#Lucien was willing to lay down his life for Feyre his friend

[crazy-ache]

We are not the same.

Some folks: SJM foreshadowed a blood duel between Azriel and Lucien in the Bonus Chapter to win Elain’s heart/claim his mate.

Me, an intellectual: SJM foreshadowed the blood duel in regard to Lucien because he will use it to save Elain’s life, likely from Beron, because this time he will be powerful enough to stop Jesminda’s fate from repeating itself again.

[acourtofthought]

I haven't seen this particular gem of a post but there is apparently one going around stating that everyone in the ACOTAR world has suffered more than Lucien, that he doesn't know suffering.

Just a little starter here. The first book began with Lucien's friend being murdered because they needed to sacrifice him in order to break the curse on Spring.

"Autumn Court is ...cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title."

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline." "His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch."

"Without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them went out to kill him."

"But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has."

"She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin...The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend."

Lucien's brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd - no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces. Amarantha sighed. "I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue." Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready - he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self into dust.

"but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes." (remember, because he tried to help Feyre in her trial? Also she prevented Lucien from being able to heal).

"Lucien lay chained to the center of the floor on the other side of the chamber, his remaining russet eye so wide that it was surrounded with white. / Again he was to be Amarantha's toy to torment."

"Don't give me that look, Lucien." SIlence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien.

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever and sad, endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless -

"She - she didn't act that way at..." Lucien. Lucien had hated her. Had made vague, vicious allusions to not liking her, to being approached by her. I was going to throw up. Had she...had she pursued him like that? Had he...had he been forced to say yes because of her position?

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly.

I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together. That I had known Tamlin would come to my room tonight, after I had given him so many shy touches and glances today.

"Back off". "Do not touch me," he growled." Where Lucien stood, back against a tree - twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. / And in this case...holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted."

"Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?"

The circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And a whole lot of nothing.

"I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to be I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said.

"The same things he does now." Helion waved a hand. "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them." (So to recap, Beron physically and verbally abuses his WIFE, killed Lucien's love and people think he had an easy childhood with this man?)

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much - why they have tormented him his entire life.

I hadn't asked Lucien any questions about that visit - to Tamlin. Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chances I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit" - Side note but even knowing this, about how the people feel about him because of Feyre's schemes, Lucien still allowed the NC to permanently station him there in SF. It's really cute of E/riels to think Az is having such a rough go of it, living in the Night Court with the brothers who love him, while Lucien just has it so easy, right?

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris's and Beron's cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father.

This paragraph is about Eris: Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. / The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him?

So with that said, If that's how Beron treated his own son how do you think he treated the son he suspected belonged to another man?

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

So by all means, I'd love to know how a character who we have canon evidence of suffering from his younger years all the way through the present has it so much easier than everyone else?

Someone's selective reading is showing!!

[forget-me-not-s]

Forbidden

Day 4 of Elriel Month

Word count: 2401

Content Warning: Slightly NSFW, spoilers for ACOSF and Azriel exclusive POV.

These past few weeks had been a new kind of hell for Azriel. Since Rhysand ordered him to stay away from Elain, his days have been immersed in darkness and his nights restless. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her smile had lightened up every room, her laugh his favourite sound and her smell his favorite aphrodisiac.

Part of him understood the reasoning behind Rhys command, but Rhysand had risked everything for Feyre. What he didn’t comprehend is why his own brother wouldn’t want to see him happy. Elain should be able to choose who she wants to be with, even if she never ends up choosing him. He knew he would always put Elain’s choice first even if it meant destroying himself.

In the past months he had realized the true depth of his feelings for the seer. Azriel had thought he would never stop loving Mor, but since Elain came into his life, he realized that he was deceiving himself. He was in love with the idea of love, not with Mor, at least where the last centuries were concerned. Deep down he knew he had loved her once, but Elain’s kindness had opened him to another kind of love, more pure and real, one that he never thought he would have or deserve.

