#ELAIN ARCHERON

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑬𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏

Summary: The 4 times the Night Court’s Shadowsinger mentioned… someone, and the first time his family got the promise of an answer. 

Content: Angst, with the promise of future fluff

Warnings: Angst, I like making Azriel sad sorry, I also take the ‘mate talk’ in the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter and rewrite it to fit this story. I also haven’t read CC yet so apologies if Bryce is OOC Azriel x OC [not introduced in this part]

*Slight spoilers for the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter

Bryce turned to the fae female next to her, “You have a mate, don’t you?” Nesta simply nodded in response, a slight smile forming on her face, followed by a deep blush. “Do you?” The red head directed at Azriel.

Nesta’s stomach dropped. She knew it was a sore subject for the Shadowsinger. What with everyone else in his family being mated except for him-

“I do.” He said, a trace of apprehension in his voice. Nesta’s head snapped to face him so quickly that her vision spun for a moment, causing her to stumble.

Regaining her footing, she barked out, “Azriel? What the fuck do you mean?”

The trio stopped walking for a moment, tension settling over the once calm night air. She gave him a demanding, and slightly betrayed, look. Even though his eyes met hers, Azriel kept quiet. Bryce simply looked between the two, face wrinkling in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Ah. A sore subject, I guess?” Bryce laughed, or tried to, it only came out forced and uncomfortable. 

“Who, Az? How come I had no idea? Does anyone know?” There wasn’t anger in her voice, just hurt. 

He had to bite back his usual replies, the ones he gave to his family when they tried to ask questions or bring up the topic without him bringing it up first. Not that he ever did. 

“She’s-” he swallowed. Cauldron, when would he finally be able to talk about her without wishing the world would swallow him whole? “It’s not something I want to discuss right now, especially with present company.” He sent a pointed look at Bryce. He couldn’t hide the misery in his tone this time though as he took a deep breath and continued, “I will tell you about her, Nes. One day. I’d just rather do it on my own terms. On my own time.” Nesta opened her mouth, seconds away from arguing, when he put a hand on her shoulder, “Please.” he begged, softly. 

The glimmer of silver in his eyes caught her off guard, gave her such a knee jerk reaction of protectiveness that she gave him a crushing hug. It was strange, this feeling. Azriel, the broody, closed off, terrifying, annoyingly perceptive, kind, and unbelievably loving friend she never knew she needed had just revealed a part of himself she could tell he kept locked away for good reason. The thought that even the mention of his mate could bring him to tears made her heart break in a way she thought impossible after all she had been through. 

She took a deep breath as she pulled away, “When you’re ready,” she agreed.

He smiled back at her, while it was genuine, one of the few he reserved for his family, there was still insurmountable pain in his eyes. 

Nesta turned back to Bryce, “Can you play more of your music? Just none of that screaming one.” She asked, shaking her head at the memory of the Death Metal genre she hadn’t liked when the redhead had played it for them. 

She smiled softly as she felt Azriel squeeze her hand in a silent Thank you before he let go. 

The High Lord sat, feet propped up on his desk. “When do you head out for Rosehall?” He asked.

Azriel, standing by the window to the right of his brother, answered, “The morning after Solstice.” Rhysand grimaced when he heard the mask of indifference his Spy Master had in his voice. “I still need to pick up a gift before I go.”

Rhys took it for the invitation it was. “Would you buy her something from me? On my account this time.” He tried to put on his commanding-High-Lord voice as he said it, but he knew very well that Azriel wouldn’t listen to the last part of his request even as his brother smiled in agreement as he walked out of the room, sending an inclination of goodbye to his High Lady in the chair across from her mate. 

“Rosehall? What female is he visiting the day after Solstice?” Feyre spoke into her mate’s mind. 

Despite Rhys’ usual inability to keep anything from his mate, he couldn't bring himself to explain, couldn’t bring himself to cross the very clear lines his brother had set all those years ago. 

