#tw elriel

[achaotichuman]

The Mother's Least Favourite Son

Out of spite, I have written this. Hope you guys like broken mating bond Lucien angst.

Trigger warning- Suicide.

Lucien stumbled through the dark. Tripping over something thrown carelessly across the cobblestone ground, an arm shot out to grab the nearest wall to stabilise himself. Skin scraping against the cold wet stone, it burned as it pulled away, blood beginning to prick the surface. 

Why? 

Why did it have to-

He lurched forward, and a crate at his feet caused him to fall to the ground. Dirty water splashed across his face, ruining his formerly perfect clothing. His trousers now wet and stained. His pristine Night black jacket now half covered with mud. 

Fuck-

It lurched in his chest again. Screaming like a torture victim locked in a cage. Bleeding from the inside.

Golden threads that were cut and exposed like raw nerves. His heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. His hair fell around his face. Rain dripped down from above, beginning to race faster and faster to the surface of the earth, until it hurtled down upon him. 

The stars were no longer visible. The alleyway, and the darkness it provided was his only comfort or protection. 

A sob ripped from deep within the back of his throat. Each pitter of rain that fell upon him he felt starkly. Like needles were pouring down on him. 

Why?

What did he do wrong?

Fuck-

He asked for an answer, did he not?

He wanted to know what she wanted. 

Break it, or accept it. 

He offered his heart on a platter. 

Like his heart would ever be enough. 

He fell back against the wall behind him. Eyes tilted to the sky. 

What the fuck did he do to deserve this?

The sky held no answers, nothing spoke back to him. As his skin burned, flesh bubbling under the surface. 

The thunderclouds rolling in the sky tormented him. Laughing as it was split with lightning. Turning the sky to flashing works of silver. Velaris was laughing around him. The Court his mate belonged to pointed and ridiculed the outcast that thought it could crawl in and find comfort. 

No home Court. No mate. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. The Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Her eyes had held no remorse. No care. She hadn’t even put down her knife, as she cut vegetables on the wooden board. She looked up to him. Those soft brown iris had never looked harder. 

“Please, just an answer.”

The Inner Circle stood around him. Feyre flanking Elain’s left, and Nesta on her right. Rhysand picked a piece of lint from his jacket, eyes laughing even as his mouth was firmly straight. Cassian however looked fully and utterly amused at the situation. Azriel stood behind Elain, eyes dead on Lucien. Waiting like a trap to be sprung. 

“Then here’s your answer.” Elain whispered into the space between them. 

Then it broke. 

And Lucien screamed. 

Cassian practically dragged him out. His legs unable to hold him up for long periods of time. They let him fall to the ground. Rain starting. There was no sympathy in his eyes, not even a hint of pity. Just laughing amusement as the door slammed shut. 

Even from out there, in the cold of the night with the door separating the Fox from the inside, he could hear the cheering and the celebrations.

Chest heaving, skin too tight, fire burning and burning and burning. 

Through a window he saw the form of Azriel, shadowsinger, wrap his arms around his rejected mate. 

Lucien had run. 

Run and fell across the floor, scraping his arms before he ran again. 

Another wretched cry was torn from his throat, as he screamed to the sky, “Why? Why fucking me?”

What did I do wrong?

Hated son. 

Exiled. Outcasted. 

Were mates not supposed to love each other more than sun or moonlight? 

Were they not supposed to rather give themselves up then each other?

Where were the stories? Where were the tales? Why did he not get that?

Fucking why?

The cold rain dripped from strands of his hair, down his face, and disappeared down his neck. His body began to shiver, wishing, begging, to draw up fire to warm himself. He let his body shudder and quake, barely feeling the cold pressing in under the weight of the bond now floating out in nothing. 

Darkness edged in, spreading from some place in his chest through the rest of his body. Until he felt hollow, unseeing. Lucien could barely hear anything at all. 

A sharp pain shot through his side, and he looked up to see a male with green hair and purple skin. Wide eyes, all black, glaring down at him. 

“Beat it kid, no loitering around here.” He snarled. 

“Sorry, I’m, I’m sorry.” Lucien said quickly, voice quivering. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The male said, as Lucien got to his stumbling feet. As the Fox made for the mouth of the alleyway, he heard him mutter, “Stupid kids.”

Stupid kid. 

Stupid kid indeed. 

Lucien left the alleyway. The rain pounded down harder, the thrum resembled the beating of drums. Lightning forked, and thunder cracked the sky. A familiar song, a dance that had followed him since the day Jesminda had been slaughtered in front of him. 

He had spent his days running from the song. The beating that would never cease, howling through the night, hurtling towards him. 

Death did not come silently. 

It came with war horns, riding into battle like screaming a cry. Music played in its wake. A tune no one had heard but everyone knew. 

Lucien closed his eyes, as his heart fell into sync with the beat. His voice a gentle hum as thunder whipped again. As that song raised its tune. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked ahead. And he winnowed. 

The view of Velaris gave way to dark foliage. Oranges and reds covered one side of the earth, and the other was filled with spidering dark greens and untrained brambles. 

The border of Spring and Autumn. 

The rain had not stopped. The storm had spread through Prythian as if waiting for him. 

It poured down upon him, until he was practically drowning on land. The ground of Autumn was practically unrecognisable as such, as the dried leaves were turned to muddy decay by the rain. 

Lucien fell back and stared up at the sky. 

A familiar tune. 

It had been waiting for him. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. 

He closed his eyes. 

He hoped he wouldn’t ever open them again. 

***

Three years passed and it never got better. 

It got worse. 

So, so much worse. 

Waking up and seeing the ceiling was agony. Most days he stopped bothering trying to get out of bed. Eating had become a rare occasion, so much so that Jurian and Vassa couldn’t hide their excitement when he took so much as a half bite out of his food. 

He didn’t know if Prythian remembered him; he hadn’t set foot in any of the Courts since the day Tamlin found him at the border. That was at least what he was told when he woke up. Something about the rotting High lord bringing him to the Band of Exile’s manor before disappearing back to Spring. 

Lucien didn’t care. All his thoughts were drowned out by mate, mate, mate, mate. 

He couldn’t think of anyone, of anything else, other than her brown eyes, and curls, and red stained cheeks and lips.

There was nothing else to him, nothing anymore. 

He stopped hoping she would return to him. As the darkness, the hollowness caved in. Pillars of marble in his mind turning to dust, whatever he used to know becoming nothing in the face of the broken bond. 

The last time he spoke, he didn’t know. The last time he went outside, he didn’t know. 

His skin was pasty, grey. His eyes deep with purple. Every bone on display, with his prosthetic eye sinking back into his socket, falling back from the shift in weight. 

His body was decaying. 

He stared at the ceiling. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

This would go on. 

And on.

And on, and on, and on. 

Prythian had forgotten him. His mate had rejected him. His last two friends, the last he could consider friends, were tied up with each other. 

He wasn’t worth his mate’s love. He wasn’t worth being remembered. 

“Might as well get it over with.” Lucien whispered to the ceiling, the first words he had vocalised in so long. 

For the first time in what may have been a week or more, he dragged himself from the bed he had practically become attached to. Limbs heavy, eyes fluttering, pain struck him from all sides and he wanted to fall back down and rot. 

But Jurian or Vassa would eventually convince him to a meal or something to keep him going if he stayed on the bed. 

So he walked. 

He walked to a dresser, where beside it laid a bag. It had all sort of provisions and things needed should he have been stranded somewhere in Prythian. He kept it packed ever since he was thrown out of Autumn. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Inside one of the back pockets was a long spiral of coarse rope. Rough against his weary hands as he pulled it out, a sudden disruption to the soft sheets Lucien was used to holding these days. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

The curtain rod was sturdy and could hold a fair amount of weight, not that it mattered very much as he was practically just skin and bones. It took little to stand atop a chair by the window and put the rope over the rod. Part of Lucien wished Eris had never taught him to tie knots, if only so he didn’t know what to do now. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

It was rough around his neck. He felt nothing. He didn’t want to feel anything. 

It was sunny outside. The flowers were in bloom. He saw Elain in the sunshine. In the flowers below him. He saw home in the ground, in the trees in the distance. He remembered the feelings of Autumn leaves under his hands. And he remembered the smell of pollen from Spring. He remembered the chill of Night’s air. 

He remembered her soft skin when he put his jackets over her arms after she came out of the Cauldron. 

Lucien let go of all memory as he let himself swing from the curtain rod. 

He hoped he wouldn’t remember in the Mother’s land of milk and honey. 

Mother’s least favourite son. 

Cauldron’s hated creation. 

[ater-love]

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

Fuck Elriel is so hot, no one compares

Art by the magnificent Kanescribbles on twitter

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Tw: violence against women and children mentioned.

I have been an Anti-Facist Norse pagan for almost 15 years (a pretty lonely life ngl) and the best thing to come of this is my skill to sniff out alt right, facist propaganda before anyone else. Everyone tells me "it's not that deep" until they realize, yep it is that deep.

The ACOTAR books have now been added to my list of Alt Right pipelines and I am convinced that SJM herself is either currently a facist or will be spiraling towards it soon.

If any criticism of the main characters, inner circle, Night court values draws you into a frenzy where you need to use a 1300 word straw man argument to lower your heart rate and pat yourself on the back, you need to do some self reflecting.

Like who you like, I don't honestly care, I'm not here for friends, but if you justify literal Jim Crowe laws because "those people will ruin our beautiful perfect city" I am going to side eye you. That is not something a healthy, non racist, Pro humanity person fantasizes about. There is not a single, natural born illyran woman who can use her own wings under the 500 year rule of "the most powerful high lord." Fantasizing about a lazy sex crazed leader who still allows the breaking of children's bones for misbehaving, is not normal. I am not going to trust you if you justify and praise violence toward children, even fictional children.

The fact that you will go to war to defend the abhorrent policies and actions of the NC when people try to have critical discussions about the texts is shocking to say the least.

Every single character in these books are subject to criticism. SJM herself is subject to criticism for the way in which she portrays these communities and glosses over the unjust policies. The way the Jim Crow laws in Velaris were introduced is a common manipulative tactic to desensitize the reader to the policy itself, paving a way for it to, once again, exist in our world. "It just a fantasy book calm down" no. Media has always been a large method to distribute propaganda.

I don't give half a fuck who Elain ends up with but please, please, please criticize the Night court and recognize it's atrocities or it will affect how you vote and how you see the world around you.

[feyresdandelion]

tw cancer

while this post mentions elriel a couple of times, it is basically a vent post. I’m still going to tag it as elriel because I talk about them, but don’t read it if you don’t want. You aren’t missing anything.

I’m honestly just so fucking emotionally drained and exhausted at the moment. I need sjm to drop elriel’s book soon just so I can take my mind off things.

My youngest aunt (38) fainted a couple of days ago and once she got to the ER we discovered she had two massive tumors in both of her ovaries (17 cm in her left, 9 cm in her right), just to then discover today that she not only has those two but also another one on her stomach. My mom works on healthcare and works with the gyno my aunt has so she asked him and he basically told her that the cancer was very advanced and they didn’t know if they were going to be able to operate.

My paternal grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of months ago, my grandfather died of lung cancer either last year or the year before that (right now I’m extremely tired and timelines are very blurry) and my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer (also at 38) and then died in 2017 because it metastasised into her spine.

I fucking hate cancer so much. I’m so tired. Just give elriel to me so I can escape this hellhole for a couple of days.

[theshadowsingersraven]

And case in point.

I mean this so seriously: Get help.

You should never consider text on a page a "fellow woman". Speculating about what a fictional character might be thinking/feeling in a series where the love interests famously show external behaviors that don't match their internal feelings/thinking is normal and fine.

If you're worried about perpetuating rape culture genuinely, maybe actually step away from harassing people online and instead encourage real people who matter and have actual boundaries to communicate healthily, to have sexual education access, mental health resource access, and the necessity of further dismantling of toxic masculinity and it's chokehold on men.

The only thing you contribute to by posting this online is shaming and helping me navigate who I would never want anything to do with. Ever. Ships don't matter to me when you use something as serious as rape culture as a card to be played regarding fake people pretend kissing.

I think the reason why I keep coming back to feeling that the E/riel side of this fanbase needs reminding that Elain isn't real (even though they literally know this, and I know they do.) is because they're the ones frequently treating the currently unresolved narrative issues as if they can be resolved with what people in REAL LIFE would do.

i.e. Lucien should just take the hint and move on, Elain and Azriel should just be together, Elain shouldn't "grovel" for a man she's uncomfortable around (I don't love the word grovel tho tbh. I think if it suits the narrative then an apology could be satisfying, but currently I don't feel that it's owed? I can see how people are frustrated with the lack of communication and might want Elain to acknowledge that.) Elain and Azriel already like each other so that should be enough, Elain's body language should be enough, etc.

None of those apply to characters in an unresolved romantic conflict within a narrative.

You can't resolve narrative conflicts how you would resolve interpersonal conflicts in real life. The purpose of a narrative is to entertain and captivate an audience while getting across the story, message, overall theme, etc. The entertaining aspects are often but not limited to difficult character interactions, drama, stakes, angst, discomfort, hurt, anger... all things we don't want in real life.

This is what I mean when I say people are elevating Elain to a status of personhood and why it's such a problem because of its far-reaching consequences. Her being humanized to this point means people reject the idea that she should have an arc with consequences for her choices/actions, stakes, challenges if they include Lucien, etc. Particularly if it involves addressing her character flaws or conflict avoidance. These things are not bad for Elain.

Characters are like diamonds. They're forged and become multi-faceted under pressure. We can let Elain be forged. It will not hurt her overall as a character to have to face things. If anything, it's overdue.

[offtorivendell]

What you all seem to be missing is that this isn't even a topic of infertility, it's of delivery. The discussion is NEVER "can Elain get pregnant" because the problem was not "could Feyre get pregnant." The plot introduced into the series was what happens after she became pregnant and carried the baby to term, could a non Illyrian safely deliver a baby with wings which has now carried over into the discussion of Elain since it's canon that Feyre and Nesta were changed while we were not told the same of Elain. It's not a reason Elain can't be with Az but it is a valid topic of discussion within this series since the author posed it as a plotline. In the real world, most women safely choose a Caesarean section if they're dealing with delivery issues in their pregnancy so acting like delivering a winged baby has real world implications is simply you jumping on a pedestal for something to yell about. That's not to say there aren't delivery issues in the real world but this scenario is not one of them.

TW: death, infertility, pregnancy and childbirth related trauma. Also a brief mention of sexual assault.

Hi anon,

Respectfully, please stop being deliberately obtuse. Let's break this down, line by line.

What you all seem to be missing is that this isn't even a topic of infertility, it's of delivery. The discussion is NEVER "can Elain get pregnant" because the problem was not "could Feyre get pregnant."

I'm aware! I assume that you sent me this ask because I reblogged an old post of mine yesterday, so what you seem to be missing is that I've already discussed this.

Here, where I implicitly acknowledged both infertility and trauma related to pregnancy and childbirth as potential triggers in the post:

And here, where I explicitly stated that we know you guys don't mean that Elain is unable to conceive at all - which is impossible to know, as per the text she hasn't tried. If you read what I wrote, you'd see I said that - assuming Nesta had not changed her anatomy and would not be able to in the future, or that Elriel would even conceive winged children if they wanted kids at all - Elain and Azriel together would be functionally infertile*, as any child with wings (which is not a guarantee, by the way, though as you guys treat it as a foregone conclusion I worked off that premise) would die before or during birth, killing Elain at the same time.

* Is it more correct to say they'd suffer from "impaired fecundity"? Yes! But please read a little further.

The plot introduced into the series was what happens after she became pregnant and carried the baby to term, could a non Illyrian safely deliver a baby with wings which has now carried over into the discussion of Elain since it's canon that Feyre and Nesta were changed while we were not told the same of Elain.

It's really not hard to understand that we are discussing a fictional woman's ability to successfully have a specific man's children, and that their impaired fecundity does not (or should not) impact her worthiness to be loved by that man; that it has been equated to the struggles that many real, living people have experienced with regards to conceiving, carrying their babies to term and giving birth; and that - while an oversimplification - all these issues are being lumped under the umbrella of "infertility struggles" to be concise and accessible.

That being said, let me correct you quickly. While you very carefully said that we were "not told the same of Elain," with regards to Nesta changing her anatomy, you neglected to mention that SJM actually had her choose wording that didn't explicitly exclude Elain from the change, either.

The brisk spring wind whipped her golden-brown hair across her face. “I gave it back to the Cauldron in exchange for the knowledge of how to save them.” She swallowed. “But a little remains. I think something else—someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it. And I made some changes of my own.” The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back. Perhaps it was she who had peered out at them through the Mask. “What did you change?” Nesta rested a hand on her abdomen. “I changed myself a little, too. So none of us will have to go through this again.” - ACOSF, chapter 78

Also of note, Nesta specified she had the "knowledge" to perform the change, which suggests that even if Elain wasn't changed then, it could be done in the future.

It's not a reason Elain can't be with Az...

Literally all that ever needs to be said on the topic.

... but it is a valid topic of discussion within this series since the author posed it as a plotline.

You should have stopped after the first half of the sentence. Elain's lack of pliable bones - ie. the second half of the "Illyrian womb" discussion that posits Gwyn as the only logical love interest - is not even a medically accurate theory, so it shouldn't be entertained full stop. While SJM may have posed Illyrian womb/wing issues as an issue for Feyre and Rhys, she never suggested it would impact any couple's decision to get or stay together. In fact, Nesta and Cassian were mates while Nesta was still unable to birth winged babies, too.

