#elriel wip

[lunaatthezoo]

WIP wip wip wip wip!

It ain't coming today but it IS coming-

And a cute lil moodboard

Az just silently strode to Rhysand, sliding the card from his pocket and into his brother's hand. 

Nothing but a messenger of death. 

He turned and walked towards their armory closet behind the sitting room. He silently pulled out weapon after weapon, strapping them to every part of his body. 

Rhys followed, speaking. “Stop, Az. We need to stop and think. This is likely a trap. We need a plan.”

Az didn't look at him. “I have a plan. Kill them all.”

Rhysand grabbed his arm. “You will fucking die if you try that.”

Az looked straight into his brother’s eyes. He knew his own were empty. Nothing but a messenger of death. 

“I'm getting her back."

[adifferentsortofstrength]

Close to Her Chest

Part One

This is the first writing I have ever put out into the world, so please be kind ♥︎

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Elain x Azriel

Our story begins shortly after The Incident on Solstice. I'll do my best to be canon compliant/adjacent but it's been a while since I reread the whole series. I'm not sure how far I'll take this piece, but the only way to begin is to begin.

I'll add any pertinent tags below.

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Even in the dark of winter, Elain found it easier to breathe beneath the sky. The chill of the air had a lessened effect in this new Fae body of hers, leaving her numb but not immediately frozen to her core as it would have before.

More often than not, she found herself slipping silently out into the gardens once the family had taken their leave from the dinner table. She couldn’t stand the flickering firelight of the townhouse sitting room for more than a moment. Having to listen to her family, her friends, happily chattering away while she herself was all but decaying inside… it was enough to drive her mad.

Only a week ago, in the dark of the longest night of the year, the crackling fire in the hearth had been a comfort. A muted backdrop to what Elain had thought would be a pivotal moment in her life, the moment that she chose to take control of her fate.

But now the angry popping of the logs was just a taunting reminder of the silence that fell after.

This was a mistake.

For months, there had been a static building between her and Azriel. It was palpable in the air, clung to her skin after the briefest brush of their hands, was alight in the gazes they exchanged across a crowded room. And yet somehow, it seemed only she alone had sensed it.

That much was clear now.

This was a mistake.

In the aftermath, the pendant lying on her breast burned as though it was discharging all of that pent up static into her. When her trembling fingers unclasped it, placed it gingerly upon the lingering pile of Solstice gifts, Elain felt the static leave her. And ever since, there was nothing but numbness in its place.

This was a mistake.

Wandering amongst the burlap covered plants, her fingers trailing carelessly through the dusting of snow, the numbness of her heart now echoed in that of her skin.

Distantly, she could still hear her family talking and laughing together. Azriel had been noticeably absent from all gatherings this past week, and her stomach dropped at the thought that she was keeping him from enjoying time with the people he loved.

As if the embarrassment and shame around her behavior on Solstice wasn’t torturous enough, the sudden onslaught of guilt at the thought of depriving him of his family sent her knees out from under her.

A sob escaped her lips before she could bring an ice-cold hand up to muffle the sound. Elain had never wished for the ability to winnow more than she did in this moment.

If only she could disappear into the night, stepping out somewhere far from this cold garden path, maybe then she could grant her family a bit of reprieve from the burden of her presence.

A frozen gust of wind whipped around her, and all at once the now familiar sensation of her Sight sparked through her veins. As she felt herself slipping further from her body, Elain’s last coherent thought was a morbid hope that maybe no one would find her out here.

Maybe she could simply drift away, out here in this cold and desolate garden, surrounded by the corpses of the plants she had nurtured and cared for all year. It felt poetic somehow, because unlike her plants which would return vibrant and alive come spring, the feelings she had nurtured quietly within herself for the last year had little chance of surviving the final weeks of winter.

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A week had passed since Solstice, and Azriel had barely slept at all. Immediately after receiving the order from Rhys to stay away from Elain, he had been sent to Illyria to gather intel on the rising unrest amongst some of the more isolated clans.

Having done all he could there, he flew now towards the townhouse. The sun had set already and he knew that his family would be finished with their meal, gathering in the sitting room for the evening.

As he circled lower over Velaris, his shadows began to rise around him, suddenly twisting and pulling against his skin, as if urging him to hurry. They led him not to the front door of the house, but instead deep into the frozen gardens. They whispered She is there! She is there!

Understanding immediately who they meant, he landed rapidly amongst the rows of covered bushes and trellises.

It took mere moments to locate her, and what he saw sent the chill of the night straight to his heart.

