#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. 

[potatoplace]

my tears ricochet

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

loml (part one)

Story Summary: Azriel meeting you, his mate, throws a wrench in all of his plans, nearly a decade in the making with Elain. He begins his mateship with you, still with Elain all the while telling you that you are the love of his life. But, not every good thing can last.

Warnings: Suicide (more graphic than first chapter imo), heavy angst, alcoholism, infidelity, sex

Words: ~6.2k

Author's Note: and here's the second part, now I have to warn you, the first one didn't make me cry at all. But this one? I was sobbing like Feyre and Az, typing through my tears. Thank you for all of the love you guys showed to loml, it means so much to me to see every comment and note. I hope you all enjoy the final part!

p.s. I almost named it Last Kiss. Taylor is just perfect for angst, I tell ya

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🩷💙

The wind was rushing through his hair, cooling his body, slightly calming him. But his heart was still racing, his mind panicked.

His mate. He had finally met his mate.

But Elain… they had just started discussing the possibility of having children. And nearly ten years together, ten years of love and comfort.

He’d known this was a possibility, he had just thought it would never happen. That the Mother had made a mistake in not mating him to Elain. But now, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t the love of his life, his sweet, perfect Elain, it was some random woman in the streets of Velaris. Beautiful, yes, but she didn’t hold a flame to Elain’s beauty. Her scent however… a refreshing blend of apples and autumn rain, so overpowering he could hardly smell the air rushing past him, even this far away from her.

He needed to tell Elain. He had to tell her, before he did anything stupid, like turning around and finding the female he had just abandoned in the streets.

They’d discussed what might happen if he ever found his mate, and the possibility of it was why Elain has yet to fully reject the bond with Lucien, though as far as Azriel was aware, the two only saw each other at holiday parties and the occasional family dinner that Lucien attended. They’d decided that if he did find his mate, he would come immediately to Elain and they would talk it through.

So, he flew straight to the townhouse, landing next to Elain where she was kneeling on the grass, tending to her flower garden. “‘Lain,” he started, the tension in his voice causing her to stand up and look at him instantly. “I… I found my mate,” he said, regretting that he even had to say the words.

Tears filled her eyes, and he put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “All I did was see her in the street, baby. I left right after and I’m here now.”

Still, she shook her head. “I cannot believe this Azriel. Now?! Now that we’ve decided to try for a family, that’s when you find your mate? This is ridiculous!” Elain vented, and it was truly one of the first times Azriel had seen her angry.

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I wish I would never have seen her, I only love you.”

“You don’t know that you wouldn’t love her,” Elain scoffed. “But you have a decision to make. Are you going to reject the bond.”

Azriel opened his mouth, not quite believing how bold Elain was being. “I don’t know. That’s not exactly a decision to make lightly, Elain. You know that.”

“Oh, really? This again? Just because I haven’t rejected Lucien doesn’t mean that you don’t have to make a decision, Azriel.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at her, shocked by her hypocrisy. “Then you have one to make as well, Elain. Lucien or I? Which will it be?” Elain opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it. “Exactly. It’s not as easy as you thought, is it?”

Elain sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. “Fine. You can get to know her, if you’d like. But the moment you want it to turn to something more, come find me again. Until then… let’s just continue as normal,” she suggested, pushing up on her tip-toes to give Azriel a kiss on the lips before scrunching her nose. “Ugh, I can smell her on you. Let’s go take a bath, hmm?” She led Azriel by the hand to her room, undressing him as she pushed him towards the bathroom.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

It was two weeks later, and Azriel had prepared himself enough mentally to seek out his mate. It didn’t take long, seeing as two of his shadows had followed her back to her home, reporting to him that she had spent the past fortnight crying herself to sleep and barely leaving the house except for her work.

He flew over to her house, an adorable one bedroom that had a nice porch on the front, and a stained glass door depicting the season of autumn, leaves changing color as they fall from a tree and landing in a pile at the bottom. The pale orange paint on the exterior was faded slightly, chipping away in places, but besides that the home looked well cared for.