In the real world, most women safely choose a Caesarean section if they're dealing with delivery issues in their pregnancy so acting like delivering a winged baby has real world implications is simply you jumping on a pedestal for something to yell about. That's not to say there aren't delivery issues in the real world but this scenario is not one of them.

Once again I'm asking you to put your thinking cap on.

Obviously we do not have to consider the delivery of winged babies in the real world, but if you cannot see how the frequent suggestion (that Elain's hypothetical inability to successfully have Azriel's children is a valid reason as to why an author would separate, or even hint at separating, a potential couple) could be hurtful and upsetting to the many people who have/are currently struggling with infertility - or who have lost their much wanted and loved babies during the course of pregnancy or childbirth - then I have to assume that you're either suffering from a catastrophic lack of empathy or, respectfully, you have a sheep or two loose in the top paddock.

As I mentioned in the post I linked above, if the fandom is (rightfully!) expected to handle the topic of Gwyn finding love after experiencing SA with grace - out of respect for real life assault survivors - then it is not wrong to expect the same degree of care in return when discussing the anatomy change in ACOSF, out of respect for those who have trauma associated with infertility, pregnancy and childbirth in real life. It's an incredibly simple act to listen in good faith, rather than jumping straight to accusing us of wanting to "yell about" something just because you are prioritising shipping discourse over being kind.

It's 2025, the "Elain doesn't have an Illyrian womb or pliable bones" theory is both medically inaccurate and hurtful, and it really needs to end here.

Please.

[moonkissed-reverence]

Guilty as Sin

Elain gets interrogated by the Spymaster of the Night Court

Prompt: Guilty as Sin for @elriel-month

3k | Dark Elriel | Duel POV | NSFW | Mind the tags

TW: Explicit, CNC, Kidnapping, BDSM, Praise, Hurt/Comfort

Azriel

Azriel had been away in Vallahan on a three day mission and he couldn’t fucking wait to return home. The mission was supposed to be five days so he was thrilled he could return early and surprise Elain.

The morning before he left, she told him about a dream she had while they sat in the garden, sipping tea and watching the sunrise. A simple pastime they enjoyed together. A serene moment while the world was quiet, only the sweet sound of birdsong and his beautiful wife, glowing in the rising sun.

Elain consumed his thoughts always, but this dream had him in a chokehold. When he finally reached the veranda of the townhouse just after midnight he was breathless and winded from his high speed flight.

He ran a hand through his mused locks and adjusted himself.

Quiet as a predator in the night, Azriel moved through the house to their bedroom where Elain was sleeping soundly, hugging her pillow, her ivory nightgown bunched up around her hips, with a leg thrown atop the silken amethyst comforter. It was mid summer and a warm breeze floated through the open windows.

Azriel stood there for a few reverent heartbeats admiring his perfect, beautiful, angelic wife. Her soft creamy skin aglow in the moonlight.

He sent his shadows to trail over her body while he slid her underwear to the side and ran a finger through her pussy from behind, unsurprisingly she was a little wet—she always had filthy dreams, much like this one. She stirred in her sleep, letting out a little whimper before he dipped a finger inside.

Elain moaned sleepily. “Shhh…sweetheart,” he said before sucking his honey-coated finger then gently pried open her mouth and stuffed her underwear inside. Gently, yet swiftly he gathered her hands behind her back, binding them in shadows before moving on to her ankles then pulled a blindfold from his pocket and tied it around her eyes, making her vision go dark. The sound of her frantic cries muffled by her underwear as she tried to fight him off.

Gods, his cock was already hard as a rock—this would be torture for them both but it would be worth it.

He removed the earplugs she got him one year for solstice from his other pocket and pushed them into her ears.

Then rumbled in her ear, though she could not hear, “You’re gonna lose your pretty little mind, baby.” He gathered her into his arms and whisked her away to the Court of Nightmares…

Elain

She was dreaming of her husband's touch, his voice—a melodic whisper when she was suddenly ripped from her bed being carried away—drifting through the abyss for a few fleeting moments until she was set upon a cool hard ground. Her bare feet felt the smooth yet grainy texture of stone and a slight chill against her exposed skin through her light cotton nightgown. It smelled of damp earth and minerals. Where were they?

She wavered, barely able to stay upright. Her underwear stuffed in her mouth—leaving her to taste her own arousal. It was completely dark and all she could hear was her heart beating frantically in her chest and she knew she was now at the mercy of the Spymaster of the Night Court—she’d know his scent anywhere, in any lifetime. The thought sent a thrill straight to her core.

She stood still and trembling, unable to move with her bound ankles lest she fall over.

After a few heartbeats she felt a tug at her nightgown before it fell away completely followed by a harsh tug of her hair, pulled taut on the loosening braid, yanking her head back to expose her neck. A whisper of breath against her throat. Then a hot wet tongue and plush lips met her skin sucking hard—biting and bruising. Soft ridged fingers brushed featherlight against the underneath of her breast then circled around her nipple. Then her ankles were released at once but immediately gripped by large hands and each ankle was fastened once again, this time spread wide and unable to move an inch.

Her hands were released only to be pulled up over her head and fastened above her. She whimpered. Her underwear were removed from her mouth and she quickly sucked in a few frantic deep breaths before a glass of water was brought to her mouth. As the cup was tilted she greedily drank, water spilling over her naked body then a soft and sensual kiss was placed upon her wet lips.

She went to kiss him back but he pulled away. “Az—” Elain gasped in a quick cry for mercy? For his touch? For more? She was consumed by some innate terror without having sight or sound but her pussy ached for his touch. Azriel just gave her one more soft kiss before he shoved a ball gag into her mouth, forcing her mouth open wide. She whimpered around it as he facened it and new tears began to stream down her face soaking the blindfold.

A finger trailed along her cheek then gently pushed the hair out of her face. The touch lasted only a moment before she was left completely bound and gagged in chilling silence. A shiver rocked through her. Long minutes passed without any touch and she began to panic—frantically mumbling around the gag.

She didn’t know how long she stood alone, or not alone, she did not know. It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour without touch—she was starting to lose sense of time. Struck with the feeling of isolation, her heart rate spiked once again.

Then without warning a finger slipped through her center and she shuttered against the bindings, releasing a muffled moan or cry—she wasn’t sure but saliva was now running down the corners of her mouth. Her jaw beginning to ache. But as his finger gently fucked her pussy and his other hand trailed along her body, caressing her, cupping her breasts, pinching her taut nipples, pleasure took over. She was going to come. Between the intense fear of the unknown and the slight touches but also knowing that it was at the hands of her husband, the feared torturer of the Night Court—whom she had shared this very dream with—had her mind reeling and her body thrumming. But then his touch was gone, leaving her empty and aching for more.

And once again she was alone.

Though she didn’t have to wait long this time before touch returned. This time it came as a gentle caress of her ass. She knew what would come next, it would be nothing new. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose just before a harsh slap followed. She cried out as another came down hard then his hand slid down in another soft caress before roughly cupping her throbbing pussy from behind. She tried to ground onto his palm for friction before he inevitably left her again.

A few heartbeats passed when something cold and hard was inserted into her pussy. She tried to clench and reject it but her legs were spread too far apart. Once the stone-like object was fully inserted, the most intense sensation she’s ever experienced jolted through her, sending her body into overdrive. Extreme pleasure flooded her body from head to toe. She was a living flame. Her muffled sobs echoing in her head.

The only feeling that remained were the vibrations radiating from her pussy and while she longed for his hands on her body she was instead met with the cold, sharp touch of…

A blade!

…Her eyes widened beneath the blindfold as a blade no other than Truth Teller, hummed against her skin, trailing the tip slowly up her thigh. Her breath hitched and body trembled as it grazed along her stomach and under the curve of her breast. Then in one quick motion the blade cut the blindfold from her eyes.

Rapidly blinking the tears away as her sight adjusted in the dim light.

A whisper of breath grazed her neck making her shiver before ridged hands slid around her from behind gliding up her stomach, cupping her breasts within his palms with a sweet caressing touch while his mouth clamped down between her neck and shoulder making her shudder. Her arousal dripping down her legs as he finally appeared before her.

Her frantic eyes settled wide on the beautiful male before her, fully dressed in his Illyrian leathers, blue siphons aglow in the dim light of the…dungeon? Where were they? The Court of Nightmares? It didn’t matter—she was slowly fracturing, piece by piece at the spymaster's mercy.

She let out a cry that could not be heard.

Azriel kissed the corner of her parted lips around the gag, then gently brushed his fingers along her face, tucking her damp hair behind her ear. He gave her a sinister smile and mouthed words she could not hear.

The hum of the vibrating stone so low keeping her on the edge of oblivion. It was all too much and not enough.

Azriel

Gods, she was so fucking beautiful. Bound, gagged and falling apart, drenched and whimpering—completely at his mercy, just like she dreamt.

He dreamt of this too. Many times.

Now he needed to look into those beautiful brown doe eyes and even more he needed to hear her cries of pleasure and pain—hear his name on her lips while she begged for more.

“How bad do you want my cock, beautiful?” He asked her knowing full well she couldn’t hear him, she mumbled over the gag wide-eyed. Her beautiful face a mess of saliva and tears. Her golden brown locks in complete disarray. It had been braided—which he hated and took care of immediately after he cut off her hideous nightgown. The only good thing about her gods forsaken nightgowns was that they provided easy access to her bare body beneath and why he hadn’t destroyed them all. He knew she was only wearing it because he wasn’t home.

He removed the ear plugs from her ears and whispered, his breath a caress against her ear, “I can’t hear you sweetheart. I said, ‘How bad do you want my cock, Lain?” His voice low and grating.

She mumbled incoherently around the gag before he finally reached around her head and unfastened it, slowly removing the ball from her wet and aching mouth. She let out a breathy whimper as more tears fell from her eyes. He gently rubbed her jaw to loosen some of the tension.

“Azriel,” she breathed as his hand soothed her jaw, “I want it, please!”

“Good girl,” he murmured and kissed her succulently, this time allowing her to kiss him back. Gods, he fucking loved the taste of her. He needed more. So he trailed a slow path downwards, fixating on her beautiful pert breasts for long moments, pulling those delightful little moans from her before continuing down to his knees.

Without warning he pulled out the vibrating stone.

“You’ve done so well for me. I’m so proud of you but we’re not done yet, my love. Are you okay? Do you want to come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Azriel. I need to come. Please! I need more. I need you…I need you inside me.” She begged, frantic and trembling with need.

Still on his knees Azriel said, “Shh…my love, you know I’ll give you everything you need. But you have to be a good girl just a little longer for me.” Then he licked clean up her center, lapping up all of her delicious fucking honey that she’s been dripping for the last forty-five minutes. She moaned with relief but his tongue left her all too soon as he stood before her. He placed two fingers on her bottom lip pulling it down, exposing her teeth before letting go.

“Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” Azriel asked as he unzipped his leathers, palming his throbbing erection.

“Yes, Azriel…Please, I want it.” She cried as he reached up and released her aching hands. They fell to her side and she began to fall to her knees as her body gave out but Azriel was there holding her upright in his arms while her ankles were still bound. He positioned her in front of him, her doe eyes looking up at him under low lashes. He stroked her tear-stained cheek, which was dry for now.

“I’ve got you, my love.” He murmured in her ear before gathering her hands in his. He massaged them gently working the blood flow back before he bound them once again with his shadows—this time behind her back. He’d caused her enough pain but he still wanted her at his mercy for a little longer. He knew full well that she could handle it and would thank him for it later.

If he was the angel of death then she was his sweet little sinner.

He gave her a soft kiss before pushing her down to her wide spread knees. She kept her eyes on his as if they were tethering her to the earth—lest she float away completely. He gripped his cock in his hand, pulling it out and giving it a few strokes. “Open that pretty little mouth for me, sweetheart.” He demanded and she did as she was told, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fucking perfect. Eyes on me, love,” he said and then shoved two fingers in her mouth. She greedily sucked on them before he quickly pulled them out, her face falling forward at the movement.

Then without any other warning he pushed his cock between her parted lips gliding the length along her tongue. He gripped her by the hair at the back of her head and began fucking her mouth with abandon. Tears and saliva once again began streaming beautifully down her face as filthy wet sounds filled the room. He slammed into the back of her throat making her gag and choke. “Fuck, Lain, you feel so good choking on my cock.” His voice guttural. He pulled out and slapped her cheek and lips with his wet cock before shoving it back into her mouth and began fucking her deeper gliding himself down her throat forcing her to open up for him. She was used to his cock down her throat, she just needed to relax.

“You’re doing so fucking well, sweetheart.” He fucked her mouth faster making her gag again. “Fuck! Your mouth feels so good around my cock.” And with that he was coming down her throat, his cock pulsing in her mouth. “Godsdamn, Elain.” He said as he slid out and pushed her hair away from her face, “You took that so well, my love.” And tucked himself back into his pants.

Elain breathed heavily, catching her breath. Her mouth red and chapped. Azriel stroked her cheek softly, “You okay?” She nodded, ‘yes,’ before Azriel retrieved a glass of water which he brought to her mouth. She eagerly sipped as he gently tipped it back for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, still looking at him under low lashes. She looked so sweet and innocent…Like a fallen goddess kneeling before him.

He fucking loved torturing her, making her his pretty little plaything and making her wet and whimpering but he also fucking loved making her feel good and that included nurturing and comforting her, always.

But right now he needed to taste her, fuck her.

He kissed her raw mouth gently before releasing her wrists and ankles, scooping her into his arms and winnowing her away.

Elain

She all but collapsed into Azriel’s arms as the darkness swept in, moments later they arrived home, to the townhouse.

She awoke to the scent of lavender as she was being submerged into steamy water. Her hair being brushed her hair from her face, “Sweetheart, we need to bathe, okay,” he said before gently easing in behind her.

Her mind was sleepy but her body was still on edge, the warmth of the water and the scent of lavender calming her overwhelmed senses but she still desperately needed release.

He washed her listless and aching body gently. Her knees were scraped and bruised, along with her wrists and ankles but she liked when he left his mark on her. She always carried him with her in some form whether bruises, bite marks or his seed dripping from her cunt.

After swiftly washing her body and hair, he lifted her from the bath, towel dried her off and then carried her to their bedroom.

She whined incoherently into the crook of his neck, “Az…I need you…to fuck me…please!”

Azriel laid her at the edge of their bed before dropping to his knees. “You did so well, sweetheart. You can come for me now. Come all over my face, Lain.”

She was utterly exhausted from his torture session but she needed to come so bad it hurt. She moaned lazily as his mouth finally relieved her ache and he began devouring her pussy. His tongue plunging in deep, alternating between fucking her pussy with his tongue and languid licks. She writhed against his face, moaning and mumbling senselessly with her hands gripping his hair by the roots. As soon as his tongue hit her clit she came undone, crying out as she came quick and hard. He relished in her arousal, drinking it in, groaning against her, “Fuck, Elain. You have the sweetest fucking pussy.”

He bit and sucked on her inner thigh before slowly inserting a finger and gently pumping in and out before adding a second. She tried rocking on his fingers but his other hand placed firm on her stomach holding her in place, controlling her movements as he fucked her in a slow and steady rhythm before flicking her her clit and sucking it into his mouth. She cried out, mumbling words as she came again, hard on his fingers, “Oh… fuck! Oh, gods!…Az…” She was drifting away on a blissful, sparkling cloud—Azriel, her only tether.

She let out a satisfied little moan as she buried her face into the comforter. “I’m not finished with you yet, my bride. You can sleep, but now I’m going to fuck you.”

Read on AO3 ✨

[lovemyromance]

Tbh

This fandom is kinda whack if you think about it. TW for language/controversial takes below the cut. If you don't follow me or ship Elriel, I'm pretty sure this will trigger you so just scroll now

Like on one side we have the "Anti-Everything" Squad aka. the people that make ME think I'm not liberal enough by going around and saying shit like:

"Rhys SA-ed Feyre UTM!"

"Tamlin is an abuser but he should be forgiven, also Elain is true endgame"

"Nesta hates Cassian and told him to leave her alone and he didn't listen and harassed her"

"Nesta should've been made High Queen - she did nothing wrong ever and people need to beg for her forgiveness"

"Jurian had on a MASK - he did nothing wrong!"

"Just because Gwyn is an SA survivor doesn't mean she can't have sex! She is ready now to fuck Azriel and anyone who says 'idk give her time maybe' is ANTI WOMEN"

"Elain is boring, she should've died in the cauldron, useless, blah blah"

"Rhys has done nothing for the Illyrians and the CON he's a tyrant"

Then we have the people on the other side: the "So far right it's kinda concerning" Crowd aka. the misogynistic, setting the women's rights movement back 10 yrs people who say shit like/

"Feyre did nothing to earn the position of HL except fuck Rhys"

"Elain can't have Azriel's babies so they aren't going to end up together"

"Elain needs to stop being a bitch and just accept Lucien already. She needs to grovel"

"My precious baby boy Tamlin/Eris/poor baby lulu"

"Mor is a LIAR and she never got brutalized or left at the Autumn Court because Eris said something ambiguous once"

And the funniest/most disturbing part is ??? THEY ARE SOMEHOW USUALLY THE SAME PERSON 😭😭

both sides got me thinking damn did we even read the same book??

[saraannereads]

Happy Kinktober, Elriels!