Elain, beautiful, lovely Elain, was lying along the edge of the garden path. She had no coat or cloak, no gloves or even a scarf to keep her warm. The snow had formed a halo around her, and as he approached he could see that she was lost in a vision, the whites of her eyes barely visible under her dark lashes.

She had clearly collapsed here, her legs curled beneath her, her hands resting haphazardly in the snow by her shoulders. He couldn’t tell how long she had been like this, but it was long enough that her lips were blue and a slight frost had gathered across her skin.

Azriel summoned a thick wool blanket with his shadows, and hurriedly wrapped it around her as he gathered Elain into his arms. Placing a scarred hand against her face, he leaned in, cocooning his wings around them, desperately willing the heat of his body to warm hers.

“Elain,” he whispered, not wanting to startle her, “Elain, please come back to me. Please open your eyes.”

Her pulse was sluggish, and though he could see her faint breath misting from her parted lips, she did not stir.

In a moment of rash indifference, not caring for what consequences may befall him, Azriel felt himself slipping into shadow, and stepping out in the middle of the sitting room.

“Azriel?”, Feyre was the first to acknowledge him, the others turning in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Azriel, what-“, Rhys started, before his eye caught on the small figure clutched in his arms.

“I found her in the garden, nearly frozen. None of you noted her absence? No one thought to check on her?”, he was nearly growling now, and still Elain did not move beyond the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“How long has it been since any one of you has seen her? How long had she been out there alone?”, he continued, simmering rage barely contained in his words.

He stalked over to the fire, his shadows piling on more logs and stoking the flames higher, and knelt before it. In truth, this was the closest he had been to open flame since his hands had been disfigured. While he had slowly grown accustom to sitting in those chairs closest to the hearth, kneeling here within arms reach was another trial all together.

But in this moment, he did not fall back, refusing to release his hold on the slowly thawing form in his arms.

“Everyone, out, now”, he vaguely heard Rhys command, drowned out by the boiling blood rushing in his ears.

“Azriel-”, it was Feyre, gently approaching and settling onto her knees beside them.

He couldn’t form a coherent thought, couldn’t speak aloud the words that threatened to spill from his mouth, lest he reveal the utter distaste and rage at their complete disregard for this most precious being in his arms.

Before Rhys could speak again, before he inevitably tried to take her from him again, Azriel once more placed his hand against her cheek. It had warmed slightly, a soft pink pallor now spreading across her skin.

Elain.

Elain.

Elain.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was merely thinking the word or speaking it aloud, reverently, like a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. He no longer saw anything but her face, felt nothing but the steady beating of her heart, and no one, not even Rhysand, could tear him from her in this moment.

Elain suddenly sighed, her eyes fluttering fully closed, as she shifted her body closer, curling against him. As her hand slowly found its way up his chest to the bare skin of his neck, he released a breath and clutched her tighter.

Her fingers were still icily cold, but they were brushing gently through the hair at the base of his scalp. Relishing this close contact, he would have been content to remain here with her in this moment forever. But the fact was that they were not alone, and even as he kept his eyes on her, he could feel Rhysand and Feyre’s on him.

“Elain”, he breathed, barely more than a whisper, tears of relief threatening to spill free from his eyes.

At that, Elain’s eyes opened again, still slightly hazed from her vision but once again warm and so richly brown they were nearly molten.

“Azriel?” It came out as a whisper, her hand stilling against his neck, as her brow furrowed in confusion.

Azriel, let her go now. Let Feyre check on her. Rhys spoke directly into his mind now, the words a clear command.

He spoke back, You can’t order me to do that, the words an echo of those he had uttered only a week prior, when Elain decides she is ready to get up, she will, and lowered his mental shield into place. If Rhysand had something more to say, he could say it out loud, in front of his mate.

“I found you, in the garden”, He dared to brush his thumb across her cheek, “You must have had a vision and collapsed. You had no coat, and were half frozen by the time I got you inside.”

At that her eyes cleared a but more, as if remembering what she had seen. Her fingers resumed drifting through his hair, and she whispered, “Oh…”

“Elain? Are you alright? We’re so sorry, we didn’t realize you had gone outside. I thought you had gone up to bed and-“, at Feyre’s voice, Elain started and pulled away from him, knowing now that they were not alone here.

She couldn’t quite get herself upright, so Azriel reluctantly rose and set her into the nearest armchair, taking just one more moment to tuck the blanket around her shoulders, before retreating. Her eyes tracked him across the room, and he suddenly couldn’t remember a time he had felt so empty, the absence of her leaving him feeling hollow and cold.

