#elain is not a thing to be pushed around and be married off

[androidsvsvikings]

was thinking about ACOTAR and really into the idea of Elain struggling with the forced mating bond, so I ventured into the eluc*en tag to maybe get some slow burn or hurt/comfort or just cute stuff, but instead of art or fics the only thing I found was an unhealthy amount of copium regarding elr*el and bashing of every single other character in the series. imma go back to shipping azriel/elain, nvm.

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 15

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Penultimate chapter! Bashing of like...every IC member, though we have now reached the point where Rhys and Cassian are the good guys, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

She overheard Rhys and Cassian. 

Feyre didn’t mean to eavesdrop…actually she just meant to tell her mate goodbye, as Nesta, Elain and her were meeting for tea at one of the many teahouses dotted around Velaris. 

It was weird…the more they did realise how badly they had fucked up with Zahra…the more the three of them tried to at least keep close with each other. 

Feye’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she heard Rhys and Cassian’s conversation.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the two of them were being rather…loud.

She heard Cassian’s voice first, his tone animated as he spoke. “You can’t be serious,” he exclaimed.

Curiosity piqued, Feye leaned in closer, her ears straining. 

Rhys’s voice came in next, his tone serious but filled with a hint of amusement. “I assure you, I am quite serious.”

Feyre could practically picture the smirk on his face as he spoke.

“They got married?! And didn’t bother telling us?!?” Cassian’s exclamation nearly made Feyre jump. The shock in his voice was palpable.

Married? Who got married?

No. No. No, no… had Zahra…and Azriel… had her sister…had they?

She got the answer seconds later. 

"Yes,” Rhys answered simply, amusement threading through the word. “Azriel and Zahra came home a few days ago, all filled with newly-wed bliss.”

And Feyre was done.

This wasn’t funny. None of this was.

Ignoring the conversation still going on between her mate and Cassian, Feyre stalked out of the River House, her footsteps heavy on the cobblestones. Her heart raced as she tried in vain to control the tempest of emotions within her chest. 

She was supposed to meet Nesta and Elain for an afternoon of shopping...they were supposed to try and get their mind of the fact that Azriel had pretty much kidnapped their fucking sister and now this.

As Feyre neared the small shop, her and her sisters had arranged to meet up, she paused to take a deep, steadying breath.

Her emotions were still roiling inside her, a mix of anger, confusion, and frustration. She couldn’t even really put it into words why…why this upset her so much. She pushed open the door to the shop. Her sisters were waiting for her, their faces brightening as they spotted her. “Hey Feyre,” Nesta greeted, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in her sister's expression.

"Azriel and Zahra got married," she blurted out.

Elain and Nesta gasped almost simultaneously, their eyes widening in surprise.

"What?," Elain exclaimed, her mouth agape.

Nesta looked like she'd been slapped, her eyes narrowing slightly. "When?" she demanded, her voice low.

“A few days ago, I overheard Rhys and Cassian," Feyre answered weakly.

Nesta's expression darkened, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Damn him," she muttered, her lips curling. "I’m gonna rip his balls off.”

Feyre struggled to maintain her composure. She could feel her own anger simmering beneath the surface, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of Azriel and Zahra’s sudden marriage or the fact that no one had told her beforehand.

She couldn’t help but feel betrayed…couldn’t help but… 

"It's just...it's so unlike Zahra to just...run off and do something like this," Elain murmured after a moment of silence. Nesta’s eyes flashed. "And Azriel. Why didn't we know?."

"Maybe because he knows we would’ve tried to stop them," Feyre said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I just…aren’t they going at it way too fast?” she said weakly.  

“They barely know each other. Who knows what Zahra’s actually getting herself into?” Nesta agreed back.

“She didn’t even bother telling us,” Elain whispered.

"Well, why should she?” Feyre said weakly. "She's an adult. She doesn't answer to us."

Nesta’s expression hardened. "We’re her family," she insisted. "We have a right to know." “Are they still in Rosehall?” Nesta asked.

“No, they came home a few days ago,” she answered absentmindedly and then came up short. 

Wait, what?

They came home. Home to Velaris. Which meant that their sister was…

She jumped up, Nesta and Elain scrambling after her, as she strode towards Zahra’s house. 

The last time she had seen the cottage…it had been clean but downtrodden. Now though…Now though it seemingly sparkled. 

Feyre's breath hitched in her throat as she took in the sight of the house.

It looked…good.

Better than good. The walls that had been patched up before, now gleamed with fresh paint, the windows gleaming with their new panes of glass.

The house looked like a home. There were little bits and pieces dotted around the outside, like the rocking chair on the proch and the windchimes hanging from the overhang…Thoughtful little touches that hadn’t been there before. 

“Is this where Zahra lives?” Elain asked. ”It’s a bit small, isn’t it?” she wondered but Feyre was already walking up the steps of the porch, her sisters trailing behind her. 

Her heart was in her throat as she approached the front door.

When she reached the front door, she knocked. It took only a moment, but then the door swung open. Standing in the doorway was Azriel. Looking absolutely furious. 

His face was set in a fierce scowl, his jaw clenched. His eyes flashed as his gaze flicked from Feyre, to Nesta, to Elain. "What are you doing here?," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“What do you think?,” Feyre snapped back. She could feel her own anger rising to match Azriel's, her skin prickling. "We came to see Zahra.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Azriel said sharply.

Feyre bristled at his words. "She’s our sister."

Azriel's gaze darkened. "She's also my wife,” he snapped. “And she doesn’t want to see you,” he repeated. 

"How do you know?," Feyre shot back, her hands balling into fists. "Did you ask her?"

Azriel let out a humorless laugh. "I know her quite well," he ground out. "I’d like to think I have a pretty good idea of what makes her happy.”

“You are locking her up!” Feyre snapped sharply. Azriel was locking Zahra up. He was keeping her away from everybody.  “And you are keeping her away from people that care about her, and you think that will make her happy?!”

Azriel reared back like she had slapped him and his expression darkened even further, his eyes blazing with anger.

"How dare you?," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I would never keep Zahra captive.I would never do that,“ he whispered.

“Let them in,” came Zahra’s voice suddenly behind him.

Feyre’s head snapped up to see her sister. She looked…well. Non the worse for wear at least. She was dressed in a comfortable woolen dress, with the sleeves pushed up. 

Azriel’s face twisted as Zahra stepped up beside him, her eyes dark. “Let them in, Azriel,” she said softly, her hand coming to rest on her mate’s arm. Azriel’s gaze flicked to Zahra, his eyes softening for a moment.

Then, with a huff of irritation, he stepped back from the door, gesturing for Feyre and her sisters to enter the house.

***

Zahra should have known that their peace wasn’t going to last.

Zahra had hoped for a peaceful day with her daughter and Azriel, but those hopes were dashed by midday.

Azalea was sleeping in the bedroom, stretched out all over the big bed, because their daughter didn’t really seem to enjoy the crib at all. (And quite frankly, neither Zahra or Azriel had it in themselves to insists that she sleep all alone, when they could just let her sleep in the big bed with them and Azalea would snuggle up to them.) 

A couple of shadows had self appointed them as Azalea’s babysitters and would alert Azriel and Zahra whenever she woke… or as much as twitched. 

Right now, Zahra was in the kitchen cooking, trying to make these spicy meatballs Esmeray had showed her how to make and Azriel, was keeping her company while catching up on paperwork. Azriel's hand had stilled on the page he was writing, his eyes distant.

Zahra noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, setting down the bowl of meatballs she had been forming.

“Az?,” she questioned quietly. Concern laced her words. Azriel didn’t respond, his focus firmly fixed on some point in the distance.

"Your sisters are coming," he said, his voice flat.

Zahra felt her heart seize. How did they …she bit back a curse. “You’re certain?,” she asked warily, though she already knew the answer to that. Azriel’s lips pressed together, forming a thin line of displeasure. 

Right.

Zahra couldn't just ignore them for the rest of her life. Even when she wanted to.

Or maybe she didn't want to ignore them for the rest of her life, But she also wasn't particularly looking forward to talking to them about what had happened to her.

"Do you want to talk to them?" Azriel asked her. He was giving her the choice. Respecting any decision she would make.

"I don't but I will," Zahra gave back flatly.

Azriel’s stoic demeanor didn’t waver, but his hazel eyes were filled with understanding. “You don’t have to,” he told her quietly, his voice gruff.

“I know,” Zahra said with a sigh. “But they’ll never leave me alone until I do talk to them.” She was certain of that. 

“You don’t owe them anything,” Azriel told her sharply. Zahra glanced at him, feeling a small measure of joy at Azriel’s defense. Her hand found his, a silent thanks for his support. His grip was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to his hardened expression. 

“Maybe not. But they’ll keep coming. If I don’t talk to them now, they’ll just come back later.” She sighed. She hated how right her words sounded.

“If you don’t want to deal with them, I’ll do it,” Azriel told her.

Zahra raised her eyebrows, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. “And what would you say? ‘Get lost’?” she suggested drily. 

Azriel’s face turned serious, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak. “If necessary,” he said seriously.

Zahra chuckled despite the situation, the sound almost a bark.

The knock at the door sounded in that moment. Startled, Zahra exchanged glances with Azriel.

It could only be the sisters.

Azriel let out a heavy sigh, rising from his chair and stalking towards the door. Zahra watched him go, her heart thudding in her chest.

She could see how furious he was in every fibre of his being.

His voice was harsh as he opened the door, the words sounding like a growl.  "What are you doing here?"

She could feel the protectiveness pour all over their fledgling bond. Zahra could feel how furious he was on her behalf.

And there was also that little inkling of fear that was rearing it's ugly little head. She didn't truly want to see her sisters. She didn't want to talk about what happened to her. She had been willing to take that particular secret to the grave. 

And now there it was, out there to be gawked at, to be used to pass judgement at her.

“What do you think?” Feyre's voice was equally harsh.  "We came to see Zahra.”

Zahra watched Azriel, her heart thundering in her chest. It seemed like Feyre’s words had struck a chord with him, the anger rolling off him in waves. She could feel his rage through their fledgling bond, a fiery storm of protectiveness that coursed through them like a cyclone.

“She doesn't want to see you,” Azriel responded, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"She’s our sister," Feyre responded, and Zahra's teeth clenched against themselves. Was she really? Was she really their sister?

Zahra watched, her breath caught in her throat, as Azriel bristled at Feyre’s words.

“She’s also my wife,” Azriel told her coldly, his eyes blazing.

He stood like a wall in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, his shadows circling him like a cloak.

They had never treated her like she was. They had never...never truly accepted her as one of their own. Feyre had…for a time… but then Feyre had been probably too young to understand everything that had gone on...Nesta hated her. And Elain...Elain was embarrassed by her existence.

Zahra's hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Azriel’s words struck a chord deep within her.

She had been treated by her sisters…as a nuisance. An inconvenience.

Nesta had never hidden her animosity, her eyes burning with resentment whenever she so much as glanced in Zahra’s direction.

And Elain had hidden her embarrassment behind a veneer of sweet innocence, but Zahra had always seen through it.

“And she doesn’t want to see you," Azriel said at that moment, his words harsh but truthful.

"How do you know?," Feyre demanded. "Did you ask her?"

Zahra’s heart skipped a beat, her head snapping to Azriel as if to confirm what she had just heard. His jaw was clenched, his anger evident.

Her stomach churned as she heard her sisters speak. She could already see the situation deteriorating, the tension building.

 "I know her quite well,"Azriel said through gritted teeth. "I’d like to think I have a pretty good idea of what makes her happy.”

“You are locking her up!” Feyre snapped at that moment!  “And you are keeping her away from people that care about her, and you think that will make her happy?!”

What?!

But Zahra didn't really hear that. All her attention was on Azriel...on Azriel who had flinched at the barbed words shot his way.

And the anger built in Zahra's chest.

He had never locked her up. He had done everything in his power to give her choices, to give her agency...to make her feel like she was in control. He had done nothing to lock her away.

Zahra could see the anger flare in Azriel's eyes at Feyre's words. She could feel the tension radiating from him.

And then...then she saw him flinch. A small movement, so fast she almost missed it.

But she saw it.

Her heart swelled with anger, a red-hot fire burning within her. How dare they?

How dare they think that he had mistreated her?

And she could feel how even just the insinuation of this...how much this was hurting her mate, her husband. "How dare you?," Azriel whispered "I would never keep Zahra captive. I would never do that,“ he whispered. She could hear the desperation in his voice. She could hear how hurt he was.

And she was done.

"Let them in," Zahra said icily, crossing the room to stand next to him, facing her sisters. “Let them in, Azriel,” she said evenly, her hand coming to rest on her mate’s arm. Azriel stared at her, and she pushed all the love, all the adoration she had for him onto him at that moment.

He huffed but he stepped back from the door.

Zahra felt a wave of gratitude for Azriel wash over her. She wanted to thank him for defending her, for standing up for her...but she knew he would shrug it off. Still. She would tell him. 

Her gaze sharpened as she regarded her sisters. “Come in,” Zahra said coolly, stepping back to allow Feyre, Elain and Nesta to enter.

Zahra watched, her expression stony, as her sisters walked into the kitchen. Elain’s eyes darted around the room curiously, while Feyre’s gaze lingered on Azriel, who had taken up a stance near the door.

Nesta met her eyes with a defiant glare, her chin held high. Zahra gave a silent sigh. Of course Nesta would be the most difficult.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly, crossing her arms.

"What we want?" Feyre echoed weakly. "Zahra, we..." she trailed off, searching for words.

But Zahra was done. "What do you think gives you the right to show up here? To berate my husband like that?" she snapped. "Azriel has done nothing but protect me, to shelter me. What gives you the right to talk to him like that?!" she demanded

"I...I don't want you to be in a...situation like me," Feyre said weakly. "Zahra, we didn't even know the two of you were friendly and now you...you married him!" 

"I am an adult. I can manage my private life how I see fit," Zahra shot back, her voice icy. “He’s my mate. Besides, it's not like you actually cared about it before.”

"That's not true," Feyre protested.

Zahra just rolled her eyes. "Look, I get it," she said drily. "You feel bad because you found out that I wasn't a homewrecker with loose morals after all," she told Nesta drily. "But you hate me, so for you to show up here and berate my husband about keeping me locked up is ridiculous," she spat out. "And you, Elain...you have made it very clear what I meant to you when you invited Feyre and Nesta to our father's grave but not me." She had no idea where this was even coming from. But decades of pent up frustration was bubbling to the surface. “And Feyre…we all know which sisters you prefer to spend time with, so what are you even doing here?”

Zahra was fuming. Her heart was pounding furiously beneath her ribcage, her hands balled up into fists by her sides as she confronted her sisters.

But a small part of her was satisfied. Seeing them flounder, seeing them realize how wrong they had been. It was almost cathartic. She could feel Azriel's eyes on her, and she glanced at him, taking in his stoic expression. For a brief moment, she wondered what he was thinking, but she didn't have time to dwell on it as she turned back to her sisters.

"I did not choose to be born a bastard," she spat out. "I did not choose for our father to betray your mother with my own. I did not choose to be an embarrassment that needs to be hidden away from your suitors. I did not choose any of it. And believe me if I could chose, I would have chosen to grow up somewhere else." Zahra was on a roll now, the truth pouring out of her like a torrent. She could see the shock in her sisters' eyes, the realization of how they had treated her sinking in. But she wasn't done. She still had more to say, more to get off her chest.

"But I couldn't choose. Instead, I was stuck in that house with you three. Being a constant reminder of your father's affair. Being the outcast, the embarrassment." Zahra's voice cracked slightly, the pain and hurt from all those years coming to the surface.

She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"I endured it all. The looks, the whispers. I endured being the bastard, the one no one wanted. But I survived. And now..." Zahra's voice trembled. "And now I'm married to the male of my choice. A male who accepts me, protects me, and loves me." Zahra's gaze darted to Azriel briefly, the depth of her affection for him apparent in her eyes. "And you three want to take that away from me? You want to come here and accuse Azriel, one of the best, most caring, protective and noble men I have ever had the pleasure to meet...you want to accuse him of mistreating me?" Zahra's eyes flamed with indignation.

She took a step forward, her eyes blazing. "No. I won't let you. Azriel has given me more freedom, more support, and more love than I have ever known. And I will not let you come into our home, into our life, and slander him with your false judgment!"

Tears glimmered in Zahra's eyes, but she held her sisters' gaze, her determination unwavering.

There was a long silence. Her sisters were stunned, their faces pale. Zahra felt the weight of her words hang in the air, the raw emotion still pulsing through her veins. Azriel's gaze was heavy on her, his presence a steady anchor in the midst of the emotional storm she had unleashed.

And only then, she realised that golden glow that was covering her...like a thin film, clinging to her skin.

Zahra felt a shiver course down her spine as she realized what was happening. The power, the ancient magic that had lain dormant within her for so long, was stirring once again.

It seemed that her emotional outburst had provoked it, and now it was reacting, awakening in response to her strong feelings.

Zahra's hands trembled as she looked down at them, the golden aura visible as it enveloped her.

The glow seemed to pulse with each beat of her heart, responding to her emotions. With great effort, Zahra calmed herself, taking deep breaths to quell the anger that had initially sparked this power. Soon, the aura flickered and faded, once again sinking back beneath her skin.

Zahra looked up to find her sisters watching her, their eyes wide with shock and fear. The weight of their stares was almost crushing.

"So I ask again, what do you want?" she asked, her voice icy.

Zahra could see her sisters exchange quick glances, their faces still shocked. None of them had anticipated this turn of events.

"I am sorry," Elain blurted out suddenly. "I didn't know."

Zahra blinked, surprised that Elain of all her sisters was apologizing.

"And what could you possibly have not known?" Zahra asked, her voice still hard. The anger hadn't completely left her yet.

"I...I didn't know that you...that...that affair wasn't..."

"It wasn't an affair at all!" Azriel snapped at that moment. Zahra looked over to Azriel. His hands were clenched into fists, his eyes narrowed in anger.

It was clear that he was furious. And Zahra couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him in that moment.

But she also knew that an outburst from him would not help the situation. She looked back to her sisters, her eyes searching their faces. She could see the shock and confusion there, the dawning realization of how wrong they were.

“It’s wasn’t an affair, It was an arragement,” she corrected her sister drily. 

"How can you call it that?" Feyre breathed out.

Zahra shrugged. "Because that's what it was," she gave back, her voice harsh. "I let myself be raped. I allowed it to happen. I let him do whatever he wanted to me and in return, we didn't starve."

Zahra's words hung heavy in the air. The truth, laid out bare and stark. She could see the horror and shock on her sisters' faces, the disbelief in their eyes.

It was a truth Zahra had never spoken out loud, never allowed herself to fully acknowledge. But now, in this moment, she felt strangely calm. As if saying the words, finally giving voice to her pain, was a release.

"I endured it because I had to," Zahra continued with a bitter laugh. "You all have no idea what I went through. You never bothered to ask. And I didn’t tell you. I hid away all the evidence of what he did to me, all the wounds and the bruises and the pain. And you were too busy burying your heads in the sand, too busy pretending I didn't exist."

Zahra's voice trembled slightly, but she pressed on. "But now, for the first time in my life, I have some resemblance of happiness. I have a mate who cares for me, protects me. I have a daughter I love. And you..." Zahra's eyes burned as she looked at her sisters. "You want to take that away from me?!"

"You have a daughter?!?" Nesta blurted out, staring at her. 

"Yes," Zahra said, her voice cold, "a daughter. A beautiful, wonderful daughter. Azriel accepted me, married me, even though he knew my secret. Even though he knew and he never judged me for it or scorned me…He gave me a family, a home. And I will not let you take that away from me."

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 17: The Sovereign, the Slayer, and the Seer.

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel and Nyra are sweet. Also, Nyra wields her power in different ways.

Author's message: This is the last chapter before a time skip where I'm going to speed up things by inserting all the fluff and the smut I wrote in the office, the public transport, and everywhere I got carried away.

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 6.8k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra remembered the day she poisoned her mother for the first time. 

It hurt every time her mother slashed her palm, seeing Nesta being moulded into something else, seeing Elain and Feyre walking on eggshells every day. 

Their mother had plans for them—Nyra to be poisoned, Nesta married to an old duke, Elain and Feyre sent to a horrible aunt. It was too much. Everyone was at risk. And their father was as unreliable and absent as ever. 

There was also the story of left-handed women in the Archeron family. Long before the partition of the lands between the fae and humans, their ancestors had resided in a land of snow, the proof of which lived on in their blue eyes. 

One ancestor had been summoned by a fae who prophesied about a left-handed female born into the family with a fate woven in darkness. To prevent that, the fae suggested forcing the left-handed ones to ‘become’ right-handed. 

That led to the cruel practice of slashing the left palms of left-handed girls, to force them to use their right hand. Failure to do so before puberty resulted in poisoning to death. No left-handed girl in the family survived.

Her mother had started slashing her palm every three to four weeks somewhere around the age of five and had started poisoning her by the age of twelve, nearing puberty. Death awaited her but that was merciful compared to the life her sisters would’ve lived.

So she did it. 

She poisoned her mother, passed it off as an illness, and the horrible woman finally passed away. 

Back then, Nyra had been poisoned enough for an aftermath that would last her entire life as an incurable illness. 

Then came the Cauldron. And then she’d died. Really died. 

Yes. It was a very painful affair. As if she was being ripped from. . . something.

Nyra was the only one who did not remember the kidnapping or how she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. Her only vague memory was about being drenched, walking, laying down, and a blue light before everything turned black. 

Her left hand had begun trembling and her scar reminded her of Azriel’s hands. 

“My half brothers were not pleased with the existence of a bastard. They wanted to test if their father’s illegitimate progeny had enough healing prowess so. . . they. .” 

Azriel hesitated to continue. Nyra hummed, looking at the night sky. She laid her head against his arm and continued to not look at him even though she felt his gaze on her. 

“What do you think of it?” Nyra straightened herself and looked at him, caught unaware by his question. He seemed expectant and nervous. 

“I don’t have the right to have an opinion, Az.”  She answered softly.

“I am a bastard.” 

“And?”

“My hands are like this.”

“And?” 

“Surely you must think something about it.”

Nyra looked at the night sky. “Why do you sound like you’re trying to push me away?” 

She now turned to him fully, angling her body accordingly. “It’s like you’re asking me to- I don’t know. What are you trying to do? Stop me from wanting to be your friend?” 

Azriel had nothing to say. He looked down at his scarred hands like an admonished child. 

“I’m not- I don’t even know what to say. Just. . Ugh!” That was the first time Nyra had ever let herself make a sound like that. Let herself not be ladylike as her mother had demanded. “Do you hate me or something?” 

“I don’t hate you.” He immediately spoke, sounding panicked. 

“I think you’re brave.” She whispered. “I also think that if your half brothers were alive, I might’ve struck them with lightning. Or poisoned them.” 

“Murder is a crime.” Azriel tried to joke. She found him so adorable. 

“Nobody can tell if I summoned the lightning or if it was actually a natural disaster.” She drawled with a smile.

“I can.” Azriel was now amused. 

“I’d like to think that if I were murdering someone, you’d wait with a shovel to hide the body.”  

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. “I think I might just hand you the Truth Teller for your murder.”

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your pretty knife, Az.” 

“That pretty knife has drawn much blood.” 

“It’s too late for me.” Her words might have sounded out of context but the way Azriel’s features morphed into surprise, she knew he’d understood. 

“You. . .” He was looking at her again, lips parted. 

“What?” She laughed.

“I didn’t. . . I. .”

“I suppose it’s baffling.” 

“Consider me baffled.” He exhaled and looked straight ahead. “Wow. That’s. . .”

“Scary?”

“Surprising, baffling, mind blowing, yes. Scary, no.” 

“Would be the shock of anyone’s life if a woman like me scared the Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Azriel immediately looked at her, his gaze shaking her soul. “You’re a myriad of mysteries, Nyra Archeron, and I may be too curious for my own good.” 

She looked away with a smile, closing her eyes. 

“How about we exchange secrets?” Azriel’s proposal was tempting. Feeding her desire to know the elusive Spymaster. 

“Go on.”

“I was twelve when I first killed.” 

And Nyra grinned brightly at that. “Same!” 

It was strange to be talking and bonding over such topics but Azriel looked at her and grinned back. And under the night sky with a crescent moon hanging over them, they’d confessed everything about their first kill. 

By the end of that conversation, Azriel had an arm around Nyra’s shoulder and she was leaning against him. 

“I feel light.” He spoke softly. And she knew she felt the same. Years of bottling things up and she was finally unravelled. 

“I want to tell Feyre and Elain.” About how she’d killed their mother.

“Feeling ready?”

“I feel light.” She repeated his words and looked at him. If life was a little better, kinder, maybe they would’ve kissed. But this was the best of reality and this moment would continue to live in her memory. 

He squeezed her arm and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and reality became infinitely more beautiful. 

Nyra smiled. 

The timing was bad. 

War was inevitable. The king wanted the Archeron sisters. Everyone was preparing. Nyra was learning to control her powers and access more information from her archives but. . . She was so attracted to Azriel. 

In her defence, Azriel should not be so. . . perfect. 

He was kind and so sweet to her. Always so patient and made time for her. Such a wonderful soul. So reliable. 

And he had a great face. That was just. . . Nyra clutched her sheets and turned over to the other side. And she turned again. 

She would’ve liked to complain because how was his every movement so sensual? And why did he spar shirtless? 

Nyra continued yawning but she couldn’t sleep. The first light of dawn peeked in from the corners of the curtains. 

Frustrated, she grabbed a robe and stepped out, walking through the dimly lit corridor. She reached the staircase and since she’d never been upstairs, she ascended. A door was ajar and she could see the lavender sky before the sun truly appeared for the day. 

As she neared it, the light of the dawn was covered by the glaring darkness. Dark swirls wafted over to her and stopped in front of her. 

She lifted a hand as she always did and welcomed the shadows to play with her. They perched themselves on her head and shoulders and crawled along the skirts and sleeves of her robe and finally played with her fingers and cheeks. Their cool touch made her sleepier. 

The call of her name jolted her from her haze. Feyre was standing by the door. 

