course he was just being nice but for some reason that irritated her even more. “I know that,” she snapped.

Azriel blinked in surprise and recoiled slightly at her tone. “Ok…It’s just, you keep engaging with him and that’s exactly what he wants. He’s a bully, that’s what they do. He probably doesn’t get enough attention from his famous father.” His tone turned bitter, and Elain’s stomach turned as she remembered the scene in the Three Broomsticks, and her conversation with Lucien afterwards.

“You don’t know anything about Lucien. His relationship with his family is really complicated…”

“Don’t tell me you’re defending that git?” Azriel sneered.

Nuala and Cerridwen were silent and slack jawed as their heads swiveled back and forth between them. Elain’s temper was reaching a boiling point, bubbling to the surface like the potion currently smoking on the professor’s desk.

“What if I am?” she taunted, getting to her feet. The whole classroom went silent. “I was just trying to help you, but next time maybe I won’t!”

Azriel scoffed, his hazel eyes narrowing. “I don’t need your help! I’m perfectly capable of dealing with an imbecile like him without help from a girl!”

A few gasps echoed around the high-ceilinged dungeon. Elain’s heart was racing. She hated confrontation, especially with someone she had always been friendly with.

Then why is it that you have no problems confronting Lucien? A little voice whispered in her ear.

“Excuse me?” she sputtered.

Azriel opened his mouth to reply but just then the potions teacher breezed into the room, letting the heavy door slam into the wall in his wake.

“Silence!” Professor Hybern demanded, his black robes swishing behind him as he marched to the head of the class.

The room was already silent, but everybody reluctantly turned their attention away from Elain and Azriel and towards the front of the classroom, where Professor Hybern was already scribbling on the blackboard. With one last contemptuous look at her, Azriel slunk away to a table of Slytherins, and Elain took her seat between her friends, still shaken from the encounter.

This was all Lucien’s fault. She could only imagine the obnoxiousness that would be aimed her way if he found out she’d defended him in front of a classroom full of people. Damn him and his sad family dynamics and his idiotic, beautiful face…

“Ashwinder egg!” The teacher boomed, rousing her out of her thoughts. “The juice of a squill bulb. A dash of tincture of thyme, a ground up Occamy egg, and a sprinkle of powdered common rue.” From the front of the class Azriel’s hand shot in the air. “These are the ingredients for the potion currently brewing on my desk.” He waved a hand to indicate the gently bubbling golden potion and as if on cue a large golden droplet jumped into the air and flipped gracefully back into the cauldron. “Can anybody tell me what this is?”

“Liquid luck!” Nuala exclaimed next to her, her dark eyes wide with awe. From the front of the classroom Azriel lowered his hand and shot them a glowering look.

“That’s right,” the professor said with an uncharacteristic smile. “Felix Felicis, better known as liquid luck.” The cauldron on his desk gurgled again, drops leaping from the surface merrily. “Extremely difficult to make, disastrous if made wrong, and highly toxic if taken in excess. But when brewed correctly, just a few drops will make you, for a time, the luckiest person in the world.”

“Have you ever taken it, professor?” someone asked from the front of the room.

“Twice,” the teacher replied, a faraway look clouding his gaze. “A perfect day, each time.”

He seemed to shake himself out of his memories as another hand shot up from the front of the class. “Are we learning how to make it?” Azriel asked excitedly. “Doesn’t it take six months to brew?”

Elain’s stomach fell at that. There was no way she would ever succeed in correctly making a potion that needed six months to brew, especially without Azriel to help her…

“I’m afraid not,” the teacher replied with a sly smile. Several sighs of disappointment echoed around the dungeon. “Felix Felicis is part of the curriculum for seventh years. However, I thought we might have a little fun today.”

He waved his wand towards the blackboard and a list of ingredients and instructions appeared.

“Draught of Living Death,” he continued. “Very tricky to make, and more complex than anything you’ve attempted thus far.”

“Great,” Elain muttered to her friends. “That’s exactly my idea of fun.”

“I don’t expect a perfect potion from anybody, but we have just a little over an hour left, which should be enough time for you to make a decent attempt. Whoever cooks up the most successful attempt will win a little prize.” With a flourish he removed a small vial from his pocket and dipped it into the golden Felix Felicis bubbling on his desk. “One vial of Felix Felicis, enough for twelve hours worth of good luck!”

There was a flurry of activity unlike anything Elain had ever seen in the potions dungeons. Cauldrons slammed onto desks, students rushed to the ingredients cupboard, all while a low hum of excited chatter buzzed in the background.

Half an hour later Elain’s hair was a frizzy halo from the thick, foul steam wafting from her cauldron, and her mood was worsening by the minute. According to her textbook the potion should have turned a delicate shade of lilac by now, before turning crystal clear. The slop in her cauldron, however, had somehow managed to turn a sickly shade of green and seemed to be in the process of congealing.

Nuala and Cerridwen were not faring much better, both their faces currently hidden behind identical clouds of thick grey smoke.

“I give up,” Nuala said dejectedly, waving her textbook around to help disperse the thick smoke.

Elain chanced a glance towards the Slytherin table, where Azriel was calmly stirring his potion. Of course he had not come over to apologize, and neither had she. But why should she apologize? She’d done nothing wrong but try to defend him. She huffed in frustration and slumped down the stone bench, abandoning her now definitely congealed potion.

“So,” Nuala said carefully, as if sensing her mood. “Can we backtrack for a minute?”

Elain didn’t meet her friend’s gaze, pretending to focus her attention on the bits of sloth brain stuck under her fingernails. “Backtrack to what?”

She kept her gaze lowered but instinctively felt her friends give each other a knowing look. Sometimes being best friends with twins was a curse.

“To whatever Lucien said that rattled you so much,” Cerridwen threw in.

Elain scoffed, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “He didn’t rattle me,” she muttered. “He was being rude to Azriel and I stood up for him.” They didn’t need to know that Lucien had asked her out again. No doubt their opinions about that would be different than hers.

Go out with me, Archie. Then maybe you’ll find out if I’m a nice guy or not.

Merlin help her, but why were her toes curling at the mere memory or those words uttered in his stupidly deep voice? It was becoming difficult to ignore the quickening of her heart every time he glanced at her, or the flush that would rise all the way to her hairline. Not to mention the fact that she had a nagging suspicion that he was starting to realize the effect he had on her.

Damn him and his stupid, dumb, beautiful face.

“But then you stood up for Lucien, too,” Nuala said cautiously, as if afraid of causing an outburst.

Elain sighed, her stomach twisting with guilt. She hadn’t told her friends what Lucien had told her about his family, or that she knew the Pygmy Puff had been from him. She hasn’t told Lucien she knew about that either, for that matter.

“He told me some things about his family, when we were in Hogsmeade. He was…not an ass, for once. People think he’s spoiled and entitled but that’s not really true.”

“Elain Archeron!” Nuala gasped, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Am I dreaming, or are you catching feelings for Lucien?”

“No! I am not….” Elain sputtered, fully aware she was blushing a tell-tale shade of red.

“Please just go out with him so we can live vicariously through you!”

“Guys! Can we not?” Elain pleaded.

“Indeed,” a cool voice intoned mirthlessly from behind them. Professor Hubern peered into their cauldrons and then recoiled with a slight curl of his lip. “Perhaps next time try actually reading the instructions instead of gossiping. You might find you get better results that way.”

