#Elain charming Az with her hair

[ater-love]

Also (this is just me) I loved when Azriel described Elain’s hair as thick

I would fold so bad since I’m a sucker for hair compliments

And Elain having thick her is so on brand

Remember when Azriel took the potatoes from her and she left and came back with her hair braided perfectly?

I know my girl spends hours taking care of her hair so it can look healthy and flawless (charming Azriel is a bonus)

[solbaby7]

Jolene

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, quick little blurb, angst w/no comfort, probably typos

summary: [ shoutout to Jolene by Dolly Parton for the inspo but me personally? i would’ve shot jolene ]

—

Envy, the killer of joy.

A feeling that turned even the most pure souls into something cruel and corrupt.

Azriel’s usual routine slightly altering to accommodate the newly Made and barely adjusting Archeron sister. At first you’d found it noble; charming—a testament to his morals and obligation to his High Lord and Lady.

But as time passed and Elain slowly got better, Az got more distant. Less talkative and unable to bring himself out of the doting nature he’d slip into when around her. “Az, my hands work. I can put my own cloak on.”

He knew it was a joke. “I know, it’s just that—nevermind.” Still didn’t stop his mouth from pulling into a barely there grimace, hands pulling away as if you’d bit him and the teasing smile you wear falls.

It’s just that, Elain always lets him put hers on and waits patiently as he ties it securely at her neck.

The step you take back is involuntary but the message is sent perfectly clear when your expression turns to stone, painful realization settling in your bones and it takes everything in you not to buckle on the spot. You’d heard stories, about one-sided mating bonds and the pure turmoil that ensued during the time it took for the others to snap but this—the Mother had a sick sense of humor. Leading you believe that Azriel could ever truly love you without it; a fate more cruel than you could’ve wished on your worst enemies. “You know what, I forgot something upstairs. Why don’t you go on ahead without me and I’ll meet up with you shortly.”

He seems hesitant to comply, brows furrowed as he tries to figure out what had changed so suddenly. After a few beats of time he relents, pressing a farewell kiss to your mouth but he’s gone before you can wonder if he felt your lips tremble.

The safety of solitude allows you the comfort to let the tears fall, shoulders shaking as sobs pull from your chest. You weren’t sure how anyone could bare it; watching the one meant for them love another more than they ever did you.

Manicured fingers curl under the constrictive necklace, tugging it off to make room for the heaving breaths you take and a choked cry fills the space when Elain stands before you. “Gods, I’m so sorry,” You stumble trying to catch your footing and embarrassment burns beneath your skin at the true beauty of her. Perfectly put together in pale pinks and pure white lace. Hand sewn jewels are smattered about the bodice of the finest fabrics, accentuating the warmth of her hair and the glow on unblemished skin. “I thought everyone had already left.” Your arms curl around yourself as you make distance between you, pulling away from her outstretched hands as if they were coated in burning flames.

“Are you alright?”

You laugh thickly but there’s no humor in it. “No,” Your heart won’t stop hammering against your chest and knots form in the pit of your stomach. It’s pathetic, your inability to even appear the slightest bit worthy in the presence of your competitor. But, what was the point when she wasn’t even trying and was still so far ahead? “I’ve been thinking about a million different ways you and I would have this conversation and I assure you, this was not in one of those scenarios.” A poor attempt at a joke but even in the midst of such conflicting and all-consuming feelings, you had no interest in being mean—it wasn’t Elain’s fault. “Forgive me for what I’m about to ask you but are you and Azriel—“ The words clog in your throat, refusing to come forward and you have to turn away from her to wipe your tears. “Are you?”

Elain’s brow furrows and you wonder if that doe look in her eye was the first thing Azriel fell for. Such purity and grace. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, don’t make me say it.” Her heart breaks at the agony in your tone, the defeated sag of your shoulders in the beautiful dress that felt less than lovely when touching your skin. Everything felt wrong the longer you looked at her. So many differences—too many for Azriel to possibly love you both without having a preference. “I love him, Elain. With every breath I take, I love him and I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of it but you—“ Mascara trails down your cheeks and the disgust you feel towards yourself is palpable. “The way he is with you, even I don’t know what that’s like.” A deep shuddering breath to prepare you for the answers to your questions. “So, please, just tell me the truth.”

“He’s been helping me adjust,” Her hands fidget before her, obviously uncomfortable and searching for a safety net but the distance you’ve made hasn’t been broken. You haven’t yelled or accused and the longer Elain stared the worse she felt. “I hadn’t considered how that might affect you but nothing ever happened.”

You shift in place, ankles screaming in your heels and you’re distantly reminded that you promised Az you’d only be a few minutes and this was starting to feel like eons had passed standing in the foyer. “Nothing?” Your voice is lifeless, fresh tears welling in your waterline as your hands grip so tight on your arms your nails bite into soft skin. “He says your name in his sleep,” Elain’s breath catches at the confession and you wonder if Azriel had ever wished to pull that sound from her. Possible scenarios of chaste touches and almost kisses flash behind your lids and the turmoil absolutely eats you alive, gnawing at your flesh and grinding at your bones until there was nothing left. “Reasonably so, your beauty is beyond compare,” Your gaze sweeps over the softness of her hair, the delicate point of her ears just barely peeking through. Soft, feminine features with curves where it mattered and none where it didn’t.

Subconsciously, you take another step back, attempting to hide the endless insecurities in the shadows casted by dim lights but the self-hatred doesn’t cease for a second when she calls your name with such pity.

“Do you love him?” You ask meekly, terrified for her answer and you’re certain she can see you trembling. The tears just won’t stop, blurring your vision and preventing you from breathing normally but something inside of you demands to stick around for her answer. “Because, I can understand how you could easily take him but you just don’t know what he means to me.” Your palm rubs at your chest subconsciously, yearning for a comfort that that hadn’t yet been created—not yet fully formed. “Maybe, it would hurt less if you loved him too—really loved him. But if you don’t, Elain please. Please, I beg of you not to take him from me just because you can.”

Elain remains rooted in place, every flawless feature laced with guilt and shame. She reaches out for you, an attempt to comfort but once her smooth hands reach you skin the sobs wrack your body uncontrollably. She’s too good; too kind and sweet, too innocent and fragile to be touching such stained hands.

It made sense. Azriel loving her. He’d always taken a liking to delicate things.

But Elain had a mate. Had a bond that was mutually shared no matter how hard she fought it. She calls your name once more, full of urgency and remorse when trying to console you but there’s no use. The dam has broken with no tools in sight to repair the damage done.

“You could have your choice of men but I will never love again.” Too much time has passed. Someone will come looking; if not for you then certainly for the High Lady’s sister and the realization has you yanking your hands back. There’s no saving your makeup and Elain can’t fight the tears that fall down her own cheeks as she watches you stumble in the heels, bend over to rip them off and cradle them close as you retreat to the staircase. “He’s the only one for me.”

“Please, I am so sorry.”

The sincerity is appreciated but the words don’t register how they should. “I had to have this talk with you,” It’s barely above a whisper, without the fae hearing Elain was sure she would’ve missed it. “—my happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, Elain.”

[nikethestatue]

Saying "the natural ease in their interactions" about Gwyn and Azriel is unhinged. We are not reading the same books. They barely exchange words in acosf and in the bc Az is just wants to get out of there. It's awkward as fuck. Their personalities just don't match well whatsoever. He even lies to her and does what he can to end the conversation. What books are they reading? Or is it all fanfics?

I know it's hilarious that in the same bonus chapter that they praise so much, we went from this:

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.  

and this

The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

and this

"I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave.  

"Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. 

to this

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running, Azriel landed in the ring.

to this

where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight. (notice the contrast of how he views Elain, as warm and glowing and how Gwyn is associated with an icy sword)

to this

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn't feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she'd ask next.

to this

A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. (compare Elain leaning into his touch and not wanting to part with him, and Gwyn again only being concerned with the sword, all irreverence gone, as if she was wearing a mask)

And that's what they think 'ended Elriel'? And we are the crazy ones?

[loveyazy]

Got inspired by a friend's Elriel x Taylor Swift post!

1. Begin Again

I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does Is break and burn, and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again

Elriel passages

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

-ACOSF, chapter 17

“I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."   Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She'd waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.   Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. “Here." 

— Azriel ACOSF BC

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.   “Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.  Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.  He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. Offer and permission. 

— Azriel ACOSF BC

Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?"   Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.  

— Azriel ACOSF BC

2. You Are In Love

But you saw enough Small talk, he drives Coffee at midnight The light reflects The chain on your neck He says, "Look up" And your shoulders brush No proof, one touch But you felt enough

Elriel passages

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.

— ACOFAS

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" 

— Azriel ACOSF BC

 Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.  Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.   It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

— Azriel ACOSF BC

3. Lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Elriel passages

So Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, still marry her—and that love would trump even a mating bond.

— ACOWAR

No, she tended to her gardens here, silently mourning her lost human life. Mourning Graysen.

— ACOFAS

Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

— ACOFAS

and Azriel … those longing glances toward [Mor] had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up.

— ACOSF

4. Daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

Elriel Passage

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

— Azriel BC

5. invisible string

Time, wondrous time Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies And it's cool, baby, with me And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

Elriel passages

She was wearing a pale pink gown

— ACOWAR

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.”

— ACOWAR

Azriel’s head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full of rage and pain as he snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch her.” Mor looked at Azriel—and there was real fear there.

— ACOMAF

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

— ACOWAR

Azriel was nothing short of beautiful. Even with those scarred hands and the shadows that flowed from him like smoke, she’d always found him to be the prettiest of the three males who called themselves brothers.

— ACOSF

When human, Elain had easily been the prettiest of the three of them, and when she’d been turned High Fae, that beauty had been amplified.

— ACOSF

He’d flown in so silently, I hadn’t even heard the beat of his wings.

— ACOMAF

Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps. Hadn’t heard any sound for moments.

— ACOFAS

Elain politely refused, taking up a spot in one of the wooden chairs set in the bay of windows. Also typical.

— ACOFAS

They’d sat in them, before this fire, so many times that it was an unspoken rule that Azriel’s was the one on the left, closer to the window

— ACOSF

6. willow

The more that you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow Begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man

Elriel passages

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Offer and permission.  

— ACOSF BC

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair  and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.” She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

— ACOSF BC

7. ivy

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it's been promised to another Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you

Elriel passages

He offered her a smile back. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present."   He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.   Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

8. cowboy like me

You're a cowboy like me Perched in the dark Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear Like it could be love I could be the way forward

Elriel passages

“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

— ACOWAR

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father's dungeon. "I don't know what you're talking about.”

— ACOSF BC

9. Guilty as Sin

I'm seeing visions, am I bad? Or mad? Or wise? What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind?

Without ever touching his skin How can I be guilty as sin?