“It's not my story to tell. And don’t ask someone else, if any of them know, they also won’t talk.” 

Certainly not the answer she had expected, as was evident by the look on Feyre’s face.

“And if I ask Azriel?” she inquired.

“It will just bring up things he isn't ready to share. He will come to you- come to us- some day.” ‘One day’ Azriel had promised his family long ago, long before their family had been as big as it was now. “I just pray it's under better circumstances.” 

Feyre froze, feeling the weight of mixed negative emotions flowing down from her mate’s side of the bond. For once, she was even more confused after asking Rhysand for more information. 

“Well, I believe we’ve reached the threshold of faked amiability before one of us attacks the other. We should quit while we’re ahead.” Eris said as he stood up from his chair, starting to grab his papers without so much as a glance to his reluctant hosts. Even years after their alliance was set in stone with the agreement from the Night Court to back Eris’ claim to his father’s throne, even after fighting beside them in war, these faked niceties could only go on for so long before the claws came out. 

No one in the Night Court’s Inner circle could say there was anything but relief to see the Autumn Court’s High Lord walk away. But before they could let out a breath of relief, Eris stopped and turned to the Shadowsinger. 

“I have received word that your… gift has been finished. I will send someone to get it to you within the week.” 

Azriel’s head quickly snapped to Eris, “And they were able to meet all my requests?” He asked, not caring that everyone else in the room watched the interaction with fierce intrigue. 

The eldest living Vanserra boy scoffed, “I assured you they’d be able to.” Azriel let out a relieved breath at that. While he’d known Eris’ court capable of such a thing, it wasn’t much more difficult than lesser magics, but hearing it confirmed ignited hope he didn’t know he still carried.

“Thank you. She’ll love it.” The Spy Master replied earnestly, much to Eris’, as well as the rest of the Inner Circle’s, shock. 

The red haired fae simply schooled his features and nodded in response before winnowing away. 

Despite the heaviness all the secrets and questions caused, everyone remained silent as they watched Azriel slip out of the room. 

The dining room had been filled with loud chatter for the weekly family dinner. Love filled teasing and relentless jokes put everyone in a good mood. Nothing felt better to the Night Court’s Inner Circle than being all together. Unfortunately, it had to come to an end. 

“I’ll be leaving for a few days.” Azriel told Rhysand, who was sitting to his left at the head of the table. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He quickly added. 

“I thought you were leaving the day after?” 

“I was, but the package I had been waiting on came, and I’d like to deliver it as soon as possible. I’ll drop your gift off too.” With that, Azriel got up, nodding a quick goodbye to his family, before disappearing into his shadows.

It wasn’t a request to have a few days off. He hadn’t asked if his High Lord could spare not having his Spymaster for a little. He didn’t even wait for any sort of goodbye from the rest of his family. He just left, the house sending his place setting away to be cleaned, as if he had never been there in the first place. 

Once again, everyone had questions, concerns, for their friend. But no one spoke up, as per usual. 

Until the one fae in the room with truly no information in the matter grew concerned enough with everyone’s immediate change in attitudes. 

“Where is he going?” Elain asked, looking between her friends and family. 

She saw on everyone's faces, in their eyes that refused to meet hers, that no one would tell her. Till she sent a look, full of concerned innocence, to Cassian. 

“Rosehall” He blurted out. “Or at least, I assume that's where he is going.” The last part was directed towards his older brother. 

“Where is this Rosehall?” Feyre asked, feeling he invitation Elain’s question had opened into the untouchable subject. 

The High Lady, like her second oldest sister, sent a look to Rhys, knowing he'd break for her under an embarrassingly small amount of pressure. 

“None of us know,” he gave in, “He goes at seemingly random intervals. Sometimes he’s there, often, for months. Then he will go quite a while without any visits.”

“Is it his mate? Is that who he is seeing?” Nesta inquires. 

The word seems to suck all the air out of the room. His mate. Azriel’s mate. Their brother’s mate.