TW: NSFW mature content, 18+

I think of her holding her hair up, the necklace I had made for her resting on her throat and my hands on her neck. The thought of her shivering to my touch has me instantly hard, my hand gripping my cock as I recall the delicious scent of her arousal. I groan as I imagine her arching into me, and I begin to run my hand up and down my length. Warmth is seeping through my blood, and I’m burning for her. I imagine the way she might feel beneath me, on top of me, bent over with me pumping into her from behind. Sweat pours down my skin, and I picture her moaning as she rides my face, my tongue greedily lapping up her pleasure. And she’s coming on my lips, practically yelling my name for all to hear, but I don’t stop licking and sucking her clit until she’s on the edge again and climaxing with abandon, baptizing my skin with her wetness.

My breathing is ragged as I fist myself through my release, her image in my mind like an answer to a question I’ve been asking for centuries.

@elrielmonth

[theloveliestfawn]

The tables will turn when it turns out to be Elriel as the unconvential ship and they're the true crack ship. Sarah won't write them because they won't sell. It will be boring

A Mate Rejection wouldn't work out in standalone books (even if they're interconnected since each standalone promises the couple a HEA and each get one book as confirmed by Sarah in her interviews)

How are you expecting the author to write a compelling rejection story for something that wasn't even explored much? Just ask Elain to say the word "No" and that's it? It's a waste of a storyline. It's not interesting. There are no stakes.

Again, the book won't sell. Sarah won't write it Elain and Lucien however offer an "arranged marriage" kind of dynamic since we never had a mated pair who knew they were mates before they were in love

They will have tension and the clash of desires and reluctance between them. Reluctant love can be so good. So what if they're at odds now, it's not like Sarah haven't wrote couples that didn't start on a great foot before (Rowaelin literally hated the sight of each other)

It seems that this anon is crashing out and venting to other elriels as well but I wanna share my thoughts too <3

TW: YAPPING🥀

How can I expect the author to write a compelling mate rejection story which isnt explored much ???? Idk, maybe we just expect the best from her? The author herself has said in an interview that the mate rejecting thing would be very interesting so I hope she's gonna do her best w it.

Its not wrong for you to prefer Elucien over Elriel. We are all entitled to our preferences. But it doesn't mean that our preference is canon.

I don't want to argue about canon w you rn. I want to talk abt why I prefer Elriel over Elucien. In my opinion, Elucien's story will just be the same as the other SJM couples. Arranged marriage vibes or whatever you name it, it still follows the same formula, same route. "at odds now", "not starting on a great foot"... that sounds a lot like Nessian 😃 And lots of other SJM couples 😃

Btw, talking abt arranged marriage, have u read HOFAS, anon? Cus Sathia Flynn and Tharion Ketos seemed arranged marriage enough for me. If you like that trope, Im sure that the author will write their love story based on that trope especially since we will have CC4 "House of many waters" and Tharion being a freaking mermaid would absolutely get his POV and love story with sathia.

Now for the "reluctant love"...well Idk abt that. Elain is just indifferent towards Lucien. Lemme ask you, have u ever had a guy crushing on you, your classmates ship you two, but you arent comfortable with it cus you just dont like that guy, instead you love another guy from the class? yeah, thats Elain's case. She wants nothing to do with Lucien. She wants Azriel.

Look, its no use to fight over this. I would ship Elain n Lucien if she was neutral or show even slight emotions towards Lucien, like hate. But no, she js dgaf abt him lmao.

As elriels, we swoon over thoughtful gestures both Azriel and Elain had done for each other throughout the books and their freaking buildup man...

In ACOMAF, both are neutral with each other. They started on good terms. They talked to each other very well and Elain was comfortable w Azriel. no feelings for each other yet, just civil.

In ACOWAR, theres so much significant scenes that shows how Azriel cared for Elain, how protective he is towards her, how he sees her ( im getting her back scene, truth teller scene, the cauldron made you a seer scene ) And ofc theres thoughtful gestures like Azriel escorting Elain to see the garden. no feelings for each other yet, but Az feels protective and is caring towards Elain.

In ACOFAS, they grow closer. Az literally listens to Elain talking abt her garden plans till 3 am. And yes, more thoughtful gestures like the potato scene and making everyone wait for Elain taking her seat before eating.

In ACOFAS, Azriel doesn't have feelings for Elain yet. IMO he was still pining for Mor. It was stated that he blushes looking at Mor after she gifted him a towel as solstice present.

Then when did Azriel developed true feelings for Elain and slowly move on from Mor?

After Elain gifted him the headache powder.

And thats why in ACOSF, he felt very intensely abt Elain. He spent a whole year post ACOFAS developing feelings for her, thinking abt her, and it was too much that he avoided being bear Elain. Was it ever too much for Azriel when he pined for Mor? No, he could still be near her, be friends with her. But with Elain? No. He had to stay away bcus Elain is too much for him. But even when he stayed away, he would be the first one to act whenever Elain is in potential danger or in any slightly inconvenient situation. He is very protective towards Elain... shadows gathered around the corner of the room like snakes preparing to strike...."What happened to Elain?" ...Elain shouldnt be exposed to the cauldron's darkness n more.

As for Elain, she was never shy towards Azriel pre ACOSF. But in ACOSF, she was shy when she gestured towards Azriel. Why is she suddenly shy towards Azriel? Because she now has feelings for Azriel as well. Az did so many sweet things for Elain and he's hot, ofc she wants him now duh.

And then the grand finale scene for elriel in ACOSF was the charged glance. THERE IS TENSION BETWEEN THEM.

As for the bonus chapter, the "It was a mistake" and "You are to stay away from her" happened. Elain misunderstanding why Az pulled away from the kiss and rhys ordering Az to stay away from Elain RAISED THE TENSION BETWEEN THEM.

Theres too much foundation for Elriel. Can you see how beautiful their relationship progressed? THE TENSION BETWEEN THEM? The author cannot make this buildup just for them to go to waste which she admits that she hates when it happens.

[nikethestatue]

All Hallow's Eve

An Elriel Halloween fanfic

Summary: Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court enlists his sister-in-law Elain Archeron to plan a city-wide celebration of All Hallow's Eve. As she is still new to being Fae, Rhysand suggests a helper--Azriel, who would guide her through the process and show her the ropes.

Over the next few weeks, they plan the celebration together, they visit the Historian, and they end up together at Azriel's secret mansion, finally free to confront their feelings for each other.

TW: Explicit Sexual Content

Words: 13,229

-

“I’m gonna show you where it’s dark, but have no fear.” 

Day One

“Elain,” Rhysand called out her name from his office. 

She paused, surprised, because he rarely included her in any discussions and she was called to his office…well, never.

She pushed the door and entered. The High Lord sat behind his large desk, the portrait of her sister behind him. Watching.

Elain had to admit it–Feyre’s turned out to be a gifted painter after all. What had started as a childish hobby and endless doodles, morphed into something introspective and emotional. What Feyre perhaps lacked in technique, she compensated with the sheer visceral impact of her paintings.

“Good morning,” Rhysand said and gestured for her to sit down. She took a place across from him and allowed herself to be enchanted by his lavender eyes, which brimmed with starlight–a sight she was still getting used to.

“How are you, Elain?” Rhysand asked, his voice smooth and vaguely concerned.

“I am well, Rhys. Thank you for asking,” Elain answered politely. 

Internally, she felt both trepidation, and excitement. Because she was never asked to come to Rhys’s office. She was relegated to the gardens, to the nursery, the kitchen. Never called into the inner sanctum. 

Yes, she was part of this Court, and whenever she was called upon to serve, she did it eagerly and without hesitation. But she was typically used as a pretty doll at parties and balls or meetings with emissaries. Not unlike what her mother used to do when Elain was young–a pretty doll to dress up and parade around, introducing her to the guests. Elain didn’t mind it: she was well-versed in the matters of hosting and entertainment, and even the uncouth and ill-mannered Fae straightened in her presence and didn’t insist on behaving like beasts. 

“How are you?” she asked in turn, her stomach tightening with anticipation.

What if today was the day? The day Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court, would actually ask for her assistance in some task. Would use her powers and skills of observation for a specific purpose. Would she be finally used for something important and meaningful?

“Oh, I am well,” he leaned back in his chair. “The babe kept us up for a few hours, but then he fell asleep so I can't complain.”

Elain smiled politely and shifted in her seat, the impatient movement catching Rhys’s all-seeing glance.

He folded his elegant, aristocratic hands on his stomach and then asked,

“Do you know what All Hallow’s Eve is?”

Elain furrowed her brow, confused by the question.

“Pardon?”

“Have you heard of it?” Rhys repeated.

She shook her head. 

“No. What is it?”

“You didn’t celebrate your dead in the Human Lands?” he confirmed.

Elain bit her lip and shook her head again. No. The dead were burned in the river and then remembered by their families, until all generations died out, and with them, all the memories as well. The wealthy, they had different customs of course, as did those who lived on the Continent. Elain’s own grandparents and mother were buried properly, and had elaborate gravestones in the family cemetery. But the cemetery was gone along with Elain’s childhood estate and the only time the family members were remembered during the years of poverty was when the sisters lit a candle on the anniversary of their passing. 

Only Nesta refused to light for their grandmother. 

“No,” she answered curtly.

She didn’t want to remember. Any of it.

He nodded calmly, unperturbed as usual. 

“It is a night when we remember our dead,” he explained. “It is not a night of sorrow, but of celebration. We light bonfires, we leave sweets outside our doors, we exchange foods to please the ancestors, and we drink in their honour. What Calanmai is to Spring Court, All Hallow’s Eve is to Night Court.”

Elain thought about it and then asked cautiously, “and you and Feyre then…have to,” she swallowed audibly and felt her cheeks heat, “have to,”

He smiled mischievously, watching her discomfort.

“Have to what, Elain?” Rhysand prompted. 

She sighed. 

“You know exactly what I am referring to,” she told him, her tone dry. “Will you be fornicating in public then?” Like they do at Calanmai?”

She’d never seen it, but she heard stories about orgies out in the open and sexual acts performed by the High Lords. 

He chuckled and assured her, “don't worry, it won't be something we’ll subject anyone to.”

“Thank the gods,” she breathed with relief.

Rhysand’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Is it something you’d like to experience then?” he queried with amusement. “I could arrange a trip to Spring for you, come spring,”

“That won’t be necessary,” she stopped him quickly.

“Alright then.”

“So, what about this Eve?” she questioned, “do you wish me to bake something? Cook something?” her voice was small and quiet. She wished that he’d asked her for something meaningful.

Rhysand scrubbed his chin and then resumed his relaxed position.

“So, the custom is to host a gathering,” he said at last. “Obviously, due to various reasons we’ve been unable to have a proper celebration for half a century. This year though, I feel we are in a good position to resume the festivities properly.” 

She leaned forward in her chair and watched him intently, trying to understand what he wanted from her.

But she didn't need to wait long, because Rhysand announced,

“I’d like for you to take charge of the event.”

“Me?” she cried out, shocked.

“Yes, I think you’d be the perfect candidate. Just understand that this is not a small family celebration–this is a large gathering, on par with Starfall. Dignitaries will be coming. We are looking to return to normal, and this is one of the ways we’ll do that.

“I feel that you’d be excellent for this task,”

“Wait,” she interrupted him quickly, “but I don't know anything about what’s required! How am I expected to plan this…event, when I never saw it or know,”

“Oh don't worry,” he stopped her smoothly. “Of course I wouldn't expect you to do all of this on your own and by yourself. The twins will help, surely.”

“But,”

“And I feel that another person should be available as well,”

“Who?”

Elain shuddered internally, hoping that he wouldn't suggest Nesta. It’s not that she didn’t want to work with Nesta, but planning parties with Nesta…well, calling the experience a ‘nightmare’ would be kind. Nesta was opinionated, mean and impatient. Precisely the type of person one wouldn’t want to plan a large gathering with. 

“Azriel.”

Rhysand’s tone was even, and he sounded almost bored.

Elain’s eyes, though, popped open at the ridiculous suggestion.

Azriel?

Azriel who barely talked to her, who said that their almost-kiss was ‘a mistake’, who avoided her at best, and ignored her fairly regularly…THAT Azriel? Azriel who hardly struck her as a party maker either.

Gods, now she wished for Nesta!

She also wondered if Rhysand’s been hitting that fairy wine stash that he had in his possession, because she’s never heard anything more preposterous.

“Pardon?” she said for the second time in 15 minutes.

“Azriel,” Rhys repeated blandly. “It’s his turn,”

“Turn for what, exactly?”

“We used to take turns every year, organising the festivities. How do you think Azriel is so well-versed in the usage of proper cutlery, dancing, music and good etiquette? He isn’t a savage. Now, Cassian, on the other hand,”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“In any event,” Rhys shrugged. “You ought to consult with Azriel and make plans with him. That would take the pressure off of both of you…”

It would?

Elain couldn’t think of anything more pressing than working with Azriel. 

“Are you certain that there is no one else who could help me?” she implored.

“Unfortunately, not this year,” Rhys explained somberly. “Nesta doesn’t have experience, Mor is back in Vallahan, Amren…well, she is tougher than Azriel, though I might ask her,”

“No!” Elain exclaimed. “No. I…I will try it with him. “

“Good. I’d rather not ask Cassian, because then I’ll end up handling most of it. It’s settled then?”

She exhaled heavily.

No, it wasn’t ‘settled’, but what was she going to say?

“Yes, I will do it.”

“Thank you, Elain.” 

Rhys smiled at her, but he sounded genuine in his praise and gratitude.

“You should begin promptly,” he suggested. “There isn’t much time left, honestly. It sort of escaped my mind this year. Well with all the things that happened,” his voice trailed and Elain understood. After Feyre’s pregnancy and the horror of her birth, parties weren’t Rhysand’s priority.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Rhys gave her a small nod of encouragement and before she left the office, said, 

“Azriel is here right now. In his rooms. You might as well start the discussions as soon as possible.”

Oh.

Elain didn’t know.

Both Cassian and Azriel had rooms in the River House, however, they were in a different wing and they could come and go as they pleased. 

Feyre had explained that the wards in the townhouse were very strong and admittance was stringent. Rhysand and Mor were the only two people who could come and go as they pleased, and the other three needed to be admitted. Well, with everyone now either coupled or living here, permissions were a little more lax, but the wards were even stronger than before. 

After leaving Rhys’s office, Elain stopped in the middle of the hallway, and contemplated her next move.

Would it be absolutely uncouth to go up to Azriel’s rooms and knock on his door? 

Should she send him an official invitation to join her? 

That seemed a bit over-the-top even for her. 

Perhaps ask Nuala or Cerridwen to explain the situation to him? 

Have Feyre summon him?

Request that Nesta invite her over, whilst Azriel was at the House of Wind and ‘accidentally’ bump into him?

Elain tugged on her braid aggressively, but then stomped her foot in frustration.

He was just a man. Nothing more.

A man who seemed to have been attracted to her once. Maybe not. Maybe she read the signs wrong. But regardless, he wasn’t better than her. Wasn’t intimidating in the least. She was a Cauldron Made Seer. He was a spy and a shadowsinger. She was pretty sure that she outranked him anyway.

Resolutely, she headed towards the other wing of the house, her hands balled at her sides and her fingernails digging into her palms. She reckoned that she resembled Nesta right now. It didn’t matter. She was going to do it.

When she came to Azriel’s door, she heard faint music coming from inside. 

He had obtained a Symphonia for himself, because Nesta refused to let him ‘borrow’ hers at some point, since he was taking it all the time and listening to it himself. What’s more, he also added melodies and dances that he liked to it, and deleted some of Nesta’s–or at least she couldn’t find them–so they argued and that prompted him to buy one for himself. 

Elain took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” she heard his voice almost immediately, and then she opened the door.

Azriel had three rooms–his request–which consisted of an office, a bedroom, and a sitting room, and Elain’s never been here, though when the house was built, she suggested some of the colours and decorations for his rooms. She wasn’t even sure why she did that. Why it mattered to her. 

Stepping into his office, the first thing that happened was Elain was blinded. She gasped, surprised to be enveloped in complete darkness. 

“For the love of the Cauldron, get away from her!” she heard Azriel’s deep, gravelly voice somewhere in the darkness. 

Shadows…These were his shadows. The gathering of shadows, which were caressing her skin now:  they touched her hair, her neck, her cheeks, her hands. 

“I said back off,” she heard Azriel’s command, and at last, the wall of shadows thinned and they pulled back as if being sucked into a vortex. 

Elain squinted and heard Azriel say “forgive them. They got excited. They haven't seen you in a while.”

And whose fault is that? Elain wanted to ask, but she didn’t.

As they typically did around her, the shadows then disappeared completely, leaving her with Azriel.

“I thought they didn’t like me,” she said quietly.

With a sigh, he told her, “no, they like you. All of me likes you.” 

At that, Elain’s eyes finally found him and she stared.

He cleared his throat.

He sat behind a desk, instantly reminding her of Rhysand. Unlike most other times, Azriel was dressed casually, and Elain dug her feet into the soft rug, trying not to squeeze her thighs together. 

His tunic was simple, but clearly bespoke–everything that he wore was tailored specifically to him–of a deep cornflower blue, and unbuttoned on his chest. His bronze skin worked beautifully with the colour of his shirt and Elain couldn’t help but admire how good he looked. She also couldn’t help herself as she peeked at his sculpted chest and his thick, veiny forearms, which he folded on the desk in front of him.

His huge black wings loomed over him like two mountains, but they didn’t seem as rigid as they usually appeared. It was almost as if Azriel was…relaxed.

But it wasn’t his elegant tunic, or his golden skin, or his muscles, or his thick black hair that attracted Elain’s attention the most–though all of those things certainly kept her occupied–but it was a pair of spectacles that was perched on his nose that took her aback.