I keep these longings locked In lowercase inside a vault Someone told me There's no such thing as bad thoughts Only your actions talk These fatal fantasies Giving way to labored breath Taking all of me We've already done it in my head If it's make believe Why does it feel like a vow We'll both uphold somehow?

Elriel passages

Mad. Elain might very well have gone mad—

— ACOWAR

"I have seen the victims of trauma before. Her symptoms match well with many of those invisible wounds. But … she was also Made by something I do not understand. Is there something wrong with her?” Madja chewed over the words. “I do not like that word—wrong. Different, perhaps. Changed.”

— ACOWAR

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

— ACOWAR

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.  Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make. 

— ACOSF BC

Her arousal drifted up to him.

— ACOSF BC

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open…

— ACOSF BC

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

— ACOSF BC

10. The alchemy

I haven't come around in so long But I'm coming back so strong So when I touch down Call the amateurs and Cut 'em from the team Ditch the clowns, get the crown Baby I'm the one to beat Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

Elriel passages

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.  But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see…He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.  

— ACOSF BC

She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open. “Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.  Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

— ACOSF BC (I know I used this again but it's perfect!)

I'm sure there are more but right now these popped into my head! And it's long enough already. Part 2 later?

[jasmineandcedar]

"His head went quiet." | Peace and quiet in the mind of a shadowsinger

[Second Solstice] “It's beautiful," she [Elain] whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck [Azriel's BC).

When I read that Azriel’s head went quiet in the bonus chapter, I often think of it in a wider and perhaps more symbolic sense. As in, Elain gives him peace and quiet. He relaxes with her in the garden, sunning his wings. His shadows vanish in her presence (here’s a post I wrote dissecting my perception of the meaning of this). His soft and gentle side comes out around her (meaning he has no need to be stone-faced and guarded, as he usually is). However, I also believe the peace and quiet she gave him in that precise moment is also very specific and contextual.

What had been plaguing his mind leading up to their moment during Solstice night?

[Second Solstice] Sleep, they [his shadows] seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep. I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours (Azriel’s BC).

“Razor-sharp thoughts” and “wants and needs”. These words give meaning to Azriel's actions in ACOSF. All throughout ACOSF, we see Azriel distressed and clearly not OK, because of his feelings for Elain. Even to the point that Cassian (who, let’s be honest, is not the most observant) notices.

[Azriel telling Cassian Nesta and Cassian are wanted at the river house] “You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” “It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.” “It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up. (ACOSF)

[Cassian asking Azriel if he wants kids] Cassian looked over at Az. “You think you’ll ever be ready for one?” Ever be ready to confess to Mor what’s in your heart? “I don’t know,” Azriel said. “Do you want a child?” “It doesn’t matter what I want.” Distant words—ones that prevented Cassian from prying further. He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. 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)

[Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta training] Nesta’s stare seared him from across the ring. Cassian might have flexed his stomach muscles as he approached the chalk-lined circle. Az shook his head and muttered, “Pathetic, Cass.” Cassian winked, nodding to his brother’s equally muscled stomach. “Where have you been exercising these days?” “Here,” Azriel said. “At night.” After he returned from spying on their enemies. “Can’t sleep?” Cassian took up a fighting stance. A shadow curled around Azriel’s neck, the only one brave enough to face the sunlight. “Something like that,” he said, and settled into his own stance across from Cassian. Cassian let it drop, knowing Az would have told him already if he’d wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them (ACOSF).

Clearly, Azriel’s head has been nothing but quiet all throughout ACOSF. But during Solstice night, with Elain, it went quiet. What happened before his head went quiet? It's reasonable to assume that what preceded his head going quiet is what caused it. So, what was that?

[Second Solstice] “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck (Azriel's BC).

“Put it on me?” Elain asked, and Azriel’s head went quiet. Why? What is it to put a necklace on someone? It is to act.

Up until the necklace, Azriel knew Elain was aware of his feelings for her, and why he hesitates to act on them.

[Second Solstice] He [Azriel] left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. (Azriel’s BC)

So, Azriel knows they have feelings for each other that they both are aware of. They have shared glances and brushing of fingers.

[Second Solstice] It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching (Azriel’s BC).

What is missing, for those feelings to be more than mutual feelings, is action. What Azriel doesn't know (I think) is if Elain would be ready to act on those feelings, beyond the occasional brush of their fingers and a lingering glance here and there. I am doubtful he had expected Elain to be willing to act on it that Solstice night, and I am convinced he had never felt entitled to it. Why do I think this? Because he never planned for a future with her in it beside him.

[When Rhys confronts Azriel during Solstice night] "So you'll what?" Rhys's voice was pure ice. "Seduce her away from him?” Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to (Azriel's BC).

Why had he not allowed himself to plan beyond his fantasies? Because he didn’t feel entitled to a future with her. Why do I say that? Think about what planning is. It is imagining a future you want and how to get there. If he didn’t expect Elain to be ready to act on their mutual feelings, it makes sense he had no hope of a future with her, because he is not entitled to a future with her that she doesn’t consent to.

Think of what kind of person Azriel is. And then think of the circumstances required for him to imagine a future he wants with Elain, and to imagine how to get there (= planning). Azriel is a guy who is seemingly intent on consent and not pushing himself on, especially, women. Look at how he acts with the priestesses in ACOSF. And with Elain, he extends a hand, an arm and so on (an offer). But not only that. He extends a hand, an arm, after having asked her (offer and permission).

[Azriel has just flown Elain to the town house] Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” (ACOWAR)

[Feyre offering to take Elain to the garden] I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. (ACOWAR)

So, when Elain said, “put it on me?” I think it meant to Azriel that Elain showed him she was willing to act on their mutual feeling. It is an explicit expression of consent for him to act (offer and permission). Then, he “nearly groans with relief and need” when she allows him to put the necklace on her, urges him to touch her, and gives him her consent to kiss her (offer and permission). What is he relieved about? That she is willing to act. She confirms not only that she feels the same, but that she is even braver than him and ready to act. Even with her mate upstairs.

If Elain is willing to act, there is a possibility of a future. It opens the door towards a future with her that he could imagine, and if he can imagine a future with her, he can imagine how they’d get there. That is what it means to plan. Something he couldn't have allowed himself to do before "put it on me?" and all that followed in that interaction (with Elain leading it).

Look at what happens after he learns Elain is willing to act. He is questioning the Cauldron itself openly for the first time, with Rhys. I see it as the first seeds towards a bigger plan.

[Rhys confronts Azriel during Solstice night] Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud (Azriel’s BC).

Consider Azriel’s nature. He is not impulsive. He works in the background. Waiting for the right moment to act is not only a cornerstone of his job, but of his personality, as evident in his assertion that spying suits him precisely because of that. He is not careful and prudent because he is Spymaster, he is Spymaster because he is careful and prudent.

[Training with Nesta and Cassian] “Right,” Cassian panted through gritted teeth as he blocked Az’s kick and bounced a step back, circling again. “Whoever lands the next blow wins.” “That’s ridiculous,” Az panted back. “We go until one of us eats dirt.” Az had a vicious competitive streak. It wasn’t boastful and arrogant, the way Cassian knew he himself was prone to be, or possessive and terrifying like Amren’s. No, it was quiet and cruel and utterly lethal. Cassian had lost track of how many games they’d played over the centuries, with one of them certain of a win, only for Az to reveal some master strategy. Or how many games had been reduced to only Rhys and Az left standing, battling it out over cards or chess until the middle of the night, when Cassian and Mor had given up and started drinking (ACOSF).

[Cassian and Azriel on the lookout] “Four fucking days,” Cassian hissed from where he and Azriel monitored the castle. “We’ve been sitting on our asses for four fucking days.” Azriel sharpened Truth-Teller. The black blade absorbed the dim sunlight trickling through the forest canopy above. “It seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. People don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you.” Cassian rolled his eyes. “I stopped spying because it bored me to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time." “It suits me.” Azriel didn’t halt his sharpening, though shadows gathered around his feet (ACOSF).

When Azriel says “this was a mistake” about the almost-kiss, and “tonight had proved he 'd been right to do so” (Azriel's BC) about staying away from Elain, it is obviously not an expression of rejection. He didn't suddenly change his mind about Elain. He is questioning his impulsivity and recklessness. Because, as much as I, for entirely self-interested reasons, wish Rhys didn’t interrupt them, making out downstairs during Solstice (and whatever that might have led to) was quite reckless and impulsive. Clearly, none of them had planned to do that.

Azriel achieves his goals not through impulsivity and brute force, but through careful consideration and strategizing. I think that, since Elain said “put it on me?”, he has perhaps been cooking up some "master strategy" to make them happen (I, too, don't think it was a coincidence he was present to find out the Cauldron had, in fact, been tampered with, in HOFAS). He got her explicit consent, and a minute later he is questioning his religion in front of his High Lord. I think there might be some miscommunication initially in Elain’s book, given how Elain probably doesn’t know Rhys is the reason Azriel decided not to follow through with the kiss. And I think Azriel definitely will struggle with his feelings of not being worthy.

But then, I think we’ll be privy to some master strategizing on their part, challenging not only Rhys but fate itself.

[throughstarlitfields]

Pg. 1

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

Pg. 2

"I….." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier." Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She'd waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed. Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. "Here." Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year—a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said “You might find these useful at the House these days”, and then opened the lid.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, “You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you…”

He chuckled, unable to contain the impulse. “No wonder you didn’t want me to open it in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.”

Pg. 3

He offered her a smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present.” He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see… He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary-its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Pg. 4

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel's restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there. “I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. "Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Her arousal lifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars. Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence. But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. "Yes," Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. Azrie's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

[acourtofthought]

The book Sarah had displayed "The Once and Future Sex" just triggered something for me after looking over the synopsis:

Enshrined medieval thinkers, almost always male, subscribed to a blend of classical Greek and Roman philosophy and Christian theology for their concepts of the sexes. For the height of female attractiveness, they chose the mythical Helen of Troy, whose imagined pear shape, small breasts, and golden hair served as beauty’s epitome. Casting Eve’s shadow over medieval women, they derided them as oversexed sinners, inherently lustful, insatiable, and weak. And, unless a nun, a woman was to be the embodiment of perfect motherhood.

I always thought it was a bit strange how Sarah continually reminded us of Elain's small breasts but seeing the above makes me wonder if it's because she took inspiration from the likeness of Helen of Troy as a pear shaped, small breasted figure which was the ideal of attractiveness during that time period.

It makes a bit of sense as Helen of Troy's face was one that launched a thousand ships with Elain's being a face that could bring kings to their knees.

The Trojan War began because Paris took Helen from her husband, Menelaus and in SF we have Rhys warning Az that his actions, his lack of concern for her mating bond with Lucien, could lead to a battle to the death and ruin the peace of their lands.