He steeled himself, then walked towards that beautiful door, knocking carefully on its surface. It was time to get to know his mate.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

3 Months Later

Elain stared at him, obviously not believing what Azriel just told her as they stood in their shared bedroom.

“You want to be with her?”

Azriel sighed. Truly, he wanted both females to stay in his life, but that was impossibility. “Yes, Elain. I’ve… I’ve fallen for her, over the past few months.”

Elain hissed, her outrage making itself known. “A few months?!” She screeched at him. “You’re going to throw away a decade over a few months?!”

“I’m not… I’m not throwing it away, Elain, this is something I have to do. She’s my mate,” he sighed. He didn’t want to argue with her. “I don’t want you to leave my life, either. But the connection between us… it’s always there. I can feel her all the time, Elain, and I don’t want to do you a disservice by being unfaithful to you in my heart.”

Elain, who up until this point had been glaring at him, looked off into the distance, contemplating.

“So, don’t leave my life,” she stated plainly.

“I… what?” Azriel asked in disbelief.

“Stay in my life, stay with me, and you can have your little mate. Just as long as you know that you come home to me after missions, after anything important. I take precedence over her. And she won’t be welcome at any family gatherings. If they ask about her, say that she’s better suited as a friend.”

She said it all as if it was simple, as if it made sense. So Azriel believed her.

Because that way, he could have the female he’d loved for so long, and he could also have his mate.

It was truly the best of both worlds.

“Alright, Elain. That’s a fair enough deal. Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?” He asked, prowling towards her and grabbing her by the waist.

“Oh, Azzie, I promise I’ll be fine with it. Do I love that you might fuck another female? No, but as long as I can send you to her covered in my scent, I’ll be fine,” Elain purred, running a hand up his chest.

“Oh?” Azriel smirked down at her, taking her face in his hand. “And how will you do that?” He breathed in her ear, kissing her neck gently.

“I have a few ways. Come to the bed and I’ll show you, Azzie.”

Matching grins covered their faces as Azriel picked her up and tossed her gently on the bed.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell Y/N that he wanted to be serious.

Tonight, however… tonight he would spend worshipping Elain’s body like the goddess she is deserves.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

5 Years Later

Shit, Azriel thought to himself. Shit shit shit.

He was late. So, very late.

Elain had wanted him to spend the night together, but it was his and Y/N’s fifth anniversary the next morning.

So, he’d left in the middle of the night after his mate’s breathing had evened out, flying off in the direction of the town house. He landed in front of a simpering Elain, obviously pleased with how the night was playing out.

They had spent the night wrapped in each other, falling asleep under the sheets together as the new day dawned upon them.

Azriel had, of course, planned ahead for the possibility of sleeping in a bit too long to return home before his mate awoken, a bouquet of roses, sapphire blue for him and a pale yellow for his sweet, sunshiney mate, and love note on the nightstand. He’d also left out a coffee and book he’d spent an agonizing amount of time convincing his mate’s favorite author to give him in advance of the commercial release on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t thought that he’d be so late though, the sun having risen nearly to the halfway point in the sky.

He only hoped his mate wouldn’t scent Elain’s arousal, still mixed heavily with his scent. She had never said anything in the past, and he believed she wouldn’t now.

With the speed he was flying towards her house, most of it should be whisked off of him by the time he reached her.

Once he landed, he made sure to take a moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open, greeted by his mate’s lovely scent, coming from the window seat to the right of the door.

You ran to him, and he greeted you with his arms first, the weight of you so perfect in his arms, as though the two of you were carved out of the same flesh, finally put back together for the moment.

The day was perfect, ending with the two of you snuggled together in bed.