Spectacles existed in the Human Lands, though they were expensive and rare. Only the very wealthy could afford them, and that if they lived long enough to need them. Most people just got by the best they could.

Azriel wearing a pair of black-rimmed spectacles wasn’t what Elain expected to see this morning.

“I am old, you know,” he said suddenly.

“You aren’t though!” she argued immediately, even though she wasn’t sure what he was referring to.

“I am. In your years, I am probably 33 years old. Maybe 35.”

“It isn’t old!”

“You are not yet 25,” he reminded her. “You are so young!”

“Not yet?! Young?” Elain cried out. Was he insane? She was a spinster! Even when she got engaged to Graysen there were many who whispered that she was getting on in her years and that being almost 22 was almost too late to be getting married. 

He raised his brow at her, giving her one of those ‘Azriel looks’ which he tended to shoot on occasion at people around him. It was a look of incredulity and disdain. She wasn’t the receiving end of the look before, and now that she got the eyebrow lift, well…it was scary and lonely on the other side of that look.

“You wear spectacles,” she stated the obvious.

“It would seem that I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I read a lot and need to protect my vision,” he explained. “These help me–they are slightly magical.”

Slightly magical.

Only in Prythian could something like that be uttered and actually make sense. 

“Well, they look good on you,” she blurted out, and then mentally smacked herself for her big mouth. She shouldn't even be noticing how he looks!

Azriel smiled. 

And then, they just stared at each other. 

His office was very spacious and with south-facing windows. When the house was being designed and constructed, it was Rhysand who told the artisans and the architects that Azriel’s rooms ought to have as much sun exposure as possible. Elain recalled the moment, because she was there–Feyre and Rhys were there, Amren too, and no one questioned the request. 

“Not that I am not pleased to see you in my rooms,” Azirel said at last, leaning back in his chair and taking the same pose as his brother did earlier, by lacing his long, strong fingers on his flat stomach. Elain could see the smooth ridges of his abdominal muscles even from here. She shouldn’t have been looking. But he was borderline indecent, sitting like that, folding his hands on his stomach. Who did that? It should’ve been illegal!

“However,” he continued, observing her with a smirk, “I am curious about the reason for your visit? It’s most unusual, is it not?”

“It’s not like I want to be here!” she told him quickly.

He smiled and then removed his spectacles and placed them on the desk.

“And yet, here you are.”

“I am supposed to plan a party for All Hallow’s Eve and you are supposed to help me.”

Azriel looked both amused and a bit perplexed. 

“Why did you choose me, specifically?” he queried.

She huffed and shrugged, “I didn’t. I didn’t ask for you specifically.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, only stared at her and then mouthed soundlessly And yet here you are. 

“It’s because Rhys told me!” she argued defensively.

“Told you what?”

“To ask you because it’s your turn to plan the party anyway,” she even rolled her eyes at him, which made him grin.

“I am supposed to plan a party?” he repeated.

She sighed with exasperation and exclaimed, “must I repeat everything? Are you not supposed to plan the celebration? Why are you acting like this is news to you?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said calmly, “it must have skipped my mind. It’s been a while since I’ve done it,”

“That’s what Rhys said as well,”

“I bet he did,” Azriel nodded. 

“He said that you are supposed to help me and teach me,” she clarified.

A faint smile bloomed on Azriel’s lips and he murmured, 

“I can certainly teach you a thing or two.”

Elain squinted at him, trying to determine the meaning behind his words, but opted not to comment. Instead, she asked, “well, will you?”

“What?”

“Help me?”

“I will,” he agreed at last. “Just need to refresh my memory.”

She nodded primly.

“When do you want to start?” she asked.

“How about tomorrow morning? I can finish up everything else and then throw myself head first into party planning,” he rubbed his hands together with fake excitement.

Elain threw him an unamused look, but nodded and said, “I shall see you tomorrow at 8 in the morning.”

“Oh, eight?” he repeated.

“Yes. Eight.”

Once Elain left his office with a swoosh of her green dress, Azriel tugged on the mind link that connected him to Rhys rather aggressively.

“Ow!” the High Lord complained.

Azriel seethed, “You are such an asshole. The biggest asshole I’ve ever met.”

Rhys laughed on the other side.

“Surely not the biggest?” he argued.

“The biggest.”

“I take severe umbrage to that because you know Jurian, Beron and you knew my father. I am an honourable High Lord, that’s all.”

“Yeah, you are,” Azriel’s voice trailed. “What the hel are you doing? What is this party nonsense?”

Rhys thought for a moment and then said lazily, “I feel like you are floundering. You need a change of scenery and pace. So this is an order.”

Day Two

She arrived exactly at eight in the morning.

Carrying binders. 

Large journals with blank pages, which, Azriel supposed, she planned on filling out with information.

Azriel was in the kitchen, talking to Nuala, a cup of milky coffee in one hand and a pistachio pastry shoved in his mouth, crumbs all over his front, when Elain strode decisively inside.

She was clutching all her binders and journals to her chest and Azriel noticed that they were also different colours.

“Morning!” Elain said cheerfully, and Nuala smiled, noting, “You’ve got some pep in your walk today!”

“It’s a big assignment!” Elain declared importantly.

“You know,” Azriel attempted to say something contrary but she shot him a look of such fierceness that he shut his mouth and continued chewing.

She slapped each binder on the counter, stating loudly:

Guests.

Food.

Decorations.

Venues.

Other things.

Azriel chortled and muttered other things under his breath.

“That’s why you are here, isn’t it?” she asked, “to tell me about things I don’t know.”

“Sure, I can tell you what to do,” he offered easily.

Nuala hid a smile.

Elain squeezed the bridge of her nose and moaned, “this is going to be difficult, isn’t it?”

“Not if you don’t make it so.”

Pursing her lips, Nuala stated, “he is very difficult to work with,” and with that, and before Azriel could argue, she disappeared through the wall. 

“How’s this fair?” he yelled after her.

Only a soft laugh came in response. 

“Alright, so,” Elain opened the first journal, “I was thinking…”

“You should get some breakfast,” he interrupted her.

“I don't want it, I am not hungry!” she protested, but Azriel poured her a cup of coffee and plucked a pastry from a stand and handed it to her.

“Eat,” he ordered in a tone that didn’t allow for arguments.

Elain pouted, but accepted both the coffee and the pastry, noticing that the coffee was exactly how she liked it and the pastry was made with apples and almonds–her favourite.

But that, she was sure, was just a coincidence. He wouldn’t have known how she liked her coffee.

“So, how many guests do you think we should invite?” Elain asked, as she sipped her coffee.

Azriel looked at her with amusement, until she glanced at him and then reached out and suddenly wiped some of the buttery crumbs from his chest, carefully picked at the ones that stuck to his black jacket.

He stood still and silent, while she cleaned him up, clearly unaware of what she was doing. Her brow was furrowed while she concentrated and smacked his chest up and down. He liked it. He tried to contain his smile, but it wasn’t easy. Outside of long-forgotten brushes of fingers, this is the most Elain’s ever touched him.

Abruptly, she realised what she was doing and pulled away.

“I think you missed a spot,” he pointed out innocently.

“Ugh, why didn’t you tell me to stop?!” she exclaimed, her cheeks pink and her tone flustered.

“Why? I was enjoying it,” he said simply.

She bristled and hissed, “you don’t even like me!”

His face lost its softness and the expression hardened.

“I never said that,” he snapped.

“Yes, you did,” she insisted.

“No. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

She waved her hand dismissively,

“I don’t want to talk about it. We need to plan the party and then part our ways.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, his face unreadable.

She caressed the blank pages of her journal and asked,

“How many guests usually attend?”

At that Azriel shrugged irritably and said, “I don’t fucking know…”

Her eyes popped at his coarse language.

“Haven’t you done this before?” she insisted, looking annoyed. 

“Been a while. Anyway, don’t you think you are jumping ahead of yourself?”

“How’s that?”

“Shouldn’t you find out more about the holiday? Before you start inviting guests.”

He looked at her like a disappointed teacher and she breathed a small ‘oh’.

“Come on then, we have a trip to make,” he extended his hand to her.

She looked confused, but took his hand without argument. Unlike all the others, she always took his hand without argument.

She grabbed her pastry and hurried after him, forgetting her pristinely new journals behind.

“Where are we going?” she asked, running after him as he took massive strides with his long legs.

“Just follow me!”

“But where are you taking me?” she insisted.

He gave a derisive snort and threw, “to be ravished!”

She wasn't even bothered by the callous remark and said, “I thought we are a mistake and you weren't interested.”

“Guess things change,” he said nonchalantly.

“Well, they didn’t change for me!” she screeched.

“Don’t care.”

She tried to stop, but he pulled her behind him and she was forced to trot obediently so she wouldn’t fall.

They were outside on the lawn in no time and the next moment, Azriel was in front of her, looming over her, his expression stern and dark. He released her hand from his, only to move to her shoulders, squeezing them, but not tightly. He peered into her brown eyes and said,

“I don’t want you to bring that night up anymore.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

She glared at him and reminded her firmly,

“It was a pivotal night in our…association. I cannot not bring it up. It…” she swallowed. “You hurt my feelings,”

“And I apologise for that. But if we are to work together on this celebration, we can’t dwell on the past. One day, I might explain myself further. Is that understood?”

“I am not one of your soldiers to bark at,” she glowered at him.

He smiled at her and then gently tucked a rogue curl behind her ear.

“No, you're not. You are my lovely girl.”

“I am not yours,” she breathed, blinking at him.

He sighed heavily and was forced to agree. “So it would seem.”

“I am nobody’s girl,” she concluded wistfully.

Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of her words. On one hand, he was pleased that she didn’t seem to be Lucien’s girl, and that she didn’t go further into her relationship with her mate than before. On the other hand, she didn’t consider herself being his girl either. And that didn’t please him at all, though he couldn't blame her.

“Where are we going?” she asked again.

“To see the Historian,” he said.

“Why can’t anyone in Prythian have a normal name? Like Sebastian? Or Pascal?” she moaned. “Or Roan? Why is it always the Death God. The Bone Carver. The shadowsinger. The Weaver. The King. The High Lord.”

“Well, out of all of those, shadowsinger sounds the most reasonable and attractive,” he reasoned. “Also, aren’t you the Seer? Aren’t you Made?”

She scoffed with disgust and asked instead, “how are we getting there?”

“Winnowing. As much as I’d like to spend days flying there with you in my arms, I don’t think that’s the wisest course of action.”

With that, he opened his arms and winked at her, “Come, step on in, Seer.”

Wrinkling her nose, she warned him, “you better stop calling me that!”

He chuckled, and then gave her an Illyrian salute. 

“Is it dangerous?” she asked cautiously, once he pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms around her.

“Isn’t everything around here?” he asked innocently. 

Azriel smelled good–his scent was sharp, with undertones of cedar, and something cool and clean, like water. His body was like a slab of granite–massive and firm and so clad in muscle there wasn’t one soft spot on him. 

Winnowing with him was different from winnowing with Rhys or with Feyre or Mor. His was a pure, but comforting darkness. As they tumbled through space and time, his arms tightened around her, keeping her securely anchored to him. All she could see was the faint gleam of his blue siphons.

They landed in a few minutes, on the outskirts of a massive forest. In the distance, Elain spotted a village of some sort, but closer to them stood a stone hut with a thatched roof. Azriel released her from his embrace, but immediately tucked her behind him, protecting her with his body.

Good thing he did, because just as they stepped towards a retaining wall that surrounded the hut, a rock was hurled in their direction. Then another. And another.

Elain crouched on the ground, protecting her head, while Azriel just about fell on top of her, covering her with his body.

“They are throwing rocks at us!” she screamed, stating the obvious.

His wing shot out and not a moment too soon, because a rock bounced off of it instead of hitting Elain in the head.

“No? You think?!” he grunted, and then a rock landed almost on his shoulder, but using some incredible move, he pressed on his siphons and suddenly, the rock bounced off an invisible shield. 

“By the Mother,” Elain whimpered, “why are they throwing rocks at us?”

“Probably don't know if we are friend or foe,” he proposed.

“That’s no way to greet strangers,” she fumed.

He laughed softly, his hand cradling her head to his shoulder. 

“It is for the Fae.”

Then, once a few more rocks bounced off the shield, Azriel bellowed,

“Old man, if you don’t stop tossing boulders at us, I will rip your arm off and will beat you to death with it.”

The barrage paused.

“Shadowsinger?”

“The very same!” Azriel confirmed.

“Well then why didn’t you say so?! Come in!” the tone was happy and welcoming.

Azriel finally straightened out and Elain squeaked, “is it safe?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, flower. Come on,” he grabbed her hand and hauled her up.

“Flower?” she repeated, straightening her dress.

“My flower,” was all he said.

A male of an undetermined age greeted them. He was on the older side for a Fae, but as far as Elain knew, it could’ve been 5,000 years old. It was impossible to tell. 

They crossed the lawn in front of the house, Azriel holding her hand firmly and for once, she was glad that he was holding her.

“Azriel shadowsinger!” The man greeted them with a smile. “It’s been a while,”

“I’ve been busy,” Azriel said.

“I can see that. Brought a woman, finally!”

Elain blushed at the man’s words and Azriel cleared his throat.

“She isn’t my woman,” he corrected the man. “She is Elain, Cauldron Made Seer, and the High Lady’s sister.”

“Oh. Well, if you would’ve warned me you were coming, I would’ve made tea!”

He ushered them inside the house–it was neat, if small. Late autumn chill dissipated the moment they entered and were directed to sit down by the hearth. 

“What brings you here, shadowsinger?” the man asked, as he fussed around a simple wooden stand, preparing tea for them.

“Lady Elain would like to learn more about All Hallow’s Eve. Its history and customs. We are to host a party and she needs the background. And I…I just need your insight.”

“Ahhh, of course,” the man stated and then brought them two cups of tea. Elain accepted hers, and noticed that there was a slice of lemon in it–just like she liked it. When she took a sip, the tea was strong, sweet and tart. 

“This is excellent,” she complimented the man. Upon closer inspection, he had a forgettable face but luminous blue eyes. Strange and deep and penetrating. When he observed her for a moment, she had a sense that he was somehow looking inside her soul. She wasn’t sure why she needed it, but she reached out for Azriel’s hand and he threaded their fingers together without question. He didn't seem surprised that she needed a bit of his strength and solidity.

“So, Lady Elain, what would you like to know?” the man inquired, taking a seat across from them.

“Azriel said that you are a historian?” she asked.

“Indeed I am. I’ve been alive for a long time and I’ve seen much, but I’ve also forgotten just as much,” he smiled. “But I can offer what I know about Samhain.”

“Samhain?” she repeated, confused.

“The name of the festival is Sam-hain actually. It means summer’s end in the Old Language. The old Fae celebrated it at the end of autumn and the beginning of winter.

“We have a few festivals that all of Prythian celebrities: Solstice, with which you are familiar, I am sure,”

“I am,” she nodded and Azriel added,

“She gives the best gifts!”

It was a pointless comment as far as Elain was concerned but it made her feel nice nevertheless.

“Something of healing and protection, I reckon,” the Historian said.

“How do you know?” Elain exclaimed, feeling her heart beat faster at the man’s sudden words.

“Just an inkling,” he stated vaguely, and continued, “the other holiday is Calanmai, known as Fire Night in some Courts. Hallow’s Eve is the other. These are celebrated across all of Prythian, unlike, for example, Starfall, which is only observed at Night Court, where the stars are visible.”

“What does it celebrate?” Elain questioned.

“The dead,” the man said plainly. “The Fae of old believed that the spirits of the dead returned to their homes on Samhain, and that the souls of those who died during the year would travel to the afterlife.”

“Is it true?” Elain asked, a little scared.

“Perhaps,” the Historian shrugged indifferently. “But you’ve been inside the Cauldron. Inside the Void–surely you wouldn’t be frightened of a little ghost.”

Elain paled and Azriel shot the man a threatening glare.

“Enough,” he muttered.

The Historian’s blue eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, before landing on their linked hands. 

“We celebrate Samhain with bonfires, dancing, divination, and wearing costumes. The bonfires are lit to guide the souls to the afterlife and to frighten away evil spirits. The old Fae also wore costumes, often animal heads and skins, to avoid being recognised by the evil spirits. This continues to this day.”

Elain’s head swirled towards Azriel and she scoffed incredulously,

“You wear a costume?!”

He smiled.

“I do.”

“What kind of costume?!” she exclaimed.

The Historian also smiled. 

“Death,” Azriel said bluntly.

She popped her lips,

“Of course you do.”

“You asked,” he shrugged.

The other man somehow forgotten, she chewed on her lower lip, pondering out loud,

“What kind of costume should I wear?”

“Anything that you wear looks good,” Azriel assured her, his large hazel eyes skimming her from her face down to her waist.

She glanced shyly at him and murmured, “no, I don’t.”

“Oh, I assure you–you do. What do you want to be?”

“I don’t know,” she worried. “What’s a good costume?! Oh gods, I bet Nesta wouldn’t even want to wear one!” she gasped.

“We’ll convince her,” Azriel said confidently. In response, Elain gave him a look. 

The Historian watched them in silence, his eyes skipping from one to the other. Whatever he saw, he kept his opinion to himself. Instead, he told Elain,

“I would recommend dressing as something that would confuse the spirits. I sense that you had experienced a loss recently?”

“I…how, how would you know?” she gawked at him, squeezing Azriel’s fingers with hers.