“Sorry, professor…” Elain muttered, mortified. Her attempt at the Draught of Living Death had somehow turned into a large greenish-grey lump.

The teacher moved to the front of the classroom and paused, predictably, in front of Azriel’s desk.

“See this color, and the fact that the potion is actually liquid?” he asked, his eyes flicking towards Elain and her friends. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

“Of course he’d win it…” Elain muttered, watching with jealousy as Azriel pocketed the vial of liquid luck.

Twelve hours of the best luck in the world. What could she have achieved with that? Perhaps she could have picked out numbers for the lotto. Surely that was immoral, but it wouldn’t have hurt anybody. Or perhaps she could have taken Lucien up on his offer…

No. No, no, no! Absolutely not, with luck or without, why would you even think that…

Elain shook the thought from her mind and with a resigned sigh, started the stomach-churning task of scraping the concealed mess from the bottom of her cauldron.

---

At supper that night it seemed like every single student was eating at lightning speed, eager to have the Halloween feast over with so the champions could be announced. A low hum of excited chatter echoed around the room, interspersed periodically by a burst of white sparks from the cauldron- as if it, too, couldn’t wait to reveal who the champions would be.

The Great Hall had been decorated for Halloween with dozens of live bats flapping around the enchanted ceiling, which tonight showed a clear sky with thousands of twinkling stars. Hundreds of giant pumpkins sat piled in every corner of the hall, the flickering candles inside them adding a menacing edge to their carved, leering faces.

The two guests from the previous night were back at the staff table, though Elain was relieved to see that the Minister for Magic was nowhere to be found. She was fighting a dull, throbbing headache, fueled by her lingering frustration after her argument with Azriel and her encounter with Lucien, and the last thing she wanted was Lucien’s father’s sneering face to add to the mix. It didn’t help that anytime she recalled either incident all she could see was Lucien’s mismatched gaze boring into hers with that intensity that always made her think he could see right through her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed with her Pygmy Puff and ignore both boys in question for the foreseeable future.

As the last of the puddings were cleared from the long House tables the headmaster got to his feet, and the Great Hall fell silent. People were craning their necks to better see the cauldron, and Elain momentarily put aside her irritation to give in to the collective excitement permeating the air.

“The moment has come!” Professor Spell-Cleaver declared with a broad grin, spreading his arms wide. “The cauldron is just about ready to make its selection. If your name is called, please make your way towards the front of the hall to the chamber behind the staff table, where you will receive instructions regarding the first task.”

“GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!” someone yelled in exasperation from the Ravenclaw table. There was a wave of nervous laughter around the Great Hall, and Professor Spell-Cleaver chuckled appreciatively.

“Indeed,” he agreed, inclining his head. “I quite agree that’s enough talking from me.”

With that he swept his wand through the air in a graceful arc, and all the torches in the Great Hall were immediately extinguished. The only light came from the candles inside the giant carved pumpkins, and the twinkle of the stars above.

The Great Hall was still and silent for a few moments, as if nobody dared to move or breathe. And then the flames in the cauldron rose in the air, and there was a collective gasp from the assembled students. The blue-white flames were so bright it was almost like looking directly into the sun. There was a flash of color as the flames turned to emerald green, and a scrap of parchment jumped out of the cauldron and into the Headmaster’s outstretched hand.

“The champion for Slytherin will be…Rhysand Donnall!”

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers, students jumping to their feet to get a look at the Head Boy-turned champion.

“Of course,” Nuala groaned with a slight eye roll.

Elain clapped politely but couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Rhys had always been a smug git- being a champion in the tournament would not do his ego any favors. The Slytherin champion stood up and actually waved to the students cheering for him, a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

“Whoever the other champions are, they cannot let him win,” Elain quipped with a giggle. “Can you imagine how insufferable he would be?”

“The Hufflepuff champion won’t let that happen,” the Fat Friar said good-naturedly. “It’s our time to shine, I can feel it!”

The Fat Friar had a way of making these declarations before every Quidditch match, but Elain didn’t bother pointing that out.

Rhysand made his way down the Slytherin table towards the front of the hall where his head of House, Professor Hybern, clapped him on the back before following him through the door the Headmaster had indicated.

The Slytherin table fell silent as the attention of the hall was brought back to the cauldron. The flames had gone back to blue-white, but there was a gasp of delight from the Ravenclaw table as they suddenly shifted to a deep sapphire. Another piece of parchment zoomed out of the flames.

“The champion for Ravenclaw,” the headmaster read, “will be Nesta Archeron!”

Elain gasped and jumped to her feet as students along the Ravenclaw table cheered for their champion. Her sister looked slightly dazed as she stood up, but when she caught Elain’s gaze she grinned broadly and pumped her fist in the air. The images flashed through Elain’s mind again- one thousand Galleons prize money, converted into Muggle currency. A new car, perhaps even a new flat. She knew from the look in her sister’s eyes that that was what she was picturing too, and for a second her throat felt tight.

“THAT’S MY SISTER!” A voice yelled triumphantly from the Gryffindor table.

Elain joined in with the laughter rippling through the Great Hall as she turned and saw Feyre standing on her chair as she clapped wildly, her eyes bright. From the staff table Professor Tarquin, Head of Ravenclaw House, waved his wand to produce a shower of sapphire blue sparks. Nesta followed him through the door to the chamber, and the Ravenclaw table gradually fell silent.

Elain took her seat next to her friends and turned to the cauldron, waiting for the flames to shift again. A moment later they turned ruby red, tinged with gold. The entire Gryfindor table seemed to be holding its breath as a third scrap of parchment shot out of the flames. Even from the other side of the hall Elain could see Professor Spell-Cleaver’s eyes crinkling with delight, and she immediately knew without a doubt which name he was about to call out.

“The Gryffindor champion,” he called out, a wide grin on his face, “is Lucien Vanserra!”

Every single Grynffindor was immediately on their feet, the uproar from their table so loud that Elain could barely hear herself think.

“Another of course!” Elain groaned. Though she found she couldn’t quite muster up as much venom as she would have liked.

Lucien managed to extricate himself from the onslaught of arms high-fiving him and clapping him on the back, his gaze immediately turning to the Hufflepuff table. When his gaze met hers he threw her a wink and his trademark smirk before turning towards the staff table. Elain felt the tell-tale blush coming on and she quickly dipped her head so her friends wouldn’t see. At the staff table Eris enveloped his brother in a bear hug before tiny Professor Amren ushered him into the champions’ room with an uncharacteristic smile. The flames in the cauldron turned blue-white once more.

The Gryffindors kept cheering long after the door had shut, and only fell silent once the flames turned a vivid yellow. They seemed to glow longer than before, rising higher and higher, until a plume of black smoke rose from the top like a tongue.

“How strange…” the Fat Friar muttered across the table.

A fourth piece of parchment shot out of the flames, this one so scorched it was almost fully black.

“And finally, the Hufflepuff champion is…” Professor Spell-Cleaver caught the parchment, his mouth opening to announce the name, when he blinked in surprise and frowned. His lifted his gaze towards the Hufflepuff table, his eyes searching, before settling in her direction.

Elain looked around her curiously, wondering who could have gotten such a reaction from the Headmaster. A student who frequently got into trouble? But that was the definition of Lucien, and he had gotten nothing but enthusiasm…

“Elain Archeron.”