On the one hand, the Paris of Homer's Iliad is depicted as a handsome and charming young man motivated by his love for Helen and his belief that she is destined to be his.

It's debatable whether Paris truly loved Helen or whether he believed he did because her love was promised to him:

Still, Paris could not decide, as all three were ideally beautiful, so the goddesses attempted to bribe him to choose among them. Hera offered ownership of all of Europe and Asia. Athena offered skill in battle, wisdom and the abilities of the greatest warriors. Aphrodite offered the love of the most beautiful woman on Earth: Helen of Sparta. Paris chose Helen and thereby Aphrodite.

"His belief that she is destined to be his." sounds a lot like Az feeling he should have been given Elain because his brothers are with her sisters.

"Some stories say that Aphrodite put a spell on Helen to make her fall in love with Paris, while others say she loved him without the goddess’ help."

Helen regrets her decision to be with Paris, and her resentment of him intensifies as the war progresses. She is disgusted by Paris's cowardly behavior when he fights Menelaus.

If Sarah went with the first story, she could have played into that with Elain's interest in Az where she felt influenced by what she thought her sisters wanted of her (which Rhys all but acknowledges in the Feyre bonus, about her being worried that she'd disappoint them if she acted out of character for what they expected of her). It's clear that Feyre initially had animosity towards Lucien in ACOWAR and it was very evident that Nesta only started coming around to him later in her book so it's not a stretch to believe Elain thought that since her sisters were interested in Rhys and Cassian, she as the third sister should also try to be happy with the third brother so as not to make waves.

Also, Elain is bothered by cruelty and though the circumstances would be different (since I don't imagine Sarah would write Lucien and Az battling it out to the death), I do think that had Elain actually hooked up with Az she would have later regretted it. I think she would have been bothered by Azriel's threats of Lucien, his indifference to killing him and causing issues between courts.

In Homers account, Helen is eventually reunited with her husband Menelaus.

I also think it's interesting how in what is clearly a negative way of thinking, the above book mentions men who considered woman to be the embodiment of "perfect motherhood" and Sarah chose to write Az thinking of how innocent and pure Elain is in his bonus chapter, how he will taint her.

[secretlovelygarden]

Elriel - Solstice Gifts

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”

She hadn’t bought her mate a present. But she’d gotten Azriel one last year—a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?” “No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips.

He offered her a smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present.” […] The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, “You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you …”

[rae2velaris]

"Words are the vibration of nature. Therefore, beautiful words create beautiful nature. Ugly words create ugly nature. This is the root of the universe.”

– Dr. Masaru Emoto

I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.”

Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them. -ACOWAR Chapter 24

When Elain said "Beautiful" in regards to Azriel's scarred hands/siphons, this is what it would've looked like in water crystal form:

Why do I bring this up?

Dr. Masaru Emoto was a researcher who studied the human consciousness effect on water at a molecular level. He exposed water to specific words and thoughts, then froze the water. With a microscope, Dr. Masaru Emoro witnessed the impact of humans on water crystals.

Your words have an effect on the physical world.

Your body is made up of roughly 60% of water so imagine the influence your words and thoughts have even on yourself.

Your mind is powerful...

So use your words and thoughts with care.

When Azriel is around Elain (this is just an example...his family has a positive influence on him as well), she invokes beautiful crystals for him. She is a positive influence on his mental health/whole being.

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck. -Bonus Chapter in Az's POV

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports— ACOWAR Chapter 24

Only when the outside world gets in the way, does his mind and body begin to absorb the ugly nature of the world.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out" Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. -Bonus Chapter in Az's POV

So this is just a reminder to be mindful of what you bring into the world for yourself and others. We aren't perfect (I'm far from it), but atleast trying is something.

Take a step and bring beauty in the world like Elain does for Azriel.

[theladyofbloodshed]

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

Chapter 5 - Just a short update

On the surface, Azriel was the picture of serenity – as he always was. They gathered in the foyer of the town house, readying themselves to winnow to the mortal lands and meet with the queens of the Continent. Rhys had banished his wings; Cass had opted for leathers; Mor and Feyre wore matching gowns – one white, one red.

It was an effort to focus. It had been since the moment he fled the mortal lands and dragged his shadows with him. They’d have stayed, caressing Nesta Archeron’s face for eternity, if he hadn’t clawed them back to him. His heart had been thumping a rhythm that he couldn’t keep up with ever since. The knowledge of who she was – what she was – to him lurked in the corner of his vision and Azriel refused to look at it. She couldn’t be that.

Azriel glanced to Mor as she ran a hand through her hair. She had once been the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Now, she was duller. His attention was tearing away back to the mortal lands. Every day was a struggle to keep himself on task where he once was immovable in his purpose.

‘Ready?’ Mor flashed a dazzling smile.

She smiled for anyone. Gave them to anybody. It was nothing special though Azriel had always hoped one day they’d be reserved only for him.

The ache in his chest yawned wider. Nesta Archeron. The thought flickered into his mind. He thought of trying to prise a smile from her – a real one that lit up her face – and how rare and fleeting it would likely be. He doubted she had much to smile about. And yet, the desire to see her smile, had his chest flaring with heat.

‘Az?’

The eyes of his family were on him.

Shadows swarmed over his body to shield him. He sent them away quickly – so many tended to make Mor uncomfortable.

‘Pardon?’

Cassian gave a boom of laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Try and stay conscious for the meeting.’

‘You can collapse after it,’ said Rhys, with a knowing raise of his brows.

Azriel wished he could rest. The one night that he had forced himself to his bed to try and rest had been spent replaying the moment that Nesta Archeron’s fingers had grazed against the membrane of his wing. The memory of the sensation had him gripping the bedsheets to stop himself from tearing back to the mortal manor and begging her to do it again. Nobody had ever touched his wings before. It wasn’t her fault because she hadn’t understood the implications but his knees had nearly buckled. He’d have given her the world if she asked for it.

‘I’m fine,’ he replied smoothly.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a smirk then she extended a hand for him to take. Azriel let his shadows sweep around him.

In one fluid movement, the five of them had winnowed to the doors of the mortal manor, shrouded by Rhysand’s shield. They trusted that Elain Archeron had worked her charm to evacuate the staff from the manor.

It was Elain who ushered them in, the colour in her cheeks the only indicator of nerves.

‘Mrs. Lawrence has prepared a number of refreshments although she did not understand why.’

It was doubtful the queens would touch food that they could not vouch for, but the effort was appreciated.

She led them through to one of the parlours. It was not the one that Nesta had received him in a few days ago, but she was present in this one. In her vigil at the window, Nesta’s back was to them. Not a single hair was out of place in her tightly braided coronet. Her pale blue gown billowed at her hips, but fit snuggly to her thin body. There ought to be a crown on her head, he thought.

As they entered the room and took their seats, she did not turn to them. The ache in his chest gave a satisfied purr as if catching sight of Nesta Archeron had eased something within.

His eyes widened at the sight of one of his shadows skating across the rug. Even when he tried to pull it back, it insisted upon brushing against her ankle like a cat.

She turned.

Ignorant of anybody else present, her eyes locked onto his.

The whole world slowed down. The moment stretched on for an eternity, just the two of them and this gaping expanse of unknown sprawling out between them.

Somewhere, within the home, a clock chimed. It struck eleven.

As it finished its last strike, the queens winnowed directly into the room.

***

With a brief dip of her chin, Nesta summoned Elain to her beside the bay window, nestled amongst the guards who accompanied the queens. She hadn’t decided where safety was – with the guards of mortal queens or the guards of faerie high lords.

Rhysand’s smooth voice seeped through the stalemate. ‘We are grateful you accepted our invitation. Where is the sixth?’

Nesta swept her eyes across the queens and found that one was indeed missing.

Their brief introductions were made while the blonde faerie, Morrigan, encouraged the queens to sit as if the home was her own. Nesta bit down on her irritation. They had already got their feet firmly beneath the table.

‘I assume those are our hosts.’

The golden-haired queen cut a look to them both. Beside her, Elain bobbed a curtsey that was not deserved but Nesta held her stare unflinching. This was her home. She bowed to no queens from the east.

Three of the queens seemed content to observe the unfurling to-and-fro between the Night Court and the other two queens. The golden one dominated as much as the elder queen. Feyre and Rhysand batted back their comments about the war as if it was a trivial matter of little importance. Nesta watched it all, her back rigid from annoyance and worry. They spoke of her people as if they were disposable. They had no queens or kings to save them, no knights to lead to the brigade and charge down the fae. They were utterly helpless – and the queens did not care. The Continent was their domain so their empathy did not stretch across the ocean.

‘To lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it.’

Tiny territory? Hundreds, if not thousands of lives would be destroyed if Hybern invaded her home. Nesta balled her fingers into a fist.

Feyre rasped, ‘There are good people here.’

‘Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them,’ parried the golden one with a sickly smile that made Nesta see red.

‘We have servants here,’ she hissed. ‘With families. There are children in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?’

The eldest one’s face softened, but it only hardened Nesta. ‘It is no easy choice, girl-’

Girl? She was a woman grown, standing as the head of her household. She would not stand here and put up with patronisation in her own damn home by queens who knew nothing of struggle. They would be safely sequestered in their gilded halls during a war, not bleeding with the commonfolk.

‘It is the choice of cowards.’

The argument churned on around her, but Nesta heard little of it. Blood pounded in her ears. Fury lashed in her chest.

Then, a cold, slithering shadow wrapped itself around her clenched fist. It was cool enough to soothe the white-hot anger stirring inside of her. The shadow forced itself into the cracks between her fingers until it covered every inch of skin of her hand, cooling and calming it until Nesta relaxed it. The shadow stayed with her, stayed stroking against her wrist like a tether to keep her there.

She risked a glanced to Azriel, but he was listening intently to the conversation about Amarantha and a book. Shadows stayed writhing around him, beating like a pulse. He hadn’t noticed the wayward one that had come to her. He hadn't sent it.

Since their last meeting, her heart had been fluttering at the very thought of him. Now, he was devoted to his task. Nesta had merely been a cog in his busy network of spies and intel who had served her purpose in providing the layout of her home.

The blonde one continued, ‘You laugh at the idea of peace? That we can have it between our peoples?’

At the crack in her voice, Azriel shuffled near her, face betraying nothing. Were they involved? At the notion of Morrigan’s anguish, he had reacted. For a reason she could not name, it made Nesta wither inside.

All of a sudden, they were standing. Conversation had ground to a halt. Tension had mounted in the living room so Nesta clutched onto Elain’s wrist, ready to sprint from the room and drag her to safety if needed.

‘That book has been ours to protect for five hundred years. We will not hand it over without due consideration.’