Rhysand once again tapped against his mental wall, and he acquiesced this time, bracing for what was sure to be more reprimand and orders.

We will speak about this later. Rhys’s voice sounded flat in his mind.

Fine. He replied, before slamming the shields back into place, shoving out his High Lord more aggressively than ever before.

Elain looked to Feyre then, a numb mask slipping over her face as she asked, “Can you take me to my room please?”

Feyre nodded only once before casting a look over her shoulder towards him and then her mate. Uncertainty shone in her eyes, but she grasped Elain’s outstretched hand and winnowed them away.

Before Rhys could start in on him, Azriel too took his leave, disappearing into his shadows, no sure destination in mind.

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Authors note: I always felt that the both of them would be utterly miserable and despondent after Solstice. Poor Elain, suffering yet another rejection, not understanding where she had gone wrong. The feelings of loss and confusion consuming her, similar but somehow worse even than after Greyson. And Azriel, questioning where his true loyalties lie, rebelling against that sense of owing Rhysand for taking him under his proverbial wing as a child, torn between doing what he was conditioned to do and what his heart is begging him to.

I have many thoughts as to how their story could play out. This fic is acting as a sort of writing exercise as I work up to starting my original story that I’ve been mulling over in my head for nearly a decade. If I can keep it together enough to continue, this fic will probably find its way over to AO3 eventually.

Expect to find angst, secret meetings, chance run ins, pining, hidden trysts, and overdue confrontation amongst other things in subsequent installments.

[nikachansstuff]

(So I rewatched Atonement yesterday and couldn’t help the idea from forming.)

My dear Elain,

I am truly sorry for my words-

Azriel scanned the words freshly tipped, and for the third time in the last hour, he removed the paper from the tipping machine and crumpled it in his tight fists. He closed his eyes, resting his lips in his hands that still hold the paper, savoring for a brief moment the scent of parchment.

Eight months.

Eight months since those words had left his mouth during Solstice, ending whatever sparked between them, and making him the only witness to Elain Archeron’s heartbreak. Eight months following his High Lord’s command.

Eight fucking months thinking about her during the day and dreaming about her during the nights. Imagining possible scenarios if he only had had the courage to leave that damned office straight to her bedroom and beg for her forgiveness.

Azriel opened his eyes, and his fingers found the keys again. Impulsively, he couldn’t help the words from forming.

Dear Elain,

In my dreams, I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts, I make love to you all day long.

Azriel

His eyes scanned the words again, as he finished tipping, a half smile slowly curving his lips. He ripped the paper from the machine, and let out a heavy sigh, reclining in the old chair.

Shaking his head, he couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips, at the absurdity of the words. He would never be so bold to say that words out loud, or to deliver the note, now double folded next to his cup of hot tea.

But somehow, Azriel could picture it perfectly: Elain opening the paper, her milky skin turning a soft blush while reading the words. She would lose a breath, her lips would part as it did that night. Then she would bit her bottom lip, her shyness giving away for the desire she would feel. Or wouldn’t…?

Eight months.

A lot could change in eight months. They haven’t spoke since that damned night, and Azriel refused to give in to his need to track her with his shadows. He wanted it, only the Mother knew the effort it took to not throw away his morals, and just give in to have some news from her. But he stood against it and kept away from her. As Rhysand had ordered him to do. As he was foolish enough to obey.

But he couldn’t anymore.

Dearest Elain,

My headaches increased alarmingly since we last saw each other. And I don’t think I can blame our loud friends anymore.

Your gift remains untouched by my nightstand. I like to keep it there, as a reminder of you and your gentleness.

Please forgive me for my words in our last encounter. The truth is my absence is the only way to keep me from acting my longing thoughts.

The truth is the only mistake was stopping before I could finally fulfill my dreams.

Sincerely,

Azriel

He finished tipping and signed his name in a neat handwriting. Losing a soft breath, Azriel folded the letter, and place it inside an envelope. In a quick movement, he wrote Elain Archeron at the blank front of it, letting it at desk. Finally lifting from the old armchair, he could start getting ready for the tonight’s dinner, hosted by his High Lord and Lady, at the River House.

Azriel took three long steps in direction of his in-suite bathroom and called a single shadow that wrapped itself in his forearm. Please take the note to Elain, at the Townhouse, he commanded silently, while undressing and entering in the enormous clawfoot bathtub.