Elain was still peering along the Hufflepuff table when the sound of her name made her freeze. For a second she couldn’t move or breathe. Her head whipped back towards the Headmaster, certain she had misheard. He was still frowning, and still very much looking not just in her direction, but directly at her.

“What?” she blurted.

Several people chuckled, followed by polite applause, mostly from younger Hufflepuff students. Elain’s heart started beating so swiftly she thought she might vomit. There must have been a mistake, perhaps the parchment was so charred that the Headmaster couldn’t read the name properly…

“I didn’t know you had turned seventeen,” the Fat Friar said jovially, his neck rolls quivering as he clapped enthusiastically. “Well done!”

“I…I didn’t! I haven’t, I mean…I’m sixteen!”

Nuala and Cerridwen were both staring at her open-mouthed, identical looks of shock on their faces.

“Elain Archeron!” the Headmaster repeated, his voice booming across the Great Hall.

“Oh god,” Elain whispered, panicking.

“How did you do it?” Nuala asked, her dark eyes wide.

“I didn’t!” Elain exclaimed. She felt a hysterical urge to laugh. People were looking at her curiously, no doubt wondering if she had gotten cold feet.

“Elain Archeron, please come up to the front of the hall and join the other champions!” There was an edge to the Headmaster’s tone, and the polite applause died down as people realized that clearly something had gone wrong.

Elain got to her feet shakily, feeling herself break out in a sweat as every eye in the Great Hall swiveled towards her. She didn’t dare glance towards the Gryffindor table, to the disbelief and confusion surely etched on Feyre’s face. People whispered as she walked the interminable length of the hall, and she kept her face down until she reached the teacher’s table. When she reached the front of the hall she noticed that the flames in the Cauldron of Fire had extinguished completely. Its job, it seemed, was complete.

There was a deep crease between Professor Spell-Cleaver’s normally playful amber eyes as he looked at her with what looked like disappointment. Elain wanted to die of embarrassment and shame, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“This way, Elain,” Professor Alis beckoned.

Elain ducked her head again, unable to bear the Headmaster’s critical gaze, and followed the herbology teacher and head of Hufflepuff House into the room where the other champions waited. It was a cozy room lined with portraits, with a roaring fire giving off a warm glow.

“Finally!” someone said as the door closed behind them. And then- silence. From behind the closed door Elain heard the rumble of Professor Spell-Cleaver voice, followed by the scraping sound of benches being pushed back and hundreds of feet shuffling out of the Great Hall.

“Elain?” Nesta asked curiously. “What’s going on? Who’s the Hufflepuff champion?”

Elain gulped, feeling sweat drip down her back. She was somehow hot and cold at once, shivering despite the stifling air in the room.

“I, um…” her voice came out strained, and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Elain’s name came out of the cauldron as Hufflepuff Champion,” Professor Alis said tightly.

“Oh!” Rhys exclaimed with a frown, looking between her and Nesta. “I didn’t know you were seventeen!”

This was met by silence from the rest of the room.

“She’s not,” Nesta said simply.

“How did you put your name in?” Lucien asked at the same time.

Before Elain could reply the door to the Great Hall flew open and Professor Spell-Cleaver barged in, followed by Eris and Mr Koschei. Several people started talking at once but the Headmaster held up a hand to silence them. He turned to Elain, and she forced herself to meet that intense amber gaze.

“Elain,” he said calmly. “How did you get your name into the Cauldron?”

“I didn’t!” Elain blurted. She could not remember ever having been more mortified. “Professor, I swear, I didn’t put my name in!”

“Can you explain how it is that your name was called, then?” Mr Koschei asked drily.

“I don’t know!” To her horror she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. For someone who disliked confrontations she was certainly having a day.

“She couldn’t have gotten past the age line, anyway,” Professor Tarquin said. “Helion put that line in himself, nobody under the age of seventeen could have gotten past it.”

“Did you ask an older student to enter your name for you?” the Headmaster asked.

“NO!”

“Well clearly you must have!” Mr Koschei’s face was turning red and he huffed in frustration. “We spent months planning for this, making sure the event would be fair and safe…” “Thank you, Bartemius, I’m sure we are all very well aware of that,” the Headmaster cut him off with a stern look.

Elain chanced a glance at her fellow students. Lucien and Nesta both looked equally baffled, while Rhysand’s expression matched the outrage on the ministry worker’s face.

“Look here, Headmaster,” Professor Hybern said. “Clearly the girl is lying. This could easily be solved by a few drops of Veritaserum, if you’ll wait while I run to my office…”

“Professor Hybern,” the Headmaster’s voice had turned glacial. “Please tell me I must have misheard and that you did not just suggest using an illegal method of interrogation on one of our students?”

Professor Hybern did not reply, though an angry vein throbbed in his neck.

“If Elain says she didn’t do it then she didn’t do it!” Professor Alis wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and Elain almost sagged with relief. At least one person believed her.

“My thoughts exactly,” the Headmaster agreed.

“If Elain didn’t put her name in, and she didn’t ask someone else to do it…then it means someone else put her name in without consulting her,” Professor Amren said slowly.

Elain’s stomach lurched. “What? Why would someone have done that?”

“A prank?” Eris asked with a shrug.

“Sounds plausible…” Professor Tarquin said with a suspicious glance at Lucien.

“Do you know anything about this, Mr Vanserra?” Professor Spell-Cleaver asked suddenly, still in that calmly pensive tone.

“Me?!” Lucien exclaimed. “No! Why would I know anything about this?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be the worse prank you’ve ever played,” Professor Amren replied with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t have done that to Elain!” Lucien said angrily. “And if I knew who had, I would say so.”

Elain felt herself flush again, this time from the fierceness in his tone.

“That’s all well and good,” Mr Koschei cut in impatiently. “But it doesn’t solve the issue at hand, which is that we have an underage champion!”

“Can’t you just…pick someone else?” Elain asked slightly desperately. She might have entertained a brief fantasy of herself winning the tournament when it was first announced, but truthfully Nesta was much more cut out for competitions like this than she was. Not to mention that she would be breaking the rules by participating.

“Having your name picked from the Cauldron is a binding magical contract,” Professor Amren replied with a frown. “There’s no turning back once you’ve been picked as a champion. The Headmaster warned about this when the tournament was announced.”

Elain’s stomach lurched again. “But…it’s not fair, I don’t want to participate. Just pick someone else who actually entered!”

“That’s not how it works.” Professor Spell-Cleaver’s eyes were sympathetic, and Elain had a sudden terrible feeling that she wouldn’t be getting out of this. “The flames in the Cauldron have been extinguished. They won’t light again until the next tournament.”

“Which will be better monitored than this one, one should hope!” Hybern retorted angrily.

“Look,” Eris started, glancing at Elain curiously. “The reason we insisted on an age restriction is because it would be incredibly difficult for anyone below sixth or seventh year to succeed. But it’s only a technicality- if Lucien can participate then there’s no reason Elain shouldn’t be allowed to. They’ve had the same magical training.”

“But she doesn’t want to!” Nesta spat. “Or were you not listening?”

“Nes!”

“He’s right,” Lucien cut in. Nesta glared at him, but Lucien only shrugged. “You’re way smarter than me, if they think I can achieve the trials there’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

Elain couldn’t prevent herself from smiling at that. Nesta looked ready to reply with a biting retort but fell quiet at a stern look from the Headmaster.