The guards moved from their perches against the wall to flank the queens as they readied themselves to depart. The golden queen threw a vindictive smirk towards Feyre that had Nesta ready to move across the room and slap her. ‘Good luck.’

Then they were gone, guards and queens. The sitting room felt too big, too quiet, too exposed.

Elain tugged her hand out from Nesta’s grasp and said, ‘I hope they all burn in hell.’

‘Hell would spit them back out,’ murmured Nesta.

The fae began preparing themselves to leave, muttering amongst themselves about their next steps, where Azriel should direct his spies next, who Morrigan should try to contact. With a hesitant step forward, Nesta cleared her throat. ‘And what about us?’

‘Thank you for hosting them,’ said Feyre, offering a smile.

‘No. I mean what will happen to us here. They’ll leave us to rot.’

‘We will get the book,’ reassured Rhysand as he settled a hand on Feyre’s shoulder before she could speak.

‘They appeared in my living room. What is to step anybody else from coming here and hurting us? You would leave us exposed.’

It wasn’t the voice she expected – or perhaps hoped for – that spoke up.

‘Nobody will hurt you.’

The large one who warred with her often had stood. His hazel eyes locked onto hers, absolute certainty in his words ringing out. He continued, ‘Rhys, you can ward the manor, can’t you?’

It took time to do it, and Nesta had the sense that all of them were anxious to be back above the Wall rather than linger a minute longer. She stayed close to Elain. And likely would until her heart controlled its fear. They had taken to sharing a bed again out of fear rather than necessity. Rhysand explained the magic that had enveloped their home; he said that none would see it, none would know it, but they would be safe. To ensure their safety further, he would keep eyes on the property.

A stiff and formal farewell followed. Elain did her best to smooth over the tension that radiated from Nesta, but it was no use. They had been dragged into something far more complex than originally thought. Their home would become a warzone soon enough and no mortal queens would come to save them. Nesta felt as if she was hurtling towards an edge and she wasn’t ready to freefall.

Long after they had gone, when evening settled in and fog curled across the grounds, a familiar shadow remained wound around Nesta's wrist.

[itselriel]

Azriel’s Bonus Chapter

(takes place during Solstice in ACOSF)

“”Az snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him.

Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep.

I wish I could, He answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days.

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still. Long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

Azriel surveyed the empty family room, presents and ribbons littering the furniture. Cassian and Nesta hadn’t reappeared downstairs, though that came as no surprise. He was elated for his brother and yet…

Azriel couldn’t stop it. The envy in his chest. Of Cassian and Rhys.

He knew he’d be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he remained down here by the dying light of the fire.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room, entering the foyer.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

“I…” He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She’d waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she’d leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. “Here.”

Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn’t bought her mate a present. But she’d gotten Azriel one last year - a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House Of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, “You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you…”

He chuckled, unable to surpress the impulse. “No wonder you didn’t want me to open it in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.”

He offered her a smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present.”

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see…He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary — it’s chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Azriel’s fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Wrong—it was so wrong.

He didn’t care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tounge —

Azriel’s cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn’t peer down. Prayed she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she’d make.

Elain bit her lower lip and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.

“I should go.” Elain said, but made no move to leave.

“Yes.” He said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars.

Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to skin, tainting her with his presence.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

“Yes.” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the mother might witness them.

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head towards hers.

Azriel.

Rhy’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet mouth.

Azriel.

Unrelenting command filled his name, and Azriel looked up.

Rhysand stood atop the staircase. Glowering down at them.

My office. Now.

Rhys vanished, and Azriel was left standing before Elain, who still awaited his kiss. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.”

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize. It’s I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he’d brought to her expression. “Goodnight.”

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything, appearing at the doors to Rhy’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’ power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.”

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. “What if the cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az.”

Azriel ignored the question. “The cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

Rhysand’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?”

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.”

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’ voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?”

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.”

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. He’d been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.”

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true.””

[rose-of-the-grave]

Paper Bird

Pairing: Gwyn x Azriel

Hogwarts AU

I'm the author (please don't repost) <3

Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: Angst, fluff, oblivious pining

Word Count: 1,386

Description: What will happen when Az accidentally reads a note that Gwyn wrote about him that was meant for Emerie?

History of Magic was usually Gwyn's favorite class but today all she could focus on was Az. He was seated next to Cassian only a few rows away. They were quietly arguing, or rather, Cassian was talking and Azriel was doing his best to pay attention to class. On the far side of the duo was Gwyn's best friend Emerie.

Glancing up at the teacher who was droning on and on she decided to send Emerie a note. She, Emerie, and their other friend Nesta had developed a system where if they wanted to talk they would charm a piece of paper into a bird that would fly their message over.

Looking over at her crush, she could spot the way his uniform clung to his muscles. The way his sleeves clung to his biceps should have been illegal. When a strand of hair fell in his eyes she wished that she could be the one to tuck it back behind his ear.

She had had a crush on the mysterious, dark-haired boy for years. Back when she was a second year and he was in his third year he had stood up for her against the people who bullied her and her twin sister for being muggleborns. Ever since then she had had a major crush. Gwyn knew that there was no hope for him to see her in the same way. He had been hung up on a girl who was a year ahead of him from the moment he met her as a first year.

A couple months ago Az had finally moved on from Morrigan but he was now dating Elain, Nesta's sister. Gwyn however had watched from afar, hoping that he would notice that Elain was just using him to get over her ex, Gray. It had been three months and he still hadn't clued in. Every time she watched Elain become all lovey-dovey when Gray was in sight only to stop the instant he was gone, Gwyn's heart ached for him.

Unable to resist, she quickly scrawled out a note for her friend and watched as it soared through the air. It had become custom for Gwyn to send Emerie a note whenever she was feeling particularly heart broken. She and Nesta had wanted to ensure that they could be there to support her when it got difficult to deal with how she felt.

The paper bird fluttered its wings and glided in Emerie's direction only to hit Az in the back of the head when he stood up abruptly. The bird fell gracefully right into his bag that he grabbed before storming out of class moments before class was officially dismissed.

Gathering her things Gwyn rushed over to Emerie.

"Emerie!" She called. Her voice filled with desperation and agony. She had been successfully hiding her feelings for ages from Az. They had become good friends lately and she couldn't bear for that to change.

Emerie's voice asking, "What?", pulled her out of her thoughts.

"I-I-I was... I sent a note to you like I promised and..." she trailed off.

"What note? I didn't get a note." Noticing her best friend's panic Emerie tried her best to calm her. "Just take a deep breath. In and out, in and out. There. Now, what happened? Take your time."

"I sent you a note like I promised but it hit Az in the back of the head and fell into his bag. He's probably already seen it by now. He's never going to talk to me again!"

"You don't know that Gwyn. For all you know it could have flown out of his bag and be on its way to me. Or maybe he won't notice it." Emerie comforted.

"No. He'll see it. He may not always be very perceptive when it comes to girls but he pays attention to details. It takes a lot of skill to hide something from him. It's nearly impossible to lie to his face."

"Come on," Emerie pushed, "We need to hurry if we want to get a seat in the great hall for lunch."

"Okay." Gwyn assented, worry still weighing her down.

The two girls walked out of the near empty classroom and into the hallway where they were met by the third of their trio, Nesta. Emerie filled Nesta in on what had just happened in class while they all walked to the great hall .

They had nearly reached the entrance to the hall when Azriel came up to them.

"Hey." He nodded at both Emerie and Nesta before turning to pin Gwyn with his gaze. "Can we talk? Privately." He said that last part to Gwyn's friends before they could declare that were coming too.

"Sure" Gwyn said, motioning for her friends to go to lunch without her.

They left, albeit reluctantly. Both of them kept turning back to look at Gwyn and Az.

Gwyn laughed nervously before turning to look at Az. "So what do you want to talk about?" She asked, her voice wavering a bit. He probably wanted to let her down privately to save her the public embarrassment.

Az led the red-haired Gryffindor over to a bench. Sitting down, he motioned for her to join him. He started fidgeting with his hands a bit drawing her attention to his tight grip on a piece of paper. Her piece of paper.

"Did you mean it?" He inquired, his voice so quiet that she had to strain to hear him.

"Mean what?" She attempted to seem oblivious but her cheeks were tinged pink.

"This." He said, shoving the piece of paper at her. Az seemed to gain confidence as he finally met her gaze. "Do you like me?"

"Of course I like you! We're friends" She tried to deflect.

"No. I mean do you like me as more than a friend?"

"Umm." She looked down at her hands. "Yes." She whispered.

At his lack of response she glanced up to where he was sitting, his mouth opening and closing without a noise, like a fish. Gwyn looked back and forth, inching back. She made to leave when he reached out a hand, grabbing her wrist. He pulled her back so that she was sitting next to him again, closer than before.

Bewildered, Gwyn sat there. She watched as his hand let go and reached up towards her cheek. Meeting his eyes, he was staring back and she started to lose herself in them as they got closer and closer until she felt his lips brush her own. He leaned back, biting his lower lip. His eyes were filled with hesitance.

"Why did you do that?" Gwyn asked.

"Why do you think? I like you too, as more than friends. I have for a while now."

"But you're dating Elain."

"No, I'm not. We broke up after her ex decided that he wanted to try again." He quirked an eyebrow up. "I also didn't really like her like that. Sure, she was pretty but we didn't really have that much in common."

Elated, Gwyn smiled. Her whole face lit up. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes." He said. They both leaned in slowly, his lips ghosting over hers before kissing her in earnest. Reaching a hand up to the back of his neck she grabbed a fistful of his air, pulling him closer. Her tongue darted out to lick along the seam of his lips, wordlessly asking for permission. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss.

Someone whistled.

Az and Gwyn pulled apart to look at a smirking Cassian who was accompanied by both Nesta and Emerie. Nesta slipped Emerie a Galleon. Gwyn stood up and was pulled into a hug by her two friends. When Nesta whispered, "Why did you have to get together so soon? You really couldn't have waited two weeks? You cost me a Galleon." Gwyn pulled away, saying in mock offense, "You guys bet on us?"

Her two friends smiled and shrugged. "We figured you would eventually realize that you were both pining for each other, oblivious to the other's feelings." Emerie said.

Laughing, Gwyn looked back at her new boyfriend who was being hugged by Cassian. It had taken them a while but they finally got here. She smiled and, noticing her grinning, Az smiled back.

[seccndchances]

She knew Rhys had already began to work his charms on her sister. She was grateful she seemed to have a positive view of him, she didn't think her heart could take if she didn't. "I'm far from charming, more awkward if you think about it." She half joked, her free hand through her hair a few times to help calm her nerves. Her eyes darted down toward the markings spiraling around her sisters hand. "They look like they were designed with love." She knew these were her wedding markings that swore her in as Rhys equal. "I've never been brave enough for tattoos." She admitted shyly, she had thought of asking Az if he wanted them to get some together. It seemed to be quite common among court of night. "That would be lovely, as long as you don't deem me a lost cause." Elain wasn't the artist her sister was, but she knew enough to get by. Mainly from decorating cakes and pastries along side her friends back home..

