#elain Archeron

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑬𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏

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

Content: Angst, with the promise of future fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I ask Azriel?” she inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were leaving the day after?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t know. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She couldn’t let it happen again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nikethestatue]

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

Pretty random.

Or is it?

[shadowedpetals]

Today's highlight 🌸🦇

[ater-love]

Seeking, yearning, reaching hands

Literally Elriel

seeking, yearning, reaching hands

[ater-love]

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

ACOSF, chapter 17

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

ACOSF, chapter 22

[kvsoin]

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

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

[shadowsingers-mate]

In the Fire's Embrace (Elucien Fic)

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

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

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

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

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

Not for himself.

For her.

Elain.

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

And then—she froze.

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

Terror slashed through him.

He ran.

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

Because Elain was not moving.

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

Lucien’s roar tore through the battlefield.

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

She did not react.

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

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

A vision.

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

And she was defenseless.

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

Lucien moved.

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

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

She did not respond.

Lucien braced his legs and fought.

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

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

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

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

She did not so much as flinch.

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

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

"Elain." His voice was raw, desperate.

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

Never.

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

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

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

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

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

She did not respond.

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

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

A gasp.

Her entire body jerked.

Lucien’s heart nearly stopped.

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

And then—her voice. Small, shaking.

"Lucien?"

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

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

Her entire body trembled against him.

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

But there was no time.

The battle was not over.

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

His free hand lifted his sword once more.

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

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

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

And he fought.

[lovemyromance]

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

Babes... these are ALL canon Elriel moments.

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

Has Gwyn.... touched Truthteller? No.

Has Gwyn ... worn the necklace? No.

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

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

[sadiegirl2021]

Elain needs sunshine and Gwyn doesn't feel the cold.

Lucien being the sun personified and Azriel being constantly described as cold.

SJM isn't leaving breadcrumbs, they're loaves of bread!

[nikethestatue]

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

Because I am.

[shadowedpetals]

Two bodies, one soul 🌸🦇

DEATH AND THE FAWN (Azriel + Elain)

“you are to stay away from her.”

“you can’t order me to do that.”

[starsreminisce]

After Lucien decides he needs to redeem himself after the croissant fiasco, Elain realizes his warm hands could be put to good use kneading brioche. The moment she suggests it, Lucien jumps at the chance.

Elain tries to ignore how he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, how his large hands spread butter across the dough before dimpling it in, how his forearms flex as he kneads. She tries not to focus on the heat rising to her cheeks.

She clears her throat and asks if the oven is on.

Lucien, brow furrowed in concentration, shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says, continuing to knead before glancing up at her. He asks, “Like this, or should I knead it harder? Slower?”

Elain is flustered.

She barely murmurs, “Harder,” and he grunts, pressing into the dough with more force.

By then, she is completely transfixed by how he handles it until he spanks the dough. Her head snaps up to find him watching her with a satisfied smirk.

[elriel-month]

3 Months! 🌸🦇

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

Find prompts and descriptions here!

🎨: trxxvon_ | Comm: @leiaamidala

[greenleaf777]

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

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

Heres Elain in pink for everyone to fawn over

Art by muffin_art_m

Comm by mee

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

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Elain: Do you want this handful of moss?

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

Elain: You could have just said no.