Mr Koschei heaved an all-suffering sigh. “Very well,” he conceded. “The Cauldron has made its decision, and we must go forward. Ms Archeron, you will simply have to do your best.”

His tone did not exactly put her at ease, but Professor Alis squeezed her shoulder again. “Think of this as an opportunity! Most of the school would love to be in your shoes!”

“Right…” Elain murmured, suddenly exhausted. “I guess you’re right.” She shot a quick glance at Lucien and squared her shoulders. “If Lucien can do it then so can I.”

“That’s the spirit!” her Head of House said approvingly.

Eris coughed politely. “Shall we…uh…get on with it, then?”

“Yes!” Professor Spell-Cleaver agreed with a tone that did not invite further argument. “Time to give our champions the instructions for their first trial.”

Eris grinned and turned to face the champions. “The first trial will take place on November twenty-fourth. The rest of the school, as well as the panel of judges, will attend the event. The first trial is designed to test your daring, as well as your ability to think under pressure. For this reason, you will face your first trial armed with only your wand.”

Elain suppressed a groan. If she was to participate in this she had at least hoped to have a chance to prepare for the trials. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her fellow champions listening to Eris with rapt attention, all three of them practically quivering with excitement.

“You are forbidden from receiving any kind of help for the trials, either from teachers or from fellow students,” Mr Koschei continued. “If you fail to complete the task, or choose not to participate, you will not receive any points for that particular trial.” Elain could have sworn this last part was aimed at her.

“I think that’s all, then!” the Headmaster declared. He gave Elain another sympathetic look. “You’ll do just fine, Ms Archeron. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she murmured.

“Now chop chop, off to bed! Mr Koschei, Mr Vanserra, you’ll join me for a nightcap, yes?”

Nesta rushed to her side and linked their arms together before practically dragging her out of the room. The Great Hall was deserted, but Nesta waited until they had reached the Entrance Hall to speak.

“Seriously,” her sister whispered, her voice laced with amusement. “How did you do it?”

Elain audibly groaned this time. She was already tired of answering this particular question. “I didn’t! I wasn’t lying!”

“Come on,” Nesta prodded, nudging her shoulder. “I won’t tell! I’m not mad that you’re also a champion. It’ll be fun! Although, Feyre is going to throw a fit…”

“I’m serious, Nesta! I didn’t put my name in! I have no idea who did or how they did it.”

Nesta blinked, her blue eyes widening. “Well, shit!” A moment later her gaze fixed on a point over Elain’s shoulder and her eyes narrowed. “You,” she sneered. “Did you do this?”

Elain was unsurprised that it was Lucien who had just walked into the entrance hall, but what did surprise her was the immediate distress on his face.

“No!” he exclaimed. “I swear, Elain, I had nothing to do with this! You must know I wouldn’t…”

“I know,” Elain said quickly, cutting him off. “I believe you.”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged with relief, even as Nesta huffed beside her.

“I meant what I said,” he continued, ignoring her sister. “You’re much more clever than I am, so if one of us sixth years has a shot it’s definitely you and not me.” He grinned at her broadly, and Elain couldn’t help but smile back, even if he was only trying to make her feel better.

“Ugh, can you not flirt with my sister when I’m standing right here!” Nesta complained.

“We’re not flirting,” Elain squeaked.

“Shouldn’t you be going to bed?” Lucien asked at the same time.

A giggle bubbled out of her throat as Nesta planted her hands on her hips and stared Lucien down.

“It’s fine, Nes. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Nesta raised her eyebrow pointedly but took the hint. With one last menacing glare at Lucien she turned on her heel and headed for the stairs that would lead to Ravenclaw tower.

“So,” Elain said awkwardly. Now that they were alone she had absolutely no idea what to say. “What do you think the first trial will be?”

Lucien shrugged. “Since they’re not having us prepare, maybe it’ll be some type of puzzle or trap we have to get out of using magic, or maybe we’ll have to fight some type of magical creature…” His remaining russet eye glittered with amusement at that, and Elain gaped at him.

“Oh god! Do you really think that’s what it’ll be?” She had been picturing puzzles as well, or drills, or even an obstacle course, but not a duel.

Lucien winced at the look on her face. “Eris said they made the trials a lot safer than they used to be, so it can’t be anything impossible. And like they said- if sixth year students who are of age can enter, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to do it.”

Elain was not convinced. She was picturing all kinds of horrible creatures they might have to duel- everything from blast-ended skrewts to mandrakes to…oh Merlin…

“What if it’s dementors?” she whispered in horror.

Lucien let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Do you really think Professor Spell-Cleaver would allow dementors on school grounds? Besides, if it is, just send a patronus their way.”

He said this as if it was as easy as breathing. Elain knew he was right but she couldn't help her thoughts from spiraling.

“I’ve never been able to conjure a full patronus,” she admitted. “Only a wisp of smoke.”

“I could help you with that!” Lucien said eagerly. “I can do a patronus. I could teach you.”

Elain shuffled awkwardly, both at the offer and at the lack of cockiness in his tone. It was one thing to tell him off when he was being an ass but it was entirely more difficult when he was nice. “Oh! Um…”

“I mean, you know…if you want to,” he added, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging casually. “Strictly for academic purposes, of course,” he added with a grin. “I promise not to lure you into a garden picnic with false claims about tutoring…”

Elain giggled again, feeling herself flush as Lucien’s grin widened. “Is that what you do on dates? Picnics in gardens?”

“Ahh, well, I’d say you could find out, but since you’d only reject me again…”

“We’re not supposed to get help, you know. From teachers or other students. Professor Spell-Cleaver said so.”

Lucien raised a brow, his russet eye sparkling with humor. “Fine,” he said dismissively. “You can face those dementors on your own. Good night, Archie.”

With that he spun on his heel and headed for the marble staircase. Elain bit her lip, hating the way her stomach fluttered despite herself.

“Fine,” she blurted. Lucien stopped in his tracks and when he turned around his expression was as surprised as she felt. “Fine,” she repeated, aiming for aloof but probably falling short. “You can help with my patronus.”

Lucien’s grin was so wide it looked like it hurt. “And can I bring snacks?” he asked.

Elain choked on a laugh. “What?!”

“If I bring snacks does it make it a picnic?” His grin was devilish.

Elain shrugged primly and headed to the door leading to the Hufflepuff dormitories. “I guess it depends on the kind of snack,” she threw over her shoulder.

Lucien’s laughter echoed around the empty Entrance Hall. “Game on.”

His voice had gone down an octave, and a little shiver rocked through her. Elain paused halfway through the door and turned to face him again.

“Thank you for the Pygmy Puff,” she said quietly.

Lucien smiled again, not his trademark devilish grin but something softer that she knew not everybody saw.

“You’re very welcome, Archie.”

[folklorianhaze]

this year, to save me from tears

Pairing: Elain x Azriel (with some background Feysand and Nessian)

Rating: M (sexual themes, but nothing explicit)

Tags: One Shot, Solstice fic, post-ACOSF, canon-compliant, Forbidden Love, Sexual Tension, Elain-centric, no beta we die like the Weaver

Word Count: 3,827

Summary: Another year, another Solstice celebration at the Night Court. Elain Archeron can still remember the last time she saw Azriel over the holidays — the rose necklace he'd put around her neck, the way they'd nearly kissed before Rhysand interrupted. And while she might have done her best to accept that since then, Azriel has seemed to distance himself from her a bit, she can't bring herself to just sit quietly and not get some answers.