Watching the other, Feyre frowns and takes a step forward so she could reassure the other. "No, I'm sure you are, I'm sorry, there's just been some stuff going on in my life, but I doubt you are truly so forgetful. It's funny, I've met someone else who felt incredibly familiar and he said that he was rather forgetful as well, which I didn't believe for one second with his charming personality." She laughs softly at the thought of Rhys and shakes her head. "That must be why then, well, to properly introduce myself, I'm Feyre, and no, I did not design these markings, but they are interesting, aren't they?" She gestures towards her arms and smiles, turning one hand over so she could stare at the mountain top. "Do you need extra time to work on your painting or any advice?"

[nikethestatue]

I'll sit here and wait for the canon evidence that proves Elain wants something more with Az than a hookup.

"Az questioned his religion for Elain!" (also, why is that romantic, aren't people supposed to have faith and not doubt when it comes to religion? One guy pouting over what he didn't get isn't more important than the entire foundation on which their world was built). "Az gave Elain TT!" Ok, so where are we shown Elain wants a future with Az? That she loves Az? That she was sooo moved by the lending of his dagger? That she wanted anything more than a distraction? They focus solely on Az (misinterpreting his actions to boot) while completely ignoring that Elain has given zero signals of wanting anything serious with him yet claim how what the FMC wants are the most important thing. So show me the proof that Elain wants an actual relationship with Az, that she has true feelings for him. And no, observing that he rubs his temples is not proof of feelings, she in canon often notices things like this about the world around her.

I'll sit here and wait for the canon evidence of what Az actually likes about Elain as an individual.

Not her charming irreverence, that's what he liked about Gwyn. So what is unique to Elain that he in his own words / thoughts is drawn to? Weird how there's absolutely nothing outside of her looks and scent after 2 years of knowing her.

It's an interesting question, because of course that could be asked about anyone. How do we know that someone is interested in another person?

How did we know that Cassian was interested in Nesta? Most of his thoughts in Wings and Embers were sexual in nature--just as explicit as Azriel's, but also with a touch of violence. The first thing Cassian thinks about when he visits the still-human Nesta are her...ample breasts. And then he tries to kiss her. And then she knees him in the balls.

There are still people here, in the fandom, convinced that Nessian aren't even a thing and that she'll leave him for Eris.

So what's going to convince them? Because obviously a whole huge book hasn't convinced them.

Same with Feysand--firstly it was Feyre who wanted a distraction, not Elain, whose personality just doesn't align with casual sex. But besides that, people are still convinced that Rhys daematied Feyre and she is operating under his mind control.

Again, we had a trilogy plus a novella and they have a child together and people still don't believe that they are IT.

So, I suppose, the question could be posed to you--what makes you think that Elain isn't interested in Azriel? That she wants nothing beyond sex?

Because Elain's been observing him, noticing things about him (his words, not mine), he knows that she knows things about him that no one else does, she's been gifting him Solstice gifts (the only man that she's done that for), she clearly doesn't want him to be in pain or uncomfortable, hence the headache powder and the ear plugs. She KNOWS that he's been avoiding her for a year, and yet she still seeks him out, while expecting nothing.

In both of their cases, if you just want to jump someone's bones, why would you....avoid them? For a YEAR?

So it's interesting that you mention 'charming irreverence', but you don't mention "The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn."

You don't mention this either: She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.

You also don't mention this: She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn't feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she'd ask next.

It's just a simple case of selective reading --it's choose to amplify and concentrate on the things that you like, but you discard pretty much the entirety of Azriel and Elain's interactions in ACOFAS, for example. You also discard the rescue from Hybern. Was it all done just so that Azriel could have sex with her? That's seems like overkill.

The thing is--I am not here to convert anyone into Elrielism. That's not my aim or my job. It's not even my aim to have people 'see' Elriel. Elriel is obvious. If it's your choice to ignore ACOWAR, ACOFAS and ACOSF, then what can I do to convince you? Not a whole lot.

[pascalmode]

In The Stars (8 - The Light and The Shadows)

Hiiii!! This chapter is my way of apologizing for the lack of Azriel in the last one. I hope you enjoy!!! (From this point forward things are going to move along veeeery quickly (i hope)). Please let me know what you think! (Also, if anyone wants to draw any scenes from this chapter or any other, i would nooooot be opposed;))

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 6.1K

Warnings; None, I think. Just Asteria being obsessed with Az. Elain is there at some point. idk

Despite taking three baths, each filled with luxuriously scented oils and soaps, Asteria can’t seem to shake the bitter, coppery scent of blood that clings to her. 

She’d scrubbed harshly at her skin, only to be twice as rigorous when washing her hair, attempting to free the long, delicate silver strands of the scent to no avail. 

It lingers. 

Halfway through dinner that night, the entire inner circle and Feyre’s sister Elain gathered around a table filled with beautifully smoked and seasoned meats, steamed vegetables slathered in spices, and roasted potatoes with garlic and butter, Azriel reappeared. 

It only took him a couple of seconds to sniff the air and lock a hard, unreadable gaze on Asteria while everyone else peppered him with greetings. One shadow subtly split away from the rest, darting underneath the table and skittering over her entire form, as though attempting to discover the source of the coppery scent.

Having found nothing, the shadow whirls around the length of Asteria’s still-damp braid before it returned to its master. 

Azriel had taken the vacant seat across from the silver haired female, hazel eyes flashing with a concern that Asteria picked up on immediately. Beneath the table, Asteria nudged his foot with her own, their gazes met, and she allowed herself to offer him a small smile, enough to tell him; I’m okay.

His shoulders relaxed, and when Cassian sent him a brotherly taunt, the Shadowsinger didn’t miss a beat when he tossed out a smart retort, the entire table chuckled at the interaction. 

Except for Elain Archeron. Whose stare remained on Asteria, a slight frown seemingly glued to her lips. 

After the meal, the group moved to the living room, lounging on the couches and sharing several bottles of wine.

Azriel, hovering towards a door that would lead out to the yard, catches Asteria’s eye, discreetly nodding towards the dusk-lit lawn that had become their nightly meeting place, a thick blanket in hand. 

With everyone’s attention focused on Mor and Rhysand as they delve into a charming story from their childhood, Asteria follows the Shadowsinger outside to the area beyond the training ring. 

As soon as they sit down, the cold causes a damp-haired Asteria to shiver. 

A blanket drapes around her shoulders, warm hands lingering for an extra moment before Azriel settles beside her. 

“Thank you,” Asteria mutters, her hands, which are wearing a new pair of gloves that Feyre had bought for her before they left Velaris, close the thick fabric of the blanket around her, thankful that the spymaster beside her made a habit of bringing one out each night, though it often went unused, “Are you cold?”

“Illyrian,” Azriel states, as through it’s an answer. Asteria arches a brow, as though silently reminding the male that she isn’t from this world, and he didn’t explain as thoroughly as she needs. The Shadowsinger lets out a deep chuckle, lips quirked in a small smile, “I was raised in the mountains. Cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Asteria chimes, jealous although cold doesn’t usually get to her so easily. She moves past the weather around her, feeling content that her friend had returned from his assignment, like his presence had removed a weight that the female unknowingly had been holding onto her chest, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“You missed me, Asteria?”

Asteria huffs, unable to hold back her smile when she sees a glint of mischief glinting in the Shadowsinger’s eyes. She nudges him with her elbow, “I never said that.”

“It felt implied.”

“Your feelings may be deceiving you.”

Azriel’s mouth twists, as though holding back a grin, before it settles into an easy smirk, “I don’t think they are.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Azriel says, his smirk fading as his eyes direct themselves to the darkening sky, the first of the stars beginning to peer brilliantly into the night, “Because I can admit that you smell like blood, and that scares me.”

“It scares you?”

“What happened?”

“They attempted a surprise attack,” Asteria admits, shadows surrounding them growing darker, thicker, “It didn’t work out for them.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“Did they survive?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they were after?”

Asteria tries to draw up the memories she’d seen when she plunged into the mind of one of her assailants, trying to recall the orders and succeeding, “I don’t know who sent them, but they had clear orders to kill me.”

Azriel’s brow furrows, and his face is suddenly stone.

Keeping her eyes on the male, she lifts a hand from the confines of the blanket and removes one of her gloves with her teeth, once again revealing the scarred flesh beneath. Pulling a pearl of magic up from her well of power, letting it rest between her fingers and offering it to Azriel.

The Shadowsinger eyes it with interest, the faint light from it illuminating the angles of his face enough that he appears so achingly beautiful that Asteria has to remind herself to take a full breath. 

He opens his palm, holding it out to Asteria with silent permission. 

Asteria lays the pearl into the center of Azriel’s skin, watching as the light glows beneath the surface, her palm pressing into his.

What had occurred earlier in the day plays out in both of their mind’s eye, and Asteria lets Azriel see it all. She lets him feel the joy of the pianoforte interrupted by the sudden shock of an arrow bursting through the window of Murry’s music shop, and the clear, determined rage that had followed her over the wall of Velaris and led to the death of ten strange males. 

She lets him see each and every memory she’d pulled from one of the assailants. She shows him the life she’d wandered through before his neck snapped, and that same life ended. Every detail. 

When it’s over, Azriel’s own scarred fingers had wrapped around Asteria’s, the warmth of him blooming all the way up her arm to the center of her chest. 

She meets his eyes, expecting to find nothing but horror from the bloodbath. Repulsion after seeing the things she’d done. The lack of mercy. 

Instead, he’d softened yet again. Fond eyes searching hers for an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

Swallowing, and trying to slow her own heart, Asteria gingerly pulls her hand back to the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her, though she feels colder than ever, “That’s everything I know.”

Azriel nods, expression unchanging, “It’s useful. I can call in some favours.”

“From your spies?” Asteria is unable from blurting.

“Maybe,” Azriel murmurs, “Maybe not.”

“Very secretive of you.”

“Spymaster, remember?”

“How could I possibly forget?”

Azriel lets out another chuckle, and Asteria lifts her head, eyes taking in the expansive beauty of the darkening night sky, bright white stars gleaming above them. A sight she truly believes she’ll never tire of. 

A beat of comfortable silence, quickly broken.

Azriel speaks so softly that she almost doesn’t hear him, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I feel more than alright,” Asteria breathes, smiling as she thinks of how the ivory keys of the pianoforte felt under her fingers.

As though he could tell exactly where her mind wandered, Azriel nudges the female softly with his elbow, “You played that pianoforte.”