It took him longer than usual to bathe. He allowed himself a moment to just relax in the hot water, letting his thoughts travel far while he washed. He left the bathroom, his body shivering from the different temperatures between rooms.

Azriel was finishing adjusting the syphon on his right hand, when he allowed his eyes to travel to his desk. Where the envelope with Elain’s name still rested in the dark wood. He hesitated for a second, his shadows slowly closing in on his ankles.

Suppressing the terror that threatened to take over his body, Azriel searched for the folded note close to his teacup. His tea now cold, the note now absent.

Well…

Fuck.

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Should I continue it?

[fauxdette]

The Wedding

Chapter 4: The Heart of an Archeron 🥂

Preview

"You think we were fighting about Mor," he said after another long minute.

"Weren't you?"

"No."

More silence.

"That wasn't my last question, by the way."

"Of course not."

Azriel sat up and shuffled closer, moving to pluck her glass from her hand and setting both their drinks on the floor beside the bed.

"Elain, do you think I like Mor?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it quickly, the words dying on her tongue. His eyes honed in on the movement, and combined with the feeling of his knee pressed against her own, her skin felt hot with awareness. His hand moved to cup her jaw, the pad of his thumb resting on the edge of her bottom lip. She wanted to lean into him, to rub herself against the scars and calluses of his hand.

"Ask me."

The authority of his tone sent a thrill through her.

"Do you like Mor?"

"No."

"Do you like me?"

[uxia15]

Late night doodles of a seer and a spymaster

[lovelyfawnxx]

apparently it’s elain day, so here’s a WIP of a commission i have coming up! i’ll most likely be posting it for my birthday.

i love our spooky little seer 🌸💜

[violetasteracademic]

WIP ask game snippet for @misskket and the Elriel's waiting on The Alchemy 😘

Elain Archeron is a labor and delivery nurse and ex teen beauty queen with dreams of travelling and a new life, but a paralyzing fear of planes and change.

Azriel is a world renowned photojournalist who hasn't stopped running from his past and his problems for over a decade, and scarcely spends more than a week in the same country.

Two diverging paths cross in Velaris when Azriel agrees to take a six month contract to help Rhysand and Cassian restore the lost reputation and funding for Velaris Memorial Hospital.

Honestly, who are we to fight the Alchemy?

Rough draft snippet:

Maybe I haven’t fully healed from losing our parents and becoming destitute at sixteen. Maybe I was using up too much bandwidth at my job as a labor and delivery nurse, working long and erratic hours and watching life and death move in a circle around me every day. But I needed something steady. I needed to feel like the ground beneath my feet wasn’t going to crumble away and send me into free fall.

Graysen is steady. He’s safe. We want the same things. He isn’t perfect, but neither am I. There are things I am never going to get out of this life, and I’m the only one to blame for it. But with Graysen Nolan, I can have enough.

That night I dreamed I was standing at the airport gate. The same one I fell apart in front of when I was seventeen.

A little girl with long golden brown hair stood at the open door to the jetway.

I don’t know who she is. She could be me or my mother, who took every opportunity to tell anyone who would listen I looked just like her when she was my age. Or perhaps she was my future daughter, who would look just like me, and the chain of indistinguishable old photos would live on. Maybe this little girl was some other ghost I’ve yet to meet. My dream won’t make it clear.

She turns to me and outstretches her tiny hand.

“Are you coming?” she asks.

I try to force myself to move, but I can’t. My feet are frozen to the ground, unable to take the steps forward. Too afraid to feel the earth fall away as I lift into the air and see the world grow smaller and smaller during the ascent into the sky.

Over the intercom, there is a last call for boarding. My heart shatters into a thousand tiny jagged pieces as the girls hazy face collapses, because she knows I am going to let her down. Wherever she is headed, I can’t go with her. I have to stay standing still. I have to keep my feet on the ground.

I know what happens if I get on that plane.

I am not a woman who flies.

[saraannereads]

The one where Az and Elain finally touch

Elriel fic WIP preview! Enjoy !

She wraps her arms around me and runs her fingers down my back, careful of my wings. In the past with other lovers, I wouldn’t stay in bed for long. But with Elain caressing my skin, I find myself laying my head on her chest and closing my eyes, a feeling of contentment filling me to the brim with something I can’t quite say out loud. Not yet.

“I guess I know why I rarely see Nesta now,” Elain says as she kisses my head. 

I look up at her wanting to ask what she means, but she’s almost whispering to herself, “I wouldn’t want to leave the room either.” 