Nesta’s stomach drops at the looks she receives from Cassian and Rhysand. 

They didn’t know. 

As she opens her mouth to speak, she’s cut off by a palm smacking the table.

“Enough! You all know damn well this isn’t what he would want. The only reason you all seem so comfortable talking about it is because he's gone, too preoccupied to leave a shadow behind.” Mor argues. “He has asked one thing of us in the 500 years he has been by our side, to let him- let them- be.”

With that, she winnowed out of the room, leaving a suffocating mix of guilt, confusion, and concern behind. 

Everyone could feel his presence the second he got back to the house. The light and happy Solstice air seemed to vanish in an instant. The shadows suddenly alive and wreathing. 

Rhys and Cassian had gotten up to check on their brother. While he had said he’d be gone till Solstice, they had assumed he would be there the full day to celebrate with everyone. But he had missed celebrations, for both Solstice and Feyre’s birthday, had missed dinner, and had sent no indication that he was even alive. His mental walls had been as fortified as ever, not letting Rhysand nor Feyre in the numerous times they had tried to check in. 

Their walk over to their brother’s room became a run, followed by the rest of the family, as they heard a loud crash. 

The room was dark, but they could make out the faint outline of the broken mirror and Shadowsinger standing in front of it, holding his hand as blood seemed to drip from a wound. In the dark, the sight was unsettling, but in the light, it was far worse. 

Cassian moved quickly, leaving Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle by the door in stunned silence. 

“Woah-” Cassian said as he lifted Azriel’s hand, causing his brother to pull back in startled shock. He hadn’t known they were coming. Hadn’t sensed their presence even then they were right in front of him.

“It’s okay, Az. But we need to clean out the wound. Make sure there aren't any shards in-” The general stopped as he looked at the Spymaster, seeing the tears streaming down his usually stone cold face. 

All he could do was help him sit down as Mor, seemingly better equipped to handle the situation, came over to kneel in front of her long time friend. 

“Az?” She took his uninjured hand in hers, her other hand going to his face to wipe away the tears. “Come on, maybe you shoul-”

“She’s gotten worse.” He admitted, his voice noticeably wobbling, “So much worse, Mor.” 

Mor quickly looked at everyone else, seeing the shock, the empathy, and worse of all, the pity. She knew more than the others, not the full story, not even close, but enough to know that their reactions were part of why he kept all of it a secret. He couldn’t handle their emotions on top of his.

By the time she looked back, she saw that Azriel had noticed it too. She could see him shrinking back into himself, trying to hide everything. 

She couldn’t let it happen again. 

“Let me in, Azriel. Don’t pretend, don’t go through 200 more years of this.” She pleaded. Luckily, this seemed to pull him back out. “Let us all in, please?”

“I can’t- I don’t want pity.” He admitted.

Rhysand spoke up this time. “Is that what you think this is? Just pity? Az, come on. We all love you, we want you to be happy. But we don’t want fake happiness. Seeing you like this makes us all upset, because we love you. Please, let us prove it. Let us in.” Rhysand begged. 

Azriel gave them all a onceover, emotion showing so clearly in his face, in his eyes, that no one seemed to be able to breathe. 

He took a deep breath before speaking up, “Tomorrow. I’ll explain- show you all, tomorrow. For now, I’d just like to celebrate Solstice, and your birthday, Feyre, with my family.” 

The air lightened up a little bit at the promise. Tomorrow, they’d all face what Azriel had been dealing with alone for 200 years. But tonight, they would all celebrate Solstice, the return of light and promise of a brighter future, as a family. 

[nikethestatue]

Interesting how both Azriel and Elain are the two people in the IC who are referred to as ‘Prince’ and ‘princess’.

Pretty random.

Or is it?

[shadowedpetals]

Today's highlight 🌸🦇

[ater-love]

Seeking, yearning, reaching hands

Literally Elriel

seeking, yearning, reaching hands

[ater-love]

“Elain cocked her head. Didn’t dissolve into the crying mess she usually became when Graysen came up.”