“Hello.” She sounded so tired and sleepy and soft. Feyre took her hand and took her with her. The terrace of the House of Wind was in fact an open space and Cassian was yelling and Nyra nearly stumbled only for the shadows to catch her waist. 

“Careful.” Feyre warned, immediately at her side now that she’d realised her sleepy sister might need more assistance if she were to reach anywhere safely. 

The shadows were cool and so gentle and their wispy sounds were lulling her to sleep so nicely. Feyre helped her lean against a wall somewhere and Nyra no longer felt her hand. 

She enjoyed the sensation of the shadows massaging her head and shoulders and hands. And she was so sleepy she could simply fall and not care where she fell. 

“Nyra!” The loud voice jolted her from her haze. Was that Cassian?

“You woke her up, idiot.” Another voice came, low and deep and she could fall in that voice and sleep there. 

“Overprotective bastard.” A male laugh followed that comment. 

Footsteps and more voices and she forced herself to open her eyes. Her vision took their time to clear up and finally revealed three shirtless Illyrians to her. Nyra blinked and then frowned. 

“Won’t you catch a cold?” She meant to sound stern but she sounded too soft. A yawn escaped her. 

“I’ll be fine. Feyre darling is here to warm me up.” Rhysand sounded like he was eagerly waiting for that.

“And Cassian and Azriel will warm each other up?” She asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“You’re welcome to join us, Nyra.” Cassian grinned and she couldn’t help her smile at the early morning teasing. 

“I’d like to sleep.”

“You’d be missing out.” Cassian teased again and received another yawn as a reply. 

“Wouldn’t you rather have Azriel all to yourself?” Nyra smiled softly. She looked at Azriel and frowned. “Where are your shadows?”

The shadowsinger smiled at her. “With you.” 

And as if they wanted to remind her, one of the tendrils tugged at her fingers. She looked down at her hand and found shadows on her hands and the length of her robe. 

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Azriel asked. He sounded kind and his intentions were kind and her stupid self didn’t even bother registering that because his voice was far too sensual to her ears and it made her shiver. 

“You’re cold.” Azriel noted. And when her eyes cooperated with her, she found herself in front of a very sweaty, shirtless Azriel whose chest glowed in the early light of dawn. She blinked, took a step back, and lost her balance. 

Azriel had moved faster than she could comprehend and had caught her but sleep was betraying her for the second time that morning by abandoning her when she needed it the most. 

Because how was anyone supposed to see a shirtless Azriel in close proximity and remain standing? Nyra did not know how so she frowned. 

“I’m not cold.” She mumbled as the shadowsinger helped her stand straight. Her cheeks were warming up.

“And sleepy.” He helped her stand straight. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” Azriel placed his arms behind her back and legs and lifted her.

“I was not sleepy earlier when I left my room.” She mumbled, her head laying against his chest. His heartbeat was a beautiful sound. It was speeding up. “Your heartbeat is fast.” 

“I’ve been training awhile now, Nyra.” He made her name sound nicer than it usually was. Made her feel cherished with the way he called her name. 

And she wanted to do that for him. She wanted to love him. To cherish him. 

And she felt herself smile. 

This was. . . freeing.

Was this how it was?

To have a heart without inhibitions or doubts? 

How easy was it to see his face and forget everything else?

“Hm.” She turned her head towards his chest. “You smell nice.”

“I’m sweaty.” He had begun descending the stairs. She could feel it in the way he moved with her in his arms.

“Still nice.” And she found that comfortable space. With the shadows caressing her and Azriel’s warmth and the sound of his heartbeat, she floated away into the cosy dark. 

The realisation that her heart was leaving her to be somebody else’s affected her in a way she did not quite understand. But it was Azriel. . .

Nyra turned to the other side and slept soundly.

****

“What?” Feyre asked, amused by Cassian glancing at her for the third time. She had just entered wearing that starlit gown.

“You just look so. . .” 

“Here we go.” Mor muttered from beside Nyra. 

“Official.” Cassian looked at Mor incredulously. “Fancy.” 

Nyra snorted and Cassian scowled at her. Azriel chuckled from the front door as he entered. His besotted shadows were already floating towards Nyra. 

“Over five hundred years old. A skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you to diplomatic meetings?” Mor shook her head, feigning disappointment.

When the shadowsinger laughed again, Cassian glared at him. “I don’t see you resorting to poetry, brother.”

Azriel crossed his arms, smiling faintly at the sight of Nyra and his shadows. “I don’t need to resort to it.” 

Nyra looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Really?”

Azriel stared at her, wide eyed at having been caught off guard. He looked away as his cheeks warmed while the greedy little shadows tugged at her fingers, demanding her attention again. And while she fondly played with them, Rhys had appeared. 

“I thought you were leaving.” Nesta’s voice came from atop the stairs. She descended, moved past Cassian and Morrigan, and stopped near Nyra. She patted her twin on the head and walked towards Feyre to declare her intention to go with them. 

“As High Lady, Feyre is no longer my emissary to the human world.” Rhysand smiled at Nesta. “Want the job?”

A spark flared in those silvery blue eyes. “Consider this meeting a trial basis. And I’ll make you pay through the teeth for my services.”

Rhys bowed a little. “I would expect nothing less of an Archeron sister. Welcome to the court. You’re about to have one hell of a first day.” 

Nesta smiled, something unexpected for most of them. She went over to Nyra and sat on the armrest. “Are you okay?”

“Not good, not bad.” Nyra replied. 

Rhysand looked over at Nyra. “Interested in being an emissary, Nyra?”

She looked at him, contemplated the offer, and replied. “When I’m feeling better.” 

“You should.” Nesta spoke, looking at her with mild disapproval. “Make use of those languages you learned.”

“You’re fluent in those languages too.”

“Languages?” Feyre asked. 

“Eight.” Nyra raised her hand.

“Seven.” Nesta raised her hand.

“When?” Rhysand was stupefied. Languages in the mortal and fae lands were quite similar owing to the coexistence of both species until five hundred years ago. 

“Mother nearly screeched at us to learn five. We got carried away.” Nyra answered. 

“I’m not the one who learned another language just to talk to someone she’d only met.” Nesta muttered.

“Tell me about this.” Cassian eagerly asked, forgetting that he was supposed to remain nonchalant with Nesta. 

Nesta looked at him, surprised. She simply stared at him before finally speaking. “Once upon a time, Nyra wanted to talk to someone. But he did not speak any languages we were fluent in. So she learned his language and finally spoke to him.”

“Him?” Rhysand was now grinning like a cat and watching an utterly stone faced Azriel.

“Shut up.” Nyra muttered. The shadows had begun tugging on her fingers, as if someone would somehow take her away. 

“Two minutes into the conversation and she pushes him from the balcony.” Nesta concluded, earning a shocked look from all.

“As she should.” Azriel muttered. 

Nyra looked up at him in disbelief. “You don’t even know what happened.”

Azriel walked over and laid a possessive arm around her. He squeezed the flesh of her shoulder to remind himself that she was here in front of him. “I don’t need to.” 

Azriel simply watched her. He could watch her for so long. Her eyes as they brightened and dimmed during conversations. The movement of her mouth as she spoke and laughed and frowned or cried. 

And she was so willing to allow his scarred hands to touch her. 

Azriel had held Nyra a few times. And he was always marvelling at how unbelievably soft she was. For someone like him, she was so easily pressed against him. 

And he wrapped her in his arms for a hug. When Nyra looked up at him, confused, Azriel realised what he’d done. “My mother likes hugs during her cycle.” 

It was true. 

“She sounds nice.” Nyra pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes in contentment. “Warm hugs are nice.”

At this moment, where war was imminent, Azriel wanted to marry this female. 

Because every moment with her would be worth a lifetime of waiting and an unpredictable future. 

He heard her breathing pattern became even. She was comfortable and about to fall asleep. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” 

“I won’t.” Nyra sounded tired and ready to fall asleep in his arms and Azriel was sure he would not leave if that happened. He looked at the people around him. 

His stupid brothers were grinning with Feyre soon picking up on the feel of the family. He was already suspicious of Mor being attracted to Nyra. The appearance of Elain at the end of the corridor, walking towards them, caught his eye. 

Elain looked at him and then at Nyra and hurried over. She took Nyra from Azriel’s arms and made her sit. Azriel knelt before her and took her hand. “Sleepy?”

“Hm.”

“Does it hurt?” 

Nyra sat straight, a little alert. “. . . no.” 

“Your tea will be ready soon.” 

“Hm.” Nyra looked at him and frowned when she realised something. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you still here?”

And could he ever answer that with the truth? That he wanted to be with her and take care of her. And that every moment he took here was his selfishness trying to salvage every scrap of a shared moment. 

At that moment, Rhysand walked over and patted her head with a fond smile. “Tea is on the second shelf from the top right. You know where the mugs are. Books are in the family library but if you need more from downstairs, Azriel’s shadows can get them for you. And-”

“If you want to go to the priestess’ library, ask Clotho for Inanna.” Mor interrupted her cousin. “There’s an ample supply of snacks and if you want something else, just tell the wraiths and they’ll get it for you. And-”

“Tell the shadows if you need anything.” It was Azriel’s turn now. “Tea, cheesecake, books, anything. They’ll get it for you. And if you want to go outside, tell them. They’ll take you wherever you wish.” 

“Do they go shopping?”

“Yes.” He’d discovered that recently when the shadows started spending his money on dresses that they were delighted when Nyra wore. He had no clue exactly which dresses they’d bought and Nyra knew nothing. 

We bought all of them. The little bastards sounded entirely proud. 

Look at the sage green she’s wearing now. 

Very demure. 

Very adorable. 

And we were very mindful. 

They were in their own world, celebrating as if they’d achieved something and Azriel did not even say anything because Nyra looked really. . . gods, he wanted to tear out his heart and give it to her. 

“No going back now.” Cassian grinned. 

Rhysand’s wings were now visible and as Nyra learned, it would be seen by the other High Lords and their diplomats for the first time. “I figure it’s time for the world to know who really has the largest wingspan.”

“Wingspan?” Nyra asked. 

Mor sauntered over with an impish grin. Azriel twirled Nyra around, shielding her from the blonde female but that didn’t deter Mor from nearly shouting. “Azriel has the largest-” Feyre nearly hauled her away. 

“Feyre. She needs to know this. It’s absolutely important.” Morrigan protested as if she’s been stopped from divulging the secret of the universe. “Azriel has the largest mmfph-” Feyre covered Mor’s mouth but the rest of the sentence was not hard for Nyra to guess. 

And Nyra who had been cornered by Azriel looked up at him with an amused smile. “Does the wingspan mean something else?”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t know how to answer that. He opened his eyes and found himself enamoured by her. 

“Is that why you don’t resort to poetry?” She tilted her head with a smile, completely swept away by the urge to tease him. 

Azriel met her gaze. He did not blush, did not shy away, but looked at her with intent. He leaned down to her ear and whispered. “Would you like to find out?” 

Nyra’s smile was no more. The intensity in his eyes was beginning to be reflected in her own. She saw his gaze fall from her eyes to her lips. 

Something more powerful than lightning crackled between them. 

Nyra, now aware of her own attraction towards him, was not in control of her words or actions. 

Azriel, on the other hand, had simply succumbed to the odd bit of courage and had not expected the way she reacted. 

She’s attracted. She finds you attractive! The shadows nearly blew his eardrums with their cheers. Kiss her! Kiss her, you stupid male! 

“Go to your meeting.” Nyra whispered, placing a hand on his chest. She pushed him but he did not budge. 

She met his gaze and saw his yearning. Nyra really hoped she wasn’t hallucinating because if this male was yearning for her, then. . . this was probably the right time to faint. 

Why hadn’t she fainted yet? 

She’d been looking at Azriel’s unreasonably attractive face for this long. Surely, she should’ve fainted by now. Meanwhile, the shadows enveloped them and brought them to another room.

Azriel placed a gentle palm on her cheek. He was close. So close that another breath could lead to a kiss. “Will you be fine?” 

“Yes.” Nyra felt like she would’ve said yes to anything at that moment. This was maddening. Azriel was looking at her lips now. 

“What’s happening?” Nyra whispered.

“Whatever you’d like.” He looked her in the eye.

“You’ll be late.” The implication that he’d be late because he’d be occupied with her did not escape either of them. What they’d be doing to be occupied remained undecided.

“I’m not. . .” She trailed away and then kissed the corner of his mouth. “That’s all I’m brave enough to do.” She looked at his chest where her nails were sort of scratching on his leathers. 

Azriel leaned in, consumed by his own desire and Nyra’s, their eyes fluttering close, and then he stopped. “Not now.” 

Nyra looked up at him, eyes narrowed and irritation flashing in them. 

Azriel laughed lightly and grabbed her waist. “Do you feel this?” He pushed his hips against hers, eliciting a delicious gasp. “If I start, I will make us both finish.” 

Nyra scowled. “Since you have a grand total of zero intentions of doing anything, go.” 

“Must you be so adorable?” Azriel rubbed his nose against hers. 

“Must you be so annoying?” Nyra shot back. Azriel thrust his hips against hers, nearly going mad when she gasped against his lips. His cock was enjoying the friction far too much and ached for clothes to be discarded.

“Are you actually going to this meeting?” She did not sound like she wanted him to go. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Yes, yes, yes, yes. And even when he asked the question, he knew that she wanted him to stay. 

“There’s a war, Azriel.” Her mood dampened and so did his. It was a brutal reminder that things were too dangerous. 

Azriel stepped back and extended a hand. She gave him her left hand, her dominant hand, and he kissed the back of it. “I’ll be back.” 

The pair of them stepped out of the room to meet a very smug lot of busybodies. 

“We will talk.” Nesta gave her a secret smile.

“No, we will not.” Nyra retorted. 

“Anyway,” She looked at the smirking High Lord and his entourage. “All the very best to you nosy lot.” She looked at Nesta. “And if you sense that thing. . . right.” 

Nesta nodded impassively. Nyra saw Elain and her teasing smile and the older sister blanched because Nesta was going away for now but Elain would be here and she could be relentless when she wanted to be. “And stop smirking, Azriel.” 

“You’re not even looking at me.” The shadowsinger spoke. 

“I don’t have to.” Nyra then looked at him pointedly to see him shake his head with a close-eyed smile. 

“Brother dearest.” Rhysand flung an arm over Azriel’s shoulder and from where he stood, the Spymaster disappeared into the shadows to reach ahead at the Dawn Court. Rhys nearly fell before retaining his balance and eventually, his posture. And the company departed for Dawn.

****

What did he even expect when Eris had the ability to speak, Beron continued to exist, and Tamlin—Mother knew how much of that High Priestess’s insolence had rubbed off on him. 

Azriel knew his family could feel his irritation. A few of his shadows were with Nyra but that didn’t make up for him not being there with her. 

When Nesta felt something was wrong, the three Illyrians scouted for danger. They were in the House of Wind to check in on Elain and Nyra and found both sisters together. Both sisters were sitting on the floor with Elain holding Nyra’s cheeks and worrying.  

“Something is wrong.” Elain looked at Rhys. “I can feel it but Nyra is. . .”

“Allow me to help you.” Rhysand sat down with her and tried to enter Nyra’s mind only to be thwarted by a storm. The High Lord looked at the shadowsinger who was already sitting next to Nyra. “Can you reach her?”

Azriel focused on the bond, on that blessing that tied his rotten self to this wonderful person. Please. Nyra. Come back. 

“The Cauldron.” She whispered. Azriel watched her closely, wondering if he had been successful in reaching her. Nyra turned to him, her eyes still brightly gleaming. “It will break soon. There’s so much pain.” 

Her eyes returned to their original blue. “Az.” She gasped. He immediately gathered her in his arms. “It’s too wrong. The balance is at stake.” 

“Nyra?” Rhysand called and she turned to him. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“I. . . I think the Cauldron was calling for help.”

“Tell us everything.” Cassian had sat down on Elain’s other side. 

“They’re trying to break something.” Nyra said. “Using the Cauldron.”

“The boundary will shatter.” Elain spoke, her eyes now white. “Gods will rise. The mirror will awaken the Sovereign and the Slayer-” Elain stopped abruptly to shut her ears. “No, no, no, no.” And she kept chanting. 

“Elain, please let me in. I can help you.” Rhysand touched her shoulder. And they waited and watched as Rhysand help Elain calm down. She was now unconscious and a wave of night carried her to the bed. 

They turned to Nyra who was looking at Elain. 

“I’m staying.” Azriel spoke, his voice allowing no argument. 

“All right.” Rhysand. “Come to Dawn tomorrow.” The shadowsinger glared at him. “If things are better here.” The High Lord quickly added. Azriel did not deign to reply as he focused on Nyra. 

“All right.” Nyra looked at the General. “How is she?” 

“Physically, she’s fine but I think whatever she felt, it disturbed her.” Cassian himself seemed disturbed. Rhysand patted Nyra’s head and so did Cassian before the two headed for the balcony leaving Azriel, Nyra, and an unconscious Elain in the same room. 

“You could’ve left.” Nyra spoke as she continued to watch Elain. She waved her hand in front of her, lightning crackling at her fingertips as she cast a shield on Elain’s malnourished frame. 

She looked at Azriel and gestured with her head towards the door. They exited and found themselves in front of the door to Nyra’s room.

“I’m worried.” He watched her as she got lost in thought. He touched her shoulder and made her look at him. “Let’s have dinner.” She nodded and followed him. 

Neither of them paid much attention to the food or to anything else. They also did not mind as they entered her room, as she changed into her nightdress, and as Azriel removed his shirt. They quietly laid down, and chastely embraced each other, and fell asleep sharing an intimacy that calmed each other. 

****

“How did you even meet him?” Feyre whispered to Elain. All four Archerons, Azriel, Morrigan, and Rhysand waited as the gates to Lord Nolan’s prison-like estate opened.

“At a ball—his father’s ball.” 

“I’ve been to funerals that were merrier.” Nesta muttered, not caring if she was offending anyone.

“This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.” Elain sharply looked at Nesta before facing ahead. Behind her, both Feyre and Nesta looked at Nyra as if to ask how Nyra even approved of this match. The lightning wielder looked at them, raised her hands in surrender.

The stench of fear and disgust was overwhelming as the fae were escorted to the guardhouse. Nesta readied herself to control her temper and to let go if Graysen so much as breathed wrongly. Nyra remained observant and Feyre stood by her side. 

Do you think Nesta will kill him? Feyre asked, worrying about the consequences of harming humans. 

Probably. Nyra replied, looking around as they entered. 

And what type of person is Lord Nolan?

I might kill him. Feyre let surprise overtake her features for a single second before schooling them. She clutched Nyra’s arm in worry and in an attempt to restrain. 

Graysen entered and looked at Elain earnestly. His father certainly intimidated Elain enough for her stutter. Nesta took over, revealing the news about the wall and the Cauldron. Introductions were made by Feyre and Elain finally braved herself to make her request. Unfortunately, things escalated. 

“I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.” 

Feyre felt Nyra’s calm fury as Lord Nolan said those words. She’d never been once afraid of her older sister. Her sweet older sister who never denied her a story to put her to sleep and keep away the nightmares. 

Nyra who continued to remind Feyre what it meant to have a human heart even though she knew that her older sister had lost her own many years ago. Nyra whose words carried her for all of her human life so she could finally find her own will. 

Wasn’t he the one who hurt Azriel in Hybern? Nyra was too calm as she asked. Feyre remembered that she had shown Nyra everything that happened in Hybern and now she was worried.

Yes. Feyre’s reply was followed by the roar of thunder. 

Feyre held her older sister by the arm and drew circles on the back of her hand because the rainstorm that had just begun was proof that Nyra was not as calm as her expression portrayed her to be. The High Lady held her sister long enough for Jurian’s side of the story to be heard. Azriel had vanished into the shadows to update Cassian.

We may have to get this problematic creature away from here. Nesta’s voice entered Feyre and Rhysand’s minds.

Jurian?  Rhysand asked. 

Nyra has recognised him as the one who hurt Azriel. Feyre clarified. 

She’ll fry him like a fish. Nesta did not sound worried. 

That explains the rainstorm. Rhysand sighed. Two idiots who don’t even realise their feelings for each other. He remembered the sadist Azriel could be while torturing people. He thought he’d seen the worst and the last of it when the shadowsinger tortured his half-brothers but clearly that wasn’t the case. The raven who’d touched Nyra was still in the dungeons, screaming to be killed. And for the first time, he’d seen the shadows actively torture someone. 

And- Their attention was drawn to Elain and Graysen arguing over the engagement ring. 

“Take. It. Off!” For a human surrounded by fae of such power, his audacity to shout was shocking. Things were about to get ugly. Graysen ignored his father’s warning and moved forward. 

“Take it off!” Graysen roared. Lightning struck the land right outside. Lord Nolan rushed over to the window to see the stables broken and burning despite the sudden rain. Graysen’s gaze followed his father. 

Lightning crackled inside the room, playing with the hands of one fae who had remained utterly calm. Till now. “You will mind your tone when you speak to my family.” 

Nyra tapped Feyre’s hands and the youngest let go of her sister. “You will grant sanctuary to any human who reaches here. And you will shut your mouth and do as I say lest you’d prefer that I eradicate everything in the vicinity.”

“You wouldn’t.” Graysen put on a facade of false bravery. 

“Or would I?” Nyra challenged and the human lordling couldn’t meet it as he looked at the lightning crackling at her fingertips.

And before Graysen could say anything, Lord Nolan grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the room. “Get your faerie people out of here.” 

“Father, you cannot simply-”

“Listen to me well, boy. Whether she’s human or fae is irrelevant—you do not mess with Nyra Archeron.” Lord Nolan was supposedly whispering but the fae could hear it clearly with their hearing. 

The father roughly let go of his son and the latter turned to Elain. “I am not marrying you. Our engagement is over. I will take whatever people occupy your lands. But not you. Never you.” 

And before the insolent reptile could say anything to break Elain’s heart further, Nesta smacked him across the face. The fae departed upon Nesta’s declaration to do so and Nyra spared Jurian a withering glance. Jurian met her gaze and bowed his head. “Greetings to you, Conqueror of the Cauldron.”

****

When the war began, Nyra resolved to look after Elain who was having more nightmares. It was quiet between them and Elain’s visions were showing her all sorts of things. Some were calming, some were outright terrifying. And Nyra quietly absorbed Elain’s exhaustion. 

The end of the first battle came with a plan to glamour soldiers. Nyra simply tapped Feyre’s forehead and granted her access to her power. “Don’t overdo it. It might harm you.” 

And they watched the end of it as Cassian was cornered and he continued to fight valiantly. As Azriel in a cloud of shadows and blue lights fought to reach his brothers. As Nyra worried for the two of them, a flash of her power found its way to the shadowsinger. The sisters watched as Azriel slammed his fist on the ground, releasing a blast of lightning in the surrounding area. 

****

Nyra felt the wrongness of this dream. Thunder collapsed as she woke up. She looked around and found Nesta on her bed but Elain?

She threw away her blankets and took her robe. Elain was not on her bed. Or anywhere in sight. Nyra exited the tent and looked around. Everything seemed fine. 

Her eyes glowed and she found the trail of Elain’s golden magic. Without another thought, Nyra followed it. 

Nyra quietened. Mud and twigs and dirt and leaves clung to the hem of her nightdress and robe by the time she reached the enemy’s camp where Elain’s trail led her to. 

Nyra observed the rotations of the guards patrolling, timed them, waited for the opportunity, and snuck in. She followed the trail cautiously and reached a tent with a table, Elain, and the ghastly Cauldron. Wispy smokes emanated from it, taunting her. 

Once she’d helped Elain stand up straight, the younger sister began ranting about someone else. “There’s a child. A human.” Elain spoke between her sobs, eyes white. “She’s here. . . and she’s so young. We can’t leave her here.” 

Nyra hesitated. It was one thing that Elain was kidnapped. She didn’t even know how they were going to return. She exhaled, giving up on trying to convince Elain to worry about herself before others. 

“Where’s she?” Elain led her to an altar. One look and Nyra realised that Elain had not thought of how this girl was to be saved. 

The girl was human and tied to a wooden pole on the altar. Those surrounding the altar were playing cards and discussing how they would ‘take’ the girl. 

Rage swirled within her and the first clap of lightning struck the nearest group. Nyra stood tall, lightning crackling all over her body. The next group of people were examining the remains of those who had been charred and she moved in a flash of lightning. 

A flash of light was all that any of them saw before they dropped dead, vital organs severed from their bodies. After the massacre, the girl’s cries stopped. Nyra looked at her and stepped on the altar. Elain followed and began helping her. “We’ll get you out of here.” 

Nyra looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, consumed by the power she now wielded freely. Rain poured gently over the land. Lightning fractured the sky and thunder echoed around the world. 

A tingle passed through them and the next thing they knew, they were in the camp with the Inner Circle at a distance, with Rhysand and Azriel facing each other, the former’s authority weak against the latter’s unfiltered wrath. 

The sudden thrum of power in the air caught their attention and they turned and saw the three females. 

“Feyre!” Elain cried. The human girl had fainted in her arms. Feyre looked at Elain and Nyra, horrified at the sight. 

The lightning wielder looked at her blood-coated hands. With her hands, she’d taken lives. She’d massacred them. Her rage was a ferocious beast—waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And it had. She’d been possessed by something so vicious and it was an entirely familiar feeling. 

“Nyra.” Nesta called her but Nyra couldn’t look her in the eye. She was unworthy. But then she felt hands on her own. The blood was now on Nesta’s hands. 

Nyra’s eyes were hot and wet with tears and as much as she clenched her jaw and bit her lip, she wanted to scream. She had killed, killed, and it wasn’t the first time but some part of her was lost. And something vile had taken its place. 

Lightning was a frightening element but it was hers—the element that now bowed to her. The element and everything beyond.

Death embraced her twin, and the skies roared throughout the night, renouncing any sense of tranquillity. And Nyra mourned for herself in Nesta’s arms.

****

The final battle in the mortal lands felt a little personal. Maybe because she was once human. 