The memory makes her beam, an uncontrollable grin breaking across her face, and when she turns to Azriel, her careful eyes pick out the way he marks it, whatever tension remaining in his shoulders melting away, “I did. I played the crap out of that pianoforte.”

“I wish I could have heard it.”

“I can show you, if you want,” Asteria offers, the eager magic inside her already stirring. 

The Illyrian beside her smiles, the mischief from before returning into his burning hazel gaze, “I like that idea.”

Asteria is about to offer him another bead of magic, but before she can, Azriel stands. 

She looks up at his tall, lean form in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Standing. I thought that was obvious,” Azriel deadpans, “Perhaps you should ask me what I’m thinking about.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Please, humor me.”

Suspicious, yet tremendously curious, Asteria does, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that we fly down to that music store, and you play the pianoforte for me,” The Shadowsinger explains, his wings twitching in anticipation. 

“The music store?” Asteria echoes, “The same one I was just attacked in?”

“You’ll be kept safe.”

“You seem sure of yourself,” Asteria says, “What if they send another attack?”

Azriel holds out his hand, offering it to the silver-haired female, “We deal with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Asteria mutters as she takes Azriel’s hand, actions betraying her words as he pulls her to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her billowing in a chilled winter breeze. 

“Probably,” Azriel nods, “Though I can’t bring myself to care.”

Turning her gaze to where the property ends, a drop off of sudden darkness illuminated only by the stars above and the city lights below. 

Flying with Rhysand in broad daylight had been one thing, the High Lord taking half an hour to assure the female that it would be fine, but this– this is something else entirely. 

Asteria remembers what it felt like to fall through this sky, and through the skies of whatever distant realms she’d passed on the way here. She recalls how the dagger felt hilt-deep in her chest, and the frigid, icy fear that came with anticipating that her death would arrive sooner rather than later. 

The memory sends a shiver down her spine, and not realizing it, the female had taken up a death grip on the Shadowsinger’s hand. 

“Don’t drop me,” Asteria meekly get out. 

“I won’t.”

“No, seriously, I fell from the stars once already, and I have no intention of doing it again.”

“Asteria, look at me,” Azriel softly utters, waiting for the female’s green eyes to connect with his hazel ones. The moment they do, Azriel’s hand squeezes hers, and the building dread in her chest lessens itself, “Do you trust me?”

“Am I going to regret answering you?”

“Definitely.”

Asteria gulps, “Yes. I trust you.”

“Then I suggest you hang on.”

“What do you mea– AZRIEL!”

In an instant the Shadowsinger sweeps her up, blanket and all, his arms hooking beneath her legs and under her back, holding her tightly to his chest while powerful wings launch them straight up into the air, Asteria’s startled yelp drowned out by the wind rushing past her ears. 

Locking her arms as tightly she can muster around his neck, Asteria’s heart drops beneath the pit of her stomach when her eyes lock onto the earth hundreds of feet below them. 

And when Azriel suddenly tucks in his wings and dives, her heart plummets even further.

“Ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods,” The silver-haired female fearfully squeaks out, instinctually squeezing her eyes closed and hiding her face in Azriel’s neck as they pick up speed, far too panicked for his calming night-chilled mist and cedar scent to slow her racing heart. 

Then, wings shooting out, they hit an updraft, the plummeting decent halting completely. The sound of wings flapping steadily fills the open air, and Azriel easily glides through the chilled night sky.

“You okay?” The Shadowsinger asks, a slight chuckle catching Asteria’s attention. 

She lifts her face from his skin, catching the way his cobalt siphons gleam brightly enough that she can see his face and the amused expression he wears. Asteria curses him in her mind, unable to bring herself to speak this high up.

Chuckling once again, Azriel lets them drift closer to the ever-welcoming ground, “If you think this is bad, then never fly with Cassian.”

Asteria nods, unable to keep herself from hiding her face in Azriel’s neck once more, feeling how the arms that are holding her seem to tighten in response, a silent and unrelenting reassurance that the male would not allow her to fall away from him. 

When they finally reach the street, Azriel lands on the cobblestones with confident, practiced ease that seems as natural as the breathes that leave his chest.

Her feet on the ground, Asteria heaves in a relieved breath, allowing herself to release the iron clasp grip she’d had around Azriel’s neck. 

The Shadowsinger keeps a hand on the female’s back, the warmth of it reassuring, strong, and steady as some of his shadows flood into the cracks of a now boarded up window. The same window that had completely shattered when an arrow meant for Asteria sprung through it earlier that day. 

By impulse, Asteria’s gaze flicks up to the wall the archer had been poised atop of. She can hear the thwang! Of the bowstring releasing, the roar of the arrow soaring towards her. She can feel the centuries old killing calm flood over her, the calm beating of her heart over roaring adrenaline. A death blow. At least, it would have been if she hadn’t snatched it out of midair. 

Now, in the dim light of night there’s nothing visible to her. No one besides the Shadowsinger. 

It’s safe, the Realm around her nothing but silent. 

A silence that’s laid to rest when Azriel uses his dagger, an elegant blade he’s revealed to her as Truth-Teller, to aid him in prying off a the boards covering the window.

As soon as they’re loose, the dark haired male rips the boards loose, gently setting them aside before stepping into the shop with a light-footed ease that must have come with his centuries-long career as the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“This feels criminal,” Asteria whispers with a playful smile, taking Azriel’s hand when he offers it to her, helping her past a remnants of broken glass as he clears it away with his boots. She doesn’t need the help, she’s proven that much, but it’s the kind of gesture that makes her heart pound a bit harder in her chest. A gentleness she’d forgotten a long time ago. 

“That’s because it is.”

“Oh, good,” Asteria snorts, “I was starting to think breaking and entering was strictly an Erilean crime.”

Azriel looks at her over his shoulder wearing an amused smile so brightly delightful that it warms the entirety of Asteria’s being. 

The Shadowsinger was often unreadable, but when he smiled…

To say the sight is devastating would be the understatement of the century. 

Asteria can’t help the breath that leaves her, not even able to comprehend what he’d said to her, and in order to recover and hopefully avoid Azriel taking notice of the effect he has on her, she clears her throat and sets her focus on the very thing they’d come here for. 

The pianoforte. 

Settling onto the bench, Asteria smiles to herself, removing her gloves and running her hands over the smooth, polished wood that covers the ivory keys beneath. The greedy side of her wants to lift it and play until the joints in her fingers ache and she can’t sit up straight. But the rational part of her, the one that had been screaming for her to be cautious since she fell from the sky, speaks up.

“What if Murry hears?” Asteria finds herself asking, a nervous feeling suddenly gnawing at the pit of her gut. 

Azriel’s brow quirks up, and he moves to sit on the bench beside the silver-haired female, his massive form more apparent than ever on the small seat, “He won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“He lives in an apartment across town, and he doesn’t have any security wards in place. He has no way of knowing we’re here,” Azriel explains, “We’re fine, Ria.” 

All the questions, all the caution in Asteria’s mind quiets. Any thought wondering how he knew where Murry lived after a single encounter dancing in the square, how she’s supposed to play for him without alerting anybody, or when Azriel had even checked for wards slips from her mind.

Maybe it’s the nickname, or how he looks down her with a gaze so soft that she could cry, but Asteria realizes two things at once. Two things that are so simple, but also so world shattering that for the second time in only a few moments, the female loses her breath once again. 

The first; She trusts Azriel, wholly and completely. 

And the second; for the first time in a long time, Asteria has found something, someone, who makes her happy. 

It’s the trading of secrets beneath a glorious night sky, and seeking him out in every room she walks into. It’s early morning training and a mischievous glint in hazel eyes before taking off in flight. It’s splitting a bottle of wine and shadows calming building panic. It’s freedom. It’s rediscovering music, and dancing in a square with strangers. It’s sneaking off into the dark to play a piano. 

It’s her reality. She could be happy here. In Prythian. She could be happy with Azriel in her life. With the court she’d fallen into. 

Her thoughts pulsing in her mind, Asteria doesn’t even realize she’d opened the piano’s cover until the fingers of one of her hands are pressing down on ivory, the chords she unconsciously chooses filling the air with a joyous sound. Bright and warm, like being bathed in sunlight. 

Catching herself, Asteria pauses, unable to keep from smiling, blinking away the happy tears that had snuck up on her.

Unfortunately, Azriel notices.

His arm curls around her back, and the silver-haired female allows herself to lean into the Shadowsinger, releasing a breathy chuckle when a shadow swirls around her fingertips.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” Asteria says, beaming up at him and quickly wiping at her eyes, “Absolutely nothing. Anything you want to hear?”

The concern doesn’t leave Azriel’s gleaming Hazel eyes, but he does give her another mischievous smirk, “Do you know anything from this Realm?”

“No,” Asteria grins.

“Then play me something from yours.”

Humming in agreement, Asteria thinks for a second. It had been so long since she’d played that she doubts she’d even remember any of the pieces she’d written. 

But then, a memory slinks forward. 

It had been the day she’d showed up at Aelin’s warehouse apartment, much to Rowan and Aedion’s discontent, but Aelin didn’t mind. She’d been welcoming. She wanted Asteria’s raw, unrestrained power on their side. 

More than that, Aelin recognized Asteria’s name. 

Not as a part of the Cadre, not as a warrior, but as a composer. 

Asteria had dreamed up a composition that Aelin had been obsessed with, and the Heir of Terrasen wanted the piece written down. 

Asteria had obliged, and promised to one day play it for the blonde female, but she never got the chance before Maeve cast her out on that damned beach.

So, straightening her spine, Asteria closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and she starts to play. 

Last time, earlier that day, Asteria had been tentative, almost scared to press her fingers down onto the ivory. 

But here, now, whatever had held her back had been killed and left behind in the dust. 

The silver haired female plays with vigor, attacking the keys the same way she strikes with a sword; with the precision that only came with decades upon decades of practice and training. 

The melody thunders through the instrument, the music rising and swelling only to fade when Asteria commands it to, the highs and lows that make this piece so complex. 

It’s something she’d written so long ago, a gift to the male she once believed to be her mate, and for a while it was only his. That is, until he’d encouraged her to turn it into a symphony. 

Then, the piece had been played all over the continent, and then beyond. And Asteria’s name became associated with something other than Maeve, other than violence. 

Asteria Relridaar’s first act of defiance against the Queen she served. 

Focused, Asteria lets the passion pour from her, directly from her soul. Her entire body alight from the music in her mind, soul, and heart. Each press of the keys encourages the next, beckoning to her through the centuries of blood and pain and guiding her to a different path. To a new reality. 

The one she lives now. Free. Happy. 

Her soul, the deepest, most loveliest part of her, the one where her music comes from, shines. 

The piece comes to an eventual end, and when it does, Asteria slowly opens her eyes, lashes fluttering as she eases out of the trance the music had put her in, finding herself surrounded by light. 