I laugh as the meaning of her words rings clearer, and I’m more than a little bit proud to hear she enjoyed herself, though that was clear given the way her body responded to my touch. The noises she made. Not at all quiet and shy like I pictured in my fantasies. Just thinking of the way she sounded as she came undone has me stirring again. 

Elain sighs, her body tensing so slightly that it could be missed, but the movement doesn’t go unnoticed as she clears her throat and says, “I’m not sure what to say now, Azriel.”

I lift myself off of her warm, decadent body and roll over to my side to look at her more fully, an action she mirrors, and chuckle, “I think you just said something, Elain.”

@elriel-month

[dudlesdudles]

Elriel sketch

[duskandcobalt]

wip wednesday 💕

happy wednesday or should I say happy hump day 👀 (sorry)

Everywhere, everything snippet below… work still very much in progress so it’s rough xo

Hope you’re all doing well 💖✨

Before she could even register what was happenening, Azriel had her backed up against the bedroom door, his hips flush against hers. There was no room left to question what he was here for, no mistaking that his intentions matched exactly what she’d had in mind.

His hands were under her shirt, fingers skimming her breasts as he pulled it up and over her head.

“Wait,” Elain gasped, trying to put space between them with little to no success. “Feyre and Rhys…”

“Don’t wanna hear anyone else’s name right now, Lain.”

“It’s just… the wall,”

Her sister and Rhys were just next door, a cause for concern.

“Not the bed then,” Az shrugged, unbothered. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

Elain bit her lip, her mind at war with her body.

“Can you be quiet, Elain?”

[lunaatthezoo]

WIP whatever: our flower girl is crushing HARD.

🎨: @happilyeverafterreads (IG)

Elain felt herself blush once again, Mother spare her. It seemed that being turned fae did not rid her of her pesky blushing condition. And it was always especially virulent around Azriel.

It would help if he didn't have such perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

And dark sweeping eyelashes.

And full, broad lips that looked like they were made for worshipping a body.

And silken raven curls that kissed his brow, softening the planes of his face.

And tortured, churning hazel eyes that saw directly into her soul.

And a voice that sounded like a snowstorm at midnight.

And long, muscled arms and legs that looked like they could squeeze the life from an enemy equally as effectively as they could hold her tenderly.

And huge leathery wings that made him look like a god of legends.

And magnificent, dark shadows swirling around him marking him as something ancient and wild and primal and singular.

And scars like ivy.

Gods help her.

✨🪻🌘💕

[adifferentsortofstrength]

Close To Her Chest

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Part Two

Read Part One

I spent a while going through the bonus chapter and revising this part for timeline clarity! When I start posting to AO3, I’ll probably go back and rewrite some bits of part one as well. I’m still waiting for my invitation, but when I have a writing account username to share I’ll be sure to add it to these posts!

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Azriel?

He could still hear her voice as she said his name, it echoed in his mind over and over again as he paced the floor of his room at the House of Wind.

When he had left her in that armchair, Elain had looked at him as if he were a ghost, a mere apparition amongst the shadows of the sitting room. Before she had schooled her face into that blank expression, a mask he was all too familiar with wearing himself, he had glimpsed raw pain etched across her features.

He didn’t have to wonder why.

Knowing he was the source of that pain, even unwillingly, ate him alive inside. What a blindly obedient fool he had been to leave her standing in that foyer on Solstice. He wished with every fiber of his being that he could take back the words he had uttered that night. Words he never wanted to speak out loud, aimed only at himself, at what a mistake he had made in not seeking out a truly private place for that most defining moment in time.

He should have taken her out into the garden, for a walk along the Sidra, hells, even winnowed to the townhouse; anywhere would have been better than that exposed fucking foyer.

All reason and logic had been thrown to the wind the instant his ruined hands had brushed her neck and felt the warmth radiating off of her skin. He had been lost then, his sole reason for existence had been caught between every place their bodies touched.

When she hadn’t stepped away as his fingers came to rest on her spine, when she had instead moved beneath them and turned into his touch, he knew that he had crossed a line he could never step back from. His palm had laid against her neck then, and he had felt her pulse fluttering beneath it. And when her scent had hit him, it was far too late to keep any semblance of control. She had seen him, and offered permission. She had allowed his hand to delve into her hair, to tilt her head to the side. Had closed her eyes, unspoken trust in every action.

But then the real world had come crashing back down, as Rhys commanded him to leave her. Elain had apologized then. It was almost enough to send him to his knees, to beg for forgiveness. The same expression he had seen that night had been scrawled across her face in that sitting room.