So this time, when she and Azriel are alone for a few minutes at the townhouse together (thanks in no small part to some scheming from Feyre) Elain has decided she's not going anywhere until Azriel explains why he's been avoiding her.

Oneshot. Post-ACOSF.

Read it on AO3 here!

As the day’s Solstice celebrations had slowly dwindled to a halt and the last whispers of daylight had disappeared beneath a glowing blue horizon, the cozy townhouse in Velaris had quieted at last. Where mere hours ago the space had been filled with roaring laughter and clinking dinnerware, the rustle of fabric as presents changed hands, playful dancing as a result of too much wine, now there was only restful silence. Save, of course, for the merry crackling of the fire in the hearth, a warm light to ward out the frosty winter chill waiting just outside those arched front doors. Outside the steadily darkening windows, snow fell in graceful, almost lazy flurries.

A tiny smile formed at the edges of Elain Archeron’s mouth at the sight — as she realized that Rhysand and Feyre had opted to fly home tonight to the river house, and that her youngest sister would be none too thrilled to get her hair (expertly curled by Nuala and Cerridwen hours earlier) wet and heavy with snow.

  Given how quickly the room had cleared out, Elain had to wonder if those ever-so-slightly rushed goodbyes and promises that they’d all meet up again in the morning were, in fact, her sister’s work. Feyre, who often regarded the dynamics within her Inner Circle with the same keen, careful gaze she used to paint an empty canvas, missed nothing — not even, it seemed, the way Elain and the Night Court’s spymaster had been looking at one another all evening.

Perhaps once, an entire lifetime ago, another person ago, Elain might have found it within herself to be embarrassed by the idea.

She supposed she still was, partly. No matter who it concerned, having your sister know — or at least suspect — intimate details of your romantic involvements was never exactly an ideal circumstance one dreamed of. The thought of Feyre not only seeing so clearly what had passed unspoken between them for so long, but making an effort to orchestrate situations where the two of them might be alone together, was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks.

 Especially when she got the sneaking suspicion that her sister’s mate . . . well, not entirely disapproved, but certainly wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Azriel spending so much time around Elain to begin with.

And she understood Rhysand’s worry. Truly, she did — or, at the very least, she had attempted to. With so much between the courts left in such a tenuous place following the war with Hybern, she supposed they were lucky enough to get peaceful Solstice gatherings like tonight’s at all.

But there was a part of her — a part that, recently, had become harder and harder to stifle or shut out — that secretly bristled at the idea of being treated like a child. Like a naive girl, incapable of making her own decisions or understanding the gravity of the situation. It had been that way for so long now; so many people, underestimating her, hiding her, protecting her rather than letting her step out on her own and . . . well, maybe see what she wanted from this new life she’d been granted.

Elain drew a shuddering sigh as she continued watching the snow silently fall, gathering at the edges of the windows, each individual crystal of white sparkling with breathtaking clarity through these new Fae eyes. She still hadn’t quite become accustomed to it yet, even though it had been what seemed like an eternity now since she’d been turned — not just the enhanced vision, but the newfound strength of her body, the arched ears, the inhuman face that stared back at her in the mirror each morning. How was it possible that she felt as if so much had changed, and yet as if she herself were still arrested in time — still frozen as the girl she’d been when she went into the Cauldron — all at once?

A noise at the far end of the room, so soft she might not have even heard it back when she’d still been a human, drew Elain’s attention. Reeling herself back in from her reverie, she blinked and turned slightly in her chair — and her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she found Azriel staring back at her.

No doubt he’d wanted to subtly alert her to the fact that he was there — knowing Azriel’s talents, he certainly could slip away unnoticed if he’d truly wanted to. Elain swallowed unevenly, taking in the surprise tinged with something unreadable on his face, something she dearly hoped wasn’t discomfort. Those eyes of his — they seemed to lance right through her, seemed to twist something deep in her chest without even trying.

Despite the charged glances passing between them all evening, he’d barely spoken to her during the Solstice activities. Whenever they’d been close enough that he’d been forced out of necessity to directly address her, his words had been formal, strained. And when she’d given him his gift — a thick, woolen blanket she’d painstakingly knitted herself, so that you can lie down anywhere and take a nice nap when this lot gets too exhausting for you, Elain had joked — he’d laughed along with the rest of the group, but his smile had been edged with pain, the amusement too obviously feigned for even the most unobservant person to mark it as genuine. She’d ducked her head to allow the curtain of her hair to fall forward, to keep anyone else in the room from seeing her reddening cheeks, the tears that had stung her eyes.

Perhaps Feyre had noticed more than she’d let on — perhaps, in her own way, this was part of her sister’s Solstice gift to her. An opportunity that she and Azriel might not have had, without Feyre distracting Rhys for the remainder of the night. An opportunity to talk to one another — really talk, and figure out where things had gone so horribly wrong between them.

“Hello,” Elain breathed at last, hoping her voice sounded less nervous than she felt. “I’m sorry, I was just—” she gestured back to the window, then glanced back at Azriel, at last deciding to rise from her seat. “I hope I haven’t been in your way at all.”

She smoothed out the skirts of her dark green gown, clearing her throat and trying to look busy. Obviously, if her presence had vexed him so much all night, then the last thing she wanted was to bother him any further.

This was a mistake, he’d told her once, on another Solstice that seemed so long ago now, when they’d been so close they were nearly sharing breath, so close she could nearly feel his lips upon hers.

  A mistake. Perhaps he was right. After all, who was she? Why would he ever — ever possibly want someone like —

“Please,” he said. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Perhaps there had once been a version of her that would have been cowed by his words. She’d been raised that way, to be polite and kind, to always be open to anything anyone — especially anyone male — had to say. Another girl had been taught those things, to dip her head and look shyly away from what she wanted and never hint to an inner life of her own.

  She’d always been the good one, and over the years she’d come to notice how very many people associated goodness with how willing you are to allow them to walk all over you.

But so much about her had changed now on the exterior — perhaps now was the time that she challenged everything that had become instinct so long ago, that something on the inside changed for her, as well.

Elain lifted her chin. “If I have truly done nothing wrong, then why have you refused to so much as acknowledge my existence tonight?” Her tone remained even, calm, but there was a frankness there that others around her seldom saw.

Azriel blinked, as if thrown by it, but other than that minuscule tell, she wasn’t entirely certain how her words had landed. The muscles in his strong jaw worked as he seemed to search for something to say. She waited, patient but unyielding.

“Elain,” he said at last, as if there were nothing else, nothing more that he could think of to justify his strangely cold behavior towards her. There was a note of resignation in his voice as he added, “If I was brusque, then I assure you it was no fault of yours. I just haven’t . . . it isn’t—”

“Please,” she nearly whispered. “Please, do not think of insulting me with lies. By presuming I cannot handle the truth. Tell me whatever it is I’ve done to bother you so, Azriel. Tell me you can’t stand to be near me any longer, fine — only don’t sit here and say one thing when I can so clearly see you mean another thing entirely.”