The Cauldron had to be punishing him for all the sins he had committed, Azriel knew he wasn’t deserving of love. He had finally found the female he wanted to share his immortal life with, just so the Cauldron would choose another male for her.

Today was going to be especially hard for him as he wouldn’t be able to escape seeing her. He had tried to avoid her after the incident on the stairs, but today would be impossible not to be near her. Part of him needed to see her one more time, as he was a starving man and her sight would be the only thing that would satiate him. Feyre had asked his council on a matter regarding the human courts, and Nuala had confirmed Elain would be present during the meeting.

Surprisingly, when he arrived at the River House Elain was the only one there, no sign of their High Lord and Lady to be seen. She looked beautiful, her hair down, ruffled by the early spring breeze, face sun kissed probably after spending the morning tending her gardens under the sun. Azriel knew the moment she saw him, as her scent changed, he had to contain the groan that wanted to be released.

Elain felt more than saw the shadowsinger appear in the kitchen, her breath catching and her cheeks blushing. She couldn’t help it, she had been preparing herself for this encounter for days. It had been almost three months since the ill fated night, and he had been avoiding her. She still couldn’t believe how close she had been to kissing him, part of her was still furious at the interruption. The moment she had believed what Azriel had told her, that it had been a mistake. That’s why she returned the necklace, because the last time a male had gifted jewelry, he had called her a monster and rejected her love and she didn’t want to feel like that ever again, even if it broke her heart parting with that thoughtful gift. But now she knew it hadn’t been a mistake. Azriel had been forced to flee her side and to never approach her again. What made her furious was that it wasn’t caused by an enemy force; the cause of this had been her own brother-in-law. When she saw what had happened in one of her visions, she confronted Rhys.

She had had enough, she wasn’t a child to be coddled. Her life had been taken away from her since the moment she was forced into the Cauldron, her future forever changed. None of it with her consent, none hadn’t been her choice.

So she was mad at Rhysand as he was taking away her choice once again, by forcing Azriel to never follow that path with her. Even if it meant hurting them both. It seems like she would never be able to choose for herself, the Cauldron forming a bond with a male who didn’t understand her, that played a small part in her trauma and that he wasn’t HER choice. For the first time ever she made her voice heard, she wouldn’t be stifled again, not with this and not with anything else moving forward. She had had enough, she was the only one who would decide her own destiny. And she had chosen Azriel. She wouldn’t hide her feelings for the shadowsinger, she wouldn’t let Rhysand or anyone dictate her life, she wanted to love freely, her love wouldn’t be a forbidden union. She realized that in her new world people would tell her who she needed to be but she would have none of that, she would fight back and say no, this is who I am.

Her first step had been speaking with Rhys and telling him she would talk with Lucien, that’s when she found out she could actually break the bond. Knowing this felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She clarified that she wanted to break the bond. Not because of what had happened during the Solstice but because she needed to make her own destiny and the bond was a prison for both herself and Lucien. Feyre had been present for the last part of the conversation as her powers had gone out of control with all her emotions running wild. That’s how she managed to trick Azriel into coming to the River House, he thought he was meeting her sister. She had tricked him, but they needed to talk.

Her conversation with Lucien had gone better than she expected, it hadn’t been an easier one, but necessary nonetheless. After hours of talking, they had agreed that it was better if they broke the bond. She wasn’t surprised when Lucien had been a bit reluctant at first, as the mating is more instinctive for the male, but what had shocked her was that Lucien told her how he believed he was starting to develop feelings for Vassa. She teased him endlessly. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, morning came and they had still been deep into conversation, funny how the day they had finally broken the bond was the day they talked as friends, free at least from those invisible chains.

Azriel saw Elain’s shy smile appear and he couldn't help returning it. There was something different about her, her eyes were clear, she looked rested, and somehow free. Her distinctive smell had also been altered.

“Elain, I thought I was supposed to meet Feyre” he said while walking closer to her.

“I know, I asked her to fake the meeting so we could talk” he stopped walking, surprise appearing on his expression.