“I have a gift. A gift of Sight,”

“Like me?” she gasped.

“No. Nothing as advanced or as intricate as your gift. I see…threads. How they bind people and things together. Because everything is connected. Every single decision that you make will guide your path. Look at your life right now–who would’ve thought that you’d be sitting here, in my home, holding the shadowsinger’s hand in yours?”

Elain looked down at Azriel’s thumb that was stroking the fleshy part of skin of her hand.

“Who did you lose?” the man continued. “Your sisters live…So I suspect a parent?”

“My father.”

“Ahhh, condolences then, Lady Elain. This will be your opportunity to offer him a safe passage to the Land of Milk and Honey.”

“What sorts of threads do you see?” Elain asked, ignoring the rest of what he said. “What kinds of connections?”

“All kinds. Every kind.”

“And what do you see between us?” she asked boldly. 

Azriel looked at her with surprise, but didn’t say anything. 

The Historian cocked his head to the side and then told them.

“You are mated.”

At that, Elain jolted, looking at him in bewilderment, only to hear him add, “To another.”

Her expression fell and she said dryly, “yes. I am aware.”

After a pause, they continued their talk, the man proving to be a wealth of information, especially when it came to food customs. 

-

Days Three and Four

Anemone.

The Historian told them that anemone, the flower of the dead, was the plant that was commonly used for decorations. Especially the red ones with black centres, and the white ones. It was especially important for those who had lost close family members recently. And who didn’t, after the war?

The problem was–where in the world would Elain find anemone this time of year? Or in Prythian?

It grew in the Human Lands, and Elain was familiar with it–a pretty field-like flower which needed a lot of sun and bloomed in the summer.

She contacted all the flower shops and green nurseries in Velaris, but none carried the mysterious flower.

Besides this flower dilemma, things were going well with the preparations.

She and Azriel spent a lot of time together, which was something she needed to get used to. But he was gentle and helpful, and she recalled the carefree times from before when they could just talk and stay together in a comfortable silence. It was similar to how they were together right now. 

There was something that Azriel was preoccupied with ever since they had returned from the Historian. Elain wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she overheard the man say to Azriel just as they were leaving…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d heard. A couple of words. But ‘your right’ and ‘destiny’ were among them. Since then, Azriel seemed deep in thought whenever they had a moment to themselves. Elain didn’t pry though. His secrets were his own.

Meanwhile, together, they devised a guest list–Hgh Lords and Ladies, merchants, dignitaries, High Fae, Lesser Fae, Illyrians. It was a long list, but Elain wanted to be inclusive of everyone. When Azriel began protesting the inclusion of Illyrians, she told him that they had suffered the greatest losses in the war and therefore were definitely going to be part of the celebration. He pouted. Pouted. Told her that they wouldn’t attend anyway. She smiled and said ‘we’ll see’. 

-

“Marshmallow eggs,” Azriel announced, interrupting, as he entered the kitchen.

Elain, Cerridwen and Nuala turned at the sound of his voice.

“Excuse me?” Elain said, wondering what he was talking about. 

“Oh,” Cerridwen rolled her eyes, “here we go,”

“Yeah!” Azriel nodded aggressively. “Yes! I want marshmallow eggs!”

“We’ll get you marshmallow eggs,” Nuala promised kindly.

“That’s not all,” he insisted and then pointed to the journal in front of them, which was filled with rows of food ideas, some underlined, others scratched out. 

“This is what I want,” he handed them a list. He made a list.

The following was Azriel shadowsinger’s list of food requirements:

Apple cake with almonds

Pistachio and almond rolls

Bilberry tarts

Chocolate sponge with buttercream

Caramel carrot slices

Coffee sponge with walnut cream

Cheesecake with pears

Curd tarts

Lardy cakes

Jellies

Prune pastries with poppyseeds

Jam Rolls

Saffron bread

Topfen cake

Cake Florent

And no, Elain did not know what half of these were.

“Are there enough cakes and pastries?” she confirmed, glaring at him.

“Yes, but I forgot to add the marshmallow eggs,” he exclaimed, and then scribbled this addition on the page.

“Will your heart be able to handle it?” Elain pondered, unable to stop smiling. He was ridiculous.

“A better question is if Cassian would be able to handle it,” Cerridwen contradicted. 

“Oh, add honey cake with hazelnuts,” Azriel snapped his fingers, ignoring them and apparently running through all the possible sweets he could come up with in his head.

“Poor Cass,” Nuala shook her head, “the sheer amount of sweets will send him into convulsions!”

“Don’t care! He doesn’t have to eat any of them,” Azriel barked roughly.

Elain propped her cheek and asked, looking between the three of them, “what is this all about, exactly?”

“The shadowsinger likes his sweets,” Nuala said flatly.

“He is obsessed,” Cerridwen added.

“I am not obsessed!” Azriel argued.

“He is. He really is.”

“He will eat them all,” Nuala assured.

“He will,” Cerridwen echoed.

“He is obsessed with sweets. If you want him to bow to your will, just hand him a berry tart and he is all yours.”

Elain laughed at that.

“I’ll keep that in mind!” she promised.

Azriel threw her an unreadable look and said, “you wouldn't need to bribe me with anything.”

With that, he left the kitchen.

The twins exchanged smirks and glances and Elain warned them, “don’t start.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

-

Day Nine

Five days until the celebration and Elain Archeron was annoyed.

She was annoyed because Rhysand gave her so little time to complete all of this and come out on the other side with an incredible celebration. 

The twins were an amazing help, as usual, and she enlisted cooks and chefs from Velaris’s best restaurants and pastry shops, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Azriel’s enormous list of sweets kept growing, and Elain had to resort to hiding the final list because otherwise, if he had his way,  they’d end up with a hundred desserts.

Pumpkins were delivered from nearby farms and were placed strategically all around Velaris, and the entire city glowed with orange lights, which came courtesy of Rhysand’s magic. Beautiful embroidered Illyrian tablecloths and napkins were sent to the River House, and despite Azriel’s protestations, it seemed like numerous Illyrians would be attending the festivities. Cassian was pleased and astonished by this particular achievement–he couldn’t believe that Elain somehow convinced dozens of Illyrian commanders to come to Velaris for a …party. 

Azriel was in charge of negotiating with proprietors of various stalls and shops, and since he always came back with perfect results and signed agreements, Elain figured that the poor sellers at the Palace of Bone and Salt were so terrified of having to deal with him, they agreed to anything. Azriel was oblivious to his own menacing presence, and sweetly believed that he was just an excellent negotiator. Elain didn’t have the heart to dash his hopes. He was rather proud of himself and she preferred to keep it that way.

Despite some of the setbacks and miscommunications and the tight deadline, things were progressing nicely.

Except for the Cauldron blasted anemone!

It wasn’t available anywhere. 

Elain had asked Feyre to speak with the High Lords of other Courts–the warmer ones–and see if they were aware of the flower and whether it was blooming right now? Tarquin of Summer and Helion of Day said ‘no’, while it was pointless to ask Viviane of Winter. The one High Lord that might have actually had the flower at his Court was Tamlin of Spring, but alas, Elain wasn’t motivated enough to obtain the flowers if it meant forcing Feyre to communicate with him.

Therefore, anemone remained elusive.

Azriel was helpful and knowledgeable in some things, and for that Elain was grateful, for in other things, he was hopeless. The way he acted sometimes, she would’ve thought that he’s never done this before. Supposedly they all had planned this holiday celebration prior, and yet he seemed mystified by some of the questions that Elain asked him. Granted, he was a male. And Elain’s expectations were fairly low, and she repeatedly told herself to be grateful that she was doing this with him and not Cassian, for example. However, it still frustrated her when Azriel couldn’t answer simple questions. 

When he grew frustrated with something, or somebody annoyed him, he began calling her ‘beautiful’ or ‘flower’ as in ‘I really don’t remember, beautiful!’ or ‘Flower, why don’t you make a decision?’ And it’s not that Elain wanted to agitate him on purpose, but she liked it when he used the little pet names, and maybe, just maybe, she teased him unnecessarily at times, just to have him throw a ‘beautiful!’ at her. Beyond the little slips though, Azriel always kept an appropriate distance and didn’t permit himself any frivolities with her. Which, Elain supposed, was for the best anyway. Especially because her mate was coming for the celebration. 

Of course he was. 

It was late in the afternoon and Elain was going through her checklist to make sure that everything was in order. She hasn't been sleeping well in the past few days, overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility, but also, Azirel’s endless close proximity. It didn’t matter that he kept his distance–Elain didn't want him to keep his distance, but she also dreaded not being near him. Each hour was spent watching him, and Elain never got tired of it: the dark tattoos that peeked from his collar and his sleeves, how he crossed his arms on his chest and the biceps bulged obscenely against the material of his tunic, his long legs, always splayed just enough to cause Elain some uncomfortably pleasant thoughts. She loved watching him. Loved hearing his voice, its gravelly, deep timbre. When she didn’t allow herself to watch him before, she now ogled because it was acceptable. 

“I am not sure if I should tell you this.”

Azriel’s voice startled her and Elain jolted in her chair. She raised her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.

He was looking down, fumbling with his sleeves, not meeting her eyes.

“Tell me what?” she asked softly. “Because whatever it is, you do want to tell me, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here.”

He smiled.

“You got me there.”

“So what is it?” she twirled her pen in her fingers, watching him.

He thought for a few long moments and then said,

“I know where to find anemone.”

The pen slipped out of her fingers as she lurched upwards and cried out, “you do?!! Why didn’t you tell me?!!”

He rubbed his chin and then said,

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh…” she moaned. “Of course it is. Do I have to fight some monster in order to obtain it? If that’s the case, then count me out,”

He chuckled,

“Even if I am there to protect you?”

“Even then,” she concluded firmly. “So, where is it?”

“You won’t need to fight a monster,” he assured her at last. “Unless you think that I am one?”

Elain stared at him and then spoke, “no. You aren’t. Not to me…”

Azriel looked straight at her and asked, “Will you trust me?”

She stood up and nodded.

“I trust you. Nothing that you do or what you are frightens me.”

He glanced out the window. Thunderclouds were gathering over the mountains and the wind picked up, making the hanging lanterns swing violently outside the window.

“We’ll have to hurry. We’ll winnow part of the way, but then we’ll need to fly,” he told her, extending his hand towards her. Elain looked back at her opened journal, grabbed it just in case and then took his hand. 

“Where are we…” she began saying, but she didn’t get the chance to finish her thought as she and Azriel were sucked into the vortex of darkness and space. 

“Goooiiinnnng?” she breathed out once they landed on a grassy field. She stumbled and held her tightly around the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No need. Took me a while before I learned how to land properly.”

Elain looked around. There was nothing as far as the eye could see but rolling hills and oak trees, as well as grazing sheep.

Azriel opened his arms and said, “Jump on, beautiful.”

Elain tugged on her dress nervously and stepped closer to him. Flying in someone’s arms was always strange–whether it was Rhysand or Cassian. The feeling multiplied by a hundred when she was flying with Azriel. He always held her differently from the others–tightly and reverently. Like she meant something to him. Like she was precious and he cared about her and her comfort.

Gracefully, Elain stepped into the circle of his arms and he lifted her easily, his arms solid, secure bands under her knees and behind her back.

“Arms around my neck,” he instructed.

Rhys never asked for that. Neither did Cassian.

Elain squinted at him but did as he told her and looped her arms around his neck.

It always fascinated her how they lifted off–no running, no preamble of any kind–just straight up in the air. Cassian liked to do all kinds of stupid, reckless things, and Rhysand was more gentle and careful, but Azriel was…slow and gradual. And that was perfection. That’s exactly how Elain loved being lifted off the ground and then hang precariously in the air, hundreds of feet above the ground. Azriel’s massive wings flapped so hard and so powerfully, they caused a booming sound to reverberate in the cold air around them. And it was cold. She shivered and curled closer to his wide, warm chest.

“It’s not a long flight,” he calmed her. “I am sorry, we should’ve taken your jacket. Sometimes I forget that regular Fae get cold.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I don’t. I got used to it.”

The way he said it…It wasn’t a good memory and Elain didn’t want to press him on it.

“I'm alright,” she lied.

He smiled and wrapped his arms tighter.

“So, where are we going?”

“Home.”

Day Ten

Home.

Azriel, the spymaster of Night Court and shadowsinger, brought Elain Archeron home.

They were flying over the soft sloping hills, which gradually gave way to rocky cliffs, until Elain spotted a glistening purple-blue lake. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she gasped under her breath.

It was indeed. Even in the gathering storm on the horizon, the lake churned and smashed against the rocks on the left, but was calm and pristine on the right. And then, she saw it. A small, but not too small island, which poked out of the water a few miles from the shore. It was rocky, but covered in green grass and thick tree canopies of various autumnal colours. In the middle of the island, similar to the House of Wind, stood a massive mansion, which seemed to float above the water and pop right out of the rocks. 

“Is this home?” Elain whispered, amazed and flabbergasted.

“It is,” Azriel nodded. 

And then she understood why they were flying. An invisible barrier–wards–brushed against them, but parted as Azriel approached. Their strength was such that even he had to power through the invisible wall of magic.

As if reading her mind, he explained, “I thought that the House of Wind had a good idea in terms of security–you cannot winnow inside. When I purchased this place, I felt that it would make good sense to do the same here.”

“That’s why we have to fly,” she stated. 

“Yes. We can winnow onto my lands,”

“All of that was yours?” she exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah. But the wards start at the shore, and then continue all the way to the island.”

As he began banking it was then that Elain saw it.

Anemone.

Fields of it.

Slopes covered in multi-coloured beds of flowers. 

“How is this possible?!” she cried out excitedly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “They’ve always been here. I never paid attention to them. I don’t even come here all that frequently, so I sort of forgot about them. Until the Historian mentioned them.”

“Don’t you think it’s very serendipitous?” she marvelled. 

“I suppose that these are the connections that he was speaking of,” he reminded her, as he landed smoothly on one of the balconies. 

“We must pick them at once!” Elain decided right then and there, and Azriel chuckled at her eagerness.

“Fine. I’ll get some baskets.”

-

The thunderstorm brought them back inside after about an hour and a half of picking flowers, placing them in different baskets, sorted by colour. Azriel found something out about Elain that he wasn’t aware of before–she could keep things alive. A wave of her hand and the cut flowers promised to be just as fresh as they were today by the time the holiday rolled on. Azriel wished to find out more about this ability of hers, but he didn’t think that it was appropriate to do today.

By the time they ran back into the house, they were dripping wet. Azriel probably could have thrown a shield over them, but frankly, it totally slipped his mind.

So now, Elain stood in front of him, shivering from the cold, her dress clinging to her curves, her long hair dripping on the parquet floor.

“Oh gods, I am such a mess!” she fussed, trying to stop the deluge of water that was leaking onto the floor.

“It’s not an issue, you know,” Azriel mumbled, threading his fingers through his wet hair. “I am sorry I forgot the shield,”

“It’s alright!” she interrupted him, her lips blue but her cheeks red. “Are we…we…returning soon?”

He considered, looking outside the window.

“It’s coming down rather hard and we’d have to fly. Not that I can’t fly in the rain, however, I’d rather not do that while carrying you,” he told her honestly. 

“Oh,” she wrung out her hair, “but then…what do we do?” she blinked at him, her blush growing redder.

“You need a hot bath,” he said firmly and then took her by the hand and pulled her after him.

Elain looked around–it was a place that she’d imagine Azriel living in. Stylish, seemingly out of a different era and another world, orderly, clean. Large pieces of furniture, smartly arranged in the rooms. Wide open spaces. Unfussy decor, but expensive taste.

They walked up a stone and wrought iron staircase and soon Azriel opened one of the doors, ushering Elain inside.

It was a bedroom.

She assumed his bedroom.

Her feet stopped moving and she froze at the entrance, murmuring, “I cannot…I can’t…”

“It’s this or nothing,” he said bluntly and pushed her inside, his warm, large hand on the small of her back.

“This is your bedroom!” she screeched, scrambling backwards.

“A keen observation indeed. You are staying here or we are flying back in the pouring freezing rain. These are your choices,” he warned dangerously. Then, to soften his approach, he pointed to the door and said, “the bathing room is over there.”

Elain pursed her lips, while feeling a warm glow slowly slither down her body, despite the wet chill that she was feeling. Azriel…Azriel was forbidden. A mistake. He told her that they were a mistake about 11 months ago. But in the past ten days, he certainly hasn’t been acting like he was regretting being next to her. In fact, he was downright amorous in some ways, even if he tried not to show it. All that aside, what was she even thinking? She needed to keep herself and all her carnal urges in check.

“Fine!” she hissed. “But I am counting on you to be honourable and,”

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged. “I am not here to ravish you.”

Nevertheless, he followed her into the bathing room. There was a massive tub, but also a shower–something that Bryce Quinlan told them about from her world. Nesta, of course, jumped at the opportunity to get one fitted at the House of Wind. It would appear that Azriel was also in favour.

“Don’t take too long,” he said, turning on the knob, “I am cold too.”

“So, are you going to just stand here, while I undress?” she queried. 

“Wouldn’t mind it,” he replied over the rush of the water from the showerhead. “If you need any help,”

“I shan’t require any!” she snapped at him primly and he laughed merrily. 

“If you say so. The drying cloths are all here,” he pointed to a cupboard. “I think you can figure out soaps and lotions yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The hot water was beginning to steam the room and she looked at him through the fog.

Stop. Thinking. About. It. 

“Last call for assistance?” he offered. 