All around her, small beads of magic, each one glowing like a small sun, hang in the air in every direction, some in front of her, some up high near the ceiling. 

In the soft glow that surrounds them, Asteria looks over to Azriel, finding his hazel eyes gleaming, seemingly glowing in the light of the magic, and a small crease between his brows, his mouth parted.

“You…” He trails off, voice a bit more hoarse than the last time she’d heard it, “You are magnificent.”

Heart thudding against her sternum, Asteria tries to catch her breath, his words igniting something deep within her soul that had been cold for so long that she’d forgotten about it completely.

She opens her mouth to speak, Azriel’s dark, mysterious beauty now completely overwhelming. 

So overwhelming, that when his gaze briefly darts to her lips, Asteria’s toes curl in her boots, and she finds her mind completely consumed by nothing but the scent of mist and cedar. 

Asteria lets herself shift closer to him, feeling Azriel’s hand that hadn’t left her back shift down to her hip, tugging her closer. 

He slowly inches down, hazel eyes carefully watching Asteria, as if expecting her to startle, or to bolt away faster than he’d be able to follow. 

But she can’t. She doesn’t even know how it would be possible for her to do anything else than melt into the solid male beside her. 

Azriel’s forehead rests against hers, warm breath fanning against her face while the knuckles of his other hand slowly graze the edge of her jaw, stirring up a warm, frenzied feeling in her stomach, like a swarm of butterflies taking flight for the first time in a century. 

Feeling her own hands trembling, Asteria peels them from the piano, tentatively running her hands up Azriel’s chest and feeling the way he sharply inhales at the touch. 

She leans up, letting her eyes flutter shut as their lips brush, just slightly, just enough for every nerve in Asteria’s body to ignite. 

A pleasant burn that only blazes hotter when Azriel’s hand slides into her hair, gently tilting her head back to a better angle, one that he needs.

Asteria knows she has no right to touch him, to crave him like the very air she breathes, and yet she finds herself doing both. And when he puts his mouth on hers, kissing her as though she’s something to treasure, she recognizes the taste of him, like he’d been made just for her.

Azriel’s lips are soft, and he tastes like mint and sugar; A taste that Asteria already knows she’ll never get enough of. An addiction that will never be fully satiated. 

Barely in control of her own body, her self-control long abandoned, Asteria’s hands travel upwards, her fingers sinking into Azriel’s thick, dark hair, the strands soft against her hands. 

Azriel lets out a low noise from the back of her throat, sending a tingle up Asteria’s spine. 

Slowly, as though it takes everything in him, Azriel eases away. A new flush of colour tinting his cheeks and the tops of his ears pink, and Asteria is absolutely certain her face mirrors his. 

Asteria tries to find something to say, only to find herself so giddy, so in disbelief over what they’d just done, that she can only manage a grin before she’s hiding her face against Azriel’s shoulder, hearing his low chuckle rumble through her bones. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Asteria asks after a long beat, her voice rasping in her throat.

“Please.”

“Earlier, when you asked if I missed you while you were away…” Asteria says, pulling away from Azriel so she’s able to look at his face, “I-I did. Miss you, I mean.”

His eyes shine with something Asteria can’t place in the soft light around them, “I owe you a secret in return.”

“I guess you do.”

“I missed you too, Asteria.”

Asteria feels heat burn her cheeks, a result of their kiss, or his molten gaze threatening to make her melt right where she sits, she isn’t sure.

Just then, there’s movement in her peripheral vision, and with reflexes like an asp, Asteria whips her head towards it, only to find a wisp of shadow curled around one of the smaller beads of magic that surround them. The shadow doesn’t balk, or cower from the light, and the light doesn’t dissipate, or shred through the darkness. 

The shadow whips around it curiously, harmlessly. 

Like a dance. 

The sight makes both Azriel and Asteria chuckle, the sound drawing the shadows attention, making it dart to the female and excitedly whirl around her long silver braid, were it stays, seemingly unable to leave her. 

“We should probably go,” Asteria says, mentally trying to find any excuse to stay in the small music shop for a few moments longer.

Azriel looks down at her, a brow quirked, “We can’t.”

“We can’t?”

“No,” The Shadowsinger says, his wondrous smile gracing his lips yet again, “Not until you teach me that piece.”

Asteria can’t help but match the male’s expression, “We may be in for a long night then.”

“I sincerely hope so.” 

—-

The Shadowsinger and the Realm Reader return to the house of wind after hours pressed shoulder to shoulder on a piano bench, Asteria teaching Azriel the music of her heart, and him picking up on it immediately. 

She had been completely surprised by the Illyrian male’s talent. His long fingers struck the ivory keys of the pianoforte with a deft familiarity that pleased Asteria to no end, and made her soul sing a long forgotten hymn. 

They’d been surrounded by music, beams of light and whisps of shadow, while they stole moment after moment in what felt like their own reality. A space, a place in time that belongs only to them. To a few more stolen kisses in empty music shops. 

It’s all Asteria thinks about when Azriel lands in their late night meeting spot, her entire body tingling with anticipation and two simple questions;

Will he kiss her again? And will he take her to bed?

Feet meeting the earth, Asteria’s hands linger around Azriel’s neck, his warm palms coming to rest at her waist. 

But before anything can be said, a throat clears. 

The sound jolts both Asteria and Azriel, the pair of them stepping away from each other in an instant, turning to face the one that had alarmed them. 

Elain Archeron. 

“Asteria,” The doe-eyed female greets, a kind smile on her lips, “I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

Suspicion seeps into Asteria’s most primal instinct, and she can’t keep her brow from raising, “About?”

“Az, if you could give us a moment,” Elain kindly requests. The female is in her dress from earlier in the evening, long sleeved and soft pink, a few floral embellishments along the skirt covered by a warm looking jacket, like she had actually been waiting outside for quite some time awaiting the other female’s return. 

The Shadowsinger nods, warm gaze connecting with Asteria’s for a long beat, a soft smile on his lips when he reaches for her hand, giving it a warm squeeze before he heads towards the house, nodding to Elain when he moves past her and inside. 

As soon as the door snicks shut behind him, Elain’s smile doesn’t drop, but something in her gaze becomes more serious– more severe. 

Asteria marks the shift, and crosses her arms across her chest, preparing herself for whatever the middle Archeron has to say. 

“Rhysand bought a piece of land by the River,” Elain begins, “A solstice gift for Feyre. A place for her to build them a home of her own design. It’s all quite lovely, really.”

Asteria’s eyes narrow, “I’m sure it is.”

“My sister, the High Lady, asked me if I’d like to plan out the estate’s garden.”

“That’s quite the honor.”

Elain’s head tilts thoughtfully, “It is, isn’t it? There is, however, an unfortunate issue.”

“Which would be?”

“I can’t bring myself to plan a garden for a land that’s rotting away.”

The warmth that had been alight within Asteria disappears completely, instead, dread runs up Asteria’s spine. She inhales deeply, fists clenching.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Elain continues, “I don’t know much about you, just what Feyre has told me, which is that you are the only person with the magic capable of healing the realm. I’d hate to watch the land my sister’s Mate bought for her wither away because of a strange female’s irresponsibility.”

Asteria’s words are ice-cold when she speaks, “Believe me when I tell you, I take the well-being of your realm very seriously.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“If you did, I believe that your every free moment should be spent preventing the destruction of-”

“Stop talking,” Asteria suddenly grits out, Elain halting completely from the venom filled voice of the Realm Reader, “From what I understand, your immortality is new to you. Mine is not. I have spent three of your lifetimes learning the rules and laws of nature and magic in my own realm. I did not choose to be here, but I am. I do not have claim to any power, or magic, or trust from this realm. It’s complicated, but I’m trying. I’m learning. I’m doing what I can, so I do apologize if this magic that you don’t understand isn’t moving at a place that you’d like.”

Elain’s once kind smile deepens into a frown, large brown eyes boring at Asteria as the silver haired female takes a couple steps towards her, continuing, “This is beyond you, Elain. It may even be beyond me, but I swear to you that I’m trying.”

Standing within arms length, Asteria watches as Elain’s spine straightens, and she lifts her chin, a look Asteria recognizes immediately; It’s Elain drawing up her courage. Something Asteria can pick out so clearly, because she’s done it a million times herself. 

“What about Azriel?” Elain asks. 

Asteria’s brows furrow, “What about him?”

“He’s had a difficult life.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you think you do,” Elain snaps, something Asteria suspects is a rare thing for her, “He’s been through a lot, far too much to explain, and now, after the war, I think we can agree he’s deserving of something… Gentle.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re a jagged edge,” Elain states, “And not what he needs.”

A jagged edge.

The words hit Asteria like a punch to the gut, but she doesn’t show it. She refuses to. She doesn’t get fire back, because if she does, it would be hard to stop. 

She can’t imagine the Court would be so accepting of her if she slaughtered the High Lady’s sister exactly where she stands. 

Roping in her anger, and the rage slowly starting to burn inside her gut, Asteria takes a deep breath and starts tunneling rapidly into her well of power. 

“Hm,” Asteria hums, feeling her eye twitch before she meets Elain’s gaze. The Archeron female flinches at her stare, which Asteria takes as her own small victory, “Plan your garden, Elain.”

“What?”

“Plan your garden,” Asteria sneers, knowing exactly what she’s about to do while moving past the female and into the House of Wind, hearing the greetings of the inner circle, but not stopping to return them. 

Asteria moves through the house until she finds the staircase.

When she’d first woken up after her fall from the nigh sky, Rhysand had given her a tour of the house she’d be staying in, explaining that the two ways out of the estate were either by flight, or by ten thousand stairs.

With the rage building inside of her, and her focus spinning deeper and deeper into her own magic, ten thousand seems small. 

As she descends, Asteria mutters angrily to herself; harsh curse words and the middle Archeron sister’s name spilling out in the fleury of vexed rambling as she heads down, down, down. 

By the time she reaches the ground, Asteria’s legs burn like they did when she first started training as a child in Doranelle, her stomach flips uncomfortably, but she doesn’t care. Not when she hits the bottom of her well of power. 

Gritting her teeth, Asteria stalks towards the woods, pushing hard against the barrier of her own magic, trying to find what had been there before Prythian and finding nothing. 

She doesn’t stop trying, though. Walking deeper into the treeline she slams again and again into the bottom of the pit, trying to crack the ground, dive through it– anything. But coming up with nothing. 

Still, Asteria doesn’ falter. 

Finding herself surrounded by trees, the only sound around her being the clicks from insects and the occasional rustle of tree branches in the winter wind, Asteria sinks to her knees. 

Ripping her gloves off of her hands, the female sinks them into the earth.