She hadn’t even realized that she’d started walking as she spoke to him, that she’d nearly cleared the distance between them by time the last syllable left her lips. Now in the following silence, he edged slightly closer to her, as well, until they were both standing nearer to one another than they’d been all night — than they’d been in a long while, actually. She couldn’t help but think of last Solstice, and the rose he’d tried to put around her neck, the way she’d nearly trembled to have his fingers brush against her collarbones —

“It truly isn’t your fault,” he said, and he sounded so terribly pained by it that, despite her frustration and despite his confusing behavior, she felt inclined to believe him. And she could hardly believe it as he lifted a hand to gently run his thumb along the curve of her jaw, her eyes fluttering as she leaned into the touch. “But you must have some idea why we can’t do this. Why I might have needed to create some . . . distance between us, since the last Solstice.”

Elain swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat, her gaze holding Azriel’s as she searched his expression. As she tried to push past all the inner tumult she felt roiling off of him to get to the heart of whatever he must be feeling. That he was letting her see this much at all, that he had drawn so close to her, touched her when he seemed to be so averse to the very idea, was a feat all its own. And it certainly hinted at some great conflict within him.

“Is it Rhysand?” She hardly dared to ask, but once the words had escaped her, there was no shoving them back in. “The look on his face last year, when he came into the room and — and you and I —”

Something in Azriel’s face closed off, became distant and removed as he took in her statement. “He is my High Lord,” he replied, though even the Night Court’s finest spymaster could scarcely disguise how halfhearted it sounded. “If I were to act against his wishes, go behind his back and betray his trust — I couldn’t,” he said.

Elain set her jaw. Paused for a moment, not daring to tear her gaze away from his, as she searched for the right things to say. Would it be better to comfort, to soothe, as had always been her instinct? Or would standing her ground prove the better method here? She had never felt the need to shrink away or make herself smaller, more palatable for Azriel before, and she doubted it would be effective with him if she started now.

  For a heartbeat, she found herself wishing she was a little more like Nesta or Feyre — her fierce, beautifully unapologetic sisters who would have had absolutely no qualms over making a man grovel a bit before accepting any forgiveness. They had never been raised to put kindness over everything else, including one’s own feelings. She had always admired that freedom within them because of it, maybe even been envious of it. To her, it would be as natural as breathing to defer to someone else, to concede an argument in the name of keeping the peace.

But for just a few moments, she truly wished she could march right up to the High Lord of the Night Court himself and give him a piece of her mind.

“He was angry with you,” she said, as if the weight of such a realization had finally settled onto her shoulders. She was no fool, of course, and had suspected Rhysand’s watchful eyes keeping Azriel well away from her for a while, but to have it all but confirmed . . . to know that her sister’s mate truly disapproved so strongly of them being like this . . . “I saw him last year, on the — the staircase. When we were about to — well. I hadn’t realized that he’d given you such a hard time about it afterwards.”

Azriel’s typically calm, steady gaze flickered, and something twisted deep in Elain’s gut. Even without a verbal confirmation, that one look had been enough for her to know the truth.

People occasionally underestimated that about her — how gifted she’d lately become at reading those around her. Perhaps nothing like the shadowsinger’s own skill set, which had been honed through years of the kind of brutality she couldn’t even begin to imagine, but still, a trait she was proud of.

Or maybe it was simply that she’d spent so much time noticing Azriel’s presence, studying him closely, waiting to see if he would do anything, say anything . . . maybe she’d just gotten better at reading him in particular.

“He was right to correct me,” Azriel finally admitted, and she hoped he couldn’t see the flicker of hurt she couldn’t stop from crossing her features — hoped, even though she knew he would. He noticed everything, especially when it came to her. “Things are too tenuous right now between the other courts. The last thing we need is Lucien catching wind of this between us, and—”

“Lucien,” Elain practically spat, finally allowing some of that frustration to swim to the surface from where she usually kept it buried so deep. “Everyone is always so concerned with protecting Lucien’s feelings.”

“It isn’t only his feelings Rhys aims to protect, Elain. A Blood Duel between us, it could mean war.”

  But the explanation was feeble, and both of them knew it. She knew it from the way his eyes kept drifting down to her mouth, to the rise and fall of her chest just above the heart-shaped neckline of her gown.

“Has anyone thought to wonder what I have to say on the subject, then?” she said, and she couldn’t help but feel the briefest sparkle of pride that her voice remained steady, unwavering. “Everyone has given so much thought to what Rhysand thinks, or what Lucien will think. What about what I think? What I wish for myself.”

“What do you want, Elain?” The question was low, pulled from Azriel in barely a whisper.

His words hung in the air between them, a thousand different meanings to attribute to the same statement. What she truly wanted . . . she supposed she’d only recently been given the time and space to think about it. Once, she’d thought that all she’d wanted was to be Graysen’s wife, to be the kind, dutiful human woman he’d always believed her to be. Once, she’d wanted a garden, an enormous field of her own to tend, to escape and ignore the realities of a world for which she’d always been told she was too soft. Once, she had been content to let others direct her wherever they willed, had always just assumed they knew better, since no one had ever given her the chance to try for herself.

Who was she, now that so much had changed? Now that she herself had changed?

It only took a moment for Elain Archeron to decide that what she wanted, more than anything, was to simply be seen for who she truly was. For someone to look at her and not see a pretty, mindless doll that needed constant guarding, or a weakling too afraid to lift her face up from her flowers long enough to truly make a difference in the world . . . but to just see her as Elain. To not reject the softness or demand she shuck away her kindness in order to be respected. To allow her to exist as both someone understanding, empathetic and as someone who would not be taken advantage of.

After all this time, she was tired. Tired of having others’ choices or wills forced upon her. Tired of these so-called unseen forces who were apparently so fit to decide the fates of everyone in the known realm. She had been in that Cauldron. She had seen her sister steal from its very essence. Who was she to answer to its will now, when she and Nesta had both peered into its very soul — and survived it?

Who was she, to allow any Cauldron to choose for her which person she should love?

“I want . . .” she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes again flicked up to meet Azriel’s, any words dying in her throat at the naked yearning in his stare. She was arrested by it — frozen to the spot, even as her heart thrilled at the sight of it.

And she supposed his control slipped — she supposed both of them were alone, and eager, and perhaps still a bit too rosy from the wine to think too much of the consequences any longer — supposed that they both had realized that now was as good a time as any to give up the fight — as the shadowsinger surged forward and pulled her into a kiss that stole her breath.

Her body went molten and deliciously pliant in his arms, and the kisses took on a frenzied, heated edge, their breaths shuddering in the space between them. Those beautiful, scarred hands of his seemed to be everywhere at once — a comforting pressure at the small of her back, between her shoulder blades, sliding along her waist, her ribs, as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her. As if he wanted to drink his fill of her as much as he possibly could, in case they had to stop. In case they came to their senses and realized that they should stop.

But Elain found herself rebelling against the idea, raging against it in her very spirit. Last year, she’d been stopped. Ever since then, all those shared glances, those secret moments passing between the two of them that no one else could notice, those little excuses to touch each other or suddenly become so conspicuously quiet if they had to be in the same room together . . . it had all built up to this. All one grand release of tension, a wave that threatened to sweep her under. And though she was surprised by the force of it, Elain couldn’t bring herself to be entirely afraid.

And the townhouse — the townhouse was empty, she realized as his hands found their way into her hair, as his mouth now trailed its way down the curve of her neck and drew delightful noises from her that she supposed she ought to be embarrassed of making. It was just the two of them here, and they had time, they could —

As if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts, Azriel murmured roughly, “I — I’m expected at the House of Wind soon. Cassian and Nesta, they’re waiting for me.”