A few of Azriel’s shadows were with her, helping her with mundane tasks, bringing Elain and the Truth Teller upon her request for a distraction. 

When Elain stabbed the king’s neck, the twins moved. A hand wrapped in lightning ripped away the king’s arm, freeing their father, and the shadows whisked him away. 

The king’s corpse fell and three Archerons towered over it. 

The inky black surface of the Cauldron had started cracking, not letting Feyre move away and with Amren inside. A bird of light and fire emerged, draining more of the Cauldron’s power. 

Nyra reached the Cauldron in a flash of lightning and placed a hand on it. Her eyes glowed blue. Nesta and Elain had joined her, their eyes now silver and white. Feyre could now let go of the Cauldron and she watched her sisters let their power flow to fix it. 

But what Feyre thought was not what was happening. The Cauldron cracked further and a white light emanated from the cracks seeming as if lightning adorned the artefact. And then, it broke. 

Feyre was soon joined by her mate, the other High Lords, and everyone else when the battle was finally over. 

Her sisters pushed in a wave of power to contain the essence. The cracked pieces of the Cauldron rose into the air and above them. It came together, melted like iron in fire, and took shape. 

A brand new Cauldron was formed with legs and carvings. 

Three hands gathered the essence from the old Cauldron and poured it inside the new one.

And when the power subsided and the Cauldron was settled, the Sovereign of the Skies, the Slayer of the King, and the Seer of the Stars remained. 

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Failed proposal

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Summary; Azriel finally gathers the courage to propose, but what happens when the ring gets mixed with the earrings Cassian got for Nesta?

I was inspired by the movie "something from Tiffany's"

Warnings; a bit of angst and swearing. Mentions of violence.

Winter solstice was coming and everyone was rushing around trying to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. You, Feyre, and Nesta had already shopped for gifts and hid them around the house so the males wouldn’t find them. They were way too impatient and you knew that the moment they would spot a present they would open it to see what it is. Even your mate Azriel who seemed strict and a sucker for rules would cave. 

You and Azriel met 50 years ago and the bond snapped instantly, you spent the next years going out on dates and taking things slow and about 20 years ago you moved in the house of wind and accepted the bond. You didn’t have a ceremony so you recently discussed about getting married, he seemed nervous and wrapped the conversation quite abruptly making you wonder if he really wanted this. You couldn’t understand what was holding him back, you had accepted the bond so getting married was actually something meant to happen. Your insecurities resurfaced and the jealousy consumed you as you thought about the time he spent with Elain in order to help her adjust, but after overhearing that he had a big plan for this winter solstice, you decided to wait until then to confront him. The girls were all convinced that he will give you the ring you yearned for and you couldn’t hide your excitement.

Azriel 

“I don’t know Rhys… none of the rings feels right” Azriel said as they walked around in the store.  

“What about this one?” Rhys exclaimed and held a ring in Azriel’s face. The shadowsinger took a step back and examined the ring, it was indeed a beautiful gold ring with a blue marquise cut stone the same shade as his siphons. Azriel took the ring from Rhysand’s hand and moved it to the light, it was just as shiny as your eyes, he thought and smiled. 

“Okay I’ll take this” he informed the salesman and followed him to the register. After the ring was packed he took the bag and hurried off hoping to get home before you so he could hide it.

He entered the library and removed one stone from the wall leaving the present inside and placing the stone back into place. He was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice the same bag that Cassian had hidden there too.

Winter solstice.

Azriel’s behavior was completely odd the past days and this morning he jumped off the bed like you burned him. You were really confused but also excited because these were telltale signs of an upcoming proposal -or at least that’s what the girls had been telling you.

The night came rather quickly and you all gathered in the main room of the house of wind with all the presents. 

Feyre gave Rhysand a painting of Nyx and him flying around, then she gave Cassian a book about war strategies. For Nesta she had bought a book series and for Elain some gardening supplies. Then she moved to Azriel for whom she got a new dagger, and finally you… you opened the velvet box and gasped, she got you the necklace you had been checking out for months. You hugged her and then it was Rhysand’s turn, he bought Feyre an art gallery and jewellery and weapons for the rest of you. 

Azriel’s turn came, and he gave Feyre a sketchbook, then gave Rhysand a new pair of Illyrian leathers, and a new sword to Cassian. He had bought Nesta a book and then he moved to Elain, you almost growled when she gasped and held a bracelet with a pink rose charm. Then it was your turn, he looked nervous as he grabbed the last bag and gave it to you. 

At the same time Cassian pushed a similar bag in Nesta’s hands whispering “I can’t wait anymore open it please” 

You opened the bag and saw a small velvet box, your heart stopped and you glanced at Azriel. It’s happening. You thought and opened the box with a huge smile on your face.

“Oh Az… uhm thank you” your smile fluttered.

He furrowed his eyebrows and asked “what?” 

“I love them” you smiled and showed him the box, a pair of earrings was inside and he frowned. 

Nesta squealed and jumped on her feet 

“Yes yes yes a million times yes” she screamed and hugged a very confused Cassian. 

Your eyes watered as you stared at them.

Cassian gulped as he saw the ring. He was sweating but seeing Nesta’s reaction he smiled and placed it on her finger. You couldn’t take it anymore so you congratulated them and excused yourself. Azriel was speechless… he glared at Cassian and hurried off to find you. 

You were in your shared room, sitting on the bed and crying. Azriel felt a pang in his chest but he couldn’t tell you, he didn’t want to do this without the ring. Rage filled him and he thought about all the ways he would beat Cassian. 

“What’s wrong angel?” He asked and sat next to you. 

“Do you even love me anymore?” You asked him, your voice breaking. 

“Of course, more than anything… where is this coming from?” 

You just shrugged and laid back. You didn’t mind that he didn’t propose as much as the fact that he gave Elain something that reminded of her while he gave to you a pair of simple earrings…and he knew that you didn’t even wear earrings. 

He opened his mouth to speak again but quickly shut it as you turned your back on him and tried to sleep. 

Azriel was confused because he didn’t feel any disappointment down the bond, just jealousy. He thought about it and then it hit him…he gave Elain -with whom you had a problem- a thoughtful gift while he gave you something that you didn’t even use. He felt even worse and with a groan he fell back and stared at the ceiling.

The morning came and you woke up alone in bed…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Rhysand exclaimed.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this too.” Azriel sighed. “I met her a few days before you were trapped under the mountain so our first years as mates were not easy, then she moved to the house of wind where everyone was mourning you and we didn’t even have a ceremony for accepting the bond, she just brought a piece of apple pie in our room and offered it to me…. The next days I was busy helping Mor, Cassian and Amren rule Velaris and  we didn’t even celebrate our bond. I can’t let anything destroy the proposal too.” 

Cassian walked into Rhysand’s office and Azriel immediately pounced on him.

“You fucking idiot” -punch

“Why didn’t you say something?” -punch 

“You fucking stole my ring” -punch 

“You stole my moment" -punch, punch 

The warlord was accepting the punishment knowing that he messed up, only when the high lord pulled Azriel back he dared to speak. 

“I’m so sorry brother… I was shocked I didn’t know what to do…and Nesta was so excited… I couldn’t find it in my heart to destroy the moment” he avoided Azriel’s gaze, the shame consuming him. 

“I. Want. My. Ring. Back.” The shadowsinger growled, pausing between each word. 

“Okay…” Cassian mumbled and left. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were sitting in your room staring out the window… you wondered if Elain came here sooner would Azriel still want you to accept the mating bond? You doubted that and pain filled your heart. 

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts and Nesta walked in.

“Heyyyy, I was wondering if you would like to come with me to the store where Cassian got me the ring, I want to ask them how to maintain it clean” she said and stretched her hand out staring at the ring.

“Sure” you shrugged and got up. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feyre came and winnowed the three of you to the store, you walked in gaping at all the jewels there… the store was really expensive. 

“Hello, I recently got engaged and I wanted to ask how to clean this” Nesta asked the salesman and showed him the ring.

“Ooh yeah, you must be y/n” he smiled, you glanced up but he wasn’t looking at you, he was talking to Nesta. 

“The shadowsinger was so excited when he found this ring, he kept saying how shiny it was  just like your eyes” he continued and Nesta gulped. You were staring wide-eyed, your jaw almost touched the floor but thankfully Feyre pushed it back in place. 

“Azriel bought this?” Feyre asked. 

“Yes my lady, your husband was here too, he was helping the shadowsinger choose.” 

“What about Cassian?” Nesta asked and the salesman gave her a questioning look. 

“The warlord, the general of the armies… the brute with the red siphons” she explained and you and Feyre snorted at the last remark. 

“Oh yes. He was here first he got a beautiful set of earrings” 

And then it hit you, somehow the two idiots mixed their presents. Nesta growled and turned around marching out.

“Thank you” Feyre smiled and pulled you out.

 Nesta was pacing…

“Y/n I’m so sorry” she said when she saw you. 

“It’s okay Ness” you smiled.

“Why didn’t the idiot say something? Oh he is sleeping outside today” she growled.

“I think he just didn’t want to ruin the moment, you were really excited” your voice was soft as you spoke.

“Yeah but we ruined your moment” she pushed 

“It’s okay I’m used to it” you shrugged with a sad smile. 

She gave you the ring.

“I think this belongs to you” 

You placed it on your finger and stared.

“The stone is the same color as Azriel’s siphons” Feyre noted.

“Yeah I was confused about that too” Nesta shrugged. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was served and you and the girls walked inside the dining room taking your usual seats. Azriel glanced at you with a worried look and Cassian whispered something to Nesta… she shook her head and smirked.

The room buzzed with conversation and everything felt normal again, you reached for the wine bottle in front of Azriel, the ring on display. Azriel was taking a sip from his wine and the moment his eyes fell on the ring he choked, spraying the wine all over the table making everyone stop and look at you. 

You giggled while Nesta and Feyre smiled.

“Where… how…when?” Azriel was blurting out questions. 

“We went to the shop today and the salesman called Nesta by my name so we figured” you shrugged and smiled. 

Cassian’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair back, he glanced at Nesta and with a quick “oh shit” he jumped up and ran away, Nesta following suit.

Azriel smiled softly and took your hand in his own, pressing a small kiss on the back of your palm. 

“I didn’t want this to happen like this…. We deserve one good moment” he whispered.

“Being in the dining room with all our family is a pretty good moment…” you smiled “and maybe we can lock Cassian in a cell on our wedding day” 

Azriel burst into laughter and pulled you in his arms. 

“I promise to give you the most amazing wedding day” he smiled and kissed you. 

Requests are open!

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (19)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

Power feels like loneliness. All these years that you have run from it, you didn’t know exactly what you were running from. You knew all the rules and pomp and circumstance. But you didn’t know this, this feeling now that stabs at every part of your heart.

Loneliness. You’ve never had the time to feel it. You had your parents, and when they were gone you had the council and your brother. And when you left you had other people, Thesan and Amren being one of them. 

As you’re sitting in your room now, it’s all you can feel. An empty palace. An empty shell of yourself. All of it is empty. 

A knock comes from the door of your room. You look over at the door passively. You can’t speak anymore, you can’t cry anymore either. You’ve done enough of both over the past few days.

The door opens and Amren pokes her head inside.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this but you need to get out of this room.” She says.

You sigh and get up from the chair you’ve occupied for hours now. But you head away from her and toward the balcony. You know she’ll join you, and you’re confirmed right when you feel her by your side.

“I’m sorry, I failed you. I should have come sooner.” She apologizes.

You look at her in confusion, “Amren my brother’s fate was already sealed. And it isn’t your fault any of this happened.”

You voice is groggy and dry. The cons of not talking in days to anyone. 

“What do you do now?” She asks.

Turning your eyes away from her you look out into the distance. From here you could see the blood river. You grip the metal banister of the balcony tighter. The only way you know any of this is real. The cold of the metal against your palms. The wind touching your skin.

“I don’t know. I never wanted this, but I can’t run from it any longer. I’m the empress.” You answer slowly.

“I’ll join you.” She says.

“I couldn’t ask you��“ you start.

“You don’t have to ask. I’ve already told Rhysand that I’ll be here from now on.” She cuts you off.

You look at her then in shock. Not that you are surprised that she would do something like this for you. She had told you as such. But it’s the feeling in your chest that you get from hearing her words. 

Maybe a tiny part of the loneliness you feel right now, turns into something warm. Something, not lonely. 

You wrap your arms around her. Amren engulfs you in a hug. It feels good. Home hasn’t felt like home in a long time but maybe if she’s here, it can be. You can make it home with Amren by your side.

-

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just go back to Sangri. Back to you. It sucks that Amren is the only one who got to stay. Well, she outright told Rhysand that if he asked for her at this time she wouldn’t come. Azriel should have said the same.

It’s been days since everything went down. You killing your ex husband, your brother dying, you assuming the throne. Never did Azriel think he’d be in this position.

In love with an empress. 

Not only that, but by your people’s culture you were already married. It’s one of the things he’s been tossing and turning about in the night. Is he some type of royalty now?

Is that why when he visited the village no one was scared of him? Because they could smell your blood on him? 

And the biggest question of all he has, why did you offer it to him knowing what it meant?

These questions swirl his mind now. He’s too preoccupied to talk at this family dinner. Everyone besides Amren is here at the table. Elaine at his right side. Cassian at his left. Nesta across from her mate. Feyre at her sister’s side and Rhysand next. 

“Brother, are you with us?” Rhysand asks.

Azriel looks up from his plate. He had been pushing his food around. Nothing could go down after all that he witnessed. All that he heard and saw. 

“He just needs time to forget what happened.” Elaine answers for him.

Azriel doesn’t even pass her a glance. Yes, he and Elaine had something going on. Longing glances, delicate touches and sweet words. But he never let it pass that line. Lucien was her mate as much as it bothered him. And then came you. And he hasn’t looked back since. 

“I can’t forget it.” He says.

“I told all of them to get you out of there, but none of them listened to me.” Elaine goes on.

“Elaine…” Feyre trailed off. 

“It’s the truth! Look at him, he can’t eat, he hardly sleeps and when he’s with us he’s barely here.” Elaine speaks.

“I don’t think—I need to go back.” Azriel surmises and gets out of his seat at once.

Elaine bolts out of her seat too, “You almost died there, no thanks to your new friend.” 

Everyone in the room looks at her now. And while rage should be reserved for Azriel at the mention of calling his mate his friend, the rage rests with Morrigan. She slams her fist on the table, causing a commotion of metal against porcelain. 

“She is not my friend, she is my mate.” Azriel says.

“Don’t say that—it doesn’t mean the same thing to her, she’s not fae. She doesn’t feel it.” Elaine tries again.

She reaches over for Azriel’s hand but he takes a step back. Hurt washes over the female in front of him and then anger. Subtle anger, a slight frown and a tense brow.

“Why do you want her?” Elaine asks.

Azriel shakes his head, “I need her. She makes me, me. She is probably the only person to see me for who I am completely and look me in the eye.”

“Azriel that’s not true. I see you! I’ve known you longer and—“ Elaine tries one last time.

“It doesn’t matter, she needs me. I’m leaving.” Azriel speak finally. Then without another word he’s winnowing out of the dinning room. Out of Velaris. And out of the night court. He’s on his way to you. He doesn’t know why he left in the first place. -

The blood river helped distract you at times. It wasn’t really a distraction, but more of a calmness. You could try to make peace with what happened here, as the waves lap at your feet. 

You look down at your wrist. 

He had left but his shadow stayed. You’re not sure how you feel about that. It was fairly quick too. He told you goodbye and left with his family. It’s not like you were expecting something big. But you were expecting something.

In all of your years you never felt something like this for someone. People have com and go but this knot in your stomach that you feel when you think about him doesn’t unravel. Knowing that he’s got your blood running through his veins also doesn’t help.

Semaj asked you about him today. You had finally left the palace. Amren locked you out of your room and told you to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t there. And you took her up on it. You walked right out the front door.

You went to the village, where everyone held off on greeting you. They bowed their heads in grief. They offered you no necklaces, no songs or ale.

When you got to Semaj’s family’s house they welcomed you with open arms. They cooked you a meal as you sat with Semaj and asked him about how he was doing.

It didn’t take long for him to short cut your questions and ask you his own. Particularly when your ‘husband’ was coming back. You’re lucky that you covered his mouth that day he found you and Azriel. He surely would have let it slip then.

You told him you didn’t know, and that even though your blood was in his veins it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to everyone else here. Semaj of course didn’t believe it but he let you sit in silence after that.

It felt weird being in their house as anything other than a guest. So you left after you ate and promised Semaj that you would be back soon. You walked to the blood river and now here you are.

Staring at a shadow wrapped around your wrist. Sitting by the blood river as the sun sets. You kick the water with your feet over and over.

Then you feel it. You feel him.

You turn around quickly. He’s standing there a few meters ahead of you. He’s dressed in his leathers again. And he’s looking right at you, even though he’s far away you can feel it. You watch as he winnows in front of you. You have to crane your head up to view him now.

“Did Amren tell you I was here?” You ask.

Azriel shakes his head, “I knew you would be here.” 

He doesn’t say another word. And neither do you. He sits down next to you and removes his shoes. He places them on his right side, away from the both of you. He lowers his feet into the water.

You bite the inside of your cheek. The feeling of the shadow on your wrist moving now apparent. You look down at it. Once you do, it shoots from your wrist and up to your arm. You can’t fight the ticklish feeling and so you let out a chuckle.

This makes Azriel look at you. He doesn’t seem surprised to see one of his shadows on you now. 

“Was this shadow telling you how I was doing?” You ask him now.

Azriel laughs softly to himself. “When it comes to you, the shadows have a mind of their own.” 

You two take a moment. There is so much between you right now, unexplainable things and things you are cautious to gauge now. You’ve known him for less than a year and yet here you are. 

You turn to him, “Do you want to talk about what Kynas said. About us?”

Azriel shrugs his shoulders. “It doesn’t bother me.” 

Your brows furrow at this. Impossible man. How does he go on and say things like this? How does he look you in the eyes and drink your blood? How does he exist to challenge everything you've ever known.

“Okay, but does it bother Elaine?” You ask

He looks at you then. An unreadable look on his face. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or mad, or indifferent. This is weird territory right now.

“She doesn’t know. None of them do.” He answers.

You turn back to the river again. Secrets. He asked you to keep the secret of Velaris. You kept his secret that he wasn’t stuck here when the wards were still up. And now he’s keeping this secret.

“Semaj asked when my husband was returning.” You say.

Azriel stifles a laugh as best he can but you still hear it. You can’t help to laugh yourself. You remember the last time you laughed with him. How an expansive dam seemed to break and suddenly you were crying and breaking down.

It’s all or nothing with Azriel you realize in this moment. All or nothing.

“I’m sorry I left, I should have stayed. I don’t know why I didn’t.” He says and cuts the silence. 

“Trust me, if I could leave I would too.” You confide in him, then you think about what he’s saying a bit longer, “you wanted to be with your family. I get it.”

“I didn’t want to leave. I wanted them to know I was okay.” Azriel says quickly.

You pull your feet up to the ground. Bringing your knees to your chest. The water makes your feet cold as it dries off. With your arms wrapped around your legs you lay your head down and look at him from the side. 

“Do you forget you’re not bound here shadow singer? You never were.” You speak.

Azriel shakes his head, “I wasn’t bound by the wards, nor by your blood. But something else.” 

It’s opened ended. As if you are supposed to know what he’s talking about. And a part of you does. The part of you that remembered what he said that day you broke down. How he stayed to get to know you. 

You had that lesson at a younger age. People only what to get to know you for four reasons. Power, information, revenge or love. You can immediately strike down power and revenge with Azriel. But only one of the other two scare you. And it wasn’t information. 

You take him in now. How he stills looks like he fits right in here. How his skin glistens in the soft sunset. His wings are a bit tucked but otherwise he doesn’t look uncomfortable here.

“Rhysand talks of war like it’s on the horizon, and yet here you are.” You say carefully. 

He looks at you now. With intent, you realize. His head is turned to you and his eyes are on you. There is no way to mistake that he is looking at you and nothing else. 

“Here I am…” he trails off.

“I hope you don’t think our marriage status absolves you from cleaning while you’re here.” You joke.

Azriel smiles, “Is that an order from the empress or my wife?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” 

[lurkinggirlie]

Azriel's mother

A theory about Azriel's mother. aka I'm reaching (not sure if there are similar posts, but do let me know if there are ! I'd love to read them)

Disclaimer: this isn't a ship related post, but both Gwyn and Elain would be mentioned for different reasons. This isn't a Freud wet fantasy post so let's not go there. (Spoilers for the whole series and HOFAS bonus)

For someone we’ve never met, I have a lot of thoughts about Azriel’s mother as a character. We don’t know much about her but here are my best guesses from what we’ve glimpsed.

We first learn of Azriel’s mother straight after we meet him, we know his mom was probably assaulted by an Illyrian lord who was married to an evil female and had two older children.  (not sure if it was mentioned but she was probably really young and worked for Azriel's father)

What we know from ACOMAF:

Rhys’ mom knew Az’s mother which is why she took him in.

Azriel stayed in his father’s keep for 11 years, and was allowed to see his mother for an hour once a week. 

I’m not sure if there are any other mentions of her, but these are the instances I found.

*************************

Then later on in ACOFAS we get a little hint that she’s still alive: 

“When do you head out for Rosehall?”

“The morning after Solstice,” he supplied, turning toward the glittering sprawl of Velaris. He winced—slightly. “I still need to do some shopping before I go.”

I offered my brother a crooked smile. “Buy her something from me, will you? And put it on my account this time.”

I knew Az wouldn’t, but he nodded all the same.”

It's not mentioned who “her” is neither where Rosehall is, but we could guess it’s someone he needs to buy a gift for. “Put it on my account this time” shows us that this isn’t the first time Rhys had asked Azriel to buy her something from him, but why is it that she isn’t invited over? Or why isn’t Rhys offering to visit her? I’ll talk about this later.

We get another mention of his mother in ACOFAS when he stops everyone from eating until Elain is seated.

*********************

ACOSF just confirms the suspicious about her being alive through Cassian’s POV

“His mother had needed a place like this. But Rhys had established it long after she’d left this world. He wondered if Azriel’s mother had ever considered coming here, or if he’d ever pushed her to” 

So, we know that Azriel's mother is still suffering from all the things she’s been through if she needs a safe haven like the library. 

Which brings me back to the point of “why isn’t she around the IC at all” 

Finally HOFAS’s bonus chapter (the Azriel/Bryce and Nesta chapter) 

Bryce jerked her chin toward Azriel. "You've got the broody look of someone with an awful mother, too. Care to share?"

Nesta snorted. "Az never talks about his mother, and neither will our friends, so I’m guessing she's even worse."

The Illyrian snarled softly, "My mother is anything but awful."

Nesta tensed, like she was surprised she'd gotten such a response from him. "I was joking. Az, I didn't even know-"

"I don't want to discuss this," Azriel cut her off coldly.

Azriel's mother is a sensitive topic confirmed. No one talks about his mom, he doesn't talk about his mom. Granted, Bryce is a stranger so of course he isn’t about to overshare but still makes me wonder. Especially since Nesta said that neither Azriel or their friends bring her up.

Now here are all my thoughts in regards to the things we have mentioned.

Reason 1 of why Azriel is keeping his mother away:

Perhaps Azriel is keeping his mother away from the IC, or more specifically his work environment because he doesn’t want her to see him this way, as in his job and the things he has to do, especially since in his bonus he mentions this:

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth.

He was in the library in this scene, talking to Clotho when he was giving the necklace to her.

I'm not saying that Azriel is like his father, but a big part of his job or overall persona is to look and be intimidating. And that could make his mother feel uneasy around him. Maybe Rosehall (wherever that is or whatever it is) is the safe space he has to see his mother; where he doesn't need to be the intimidating Spy/torturer/Shadowsinger.

And maybe the reason he gravitated towards the library, or found himself there not because of some magic singing abilities but because he subconsciously, or consciously thinks that his mother would fit there. Maybe she does end up going there in the next book.

We have seen how Gwyn have suffered, and how Azriel seemed so proud to see her regain her confidence/strength. but then we saw how the rite had triggered her again to go back to the library. So Perhaps Azriel's mother mental state is even more fragile which gets me to my second point:

Reason 2 of why Azriel is keeping his mother away:

Maybe his mother is not sane.

Hear me out, what if what had happened to his mother broke her in a way where being around people just triggers her. And Azriel just doesn't want anyone to see her this way because it breaks his heart.

Reason 3 of why Azriel is keeping his mother away:

I think there could be a possibility that his mother is a Seer but wasn't able to manage her powers properly maybe that on top of everything has driven her mad (or if we aren't going down that she isn't sane theory maybe he just doesn't want anyone using her. Maybe she blurts out her visions and we know that Seers are probably precious so of course someone would want to use that power and he simply doesn't want to put his mom through that). Remember in ACOWAR how he figured out that Elain was a seer? that he was the only one who listened and how he had looked at her and then disappeared. What if he had gone to where his mom is, to talk to her about this, to confirm. Maybe she helps Elain manage her visions

That is all, has anyone thought of Azriel's mother before? What are everyone's thoughts on this?

[strawbrerian-writes]

Take Me As I Am

Summary:

Long after the fall of a death lord, Lucien and Elain have become friends. Teammates even. He's learned to be content in this, never believing he could have more. As his parents prepare to take their vows, he's readying himself to become Prince of Day, and Elain has a question for Lucien.

for @elucienweekofficial

“Lucien?” 

Lucien slowly looked up from his book at the quiet intrusion, the scent of jasmine and honey filling the space. Elain was standing in the open door to his rooms, dressed in a long linen robe covering much of her sun-kissed skin.

“Yes, Lady?” Lucien stood, cognizant of the fact he was only in a pair of low-slung linen pants and a loose white tunic. He laid his book on the small table beside him. She seemed nervous her hands fisted in the tie of her robe.

“What is your least favorite food?” she asked the question in a rush. Lucien barely caught it.

“Why do you want to know?” Lucien asked in return, cocking his head just slightly. His long, unruly hair brushed over his shoulders. He shifted his weight, settling against the back of the sage green armchair he’d been lounging in.