“Are you ok? Has something happened?” His facial expression turned murderous, if someone had hurted her, he was dead.

“No, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened that night” Elain's heart melted at his concern.

“Elain I…” Azriel started to say, part of him just wanted to tell her how he never thought she was a mistake, he wanted to make things right, but he was scared that it would hurt her more, as they couldn’t be together, he wasn’t deserving of love.

“Azriel I know what happened, I know it was Rhysand that stopped it” she interrupted him.

“What do you mean?” he knew he sounded stupid, but she took him by surprise.

“I know it wasn’t a mistake, '' Elain said while she closed their gap, her hands softly grabbing his “a few nights later I had a retrocognition. I saw everything that happened after Rhysand saw us. He had no right to stop what would have happened” she said while her hands brought his scarred ones to her lips. Azriel's voice cracked as he talked “I shouldn’t have said it was a mistake, Rhys or no Rhys you could never be a mistake Elain, you are everything that’s good” his hands moved to grasp her face, bringing his forehead to lay on hers. “I know that now, but I would be lying if I told you, you didn’t hurt me, it felt like Greysen all over again” Azriel heart broke, that was never his intention, he would kill himself before hurting her “I am so sorry, what can I do to fix it?” he needed to get things right, he would beg on his knees for her forgiveness. “Just kiss me and make me forget it ever happened” she murmured.

Azriel didn’t hesitate, he closed the gap and finally ley his lips on hers. The kiss was soft, innocent even, an apology and a promise all wrapped into one perfect gift. Elain’s arms wrapped around his neck, bringing them closer, her tongue graced his lower lip asking for permission, turning the soft kiss into an explosion of passion.

Azriel hands were everywhere, he needed to touch her, to prove this was real, that it was actually happening and he wasn’t in one of his dreams. Elain let out a moan when his hands graced her sides, getting closer to her aching breasts. “Elain as much as I love this we need to talk” he said trying to distance himself from her even though it pained him, but they needed to discuss what happened next, he still had orders and she was still mated.

“Fine” she said, not without giving him a quick kiss. She would be his death.

“What happened after you had your vision” he asked, his fingers running small circles on her arms.

“I told Rhysand that that would be the last time he would take away my choice for political reasons. All my life I’ve been an afterthought, I never had much choice, and when Hybern took me and I was forced into the Cauldron I was stripped of everything. Now that I was finally getting my voice back, Rhysand took it away from me once again, and I had enough. No one will tell me who I should love, not a High Lord and definitely not an ancient bond”

He now realized what the change in her smell meant, under the small hint of arousal, he smelled her and only her, no trace of the bond couldn’t be found. He almost fell to his knees begging for a chance to love her as she deserved to be loved. His kiss was bruising, the passion soaring, he wanted to convey everything that he was feeling on that kiss. Elain was giving him everything he thought he would never have, she was choosing him. For the first time in his life someone was willing to risk everything to be with him.

“Azriel” Elain said in between kisses, her melodic laugh appearing when he couldn't stop giving her small kisses around her neck, making her shiver. “All those moments we shared in our gardens, the small touches we were brave enough to have, made me realize that you are my choice, that even if the Cauldron didn’t tie us together, you are my mate, the one I choose. The one I love” she said while tears running down her beautiful face “don’t cry my rose, you have made me the happiest male, I love you more than words can convey, you are my everything Elain” he responded while lowering her on the soft grass, his hands tenderly caressing her face, collecting those happy tears.

