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wingedblooms · 2 years ago

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Wraithlike

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

In the Throne of Glass series, Sarah makes quite a few references to wraiths. Forms that are wraithlike are nearly transparent; they are bodies that aren’t bodies. These forms move like the wind and appear suddenly. The most striking references include the void, like when Aelin and Manon enter a witch mirror and watch a memory in the space between. Or the references to hell, especially the grieving queen who walks like she is traveling through a dreamscape, or an empty, barren hell. Take a look for yourself:

He dragged a hand across the floor before the darkness, and greenish lights sprung up from where his fingers passed before being sucked into the void like wraiths on the wind. One of his hands was bleeding. (tog) Dorian Havilliard stood at the ballroom window, watching Celaena and Chaol dance in the garden beyond, their dark cloaks flowing around them like they were no more than two wraiths spinning through the wind. After hours of dancing, he’d finally managed to get free of the ladies demanding his attention, and had come to the window to get some much-needed fresh air. (com) Slowly, like lovely wraiths from a hell-realm, the witches appeared. (qos) Aelin had a body that was not a body. She knew only because in this void, this foggy twilight, Manon had a body. A nearly transparent, wraithlike body, but … a form nonetheless. (eos) Clad in white silk, her long curtain of dark hair unbound, the Grand Empress strolled, silent and grave as a wraith, down a walkway wending through the rock formations of the garden. Only moonlight filled the space—moonlight and shadow, as the empress strode alone and unnoticed, her simple gown flowing behind her as if on a phantom wind. White for grief—for death. […] Nesryn lingered in the shadows of the pillar, watching the woman drift farther away, as if she were wandering the paths of some dreamscape. Or perhaps some empty, barren hell. (tod) Silent as wraiths, they appeared across the glen. As if they’d simply sparked into existence in the shade of the foliage. Little bodies, some pale, some black as night, some scaled. Mostly concealed, save for spindly fingers and wide, unblinking eyes. Elide gasped. “The Little Folk.” (koa) It was over before it really started. The mercenary got in two hits, both met with those wicked-looking daggers. And then she knocked him out cold with a swift blow to the head. So fast—unspeakably fast and graceful. A wraith moving through the mist. (ab) The moon illuminated the mist swirling along the leaf-strewn ground, and made the trees cast long shadows like lurking wraiths. And there—standing in a copse of thorns—was a white stag. Celaena’s breath hitched. (ab)

Naturally, I was curious how these links held up when we actually meet wraiths in A Court of Thorns and Roses (acotar) and Crescent City (cc). In acotar, we meet half-wraith twins who appear and disappear suddenly, even into a puff of smoke. Amren says they are nothing but shadow and mist, and can travel through walls.

They appeared through the cracks from slivers of darkness, just as Rhysand had. But while he’d solidified into a tangible form, these faeries remained mostly made of shadow, their features barely discernable, save for their loose, flowing cobweb gowns. They remained silent when they reached for me. I didn’t fight them—there was nothing to fight them with, and nowhere to run. The hands they clasped around my forearms were cool but solid—as if the shadows were a coating, a second skin. (acotar) The shadow maids, as usual, walked through the walls and vanished. (acotar) Nails clicked on stone, and my escorts swapped glances before they swung me into an alcove, a tapestry that hadn’t been there a moment before falling over us, the shadows deepening, solidifying. I had a feeling that if someone pulled back that tapestry, they would see only darkness and stone. One of them covered my mouth with a hand, holding me tightly to her, shadows slithering down her arm and onto mine. She smelled of jasmine—I’d never noticed that before. After all these nights, I didn’t even know their names. (acotar) Amren, at least, knocked this time before entering. Nuala and Cerridwen, who had finished setting combs of mother-of-pearl into my hair, took one look at the delicate female and vanished into puffs of smoke. “Skittish things,” Amren said, her red lips cutting a cruel line. “Wraiths always are.” “Wraiths?” I twisted in the seat before the vanity. “I thought they were High Fae.” “Half,” Amren said, surveying my turquoise, cobalt, and white clothes. “Wraiths are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone—you name it. I don’t even want to know how those two were conceived. High Fae will stick their cocks anywhere.” I choked on what could have been a laugh or a cough. “They make good spies.” (acomaf)

In Crescent City, Vanir wraiths change bodies often to maintain a youthful appearance (thanks for this reminder, @offtorivendell!). We learn this when Bryce meets Vik, a wraith who is trapped in the beautiful body she possesses, and then ripped from that same body and contained in a box at the bottom of the Melinoë Trench as punishment. (This is a terrible punishment, but the name is fitting—Melinoë was associated with ghosts, and wraiths are ghostly in appearance.) Micah is truly the worst.