“Don’t answer my question with a question, fox,” she quipped, standing a straighter as she found her courage. Jutting her chin forward, Elain marched into the room.

It made Lucien smile. To have her here. In his room, in his court. In his home.

Getting to that point was no easy task. She was cautious, skeptical, and surprisingly, the most stubborn of all three sisters. It had taken months, years even, from the moment he met her to the day she decided they were friends. Of course, a little danger and the heavy potential for death tended to bring to light long buried things.

After Koschei, after nearly dying in her arms, Lucien found that Elain did have feelings for him. Though even now, they spent time most of their time dancing around each other. She was just more likely to join him on his trips and whims now then to let him leave without her. 

She’d arrived in Day just that morning, coming ahead of the rest of the Night Court for the wedding. Tomorrow, his mother would marry Helion. His place would be solidified and legitimized in the Day Court. Elain would be beside him through it, had insisted she be there. The knowledge thrilled him.

He questioned why she’d arrived so early, and she’d brushed him off. Claiming a desire to assist his mother before the wedding, as well as keep the hot-blooded Vanserra’s calm.

“We make a good team,” she’d claimed. “And I know this is going to be awkward and overwhelming for you. To go from exiled seventh son of one high lord to the heir and prince of another, and teammates stick together.”

Lucien had only given her a hug, because it might have been the nicest thing she’d ever done for him outside of saving his sorry ass, and then whisked her off to wherever Sylva was fretting. He’d spied her flitting from room to room, but hadn’t been able to talk to her until now.    

Lucien thought for a moment, tapping his long fingers against his chin. “I supposed it’d be … century eggs.” 

It was Elain’s turn to quirk her head. Golden-brown hair tumbled over her shoulder, her robe shifting with it. Lucien struggled to keep his eyes on her face and off the sun-kissed skin revealed.

She’d be the death of him one day. Though he knew he’d die a happy man.

“100-year-old eggs?” Elain asked skeptically. The peach-colored robe dipped a little further, exposing a delicate collarbone.

Lucien wanted to dip his head and run his tongue across the exposed skin. His instincts riding him to taste, taste, taste. He adjusted his stance, crossing his legs as he reclined on the back of the chair. One hand gripped the wooden frame to give him some grounding, while the other pushed his hair off his face.  

“No, not a hundred years old,” Lucien answered, his voice just a touch strained. He watched her pink lips purse as he spoke. “Though, they are left to ferment for one hundred days.”

Those full lips twisted into a snarl, adorable nose scrunching up in disgust. “Why is it called a century egg then?” she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her. The movement pushed her small breasts upward.

Lucien stole a glance before shaking his head trying to dislodge the lewd thoughts trying to surface.

“I don’t have an answer for that,” he admitted. Elain sighed and walked around his sitting room.

“What is it, exactly?” she asked while perusing one of his bookshelves, running her fingers lightly across the spines.

“An egg,” Lucien laughed. Elain threw him a look over her shoulder. He winked his good eye and shot her a smile back. “One that’s fermented for 100 days until it turns black.”

“Ugh, why?” she groaned. She pulled a book from the shelf whose spine had little green vines decorating it and flipped it open.

It was a book of the horticulture of Scythia. It depicted the native plants and flowers of the small southern kingdom. Vassa thought Elain would enjoy it, and thus gave it to Lucien.

“Probably started from someone just trying to survive and evolved into a delicacy,” Lucien shrugged. “It tastes about as gross as it sounds, I promise.” 

‘Where did you try one?” she asked, fingers running over the pages. She had that cute little crease in her nose when she concentrated hard. Lucien watched her do it often when they were in Spring, trying to convince a sullen Tamlin that yes, he had to deadhead the roses.  

“Dawn,” he replied easily. “They hail from the continent, originally. From Xian, though several street vendors sell them in the market district, if you’d like to try one for yourself next time we go.”

“No thank you!” Elain squeaked, slamming the book closed. “I have no desire to eat a black fermented egg.”  

Lucien laughed “Then why did you ask?”

The faintest hint of a blush creeped over Elain’s skin, over that collarbone, up her neck. Lucien tracked it like a predator tracking prey.

It was intoxicating. He wanted to lick the trail up the side, bite at her pulse point until she was as breathless as he felt. He wanted --

“There’s still a lot to learn about each other,” she whispered softly, interrupting his thoughts. He watched her nose flare slightly, breathing in.

Shit. He could smell his own arousal beginning to saturate the air around them. She had to be scenting him.

Lucien nodded tightly. “True, very true,” he murmured. His chest thrummed, the mating bond tugging on him. Taste, claim, mate. His cock twitched to life in his trousers. He wanted to give in. Let go and think with his lesser brain. Things were so…good between them.

He couldn’t risk it. Precisely because things were so good between them. He couldn’t push her. She didn’t want the bond. Not yet. In all their time together, they hadn’t broached that subject. Still a sore point he supposed.

That sobered him a bit.

Elain brushed a thick strand of golden curls behind her ear. She put the book back on the shelf and turned, a small smile on her face.

“Mine’s nowhere near as exciting. It’s celery,” she said, fixing the robe over her shoulder. Lucien fought back his frown. “It just tastes like stringy watery weeds. I hate it.”   

“Duly noted,” he nodded. “My favorite is —”

“An apple tart sprinkled with cinnamon and a strong cider for the drink,” she finished with a grin. “Remember Eris’ birthday?”

Lucien’s face lit up at the memory. Elain had thrown the newly crowned high lord a birthday party during their trip to Autumn, and Eris kindly repaid her by getting Lucien so shitfaced he stood on the tables singing bawdy tavern songs and eating apple tarts and performing like a court jester.  

“I remember nothing,” he lied with a grin.

Elain threw her head back with a warm laugh that wrapped itself around his heart. It was enough to bring Lucien to his knees if he’d let it.  

“If I recall,” he continued, basking in the glow of her smile “you both conspired against me that night.”

“I seem to recall a certain emissary who couldn’t hold his liquor eating about twelve of those tarts before they came back up,” she teased, close enough now she poked his chest with one delicate finger. On instinct Lucien grabbed her wrist with one of his larger hands, holding it there.

“I can hold my liquor just fine. It’s not quite as easy when I’m drinking for you as well. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice you slipping me your whiskey every time one of my brothers refilled it?” Lucien smirked.

Elain opened her hand until her palm rested against his chest. The linen of his shirt was thin, her hand burning a hole through to his heart. She looked up at him with doe eyes, lips still pulled into a smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my lord,” she said, voice breathy and light.

Lucien held her there, so close that one step and they’d be flush against each other. They’d been here before. That night in Autumn. Lucien, blitzed off fire whiskey and faerie wine, had decided to give in, to go for it. He’d followed her back to her rooms, stood just like this before her. Ready to give her everything. He’d believed she wanted it then too, with her face turned up eyes wide and wet lips parted, or at least the alcohol let him think it. But before he could taste those sweet lips –

“Are you going to puke on my shoes this time too?” Elain asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she fisted her tiny hand in his shirt. He opened his mouth to argue when it hit him in the chest.

A sweet, musky scent right under the jasmine and honey. She was aroused. As soon as he released the groan that had been building, Elain ripped on the bond between them until he nearly fell into her. He had to wrap his arms around her to steady himself. Elain wound both hands into the collar of his tunic.

“Tell me to leave,” she whispered against his chest. Lucien leaned down, running his nose through her hair, drunk off the clean scent of her. He barely ghosted his lips over the gentle arch of her ear.

“Do you want me to?” he whispered into that soft ear. She shuddered and shook her head against his chest. “Then stay, Elain. Please.”

Lucien gently cupped the side of her face with one large hand, the other sliding up her back to pull her closer until there was no room between their bodies. Her soft flesh gave against his hard muscle.

Elain let him tilt her head up, lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath.  Her arousal was so potent he wanted to drown in it. Wanted to breath it in until all he could smell was his mate wanting him.

“Lucien…”

The sound of his name on her lips did him in. He leaned down, intending their first kiss to be gentle, just a brush of lips before he devoured her whole. Elain had other plans. She rose up and crashed her lips against his. He rocked back with the force of it, taking it all and moving against her.

Her fingers ran a trail up from his chest to his hair and buried themselves, holding him against her as she licked the seam of his lips. He parted them quickly, taking the opportunity to meet her tongue as it delved into his mouth. All thought escaped him at that first taste of her. His mind that had been running with a thousand questions just…stopped.

He devoured her. Pressing hard, scraping his teeth along her tongue, licking the inside of her mouth like he was trying to memorize it. She met him blow for blow. Nip for nip. Hands flying across his body, nails gently scraping against his shirt and skin.

Finally, Elain withdrew just enough to wrap her lips around the tongue in her mouth and suck, flicking the tip of it with her own tongue. Like a promise, for what could come. He moaned obscenely into that mouth. There wasn’t a drop of blood left in the rest of his body. His cock held on to that promise and began to throb, screaming at him.  

Lucien wrapped her curls around one hand and pulled until she had to release him, a pathetic little moan slipping from her lips. Her eyes were wild with want. She liked her hair pulled. He put that away for later.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he began, “but where did that come from?”

Fear flooded her eyes, replacing the desire that had just burned him. Idiot, you fucking idiot, his cock threatened mutiny. Elain began to pull away as her hands fell to her side.  

“I-I’m so--”

“No,” he interrupted. He adjusted his grip, holding her tighter, giving her no room to escape. His erection dug into her hip. “Never apologize to me, Elain. I’m just…confused. Very fucking happily confused.”

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered. “That’s what you are.”

“Certifiably, sweetheart,” he chuckled. He dip his head to her neck and placed a gentle kiss there before looking back into her eyes. She watched him, half wary. “Still waiting on that answer though.”

Elain ducked her head into his chest, mumbling something incoherent. Though he could make out the word mistake.

Lucien’s heart dropped. Of course, she’d think it was a mistake. He made to drop his hands and step away. “I don’t want to be your mistake, Elain,” he hissed, a little harsher than he meant.

Her hands gripped his biceps and dug in. He met her eyes, surprised to see fear mingled with the silver tears. He lifted a hand to brush them away before they fell, the pad of his thumb resting on her cheek.

“You could never be a mistake, Lucien. You’re my choice,” Elain nearly choked out the admission. “I’ve wanted this for months. I was just…was trying to say — “

“I don’t give a fuck,” Lucien growled. He grabbed at her with more force than he meant, both hands enveloping her entire head, and crushed his lips to hers.

If he’d thought he was devouring her before, it was nothing on that moment.

The thread in his ribs sang out, going taut and…thickening? He’d try to decipher it but Elain gasped so deliciously and that was his opening. His tongue delved into her mouth once more, fucking her mouth like he would her cunt just as soon as she let him. It took Elain all of a breath to regain herself and match him.

The kiss was wild, all tongue and teeth. He was a madman. He lived and died in the space between their mouth. She bit his lip hard enough to bring blood and the taste of himself mixed with her broke him. He slid his hands under the curve of her perfect little ass and dug in, lifting her. His mouth slid from hers long enough for him to bury his face in her neck, sucking and biting the pulsing flesh there.

Lucien’s stumbled across the room as Elain’s fingers threaded through hair, pulling at the scalp. With little urging, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her robe riding up around her thighs. Lucien immediately took advantage of the exposed skin, shifting his grip until he could run calloused hands over the smooth skin revealed. She ground her hips against his erection and growled.

Elain growled at him.

Lucien was a goner. He bit her then, hard and claiming, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Elain made some noise between a whimper and a moan that stilled him. Then her hand was there on his head, urging him to continue. So he did. Licking, biting, sucking his way back up to her face. No one in his entire existence had tasted like this, had felt like this. He could come from her lips on his alone. From the feel of her heat so close to his cock. They’d barely done more than made out and he was undone. He felt like a boy groping his first pair of tits.

Speaking of, he’d yet to actually feel his mate’s breasts.

He sat on the bed, Elain straddling his lap. His hands immediately fell on her breasts over her robe. They fit so perfect in the palm of his hands, so pliant and warm. His thumbs teased and pulled at the still covered nipple. He wanted to throw her down, rip the robe from her and put his mouth on them. He broke the kiss finally, pulling her hair back, exposing the long length of her neck, already bruising from his ministrations.

Good he wanted his mark on her.

His lips immediately went to the dip of her collarbone, that damned thing that had been teasing him from behind that robe. He kissed once, twice before licking his way up her neck.

Elain kept her head thrown back in both ecstasy and submission to his hand on her breast. She ground down, straight onto his weeping, throbbing cock and moaned at the friction. Lucien whimpered, his control nearly a forgotten memory.

He let go of her breasts, hands finding the end of her robe and nightgown as he began to bunch it together, intending to rip it off her, when small hands stopped him. Disoriented, he pulled away from her. Her pupils were blown, the black covering the brown. Her cheeks were ruddy, breath coming in hot pants on his face.

Elain shook her head once. Lucien stopped immediately, bringing his hands to her back just to hold her.

“No?” His voice was low, rugged. He’d stop. He’d set her down, tuck her in his bed, go straight to the bath and stay there all night if she wished.

Elain, the tease, rocked against him again, hard. They both moaned, gasping for air as Lucien rested his forehead on hers.

“No,” she breathed out finally, stopping her hips. Lucien made to move her but Elain once again threaded her hands in his hair. This time she gripped it by the root and pulled his throat to her mouth, where she began biting all along the base.

Lucien’s eyes rolled up in his head. “Elain… you’re giving me very mixed signals here,” he growled out, head lolling to the side while she mouthed at his neck. He was going crazy, bathing in the scent of her arousal while she bit and pushed him away.

Elain slowed her kissing, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “You taste so …good,” she groaned into his skin. “It’s so hard to stop. Is it the bond? Is that what makes you so …delicious?”

Lucien chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down her spine. She was trembling, the poor thing. “No,” he whispered. “I just taste that fucking good.”

Elain laughed into his neck, her breath tickling him. The vibration of her laugh shook her core, and his cock, embarrassingly hard and wedged between them. If she did that one more time, he’d come in his pants. He was already weeping so much his linen pants were ruined.

“I’m not ready to… lie with you,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Then don’t,” he said into her hair, stilling running his hand along her spine. “There’s no rush.”

“You aren’t upset?” she looked up at him, eyes big and hopeful. How could he be upset with her? She could do nothing but kiss him like that for the rest of their lives and he’d take it.

“Of course not. I will be elated with whatever you choose to share. I am just happy to be here with you,” he acknowledged softly. “It is a far cry from you running from the room when I enter.”

She batted at his chest with an indignant yelp. “I can still run you know.”

Lucien tightened his hold slightly, just enough to draw her attention. “Run this time, little fawn and I’ll chase you,” he teased, nipping at her nose. She squeaked.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he stated, stroking her cheek with one long finger. “So…months, huh?”

Elain blushed. “Yes,” she admitted. “Since before Autumn at least, though I think it was then that I realized what exactly I wanted.”

“Which is what, Elain?” Lucien asked, half afraid of the answer.

Elain smiled, holding his face between her hands. “For now, I want to sleep in your bed. If that’s ok?”

Lucien quirked a brow, then stood, still holding her tight to him. “You have to go to your side, I’m very partial to this side,” he said as explanation while walking around the bed.

“My side?”

He nodded. “Been reserved for you for a while.”

He gently lowered her to the bed, brushing the hair from her forehead with one hand while the other pulled the coverlet up.

“Oh?” she smiled as she settled into the pillow.

“Yeah,” he grinned. He reached for her hand as he knelt by the bed. “I’m sorry…I got carried away,” he apologized, squeezing her much smaller hand in both of his.  

Elain raised one eyebrow incredulously. “Luicen, I attacked your face with my mouth.” His grin widened. “I wanted it. I still want it. There’s just…I want to do this my way. Can you give that to me?”

Lucien nodded. “There’s no limit to what I can give you.”

He’d meant it to be a romantic gesture, but perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. Elain rose off the pillow so quickly she nearly crashed into his chin. “Will you give me my own Pegasus?”

He roared a laughed. “What the hell would you do with a Pegasus?”

“I’d love him, of course,” she sniffed. “Besides it would make Nesta so incredibly jealous she’d probably scream.”

“Why Elain Archeron, you do have a little wicked in you, don’t you?” Lucien teased, brushing a kiss to her temple. He’d have to talk with Helion, find some way to wheedle or beg but Elain would get her Pegasus.

“A lady never tells,” she giggled. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Ah…not right now,” Lucien stammered. He could feel his dark skin turning a little red. He was still painfully, glaringly hard. If he didn’t take care of it now, he’d likely wind-up covering them both in his own spend in his sleep. After which, he’d have to walk off the highest cliff he could find and pray the cauldron let him have a quick death.

“I need a quick bath. To cool off,” he offered as explanation, resting his forehead to hers. “I’ll be right back. If you want me to.”

“You’ll stay with me?” She asked softly. He nodded.

“Of course, love.”

Lucien stood and turned to walk to the en suite, trying to hide the wet tent in his pants.

“Think of me in here!” Elain called out before the door closed.

***

Her side of the bed was empty, cold, her scent lingering on the sheets, his skin. He had taken a deep breath that morning, drinking the remnants of her in. Had he chased her off? If the way she was clinging to him through the night were indication, he’d say no.

Still, Lucien had woken up alone. 

She had missed the entire ceremony.

He’d thought perhaps she went to join her family. The guests had started arriving that morning. Though she seemed ready to be with him, perhaps she still wanted to hide their budding…whatever from her family. 

Still, she promised to be there for him. They were a team.

But Feyre had glided in on Rhysand’s arm, as lovely as ever in a gown of rich purples. Nesta and Cassian had arrived shortly after, each holding onto one of Morrigan’s toned arms. Elain was nowhere in sight.

Neither was the shadowsinger. Which had been a source of petty joy for Lucien until he began to wonder if perhaps that was the reason for his mate’s absence. Had Azriel held her up? Found her in some corner waiting for her family only to scent Lucien on her and whisk Elain away for safety.

Lucien had never forgotten how the winged male had actively pursued his mate. He’d tried not to hold it against the entire court, who had dangled Elain in front of him whilst one of their own slipped in behind him. Elain was free to make her own choices after all.

She still was.

Lucien growled, unable to control the slant of his thoughts.

The wedding was long over. Helion and his mother had quite literally ridden off into the sunset on the back of a pegasus while the partygoers were instructed to dance, drink, and revel for as long as they pleased.

And Elain wasn’t there.

It drove Lucien so deep in his cups he couldn’t remember his own count, nor the name of the female with the big green eyes currently trying her best to flirt with him. His mind was wrapped up too deeply with thoughts of his missing mate. Turi maybe? Yuri?

Where the hell was she? Had she already changed her mind? Was he cursed to a miserable life without her after having just learned how she tasted, the beginnings of the sounds she makes. And if that bat had her tied up…

Politics be damned, he’d gut him. Hang his wings and head from the top of the palace.

Down killer, Feyre chuckled into his mind. He tried to resist the urge to flinch and wound-up swaying on his feet. Her name’s Illya by the way. How’d you fuck that up so bad?

Lucien groaned. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

Green eyes narrowed; her painted brows furrowed together. “You’re not even listening,” she hissed with a thick accent, punctuating it with what he was sure were curses in a different language before turning heel and running off.

“That went well,” Feyre mocked. She sidled up beside him, glass of wine in hand.

Lucien tried to glare at her. At least, he was pretty sure he picked the right High Lady – there were three of them standing beside him after all. They all looked him up and down in unison. As the newly crowned Prince of Day, he had a loose robe draped across his chest, pinned over one shoulder with a golden brooch shaped like a burning sun – clothes fitting his father’s court. He wore green linen pants under the robe, however. He wasn’t sure his cock would behave around Elain, and he wanted the extra fabric between them.

A lot of use they turned out to be.

“Pretty sure you’re going to have whiskey dick at this point, my friend,” Feyre nodded to his cup before taking a sip of her own. Lucien snarled. Or, tried to, but it came out half strangled by the burp that overtook it. “Classy.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he slurred. It had been a long day and was becoming a longer night. He needed to sit down. Jerk himself to the memory of Elain’s tits bouncing in his face until he was raw and go to sleep.

“Ugh, I do not want that image in my head,” Feyre groaned, shaking her head as if it would dislodge the thought.

“Don’t go where you’re not welcome.”

“True,” she nodded. “But I was worried about you.”

Lucien slid his eyes over to his friend as he tried to grin to the one in the middle. He was pretty sure that one was actually Feyre. They were standing outside the main party, the ballroom still full despite the late hour. Cassian and Nesta were spinning in circles so tight and neat in the center of the dance floor that Lucien felt motion sick from the sight alone.

He looked away. Everyone was smiling. Happy. Enjoying themselves.

Why couldn’t he?

“Because you’re in love,” Feyre answered his thought with a whisper.

Lucien cut back to her. “I thought I just said stay out of there.”

She shrugged, completely unconcerned with the boundary she was crossing. “Still worried, Lucien. Besides I have permission.”

His mechanical eye whirred at that, tightening in on her aura. She didn’t have any unusual wards on her, nothing outside the ordinary for foreign dignitaries. At least, he was pretty sure of that. He was only 75% certain he was even staring at the right Feyre, the three fae heads still dancing in front of him. “From who,” he slurred again. “I didn’t give you any permission.”

“From me,” a soft voice came from behind him. “I asked her to.”  

Lucien whipped around, swaying so hard Feyre and Elain both had to reach out and catch him to keep him upright.  

“Are you alright?” Elain said softly. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t move or breathe. His heart was thundering in his chest.

She was here.

Elain was here.

 Finally.

He drank in the sight of her. She was glowing. Her long golden hair swept over one shoulder, one side of it with three little braids behind her ear — the exact way he wore his hair. Golden earrings dangled from her arched ears, little suns dancing by her long neck. She was wearing a beautiful, muted orange. A long gown, tight through the bodice and embroidered with tiny crimson leaves. The skirt slit all the way to her hip, showing miles of creamy white skin — scandalous. She was wearing the laced up sandals common in Alexandrina. She was dressed in Day Court style…in Autumn colors.

Lucien was speechless.

“I was going to see if you wanted to go for a walk, but…” Elain trailed off, making an exaggerated effort to look him over. She still held him by one arm, Feyre clutching the other between her tattooed arms. “What happened to you?”

“You missed the wedding,” Feyre answered for him. She was straining to hold in a smile.

Shock seemed to register on Elain’s face before she contained it, her mouth twitched. One delicate brow rose above those beautiful doe eyes. “You’re drunk? Because of me?”

Lucien could feel his face heating. He nodded his head in an attempt to shake out the cobwebs.

“Absolutely hammered,” he admitted sheepishly, leaning a bit more into her touch. He needed it. Needed the confirmation she was real and not a fever dream brought on by three full bottles of fire whiskey — and two bottles of wine. “I…didn’t think you were coming back.”

“He thought you were fucking Azriel,” a deep voice interrupted with glee. Lucien cursed.

“Rhysand!” Feyre admonished. She let go of Lucien to slap her mate’s chest with one tattooed hand. Lucien swayed before wrapping his arm around Elain. He pulled her close and tried to hold his own weight but his legs kept struggling. Elain bore the weight with a small smile.

Rhys’s feline grinned widened as his eyes glazed over from whatever Feyre must’ve told him mind to mind. He focused those violet eyes on Lucien. “I was stopping by to …”

“Be a nosy fucker,” Feyre hissed. Takes one to know one, Lucien thought loudly. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked but with the look the high lady shot him, he was certain his message got through.

“Extend an offer to return to Velaris for the evening,” Rhys continued, his grin never faltering. “The townhouse is empty. Mor tells me that Helion is planning…something for his sunrise return. And this party is one more tango from devolving into an open-air orgy. I thought I’d offer you an opportunity to escape.”

Lucien opened his mouth to…disagree he thought. At least to tell Rhysand where to shove it when Elain began nodding, vigorously.

“I didn’t…consider that,” she whispered. Then she stuck up her chin. “Yes, I think we’d like that.”

We? She caught Lucien’s gaze. “Right, Lucien?”

He’d follow her to hell if she asked. He meant to tell her. To say something profound and romantic. How he was hers to command, her loyal servant. Wherever she would go he would follow.

“I’m yours.” Well, that worked.

Elain’s answering smile was…everything.

Once, when he was a boy, his mother took him to a little cabin by the ocean. They slipped out in the earliest hours so he could dip his feet in the cool water and watched the sun rise over the waves. She held him tightly as they watched the stars blink out, one by one, the sky fade from darkest purple to orange to the brightest blue he’d ever seen.

In all his years, that was the moment he felt most loved. Even with Jesminda. Even with his friends and family.

Until Elain smiled at him.  

“Fantastic. Feyre darling?”

“I’ll take Elain. You can winnow the drunk home,” she declared, reaching for her sister’s arm. Elain gave him one last lingering look, and then they were gone.

Lucien’s thundering chest guttered at that.   

Winnowing when drunk had always been a nightmare. Something about folding the world while the senses were out of commission made him feel like he’d been dragged behind a horse running circles. Even just going across the room made him ill.

Across the courts? His clothes were not making it out of this clean.

Vomit on me Little Lucien, and I assure you, I will return the favor, Rhys’ smooth voice purred in his head.

Sympathetic puker?

A dark chuckle. Ask Cassian.

Rhys stepped up and offered his hand to Lucien at arm's length.

“Sure you don’t want to hold me a little tighter?” Lucien crooned, taking the offered hand. “What if you drop me?”

“Shit floats,” Rhys smirked. The High Lord of Night gave no warning before Lucien’s world tilted sharply.

As everything around him folded, trees and lakes and mountains blinked by faster than his eyes could truly process, Lucien held tight to the promise in Elain’s smile. Even as they were deposited in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lucien, golden brown skin turned sickly pale, immediately emptied his stomach onto the hardwood.

“Mind the shoes, please,” Rhys hummed beside him. Lucien, not entirely on purpose, puked again. The resulting splatter hitting Rhys’ black boots.

Feyre laughed somewhere in the townhouse. Lucien righted himself as the door began to open. He shot a panicked glance at Rhysand, who waved his hand nonchalantly, whisking the vomit and its horrendous smell away.