Elain’s hands grabbed his hips, making him fall on top of her, straddling her hips. Azriel let out a groan at the friction this position bringed to his aching cock, her hands started untying his fighting leathers“ Are you sure Elain?, We have the rest of our lives for this” he said while giving small kisses where her neck met shoulder. “Yes I need to feel you, to feel our love in the most carnal of expressions ”

They made quick work of their clothes, Azriel started a trail of kisses, lowering himself between her legs. Elain’s hands wreaked havoc on his hair as he finally got his first taste of her, sweet, she was so sweet and wet. Her whimpers the only sound beside the birds chirping, his tongue creating an increasing crescendo of pleasure as he licked her soft folds, putting pressure on her clit making her even more wet. He was a starving male and Elain his only salvation. When she felt she was close to her climax, she pulled him off her “I want to fall with you inside me” she said, her eyes dark with lust. He kissed her, her mouth warm and soft, he bit back a groan as she took his cock and brought it to her entrance, the sensation overwhelming. They both moaned as he started moving. Slow at first, making her go crazy with desire, she needed to feel more “harder Azriel, I want to feel all of you, you won’t hurt me” she said while coaxing him with her hands on his back, his body went still, his entire world stopped at her soft cares on his wings. The groan he let out was feral, deepening his thrusts making them both moan louder. The sound of sink on sink and their encouraging sounds the sole symphony as they chased their climax. Azriel kissed her to stifle her moans, his hand touching her at the apex of her tights making her go over the cliff, Azriel joining her thrusts later when Elain found a sensitive place on his wings. Making him roar with pleasure.

Afterwards when they were both satiated Elain kissed him softly, her hands drawing small circles on his back. A sweet smile on both of their faces. Happiness, utter happiness ran through them as they rejoiced in their love making. They both knew this was a new beginning, their relationship barely starting, they had so much to learn and discover. War was starting once again and they would have to fight for it, this time would be different, the stakes higher as they would fight to get back to each other. But together they would overcome everything. Together they would fight as one.

[featherymalignancy]

The Tender Jar: An Elriel Experiment

                “Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness, and the infinite                                               tenderness shattered you like a jar”

                                         -Pablo Neruda

Wanted to try something new with these two’s dynamic, even if it pushes Elain a little out of her canon characterization. But listen y’all, it can’t all be shy glances and flower crowns. 

Synopsis: Six months after the war, Elain is still mourning all that the cauldron took from her, and it’s only Azriel she trusts not to judge her for her brokenness. However, when she has a vision concerning both Lucien and Graysen, she steals her courage and braves first the Spring Court and then the Mortal World, Azriel at her side. When lines are drawn and Elain is pushed to her emotional limit, she must decide whether she will let her past shatter her or give in to the desires of her tender heart.

Part I/XII 

See the Masterlist of Chapters Here

Rated M for language, violence, and sexual content.

   “Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness, and the infinite                                               tenderness shattered you like a jar”

                          -Pablo Neruda

Part One:

Elan sat, hidden, on the second story balcony of the townhouse’s palatial library, twisting Graysen’s ring around her slim finger and listening as Feyre’s inner circle discussed her like a problem to be solved. Like a taxing, overdue problem they had to solve.

It had been a long six months since the war ended, and though Feyre and the others might not see it, Elain was trying to get better. To be better. To be less—whatever it was she’d become after crawling out of that cauldron. What her sister didn’t seem to appreciate, despite her own struggles, was that Elain was facing different demons. Furthermore, she was a different person who coped with grief differently. Elan loved Feyre’s indomitable willingness to shred her skin and become someone else—someone better—when circumstance dictated it, but that wasn’t Elain. She could see the disappointment on her sister’s faces as month after month she failed to make drastic improvements in her health and mental state, but she was getting better. If she was a bolder person, she would have marched down there and told them so, screamed it into their faces until they were forced to listen. Instead, she remained in the belly of the nearest column’s shadow, twirling the ring and worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, furious and humiliated in equal measure.

“I’m worried,” Feyre said, idly running her hand through Rhysand’s hair as she sat perched on his lap in one of the wingback armchairs. “She’s not eating, and she’s still wearing that ring. I thought surely by now—and with Lucien…” she trailed off, and Elain’s grip on the ring tightened, even as she continued to twist the iron band around and around.

“Maybe we should set up a meeting with Graysen and his father,” Mor suggested. “You know, so she can—“

“So she can what?” Cassian interrupted, polished boots kicked up on the circular table at the centre of the room. “The man’s a prick, and she’s better off without him.”