The wraith folded her alabaster hands in her lap, the unnatural elegance the only sign of the ancient power that rippled beneath the calm surface. Vik had no body of her own. Though she’d fought in the 18th, Isaiah had learned her history only when he’d arrived here ten years ago. How Viktoria had acquired this particular body, who it had once belonged to, he didn’t ask. She hadn’t told him. Wraiths wore bodies the way some people owned cars. Vanir wraiths switched them often, usually at the first sign of aging, but Viktoria had held on to this one for longer than usual, liking its build and movement, she’d said. Now she held on to it because she had no choice. It had been Micah’s punishment for her rebellion: to trap her within this body. Forever. No more changing, no more trading up for something newer and sleeker. For two hundred years, Vik had been contained, forced to weather the slow erosion of the body, now plainly visible: the thin lines starting to carve themselves around her eyes, the crease now etched in her forehead above the tattoo’s twining band of thorns. (hoeab) At least Bryce could now appreciate the beauty before her: the dark hair and pale skin and stunning green eyes were all Pangeran heritage, speaking of vineyards and carved marble palaces. But the grace with which Viktoria moved … Viktoria must have been old as Hel to have that sort of fluid beauty. To be able to steer her body so smoothly. (hoeab) “Through the glare of the firstlight beams atop the remote submersible, more fleshy white bits floated by. This was what the wraith Viktoria had been damned by Micah to endure. The former Archangel had shoved her essence into a magically sealed box while the wraith remained fully conscious despite having no corporeal form, and dropped her to the floor of the Melinoë Trench. […] The wraith’s shoebox-sized Helhole had been bespelled against the pressure. And Viktoria, not needing food or water, would live forever. Trapped. Alone. No light, nothing but silence, not even the comfort of her own voice. (hosab)

What does this mean for Elain’s story, and why am I even mentioning her in a wraith meta? In the acotar series, Nuala and Cerridwen, half-wraith twins, draw Elain out of her grief and help her learn how to bake. Sarah mentions that Elain considers them her friends twice in acosf alone:

Tending to the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens–she had purpose, and joy, and friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysand’s household. (acosf) “You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

She also plants the idea that Elain might be engaging in stealth training with them (and/or Azriel, who trained them). That would make sense since she has learned from them before and she started to move like them after developing a friendship. She tends to move silently and appears suddenly, even stepping out of shadow. Before she was Made, Elain moved with the grace of a doe, so that newfound skill may have come fairly naturally.

In acosf, Nesta also recalls how Elain was after being Made and refers to her as a ghost. She comments that she (Nesta) was the ghost now, worse than a ghost: she was a wrathful wraith. This description of a wraith doesn’t quite match what we know about the few wraiths in the maasverse we’ve met; it seems more like a frightening bedtime story of a legendary monster, which is perhaps meant to reflect Nesta’s own inner turmoil. But the description of Elain when she is first Made is eerily similar to the wraithlike queen in tod:

Where Nesta had been in contented silence before we found her, Elain’s silence was…hollow. Empty. Her hair was down—not even braided. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it unbound. She wore a moon-white silk dressing robe. She did not look, or speak, or even flinch as we entered. Her too-thin arms rested on her chair. That iron engagement ring still encircled her finger. Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. […] Nesta’s rage was better than this…shell. This void. My breath caught as I edged around her chair. Beheld the city view she stared so blankly at. Then beheld the hollowed-out cheeks, the bloodless lips, the brown eyes that had once been rich and warm, and now seemed utterly dull. Like grave dirt. (acowar)

The interesting part about this connection is that Elain likely was wandering through some dreamscape like a wraith with her Sight. This pale, hollow image of Elain also aligns with the definition of a wraith.

Elain appears wraithlike again (probably on purpose) when she wears a black gown in the Hewn City, a place of rotting darkness. Cassian notes:

“Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved modest gown leeched the brightness from her face.” […] He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her.” (acosf)

Elain’s black dress makes her look plain and invisible compared to her sister. She lacks color and vibrancy just as she did in the House of Wind, though in black instead of white. It’s possible she did this on purpose since she’s altered her appearance before and the half-wraith twins helped her dress for that occasion, too. Could they have dressed her strategically to escape notice on solstice, and could this be another hint of wraithlike powers?