Thank you. He tried to convey.

Rhys inclined his head, a small smile playing on his lips the only indicator that he’d heard Lucien’s thoughts.

“Come on Rhys, let’s get him to the sofa, hmm?” Feyre reached for the unsteady Lucien, who graciously took her offered help. Rhys grabbed his bicep leading them through to the living room where Elain was waiting, a glass of tea in her hand.

“Try not to ruin the upholstery, please,” Rhys pleaded, depositing him on the sofa. Feyre tucked her chin into her mate’s shoulder, but not before Lucien caught the grin she was fighting. 

“No promises,” Lucien groaned and settled into the soft cushions. Cauldron, it felt so nice to sit down, even if his head was still spinning so fast he could barely keep up.

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain piped up. Lucien felt her warm presence beside him before he ever opened his eyes. Even without the bond thrumming in his chest he’d know her. Her spirit sang to him.

And here he was, so in love he couldn’t bare it, and too piss-drunk to do anything about it.

Again.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Feyre said softly as she tugged on her mate’s arm. Lucien nodded, the motion setting off another wave of nausea, as they winnowed out.

Leaving him and Elain. Alone. 

“Drink this,” his mate urged. She lifted a cup of tea to his lips and gently poured the liquid in as he opened for her. “It’s ginger. It’ll settle your stomach, at least.”

He hummed his gratitude. He kept his eyes firmly screwed shut against the low fae-light in the sitting room. He didn’t imagine this was how tonight would go. He’d hoped that it would end in a bed. Preferably with those long legs wrapped tight around his head, shaking.

Elain nudged at his head derailing his thoughts before they fell any further down the gutter. “Raise up a little…there, now come back,” she instructed as she parked herself on the couch, with his head in her lap.

Her fingers immediately went to his hair and began to brush it out, long strands gliding over her knuckles. It pulled lightly at his scalp, and he purred.

 He purred.

Elain chuckled softly, head cocked as their eyes met and held. He’d known people who considered brown eyes ordinary, unremarkable things. No, to Lucien Elain’s deep brown eyes held all the warmth of the earth after a summer rain. They were where life began and ended. Should he be so lucky to spend all his days staring into them.

While he waxed poetic in his drunkenness over the beauty of his mate’s eyes, she began to withdraw. Her hand stilled in his hair. Her eyes began to shine ever so slightly with rising tears. His heart guttered.

No, his Elain wasn’t supposed to be sad. She’d shed enough tears for this life. No more. He had to say something. Do something to stop them.

“Lucien, I’m sorry I …”

“I love you,” Lucien blurted out at the same time.

Okay, not where he meant to go, but there it is.

Elain’s eyes widened, mouth hanging open.

Lucien had always been smooth with his words. It was one of the reasons he was asked to be emissary. He could sway almost anything to his advantage, navigate inter-court relations and politics with ease, and talk his way out of damn near everything.

So, he decided to just keep going.

“I know this has never been easy between us. I know that I’m not what…what you wanted.” He winced. “I know you saw me as a villain at worst, and at best a nuisance. A sword hanging over your head. Something you never wanted but felt chained to from the moment you were poured out of that cauldron. The enemy who stood by while your life, love and everything you knew was taken from you. And I…I could live a thousand lifetimes, Elain, and I’d never be worthy of your forgiveness. Never worthy of you. I’ve always known this, but…all I ever wanted was to get to know you.”

“Lucien…” Elain’s voice was soft, emotion heavy in her throat. Lucien shook his head where it lay on her thighs.

“No, please…just let me get this off my chest.”

She searched his face for a moment before she whispered. “Alright.”

“I was so confused. So on edge, myself. I thought I’d lost my mate years before even your own father was born. I thought I’d never have a chance at that kind of love again. And there you were… all …” he choked, unable to say the words he felt upon seeing Elain poured from that cauldron. Upon the knowledge that he’d had even the slightest hand in it. “I wanted to know you, Elain. All I have ever wanted since the moment you fell out of that cauldron was time. Time to correct my mistakes. Time to beg for forgiveness.” Lucien swallowed, his mouth inexplicably dry. He ripped his chest open, baring all he was to his mate. He only had once chance at this.

And he was shitfaced.

“Mostly, though,” he began again, his voice a tad hoarser, “I wanted time to get to know you, to learn what makes you tick. What drives you to wake up in the morning. Whether you prefer the sunrise to the sunset, and if you take sugar in your tea. And I know… I know when you saw me, you only saw a monster. An unwanted burden.”

Elain began to shake her head, unshed tears threatened to spill over her eyes. Lucien was unable to raise his head up. He was barely holding in his own tears, his heart deafening in his ears. He gently cupped her cheek with one calloused hand.  

“Don’t…we both know I was never your first choice Elain. Not even your second. You’ve never…anyway, I know the bond was never what you wanted. And now that I know you, I can’t go back Elain. I can’t go back to the me who never knew your name. But…I would carve out my own heart if you wanted. I’d pack my bags tonight, leave for the continent. Waste away in some village no one has ever heard of. Fuck everything else in this life, Elain. I love you. I live or die by your word, sweetheart. Tell me to go and I’m gone. Tell me to stay…tell me you love me and I will spend every day of –”

“I love you,” she interrupted. Tears flowed freely down her face and dropped on his cheek.

Lucien snapped up though the motion brought a new wave of nausea. He gripped the back of the chair as he searched her face. She was…smiling.

She loved him? 

“For cauldron’s sake Lucien the only reason I missed the wedding was because I can’t winnow and you had to pick something so fucking difficult to get ahold of.” The curse rolled off her tongue with an ease that made him giddy. She didn’t speak that freely around the others.

Her words finally registered in his liquor addled brain.

“Huh?” Lucien, who’d given a heartful impromptu speech, was nearly speechless. Maybe he’d passed out when Rhys was winnowing him and this was all some alcohol induced fever dream.

“Oh for crying…this Lucien!” Elain exclaimed, grabbing a small box off the table beside the teacup. How long had that been sitting there?

 “I had to ask for Eris’ help to get there and he thought it’d be hilarious to drop me off on the other side of the city. Then I had to hunt down someone willing to show me the right place. I got lost three times. Then getting back was a disaster,” Elain rambled. She paused and took a deep breath.

“I asked you what your least favorite food was for a reason, Lucien,” she said softly as she began to untie the ribbon on the little black box. “This has never been easy for us. You were right, I did see you as a villain. We were raised to fear the fae, that you would steal us away in the night if we weren’t vigilant. We went against what we’d been taught, opened our home to fae and what happened? We were quite literally stolen away in the night. On two different occasions.”

Lucien winced. He so often forgot how it all must’ve been for them. When Feyre was taken by Tamlin, and then Hybern. Shame threatened to overwhelm him, and he must have flooded the bond with it because Elain paused in her unwrapping to lay a hand on his thigh.

“I know now that’s not the case, Lucien,” she said softly. “You never meant us harm. I know that…had you known, you would’ve fought against it with everything you were.”

He could only shrug, his head lolled to the side as the female he loved continued.

“And you are right, I wanted love. I wanted choice. I still do,” she admitted, courage growing as her chin came up. Elain released the ribbon from the box and grabbed his hand. She placed the box in his palm and curled his fingers over the painted wood. “I have made my choice, Lucien. But I need to know you are choosing me, not a mating bond. That you are choosing me for who I am. Not what Hybern made me, not what the cauldron gave me, not what the mother wove between us. I need to know it is Elain Archeron you love.”

She took a deep breath, let go of his hands and stood.  She walked to the other side of the room. Her hand came up over her nose.

“What…are you doing?” Lucien asked. The gears in his brain were stalled. They seemed to have slowed from the moment she admitted to loving him. They seized at that knowledge, and that his mate, his love, his life was on the other side of the damned room from him.

He began to lift the lid on the box. Oh fuck.

The smell slammed into his chest like a well-placed punch. What little was left on his stomach well on its way back up. Lucien fought to keep the gag down. His eyes watered from the effort.

“So, I present you that.” Elain’s voice was nasally as she waved her unoccupied hand to the box in his lap. He’d have remarked on how funny it was if he hadn’t been trying so hard to conserve air. “Accept this cauldron-damned abomination, and I will be satisfied for eternity knowing I am so much more to you than a bond. Because only someone in love would weather this disgusting pile of shit, mating bond or not.”

Lucien stared down at the black egg nestled in the bottom of the box. The pungent odor was just as he remembered. He wanted to die then too.

He toggled between staring at the egg and staring at Elain huddled in the corner, both hands now shaking over her face.

She wanted him. She loved him. She accepted the mating bond! No matter it was in the most…unorthodox way possible.

Gods but he loved her.  

“You really are a wicked little thing,” was all he managed before he yanked the egg from the box and shoved it in his mouth. He swallowed it whole.   

The idea was if he swallowed it whole he wouldn’t taste it. That idea was bullshit.

Lucien felt himself turn green. It was the oddest sensation. It tingled up his spine, up his stomach, alongside that thin bond that was strengthened by the second. He wanted to throw up. The only other time he’d ever eaten a century egg, he’d immediately threw it back up.

He’d be cauldron-damned if he threw it up this time. Lest it unravel that shining golden bond thrumming in his chest. Lucien didn’t know how these things worked. He wasn’t risking it.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked, words muffled behind her hands.

Lucien’s nod was strained. “I think I’m sober now, at least.”

Elain chuckled and braved the still biting odor to come close enough to shut the box up. Immediately the smell lessened, though it lingered in the room like a hateful ghost.

“How?” Lucien managed.

“Bespelled box,” Elain offered. “Eris made it for me this morning when I explained what I was doing.”

Lucien nodded. Every muscle in his body was still tensed. He gripped the couch so hard he could hear the wood groan.

“Lucien are you…” she trailed off and eased onto the cushions. She lay one hand over his on the back of the sofa, the other on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles.

“I’m fine, you beautiful terrorist,” he joked and let go of his grip on the sofa. He grinned at her. “If the trade-off were that all I had to eat for the rest of my life was that fucking thing, I’d do it with a smile on my face as long as it meant I have you.”

All tension released out of her with a sigh. “Thank the mother you don’t, then. You’d grow to hate me.”

Lucien’s smile threatened to split his face. The bond glowed in his chest. “I could never hate you, my love. I would just be very, very skinny.” He leaned in, the need to taste her becoming a living thing in his gut.

Elain shoved him back with impressive force.

“I’m not kissing you until you’ve washed your mouth out!” she exclaimed. “Between the alcohol, the vomit and that thing you could literally peel the paint off the walls, Lucien!”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged as he came to stand. His intention was to go to the washroom, brush his teeth a few dozen times and immediately pounce on his mate. Upon standing, Lucien realized he was not in fact sober, as the ceiling very quickly turned into a roiling sea.

Lucien half-turned to Elain. “Sweetheart, please don’t take this next thing the wrong way.”

“Lucien?”

Lucien dropped to his knees and vomited all over Rhysand’s precious handmade rug from Sangravah. All the whiskey he’d imbibed mixed in the most atrocious way with the century egg, the smell reminiscent of some sulfurous hellscape. It made him hurl again. His stomach contracted painfully as it betrayed him.

He was vaguely aware of the small hands that pulled his hair back at the nape.

“Do you still love me?” She giggled in his ear.

“Ugh,” he moaned. “Were I not about to die, I’d take you to a priestess and wed you tonight.”

Elain laughed. “Maybe in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[frostwing213]

I keep getting a lot of Elain stuff popping up on my dash. Mostly about shipping, and I'm like:

How'd this girl end up in a love triangle????

People are very opiniated too, fighting over and making essays about it. There's Elain/Az and Elain/Lucien (There's also Az and Gwen, but I understand how Az got in a love triangle.)

I'm just, struggling to care. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Elain, I just find her kinda boring. She doesn't do much. She feels like that classic fairytale princess that looks pretty and sad in a tower.

Off the top of my head, these are things that define her (Without being linked to men, becase I'm not there yet. Plus, a female character should be able to stand on her own without the men in her life)

She gardens and is primiarily associaed with flowers

Pretty

Nice

Weak

She kinda killed the king of Hyburn

Didn't want to be a fae

kinda wishy washy

Achreon sister

Quiet

Her sisters want to protect her

Future seeing powers

And I'm out of ideas. From my point of view, she doesn't have any discernable personality. Her three major defining things when people think of her are: Pretty, flowers, soft.

She doesn't act for herself, she doesn't speak up. She goes with what happens and gets sad when she doesn't like it. (Becoming a fae was traumatic, and I understand her reaction, but I don't really like it. AND I HAVEN'T EVeN TOUCHED ON THE GREYSON[was that the human dude's name???]THING YET!)

So, when the books start, early ACOTAR. Archeron sisters are in the woods. Feyre is the only one doing something to support the family. Who is Elain in this book? Pretty gardener. Delicate. She isn't doing anything. Some can argue Nesta isn't either, and as a Nesta Supremist, I have to say she was willing to get married to someone cruel to make it easier on her family, and although that isn't much, it's still something. What does Elain do in this book? Be pretty. Please, someone give me an example of Elain doing something constructive and I will edit it in. Please.

Moving on. Next book. She... hosts the house along with Nesta. Oh! She's engaged to a fae hating guy (Who i think is named Greyson. I can't remember and I'm currently loaning out my 2nd and 3rd book, so I can't check rn). Uh.... I don't remember if she does anything else until the end, where she is captured and dumped in the caldron. We find out Lucien is her mate. EDIT!: As @devi1sange1 pointed out to me, Elain did stand up to Nesta about using their house as a meeting spot for the queens. She also takes responisblty for how they treated Feyre. 2 points for Elain. I give her those

She shows up more after that, so I'm not doing book by book, but she gets dumped fast by her fiancé and hangs out in the house of wind, being very sad. I almost wanna describe her as floaty, because she's acting like a ghost, just existing and mourning what is gone. This is a vaild response, and I understand why she responds this way, it just annoys me because she has not shown any autonomy so far. Anything. I think I remember her asking her ex-fiance to take in humans, but that was after being pushed by the inner circle. Uh... she gives a few prophecies, yay that. When the fighting starts, she stays on the sidelines, which I don't blame her for. She kinda kills the king of Hyburn. I think that's all she does in that.

After that. What does she do? Other than hang around??? I DON'T KNOW!

Elain shows no real drive! She exists and sometimes does stuff to push the plot!

Now onto the (possible) romantic interests she has.

Greyson: Uhhhhh, they like each other. She likes her because she's sweet and pretty. I didn't catch anything else between these two. Uh, he dumps her as soon as she's fae and she gets depressed over it

Lucien: Mating bond. She doesn't like him, I get it. He tries to back off. I think Lucien acts responsibly in this situation. Elain is at no fault in this situation either. Mating bonds don't always pair up the most romantic pair, and it doesn't always work out well. Honestly, I never saw much chemistry between these two, and if not for the bond, they likely would have forever ignored each other.

Azriel: (Random, but I searched him up on tumblr because I couldn't remember how to spell his name, and WOW, there's a lot of Azriel x reader. Yall really 'like' him) How, just how did this become such a popular ship? I never even caught this on my read through. Yeah, Az is nice to her, but he's nice to anyone considered friendly. He's just as nice to Feyre and I don't see anyone shipping those two. I just... don't get it. Is it because we want the sisters paired up with the bat boys? Is that it?? I don't understand. I see no chemistry. It's just two people being nice to one another guys.

I think those are the major ones. I don't understand any of them. Lucien and Az are such powerful charters, while Elain is... 'pretty flower girl'.

I don't hate her, but she kinda annoys me with how much crazines she's getting with people shipping her. Wanna know what i think would be great? She ends up with no one romantically. She has friends, just no romantic partner and that is perfectly fine. Lucien will live. If there's nothing between Az and Gwen, then Az will live.

To wrap up, I find Elain to be a pretty boring charter, I just feel indifferent towards her. I love the other two siblings, but I feel like Elaine could have been improved.

Feel free to talk to me about this! Throw out your own opinions! Give me edvince that supports or opposes any of my points! Correct me on stuff and ignore my spelling!

I love a good debate! Give me one! Please.

Interact with me.

Edit!: Thanks for interacting! I swear I'm reading everything! I just didn't expect this to blow up so fast!

Another edit: Thanks yall for interacting! I'm really enjoying reading the responses and what people hope to see coming from Elaine in the future!

[boldlyvoid]

Where There is Love, There is Life | Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Choice | for @elriel-month 2024

Summary: Elain trains, Azriel Gossips, and Lucien learns the truth.

Warnings: made up Daglan lore, mentions of HOFAS, history of bonds, Helion and Lucien talk

Word Count: 6k | Masterlist

Sitting in Helion’s personal library once again, there is a sheet of paper, an ink well and pen, and a stack of books almost as tall as Elain. And that’s just what Helion has deemed important for todays lesson. The walls are covered in books, well, 3 of them are. The fourth is dedicated to a chalkboard adorned with thoughts, theories and numbers she doesn’t yet understand. 

“Now that we’ve gone over astrology, did you happen to get all the birthdays of your inner circle?” Helion asks, pushing the pen and paper towards her. 

“I thought we were doing numerology today?” Elain asks, realizing she never brought the sheet of paper with the dates on it. 

“We are,” he smiles. Today’s one of the rare hot days in spring, so her eyes dart from his smile to his big muscled arm that he has on show. The shirt he’s wearing can barely be considered a shirt at this point; it just covers his nipples and stomach… but she’s not complaining. 

“Then why—

“Everyone has a life path number, which you get by adding up the numbers of one birth month and day,” he continues. “The easiest way to learn how to calculate the number is through repetition. So, start with your own and then your sisters; we can move on to the bat boys in a moment.” 

The term makes her smile. She straightens her back, grabs the pen, and starts to write. “My birthday is May 16th.” 

“It is?” He lights up. “Well, we’ll have to throw you a party, then!” 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” she waves him off. “I might go home for the day.” 

He nods, “Or we could invite your court here? There is a beautiful plot of land my Pegasus frequents. It’s lush with flowers and fruit trees; I think it would be the perfect spot to celebrate you.” 

She blushes; it sounds magnificent. “If it’s not too much—

“It would never be too much,” he assures her. “Now, May is already a single number. You’ll have to add 1 and 6 together…” 

“So 5 plus 7,” she starts to write. “My number is 12.” 

“It can also be simplified down to 3,” he smiles. “Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you radiate 3 more than I’ve ever thought possible.” 

He pulls a book from the pile, flips through some pages and slides it in front of her. “See here; people with life path number 3 are creative spirits driven by their infinite imagination. Which is why the cauldron must’ve gifted you with sight. It knew you could see the wildest visions and still decode them.” 

She continues to read the pages, absorbing the knowledge— some of it does sound like her. Like not being able to pick a singular hobby but rather jumping back and forth between everything she enjoys. She would go crazy without baking, gardening and cross-stitching. An independent, free spirit, she’s not restrained by others' expectations of her. Yet, she also loves being around people. Having friends outside of her sisters for the first time has truly changed her life. She felt so lost without Nuala and Cerridwen; she misses them so much right now. She’ll have to ensure they come for her birthday and not lift a finger the whole day! They deserve a break.

“Anything sticking out?” Helion asks. 

She nods, “a few things… I’m definitely unable to stay organized. Ask Feyre; my greenhouse is a mess on a good day.” 

“Speaking of the High Lady, what is her birthday?” 

“December 21st,” she starts to write it down. “December is 12, so that becomes 3… the 21st also becomes 3, so her number is 6.” 

“Exactly,” Helion beams. “Were you this good in school, too?” 

“All 7 years that I was able to go,” she says with a sigh. “I learned what was important, my mother said that once I was married I’d only need to focus on keeping a house together. She said I’d never need advanced math.” 

Helion presses his lips together awkwardly, “Well, at least this math isn’t hard.” 

She simply flips the pages, finding the information on the meaning of 6… which is exactly how she would describe her sister. She starts to laugh at it; it’s way too accurate. 

“As a child and young adult, responsibility was always there on your 6 Life Path, but you may have rebelled against it,” she reads. “You will learn a lot about parenting in this life time. But you are also here to create, to learn that creativity has many forms, and is not confined only to creating a biological family.”

Helion smiles. “She did make a son as beautiful as her paintings.” 

“That she did,” Elain sighs, chest full of pride. 

The 6 Life Path teaches you that you are primarily accountable to yourself, that family members and relatives do not own each other, and that love thrives when it is able to flow freely in all directions.

She’s always loved her sisters and always will… however loving them became a lot easier when they weren’t all sharing a bed. Knowing Feyre is on the other side of her massive mansion of a home, knowing she could just walk to her when she needs her, that’s a blessing. Knowing Nesta is just a quick trip to the House of Wind, living her best life with people who love her, that’s all she’s ever wanted for Nesta. 

Being apart somehow brought them closer together. 

“Nesta is April 13th,” she says, starting to write once again. “4 and 4 is 8… she has an 8-pointed star on her back.”

Helion’s eyes widen, “like the lost sword Gwydion.” 

She nods, not allowing her face to change at all. It sure was still lost… it’s totally not in Nesta’s possession.

She turns back a page, finding it interesting that she and her sisters are so close in number and yet such polar opposites of each other. That’s life, though. 

“The path of Empowerment,” she reads, filled with pride, once more… it fades when she starts to read and it gets too real. 

The 8 Life Path signifies a lifetime of investing in yourself and overcoming judgments that stand between you and your strong ambitions. Modern numerology often diminishes 8’s meaning with an almost exclusive focus on material and financial matters. Yes, 8 is the number of power on the physical plain, but it is also the number of true understanding and balance, without which personal power is superficial and material gain is easily lost.

“I love her,” she whispers, trying not to cry. “She struggles in silence and lets it eat at her until that hunger needs to bite at someone else.” 

Helion nods along, “But it’s all about balance. While she may be in her head, thinking she deserves or doesn’t deserve certain aspects of her life… she’s powerful. Not too selfish, she’s able to use her hurt and her experiences to connect. She networks and organizes, and she’s convincing. I heard about her little dance with Eris last year. I saw how she captivated the high lords during the war and managed to change even Berons mind. The bad comes with the good, making her a perfect 8.”

Elain nods along, finding her smile once more. “She is… everything.” 

“Believe me, I know,” he teases. Still hitting on her no matter how long she’s been mated. “Now, do you remember the others?” 

“I believe so… they’re on my desk in my room,” she shares. 

“I’ll have someone bring them to us,” he assures, waving in a servant. 

She writes down Azriel’s. January 27th. An Aquarius, and after her lesson the other day, nothing fits better for him. He lives in his head, thinks outside the box, and has a deep sense of justice. He's an easygoing loner, and he’s an air sign. It’s no wonder he loves to fly. One of a kind with beautiful eyes, they say what they think with great eloquence… that’s her Az. 

His life path number, however, is 1. 

“Ah… of course,” Helion says as he reads over her shoulder. “One typically takes care of themselves, stand on their own two feet and always get what they want.” 

She smirks, blushing again. “He does.” 

Once again, on his page of the book, she reads everything… but it’s not right. “He’s not self-centred or insensitive?” 

“With you,” Helion reminds her. “At work, when he’s the spymaster, the shadowsinger… he has to put himself first; he has to not care because bringing feelings into an interrogation will backfire on him.” 

“I guess,” she continues to read. 

But because 1 is the first number, being at the top – being first – is your natural place. You will gain the maximum satisfaction from this energy when, instead of using it to compete, you use its pioneering vibrations to carve new roads in areas that interest you the most.

“He is the best at what he does,” she can agree with that. “Oh, and it says concentration is one of the splendid gifts a number 1 has. When he’s been given a command, he’s always so focused on getting the job done.” 

“No wonder you’re so happy,” Helion nudges her. 

She shoves him back. “Yes, and It says here: Practice the art of leadership by welcoming and encouraging your ‘following’, while confidently maintaining your position as originator and leader. Others soon realize that you will not be tricked into anything that goes against your grain or best interests.”

“That’s your man,” Helion agrees. Standing from his seat, he meets the servant at the door and takes her note. “The most powerful High Lord was born on the Eve of Samhain… when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. When magic is at its height.” 

“So his number would be…. October is 10, so that’s a 1, and 31 becomes 4, so he’s a 5,” she says with glee. “He and Feyre are just a number apart.” 

“5s are an interesting breed,” Helion hesitates, sitting back down beside her, he takes a deep breath. “They’re intense, both emotionally and sexually. Their body, mind and emotions are equipped to easily adapt to change… However, they either flourish with the change or are overwhelmed by it. 5s are able to change their inner attitudes and outer appearances to suit different circumstances” 

“That’s my brother-in-law,” Elain laughs. 

The book states: 5 is an active and unpredictable path. It is so filled with sudden and unusual events and opportunities that you sometimes become confused by it or afraid of it. Once in a while, these 5s do let go, or the 5 current becomes so strong that they are swept away into some kind of drama, only to miss the excitement of it all because they believe they are simply out of control. The freedom of 5 starts with a burning desire to live life as fully, freely, and openly as possible and to experience variety, excitement and adventure. And, of course, these desires can only come from within. Refusing to let go of what is safe and familiar so that you can discover alternatives is a large part of what causes a mistake to be repeated. And most 5s do seem to repeat the same old mistakes, often without realizing it. Admitting to your mistakes can be a battle in itself. Accept that mistakes are inevitable in your life because that is how 5s learn and prosper.

“I’m going to need a scribe to copy this for him,” Elain teases. “He could learn a thing or two.” 

Helion smirks, crossing his arms as he sits back in his chair. “Have you ever been on the wrong end of one of his decisions?” 

“Just last week,” she shares. “He thought it was okay to tell Az to stay away from me so he could keep a good connection with Lucien and the Human Queen, Vassa. Not taking into account that fact that I may want say in my future.” 

Helion nods slowly, “Sounds like Rhysand.” 

She lets it roll off her shoulders, “I settled it. He’s learning, albeit slowly, but he’s learning how to deal with the Archeron sisters.” 

“How does Cassian deal with you all? Being a Cancer and all,” he pushes the paper towards her. 

“July 9th…” she reads aloud. “That would be 7 and 9, so 16 becomes 7.” 