Nesta, who sat on the chair opposite Rhys and Feyre, pursed her lips.

“I agree,” she said.

At this, Cassian grinned.

“Don’t agree with me, sweetheart. It makes me very uncomfortable.”

Nesta, who had changed in her own ways since the war, forewent her usual cutting reply, but Rhys gave his friend a hard look.

“Knock it off. This is serious.”

“What do you think, Az?” Feyre said. “You’re the only one she ever seems to open up to these days.”

At this, everyone turned to look at the Shadowsinger, who stood in the corner of the room with arms crossed. Of all the attendees, Elain couldn’t deny that his presence hurt the most. Feyre was right: of all of their inner circle, it was only Azriel who seemed to see Elain for who she really was. The only one who didn’t demand she contort her grief into something constructive.

Azriel shifted on his feet, wings rustling the bookcase behind him. His eyes, the color of a well-aged cognac, surveyed the group, and Elain bit down harder on her lower lip, willing him—despite his High Lady’s directive—to say nothing.

“I think,” he began. “That she is young, and impressionable, and that she’s been through a great deal in a short time. And that’s to say nothing of the burden she bears with the foresight or the situation with Vanserra.”

Cassian snorted.

“How elucidating, brother.”

“What are you suggesting we do, then?” Rhys said, ignoring Cassian. “Nothing?”

The shadows around Azriel deepened a shade, writhing over his feet by reaching no higher than his tall boots

“We give her space,” he said finally. “And we continue watching her to make sure she doesn’t lose the progress she’s made. It’s more than any of you give her credit for.”

Elain’s throat burned. It had been humiliating enough to listen to her sisters dissect her brokenness. To know that Azriel had been doing it too was almost too much to bear.

“You want to spy on her,” Nesta clarified, the steel she’d spared Cassian sliding, razor-sharp, into her tone. “Of course you do.”

“Peace, Nesta,” Feyre said, and where she once might have snarled back, Nesta only clenched her jaw.

Even she had lost faith in Elain, it seemed.

After a tense volley of eye-contact with Feyre, Nesta looked down at her lap, and Feyre turned to Cassian.

“What do you think?”

The mirth had bled from Cassian’s rugged features, and he studied the eldest Archeron sister before looking back to the youngest.

“I think you make a good point. She seems to like Az the best anyways. I don’t seem the harm in letting him keep and eye on her and possibly find out why she’s still wearing that sodding engagement ring.”

“So not just spy on her, then,” Nesta said, familiar barbarous tone returning. “Seduce her, too, if the circumstance warrants it.”

“C’mon, Nes, that’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“It’s not healthy to pine,” Azriel said quietly, and Elain’s eyes prickled with humiliated tears. Is that what he thought she was doing? Pining? She might have expected something that callous from Nesta, or even Feyre, but never him. “And with Vanserra coming back—we need to know what to expect.”

Elain felt the first of her tears skid down her slightly-hollowed cheek as no one objected.

“For the record,” Nesta said finally. “I don’t like this. And if you upset her, or lay even one filthy, unworthy hand on her, I will rip off your wings and make a dress out of their tanned hides.”

“Nesta!” Feyre squawked.

Azriel’s magnificent wings flexed behind him as he clenched and clenched said hands, hard enough for the scars on them to stand out, moon white, against his bronze skin. Elain wondered, despite her own humiliation, if Nesta had chosen that barb on purpose, knowing they were Azriel’s weakness. His eyes were indescribably cold, but beneath their chill lay an undercurrent of keen sorrow and shame.

However, Elain’s sympathy burned away and her tears began anew when the Shadowsinger merely gave Nesta a dismissive look and said, “don’t tell me how to handle your sister. I know her a lot better than you think, shrew.”

It was all Elain needed to hear. Not bothering to stay for Nesta’s snarled retort, she slipped from the balcony like the wraith she was, unable to hide her tears from the servants as she retreated out to the garden.