“I am fine.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged and then left the room at last. 

Elain exhaled loudly. If it wasn't for the heat in the bathroom, she would’ve guessed that she was sweating. 

Quickly stripping off her sodden dress, she stepped under the water and moaned out loud. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth and she muted herself, hoping that he didn’t hear her. His laughter from the bedroom confirmed otherwise.

She lathered her body, then her hair, and stood under the blast of hot water for gods’ only knew how long. But it was glorious. And she didn’t want to leave. 

At last, she remembered that Azriel was also wet and cold and probably needed the shower as well.

She rinsed and stepped out, noticing that the floor was heated and pondered whether it would be something that Rhysand should add to the River House.

“You decent?” Azriel asked, and before she could answer, he pulled the door open, clearly unconcerned by whether she was actually decent or if she stood there butt naked. 

“There is no food,” he announced quickly, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling on strings in the back and releasing it from around his wings. Elain just stood there, wrapped in the drying cloth, barefoot, with her legs exposed, staring at him openmouthed. He was just….undressing. In front of her. 

The gall!

He didn’t seem to care, because he continued shucking off his clothes, going on to unlace his trousers, and added, “but there was hot chocolate and I made you a cup. It’s on the nightstand.”

“Are we spending the night?”

“We are,” he nodded. 

“Where am I sleeping?”

“Your choices are: my bed or my bed. Granted, it’s not many choices to actually choose from, but that’s what it is.”

This man was out of his mind, and Elain didn’t know what to say.

“Grab a tunic of mine or you may sleep naked,” he offered. “I am fine with either one, though I do have a preference.”

“I can only imagine…” her voice trailed.

She slipped out of the bathing room just before he dropped his trousers. 

In the bedroom, she finished drying her body and her hair, and then went to the chest of drawers and found a white tunic of his. She put it on over her naked body, only now recalling that all her clothes, including her undergarments, were in the bathing room. Well, nothing she could do about that now. She was tired. Despite being extremely wound up, she was tired. She cradled the cup with hot chocolate in her hands and took a sip. It tasted divine–sweet and rich and so very chocolatey.

She couldn't even wrap her mind around what she was doing when she pulled the covers and slipped into the bed. She didn’t know what side Azriel slept on, and she didn’t care. Surely he wouldn’t actually sleep with her in the same bed! That would be preposterous.

The sheets and the pillows smelled fresh, of Azriel’s cedar-like scent. She rolled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek and then glanced towards the bathing room. The door was ajar and her heart jumped in her chest, when she glanced at Azriel’s completely naked body. Brown and glistening and beautiful beyond belief. He was muscular, and his tattoos spilled down his back, his chest and there was a whole string of some kind of runes etched down his spine. At some point, he must have felt her eyes on him, because he smirked and glanced in the mirror, catching her staring. His wing flipped back and exposed him completely, soliciting a gasp from Elain’s lips. Because…there it was. 

Huge.

He was huge.

Her eyes bugged out of her head, as she observed him. 

Even flaccid, he was enormous. ‘Impossible to fit’ enormous.

Granted, Elain wouldn’t consider herself very knowledgeable in the art of the bedroom, and had only seen one other cock in her life–Graysen’s. But Graysen was a mortal man, tall and strong, but human. Azriel wasn’t human. That much was obvious. Even if she managed to forget a pair of great reptilian wings that sprung out of his back, his height, his size and his physique definitely didn’t make him human. And now, there was that. Also, utterly inhuman. Yes, she was Fae too, and very hard to break, but Azriel’s cock would certainly break her. 

He was better for fantasising, and not for reality.

A boom of thunder woke her up. She slept so deeply, she only vaguely heard the steady drumming of rain on the balcony and against the windows. Sleepily, she extended her hand out and for a moment expected to find a warm male body next to her, but the sheets were cold and she was alone in the bed. 

She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved. 

She also didn't know if he’d gone to bed at all, or if he slept somewhere else in the house. 

Opening her eyes, she saw that it was still dark outside, with only the palest glimmer of sunlight peeking above the horizon, beyond the lake and the mountains. It was windy and dark, the night skies slashed repeatedly by lightning strikes and claps of thunder. 

It was during one such flash of lightning that she saw a great winged figure standing outside on the terrace. He was wearing only his black undershorts and his wings were relaxed, the bottom tips touching the floor.

She wasn’t sure why, but Elain tossed the blanket aside and set her bare feet on the soft carpet. She tugged on the hem of the tunic and then padded softly to the balcony. Cold autumn air lashed at her the moment she stepped outside and she shivered, though it seemed that Azriel didn’t even notice the pelting rain that bounced off the railing and peppered him with freezing water. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he suddenly snarled at her, without turning his head. “Go back inside.”

She stopped abruptly in her tracks, taken aback by his vicious tone.

“Did…did I do something?” she whispered.

“No. You didn’t,” he turned on his heels, so quick that she stumbled and almost fell back, but his massive arm caught her before she fell. 

His look was furious though, his brows bunched above his nose, his expression both angry and pained. He gripped her upper arm tightly, almost bruising her and then pulled her towards him. 

“A…z…” she breathed, shocked because in the next moment, he suddenly lifted her off the ground and pinned her to the wall of the building. Her legs naturally wrapped around his muscular thighs and he grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head, his face all but an inch away from hers. There was a moment of stillness, where there was just the cold rain and the lightning slashing the horizon, and their warm, panting breaths.

Elain’s mouth parted slightly, as she watched him and the indecision on his face. So she cocked her head to the side, exposing her throat for him, offering him everything he wanted from her. And she watched how his expression morphed into something sensual and decisive, as his lips found hers and he moaned softly into her mouth.

Everything, everything she wanted finally came down to this moment and it felt perfectly right. Even the brutality of the kiss didn’t take away from the tender longing that always lived between them. Azriel’s loneliness, his self doubt and self-hatred, Elain’s insecurities and her cursed bond–all were washed away by the fusion of their lips together.

This was Azriel. Her Azriel, whom she craved and yearned for since the night they saw each other back in the Human Lands. Kept apart by people, circumstances, obligations and expectations, right now, in this moment, maybe they could just come together and forget all about the things that separated them. 

He was hot and big and once he released her hands from his hold, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, burying her fingers in his thick hair.

“I want to bite you,” he groaned against her neck.

“Bite me then,” she welcomed.

“There would be no going back, you know,” he warned. “Not if I bite you.”

He hefted her higher, her unbound breasts sliding up and down his bare chest, the thin material of her tunic the only barrier between them. He stepped even closer, pressing her hips and her bottom into the smooth stone of the house wall and Elain felt him…scorching and eager and ready for her. Azriel didn’t bite her yet, but instead, trailed soft, hot kisses down her neck, her shoulder and stopped at the swell of her breast, before pulling her nipple roughly inside his mouth and sucking aggressively, his teeth clamping on the little swollen bud.

She cried out, in both pain and incredible pleasure, while propping her feet against the stone railing and giving him more space to manoeuvre. She needed his mouth. His hands. His body. All of it. The thought of this monster of a man becoming hers was dizzying and it was making her feel drunk. Azriel’s massive shoulders moved and flexed beneath her hands, while he sucked on her other nipple and she managed to reach between their bodies and pulled down his underwear, freeing that beast of a cock at last. 

There was no going back now. Even if she knew that should she say ‘no’ he would stop, she didn’t think that she could do it. She didn’t want to stop. She let him pull back from her breasts and grip the tunic firmly, before ripping it off her and leaving her naked in front of him. Her long hair tumbled over her torso, and he brushed it back impatiently, his eyes glued to her form.

“Every day I dream of you,” he whispered heatedly, stepping forward so that he was positioned between her thighs, “I dream and I know that I cannot have you. And I want to tear apart the world and destroy the Cauldron for not giving you to me. Because you are mine. You know this. I know this. You’ve always been mine.”

He gripped the thick length of his cock in his hand and rubbed the sleek, heavy head of it between the lips of her pussy. She moaned, throwing her head back against the stone, shivering and shaking with need and anticipation.

“I am,” she managed to say. “I am yours. Always have been. You were chosen for me,”

“And yet,” he began to say, but she clamped her hand over his mouth. 

“Nothing really matters. Only you and me. Together.”

He looked down again, his shaft dark and sturdy between her pale thighs and against her bare mound. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined possessing this sweet pussy of yours?” he marvelled, his voice hoarse. “Three years of celibacy…only because I knew that no other pussy would compare. No other pussy interested me.”

He fisted his cock harder and lined it along her wet, warm hole, which quivered at the feel of him. 

“Are you a virgin?” he asked, pausing. “I could never tell…”

She shook her head.

“I’ve done it. Once.”

A smile bloomed on his mouth. 

“Once?”

She nodded.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise gentleness,” he said honestly.

She felt the head of his cock part her entrance, pushing in just a bit.

“I don’t need you to be gentle. I need you,” she said simply.

He still held himself in check, just the tip of him inside of her, the stretch already agonisingly pleasurable for her. She moved impatiently, trying to take in more of him, but he held back.

“Like I said before, beautiful,” he warned, “once you are mine, you are mine. Damn your mate, damn Rhysand, and damn everything else. Once I own you, I own you forever.”

“Then own me,” she growled. “Take me however you want. Use me. Fill me up with your seed. Control me. Bleed me with your cock. Give me everything.”

His hazel eyes turned dark and menacing.

“Own my pussy,” she offered. “Own my body. Leave your scent all over me, so that everyone knows who I belong to.”

Azriel chose not to argue at that moment, and instead, he pushed his massive, scorching shaft deep inside of her in one brutal, solid move. 

She cried out into the storm, enveloped in his darkness, in his love.

Just like she expected, he was fucking massive. It was like being split in half by an unyielding ram, and she shook on his cock, momentarily wishing that it would just end and he’d withdraw.

But no. With her breath ripped away by every tiny movement of his shaft, she secretly wanted more. She clenched pathetically around him, while he dipped his face to her neck and licked her skin. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he pulled almost all the way out, before shoving back in and biting her neck at the same time.

The pain between her legs and in her neck made her feel faint, as he savagely tore through her pussy, marking her, moulding her, taking her for himself. 

“Auuu,” she moaned, scratching his back, while he sucked and bit her neck. It hurt so good, but it hurt nevertheless.

Instead of stopping or easing, he thrust even harder in her, deeper, opening her up completely.

“Take it,” came his order. “Take it all.”

“I am,” she breathed. “It hurts.”

“Good,” he said simply. “It should. An Illyrian warrior and a Fae is taking your soft, wet pussy for the first time. Of course it would hurt.”

She clung to him, getting pounded in with savage, deep thrusts, her pussy both needy, but on fire from how large he was. 

“Do you like it?” she whispered, kissing his lips. “Am I taking you well?”

He smiled and stroked her cheek. 

“My perfect girl,” his tongue brushed her lips. “With a perfect little hole for me to use. Do you like it, sweetheart?”

She nodded, moaning, “it’s so big.”

He smirked, “oh, I know, flower. Your pussy is full of the largest Illyrian cock and you are taking me so well.”

For some absurd reason, that made Elain proud. 

“I am going to turn us around, beautiful,” he told her, “so I can ride you harder.”

She barely even understood him, but allowed him to do what he wanted. 

He spun her around, and she propped her hands on the railing, her fists getting pelted with rain at once. His large, warm hands smoothed down her back and over her behind with appreciation, and he kicked her legs wider apart, before inserting himself back inside her battered hole.

“Oh gods,” was all she managed to groan, while his hand clamped on her shoulder and he held her steady, as he pounded into her.

Her breasts bounced hard from his rapid thrusting, and he looked at them, craning his neck, and smiling.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he asked, wrapping his fist with her hair. 

“Like I am being railed by the biggest Illyrian cock,” she grunted and he laughed heartily. She couldn’t help herself and laughed as well.

“And?”

“I love taking your cock,” she vowed softly. “I love all of you on me. Please ride me,”

“Oh, I am, flower. You are getting ridden for the three years of me not riding you.”

He dipped his fingers inside her mouth and said, “suck”.

She did. She licked and sucked his scarred fingers, feeling wild and out of control.

“You should’ve taken me earlier,” she told him, once he pulled out from her mouth and she looked over her shoulder at him. 

He looked at her, barely able to tear his gaze away from his shaft pumping in and out of her pink hole, and nodded, “I should have. I should’ve claimed you for my own right after the war. But, there were complications.”

She sighed, and he slapped her ass cheek lightly.

“Now, to rectify this a bit, you will fuck yourself on my dick, like the good girl that you are, but you will also pull apart your ass cheeks for me,” he commanded. 

Elain bit her lower lip and then reached down wordlessly, while he held her shoulder, and did as she was told–even though he was crude and she was embarrassed, she grabbed her bottom and pulled her cheeks apart for him, exposing her little hole.

She watched for his reaction over her shoulder and his face split into a satisfied grin. 

“Perfect,” he approved. “From now on, whenever you are taking me from behind, you will keep yourself open and your little asshole on display.”

She didn’t respond, too overwhelmed by how deeply he was driving into her. What he did next took her breath away completely–he circled her asshole with his fingers and pushed two inside. 

“Ahhhhh,” she cried out, stilling.

It felt…insane.

With his mega dick inside of her, and now his fingers in her ass, she thought that she was going to faint. He stopped moving too and then said sternly, “I didn’t hear you say ‘yes, of course’.”

She nodded frantically. 

“Yes, I am sorry. Yes, of course I will.”

“Now, show me how much you like my dick in your pussy. Fuck yourself on it. I’ll finger your little hole while you do it. If I don’t like how you take me, I will stop.”

And Elain did what he told her. 

She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to submit to him. Her neck ached from the bites. She moved her hips on his cock, gliding over it. She wanted to please him. She wanted to serve him.

He was rough and demanding, objectionable in every way, but she couldn’t get enough of him. Of his body. His musk. His cock.

His gaze made her insides clench with desire for him. Everything about him was perfect–his stunning body, his dominance, his control. He knew what he wanted and he took it. 

Banding his arm around her stomach and waist, Azriel pulled her back, and then, with his dick and his fingers still inside of her, he plummeted heavily on the padded bench, taking her with him. 

“I want to watch you climax, sweetheart,” he whispered warmly in her ear, while he fucked up into her from the bottom. Her whole body was trembling and spasming with pleasure and each push of his cock brought her closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. 

“I want to,” she breathed.

“I know,” he kissed the side of her neck, gently tweaking her nipple with his available hand. “Give it to me. Show me.”

Her fingers dug painfully into his knees, her breathing rugged and loud, as she squeezed him inside of her, milking him with her inner muscles.

Hot seed shot deep inside of her and she felt the moment that he released, as she cried out with desperation and shuddered violently atop of him. Unravelling a man like Azriel was something that made her strangely proud. It wasn’t something most women could claim, yet he was undone beneath her. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered into her cheek and then turned her face, so he could kiss her.

She was gasping for air as she kissed him messily, licking his tongue and his lips. He stroked her hair, smiling at her.

“Was that good?” he asked.

She nodded, “Indescribable.”

“Wonderful. But that was just round one. Now, I want round two…”

“Again?” she gasped.

“Did you think we were done?” he laughed.

“But…”

“You will turn around and sit on my face,”

“WHAT?” she exclaimed, eyes wide, her pulse beating wildly beneath her skin.

“You heard me.”

He carefully lifted her up off his still-hard dick and looked at her with male satisfaction.

He’d made her bleed. 

She wasn’t surprised exactly. He probably tore something inside of her. Graysen’s human member was no match for Azriel’s Illyrian cock. 

“Well, look at that! maybe I took your virginity after all,” he joked, and then leaned back on the bench.

Elain stood there, watching him in all his sprawling, relaxed glory.

He was indeed a beast, dressed in the skin of the most beautiful Fae imaginable. 

His skin glistened in the early morning light, the tattoos taking on a life of their own. He was firm, and solid all over, his body an unforgiving network of scars and muscles. His wings were spread out, a magnificent border around the two of them.

And he was hers.

Somehow, he was hers.

She lowered herself on his lap, straddling his thighs. He cupped her breasts in his hands and then leaned in to kiss her.

“You are dripping with my seed,” he noted, looking down.

She blinked and nodded. 

“I am.”

She was.

“Best sight I’ve ever seen.”

He bit her neck again, gentler this time. But then asked,

“I told you to sit on my face, not my lap.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t disobey me again, or I’ll punish this pretty pussy.”

She exhaled. There was nothing to say to his vulgar words. She was all in. With him. 

-

All Hallow’s Eve

“Death? Really?” 

Rhysand’s sarcastic voice interrupted Azriel’s consumption of a walnut and cinnamon bun. The shadowsinger turned around and cocked a disbelieving brow at the High Lord. 

“You are dressed as a spy,” he scoffed. “Are you really the one to talk?”

“Maybe I always wanted to be like you. Lurking in the shadows. Ravishing maidens.”

“I don’t have to ravish them,” Azriel argued, his eyes never leaving the sight of Elain, who was dressed as the Death of Spring–her face carefully painted, her costume decorated with large flowers. She flitted about the enormous reception room, chatting with guests, smiling, drinking spooky cocktails. 

The mansion was decorated with pumpkins and bundles of anemone, candles suspended high up in the air, phantom wind blowing gently and ruffling everyone’s unique costumes. 

Nesta was dressed as a black swan and it suited her. Cassian came to the party dressed as a wizard, and now was dancing with Feyre, who was dressed as a…huntress. Not very original, in Azriel’s opinion, but he kept that to himself.

“The maidens come to me themselves,” Azriel pointed out.