“Perfectionists, prone to secrecy, but as they get older, that need to protect themselves goes away,” Helion explains. “Knowing Cassian as long as I have, he had a hard time trusting people to be as good as he was; he did work while with his legion because he knew that he would be the one to get shit done right.” 

“And now he’s accepted that the rest of us are there to help him and he’s not alone,” Elain smiles softly. “What else?” She asks as she flips in the book. 

“Deep thinker, a cleaver planner… he’s the orchestrator. It’s why he leads armies and he will go down in history as the best warrior since Enalius.” 

She finds a passage that is so Cassian, she sits up straighter as she reads it: Your intuition enables you to sense and feel your way through life. Positive results will follow when you learn to rely on the combined voice of your thoughts and feelings. While others sit perplexed by a problem, you can produce the right answer, instinctively, in one intuitive flash. And once you have the solution, your intuition will take you inward and backward to show you how you arrived at it.

Helion nods along. “Numerology is one of my favourite aspects of divination. Numbers are everywhere, you’ll start noticing them more and more now that you’ve learned this.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ll notice that you look at the clock at specific times every day, without real reason. You’ll notice things come in packs of 3 or 8 or 12. You might even have numbers in your dreams…. And in visions, speaking of which, have you had any since you’ve been here?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I haven’t had one in a few weeks. They only come to me when they want to.” 

He hums, “okay… Tomorrow, I wanted to do some hydromancy, but I think it’s time we look more into clairvoyance and clairaudience. Both are extrasensory perception; the mother or the cauldron or whatever you believe in either whisper the future into your ears or show you glimpses of the future.” 

“I have had both,” she assures. “During the war, I had no idea what was happening and while I kept seeing the firebird who ended up being Vassa, the ravens were first whispered to me. I kept hearing ‘the ravens are coming’ and it confused me so much.” 

Helion starts looking around at all his personal books, reading the titles, but he cannot find what he wants. “I’m going to have a book delivered to your room tonight,” he explains. “You don’t have to read it all. However, it will be a good introduction to what we will be discussing soon.” 

She nods, “are you sure we should have a large lesson tomorrow, given that Lucien is coming?” 

His eyes widen, as if he forgot that was happening. “What if we meet here at dawn? You can join me for my meditation to get in the zone for the day and I’ll have breakfast dropped off here so we can begin early.” 

She nods, “I would like that.” 

—

Azriel’s shadows are like a second skin to him after 500 years. He almost doesn’t notice when they come and go, not until they’re whispering secrets and warnings to him. It takes a while for him to realize that his shadows disappear around Elain. They can find her, they can follow her if he asks, yet when she’s close, they leave. He’s not sure if it’s for privacy or because they know he’s completely safe with her… out of everyone in the world, Elain is the only person he’s truly safe with. 

When he returns to the day court, his shadows simply say that she’s in the library and dissipate. 

He heads to the main library, the first of many in the day court, the closest to the palace. Inside, he can’t scent her over the smell of old books… yet there is a hint of Ash. His shadows come rushing back, worried for him after everything he’s been through in the last few years. He’s been hit with more ash arrows and faebane in the last 3 years than he has in his whole life, which is saying something. 

He follows the smell, a hand on the truth teller as he approaches an alcove. He knows the female sitting at the table, at least from what he can see of her over the stacks of books: Nuan, the Alchemist from the Dawn Court. He knew she’d be here; she had been here all week, researching the Ash family to see all that it could do to the Fae. 

He clears his throat, alerting her to his presence and making her jump in her seat slightly. “Oh, hello, Lord Azriel.” 

He grimaces, shaking his hands, “Please, it’s just Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” she settles with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

He shakes his head, “I was looking for Elain, I think I have the wrong library.” 

“Ah,” she smiles, having guessed that the high lady’s sister and the spymaster were together. “Well, since you’re here, I have a question.” 

He approaches her, standing beside her work table, “What can I do for you?” 

“I’ve come across a book on the Daglan, the history of the start of Prythian and old folklore,” she explains. “Do you know anything about how they were conquered?”

Az takes a deep breath and assesses if he should tell her. Rhys would be pissed… not as pissed as when Nesta gave Bryce the mask, but still pissed. If answers come from this, however, he might not stay mad for long. 

So Az takes a seat. 

“Where do I even start,” he can’t help but laugh. 

He started when Bryce arrives, explaining their trip to the prison and the history they uncovered. Theia and her daughters, the Daglan, the portals to other worlds… how they concurred worlds and were overthrown only twice and finally destroyed by the portal-jumping half-fae who stole his dagger. He explains how the Daglan corrupted the cauldron and created the monsters now locked in the prison in the night court…. And how the same portals they used to jump worlds brought in the beasts that hunt in The Middle. Beings like the kelpie, the weaver and whatever Amren was before the war. Even Koshcei. 

“Cauldron almighty…” she swears, jaw dropped as her eyes wander, thinking a mile a minute in her mind. “Do you know how they corrupted the cauldron?” 

He shakes his head, “not fully. The original 8 Asteri— that is the Daglan’s true name. They pooled their power together and imbued it into the cauldron… they made the dread trove as well as Gwydion and Truth Teller.”

“Did you learn how to fix it?” Nuan asks, begging for answers just as he did that day he learned all this. “Learn why they did it?”

“No, I did, however, allow one of my shadows to go with Bryce to Midgard. The Asteri, when they were here, there was a tithe to absorb a percentage of our power; in Midgard, they created a parasite to infest the water and stifle their magic until they came of age. The coming of age ceremony was called the drop, once they partook they gave a portion of their power to the Asteri and their powers were unlocked. They were not as powerful as they could be, but they were just enough to live a long, long life. Those who didn’t partake faded away into nothing with age, like a human would.”

“And Bryce defeated them?” 

He nods, “She almost died in the process… which is another way the daglan took power. The power they took in the drop was called first light, the power they take after death is called second light. Once they took it, they didn’t get to go to the forever resting place some believe is out there. They became nothing.” 

Nuan slumps in her seat. Rubbing her hand over her face. “This is so much bigger than a family of trees…” 

Az laughs, “believe me, it was a lot to take in when it was happening. Now, we’re left with the knowledge and no way to fix the cauldron. We don’t even know in what ways they corrupted it; what they changed.” 

“The cauldron holds water,” Nuan reminds him. “They might’ve gotten the idea for the parasite from what ever they did to the cauldron.” 

He hums, thinking about it. “Are you coming to dinner tonight in the great hall?” 

She nods, “why?”

“Elain might be able to tell you about what the water in the cauldron was like,” he explains. “Seeing as she was the first one dunked into it, and she was blessed by it…” 

“Unlike the other sister who stole from it,” Nuan knows. The whole of Prythian knew that the oldest Archeon sister was to be feared for what she did that day. They just don’t know she gave the power back.

“Would I be allowed to see the cauldron?” She asks. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “Rhys and Feyre will be here in a few days, they, and Helion, can discuss if it’s a safe option for you.” 

She nods, agreeing. “I appreciate the help today. I um… I figured out something, I think it’s something you and Lady Archeron would like to know.” 

“Go on,” he pulls in even closer, anxious to know what she’s uncovered in her days of research. 

“While Ash wood can kill us, the blooming leaves of the Ash tree can be used as a tea. The Daglan did awful, horrific experiments on the fae, all of which were recorded… ingesting the leaves doesn’t maim the drinker. Instead, it gifts them with dreams of their one true love. The Daglan put a stop to the tea the moment they found out what it could do, and now I’m guessing it’s because they corrupted the cauldron to change how bonds work. The dreams would show a true love match; the cauldron now wants powerful offspring because the Dagaln fed from them for so long.” 

It all hits Azriel like a brick wall. “So if I take the tea…” 

“You’ll know the truth,” Nuan smiles. “So will Lady Archeron.” 

—

Feyre and Rhys arrive with Lucien right at noon, greeted by Elain and Helion in the golden courtyard. Helion’s hand is on Elain’s back, and she glances at him, noticing he’s holding his breath while staring at his son. Taking in all his features, noticing all the parts that are himself and what parts are Lucien's mother…, his heart breaks when he sees the scar on his face, knowing there are more scars he keeps inside. 

“Welcome!” Elain takes over for him, breaking away from Helion to meet with him. “Lucien, it’s nice to see you.” 

Surprisingly, she opens her arms and brings him in for a hug. 

He’s a bit shocked, but accepts. Holding her close, smelling Azriel on her. He pulls back with concern on his face, “Did the shadowsinger fly you in?” 

She shakes her head, “he’s been staying here during my training, assuring I stay safe after what happened with the cauldron the last time I started looking for answers.”

It's not a lie, just not the whole truth, either. 

“In your bed?” He chuckles, “I was wondering when you’d finally get together.” 

“You wouldn’t be upset about it?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t own you; you’re free to make your own choices. I’ve been alive for over 300 years; you haven’t. I’d like to see you make your own choices and mistakes and find happiness.” 

She pulls him in for another hug. " Oh, Lucien, thank you! I expected you to want to follow the cauldron's orders.”

Lucien soaks in the hug, eyes closed as he holds her. “This is the one time I’m not going to blindly follow someone's orders. I’ve learned my lesson.”  

“It’s also why we’re here,” Rhysand says from behind them. “We’ve learned quite a few things about the cauldron, things that you should be made aware of.” 

“The uh, the dining room is all set up for lunch if you’d care to join me in there for this meeting,” Helion finally speaks. “It’s lovely to have you here, Lucien.” 

He reaches out his hand for Helion, “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve always loved visiting the day court.” 

They all agreed it’s completely up to Helion when he tells Lucien; if he ever tells him. This meeting is about the information Nuan found in her research, how to find one's true love and what the Daglan did to mating bonds. 

They gather around the dining table and fill their plates with sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables with dips, cheeses and meats. Its a wonderful spread that his kitchen staff makes on the regular. Elain is going to have to start incorporating these into her own meal rotation at home. 

“What is it you wish to tell me,” Lucien asks between bites. 

Rhysand looks to Elain and then Helion, “Who would like to explain?” 

“I can,” Elain assures, putting down her sandwich and taking a sip of her bubbly wine first before continuing. “Last spring, we had an unexpected visitor in the Night Court. She jumped from her world to ours thanks to the Harp— the 4th forgotten item from the dread trove.”

Lucien's eyes widened. “Is world jumping real? I thought it was a myth?” 

Elain sighs, “It’s very real. You need specific items to do it the right way. However, Bryce was brought here to learn more about her heritage. She was the original Queen Theia’s long-lost ancestor… it turns out that Theia killed Fionn, took the trove and opened a portal to another world that the Daglan had overtaken after they were kicked from our world. There, Theia confirmed that the Daglan, now the Asteri, are just power-hungry monsters who feed off our power. When they were here, they used the cauldron to create deadly weapons, horrible monsters they could hunt for sport, and they corrupted the cauldron to ensure that mate bread more powerful beings they could feed off of.” 

“Holy shit,” Lucien can’t believe it. 

“Nuan, who fixed your eye,” Elain continues, waiting for Luciens mind to catch up, he nods. “She has been doing research for us. The wood of the ash tree is deadly for us, however the Ash tree is a cousin of the olive tree…” 

She picks up an olive with her fork and eats it, “how can one thing kill us and the other be so delicious?” 

“That is a fascinating question,” Feyre says under her breath. 

“Nuan discovered that the Daglan discovered a tea that would allow for the taker to dream of their one true love and those who were able to could then Scry to find them,” she continues with a large smile. “Before the Daglan corrupted the bonds, all mates were assigned together for the purpose of true and happy love. They outlawed the tea because they didn’t want true love bonds anymore, they only wanted powerful offspring.” 

“Are you saying we aren’t a true love bond?” Lucien clues in, shoulders slumping. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t a strong love, I just didn’t expect it to not be true love.” 

Elain shakes her head, feeling sorry for having to break the news to him, “no, the Daglan would collect a tithe from us, taking 10% of our power that we willingly gave to them each year. They wanted a way to still take 10%, they just wanted a stronger 10% so they corrupted the cauldron to make mates who would produce powerful offspring that would satiate them.” 

“Like my parents and Tamlin’s,” Rhysand adds. “They did not love each other; they have just been born through the generations to continue to make powerful children, even after the Daglan left.” 

“How do we fix it?” Lucien asks. 

“We’re still working on that,” Helion jumps in. “Elain is still learning all that she can do with her power so we can attain more answers.”

“So far, I’ve learned basic divination, meditation and relaxation, tarot, astrology, and my favourite has been numerology,” she beams at him. “When is your birthday?” 

“Um, October 3rd,” he shares. “My mother tried to have all of us in the autumn.”

Helion stares at his plate, moving around his side salad and not saying anything. 

“So that would make you a life path number 4,” Elain explains. “Life path number 4’s spend most of their life looking for their true identity. You find accomplishment through hard work. You have great self-discipline. 4 teaches the value of determination, effort, simplicity, and dependability.”

He nods along, slowly taking it all in. “That… that sounds right. What would someone born on January 1st be?”

“A 2,” Elain answers without missing a beat, making Helion smile. 

“She is the best student I’ve ever had,” he compliments, staring right at Feyre. “I don’t want to give her back.” 

“I’ll come visit you,” Elain assures him. 

“What does 2 mean?” Lucien wonders, something like urgency on his tone.

“Um,” she looks to Helion for a bit of support. He nods his head slightly, reminding her that she’s got this. “the energy of 2 does not seek to control but to achieve balance. Those born on the 2 Life Path have the potential to lead the way for humanity through their refined powers of persuasion, their ability to inspire on an emotional level, and most importantly, their desire to bring equality and peace to this planet.”

Lucien blushes slightly, looking down at his plate. “She is going to change the world.” 

“Who?” Feyre asks, sitting up straighter. Happy for her friend.

“Vassa,” Lucien beams. “Don’t tell her, but I’m— I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

Elain places her hand on her heart, “This is wonderful news, Lucien!” 

“Thank you. I’m excited to take this tea now, to see if my true love match is her… even if it isn’t, even if it was Jesminda, I still want to be with Vassa.” 

“We’re still looking into her curse,” Helion assures him. “I’ll do anything I can to help you get to keep her.” 

“Thank you, Helion,” Lucien smiles. 

They look so similar it blows Elain’s mind. How does he not see it? It should be like looking in a mirror for him. 

“The teas will be delivered to our rooms tonight,” Elain assures. “We are all taking it. Some has even been sent back to Nesta and Cassian to check. Morrigan and Amren are taking it as well.” 

“What does this mean for you two?” Lucien asks Feyre and Rhys. 

They look at each other and smile. Rhys is quick to hold her hand above the table, “we know the truth. This love we have between us in unbreakable.” 

“I personally believe that the reason why mating has become so hard. People were shocked to find out that all 3 of us were mated so soon after becoming fae. It’s unheard of for a whole family to find a mate.” Feyre adds. “The Cauldron picked up to help it. I think the cauldron misses when it was dedicated to giving out love and life to these lands.” 

“So we bring it back,” Helion announces, holding up his glass. “No matter what it takes, we bring true love back to Prythian.” 

Everyone raises their glasses in response, dedicated to the task at hand. 

—

That night she sits in bed beside Azriel, a mug of steaming tea in both of their hands. “Are you sure?” She asks. 

“I want to know… even if it’s not you; even if I’m meant for no one, I want to know and love you anyway,” Azriel assures. 

“And if we do dream of each other?” 

Azriel’s eyes soften; he’s more beautiful than ever before. “Then we’ll know why we’ve wanted one another so badly.” 

“Do you think this tea will make us tired or just aid in our dreams when we do fall asleep?” She asks. 

A knowing smirk grows on his face, “Why?” 

She takes another sip and places her almost empty cup on her night table; Azriel follows her lead and does the same. She quickly straddles his hips, hands on his shoulders, “because I would like to remind you just how badly I’ve wanted you all this time.” 

—

Elain and Azriel are the last to arrive at the breakfast table the nest morning. Hand in hand, matching smiles plastered to their faces. 

They dreamt of each other last night. 

Feyre is sitting in Rhys’ lap, being hand-fed cantaloupe while Lucien laughs. Helion shakes his head with a smile. "Well, I take it you had good dreams?” the golden High Lord asks.

Elain nods, “We had the same dream… us and our daughter playing in the grass behind our home on the Sidra.” 

Feyre places a hand to her heart, “the same girl you’ve seen before?” 

“You’ve seen her before?” Azriel can’t believe it. 

Elain nods, “We adopt her from Illyria, seeing as I can’t have babies for us.” 

Azriel kisses her head, “we’ll create the family we deserve.” 

They take a seat side by side, across from Lucien, “So, what did you dream of?” 

“Fire,” Lucien explains, smile building. “Blinding, bright fire that took over all my senses.” 

“Your firebird,” Feyre swoons. 

He nods, overjoyed with love in his eyes, “My firebird… Helion, who did you see?” 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “I saw my mate… Seraphina.” 

“That’s my… mother’s—“ Lucien blinks in understanding. “What?” 

Helion simply nods. “I met her a year before she was betrothed to Beron. We met again during the great war, and… we had a love affair that lasted over a hundred years. Beron never knew, not until the end, when she became pregnant.” 

Lucien's mechanical eye closes in on Helion, studying him. “You’re… my father?” 

Helion nods. “I didn’t know. Not until last week.” 

“Does my— does Beron know?” 

Helion shrugs, “I’m not certain. However, his level of cruelty to you, from what I’ve heard, could be explained by knowing you’re not his blood.” 

“Then where does—

“Your mother was sold to your father to ensure that the fire in her veins passed on to all his children. He wanted the strongest brood and would do anything to get it.” 

“Why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t you challenge him?” Lucien begs, “You know he hurts her, and you do nothing?” 

“What do you do?” Helion challenges him right back. “Beron is not a man I would like to mess with unless absolutely necessary. Your mother asked me not to intervene. She asked me to let nature take its course, and she said when the time was right when he died, she could come back to me.” 

Lucien just shakes his head, “I wish he would die tomorrow.” 

“We all do,” Rhys murmurs, reminding the men that there are others in the room, still. 

Lucien calms, shaking his head as it all settles around him. “So I’m… I’m heir to the day court?” 

Helion nods, “you are… I’ve heard your fire is bright, almost white. That you can winnow and you run like the wind. I wonder if there’s more light to you, if when you become truly happy... if you’ll glow like myself and Feyre do.” 

“I’ve…. I’ve glowed,” Lucien admits. “I thought it was… I’m not sure what it was.” 

Clearly lying, he doesn’t seem comfortable enough to share. 

“How about we leave you two,” Elain announces, standing with her plate now filled with food. “My chambers have a sitting room; we can move there. Let them bond.” 

“Fantastic idea,” feyre is quick to her feet, feeling just as awkward as everyone else. “I’d love to hear more about your dreams.” 

@greenleaf777 @lostvillainess

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[redbleedingrose]

okay hear me out, u and lucien r in love. mates if you will. everyone knows it apart from the two of you - in fact u find each other so excessively obnoxious even though there isnt any serious reason for it. you argue and tease and fight constantly, but you also bring each other so much genuine laughter and being in the same vicinity as him - and him as you - immediately calms and relaxes each other. even if it leads to play fighting. youre both so content with the dynamic you have going on that even when you get jealous of elain looking at him for a moment too long, or when he gets irritated by you giving azriel a hug when youre upset, neither of you move to do anything - rather you choose to ignore it. at least until you get hurt and lucien quite literally goes berserk bc he doesnt know if youre okay or not and then and only then does he decide that his feelings, whatever they are, definitely cannot be ignored.

DAMN I JUST KEPT GOING IM SORRY- i j needed to share with SOMEONE its been eating me alive i stg

OH MY GOD?!?!?!?!

Tell me why this ask had my heart pitter pattering in my chest!!??!!!

No because you and Lucien are SOOO annoying!!!

It is literally so obvious to everyone except you two.

And I mean everyone.

Even Lucien's favorite little babes, Marwa and Twila have asked their mama, Lucien's favorite sister in law, if Uncle Luc is gonna marry their favorite Auntie (who happens to be one of Mama's best friends), in front of Uncle Luc and their papa.

Eris cackled at his babes, picking them up, squeezing them into his chest, and pressing kisses into their chubby cheeks, sending a mocking wink to Lucien who rolls his eyes because why the hell does everyone think you and him are in love??

You just hang out together sometimes...

all the time

Okay so it started off innocently. In honest truth, Lucien didn't even like you at first. He watched with envy as Marwa and Twila ran towards you instead of him to capture you in a hug that nearly knocked you over.

They are supposed to be his nieces??? They are supposed to run to him???? What the fuck is so good and exciting about you, besides the fact you are stunningly beautiful???

So Lucien, ever the courtier, struts over to you, and introduces himself, finally catching your name.

It suits you, he thinks to himself

And as dinner is served, he finds himself seated next to you... so obviously he has to keep the conversation going because he is a gentle-male??? And that is the polite thing to do...

Definitely Not because he wants to know more about you.

And you know when you meet someone and you have this wrong initial first impression, but as you continue to talk to them, your entire perception becomes warped?

That is how poor Lucien felt

You talked the entire night, teasing each other left and right, picking fights just to see the other get flustered.

Anytime either of you walked off to talk to someone else, one of you would ineviteably end up drifting back to them to continue the teasing conversation where you left off

And that night...

It was the beginning of a beautiful, wondrous friendship. situationship

One that Lucien cherishes, one that he never wants to mess up or let go of. your friendship situationship is easy. It is comfortable. Him softly tossing you onto the couch, you gently yanking at his hair, him pushing your shoulder as you walk together, you kicking at his feet under the dinner table. Your obnoxious teasing settles him, it settles his heart. It is so easy for you two. It is easy for Lucien. And it is easy for you. Because it is never serious, only playful. Because you don't cross each others boundaries. Because outside of the play fighting has been deep conversations that have delved into your trauma and his trauma. Because outside of the play fighting, you understand each other. Your situationship is easy because Lucien feel genuine peace around you... peace that he hasn't felt since Jesminda

From the outside, it is so clear that he is down bad for you.

Because when you aren't teasing him, he is gazing at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes, begging for your attention.

Because when you aren't kicking at his feet under the dinner table due to you being too engrossed in your conversation with Azriel, his cheeks become ruddy with frustration and he cannot control the scowl that tightens the muscles in his face

And gods, you don't spare a glance at him when he nudges your shin, trying to grab your attention.

Part of him knows this is just a tactic to mess with him.

And it shouldn't mess with him...

But it does

He huffs, focusing on the glass of whiskey in his hand, turning it up to swallow in one gulp, allowing the sweet burn to distract him.

But if that is how it is... if that is how you want it to be... if Azriel is the one who makes you this intrigued, if he makes you that happy... then who is he to stand in the way? You are only friends? All Lucien knows is that he doesn't want to lose you. The best thing that has happened to him in his entire lifetime.

So if that means he has to let his jealousy fester, find peace with you and Azriel talking, then that is what he will do.

Gods, you are just talking to him. It is not even that serious, Lucien thinks to himself, irrate with the shadowsinger's uncanny ability to make you giggle.

"Hello Lucien," a soft gentle voice reluctantly pulls Lucien's gaze away from you

Elain.

He half-heartedly continues the conversation with the female, letting her fill his glass with two fingers of whiskey malt.

And thats how the night continues...

He talks to Elain, letting her stare at him unabashedly.

He smirks to himself when he feels a soft nudge at his foot halfway through the night, turning his entire body towards Elain and nodding to whatever speech she was giving about the flora she was cultivating in the garden of Rhys and Feyre's home.

Because two can play it that game

And you feel a sharp stab at your heart when Lucien ignores you, feeling a bit sorry for your earlier teasings, now that the tables were turned on you.

And you know that this is probably Lucien giving you what he got, finally getting his chance to annoy you this evening

But from where you are sitting...

He looks like he is enjoying himself.

Returning smiles at Elain's shameless staring, nodding to her rambling, adding his own anecdotes in a soft voice.

A soft voice he never used with you

So what if he is enjoying himself?? So what if he likes Elain?? So what if he talks to her... and touches her... and kisses her

Ugh, you are only friends with Lucien. You have no right to feel the way you feel right now.

Seething with jealousy

Frustrated that Lucien is winning at your own game

So when Morr asks you to accompany her to Rita's tonight, you don't turn down the offer.

Even though you are supposed to return with Lucien to Autumn tonight to watch Marwa and Twila while Eris and his wife have a private night at their seaside cottage.

Lucien's head snaps towards you, almost giving himself whiplash in the process as he glares holes into the back of your head as you pull on your burgandy coat

Part of him wants to take you by the arm, and drag you home, tired of the games you both were playing tonight. But he didn't. He didn't call out your name to stop you. He didn't drag you home like he wanted to. He didn't stop you. He let you go. He let you walk out.

A fact that has the male wanting to burn himself alive a couple of hours later, when Morr winnows back carrying your passed out form in her arms, yelling at the top of her lungs for a healer as blood seeps out of a gash on your forehead

He moves so fast towards where Morr is holding you, she flinches at his sudden appearance, her grip on you loosening as he reaches and craddles you into his chest as Rhys winnows in with Majda, who demands the youngest Autumn heir to set you down onto the couch.

He is panicking, heart racing, head spinning, everything that is being said at him is fading into a background of ringing in his ears.

He stares, nauseous, as Majda begins her work, snapping himself out of his stupor as rage fills him.

Who dare hurt you? Who dare touch you?

The urge to vomit the bile that has risen in his throat only enhances as he hears a soft moan of pain pass between your lips, still unconicous to your surroundings

He turns towards Morr, who is staring helplessly at your form, all his rage suddenly directed towards her.

How dare she let this happen to you?

He is in total disarray, there is not controlling his emotions right now. Lucien yanks Morr towards him, not enough to hurt her, but enough to direct her attention to him, Azriel charging to pull her away, but not before Lucien can scream, "What the fuck happened to her?"

The poor female bursts into tears, resting her head on Luciens chest, "I don't know... I only left her for a moment... Oh gods, I am so sorry."

Regret floods through Lucien as Morr cries into his chest, and he moves to wrap his arms around her in a hug, rubbing at her shoulder until she is calm enough to pull away

But his thoughts aren't on Morr.