After his confrontation with Rhys in the study, Azriel had fled to the training ring atop the House of Wind. He had hoped to work off some of the rage that had built up beneath his skin, but instead he found unwelcome company. Slipping back into the role of trainer had taken the edge off, and when he had gone down to his rooms he felt an unusual blanket of calm settle over him.

Despite this, he had barely slept.

When he had discovered the necklace tucked between his Solstice gifts the next morning, he’d intended to return it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels after the snowball fight with his brothers. But upon his painful defeat, the grief and anger of the past days slithering back in, he somehow found himself leaving it with Clotho in the library.

He still could not pinpoint what exactly had driven him to leave the necklace there, for Gwyneth of all people, in the first place. Prior to his run in with her in the training ring, he had never given the female a second thought. Trying to recall what had transpired between them was more difficult than it should have been. The hours after and up until leaving the library, the necklace tucked into a desk drawer, were clouded with a white haze and drowned in an indecipherable melody.

His mind had cleared considerably by the following morning, and now he thanked the gods that he had managed to correct at least one major fuck up, largely in part thanks to Clotho and her astutely observant nature. Something in his gut had drawn him back to the library, so early the sun had barely crested the horizon. He had expected to wait for Clotho to arrive for the day, but was relieved when he spotted her already sitting at her desk.

As soon as she saw the panicked expression on his face, a wry smile illuminated hers. Before he could even speak, she had turned and produced that box from her drawer. Clotho placed it onto the desk before him, but quickly scrawled on a piece of paper: Remember, Shadowsinger, that actions taken while lost to the fog of pain almost always result in more suffering for all.

She turned to the other side of the sheet.

And it would be rather… insensitive to gift a female a necklace with another’s initials engraved on the clasp.

He had blanched at this, remembering suddenly the ‘E.A.’ he’d gotten engraved last minute at the jewelers. He told himself that it stood for Elain Archeron, but truth be told, was secretly pleased that it could be interpreted another way.

Azriel had sheepishly taken the box back from Clotho and profusely thanked her, cheeks reddened with remorse, and made a hasty retreat to his chambers far above. It would be a good long while still before he could stand to show his face there again, but he had ensured a large bouquet of fragrant wildflowers was delivered that same afternoon to one very pleased priestess.

He felt the weight of that necklace, now clutched in his hand. At some point during his restless night he must have taken it from its box, had needed to keep it close to remind himself that the heat they had shared was real. Might still be real if he could just find a way to make it up to her, could find a way to explain everything.

He broke his pacing and strode over toward his bed. Carefully replacing the pendant in the drawer of his nightstand, he glanced briefly at the other items sitting atop it. That untouched bottle of headache powder and the incredibly useful little ear plugs. Azriel noted the shrine-like display and smiled softly.

His reverie was disrupted by the low grumbling in his stomach, a reminder that he had not eaten since before leaving Illyria the previous day. Deciding that enough time had passed for everyone to have dispersed from the breakfast table, he made his way to the main level of the House, silently praying to whoever would listen that he would avoid running into anyone.

Especially Rhysand.

We will speak about this later.

Azriel snorted at the pompous tone his brother assumed any time he pulled rank. What was there to speak about? It’s not like he sought her out, not really. Besides, if he hadn’t found her in that garden last night… he didn’t want to consider what might have happened then.

As he helped himself to a leftover almond scone and a large mug of dark coffee, he worried that if he didn’t find a way to speak to her soon that the damage done to their friendship on Solstice would become irreparable.

He washed down the last of the pastry and set the coffee cup on the table to be whisked away by the nearly omnipresent House. Not wanting to allow himself time to overthink, he made up his mind that he would go to the townhouse and try to speak to Elain. Striding over to the edge of the balcony, he observed the city. The afternoon sun shone brightly across the Sidra, casting brilliant light over the neighboring buildings and roadways.

Just as he was about to launch himself into the sky, his shadows noted the unmistakable sensation of someone winnowing nearby. Footsteps approached behind him from within the House, and he knew by the sound that it was Rhysand. Lately it seemed he had an uncanny ability to detect when Azriel was about to make a choice he didn’t agree with.

“Going somewhere?”

He contemplated whether or not he should just jump and make Rhys chase him across Velaris, but figured it was best to get this over with. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he turned to face the High Lord.

“I am,” was all he offered in reply, crossing his arms over his chest, wings tucking once more against his back.