ACOSF, chapter 17

“Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel ... those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he'd given up. after five hundred years, he'd somehow given up. Cassian couldn't think why”.

ACOSF, chapter 22

[kvsoin]

An interrupted almost-kiss is a total staple of classic romance. It’s pretty clear that the near-kiss is always going to lead to the real thing eventually.

"they didnt kiss so they dont belong to each other" bestie, be fr.

[shadowsingers-mate]

In the Fire's Embrace (Elucien Fic)

Summary: In the heart of battle, amidst steel and fire, Elain is seized by a vision—her body frozen, her mind lost to the storm of prophecy. Lucien is by her side in an instant; becoming her shield, her sword, her sanctuary.

A/N: The fabulous artwork used in this fic was made by the lovely @works-of-heart . Kudos to you, I love everything you create. Link to her artwork is here. Go and show some love to her creations!

The battlefield smelled of blood and steel, of burnt flesh and magic thick as storm clouds.

Lucien had long since stopped trying to count the bodies. His blade was slick with blood, his muscles ached from the relentless dance of war, but he did not stop. He could not stop. Not when Elain was here. Not when his mate—his delicate, steel-spined mate—had insisted on coming to the front lines.

He had fought wars before. He had seen battles more gruesome than this, had survived hellscapes that would have driven lesser males mad. But never—not once—had he been this afraid.

Not for himself.

For her.

Elain.

She had stayed behind the main assault, positioned where the healers worked frantically over the wounded, where the risk was supposed to be minimal. But something had pulled her forward—some invisible force, some call in her bones that Lucien could feel through the bond. It had yanked her away from safety, had made her steps quick and desperate, her breath uneven.

And then—she froze.

Lucien saw it from across the battlefield. Saw her go still, her hands limp at her sides, her eyes wide and unseeing.

Terror slashed through him.

He ran.

His body moved before his mind could catch up, dodging spells, blades, the screams of dying soldiers. He cut down anyone in his path, uncaring of how many fell before him.

Because Elain was not moving.

He reached her just as an enemy lifted a blade to strike—

Lucien’s roar tore through the battlefield.

The male did not even have time to register his mistake before Lucien was upon him. With a brutal, vicious slice, he severed the soldier’s hand from his wrist, then drove his sword into his chest. Blood sprayed across the dirt, the male’s body crumpling at Elain’s feet.

She did not react.

Lucien barely noticed as he turned, blade flashing, cleaving through another enemy that dared step too close.

Elain was still standing there. Lost. Her pupils were blown wide, her chest rising and falling in short, rapid breaths.

A vision.

Lucien had never seen one take hold of her this way. Never seen her so utterly consumed, so paralyzed by whatever images had seized her mind.

And she was defenseless.

A war waged around them, soldiers surging in from every direction, and she stood in the middle of it all, an unmoving target.

Lucien moved.

He grabbed her, his arm a band of iron, sweeping her into his arms, pressing her against his chest, shielding her from the chaos. His other hand lifted his sword once more.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice thick, wild, as he pressed his lips to her temple.

She did not respond.

Lucien braced his legs and fought.

With one arm locked around her, he became a living, breathing shield, swinging his blade with deadly precision. His muscles burned, his wounds screamed, but none of it mattered.

Because his mate was in his arms, vulnerable, and there was nothing—nothing—he would not do to protect her.

A spell arced toward them—dark, curling magic meant to kill.

Lucien snarled, twisting them both so his back took the brunt of it, fire licking along his spine. His teeth ground together, the pain sharp, searing—but Elain did not feel it.

She did not so much as flinch.

"Come back to me, sweet girl," he rasped against her hair, his voice barely audible over the din of war.

He could feel the vision holding her captive, could feel the distance in the bond—like she was slipping further, further, into something he could not reach.

"Elain." His voice was raw, desperate.