Elain had the distinct feeling that Cassian and Nesta were currently engaging in more or less the same activities as them at the moment, but she only breathed, “So we — we’ll make it quick.”

Azriel ran his thumb along the corner of her kiss-swollen mouth, saying thickly, “This — Elain, it’s not the sort of thing I want to do quickly.”

The words alone were enough to set the sudden heat between her legs to pounding. Yes, from the look on his face, she could tell that he’d waited a good long while for this, and didn’t intend to rush it. And the thought of it, the way he seemed so intent on so thoroughly worshiping her —

“Who knows the next time we’ll have a chance at all,” Elain said, praying inwardly that her voice hadn’t taken on a wheedling edge. “I — I can’t bear to go back to how we were before — with you barely looking at me, not even able to touch me if Rhys or the others are in the room.”

“We’ll have another chance, and then some,” he promised her, a ferocity in his voice she hadn’t heard there before. He brought her in for another kiss to punctuate his sentence, this one slower, more luxuriant. “I promise you, I won’t be cold to you any longer. Not if it hurts you, I — I never want to hurt you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she realized for the first time just how badly she’d wanted that reassurance — from anyone, but especially from him. Feeling safe, that was what she wanted. Now that the war with Hybern had ended, now that life had finally started to gain some semblance of settling down again. Now that she was High Fae and had an entire eternity ahead of her.

“Then don’t pull away from me again,” she breathed, and he nodded his head, as if he’d do anything she asked, as if he wouldn’t even question it. “We’ll . . . we’ll do whatever we need to do in order to get by, in front of the others. But this . . . I’d like to continue this with you. In secret. Whenever we can. For as long as we need to, until . . . ”

“Until everyone else can learn to mind their business,” Azriel filled in with the barest of smiles, so soft that to anyone else, it may not have looked like a change in expression at all.

  But Elain knew — she could see it in the way those stunning eyes glinted in the light from the blazing hearth fire.

  So she laughed, a breathy, disbelieving thing, and nodded her head in agreement.

And she knew that sneaking around was dangerous, that Rhys’ wrath if he ever found out would be something to behold, but she couldn’t help herself any longer. Couldn’t stay away.

“In that case,” Elain whispered, her mouth lifting into the beginnings of a playful smirk as she leaned in and nibbled at his ear, “don’t stay away for too long. I hope to continue from where we left off soon.”

Azriel chuckled, low in his throat. “I promise. When you’ve put it that way, how could I do otherwise?” And then, more gently than before, brushing a lock of burnished gold hair from her face: “Happy Solstice, Elain.”

Her only answer was to reel him in for another lingering kiss.

[duskcowboy]

Things that get me hyped about Elain’s book:

Elain has gone from the cowardly/weak-interpreted sister, to showing she’s capable of getting her hands dirty and standing her ground. I can’t wait to see the culmination of this build up. SJM will finally pull the trigger on Elain’s badass seer arc.

Eain’s powers still have a HUGE question mark. We still don’t know the extent of her powers. I’ve personally never read a story with a seer as the MC and cannot wait for it!

Her training arc. Will it be like Feyre and Nesta’s or will we see something different? I love theories she’ll be doing stealth/spy training.

Her friendship with Cerridwen and Nuala. Friendship trio pattern anyone?? I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I love their dynamic too. They bake, garden, but what if they’re the ones teaching her spy techniques?

Her relationship with the Mother. The carved rose symbolizing Elain placed next to the one of a full-bodied woman Nesta guesses is the Mother. Nesta had her encounter with the Mother, what will happen with Elain? The bonus scene with Az witnessed by only THE MOTHER. So many hints that there’ll be something there with the Mother in the plot of Elain’s book.

Elain was “made” differently than Nesta. While Nesta took her powers from the cauldron, Elain was gifted hers. What does this mean? Why did the cauldron purr in her presence? Is it a coincidence she’s the one it stole from camp?

The mystery around her stabbing the King of Hybern. How did she get there? Were those shadows Az’s or something else? Was it her powers that told her to be there? I need to know!

Will she stay in the NC? Many argue it’s foreshadowed she won’t stay, but if so, where will she go? Does the Dusk Court Theory come into play? Will she go to a different court? Or will she follow her desire to just travel? Or will she actually stay where she is?

Will we finally see the Archeron sisters come together in equal force? Really mend that relationship and come out stronger?

Will we finally find out more about the Archeron sisters’ mom? We know very little but there’s hints their mother knew things about Prythian (like when Tam asked Feyre “didn’t your mother tell you?”)

Is gardening her “art”? Like Feyre with painting or Nesta with dancing? Or does she have something else too?

Is there more to her earplug gift to Az? Maybe something to do with the Lightsinger theory in connection to siren mythology?

What’s the fourth trove and how will she find it?

Will she uncover and help those trapped within the prison’s mountain? Who are they?

And of course, who will she end up with?! And how will it unfold? Will the mating bond be rejected? Is the True Mates or Two Mates Theory true?? I need to know!

If it isn’t obvious already, I have so many questions I need answered! Please comment anything else you can think of! I cannot wait to see everything Elain is capable of and diving head first into her journey!

[elriell]

Things I need from the next ACOTAR book;

Elain and Mor finding common ground in being promised in a sense to a “Vanserra” and having more nice conversations like the one they had during the war. Also more clarity on the Az/Mor dynamic.

Elain and Rhys being siblingly/and protective over each other but having some angst over the POV and resolving it. Coupled with more dorky/fun scenes with Cass.

I would love for Elain to interact with Vassa to in the search for the troves/Koschei stuff, also would be a great lead in to finally breaking some ice between her and Lucien and them finding their respective peace in their situation. (Accepting the bond is not right for them etc…)

More information on what it means to be a seer, the cauldrons gifts, and potential Nuala/Cerridwen teaching Elain tricks of the trade.

Elain and Nesta sitting down and fleshing it all out, on both sides finding resolution and happiness within each other.

Azriel and Elain visiting other courts and exploring within the plot (kind of like Feysand did seeing Tarquin in ACOMAF) but we know Elain wanted to travel way back when and would be a lovely call back.

DUSK COURT REVEAL.

Mor and Emerie scenes also, bringing some of ACOSF full circle. Seeing the Valkyries pass through and their friendship not be brushed aside even if its just mentioned by Nesta. Kind of like Helions reappearances through the series…

BALTHAZAR MAYBE?

What the heck is going on in the AC and with Eris, will this tie im to Mor knowing something more?? IDk but I need some clarity on these scattered breadcrumbs.

MORE ARCHERON SISTERS

Sleeping Beauty retelling PLS but ala reverse

Probs many more but yh pls share yours too x

[yazthebookish]

So ik many e/riel have the argument of ‘she must stay with her sisters’ ‘she’s can’t leave her sisters and live in another court’ I’m sorry but when exactly did they have a stable relationship that all of a sudden makes it hard for her to leave her sisters? It’s not like they had a close relationship to begin with. Plus they keep saying that elain needs to make her own choice (not choosing Lucien but az) yet once there’s canonical evidence that she isn’t comfortable in the night court her choice don’t matter bcz she can’t leave her sisters? These are the same people that claim that she should have her own choice yet completely disregard her choice of living independently away from her family. let me tell you one thing, this sounds extremely misogynistic that her choice only matters when it has something to do with a man and not her actual mental health. please excuse my English, it’s not my first language hahaha

Hello anon,

Your English is great don't worry!❤️

Why must she stay with her sisters? It's not like Feyre and Nesta are living together. Sure they kind of mended what's between them but each sister has her main circle. For Feyre it's the Inner Circle and for Nesta it's the Valkyries.