Then, the Realm Reader rips her magic up from the bottom of the pit. She latches onto it with an iron grip, tearing it upwards and through her before plunging it into the Realm. 

Elain had been wrong, Asteria isn’t a just a jagged edge, she’s bloody knuckles and layers of scars. She’s more than that– She’s a blade. 

A blade that had been forged in fire, beaten again and again, and honed to perfection over the centuries. A fighter. A blademaster. The most powerful fae in all of Erilea. 

She knows it. It’s time this Realm learns it too. 

When the Realm’s voice comes through, no doubt to dismiss the female, Asteria silences it. 

She brings her magic down fiercely, and without mercy, feeling it spread out beneath her. The light burns, singing her hands as the Realm tries to reject it, but Asteria doesn’t care. She grits her teeth, pushing harder, faster– Relentless.

Feeling the surge of energy, Asteria shouts, feeling herself already beginning to tire, to burn out completely. 

So she keeps going. 

The light floods from her, deeper and deeper into the core of the Realm before whatever had been keeping her at bay, whatever had been resisting her, snaps completely. 

Screaming, Asteria watches a web of light beneath her dart out in every direction, disappearing further than she can see before a single beam of light shoots up from the earth and into her chest. 

Asteria is silenced by the bone shattering pain that explodes into her chest, the ache flowing upwards into her skull and past her mental shields as though they were made of a single thread. 

Her memories, the most painful ones, play out in her mind’s eye. She sees herself swearing her life to Maeve, to the bloodshed she’d carried out in the Queen’s name. She sees the moment she was handed over to Cairn in front of the entire court. 

It’s this moment, this excruciating sting, that Asteria knows what’s happening. 

Someone is in her head, walking through her life, just as she’s done to so many others. 

“No,” Asteria manages to grit out, reaching into her well of power for more magic, just a drop more, enough to stop this as reels of her own torture play out before her, “No!”

With a cry, Asteria whips out the last bead of her magic, the light making itself a blade and plunging into her own chest, severing the connection with a final burst of light that echoes out beyond the forest, shaking trees in its wake.

Gasping, Asteria falls face down into the singed grass, her ears ringing and limbs feeling like they’ve been filled with lead. Her heart beats erratically, and she’s barely able to draw breath into her lungs. 

At the edge of consciousness and something unfamiliar, Asteria thinks of her home. She thinks of Erilea. Of the forests and caverns she’d explored and the friends she’d once made. All the things she’d lost.

Before she fades, there’s a voice in her head that she doesn’t recognize. 

I understand now, it says, Where no High Lord or Lady would ever return, I will be waiting.   With the silence that follows, Asteria plunges into icy darkness.

-----

Taglist; let me know if you'd like to be added!:)

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii @feyretopia @hideing @eat-cake @warzaines @brekkershadowsinger

Let me know what you think, and if you have any predictions about what happens next!:)

[wingedblooms]

Have you posted anything about your thoughts on Gwyn and Azriel? Whether they’ll be an endgame or not? Az’s bonus scene threw me off about Gwyn, the last line: “The thing of secret, lovely beauty “ I almost thought he was pursuing for Gwyn but I’ve reread it thrice now and I’m leaning more on him being pulled there by Gwynn’s siren song…I don’t think he’s there by his free will. I think he was nudged there… right? 🙈

Thank you for the ask! In general, I try to steer away from (and filter out) this topic because it is so divisive, but I can understand the concern and will respond with my own interpretation. Possible Maas multiverse spoilers below.

First, I don’t think we have enough evidence to even suggest that either Azriel or Gwyn are interested in each other romantically, let alone endgame. That could eventually change, but if I were using the evidence we have right now to determine who is more likely to be endgame in the next book, it would be Elain and Azriel. I am also personally more interested in the kind of story they would offer as seer and spymaster. There are some who disagree with that perspective, and that’s okay; we don’t have to agree.

You brought up the refrain, a thing of secret, lovely beauty, which I think is one of the most interesting parts of Azriel’s bonus chapter. It reminds me of other phrases Sarah has used before, like a perfect, pretty trap for the Weaver’s cottage. A refrain is meant to draw your attention, so I do think it’s repeated for a reason. And in all honesty, there are several possibilities. I don’t think the possibility I’m about to suggest has ever been posted, but I could be wrong. I’m not suggesting it’s the most likely possibility, but it is the one I prefer.

I think it’s important to remember that the phrase is referring to a thing, not a who. It first appears in the paragraph about the necklace that Azriel selected for and gifted to Elain in the dead of the longest night of the year, with only the Mother as witness. Well, and no-good, busybody Rhysand. If the necklace wasn’t described so thoroughly, and such a large focus of the bonus, I would feel more comfortable saying it means little and will never be seen again like Cassian’s first solstice gift to Nesta. No such luck here.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

The necklace is called an amulet, and amulets typically offer protection. It’s tiny and ordinary enough to be dismissed as an everyday charm, but it’s not truly ordinary. It has hidden depths, secrets. Unsurprisingly, Elain—who is canonically beautiful and underestimated and keeping secrets—appreciates the beauty of this necklace. We don’t know the story behind it, whether it was custom made or found, but I couldn’t have picked a more fitting necklace for Elain myself. Even more so because Azriel finds himself in the foyer as she descends the stairs, and the faelight makes her glow like the sun at dawn.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

Exactly like the necklace does when the faelight shines upon it.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

And then when Azriel and Elain are about to kiss, he invokes the Mother:

But he could have this. The one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. “Yes,” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

This doesn’t seem to be a coincidence. In the chapter before solstice and thus Azriel’s bonus chapter, Nesta tells us that she felt the need to set Elain’s carved rose next to the figurine that may be the Mother:

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer.

As I’ve mentioned in the post on Elain’s murky realm, I think she is deeply connected to the sacred trio (Mother, Cauldron, Fate) and may even act on their behalf. That lovely, kind, sage, and warm female voice may actually be her own. The same one that makes an appearance during dire circumstances in Oorid and when her family nearly dies at the end, just like Elain appeared suddenly on the battlefield. It was Elain—not the Cauldron—that answered Feyre’s pleas when she was about to witness Nesta and Cassian die.

So then how does it end up at the library, and why? Sarah uses similar language—he found himself—to potentially give us a clue. It’s almost as if he’s drawn by a force, rather than moving of his own volition. He is drawn to the foyer exactly when Elain is descending, and he is drawn to the library at exactly the time dusk services typically begin. And who does he find there? Clotho. Rather than overseeing dusk services as the High Priestess, like she did when Nesta had her vision that uncovered the location of the Harp, she is sitting at her desk. Could it be that she was…expecting Azriel?

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square. Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening.

Without any kind of prelude, Azriel gives the necklace to Clotho and asks her to pass it on to Gwyn (or any other priestess who might enjoy it). He’s a very thoughtful gift giver and worries over getting the Archeron sisters gifts in ACOFAS, so it is strange that he abruptly changed course and appeared in the library to re-gift a necklace that was intended for someone else, someone who makes him feel strong emotions, including writhing need. Like Cassian with his gifts to the Illyrian families, Azriel tries to attribute the necklace to Rhys when Clotho pushes him on his preference for anonymity. Not only is it not romantic, but it is kind of awkward. Clotho notices that he is sad, and hears the lie when he tries to deflect. She tells him that she will give it to Gwyn, and adds, perhaps out of kindness:

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Her words are striking, and I’m not sure if anyone has noticed this before, but it’s because they remind me yet again of Elain’s carved rose and what Nesta associates with it at the end of ACOSF:

Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and Nesta held love in her own heart as she pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world.

Elain’s rose, which was carved for her by Papa Archeron, was a reminder of the beauty and good her father tried to bring into the world. Unsurprisingly, he and Elain have this in common; they were close, hence the painting of them that was described in detail. Elain is consistently linked to love and beauty: she will wed for love and beauty, her beauty is such that it brings kings to their knees, and she brings joy and beauty into the world regardless of the circumstances. She gives thoughtful gifts to others, even when they were poor, in order to bring them joy:

Father: a new chisel for carving

Feyre: paints, paintbrushes, cake with her own art design from the dresser

Nesta: romance book set, scarf, unlimited books

Azriel: headache powder, ear plugs

And she beautifies the world around her with gardens wherever she goes, even when she is poor or suffering. It was not practical then, but that is the point—joy and beauty are not practical, but they are necessary. They spread hope. And people need hope, especially in their darkest moments. Clotho echoes this sentiment almost exactly when she tells Azriel how much joy Elain’s necklace will bring to Gwyn. Hope is infectious, so of course the thought of bringing joy to Gwyn sparks something in Azriel’s chest. And he is given the gift of being able to picture that joy, for whatever reason: how Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. To me, this image lacks romantic prose (even Nesta’s observations of Gwyn’s eyes are more romantic than this thought), but it doesn’t have to be romantic to be meaningful. It gives him hope in a dark moment.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason. . . he could see it. […] But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

And then, we see this phrase return at the end—in a separate paragraph.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

There are numerous theories out there, very compelling ones that have been well-researched and argued. But the one I prefer is this: the thing of secret, lovely beauty is Elain’s power, represented by the necklace and the mysterious events that surround it. The first mention defines it and the repetition allows us to see it in action. We know the Cauldron thought she was so lovely it wanted to give her something. With her oracular and mystic abilities, I believe she can use influence (one might call it a force) to protect others and create a more hopeful future unseen (she’s already done it, in fact). It’s why her role in the war has been forgotten (or dismissed) and she remains half-hidden in the shadows. It would be interesting if, somehow, she was already working with the priestesses, who also worship the Mother and operate in the shadows of the library.

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.”

Like a gardener, Elain’s powers allow her to plant seeds long before we can see the beautiful result. I suspect that’s why she was chosen for those specific gifts—she can play the long game, doing whatever is necessary in a fairly loving way. Before the bonus, she said she would start reacquainting herself with her powers and was riveted by the stories of her sister and the Valkyries. It’s possible she may have even seen something with her powers that compelled her to act. If that necklace can offer protection, like an amulet normally would, perhaps there is a reason it needed to go to Gwyn. She is instrumental to Nesta and the Valkyries, and there seem to be larger forces at play that threaten their future. They cannot afford squabbles over a necklace. Elain did what was necessary to create more hope, and did it in a way that brought Azriel comfort. That’s the different kind of strength I want to read about in the next book, and I trust that Sarah wouldn’t have her faves, Feyre and Rhys, agree that they would focus on Elain next if that wasn’t where she was headed.

I sighed, absently rubbing my still-flat stomach. “Let’s focus on helping one sister before we start on the other.”

“Agreed,” Rhys drawled.

It’s also quite clear that Elain is more than ready to have her story told:

But Elain turned on her heel. “Find me when you wish to begin.” The doors shut behind her.

How much do you want to bet she didn’t wait for them to find her to begin?