“So it would seem,” Rhys sipped his liquor. “You know,”

“Really not interested in what you are about to say,” Azriel waved him off.

“Only that I can smell you on her…”

“Good. As you should.”

“Her mate is here.”

“He is too late.”

Azriel looked Rhys straight in the eye and asked,

“Care to explain this whole ‘we took turns preparing the Hallow’s Eve party’ bullshit that you concocted?”

The High Lord chuckled.

“Oh, you liked that?”

“I am not sure,” Azriel admitted truthfully.

If it weren’t for Rhysand’s involvement, Elain wouldn’t be walking right now with Azriel’s seed dripping down her thighs.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Rhys smirked.

“Fucking stop that!” Azirel snarled.

“You can thank me later, brother,” Rhys clapped him on the back. “She bought it. You understood the assignment. And now…” his voice trailed. “Now she is yours at last.”

She was.

“She is,” Azriel nodded his confirmation. 

My right.

My destiny.

My woman.

[thelov3lybookworm]

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[freyjas-musings]

So , now that the event has officially come to an end I think I would like to say my 2 cents on the troll account that popped in the middle of an event . Irrespective of which fandom or side this person belongs to one thing that is accurate is that it's an abomination that shouldn't have been born at all. I am a 100% sure its someone everyone hates in their real life too.

TW : INSENSITIVE SA DISCOURSE POINTED OUT

Now, is it fair to blame the entire group of Elriels for that troll? No , but what is shitty is Elriels pretending an Elriel has "never" done anything like that.... That's inaccurate...

Below is an example from a verified Elriel account saying exactly the same sort of shit .... since some of you want to pretend it's not an elriel thing

There you go a verified Elriel who has been around for a while ... and consistent discourse in SA insensitivity. .. So its reasonable for people to assume the troll account is an Elriel... stop pretending to be Victims. I have a few more examples from other accounts that are verified Elriel too

One of Elriels lead Commissioners on Gwyn ... So this BS that Elriels have never made hate posts or insensitive posts about Gwyn is farthest from the truth. No one is buying it .

2. This troll account popped up in the middle of an event, an event that was going exceptionally well and was getting the recognition and reach it deserved , why would one of our own cause Drama to disrupt that ?

3. The trolls brain , the quality of that brain is unbelievable.... its unfortunately questionable ... How ?

Elriels: They are trying to pretend to be Elriel so they can make us look bad....

Troll : while completely engaging in anti gwyn and Gwynriel discourse ... Littering all over an event page by leaving disgusting comments on the content.... tagging all their posts Elriel

I mean the quality of that brain, if this was someone who created that account to make Elriels look bad why on earth would they say they "aren't" Elriel 😅😅😅😅😅

This is the sort of brain that comes up with bread and roses so please don't blame us for assuming this asshole is an Elriel.

Now , do I care which side that asshole belongs to ? Not really , anyone who has been here a while knows shitty people in this fandom are rampant irrespective of the side .

Sexual Abuse is not limited to females so when someone writes terrible things about SA survivors it's not gender based hate speech , Male assault is just as real and relevant too.. its an insult to SA Survivors as a whole ... I don't give a fuck about people's personal opinions about fictional characters but when you specifically write posts that are insensitive towards what is a very real issue in today's world you should stand up against it irrespective of the group .

I am specifically not tagging Elriel in this post because I have no interest in interacting with any of them . This is for my side , my people for Gwyn stans ... for Gwynriel stans .... so I am specifically asking Elriels to stay away from my blog and posts.

I am going to be inactive on this account for a few weeks , I am truly burnt out with the fandom and some of the things I have read about survivors in the recent few days has unfortunately triggered me a lot. Based on my discussion with my friends and my husband I do feel the best course of action for me would be to take a brief break ... I will be back for Elucien Week 🤗

[slytherhys]

A Case of Punctuality

A/N: As per usual, I'm quite late on posting this oneshot but I thought we needed a celebration either way so here it goes: a smutty elriel oneshot in honour of all the wonderful things we've discovered since friday. I truly hope this filthy, blush-inducing smutty oneshot is enough to thank you all for being so patient with me. ;)

TW: Explicit sexual content; explicit language; very much not El*cien friendly

Word count: ± 4K words | You can also find this story on AO3!

Elain checked the time once again, trying her best not to fidget where she sat between a rigid Lucien and an oblivious Feyre. She couldn’t say she loved these poorly executed attempts at setting them up, but she could hardly complain when her sister’s intentions were nothing but pure (even if she couldn’t say the same thing about her husband’s). Still, Elain couldn’t bring herself to pretend she cared for the company she was being forced to keep.

Lucien, for his part, seemed as thrilled as she felt. Beyond his obvious discomfort, Nesta had been glaring at the back of his side for the bigger part of the night, watching his every move as if ready to strike at the slightest jerk of a knee. Elain almost pitied the male. In any other scenario Elain would’ve hated Nesta’s attention, but truth be told, no matter how hypocritical it was, she couldn’t help but appreciate her sister’s overbearing control. Mainly as Lucien cleared his throat, turning his body towards her once again.

“Have you been doing well, then?” He cleared his throat again. “Here in Velaris?”

It was a variation of all his previous questions, really. Are you liking the Town House? Is your occupation making you happy? Have you made friends? Elain couldn’t accuse him of not trying, but he seemed as interested in her answers as she was in his questions. Neither of them wanted to be there, next to each other. Elain knew exactly where she wanted to be, and by the longing looks Lucien kept sending the door, she assumed he did too.

Far, far away from her. Closer to the bird of fire, most likely.

Still, Elain smiled. There were still 9 minutes to go, after all. “I’m exactly where I want to be.” She offered. “What about you?”

Lucien nodded, eyes straying to the door once again, a gentle smile on his lips. “I suppose I am too.” Really, it was all she could do not to force him out of the house, back to where he truly wanted to be. It was pitiful. “But as it stands, I was needed in Velaris.” His eyes flickered to Rhys, who stood by Feyre, talking to her with a teasing smile on his face.

Elain eyed Lucien carefully. So, an assignment had brough him to Velaris – Elain doubted that the fact Lucien had arrived the very same day Azriel had been sent away was a coincidence. Rhysand was nothing if not thorough.

But so was Elain. She eyed the clock again. 7 minutes to go. “And when will you be going back?” If there was any anticipation clinging to her voice, they both chose to ignore it.

“Tomorrow, my lady.” A bow of his head. Elain remained silent, afraid she’d reveal how relieved she felt. By the way Lucien suddenly stood up, excusing himself ever so politely, she doubted she had accomplished it. He turned to her, as if suddenly remembering he couldn’t just leave her. Both ignored the soft growl Nesta sent his way. “Will I see you at midnight? For a celebration dance?” A Velarian custom – to dance the waltz at the turn of the New Year.

Elain winced apologetically. “I will be retiring to bed soon enough.” She stood as well, making sure they both kept their distance. “But I shall see you tomorrow before you leave.” She offered instead. A boon neither wanted.

Relief seemed to course through his body, an easy smile overtaking his features as he bowed, “Of course, my lady.” And then he was making his way towards the Mor – or, most likely, the table filled with drinks behind her. Elain ignored the blonde’s knowing smirk, as she did Rhysand’s eyes on the side of her face. She turned to her younger sister.

“I think I’ll take my leave.” She dusted off her lavender dress as if to brush away any lingering traces of their conversation. “I was up rather early, and I want to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“How did it go?” Feyre asked.

“About as interesting as it usually does.” She offered Rhys a bland smile, noticing the amused smile her baby sister was trying to repress.

“I expect my bedroom walls to be much more stimulating.” Feyre choked on her wine, doing her best to hide her laughter. Rhysand turned to her, clearly feeling betrayed by his mate.

 “Elain.” He warned. Luckily for her, Feyre was quick to scold him, shooing him away before he said anything else. Rhysand huffed, clearly feeling betrayed by his mate. Elain was glad of his departure – she loved Rhysand, but resentment was a wound deep inside her psyche that seemed to fester whenever he played with her love life as if one of his chess games. Feyre too seemed to be aware of it as she pulled her into a comforting hug.

Elain eyed the clock again. 4 minutes.

“Happy New Year, Elain.” Feyre pulled away, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I do hope your bedroom walls help you welcome the new year with much more bliss.”

Elain said nothing, giving Feyre a quizzical smile before swiftly leaving the room. Luckily, Rhysand seemed to be involved in a rather dramatic discussion with Cassian and Amren, and other than Nesta’s eyes trailing after her, no one seemed to notice as she slipped into the shadows of the staircase, hurrying before anyone could look her way - and before he could tease her again about being late. Again.

Still, Feyre’s words seemed to follow her. Was it possible that her sister knew? Or that she at least suspected it? Elain believed very little to be unknown by Feyre, and despite her efforts, she knew her High Lady frequently knew more about her life than what she let on.

Elain crossed the shadowy hall, letting all her worries be forgotten in the light as she opened the door to her chamber. Before the candles flickered to life, before Elain could wonder why goosebumps erupted all over her skin, a scarred hand was covering her mouth, the other quietly shutting the door in front of her. She was pressed against a hard body – the scent of the night clinging to his every inch.

For the first time that night, Elain relaxed. Her body seemed to melt against his hold as she felt cold lips press against the side of her neck.

“Princess.” He greeted softly, his lips finding the skin under her ear. Elain whimpered against his hand, eyes fluttering close as his tongue trailed the column of her neck.

She easily escaped his hold, turning around and drinking in the sight of him. He was still wearing the leathers he favoured for his missions, and his hair was slightly ruffled. His cheeks were flushed, making Elain wonder if he had flown here in a hurry.

Her clammy hands pressed against the wooden door, a futile attempt at grounding herself. She quickly scanned him from head to toe, looking for any signs of injury. Clearly, Azriel had no such concerns.

Before she could ask him anything his hands were cupping her jaw, his cold lips seeking hers. There was nothing soft about it; desperation was what painted his every move. His tongue seeking hers, his hands deftly letting loose the knots of her dress, his knee pressed between her legs. Elain bucked against his knee, her free-will clouded by the desire that now controlled her.

 “You’re early.” Elain panted.

He barely lifted his lips from hers. “I rushed home.”

She gently pushed him away, lifting an eyebrow. “From a mission?”

Azriel smiled softly. “Had a good motive.” And then he was kissing her again, his hands pressing against the back of her knees. Elain let herself go, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. His arousal pressed against her centre, making Elain moan into the kiss.

“You need to be quiet.” He all but growled, gently laying her on the bed. “You don’t want anyone to know what you’re doing, do you, princess?” He teased, smirking as the cocky asshole he usually became before fucking her.

But before he could lean down again and claim her like he surely planned to, Elain got to her knees, watching him with hooded eyes and flaming cheeks, basking in the surprise that flickered in his face. She smiled cheekily, slowly pulling her dress down her shoulders, happy to be the one that brought him to his knees for once. She was so attuned to Azriel that the hitch of his breath did not go unnoticed and then it was Elain smirked as she fully uncovered what she was hiding under her dress.

Azriel went still.

Needless to say, she had spared no expense on her New Year’s outfit. At least on the one she had worn under her old blue dress.

Under the bobbing, faint, fae lights, her lilac, lace bra seemed to shimmer, the petals of the embroidered flowers covering just enough of her skin for it to be a tease. On her waist a silk garter belt – adorned with intricate designs of the same wildflowers that covered her breast – was connected to see-through, lilac-tinted stockings that made her luscious thighs gleam in the moonlight. Azriel seemed unable to focus on one thing alone – his eyes flickered from her chest to the flimsy fabric covering her pussy, to her thighs and back to her breasts.

He growled, the sound of pure male desire sending a shiver down her spine. “And you wonder why I rushed home.” He murmured, more to himself than to her. Elain could only blink, smiling sheepishly.

“So, you like it?”

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving her figure, as if drinking in the sight of her. His scarred hands gripped her waist, his fingers absently tracing the wildflowers pressed against her skin. “Princess, I like it so much I almost feel bad about ruining it.” He pressed his nose into her hair, smiling against her temple as his hands dropped to her hips. To the fabric there. “Almost.”

And then Elain gasped, for the flimsy fabric seemed to just break apart in his hands. In a flash, she was bared to him, her bra quickly following the same fate. The garter, however, remained in place. From the way his eyes trailed it, Elain doubted it’d be coming out any time soon. Still, despite his obvious interest and the fact it made Elain feel entirely too please with herself, she sputtered, wanting to throttle him for ruining her very pretty, very expensive underwear.

But before she could so much as whine about it, Azriel dropped to his knees, his hands trailing her legs before pushing them open. The scent of her arousal surrounded them, and Elain had no time to feel embarrassed by how wet she was for him. Azriel pressed his face between her legs, his tongue expertly swirling against her pussy in a maddening pace that had her toes curling. He was devouring her.

“Fuck, Az.” She moaned, falling on her back as she reached for him, mindless with the need to touch him. To feel him.

He pulled away from her and Elain groaned at the sudden loss. Before she could complain – possibly hit him – he grabbed both her hands and put them on the top of his head, smirking up at her. There was nothing but the promise of pure sin on his face as he eyed her sprawled in front of him, her legs shamelessly spread around his shoulders. He curled her fingers around his hair, a command if there was ever one.

Oh. Oh.

Azriel pressed a kiss inside her thigh. “Ride my face, princess.” He rasped, as if she needed him to make it even more clear.

Elain was more than happy to oblige, pulling his hair as she bucked her hips against his sinful mouth, moaning whenever he flickered her clit. Azriel just kept swirling his tongue, following her lead, and groaning as if the taste of her was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. Every wet stroke against her core brought Elain closer and closer to the edge, her legs shaking her legs shaking around his head as he licked her without restrain. The feeling of his thick finger pressing inside of her was all it took for Elain to break apart, crying out as she shattered against his mouth.

“Fuck.” Azriel panted, looking deliciously dishevelled and satisfied, as if her orgasm had brought him as much pleasure as it had her. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all fucking week.”

Elain giggled – giggled – unable to move her body in her dazed state of mind. Azriel clearly didn’t mind continuing to worship her body. He caressed her glistening skin, peppering kisses along her ribcage, her breasts, her shoulders as he climbed up her body. Elain was panting by the time he reached her mouth, the tangy taste of her sending a forbidden rush down her bloodstream. She was putty in his hands, her body sated even as her arousal pressed against her skin, demanding attention. Elain ignored it, meeting his eyes instead.

His handsome face broke into a soft smile, his eyes tracing her features as he pressed a kiss to her nose. “Hi, princess.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her on the lips.

Elain blushed, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to her. It was always like this, she realized. The need to touch him, to have him close to her as if he could slip into the shadows at any moment. She brushed those thoughts away.

“Hi.” She pushed his hair away from his eyes, hips bucking against his tragically still-dressed hips. “Why are you still dressed?” She whined, smiling as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her neck.

Azriel chuckled against her collarbone. “I was busy.” He purred, his dark hair shinning under the fae lights as his lips now wrapped around her nipple. Pleasure stirred in her belly, her legs instinctively pulling him closer to her again. His cock was hard under his leathers, and the feel of it so thoroughly ready for her after spending all night waiting for him nearly drove her to madness. “Do you need something, princess?” He smirked, far too cocky for Elain’s liking. But then his lips were teasing her, tasting her skin as he licked her other nipple, softly pulling it between his teeth.

“Yes.” She gasped.

Azriel chuckled darkly, taking off his shirt and throwing it somewhere behind him. Elain took advantage of his distraction to press her hand against his covered cock, squeezing it, stroking it through the leathers as she drank the sight of his naked chest.

Azriel dropped back his head, groaning up to the skies as she continued to stroke him. He was divine – all hard lines and swirling dark paint, a chest carved by the old Gods. And it was something close to despair that clenched her heart as she realized she could never get sick of the sight of him – there wasn’t a world where, no matter how many times she licked, sucked, or fucked him, she would ever get sick of him. She got up to her knees, closing her mouth around his nipple, biting softly just as he had hers. In a flash, his hands were wrapped around her hair, pulling her face back as he stared down at her.

“Tell me what you want so I can give it to you.” Elain shook her head, smiling cheekily as she kept stroking his cock. Azriel tightened the hair around his fist, pulling a whimper from her as the delicious pressure coursed through her body. “What do you want.” He gritted through his teeth.

“I want you.” She said simply, her eyes locked on his. “I always want you.” She pulled at the laces of his pants, undoing them with the grace of a trembling fawn. Pulling his face towards her with her free hand, pressing his forehead against hers, she said, “But right now I need you to fuck me.”

Azriel cursed under his breath, turning her around so that she faced the wall instead of him. She was on her hands and knees before he could order her to, the sound of his pants rustling and smacking against the floor a delicious omen of what was to come. Elain could almost ignore the disappointment of not being able to see his glorious cock, to watch the moment he entered her, watch as his he closed his eyes and bit his lip in an attempt to keep all sound locked inside of him.

Instead, she felt the tip of his cock press against her pussy as he coated himself in her arousal, both groaning as he grinded against her sensitive skin.

“You’re so wet for me.” He groaned, his hands trailing her back as if he was memorising the sight of her. Elain knew – she could hear it as he pushed inside her, could feel it in the way he entered her with ease despite his size. Her arms buckled under her as he filled her, and she moaned against the soft comforter in a poor attempt to cover her own sounds.

Their friends and family were downstairs – the male who called himself her mate too. Elain didn’t care – she couldn’t care as Azriel pulled his cock back and pushed inside again, groaning as she clenched around him. Elain cursed, her hips moving in time with his thrusts, seeking his touch every time he pulled away.