The Archeron Sisters never developed this pure and powerful bond like other sisters that grew up loving and caring for one another. Not saying that they didn't we obviously saw how overprotective Nesta was of Elain but while they are sisters but they're strangers to one another at the same time. I could blame it on the trauma and neglect they were subjected to growing up, and it's not like they'll brush all that happened under the rug and be besties.

They can always love one another as sisters and care for their well-being, but they'll never have this strong bond like the one Feyre shares with Mor and Amren or the one Nesta shares with Gwyn and Emerie. You can see how unique their dynamic is and how they fit together.

Feyre even called Elain a "pleasant companion" but wouldn't be the first person she'll seek out when she needs to open up about something, here is the passage from her bonus chapter:

She even questions if Elain would resent the judgement... she is judging her sister as a person and knows she's resent anyone that thought the same of her.

The Archeron sisters don't have a stable relationship. They've been toxic for one another growing up, their new life doesn't change that. Surely they are at better terms, but I don't see them being the type of sisters that need to be near each other all the time.

And ah the topic of choice... I'll be honest with you anon I don't take them seriously. Nothing will be Elain's choice unless it is connected to Azriel.

They take it so personal and get upset when someone suggests that Nuala and Cerridwen won't be Elain's circle or "found family". I don't have any issues with them, I do like them but they're tertiary characters. Friendship is one of the most important storylines for the main characters in all of SJM's books and just like she wouldn't write an off-page romance, she wouldn't write an off-page friendship.

Does that mean they are not Elain's friends? No they definitely are and had a big role in helping Elain get better and they do care about her, however I don't see how they would contribute to the plot or what roles they would play and don't tell me about the "spy ring" because Elain doesn't have it in her to be one. A diplomat or a courtier? Very likely but... a Spy? 1. Azriel won't agree to it, 2. She isn't trained for it (spying isn't just being good at keeping secrets and at stealth), 3. What will this "spy circle" do? Spy on who? Autumn Court? Sorry that plot belongs to Lucien. Spy on human queens? There are many wards around them even Azriel was prevented from going to spy on Briallyn in the palace. It's not like Azriel needs more spies, from what he mentions he does have his own spies. Spy training is not like combat training the Valkyries went through, there isn't time for Elain to train to be a spy.

And before someone pulls out the misogyny and erasure card (I am not saying this because of their background or occupation), please show me in the text how it hints that those two characters would be connected to the plot besides being part of Elain's little "spy circle"? We haven't seen them present in important moments they're mostly in the background.

They remind me of how Alis was for Feyre in ACOTAR, she was someone that cared about Feyre and helped her but didn't contribute to the plot.

Elain just followed her sisters, she didn't make a choice when she moved to the Night Court, she just followed. Sure she claimed she was part of this court and would help but that's more of wanting to convince herself that she is and partly to challenge Nesta after she embarrassed her in front of everyone about not being interesting.

You know, they don't care about her having other choices because you do not see them visualize her in a setting that is not connected to Azriel. Her choice only matters when it connects her to Azriel. They dismiss what the canon text says about the black color of the Night Court sucking the life out of her, how Nesta thinks the Spring Court was made for someone like Elain, how Elain herself says she needs sunshine and the constant connections to flowers and Spring made to her. I'm not even making this up, it's all in the books. We even had Feyre and Nesta mentioning how Elain had wanted to travel the continent; like really.. out of all three sisters and with the new expansion of the map that shows more of the continent who do you think would go there if not Elain? And going to the continent ties her plot to Koschei/Vassa and Lucien.

So this is what I think of it.

[offtorivendell]

Yes! Also, it's become clear that even Nesta doesn't truly seem to see Elain for who she is:

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realised, to see Elain as loyal and loving as a dog... - ACOSF, chapter 44

And Feyre said she wouldn't go to Elain first, with any troubles, reducing her to a "pleasant companion":

And while I might never run to Elain first with problems, or for advice... - ACOSF, Feyre’s bonus chapter

Elain must know or, at the very least, suspect, what her sisters think of her; that they don't believe her to be capable of much. This, coming from family, would hurt.

Given they don't appear to trust her with anything of substance beyond the gardens of Velaris, it's not a stretch to consider the fact that Elain may feel unable to open up - to be her true self - around her sisters.

I wouldn't be surprised if Elain finds it easier to be open with Az, Nuala and Cerridwen - just as Feyre and Nesta did with their respective partners and friends - so the assumption that Elain is too shy to enjoy sex, or explore her own kinks, is so strange to me.

*Edit* this is not me blaming any of the Archeron sisters for the dysfunctional family dynamics for which their parents are responsible.

Some: Elain is so shy and innocent, she can’t even discuss periods or sex with Nesta. How can she ever be with kinky Azriel?

Elain–has premarital sex, finds pleasure in it, doesn’t want to discuss Nesta’s  sexual escapades as to not slut-shame her, then instigates most of the Solstice interaction, while offering a resounding ‘yes’. 

Maybe not so bashful and inexperienced after all?

[bloodofthefates]

X. remembering Elain gifted the twins cozy fuzzy blankets for solstice is so cute & happy. for being so naturally cold, they just want cuddles to be cozy and warm.

[bloodofthefates]

x. ❛  why have you brought me here?  ❜ (elain to cerridwen) from @homebehind

Cerridwen often moved through her existence like the wisps of smoke and shadow she was made from; without detection and remaining silent. She was a creature of even fewer words than Azriel, so selective in her use of vocalization that few even beyond her twin sister had ever witnessed or experienced it. Elain’s question brought a sheepish smile to her dark lips, head ducking and bowing in a show of both shyness and servitude as she gently guided Elain forward with the sweep of her slender hand toward the kitchen island. She had recalled the Lady’s request made of both her and her sister Nuala, that she wished to learn her way around a kitchen in a small step of gaining independence for herself by means of self-sufficiency in something as simple as food. The younger of the twins understood that drive for autonomy, to work for one’s self to achieve something on their own merits when her entire life she’d only existed as a complementary part of a pair. Laid out on the woodblock counter were various dry ingredients; a simple spread compared to most Fae fare but everyone needed to start somewhere. As if the point of her directing them into the kitchen wasn’t obvious enough, Cerriden stepped forward and softly took hold of Elain’s forearm to push her hand forward toward one of the bowls. With her own nearly talonlike hand, she dipped it into dry flour to scoop out a handful before depositing it onto the counter and spreading it around with the flats of her palms. Looking up to Elain, searching for comprehension and understanding, Cerriden offered another encouraging smile as she nodded. Mirroring her actions, she moved to place Elain’s hands on the counter to push the flour around, uncaring for the small clouds of dust that had already puffed up and made its way onto the material of her sheer black paneled skirt. With a soft hum of her lips, Cerridwen swiftly ran the tip of her index finger through the flour and turned to boop Elain right on the nose with a surprising playfulness and lack of decorum she’d previously possessed in the company of the middle Archeron sister. Her black eyes danced with the hint of mischief, as if daring Elain to play along and find her way back to smiling again one small step at a time.