It was late Autumn, and the air held a portent of winter’s chill as it tugged as the skirt of Elain’s gown. She didn’t much care. Hating herself for proving them all right, she collapsed onto the stone bench near the back and began to sob.

She was ashamed. Ashamed that she couldn’t find a way to pick up the pieces of her broken life and make something new from it, like her sisters had. Ashamed that despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to take Graysen’s ring off, or read any of the dozens of letters Lucien had written her since he’d left for the Southern continent. Ashamed to learn that Azriel, whom she’d considered her friend, had been at her side all these months out of obligation to his High Lord and Lady. And ashamed to realise she was as she’d always feared: a burden to her family.

All of it roiled in her gut, mixing with the heady, ever-present buzz of the mating bond—which beat like a second pulse under her skin, and made her feel ill.

She wished so badly to be different, to have Feyre’s courage or Nesta’s fire, but when she looked inside, all she found was cowardice, yellow-bellied and soft.

She heard the sound of careful footfall from behind her, and she didn’t need to turn to know who it was. A moment later, his cool masculine scent—a mixture of balsam fir and eucalyptus—washed over her as he approached. It was a scent she realised she’d begun to think of as a safe harbour, and the thought only made her cry harder.

“Elain,” Azriel, murmured gently, kneeling at her feet and making a supplicating gesture. “What is it?"

“Go away!” she sobbed, shoving his hands back, which were as rough as his face and neck were smooth. “I don’t want to speak to you.”

He rocked back onto his heels, keen eyes assessing her even as shadows curled at his collar.

“You were in the library,” he surmised, and she only cried harder into her hands, feeling more ashamed than ever.

“I’m not stupid,” she choked quietly, finally mastering her tears, or perhaps simply just running out of any to cry.

“I know that. We all know that.”

“That’s not how you treat me. I know I’m broken, and possibly mad, but I—“

Azriel reached a tentative hand out to touch her shoulder, and it ignited a small kernel of rage in her belly. One that reminded Elain that despite everything, she was still Nesta Archeron’s sister.

“And you’re a hypocrite,” she leveled at him, voice trembling and weak as she rose to her feet and backed away from him. “If I am pining, what is it you are doing with Morrigan? At least Graysen has a good reason for not wanting me. ”

At Mor’s mention, Azriel stiffened, the light in his eyes going colder than moonlight. Some part of Elain was horrified by how true she’d struck, and how deep, but when she thought of the way he’d dissected her pain in front of the others, the apology welled shut in her throat.

Azriel offered no response to her abuse, only hung his head as shadows gathered more firmly around him. There had always been a quiet but tender warmth to him in her eyes, but as Elain watched him, breaths coming slow, she could feel the cold rage that his enemies so feared in him. What little petty courage she’d mustered to denigrate him withered, and she took off for her own room.

It was only hours later, when her tears had finally dried up and she lay awake, that her cruelty struck her. She had been many things in her life—weak, selfish, oblivious, cowardly—but she’d never been cruel. Especially not to someone who had been as kind to her, as indulgent of her brokenness, as Azriel had. Azriel, who had risked everything to rescue her from Hybern, and who had furnished her with the blade that avenged her father’s death. She was still angry with him for agreeing to Feyre’s interference in Elain’s life, but she didn’t have it in her heart to hold grudges, or to let an apology as necessary as this one go unsaid.

Rising, she put on a dressing gown over her nightclothes and tiptoed to the room on the third floor he often slept in, hoping as she ascended that he hadn’t returned to the House of Wind. An odd mix of relief and terror and guilt struck her as she approached the door and saw a dim light pouring out from beneath it.

Her hand shook as she raised it to knock, and a minute later it swung in. If Azriel was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it, though a spectre of agony crossed his face, disguised as a shadow from the fae lamp on his desk.