He grabbed her hair again, pulling her up as he kept fucking her at a tantalizing speed. Too slow for her to come, but too fast for her not to cry out every time he pushed back inside. “Was this what you wanted, princess?” He asked, pressing his tongue against the curve of her neck, his other hand wrapping around her waist as he kept her in place. “To start the new year filled with my cock?”

Elain whimpered, reaching for his cheek. “I need to see you. Please, let me see you.”

Azriel was only too happy to oblige. Elain moaned as he pulled out of her, lying on his back, his cock glistening against his stomach. Then, his hands were around her and, as if she weighted nothing at all, he set her on top of him, straddling him. He watched her through hooded eyes as she panted, watching him right back.

Azriel smirked knowingly, surely about to mock her, or taunt her as he usually did when she was horny beyond comparison. Instead, Elain raised herself to her knees, grabbing his cock and slowly lowering herself until he was filling her once again. Azriel immediately closed his eyes, throat working as he gasped and cursed under his breath.  

In this position, he seemed to go even deeper than before, hitting nerves Elain had nearly forgotten existed. His scarred hands were on her waist, his fingers absently tracing the garter belt as he licked his lips and watched her get used to his size.

“You better start riding me, princess, it’s nearly midnight.” He rasped, smirking even as he panted. Elain didn’t care about the time, nor did she care about his teasing; not when all she could focus on was the feel of him inside of her. He was throbbing, twitching inside of her every time she moved her hips. When the pressure started being replaced by numbing pleasure, all Elain could do was ride his cock, moaning as he squeezed her tits. Azriel too, seemed lost in their joining. He raised his knees, thrusting from below, all teasing forgotten as he wildly chased the same pleasure that Elain sought.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed as she bounced, moaning as Azriel sat up and licked her breasts, his hand wrapping around her neck and squeezing ever so slightly.

“Are you gonna cum for, Elain?” He rasped, his handsome face watching her with something akin to adoration. He squeezed tighter, his thrusts sloppy and rushed, as if he himself was lost to the pleasure. “Cum around my cock like a good girl, princess.”

Elain pressed her mouth against his shoulder, moaning against his skin as she felt the world burst and begin anew. There was nothing but the male under her, nothing but the pleasure he gave her as he filled her again and again as his tongue traced the salt on her skin. Light exploded behind her eyelids, and she whimpered again as she heard Azriel groan, going still as he spilled inside of her with her name on his lips.

Then, the room went silent. Belatedly, she realised the room was filled with light. She opened her eyes, watching through the window as the night sky was painted into a rainbow of colour. Elain chuckled softly, panting, and exhausted as she noted with surprise the bite mark on Azriel’s shoulder. She blushed, choosing to press soft kisses to his skin instead of alarming him of the fact she had bitten him like a feral animal.

Azriel fell to his back, pulling her with him after wrapping his arms around her.

“Well,” He chuckled, nodding towards the window. “Just in time.”

Elain nodded, unable to stop herself from grinning, even as tears filled her eyes. She turned to Azriel, who watched her with a too-familiar emotion burning in his eyes. One she felt stirring inside her as well. Azriel smiled, as if completely aware of everything going through her mind. Elain feared he’d voice it – feared they’d be forced to face the very same thing they promptly avoided every time they were together.

“Happy new year, princess.” He offered instead. And again, all thoughts of unwanted bonds and meddling High Lords were forgotten. There was only him. There was only them.

“Happy new year, my love.” Elain smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his jawline, and lying her head against his chest. “Do you have any wishes?” She asked, eyeing the fireworks once again.

Azriel started playing with her hair, his heart playing a steady beat under her ear. “Wishes?” She could almost hear the frown in his voice.

Elain nodded, though he could probably only feel her move. “For the new year.”

Azriel took a deep breath, seeming to take it over. So much time seemed to pass that Elain assumed he no answer or, at the very least, that he had one but wasn’t too interested in voicing it out loud. Elain sure wasn’t.

But then he spoke. “I do.” He pressed a kiss against her hair and Elain’s heart tumbled. “And I’m fairly optimist about them.”

She stilled, raising her head, and looking up at him, only to find him already watching her. She understood then. They didn’t need to explain exactly what he wished for, did they? It was the very same thing she wished for too. “You are?” Her voice shook, and Azriel reached for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. A comfort. “Why?”

“Call it a hunch.” He said, kissing her again, his tongue a soft caress against her own. She could feel his arousal stirring inside of her, could feel her own body reacting to it. Azriel, however, did nothing but look into her eyes, an almost boyish smile on his lips. “I think this year will be kind to us.”

Elain said nothing. Not even as hope fluttered inside her chest; not as he pushed her into her back, as he fucked her, kissed her, loved her and then did it all over again. After all, who was Elain to question him when she wished for nothing more?

[izanna]

This rose, has thorns.

This Rose Has Thorns.

Chapter 1 

By Izanna

Tw: not for Lucien lovers and warning for gore and mentions of trauma/childhood abuse.

An unhinged Elriel fanfiction 

From one crazy idea to an entire fanfic, I hope you like it.

Elain rolled out of bed, pushing the heavy covers from her exhausted body. It had been months since the moment between Azriel and her at solstice. She had done her best to put the sullen memory out of her mind and carry on like nothing happened. The rejection had stung and brought her down to a place she didn’t want to be. It was like crawling out of a depthless pit she’d already crawled out of after the Cauldron consumed her, only this time she didn’t have Azriel to help her. He wasn’t here to lead her to the garden for sunlight and healing. He wasn’t here to understand her when no one else did. 

While she did have the twins for company and they did attempt to dote on her and worried after her, she hadn't been accepting of it and tried to lessen their worry over her. After Nesta and her had a fight last year, she'd been made keenly aware how much of a burden she was to care for in her solemness.

She had to pull herself out this time, and in this newfound routine, something bitter had grown. Something sharp and ready to draw blood. She couldn’t discern if it was truly from her own core and the being she was at heart, or the dark that lurked leftover by the cauldron. The visions she had still haunted her. She formed a habit of steeling her face at every moment to keep others from seeing how they affected her. 

Brief clips of time and pictures ran through her mind calling to her. 

She couldn’t understand it, the fragments and pieces. But continuing to worry over it wouldn’t stop them or give anyone else the impression she was fine, so she ignored them and waited; waited for the moments to come where she knew what would happen. A knock at her door jolted her from her mind just then. 

“Elain? Are you in there?” Feyre’s voice called along with the sounds of her now babbling nephew 

“Yes.”  her morning voice croaked, still weary from the lack of use so early.

The door cracked open before Feyre stood in the unpainted oak frame with a now 8-month-old Nyx, on her hip, wiggling and staring bright-eyed with little wings flapping in excitement while hitting Feyre’s arm and side.

 She sighed exasperatedly, before readjusting him to a better position to avoid further onslaught. 

“I came up to warn you… Lucien is going to be here today.” 

Elain felt her body stiffen at the name and pushed against the violent urge to recoil. She had never grown to like this male they all wanted her to accept, for everyone’s comfort but her own. She’d made it obvious she thought, her discomfort, she’d tried to be polite in it. But the way they always tried to push her with him in moments he was around. It made her sick with anger. 

“Oh. I see” she scanned over Feyre’s worried face. Feyre quickly replaced her expression with a pained one as the curious baby pulled her hair. Elain giggled at the sight; she couldn't help it. He’d grown in strength and cuteness every day since he’d been born. 

 She stood now, pulling her amethyst dress out for the morning and a favored sunhat to begin her garden work. 

“Will you… try to talk to him today? When he arrives?” Feyre’s eyes ran over Elain pleading to her.  They had all wanted Elain to just.. try. 

To try to accept the bond or get to know him.  Everyone disregarded her obvious discomfort in answer. Azriel had known though… he had seen the unwillingness she’d always had to understand that male. But he had been gone for months now, only here to speak with Rhysand briefly and fly away without a look, a word, any acknowledgements. She swore he still looked back once in a while at her when her head finally turned from him. 

She bit her tongue to feel the pain as she looked at Feyre still pleading. 

“I've told you before; I don't owe him my time, attention, or anything else. If you can not accept my answer for the refusal it is, I will make sure to be nowhere findable when he arrives.” 

Feyre jolted back at the words and finally conceded defeat. “Yes. Of course, it’s your decision. I’m sorry for pushing you.” 

Elain nodded softly “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be… harsh. I just don’t want to see him.” 

Feyre nodded once more smiling “It’s okay, I pushed your boundary and you were just letting me know. I will see you at breakfast.”  With that, Feyre had turned out of the door as fast as she had been there. Elain watched her sister descend the steps with a little Nyx hand still gripping a fistful of hair. 

As she closed the door, she felt her vision blacken and the vision worm its way to the forefront of her consciousness.. 

Someone chained her hands, the same way it happened when they took her to Hybern's camp. A male’s tall back in a grey coat stood in front of her, leading in a panicked way. That red hair was unmistakable. Her mate was leading her somewhere in chains. She was screaming and crying, trying to flee and break from him, but he had held strong. “I’m sorry,” he muttered with a pained face. “I apologize, but it's the only way he'll release her.”  The tears felt like her cheeks were stained with molten rage. “I refuse you and this is your answer?! To betray me once more?!” She watched his head hang low in resignation. “yes… I’m sorry.” She spat at him as her final answer. The dark wizard appeared, standing in wait. The man they told her was a death god. Ancient cruel. Koschei. His smile was anything but warm. It was cold and hungry. Vassa stood beside him, not willing to look Elain in the eyes.

Her hands shook as her vision cleared. She fell to her knees. This.. was a warning. Of what would happen. Her visions hadn’t been so clear in months, like they were waiting for decisions and choices to be made for the clarity to come forth. She gathered her strength and stood finally, Decidedly.

She looked over at her amethyst dress and straw hat, nodding to herself before finally readying for the day. 

——

When she had finished breakfast, she’d rushed out to the garden where she’d been working with an older fairy woman to plant some baby’s breath and marigolds the other day. They were encompassing a small vegetable garden in hopes to deter deer from the newly planted tomatoes. Today she was working on the side planting small rose bushes with ground cover succulents. They didn’t have a purpose like the plants she’d cared for yesterday, These were purely for beauty and smell. The fairy she’d been working with wasn’t here today, she’d already written ahead to let her know her daughter had gone into labor so she’d be busy for the day. Elain didn’t mind as sometimes the lonesomeness was a comfort away from forced conversations.

 Azriel had been the only person she’d never felt forced around. She shut the pining in her heart out with a fervent push and focused on trimming the prickly unruly stems that were apparent, she had half a mind to just let them be and continue in their own chaos, but every snip brought a sense of control to tame the bush and how it would grow to be more favorable to onlookers. 

She mused a minute thinking of how she was no different than this rose. Her mind fettered with words and pictures while the flow of her work took over. It’s become a thing of normalcy now, it no longer perturbed her like it first had. 

“Hello Elain” 

The abrupt greeting made her hand slip and her thumb now had a good size thorn in it that made her hiss.

 But her heart seized as she turned knowingly to glare at the intrusive greeter.

His hazel eyes met hers, and she felt the pang of want, and sadness. What she did not expect was the tall red haired male that stood next to him. Her nose crinkled in disgust at the unwelcome sight, she remembered however this was not polite and tucked her emotion away once more.

Her eyes darted from Lucien back to Azriel in accusation. They had trapped her, after everything she’d said to Feyre.

Azriel looked back at her unfalteringly with apologies in his eyes but something else lingered. 

She stood, finally deciding not to let them invade her space anymore, so she wouldn’t have to remember it again later when she came back to her work. 

This day would already be enough to remember and a headache to forget without it infecting her sanctuary like rot.

She watched Azriel’s wing twitch as she moved closer, his shadows brightened slightly but  began coiling soon after in remembrance of who else was standing next to them.  She now saw two violet eyes peering out the window behind them and knew. Rhysand had forced this onto Azriel.  She forced herself to stand tall and look into the eyes of the tan, red haired male before her. 

“Hello” she regarded him curtly. 

He dipped his head in regard. “Hello, I was wondering if I might… have a moment of your time, my lady?”  She observed his ash grey jacket and remembered the vividness of her vision earlier. “Only if he may join us.” She finally conceded, looking to Azriel, who now returned the look with such intensity. A small snarl tore her attention from his beautiful hazel eyes and she looked over to him, who now bristled in accusations unsaid. 

Her jaw ticked in anger and impatience at his unhidden impertinence.

“Either you accept, or you can leave and cease wasting my time.” Lucien startled, now looking at her. “You’re… different, than I remember you.”

 She inhaled in annoyance, the only  response she would deign. “He finally nodded. “Alright, I accept your term of chaperone.” He distastefully bit the last word out with a look to Azriel who never took his eyes from Elain, a secret gloating resided behind them, but his shadows flickered in warning to Lucien's tone. Lucien only stood firm not balking at the subtle threat the shadows made toward him. 

She nodded and turned on her heel to walk further away from the window of violet prying eyes. The two males followed her lead carefully.  She wandered a warm mossy deer path into the forest between houses that held a meadow, her hands glided to touch and love every leaf and twig she passed with a tenderness, finally as they arrived beneath a weeping willow, there sat 4 chairs and glass table hidden in secrecy and beauty on the edge of this meadow. She went to pull a chair to sit, but before her hands reached it, the shadowsingers rough scarred hand had already held it pulling it out for her. Her breath hitched as his closeness became so apparent, not even a body’s width away from her. 

She looked into the hazel eyes for a moment of thanks, but quickly looked away in anger from the remembrance of pain that still lingered between them. He nodded solemnly pushing her chair in for her 

Lucien had already taken his seat and tapped his finger on the glass in aggravation toward Azriel’s obvious closeness “Must he sit here with us or can he linger further away?” Lucien now looked to Elain, his irritation becoming more apparent. She looked between them before a nod to Azriel who begrudgingly walked to the other side of the tree to wait, his shadows dancing in obvious displeasure. She could still see  his wings on either side of the tree as his shadows peered by the edges as nosey as ever. A soft smile came to her lips before she finally turned to face Lucien.

 His hardened face was very beautiful, she didn’t deny it. She knew he was gorgeous, as she knew some weeds carried beauty in them. She thought of foxglove and morning glory as she looked over him. Persistent, annoying, strangling, deadly.  His eyes finally narrowed on her as he spoke “Our bond… I’ve come to talk to you about it.”

She looked him unfalteringly in his eyes before nodding “I know why you have come” she watched him flinch back a nervousness overtaking his candor. 

She finally broke his tense silence. 

“You want me to decide to accept or reject.”

He nodded curtly with a pleading in his eyes “Yes, Elain please… please for my sake, decide. I can’t bear the indecision any longer.” 

She took a moment, looking him over, studying him. His hair was like that of a fox coat, soft and shining molten in the speckled light that forced its way through the willow branches. So beautiful. “It’s a shame,” she mused softly.

His eyebrow arched in question. She smiled before answering, “To dirty such a beautiful place with a betrayer's blood.” She stood at the last word, grabbing his head and shoving  truth-teller through his throat up through his mouth. Her eyes didn’t shift from his as the blood and realization poured from his face. “I know why you have come.” she said pointedly. “I know what you planned. I saw you.. taking me to Him for your firebird, for my refusal of you. You are nothing but a weed” His eyes widened in shock before she tore the blade from him stabbing it in his neck once more, twisting with a ferocity, sawing the flesh and bone, until a snap, a tear, and a thud. Now all that she could see of him was his head cut from his body as she held it up in her hand, his still wide eyes staring in disbelief and pain back at her. Before she could turn to assess Azriels state or explain, Rhysand and Feyre had winnowed in front of her. Feyre’s eyes in shock, almost like the look still plastered on Lucien’s lifeless face. 

Rhysand's face however; held rage. It emanated from him almost palpable.  Azriel stepped in front of her, between the Highlord and her blood-soaked bodice.  His eyes held no shock, they were not angry either. He just knowingly held his hand out to her. She looked at her now murderous blood-stained hands, dropping the head with a thud and softly laying truth-teller back into his beautiful scared palm. “He was a weed…” she whispered looking to him for the knowing he’d always given her. He nodded, pulling her into a hug, wrapping his lengthy warm arms around her, kissing the top of her head like a secret comfort she’d been waiting for. 

She melted into the feeling letting it finally consume her anger. 

A huge thankyou to

siempreslytherin

on reddit for helping me proof this and just come up with more ideas to add to it.

and to everyone else who too one unhinged elain idea rolled with it and help me start the creating of this magnificent thing.

[darkest-fantasy]

Disgusting DM’s sent from an Elriel to a popular Gwynriel creator are circulating around the fandom. I was severely disturbed when I saw the contents and almost cried from how horrifying it was.

But the real issue today is that Elriels are fully calling this message fake. Saying the creator made her friend send the message? It is actually DISGUSTING that they choose to focus on that instead of the actual contents.

Tw below

How about focusing on the real issues here! Telling someone to die and should get graped is a literal threat. Saying Gwyn is “damaged goods” for getting sa’d and now cannot have intercourse is CONCERNING. Gwyn is not going to unalive herself because she can’t be with az?

I cannot believe there are people out there saying things like this about my favourite sjm character. I can’t believe a ship has caused people to act like this. I have never seen this kind of behaviour in the almost ten years I’ve been reading ACOTAR.

These people need to be held ACCOUNTABLE!

If you want to see the dm, it is on yaz.the.bookish instagram story. I also have it saved if you want me to send it to you because the 24 hours might be over.