Rhys walked out to join him on the balcony, hands in his pockets and a tempered expression on his face, “Tell me about last night.”

Straight to the point then.

“What is there to tell? I was flying back into Velaris, headed for the townhouse to join everyone. I saw Elain in the garden, and I carried her inside. You were there for the rest of it.”

“I was. And do you want to know what I saw?” he stepped closer, a flare of power in his eyes, “I saw you, Azriel, defying my direct order to stay away from Elain.”

Azriel shrugged, “As I told you already, you can’t order me to do that.”

“We have been over this,” Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose, one hand coming to rest on the ledge, “You know what is at stake. I cannot allow you to pursue her. If Lucien were to invoke the Blood Duel, it would cause immeasurable damage to the tentative peace we have forged in Prythian.”

He stiffened, a thread of his own power rising, “I will do my duty as a member of this court to preserve that peace. But I cannot, will not, stay away from Elain. You have no right to dictate the relationships of anyone in this court. I care for her. We are friends. I will not see her suffer to make your life just a bit easier.”

Rhysand, taken aback by this uncharacteristic defiance, growled out, “She has a mate Azriel-”

“A mate she could not care less for! A mate she can’t stand to be in the vicinity of! Tell me, brother”, it was his turn to growl now, his shadows trailing across his skin, “does it not matter what Elain wants? She deserves so much more than to have her choice ripped away from her, again. Over and over, she has been used as a pawn, treated as though her wants and needs do not matter. Is there no free will? Does she not get to determine what is best for herself?”

“And what if her choice is to accept the bond? Would you be content to accept that choice?” Rhys countered, his eyes hard on Azriel’s face.

He laughed, a dry, humourless sound, “Of course I would. Even if she were to choose never to speak to me again, that would be her choice. And I would honor it. Can you say the same? If she were to choose to reject the bond, would you be content to accept that?”

Before his brother could respond, Azriel leaped from the balcony and allowed himself to free-fall for a moment. When he extended his wings and caught the wind, he looked back, and Rhys was gone.

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When the silence that permeated her room was abruptly disturbed by a knock at her door, Elain drew the covers up and rolled onto the far side of the bed. The events of last night were still roiling through her mind, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. Just another embarrassment to add to the ever growing list of regrets she now carried.

“Elain? Are you awake?” Feyre called out from the hallway, “I brought you some water and breakfast.”

She remained silent, hoping that her well intentioned sister would get the hint and leave her alone. Squeezing her eyes shut, as though sheer will would be enough to buy her a few more hours of solitude, Elain held her breath and waited for the inevitable sound of retreating footsteps. When instead she heard the latch on her door click open, she sighed out the breath she had been holding, and opened her eyes.

Feyre stood in the doorway, one hand still on the knob as though unsure if she should continue on into the darkened room. By the vibrance of the sunlight pouring over her shoulders, Elain guessed it was closer to midday than morning.

Her sister stepped hesitantly into the room and closed the door, approaching the side table to set down her tray. As if it wasn’t enough to enter unbidden, Feyre perched on the edge of her bed and looked down towards her half hidden face.

“How are you feeling today? I hope I didn’t wake you, it’s just that it’s nearly noon and we hadn’t heard you get up yet, so I was worried,” her sister babbled nervously, fidgeting with the bedlinen, “We’re all worried, truthfully. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here to listen if you do.”

Elain shifted her gaze to meet her sister’s eyes, the blue there, normally so bright, now dimmed with concern. Whether it was concern for her wellbeing or the content of her vision, though, had yet to be determined.

“I don’t,” she managed to whisper.

“Oh. Are you sure? It’s just that, since Solstice…since Solstice something has seemed to be bothering you. If it’s your Sight, if something is happening with your visions, maybe we can help? Or we can find someone who might know more than we do?”

Elain sighed again, resisting the urge to completely disappear beneath the blankets and wait Feyre out, “It’s not my Sight. It’s nothing.”

I’m nothing.

When Feyre did not reply, Elain worried she had accidentally spoken her thoughts aloud. While she couldn’t bring herself to resume her mask of the pleasant, gracious sister she had donned for all those years, at the very least she could keep the darkest of her psyche contained.

“I’m not feeling well. Thank you for the water and food, but I would like to be alone and rest some more,” Elain struggled to make her voice sound even halfway neutral, but it appeared to do the trick.

Feyre simply nodded before standing again, and made her way to the door.

“Should you need anything, anything at all, just call out,” she stated from the doorway, “Feel better, Elain.”

And with that, she was gone.