In Song of the wind, I wondered if Elain could be a pale wraith, a force of light and color and wind, who moves like Hope through the Void. She’s described in terms that do not have a definite form (pale, golden mass in his arms; sunlight on gold; purple and gold flashed), and even asked Amren about changing bodies in acofas. We know that Vanir wraiths can wear different bodies, like shapeshifters walk in different skins (ie., skinwalkers). Wraiths, however, have no definite form beneath the body they wear. Is that the true reason why Elain boldly asked Amren if she could take a different form, change bodies?

“Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form? […] Then why did you pick this body? […] And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” (acofas)

Elain as a wraith (or wraith adjacent, lol) would be a fun way to come full circle with the parallel @kimsnnn discusses here. After pointed inquiry about Amren’s otherworldly eyes, Nesta’s otherworldly power glowed silver in her eyes. It’s possible the dinner conversation about changing form might then be a hint that Elain and Amren will share otherworldly forms. Amren’s otherworldly form was a bird of prey, a messenger. She watched over humans, and when ordered, acted as a soldier-assassin.

Amren smiled slightly—at me, at Varian. “I watched them for so many eons. Humans—in my world, there were humans, too. And I watched them love, and hate—wage senseless war and find precious peace. Watched them build lives, build worlds. I was … I was never allowed such things. I had not been designed that way, had not been ordered to do so. So I watched. And that day I came here … it was the first selfish thing I had done. For a long, long while I thought it was punishment for disobeying my Father’s orders, for wanting. I thought this world was some hell he’d locked me into for disobedience.” (acowar)

You know who else watches others through physical eyes and Cauldron-blessed Sight? Elain. I’ve wondered before if she is an otherworldly messenger and/or guardian like Silba’s owl or the Suriel (who is your stereotypical wraith). Alert and aware. Silent travelers, full of wisdom. There are some who even believe the word wraith is connected to the Norse word for watcher, but several sources indicate the origin is unclear. Regardless, Elain acts like a wraithlike guardian, appearing suddenly out of shadow to protect her family. It's possible she used this skill to wear the body of Balthazar and help Nesta and Emerie find safety during the Blood Rite.

Even if Elain isn’t an actual wraith, I think we can reasonably predict that she will learn more from Nuala and Cerridwen, and their gifts may complement her own as she practices using her Cauldron-blessed powers. When she cannot see something, Elain says it is all mist and shadow, and Nuala and Cerridwen are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone. Could they teach Elain how to break through the walls of her Sight?

With all the connections wraiths seem to have with void and hell, Nuala and Cerridwen may help her use the Void to peer into and/or travel to Hel (as both @offtorivendell and I have theorized). It would make sense for them to use the space between together, especially if Elain has mystic abilities and can move fluidly across space like a wraith’s essence. They’ve been helping her all along and will probably continue to do so. In her own words, Elain already told us that “Nuala and Cerridwen will help her [me]” (acowar). And there are so many things Elain seems eager to learn from them.

Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour. Some sort of doughy mess on the surface before them. The two handmaiden-spies instantly bowed to Rhys, and Elain— There was a slight sparkle in her brown eyes. As if she’d been enjoying herself with them. Nuala swallowed hard. “The lady said she was hungry, so we went to make her something. But—she said she wanted to learn how, so��” Hands wreathed in shadows lifted in a helpless gesture, flour drifting off them like veils of snow. “We’re making bread.” (acowar)

P.S., Is it any coincidence that they likely look like three lovely ghosts, covered in flour, when they work together?

#elain archeron #nuala and cerridwen #wraithlike elain #lovely wraiths #wraiths on the wind #watchers #guardians #ever shifting form #like the goddess of fate #major Urd vibes #flame and shadow #maasverse theories

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mellowmusings · 2 months ago

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Blessed mistakes | part 1 Azriel x reader

prologue part2

A/N—I wasn't even going to continue this series, but thank you all for the love I get on my fics. I literally love you all so much. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part One: Silent Distance

The days had become quieter, colder. Azriel had hardly noticed the shift at first. There had been no sharp, clear break, no moment of realization that something between him and Y/N had changed. It was more like the subtle dimming of light, a slow fading that he couldn't quite place, and by the time he realized the distance, it felt too late to fix.