Another soldier lunged. Lucien pivoted, his grip tightening around her waist as he swung his sword in a deadly arc, slicing through the male’s throat. Blood splattered across his face, hot and sticky, but he did not loosen his hold on her.

Never.

Another attack. Another. They came like a tide, relentless and hungry, and Lucien fought them all, his body a barrier, his blade an executioner.

His breath was ragged, his heartbeat wild, but he did not stop.

Because she was in his arms. And he would burn the world before he let it take her from him.

Another arrow shot toward them. Lucien barely had time to shift, taking the hit to his shoulder with a sharp grunt.

"Come back," he growled against her ear, tugged at their bond. "Come back, Elain. I need you."

She did not respond.

Fear crawled up his throat. His grip on her tightened. What if she did not return? What if whatever had stolen her away would keep her?

Lucien’s chest ached, but he only held her tighter to him, his voice breaking as he whispered, "You are mine, Elain. And I am yours. Come back to me."

A gasp.

Her entire body jerked.

Lucien’s heart nearly stopped.

Elain’s fingers curled into his armor, her breath sharp and uneven. He felt her return to him through the bond, felt the awareness slam back into her fragile frame.

And then—her voice. Small, shaking.

"Lucien?"

The breath he released was shattered. His forehead dropped against hers, his chest rising and falling in frantic, desperate relief.

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he whispered, his hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers curling into her hair.

Her entire body trembled against him.

Lucien swallowed hard, pressing another kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—quick, frantic kisses that were more reassurance than anything else. "You are with me. You are safe," he assured her.

But there was no time.

The battle was not over.

Lucien lifted his head, scanning the battlefield. He was bleeding, panting, but he did not let her go. He would never let her go.

His free hand lifted his sword once more.

"Stay with me, Elain," he said, voice dark, fierce, trembling with everything he could not say.

Her fingers curled tighter into his armor. "Always."

And with his mate clutched against him, Lucien turned back to the battle.

And he fought.

[shadowqueenjude]

I think it would be utterly hilarious if Elain was a sleepy girl. Like, really really sleepy. So sleepy that she just goes missing. And early in their relationship Lucien freaks the fuck out because he can’t reach Elain through the mating bond and he immediately arrives at her house and searches the whole thing until he finds her in her bedroom asleep and he’s like “oh my god.”

Don’t disturb her, Lucien. She’s having visions🙂‍↕️

[lovemyromance]

The audacity of people saying we're trying to turn Elain into Gwyn because of a necklace and dagger and "light and dark" aesthetic???

Babes... these are ALL canon Elriel moments.

Like ... wdym we're trying to turn her into Gwyn 😭

Has Gwyn.... touched Truthteller? No.

Has Gwyn ... worn the necklace? No.

Has SJM described Gwyn & Azriel as "light and dark"...? No.

So why the fuck yall suddenly mad about canon Elriel moments being depicted in fanart???? Like imagine getting mad about ... what's literally printed in the books? Azriel giving Elain Truthteller is even in the official coloring book, if it wasn't clear enough. Like...Pls don't embarrass yourselves like that, yall look like clowns 🤡

[azrielmasterlist]

His Shadows & Their Starlight

Storyline:-(Ver.2.0) Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You've been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You're a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Word count:- 1.2k

Warnings:- Insecurity, Lonliness, Jealousy, Angst.

Series:- Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Chapter 7: A Glimpse of Truth

Isla's POV

The night air was cool against my skin as I stood on the balcony, arms crossed over my chest. Velaris stretched out before me, glittering like a sky turned upside down. The view, breathtaking as ever, offered little comfort tonight. My mind was a tangled mess of questions and doubts, most of them circling back to Azriel.

Azriel.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Every interaction left me feeling more confused, more drawn to him despite the walls he constantly erected between us. And his shadows—they were always there, lingering around me like a silent promise, even when he wasn't.

I turned, my gaze falling on the shadows curling near my feet. They danced slowly, as though sensing my turmoil. They weren't threatening or cold. No, they felt... familiar. Safe.