Hours later, she drug herself from the bed and into the washroom. Going through the motions of bathing and dressing purely out of habit, rather than a desire to be presentable, she finished plaiting her hair back and assessed herself in the oversized, full length mirror.

Elain took in her dull blue dress and bare face, her brown eyes flat and emotionless. Her mother would be ashamed of how little effort she put in, would remind her that the only strength she had was her beauty. Her face twisted in disdain, for herself or her mother she wasn’t quite sure.

As it was unlikely going to get any better than this, she turned and walked quietly to her bedroom door. One deep breath later, she stepped out into the hallway and paused, listening for who was still in the townhouse. Left her to babysit her no doubt, like all those months ago when she was still lost in the murky depths of her unknown power.

To her surprise, she could not sense anyone else in the house.

Elain hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen, but found a note left on the counter.

Elain,

Went to the Rainbow for an afternoon class. I’ll be back before dinner. I’ve asked the others to give you some space, so it will be just you and I tonight.

Feyre

A small rush of relief hit her as she realized she truly was alone here, at least for now. Plenty of time to do some baking to get her mind off the events of last night.

Though as she prepped the ingredients to make some dinner rolls, Elain’s mind continued to wander, and she recalled the vision that had overtaken her in the garden.

A dark forest clearing, surrounded by gnarled old trees. A sudden wind whipped through the branches. Two figures cloaked in darkness stood in the midst of it, hand in hand. A surge of power, a feeling of clarity, and a moment's silence.

The worst of her visions were those which were entirely unclear. Why was this particular scene so inherently important as to be shown to her? It was not evident if it was a warning or a promise of something to come. The figures were completely obscured, the location was impossible to determine. Just remembering that amount of detail took immense effort and focus. Often, she would emerge from a vision with no recollection of it at all.

Frustrating was an understatement. She resented her power. Why couldn’t the Cauldron give her something clear cut? Healing? Winnowing? Anything would be better than this.

As her dough came together, she found her hands kneading and stretching absentmindedly. Her thoughts swirled around her mind, ruminating on how unfair it all felt.

Her sisters, both incredibly powerful. Both happily mated. It seemed that only she still struggled to adapt to this new life, even this long after it had been forced upon them all. Why couldn’t she master her powers like Feyre had? Why couldn’t she accept the cursed mating bond that had been thrown at her like Nesta?

She had a rolling pin in hand now, and the poor dough ball on the counter was taking the brunt of her anger. Over and over she rolled it out, folded it in, rolled it out, folded it in again. Just when she was beginning to exhaust herself, there was a light knock. Not on the front door, but the one leading into the garden.

Still leaning over the counter, grasping the rolling pin once more, she looked over.

And there stood Azriel, a mildly amused expression on his face as he stood patiently outside, clearly waiting to be invited in.

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Authors note: Nothing really big happened in this chapter, but we got a little more insight into how Elain and Azriel are feeling, so I thought it was important to include.

The vast majority of my editing surrounded the confrontation between Azriel and Rhysand. In my first draft, Azriel just talked way too much. As a man of few words, waxing poetic for multiple paragraphs was just not in character. Even if it was in defense of Elain and his feelings for her :3

[lady-of-tearshed]

Work in progress...

Azriel was staring at your lips. Those full sultry lips painted with that same shade of pink Elain loves to wear.

Only, you weren’t Elain.

He tried to convince himself that he could get over it, get over Elain. He could love, praise, and touch another female without thinking about her.

Could he?

A/N: Yes, yes. I'm in an angsty mood, so what? Huh?! What are you going to do about it if I feel like torturing our precious Shadow Singer? Yeah, that's what I thought. 🤨💕

[fauxdette]

The Wedding

Chapter 1: Hot Weather Girl 🌦️

Preview

Then Nesta looked behind her, to the fourth figure who had intentionally held back. Even from afar, Elain had recognized him; but at least at that distance she was outside the magnetic field that seemed to draw them together. From this proximity, however, it was a different story. She was close enough to see every streak of green in his hazel eyes. Close enough that the smell of ice and pine enveloped her as he stepped forward.

"Elain."

Close enough that every thought in her mind eddied out and was replaced by a single memory—a memory of scarred hands stroking

her neck and warm lips pressed against her skin. Of her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands unbuttoning his crisp white shirt.

And Elain knew she was completely and irrevocably fucked.

"Hi, Azriel."

[uxia15]

Late night doodles of Death and his lovely fawn

[gracieart]

WIP 🫣

I love painting hair and skin and freckles hehe