“Azriel,” she breathed, having to crane her neck to look up into his face, even with it tilted down to watch her. Though he was not as broad of shoulder or as thick of neck as Cassian, he still stood at nearly six and a half feet, and in slippers, she barely reached his collarbone. She looked down, studying the way said collarbone—covered in Illyrian ink—arced gracefully into his shirt. “I came to—“

“Don’t,” he said, voice distant. “You were right to be upset. And nothing you said was untrue.”

Her throat felt bone-dry, and a horrid buzzing started in her ears at the waves of shame rolling off of him even as the shadows did as well.

“But I—“ she began, determined to she explain that she’d merely been angry, and that she didn’t believe any of it, when a wave of true nausea hit her, along with a vision of a fox and a wolf racing away from a blazing inferno.

She felt herself go boneless as the vision took root in her mind, and she didn’t have time to even call out before she was collapsing the ground in a searing kaleidoscope of colour and sound.

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[acourtofthought]

I'm not loving the argument that because Lucien isn't doing more for Elain he couldn't possibly care for her while Azriel was willing to die for her which means his feelings are pure and true.

I don't dispute that Az cares for Elain but do you know who else he cares for? Who he's always willing to risk his life for everytime he goes into a dangerous situation?

Mor. Rhysand. Gwyn (when he saved her in the temple). Nesta. Cassian. Feyre. Literally anyone he considers good and in need of help.

Yes the Cauldron is dangerous. Yes, heading into the Kings Camp to save Elain was dangerous. But so is every other situation that Azriel puts himself in.

“I’m going in,” Azriel said.

“Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckles on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

Azriel said this after he saved Elain. After they all witnessed the Carver wiped out by the Cauldron. A truly immortal being, gone.

Azriel is a warrior, a protector. Again, I don't dispute that he's developed feelings for Elain however his rescuing her is not proof that his feelings have reached epic level love status. Nothing he has done is proof that he truly loves her.

Lucien claims Elain was "thrown at him" because Feyre had already told him she's in love with and engaged to another man. He's thinking this because the female he loved did not end up being his mate. The female that CHOSE him was not fated to be his. And this is within the very first moments of Lucien meeting Elain, when she was catatonic and ignoring him. When she hadn't even looked at him. Are we really going to use his thoughts before he even had a conversation with her against him?

If you've read TOG, Rowan told Aelin the world would have been better if she'd died. Let's not ignore the fact that SJM's couples are notorious for having rocky starts and that their beginnings are not proof of anything.

Let's also not act like Lucien would not be doing more for Elain if he received any sort of signal that she was receptive towards it. That he wouldn't also lay down his life is there was a scenario where hers was in danger and he was by her side. Lucien risked his life for Feyre while UTM, a female who was barely a friend at the time. He is respecting that Elain does not want more from him at the moment. He is giving her time and as much space as possible considering Feyre is still his friend and he works for the NC.

True Love is not selfish. True love means doing what is best for the other person even if it tears you up inside. I'm not even saying Lucien is truly in love with Elain considering they haven't had enough interactions for that to develop. But he's trying to be supportive of what she wants.

I don't know how you can look at Lucien's actions and not realize that everything he does IS with Elains best interests in mind.

Then claim that Azriel’s actions are proof of caring for her more. When he has never once said or thought anything proving that his feelings for Elain are real love. We were inside his mind and there was nothing backing up that those actions were born of deep emotions. Not one thought of how incredible Elain was, how kind, how brave, how thoughtful, how she made him laugh. Only that she's too "pure" to be touched by his hands. Elain is more than a pretty picture that someone doesn't want to get dirty.

I'm not saying that his feelings can't evolve into more but at this moment it does not sound like "True Love" is what he has for Elain. And that there's anything proving he cares more for her than Lucien. To me it seems like Az should be a lot further along with what he feels for Elain considering he's been given the time to get to know her. Considering she has had conversations and regular interactions with him before he started avoiding the River House. I would have thought that after over a year of engaging with her he would have more thoughts in his mind as to who she is as a person instead of just fantasies that have gone no further than sexual and worrying that she can't handle his darkness.