"Why do you always follow me?" I whispered, half to myself, half to the shadows.

They didn't respond, of course. They never did in words. But the way they shifted, brushing gently against my wrist, felt like an answer. They were there because they chose to be. Because they wanted to.

A soft rustle of wings broke the quiet, and I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Azriel had a way of entering spaces without making a sound, but I always knew when he was near.

I kept my eyes on the city below. "You don't have to keep doing this."

"I wasn't planning to." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it as if he was tired of having this conversation.

I turned to face him, unable to stop myself. He stood a few feet away, his shadows swirling restlessly around him as if they couldn't decide whether to stay with him or come to me. I'd never seen them behave this way before—like they were torn between us.

"You always say that," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You always act like it's something you can't help. But if that's true, then tell me—why are your shadows always with me? Why do they act differently around me than they do with anyone else?"

He flinched, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. For once, he didn't have a ready answer.

"I don't know," he said after a long pause. "I've never seen them behave this way either."

I stepped closer, my heart pounding. "They're a part of you, Azriel. They don't do anything without reason. So what reason do they have for being with me?"

His gaze met mine, dark and unreadable. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than before, as if admitting it was painful.

"They reflect my emotions," he said. "My shadows—they react to what I feel. They always have."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and charged with meaning. I swallowed hard, trying to process what he was telling me. His shadows reacted to his emotions. Which meant...

"They come to me because of how you feel about me," I said aloud, needing to hear the words, to make sure I wasn't imagining things.

Azriel's jaw tightened. "It's not that simple, Isla."

"Why not?" I demanded. "You care about me. You don't have to say it—I can feel it. Your shadows make it clear enough. So why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because it doesn't matter," he said, his voice rough with something I couldn't quite name. "I can't... I can't give you what you want, what you deserve. It's Elain—"

"Elain," I cut in, bitterness creeping into my tone. "You keep using her as an excuse. You say she's something special to you, but she's with Lucien. She made her choice, Azriel. Why can't you make yours?"

He looked away, his shadows flickering uneasily. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't understand how you can feel something for me, how your shadows can be drawn to me, and yet you still act like I'm nothing more than a replacement for someone you can't have."

That got his attention. His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a moment, I saw something raw in his eyes—something that made my chest ache.

"You're not a replacement," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Don't ever think that."

"Then what am I?" I whispered, hating how vulnerable I sounded. "Because right now, I feel like I'm stuck in this limbo where you want me close, but not too close. Where your shadows comfort me, but you won't."

He didn't answer.

The silence stretched between us, too loud, too painful. I shook my head, stepping back.

"I can't do this, Azriel. I can't keep waiting for you to figure out what you want. I deserve more than that."

His shadows flickered around me, hesitant, as if they didn't want me to leave. But I ignored them, turning away before he could see the tears gathering in my eyes.

I left the balcony without another word, my heart aching in a way I hadn't expected. I didn't know what hurt more—his reluctance to let me in, or the fact that his shadows still followed me, even when he didn't.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I spent the next few days avoiding him. It wasn't hard—Azriel was a master at keeping to himself, and I knew how to disappear when I wanted to. But no matter where I went, his shadows were always there, a constant reminder of what I was trying to forget.

It should have been comforting. Instead, it only made the ache worse.

"Isla, are you all right?" Mor asked one afternoon as we sat in the sitting room.

I forced a smile. "I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue. Still, I could feel her watching me, as if she knew exactly what—or rather, who—was bothering me.

Later that night, when I found myself once again standing on the balcony, I wondered if I'd ever truly be able to move on. If Azriel's shadows would ever stop haunting me.

"I told them to stay away."

The voice startled me, but I didn't turn around. I knew who it was.

"They don't seem to listen to you," I said quietly.

Azriel stepped beside me, his expression unreadable as he looked out over the city. "They don't. Not when it comes to you."