His regret isn't felt at yelling at Morr.

His regret is directed at you.

You. His best friend. His favorite being in the entire world. His favorite being to ever exist. He was the one who let you go. He was the one who didn't come to find you after you left, even though it had gotten too late into the night. He was the one who made you leave in the first place.

And in that moment. In that moment, he realized that he couldn't do this anymore.

The holding back. The fear of losing you if he tried to be anything more with you.

Because what if he loses you tonight? What if he loses you without telling you how he feels about you?

So when Majda is done, and she informs Lucien that you will be just fine with some rest, that your wound was only surface level and did not result in a concusion... he waited

He waited next to you, holding your hand throughout the night, resting his head right next to yours as you slept, letting one of his fingers trace your nose and lips before pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead, begging Mother above to have you wake up before his courage wears out

When you wake the next morning from snores coming from the fae right next to you, you find Lucien's long hair is practically in your mouth.

You grin, pushing his head slightly, jerking back when his head snaps up, glancing around, eyes wild.

A belly laugh erupts, "Oh Gods Luc, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you that bad."

And Lucien just stares down at you, incredulous that you are seriously playing games right now. After what happened last night.

You pause at Lucien's silence, awaiting his scolding for waking him up this early and so abruptly, but he just stares down at you.

"What the fuck happened last night?" he practically growls, unamused by your teasing

And then it all comes back. Slamming into you.

The male next to you. His nose had started bleeding perfusly. Like seriously, it was insane. And the sight of the blood dripping down his nose and onto his shirt had you feeling whoozy.

And the next thing you know...

You're waking up to Lucien's mane in your face.

Oh Gods, you must've fucking passed out and hit your head against the table when you fell.

Your entire face and neck flushes as you stare back at Lucien, not knowing how to respond without sounding like a complete fool.

You try coming up with an excuse, but your brain is still foggy from the slam against the table, and you are coming up empty.

So you lay there... gaping up at Lucien.

Totally not noticing the way the sun is making his golden skin glow... Totally not noticing the way his hair looks lucious for someone who slept in a slumped position the entire night... Totally not noticing his pink lips being so close to yours, that if you lean up, you could absolutely steal a kiss...

"Uhh.."

Thank the mother above Lucien doesn't let you finish, "I love you."

The words take a moment to register.

The initial feeling of thanks you were giving to Lucien for not forcing you to tell him how you made a complete fool of yourself is replaced with shock.

You were stunned.

The female was too stunned to speak. Literally.

"I have loved you since the moment I met you. And I can't believe I waited this long to tell you. But I was afraid. I was afraid of losing you. But Gods, I almost lost you last night. And mother, if I had?? I don't think I would be able to live with myself. I wouldn't be able to live without you. You are my drive. You are my hope. My reason to get up in the morning. My reason to live. I love you. I love you. I love you."

His speech comes out fast.

But you catch every word. And you hold it close to your heart.

And then you feel it. And so does he. A bond. A golden thread coming to life between you two. A thread that ties your hearts together, humming at the unbrideled joy you are feeling.

You shut your eyes, savoring this moment. Wanting to live in it forever.

"Are you okay, sweets?" Lucien asks you in such a soft, gentle voice, his hand coming to rub at your hair, pointedly avoiding the stitches.

A singular tear slips down your cheek, hot and fast, "I am perfect Luc. And I fucking love you too."

You push yourself up, your face a centimeter from his, staring into his amber eyes, his mouth wide open in shock. Your tongue slips out, licking at his upper lip.

A gasp barely escapes from his lips as he slides his arms around your waist, and you are fully pressing your lips into his.

Anyway... you tell Lucien what happened last night a couple hours after he fucks your brains out. And he cackles at you. For like ten minutes. To the point his entire face has gone red because he cannot breathe. As you lay there with your arms crossed grumpily across your chest, glaring at him for laughing at you.

Don't worry though, he gives you six orgasms in apology

At least it makes for a good story, and explaination, for when you go both go home to a pissed off Eris and his clearly amused wife.

And it has his favorite babes, Marwa and Twila, screaming at the top of their lungs that they are gonna be flower girls for Uncle Luc's mating ceremony with their favorite Auntie.

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {I}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Please be sure to read the trigger warnings before reading the chapter or any chapter from this story! I hope you all enjoy reading these chapters as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Writing this fic has been a coping mechanism of sorts. Please like, drop a comment, or reblog if you wish. x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

My Dearest Sister,

I must apologize for Feyre’s absence in this letter. She is angry with you after your previous words and says that Isaac Hale is more of a man than you will ever realize. Now, I know nothing of their relationship so I cannot chime in, but even with her in a bitter state, I wanted to reply to your kind and loving words.

I’m so pleased that your life with Tomas is so grand. It’s like a fairytale, one we read of when we were young. You’re like Cinderella, saved by a prince that could give you the world. I can only hope that I, myself, find such a happy ending one day.

You were right in your speculations. Greysen and I are no more. He’s promised to another, in fact. They shall be married this season and although I understand - she is a beautiful lady of society, you see - I have still cried myself to sleep each night for a month. There is no need for you to come protect my honor. He has made his choice and it is one that I must live with. By the Mother’s grace, I shall move on. 

Do you think that there is a time when I can come visit you? A ball sounds so exciting. What are they like? I imagine lovely treats and drinks and magnificent dresses. Oh, and lovely music where couples dance until wee hours of the morning. I’ve been practicing my dances, although I have very few opportunities to use such knowledge around here. I hope to attend events this season to show my newfound skills. My favorite is the waltz. How romantic! 

Tell Tomas we say hello. Feyre, although angry, sends her love. So does father. We miss you, dear sister. I hope to hear from you soon.

Your sister,

Elain 

Nesta 

“Undress.”

I notice my husband comes into my room but he waits ten minutes before saying a word. Of course, the first word he says is demeaning, but I do not have the right to refuse him. Even so, I pretend to read my book for another moment, although there is no use in reading. The air is too thick when he is present to read. Even my escape becomes nonexistent. 

“Nesta.”

My name on his lips feels wrong. There is no awe in it, no love. There is only a hint of annoyance. Reluctantly, I place a ribbon between the pages of my novel and close it shut. 

“Apologies, my lord,” I say. I hardly recognize my own voice. “It is hard to put down a story so captivating.” 

“Ah,” he says, chuckling, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “I should have known, my headstrong wife. Come. Undress.” 

I am only in my nightdress, and it hardly hides a thing, but I don’t say as much. What’s one more layer gone? 

When I stand, I feel I am no longer in my body. I feel like an outsider, watching myself from a distance with an empty space where my heart should be. I hardly notice his eyes on me as I slip my shift off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I stand before him, bare and unfeeling, glad he is only looking and has yet to touch. 

I know the peace will not last long. 

He approaches me. 

As he begins stripping off his shirt and trousers, I lay back down in the center of my bed and wait. I find a spot on my ceiling, a spot next to the golden trim where it seems a spark flew too high out of the fireplace. I focus on the spot, then my breathing, and as my husband crawls on top of me, I force my body to relax.

As he pushes into me, that spot becomes my anchor. 

I did not want to marry Tomas. The truth of the matter is that I would have married anyone, and I probably would have hated every man pushed in my direction just as much as I hate Tomas. I have yet to meet a man worthy of anything other than disdain that has a title to his name and although me marrying a man with a title, with money, was necessary, I know that I would’ve been happier marrying a man that had absolutely nothing. 

I’ll never know.

We were wealthy once, when my mother was alive, but after her death everything seemed to fall apart. My father made a series of poor business decisions and it left us with nothing. It wasn’t until Lord Tomas Mandray visited our village for a weekend last Autumn that our luck changed. We were in the right place at the right time and he took notice of me. My father negotiated our marriage and that was that.

I had no say in the matter. Yet, I would stand by every time, would let it happen all over again if given the chance. My sisters are cared for, thanks to my husband’s generosity. As is my father, but I could care less about his happiness, if I may be so blunt. He has never given a damn about me. Why should I feel any differently? 

Above me, Tomas grunts. It’s a horrible noise, recurring, until his body grows tense, releasing inside of me. I keep still. The stiller I am, the quicker this ends. 

He collapses on top of me and catches his breath. I lay there, flat on the mattress until he rolls off of me and rises from the bed, redressing. I do not move until he’s gathered all of his garments and walks toward the door, his exit.

“I’m going to the club,” he says, and that’s it. The door shuts behind him and I’m being enveloped in the silence. For a moment, I cannot move. I continue to stare at the spot on the ceiling, its grand display becoming a comfort to me. I let Tomas’ release drip out of me, unsure if I want to become with child or not. A child would be a blessing, an heir, my duty, but it would also be Tomas’s, and there is a part of me, a selfish part of me, that does not want to progress his bloodline. Perhaps a man as brutal, as demeaning, as execrable as him should not reproduce. I know that children are not their parents, but I also know Tomas. 

The air suddenly becomes brisk against my bare skin but I can’t bring myself to move. When I move, I’ll have to get up, I’ll have to clean myself, I’ll have to redress and pretend as if everything is fine. 

Nothing is fine. Fine is irrelevant. 

The spot on the ceiling begins to blur and I cannot tell if I am crying or my eyes have simply given up. Either way, I feel nothing. I’m not certain how long I lay there, how many minutes or hours pass, but the sky outside remains dark as time goes by, dismissing my emptiness into nothingness. I pray to the gods, the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone who is willing to listen to give me an ounce of strength. 

I’ve no clue what time it is by the time I finally convince my feet to move, finally convince myself to rise and cleanse the remnants of my husband’s seed from my body. When I lay down again, I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep until it finally claims me.

~.~.~

Cassian

The numbers are not where they should be. 

I’ve gone over this month’s pages twice now and I feel a sense of panic rising up inside of me so I pour a drink, then another, until the numbers no longer scare the shit out of me. I’ve only started feeling the joyous buzz when the door to my study bursts open and my two closest friends, my brothers, stride through the door, unwelcomed and not caring. 

“Get up!” Rhysand says, grinning in that way that I equally love and hate. The grin that says something terrifying is about to take place. “We’re going out.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“You work too much,” Azriel mutters, plopping down on a settee against a far wall. “And that’s coming from me.” 

“I’m trying to build an empire to pass onto my children,” I defend.

Rhysand barks a laugh. “What children? First you need a wife and you won’t find that sitting on your ass alone every night.”

“It’s late,” I say, but it’s more of a groan as I let my face fall into my hands. 

“It’s not even midnight,” Rhysand mutters, shaking his head. “What happened to you? You used to be the fun one.”

“Yes, well, I’m nearly thirty. The fun had to end eventually.”

Azriel whistles. “Someone’s feeling morbid.”

“Hardly made a profit this month.” My words are muffled by my hands. “I think I’m going to have to raise the rents. Again. It’s been a shitty spring in the fields. Hardly anything’s been produced.” 

Rhysand sighs, sitting next to Azriel and tossing an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve some money set aside, yeah? Look to invest. My investments bring in far more money than anything else.” 

My hands fall from my face and land on top of the papers that are scattered across my desk. I nearly knock over a candle. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Sounds like a lot of work that I’m not prepared for.” 

“Yeah, work that’ll pay off. Quickly.” Rhysand jostles Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighs. “Are we getting a drink? I need a drink.”

“You two go,” I say, attempting to straighten the scattered papers. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” 

“Know who you should meet with?” Rhysand asks, paying absolutely no attention to the words coming out of the rest of us. “Tomas Mandray. I hear he’s gotten a hold of a few profitable mines up north. Always looking for investors. Easy money.” 

Just the name of that asshole makes me feel sick. “That guy’s a prick.”

“Yeah, a successful prick,” Rhysand says, and Azriel snorts. “You meet with him once a year and get a good payout every month. Surely that’s worth it.” 

“Leave him alone,” Azriel says, eyeing the half-full bottle of brandy on my desk lovingly. “If he wishes to dismiss solid business opportunities, let him.” 

“So you agree with Rhys?” I ask, picking up my empty glass only to realize there’s nothing in it.

Azriel’s lips thin. “I don’t care what you do, as long as it involves me getting a drink at some point.”

I lift a brow. “Something the matter? Seem agitated.”

“Az is always agitated.” Rhysand claps Azriel on the shoulder yet again, to his dismay. “I’ll set up a meeting. Go if you want, don’t if you want to keep crunching numbers until you fall asleep on your desk. Come. Az needs to be drunk.”

Azriel didn’t deny it. I suddenly feel a sense of selfishness, worried I’ve missed what’s been going on in both of their lives. Clearly something’s wrong with Azriel, something I should know about but don’t. I’ve been too engrossed in this shit. Abruptly, I stand up from my desk and try to smooth out my rumpled shirt. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Rhysand frowns and Azriel lifts a brow. The former asks, “With you looking like that?” 

I sit back down. “You’re right. I should stay here.”

With a curse, Azriel stands and hurries out the door, leaving Rhysand and I alone. 

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, quietly.

Rhysand shrugs. “Won’t say, but I know it’s bad. He needs us. He needs entertainment.” 

I sigh, fully aware I’m losing this battle. I realize that his carefree attitude tonight has been for Azriel’s benefit alone. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“I know Mandray is the last person you want to spend your time with, but he’s honorable. In business, anyway. It’ll be worth it. I mean it. I’ll call for a meeting.”

I stare at my brother for a long time, knowing he’s the only person in this city more stubborn than myself. “Fine, but if this comes back to bite me in the ass, you’re paying for it.”

His grin tells me that he doesn’t give a damn. “It won’t. I’ve been doing business with him for years.” 

Azriel comes back into the room at full speed, tossing a jacket and hat on my desk. “It’ll cover your wrinkled shirt. Come now.”

This time, when he rushes out of the room, Rhysand and I are following him. I’m not certain where we’ll find ourselves, in an opium den or brothel or a common gentleman’s club, but I must admit that as we walk out of my townhouse, into the cool night air, I feel a little bit lighter. 

If there is one thing I can count on, it is the company of the two men before me. We’ve known each other since we were children and they are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family.

My father was a man of nobility but my mother worked in a brothel. Being his only son, my father recognized me as his heir but never named my mother. I used to think it was a curse but after my father’s death I saw it for the blessing it was. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry, but if I do…and if I have children of my own…they will be well cared for.

Financially. Morally. All of it. 

When that day comes, if it comes, I’ll consider myself a lucky man. But, for now, I follow Rhysand and Azriel from one side of town to the other to be the fun, young bastard I once was. 

I’ll need it, especially if I’m getting into business with Lord Tomas Mandray. 

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Marry me, Elain.

Lucien’s words hung between them, thicker with each passing second she said nothing at all. Her fingers curled into fists, the engagement ring tucked against one finger. Lucien blinked at her, true fear sliding over his expression.

“Yes,” she said, heart thudding. “Of course, Lucien, I—”

He crushed his mouth to hers before she could utter another word. That was preferable to having to say actual words that were likely to destroy what still felt very fragile between them. It wasn’t lost on Elain that until very recently, she and Lucien had not been friends. In fact, they’d only just begun building a shaky sort of truce a mere day before the bond snapped.

And now everything was happening impossibly fast, backdropped by war. Lucien had gone from loathing her very existence to needing her like the air he breathed and if Elain was honest, she wondered if he’d still want her like he did without the bond. 

He’d grown up with parents who loved each other more than life itself, and their mating bond was part of that. Of course he’d romanticize it. Of course Lucien would cherish it. Of course he’d want her above everything else and Elain…well, Elain wanted him too.

But maybe she ought to go to Spring without him. Now that she was thinking about it, and about her mother…Lucien wouldn’t understand. He’d be all smiles, the courtly prince of Day who was beloved by everyone. And her mother was difficult. She wouldn’t be impressed by his good looks, his nice manners, or whatever feelings he had for her.

In fact, Elain suspected her mother would respect him less for all those things. She’d think he should have chosen duty over the mating bond and married someone who furthered his own court rather than someone he was in love with. She needed to think it over—maybe talk to him about what his presence in Spring might mean for them both. Try and get him to understand. 

“No,” Elain gasped when his fingers found the laces of her dress. “Lucien I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he breathed, dragging his mouth down her neck. 

“Aren’t you a little sore?” she asked him, thinking of the persistent ache between her legs. She was struggling to adjust given the sheer size of him, and the fact that the bond pulled on her need so she couldn’t take a break. Tonight, though, she thought if she could get uninterrupted sleep, she’d feel clearer when she woke. Less tangled up in knots.

“No.”

“I am,” she said and all at once Lucien had released her. Running a hand through his hair, he apologized.

“Elain, I’m so sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Get in bed with me and tell me something no one else knows about you, Lucien Spell-Cleaver.”

Lucien’s smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Genuine, too. Bright as the sun and warm enough to bask in, Lucien very quickly changed into nothing before turning off the fae lights and climbing into bed with her. For a moment, she thought he’d abandon her plan to just talk given he was half erect.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, angling his hips away from her body. “The mating bond…I can be civilized.”

“I know you can,” Elain replied, pressing a kiss against his palm. Lucien drew her against his chest, toying with strands of her hair.

“Something about me no one knows?” he murmured, lips against her scalp. Lucien was so, so bad at being platonic. Elain, too, given her body was responding to his nearness. Elain’s plan to lie to him suddenly felt weighty—he was trying, and she was about to go around him. “I’m afraid of bees.”

Elain turned to look at him. “Bees?”

“Yeah. Mother has a garden of them—and sometimes when you’re out there, I can see them forming a halo around your head and I just watch from afar.”

“The worst they could do is sting you, Lucien.”

He chuckled. “Yes. And I’d prefer to avoid that if I can.”

“I would never have guessed a future High Lord was afraid of a couple harmless bees.”

“Hardly harmless,” Lucien grumbled. 

“Tell me something that matters,” Elain murmured, twisting again so she was on her stomach, chin on his chest. Lucien brushed a piece of hair from her face. 

“You know that Eris was always after me, trying to figure out if I had the High Lord's magic?” Lucien began, his eyes only on her mouth. It made her giggle, even as Elain nodded her head.

“Yes. I remember quite well how those arguments went.”

Lucien sighed. “Imagine, if I’d never pushed you in the Cauldron, I could have begun courting you the moment you stopped putting ribbons in your hair.”

“What are you talking about? I still use ribbons—”

“You know what I mean,” Lucien said, fingers finding her ribs. Elain exploded with laughter, writhing away from him in an attempt to catch her breath. Lucien didn’t let her get far before pulling her back, his mouth finding hers. It was tempting to melt into him, but Elain wasn’t done with their conversation, even if she knew her attempt to have one quiet night was dangerously close to failure. 

“Tell me,” she breathed, raking her fingers through his long, beautiful hair. 

Lucien panted, chest rising and falling from the effort it clearly took to keep himself contained. Elain wondered if that sight would ever cease to thrill her. Maybe one day, when the mating bond had settled, Elain would simply laugh the whole thing off. 

Maybe not, though.

“I think he wanted to know how much of mothers magic I’d inherited. If I was a threat to him,” Lucien said, flat on his back. He raised a palm and there, as quickly as it took her to draw breath, was warm, licking flame. 

“Lucien,” she breathed, mesmerized by the shimmering heat, the sheer Autumn-ness of the magic. He curled his fingers into his hand, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. 

“If Beron ever thought she’d given me anything, I think he would have had us both killed. Father knows, and I’m sure he told mother, but no one else. It’s always been a secret.”

“I won’t tell,” Elain promised. 

A smile spread over his face. “I know you won’t. I trust you with my life.”

Words spoken so casually, with an easiness that made Elain’s whole body go loose. “You barely know me.”

“I feel like I’ve known you centuries,” Lucien said earnestly. “And it used to infuriate me. Why can’t I get you out of my head, my blood, my mind?”

“Because we’re mates—”

“Because I recognized you on sight,” he breathed, turning to his side so they were nose to nose. His lips brushed her own. “And I’m so incredibly stupid, thinking I could outrun myself. I wanted you long before the mating bond ever snapped between us and my only regret is not giving in sooner. I know what you’re thinking, Elain…and you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” she asked, sliding her hand over his neck. Lucien shuddered.

“Just this one time, you’re wrong. You think I want you because of the bond, but I wanted you before it. Elain, I wanted you so badly it was all I thought about.”

“Because—”

“Because it’s you,” he interrupted softly, kissing her as if that could somehow make her see the truth of things. “Do you think my father only wants my mother because of their shared bond?”

“No,” she admitted.

“If you were awful for me���if I still hated you when it snapped—maybe I’d still want you physically. I’m sure I would. But not like this. Not in my bones, my very soul. And I’d marry you without it. I’d still be in this bed without it.”

“Who knew the Day Court prince was such a romantic,” she teased, blinking away the urge to sob ugly tears into his chest.

“Only you,” Lucien replied with that heart stopping grin. “And if you spread the rumor around, I will viciously deny it.”

“It’s too late. I tell the ladies every morning at breakfast until they’re weeping into their juice.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now,” Lucien informed her, reaching for her face. “And I won’t be held responsible for whatever happens next.”

Elain was still smiling when he made good on his promise, the languid kiss setting her ablaze. So much for a good night's sleep, she told herself. He knew what he was doing with his mouth, tongue sliding into her mouth for a taste. Lucien moaned softly, fingers curling in her hair to hold her still. His other hand found her hip, pulling her closer before laying her flat, his thigh pressed between her legs. It was instinct to grind up into him, dress ruching up so he could see she wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

He moaned again, louder this time. 

Something was crowding the edge of her vision, pressing against the back of her eyes. Elain gasped, pulling away without telling Lucien what was coming on. He didn’t understand, licking the column of her throat as his fingers became frantic, tugging at the laces of her gown so she, too, would be naked. 

“Lucien—” Elain tried to warn him. 

But the vision washed over her and Elain lost herself for a moment.

“Look at me, look at me,” Killain whispered, reaching for Elain’s face. Holding it with a gentleness that could have broken her heart, he added, “Kiss me right now.”

“Killian, I—” Elain was crying. Crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, her heart breaking in her chest. It was a tangible thing, cracking her ribs and bending her spine until Elain had practically melted to the floor.

“Right now,” he ordered, though only desperation tinged his words. Elain looked up into pine green eyes and brought her face nearer until his mouth was mashed against her own. It wasn’t a true kiss—she wasn’t moving, though her eyes closed of their own accord. Even as her body rebelled, her mind obeyed.

Behind her, a voice she didn’t recognize, disembodied in the blackness around her, asked, “What is this?”

“Elain Archeron has agreed to be my wife,” Killian said, pressing his forehead to her own. No one could see her red rimmed eyes, and her heaving shoulders might have been joy. Killian smiled, though there was no happiness to be found standing so close. 

“How very fortunate for Spring.”

Elain gasped, shoving at Lucien so hard he tumbled to his back. Scrambling up the headboard, Elain tried to get her bearings. Elain Archeron has agreed to be my wife. My wife. My wife.

“What’s wrong?” Lucien asked, eyes wild, fingers fisted in the blankets. He was crouched, his cock jutting from between his legs. Elain blinked away the urge to scream. She couldn’t tell Lucien what she’d seen.

She needed to simply change it. The future wasn’t written in stone—it was merely a collection of possibilities that could come to pass. She could fix it. Whatever her and Lucien had done wrong to bring that about, Elain could set it right again.

“Lucien,” she said, watching the muscles in his shoulders and back bunch and shift as he crawled up the bed toward her. “Let’s get married right now.”

He frowned. “Now? You don’t want to wait?”

“No,” she breathed, taking his face in her hands. That pain in her chest, her breaking heart—had that been a broken bond? What had happened? How had things gone so terribly wrong? “No, I want to right now. Right now.”

Lucien’s eyes searched her own for a long second. “Get dressed. I’ll have someone wake a priestess.”

And that was that.

Elain scrambled out of bed while Lucien tucked away his erection and began barking orders at servants in the hall.

She would fix whatever went wrong. 

Everything was going to be fine.

LUCIEN: 

When Lucien imagined his wedding, he’d assumed it would be under a burning Day Court sun. Surrounded by his family, his friends, his people seemed like a given. He’d certainly never imagined walking through the city in the dead of night, clutching his mates hand as he took her to a temple. Part of him wondered if Elain wasn’t pregnant and panicking. 

He didn’t dare ask her what had made her want to do things now. In truth, Lucien was relieved. Marriage was far less binding than a mating bond, but still not easily dissolved. There was no way he’d lose her, not when she inked her name on the marriage contract and spoke the words before the Mother, an ordained priestess, and the Prince of Day Court. 

Lucien took a breath to steal his nerves, leading her up the marble stairs. Elain didn’t seem nervous at all—in fact, Elain seemed calmer than he’d ever seen her. Certain, which settled Lucien’s fear that something had happened.

And so what if she was pregnant? Sure, he was young and not quite ready to be a father. If it was her, Lucien would raise any number of offspring gladly. He’d do whatever it took, so long as she kept that ring on her finger and announced to Prythian and beyond that he was her husband, her mate—the only person she’d ever loved.

“Ready?” she asked, turning those pretty brown eyes fully on him.

“Born ready,” Lucien lied. He was pretty sure he’d come late, squalling angrily against the bright sun. His father told his birth story that way, at any rate. Grinning, pleased to have been given a son. Lucien wished he was there, offering up advice Lucien swore he didn’t want or need. Had his father, the High Lord, been terrified too? 

It wasn’t that he thought it was wrong—nothing had ever felt more right in his life. This was between them. There was no spectacle, just two people in love, and Lucien could appreciate taking this for themselves. Still, he wanted to know how his father had felt when his mother had agreed to marry him. When everything seemed to finally be working out, locking into place. Happiness felt achievable. 

And even when the dark haired priestess led them to the very front of the temple, standing them at an altar where stained glass windows depicted the benevolent Mother Goddess tipping over her Cauldron to create the world, he expected something to go wrong. Someone to burst in and stop them, to convince Elain she was making a mistake.