He was busy. Always busy. Missions, meetings, responsibilities—his life had become a blur of endless duties, all of which he threw himself into with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every waking moment was occupied with something—someone. His brothers, his work, and, in the rare quiet moments, the heavy weight of his own thoughts.

But through all of that, there had been Y/N. Always there. Always steady. Always understanding. She had been his anchor, his confidante. She always knew when to stay silent, when to speak, when to pull him out of his head and into the present. He had always relied on her in ways he hadn’t even fully understood.

It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t care. He did. More than he could admit, especially to himself. But there were things he couldn’t change—things like his duties and his... impossible feelings. Feelings for someone who would never see him the way he saw her. And that someone was always there, too, always lingering just outside of his reach. It was easier, in some ways, to focus on the work, to throw himself into the mission, to avoid the vulnerability of his own emotions.

And so, he did.

Y/N had stopped coming around as often. She was still there, in the background, but it was clear she wasn’t the same. She didn’t linger after meetings anymore. She didn’t tease him, didn’t joke like she used to. Her presence, once a constant comfort, had become a quiet thing—distant, even when she was standing right next to him. She seemed to slip away, a little more each day, but Azriel didn’t notice, not at first.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the war room late one evening, alone with his thoughts, that he felt it. The absence. The silence in the air that was too thick, too suffocating. He looked up from the maps strewn across the table, expecting to see Y/N by the door or leaning against the wall, ready to offer some lighthearted comment about how the plan was absurd. But she wasn’t there.

He frowned, a small pang of unease flaring in his chest. He hadn’t seen her much lately, had barely spoken to her in the last few days. Busy, he reminded himself. He was busy, after all. But it didn’t sit right.

Azriel left the war room in search of her, making his way down the familiar corridors of the House of Wind. He passed Mor’s room first, saw the flicker of light under the door, and for a moment, the idea of knocking—of spending time with her—felt... comforting. But he didn’t. He couldn’t focus on that right now.

Finally, he found her. Y/N was sitting alone in the garden, her back to him, staring out at the moonlit horizon. She looked so small, like a silhouette against the night. It struck him, in that moment, how much he missed her presence. How long had it been since they’d shared a quiet evening like this, just the two of them? How long had it been since she’d smiled like she meant it?

"Y/N?" His voice was tentative, unsure, as though he wasn’t sure if he should disturb the quiet of the night.

She turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she blinked quickly, brushing it off. "I didn’t hear you come in," she said, her voice flat.

He frowned, taking a few steps toward her. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," she said quickly, her smile tight and forced. It didn’t reach her eyes. "Just needed some space."

Azriel hesitated, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. He knelt down beside her, his eyes searching her face. "Y/N..." He trailed off, unsure of how to push through the wall she’d built between them. "What’s going on?"

She met his gaze, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, before she finally spoke, her voice low. "I’m not sure I belong here anymore, Az."

His chest tightened at her words, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. She wasn’t the one to pull away, not like this. Not so... cold.

"You’re still my friend, Y/N," he finally said, his voice low, almost too soft.

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "I know. But that’s the thing, Az. I’m just... a friend." The words hung in the air between them like a curse.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The weight of the unspoken truth crashed over him. Y/N had always been more than a friend to him, but he had never been able to show her that. She had never been anything more than a shadow behind the love he couldn’t admit, a shadow he had taken for granted.

"I’ve been thinking," she continued, her voice trembling just slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "I need to leave for a while. I volunteered for diplomatic work—there’s a mission to the Autumn Court. I’ll be gone for some time."

Azriel blinked, surprised, and instinctively reached out for her arm. "What? No, Y/N. You don’t have to go. You don’t need to leave."

But her eyes were already averted, a distance between them that he couldn’t cross. "I think I do, Az. I think I need to get away from here. From you."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t wait for him to make things right, because she knew that things couldn’t be fixed. Not anymore.

"I’ll be gone in a few days," she said quietly, standing up, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I hope you’ll be... alright."

Azriel watched her walk away, his heart sinking lower with each step she took. She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for him to say anything else. And as she disappeared into the darkness of the hall, Azriel finally felt it. The sting of something lost. The realization that he had been too blind to see it, too focused on his own distractions to notice what had been right in front of him all along. taglist- @anarchiii @er1023 @clementine111002 @sunnyspycat

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