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to ask what that meant. I didn't want to have this conversation again, didn't want to open old wounds that hadn't even begun to heal.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment.

I glanced at him, surprised. "For what?"

"For hurting you. For making you feel like you weren't enough."

His words were quiet, but they cut through me like a blade. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I don't know what this is," he continued. "I don't know what it means, or why it's happening. But I know one thing—I care about you, Isla. More than I should."

I turned back to him, my heart pounding. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what it means. Afraid of what I'll lose if I let myself care too much."

I didn't know what to say to that. So instead, I took a step closer, reaching out to brush my fingers against the shadows still lingering between us.

"You don't have to be afraid," I said softly. "You don't have to do this alone."

For a moment, I thought he might pull away again. But then his shadows wrapped around my hand, warm and familiar, and I knew that maybe—just maybe—there was hope for us after all.

Taglist:- @donnadiddadog@onebadassunicorn-blog@wintersquirrel@rcarbo1

[nikethestatue]

Anyone else ready for the non-ravishing type Azriel to ravish Elain?

Because I am.

[elriel-month]

3 Months! 🌸🦇

It’s just 3 months until Elriel Month!! We hope everyone is as excited to celebrate our favorite couple as we are! 🌸🦇💙

Find prompts and descriptions here!

🎨: trxxvon_ | Comm: @leiaamidala

[greenleaf777]

This just in: according to some people 😒 Elain is no longer allowed to wear pink. Lmfaoooooo i am cackling

Honest to god who spends their time thinking about what color a character is wearing in a fanart?? I think these people need some hobbies? Maybe they can pick up drawing. Fills their time so they’re not thinking about something so goddamn stupid and they can draw elain how they want.

Heres Elain in pink for everyone to fawn over

Art by muffin_art_m

Comm by mee

🌸 feel free to Share with me your fav elain in pink art

[acourtofthought]

I actually love this metaphor, that Az can try to "save" Elain all he wants but he'll never be the one who can set her free. If this was a one off occurrence it might be easy to brush it aside but Sarah has been dropping these sorts of clues for multiple books. How Elain is a "rose bloom in a mud field, filled with galloping horses" while in the Illyrian camp. How she had the curtains parted as far as they could go, as if "any bit of darkness was abhorrent." How Sarah makes her Solstice gift a rose necklace that looks one dimensional until "held to the light when it's true depth becomes visible." How when wearing black, "no matter how much she claimed to be part of the court....it sucked the life from her". How she had gained color in her cheeks...until winter set in. How when surrounded by the members of the IC, the gates to her mind are "sleeping buds" and how, when asked what she needed, she specifically said Sunshine. Combined with the revelation that her mate is Heir to Day with connections to the Spring Court and I think Sarah has been working overtime to lay the clues for Elain's future in the same way she did with Feyre when she made constant mentions to the stars and the Night Sky before she ended up with Rhys,.

Something I don't see people talk about is how even though Azriel saves Elain from Hybern's Camp, he can't break her shackles-- only Helion, sunlight personified, can (and theoretically anyone with his powers). It's such a random thing to throw in. It doesn't add tension or anything because it's resolved about two sentences later. There is no reason to add this detail except, like, maybe foreshadowing how while Azriel might be able to save Elain from danger, he can't free her from her shackles. She'll never truly be free with him-- and we see this in SF when he actively works against her desire for something beyond her garden. Sure he might be able to save her and protect her but as long as that extends to the degree of being overprotective she will never be able to actually be free.

Meanwhile, the magical gloves Lucien gives her seems to serve the same purpose on the surface, but he is literally gifting her something that will allow her to embrace danger with precaution. He's basically saying "if you want to plant and tend to roses even though they might prick you, that's fine-- just be as safe as possible while you do it." Because Lucien knows better than anyone that the best way to protect someone you love is by giving them the means to do it themselves.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Elain: Do you want this handful of moss?

Nesta: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss?

Elain: You could have just said no.