A roaring in Lucien’s ears turned him into a disaster. This was a dream—he was convinced of it. A beaming, glowing Elain watched him with love filled eyes and Lucien kept waiting for him to wake up alone in bed, having dreamt the entire thing. He did managed to wrap that gold ribbon around their wrists, binding them together in the old tradition. And somehow he managed to get his tongue to work, too—Lucien promised to honor and obey and cherish, sliding to his knees the way he was supposed to, hands laid flat in supplication. 

Elain did the same, right up until it came time to kneel. Only then did Lucien’s sense return to him. He caught her by the elbows, shaking his head back and forth. Kneeling was nearly exclusively done by females—males might, if they wanted their partners to know their marriage was equal, but it wasn’t required. But for Lucien, who needed Elain to understand that what he felt for her bordered on worship, he would not allow his wife or mate to kneel before him.

Unless, of course, she was putting his cock in her mouth. 

“Not you,” he whispered, well aware that one day his father would die and his people would kneel before him. “Never you.”

And that was that. No one could tell him no—certainly not the frowning priestess, who merely continued on, likely thinking there was something wrong with him. Elain was declared Princess of Day, Elain Spell-Cleaver of Rhodes. His wife. Lucien took his time kissing her, not caring they had a witness, not caring that the scent of him was likely to linger for the rest of the day. 

“Come on,” Elain whispered, gathering the skirts of her white and gold dress. Lucien couldn’t help but trail after her, eyes locked on the cascade of curls falling to her waist. Mine. You are mine and I am yours. 

She grasped his fingers, leading him through the city that now belonged to her by blood and law. Could she feel it? Could Elain feel the hum the same way Lucien could, like a buzz against his skin? A hyper awareness of it, this place, the very land itself? She seemed warmer, a faint glow emanating from her beautiful, tanned skin that he didn’t think had existed before. 

The palace was silent when they returned. Lucien, too sentimental for his own good, swept her up with a laugh as she squealed, clinging to his neck like he might drop her. 

“This is how things are done,” he lied, though he’d seen it happen in Winter, once. Maybe he’d bring the tradition here, though there was no reason for it other than Lucien wanted to bury his face in her neck. “Are you still tired?”

“Yes,” she said, his pretty little liar. Lucien could smell the arousal coming off her in waves. “I think I’d like to go to sleep before the sun is fully up.”

Lucien made his way to their shared bedchamber, intending to have the rest of her things brought in later that day.

He wanted a crown made for her, too. Something special that belonged solely to Elain—something pretty she could wear when they went back to Winter and Summer…and that he could show off in Spring. 

Look at how pretty my wife looks in gold. 

Maybe he’d put her in his lap, too, head on his shoulder while he stared Killain down. Elain would kill him for it, but oh. What a way to go. 

Lucien closed their bedroom door, locking it loudly. A sly smile fluttered over Elain’s lips, smothered by the time she turned to face him. “If you’re so tired, we should get you out of your dress,” he said. 

Elain stepped back for every step forward he took until he had her all but pinned against the footboard. “Let me help,” he murmured, gesturing for her to turn around.

“You can’t control yourself.”

“Sure I can,” he lied, already stiff beneath his ceremonial dress. His mother was going to murder him when some busybody servant told her he’d asked to have it laundered. “I told you, though—no clothes in my bed.”

“Your bed? Dear husband—” 

Lucien’s control shredded the moment those words left her mouth. He just needed to touch her, needed to kiss her. 

“There he is,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his carefully braided hair. Elain had them undone almost as quickly as Lucien had her dress at her feet, lifting her by the ass so her legs were wrapped around him.

He was beginning to think there would never be an end to wanting her, needing her. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her to the bed or climbing on top of her. He didn’t care to do anything but kick off his shoes and clothes, throwing them to the floor as the sun began to climb in the sky, drenching the room in bright, sunny gold. 

Elain’s nails dug down his back, drawing a sharp moan of pleasure from him even as Lucien thrust into her body. He felt like he was running out of time, even as it stretched ahead of him for an eternity. 

Fuck, she was so tight—clamped around him until Lucien could scarcely breathe. He tried, but her tongue was in his mouth, her fingers sliding up his spine to pull at his hair. This was his fantasy, wasn’t it? His mate, so desperate for him she couldn’t think of anything but him? Lucien sometimes thought it was just him so mindlessly needy while Elain blithely went about her day, forgetting he existed until he stepped back into her awareness.

“I love you,” he whispered against her jaw. He just needed to hear her say it. 

Marriage wasn’t enough. Mating bonds weren’t, either. He needed her to say it back.

“Lucien,” she breathed, eyes locked on his own. “Of course I love—” her words broke off in a moan as his fingers found the little nub apexed at her thighs and began to rub. He was, as always, his own worst enemy. She would have said it had he not wanted to also feel her come, too.

“You’re mine,” Lucien growled, daring to give voice to the words he was so often thinking. Elain arched, tightening around him before he devoured her cry of pleasure. He was just behind her, pulled so deep he couldn’t remember anything about himself. Not his name, his home, or any thought outside of the writhing female beneath him. When Lucien came, his thoughts were merely a chant of her name— Elain, Elain, Elain. 

“Let me cancel my plans,” Lucien breathed, still twitching as his come slid between them, staining the sheets. “Stay here with me today.”

“Yes,” she agreed, canting her hips again. Insatiable was what she was. That was lucky for him, given Lucien couldn’t help the shuddering groan that ripped out of him. “Yes, I—”

“Prince?” a muffled voice at the door sounded more nervous than anything.

“Not now—”

“It’s the…princess?” that same voice continued, uncertain what Elain’s exact title was. “Her sister is here for her.”

Elain scrambled from beneath him before Lucien had a chance to catch his breath. One moment, his cock was warm, the next it was jammed against the sheets.

“Which sister?” Elain asked hurriedly, pulling a dress from the trunk at the end of their bed. Lucien lamented the loss of her bare, flawless skin. At least he’d managed to consummate his marriage, he told himself. Small mercies from the Cauldron, if nothing else. 

“Nesta Archeron?” 

“Oh, gods,” Elain whispered, sweeping her hair to one shoulder. “Lucien, button me.”

He did as he was told, grumbling all the same. “Make her wait.”

“You don’t know Nesta,” Elain replied, skirting away when he tried to draw her close. “She wouldn’t come if it wasn’t important.”

Elain went to the door, halting as if she’d just thought of something. “When I return, let's finish this. I’ll make dinner. You eat it.”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his throat. “What about the ceremony?”

“We’ll do that, too. But this is just for us.”

He could only nod for fear he might start weeping if he tried to speak. Her expression softened. “I love you, Lucien. So much.”

And then she was gone.

Taking his heart with her.

[witchybitchy222]

Hi lovely!! Can you please do #2 “I’ve known you since… forever, I can’t imagine life without you.” With Azriel?

Azriel x Reader | Confessions

Based on the above prompt! Short little angst with a fluffy ending!

Warnings: depression, slight allusion to suicidal thoughts

——————————————————————————

Your family meant everything to you. The war with Hybern had threatened everyone you loved, and when it was over, you clung closer to them than ever. And after the birth of your nephew, Nyx, there was an outpouring of love around you that was truly incredible.

Now that things had settled down, everyone had fallen back into their old roles and new lives, but you…. You were lost.

As a kid, you’d never wanted to get married, or have babies. Living in the Hewn City, you knew you’d be married off to some cruel male who only wanted you to secure some alliance with your family and produce heirs. None of that was at all appealing to you and you’d dreaded and avoided it as long as you could. You’d learned to fight and use what little magic you had as a defense, you’d made yourself valuable enough to your father that he overlooked marrying you off for longer than was proper. That, and he was still holding out hope you’d be married to Rhysand.

The High Lord’s family had been close with yours. Your mothers were best friends and you’d spent a lot of your childhood playing with Rhys and his sister. When Rhys inherited his title, he’d taken you out of the Hewn City and your life in Velaris had begun.

Since then you’d been content with your found family and life working alongside the High Lord. But now, things had changed. It felt like everyone was moving on and you were standing still, and somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted a family of your own.

Of course you were more than happy for Rhys, he deserved every bit of happiness he had, and you loved Feyre and Nyx both. But now, not only was your best friend a mate and father, but Cassian was mated, Mor was dating a Valkyrie girl, and even Amren was seemingly happy with Varian. The one that hurt the most though, was Azriel and Elain.

They weren’t technically a couple, but everyone saw how much time they spent together and it was only a matter of time before they became more than friends. Really you should’ve been happy for them, you were happy for everyone else, but when it came to Azriel, your feelings had always been complicated.

You’d known the shadow singer for centuries and you’d always been close. Both of you had had flings and sexual partners, and for the most part you’d been fine with it. Content to let your feelings for him be pushed back and hold on to that spark of hope that he wasn’t in a serious relationship because he returned your feelings.

And then, Elain came along and your hope shattered. You couldn’t even hate her, she was so kind and gentle and she’d been through her own amount of trauma. You’d actually become friends rather quickly, bonding over botany. While Elain loved any and all plants, you focused mainly on herbs, medicines and poisons. She’d been more than happy to dedicate a section of her garden to them, and you’d taught her all you knew about them.

Today you’d been feeling more down than usual. You were slouched in the regular booth at Rita’s, frowning into your drink as your friends danced with their partners, leaving you alone. You knew they didn’t do it on purpose, but you were just so tired of being left out.

You downed the drink and moved across the bar, heading outside for some air. You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall, letting the cool night air wash over you.

“Y/N!” Elain’s voice called out to you. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight!”

You pushed off the wall, giving the female a smile. “You know me, I can never say no to Mor.”

Your eyes flitted behind her where Azriel stood, arms crossed and eyes scrutinizing as usual.

“I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to convince Az to come.” She turned to look at the shadowsinger and he shrugged in response. “I’m gonna go grab a drink, I’ll see you guys inside!” With a twirl of her lilac skirt, Elain disappeared into the club, likely to find her sisters.

Azriel slowly walked over and leaned against the wall next to you. “What’re you doing out here?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.

You shrugged back “just needed some air.”

“Drank to your limit already?” He smirked.

“Not even close” you snorted, nudging him with your shoulder.

You stood together in silence for a few minutes, watching the fae pass by. You knew he could tell you were upset, but you also knew he’d wait until you wanted to talk about it first. That was one thing you loved about Az, he never pried.

“Do you ever feel… out of place?” You asked, eyes sliding to his face.

“Well,” he began, “ I’m a bastard-born Illyrian with no blood relatives who lives with his best friends and their mates… so yeah.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes “I just mean…I feel like I’m not meant for this life anymore.”

“Y/N…” he started, his hand gently brushing your face, you turned to him, tears barely contained in your eyes “believe me, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve felt it a thousand times before, but you have to know, we’d all be lost without you. I’ve known you since… forever. I can’t imagine life without you.”

Your tears were flowing freely now as Azriel wrapped his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, wings cocooning you.

“Thanks Az, you’re the best.” You said with a sniffle.

“Mhmm” he said, hand rubbing circles on your back. “What’s got you feeling this way Y/N, I don’t want you to go down that path.”

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything but the truth. “ I feel like everyone has their place, their person, and I’m just here. Rhys and Feyre are parents, Mor is finally being her true self, Amren has actually been showing affection towards someone, hell, even Cas is mated.” You looked up at him briefly, his attention fully trained on you before closing your eyes against his chest again. “And you have Elain.”

“Elain?” He asked, pulling back to look at your face.

“Don’t try and hide it Az, everyone knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re together” you scoffed.

“What would ever make you think that?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s obvious” you said, stepping out of his arms. “You’re always together, laughing and telling secrets” you tried to keep the bitterness from your voice.

You looked up at him and he laughed, he actually laughed at you.

“Y/N,” he smiled at you, “do you know why I’m here tonight?”

You frowned, was this a trick question? “Because Elain wanted you to come…” you said slowly.

“Yes, Elain wanted me to come,” he said, stepping closer to you, “she wanted me to come and spend time with you. She’s been trying every chance she gets to push us together because she figured out how I feel about you.”

“Az” you breathed, staring up at him wide-eyed .

“Ideally this isn’t how I would’ve told you, but, Y/N, I’m in love with you, and I think I always have been.”

Your whole world stopped at his confession, your heart sped up, and your body moved of its own accord. Before you even realized it you were grabbing his shirt and pulling him to you, your face tilting up to press your lips against his. Azriel sighed against you, his hands snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I love you” you murmured between kisses, and he moved his body to press you against the wall, tongue entering your mouth, making you moan. The feel of his body pressed against you, his lips on yours was almost too much, and then suddenly it’s like fireworks were going off inside you, golden and sparkling. You pulled back and looked into those hazel eyes and suddenly you knew. Azriel was your mate.

You had to be grinning like an idiot but you didn’t even care because the pure joy you saw on his face matched the warmth you felt inside.

Azriel leaned his forehead against yours, letting out a soft laugh, “my mate” he grinned.

You reached up and placed a quick kiss on his lips, “I think we should go in and thank Elain.”

Taglist:

@kayla26 @augustinerose @strawbwebbie @judig92 @bankerfrog @meritxellao

@amdiriel @kristalhi @everyonehatescarmen

@reareaikea @nothxney @toothhurtyam @goldentournesol

[kristeristerin]

Hi hi! *waves* may I please request Lucien x Reader with Speak Now? Thank you very much!

AN- Annnnd another one down! Thank you for the ask! These have done a great job at getting me writing. I even managed to get halfway done with the third chapter of Pretty Little Liar today! That should be out soon!

As always asks are open for prompts!

Song: Speak Now

Pairing: Reader X Lucien

Content Warning: None

Words: 799

“What are you doing here?”

The sudden voice startles you out of your daydream and you turn to look into the face of Eris. Though you had expected to see his signature sneer, the face you are met with instead is one of concern.

“I- I’m not sure honestly,” you bit your lip as you look from Eris to the Temple ahead of you. “I just thought that maybe I should talk to him, you know?”

“Are you here to stop the wedding?” He raises a brow at you.

You shake your head. “I couldn’t do that to him. He’s waited for this for so long. Lucien deserves to be happy. He deserves a future with his mate.”

“Idiots, the both of you,” Eris mutters as he rolls his eyes. “What my dear brother deserves is a future with someone who isn’t just picking him as a consolation prize. Elain is a nice enough female, but anyone who thinks that’s a love match is delusional. She’s still caught up on the shadowsinger, and he’s so in love with the weird little bookstore owner it’s disgusting.”

You wipe away a few stray tears as you try to glare at the Autumn Court High Lord. “So you’re saying you’d approve of having me as a sister-in-law then?”

“Honestly?” he leans in and pushes a lock of hair behind your ear, “You’re the only female I would approve of for Lucien. I hope you make your choice soon. The Ceremony is about to begin.”

Before you have a chance to reply Eris turns away and is striding toward the temple.

—--------------------------

You can hear the music has already started as you manage to slip into the back of the main room of the temple. Lucien is standing by the alter with Eris to his right and Elain’s sisters to his left. A moment later the bride enters the room and you press yourself back into the curtains to hide from view.

She’s graceful as she makes her way toward Lucien, and your heart breaks at the smile he’s giving her. For a moment you contemplate leaving, but a cool sensation around your wrist catches your attention. Looking down you notice a black shadow circling up your arm before resting on your shoulder. When you look into the crowd again you meet the knowing eyes of the Shadowsinger. He gives you a small nod before turning back toward the ceremony.

Lucien is speaking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying over the sound of your heartbeat. You close your eyes and breath deeply for several breaths and manage to pull yourself back from having a panic attack. Then it happens. The line you’d been waiting for. “If anyone here has any reason these two should not marry, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The priestess looks out to the crowd.

There are several gasps as you step into the aisle, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s because of the male who has also stood up several rows ahead of you.

“Elain,” Azriel’s usually quiet voice is loud and full of emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for messing everything up, and I’m sorry for waiting until your wedding day to try to make things right. If you can forgive me, and give me a chance, I swear I will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

You want to look at Elain to gauge her response, but you can’t take your eyes off Lucien and the fact that he’s staring right back at you.

After a moment he shakes his head and turns to Elain and they begin to speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

“I’m in love with Azriel.”

They stare at each other wide-eyed. The room is silent. Lucien nods and takes Elain’s hand. He leads her back down the aisle to where Azriel waits and puts her hand in his, “Take care of her.”

A look passes between the males before Azriel looks over his shoulder at you and says to Lucien, “You too.”

Lucien nods at him once before looking back to you and quickly making his way to where you were waiting.

“You came,” he breathed looking down at you.

“I came,” you nodded and bit your lip. “I’m sorry about your wedding, Lucien.”

He shakes his head and says “I’m not.” In an instant, his hand was in your hair as he pulled you closer. “I’ve never been happier to be interrupted.”

Your eyes shine as you look up at him. “Want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he grins at you and takes your hand in his as he leads you the rest of the way out of the temple.

[thecatsaesthetics]

I think this scene actually proves how much of an unreliable narrator Nesta is, and is not the girl boss moment Nesta stans seem think it is. It shows the exact opposite, and people taking Nesta's "side" in this scene aren't paying attention to the narrative.

"You (Feyre) dragged me into this mess, this horrible place, you are why I'm like this, why I am stuck here" - Feyre did NOTHING to her sisters, Ianthe and Tamlin are the reason Nesta and Elain are fae. Even if Feyre hadn't used her father's house in ACOMAF, Nesta and Elain still would have been turned into fae because Ianthe learned about them from Feyre much earlier and was going to use them to keep Feyre compliant.

Claiming Feyre didn't "care before" - Feyre went out of her way to invite her to Winter Solstice, which is not only a holiday but her own goddamn birthday. Somebody who "does care" isn't doing that, she wanted Nesta around. Rhys also stated he "offered Nesta job after job" in ACOFAS and Nesta declined them all. Rhys isn't offering these jobs because he wants Nesta around, he's doing so because he knows how hurt Feyre is over her sister.

"Your mate's money" - that line is beyond fucked up and anyone claiming this is a "girl boss moment" you're simply wrong. First lets point out Feyre and Rhys are married so his money is her money. Furthermore Feyre is actively working as High Lady, saved the city, and literally sacrificed her humanity to save the entire country from Amarantha.

Second Nesta has been entitled to Feyre's labor/work/sacrifices since Feyre was 14 years old. Feyre is just stating the facts for the first time that Nesta has only ever helped herself to Feyre's money. The only resort Nesta has is "ummm it's not actually your money", this is not the girlboss comment you think it is. Nesta actively has refused jobs, she has refused to do any labor and then cries when someone points this out to her.

"You're always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family" -This implies that Feyre only provided for her family once she became associated with the High Fae. That isn't true. That's incorrect. Nesta and Elain have both admitted that they would have died without Feyre going into the woods (at 14) and hunting. Feyre has been sacrificing for them and has provided for them. Nesta mocking this, isn't a girlboss moment.

"As if things had been so miserable with the Archeron family"- In this own scene she is happy that she was able to hurt Feyre "Another flash of hurt. Nesta's blood sang at the direct blow" There are other moments in the series, but Nesta in one moment is trying to use her words to hurt Feyre and in the next moment is claiming Feyre has no reason to want to claim people who treat her with kindness are her family. That's the definition of an unreliable narrator.

"Elain had chosen Feyre and these people, and left her behind"-Nesta has been actively shoving everyone out, since the battle and yes she is traumatized but shoving people out is not someone "Not Choosing you". But also the way she views Elain is similar to a doll, Elain shouldn't have to be just "Nesta's sister" she should be allowed to be both Feyre and Nesta's sister. She also uses Elain in this scene to try and get out of working, the "Elain needs to be able to see me" when she knows she's been pushing Elain away and Elain is not a child, if she wants to see Nesta she will. It's often discussed how Nesta abuses Feyre but I am also starting to see her treatment of Elain as abusive.

"Feyre had always been her own master. Always got whatever she wished. And now it seemed Feyre would be granted this wish, too." - What in the world is Nesta talking about here? Did Feyre get her wish when she was starving and had no money and forced as a child to hunt? Did she get her wish when Tamlin broken into there home and took her without consent? Did she get her wish when she literally was tortured and killed because Amarantha was pissed off she had bested her?

So inconclusion people who claim Feyre is an unreliable narrator... this entire scene PROVES Nesta is the unreliable narrator. Everything she is claiming about Feyre simply isn't true or supported by facts.

[captmickey]

I'm going to post my Escape from Monkey Islan rewrite overview. And since I'm pretty much bailing (for now) the fic. Here's what was written so far.

Who knows, maybe one day I'll come back to it.

---

From the personal log of Guybrush Threepwood, 

Sometimes, when it’s quiet, I can still hear the monkeys. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a few years since I first washed up on the beaches of Melee Island, armed with nothing more than a goofy name and an overpowering urge to become a swashbuckling pirate. 

Who could have suspected that such a humble pursuit would lead me to cross swords with the evil Ghost Pirate LeChuck, the slimiest slug ever to plunder the seven seas? And who could have guessed that my battles with LeChuck would introduce me to the love of my life, Melee Island’s Governor Elaine Marley? Or that my efforts to win Elaine’s hand would repeatedly drag me to the mystery-drenched shores of Monkey Island? Or that I would finally end the scourge of LeChuck, burying him beneath a mountain of ice?

Not me, that’s for sure.

Back then, the only thing duller than my sword was my wit. Now look at me, I’m married to the most beautiful governmental official in the Caribbean, the entire Tri-Island area shudders at the sound of my name, and now my Plunder Bunny and I are returning to Melee Island, after the most incredible honeymoon in the history of--

“Guybrush, look out!”

The pen sharply skewed off the page, creating a thin black line across the sentence as Guybrush shifted himself away from the incoming projectile, hearing the whooshing of the hatchet fly over his head. He turned his head and spat out his pen to the side before looking over to his newly wed wife fending off a pirate with two weapons at once. “I could… really use your help right about now!” Elaine called out.

“Oh, I'd love to, but uh... little tied up…” Guybrush rattled slightly his restraints for emphasis.

Her eyes glanced over his way every few seconds before she pushed off the offender away, catching her breath. “Heh, you can't tell me that Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate doesn't have a trick up his sleeve. Speaking of which, any progress on the escape plan?”

“Ah… I’m working on it.” Guybrush admitted, pushing himself up the pole he was chained to. “Oh, on your left.”

“Thank you!” She quickly swung a fist at the enemy, watching them fling back against the others like a couple of bowling pins. “Alright, I'll fend them off a bit longer then. But do hurry, please?” She gave a smile before quickly gripping her weapons with renewed vigor to fight off the next round.

Guybrush watched in admiration as she went to fight two at once, a feat that he still could not comprehend how she was able to do with ease and began looking around at his surroundings. Okay, he thought, what is there to see. Well for one, there was a massive ship that was throwing pirates their way endlessly (and in fact dwarfed their own ship by comparison), there was a cannon with a cannonball lodged inside (at least, he hoped there was), and a brazier with some lit coal that was within range. As for himself, he was restrained rather firmly against one of the masts, his only movements around said mast was limited to just being able to move around and kicking his feet. 

‘Cool, so either I could spin myself fast enough around the mast to free myself from my restraint or I could trip any poor unfortunate pirate coming my way… kick if I’m lucky.’ Guybrush thought. He looked at the cannon aiming perfectly at the enemy ship, wishing he could just light the darn thing. But as it stood, there wasn’t much he could do. 

Light. Wait!

A thought clicked in his mind, he didn’t have to be the one to light the cannon necessarily, it just needed to be lit. He side eyed the burning brazier and grinned. Guybrush began shimming himself to face the brazier, giving it a bit of a kick once it was within range. He knew it could have gone one of two ways; either it would fall towards or away from him, but as luck would have it, it was the former. Quietly cheering to himself, he kicked a coal his way, balancing it slightly on his foot before feeling the heat begin to burn through his boot. 

“Ow ow ow ow…!” Guybrush quietly cried out as he kept kicking the coal back and forth between one foot and the other, shimming himself to face the cannon. “Please work…!” He kicked the coal far from him towards the unlit wick, holding his breath as he saw it take light and slowly burn down. It would be truly terrible if the cannon didn’t go off. But to his relief, with a loud and ear-ringing boom, the cannon shot straight through the opposing ship, most likely igniting the gunpowder as it erupted into fire before sinking into the ocean. He watched the enemy rush to the side, watching in horror as their means of transport vanish under the sea. The sounds of the safety being pulled back from various guns clicked quickly as Elaine and the crew all took aim.

While the crew gathered the remaining enemies as prisoners, Elaine walked over to Guybrush, sighing relief and smiling his way.

“Oh, my little snugglecakes.” She cooed as she brushed back some of his hair and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Guybrush, in turn, rested his head on the top of her’s, sighing with content that the ordeal was over. It was only the slight ache in his wrists from his shackles that brought him back out of his honeymoon bliss to his current reality.

“Um, hey Elaine? Could you untie me?”

“Oh! Right, of course.”

The sun had long since set as the ship made its way to port later that evening. The crewmate shouted from the crow’s night of the land approaching and the rest of the crew below helped the Threepwoods move their luggage from the hold to the deck (it wasn’t really luggage, Guybrush thought as he helped piled the packages on top of one another, they were more wedding gifts and other knick knacks they bought during their honeymoon). 

"And the way you just took them down with not one but TWO weapons! Elaine, that was incredible!" Guybrush gushed, regaling the tale the two starred in. 

"Yes, well, it would have meant nothing if you didn't cleverly think of that way to shoot down their ship." Elaine complinented, handing Guybrush a hat box. "Oh, make sure this goes on top, it's fragile."

"Right, of course." Guybrush nodded, taking the box and placing it with the rest of the collection. "By the way, are you excited to be back in Melee?" 

"Of course." She said, handing him a heavier box. "It is my home." Elaine chuckled and shook her head. "My apologies, our home."

Guybrush paused for a moment, letting those words sink in: our home. A smile graced his face. "Yeah… yeah it is, isn't it? Our home." He placed the heavy box in the pile, hearing a sudden crunch beneath the weight of the gift and winced.

"What was that?" Elaine perked up, looked over and saw the sheepish blond. She sighed. "You put the hat box underneath by accident, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine."

Elaine climbed out of the hole, patting her hands of any dust and walked over to Guybrush who slipped an arm around her waist.