The dagger you had gifted him was perfect, ornate enough to be worn on his belt during ceremonies, and the curved blade had fascinated him at first. He realized that you had meant it more as a way to keep you with him on his missions, rather than to do much killing. Though, it would make some wicked stab wounds, possibly helpful in interrogations. However, he didn’t think he could bear using something so precious as a gift from you during the… messier parts of his occupation.

Nonetheless, it was a perfect, thoughtful gift, and he loved it, loved you so deeply.

He sighed.

It was nights like these when his conscious kicked in, reminding him of the traitorous double life he was living. Sure, Elain was well aware of the situation, maybe not of the depth of his emotions towards you, but that wasn’t something she needed to know.

You, however… you were completely in the dark, unaware that the best friend he went on about is really his life partner of a decade and a half.

He felt so guilty, but he didn’t know how to stop, with either one of you. Elain, they had so much history and you, well, you are his mate, the person the Mother had made just for him.

He breathed in your scent, his mind relaxing as he did so. Azriel reminded himself that he still had six years left before he needed to make a true decision between the two perfect females.

Six years didn’t feel like near enough time, it felt almost cruel that he had to limit himself to a decade until he made a decision about the mating bond. He supposed Elain didn’t know that detail, either.

And now that you wanted to meet his family… well. That decision may end up coming sooner rather than later.

It all depended on how he swung it.

He knew that Elain would be difficult to convince, but he believed he would be able to. His plan was to inform the family to not make any comments about his and Elain’s relationship, and tell them that you knew about them but are still very sensitive to the subject, preferring to avoid it overall. They already knew that the you and Azriel are “friends,” Azriel having been unable to keep you a complete secret from his nosy family.

Azriel had to make it happen, or you would know something is off.

He was lucky, all things considered, that you had waited five years to ask to meet his family.

The next morning after a nice lie-in with you, he took off for the townhouse, ready to rip the gauze off. He approached Elain, in the gardens as she normally was this time of day, working on the garden before the heat climbed up too high.

“Elain, can we talk in our room?” He asked her, relieved when she followed him without question.

“What is it?” She questioned, knowing he was here with a purpose.

“Y/N wants to meet the family.”

Elain immediately started to shake her head, infuriated by the idea. “No. No, Azriel! We agreed that she would not enter our lives before you started this, that won’t change now.”

“Baby, it would just be one dinner, I will tell her not to show any affection towards me, and her curiosity will be satisfied, I promise.”

Elain thought about it for a moment, her face still pinched in anger, before it relaxed in resignation. “If this dinner is to happen, you will fuck me in this very room while she sits in the living room. If not, my answer is no, Azriel.”

Azriel considered it, the nodded, knowing it was his only way forward. And, he couldn’t deny that the thought of fucking Elain with you in the next room excited him, the riskiness of it so tempting.

“Then, inform the rest of the family. Tell them whatever you need to to keep your silly little relationship with your mate a secret. I will not be embarrassed by this, Azriel,” Elain warned, a danger in her eyes.

“Thank you, Elain.” He moved in towards her, and whispered lowly in her ear, “The sex we will have in here on that night will rival every other time we’ve been together, baby.” A shiver ran down Elain’s spine, and she wrapped her arms around him.

“It better, Azzie. Otherwise I just might crush her heart myself,” She said in a sweet tone, but Azriel took it as the threat it was.

Still, as long as everything went to plan, he will keep his two females as his, for years to come.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

The dinner went perfectly, Y/N feeling insecure, while it pained him, truly worked out for the better. The less comfortable that first meeting had felt, the less likely she was to insist on attending another family dinner.

Over the next few months, he could tell you were preparing something, most likely some kind of surprise for his birthday. Every year, you outdid yourself. When he was in town- or rather, not with Elain- you would wake him up with his favorite pastries from his favorite café, or his favorite dish from Kalia’s, a wonderful little breakfast restaurant located along the Sidra. And every year, you gave him a different custom made item, from the spider silk gloves that were fire and tear proof to the fortified, comfortable boots that he wore to this day.

During that time as well, Elain was becoming bolder with her requests of his time, drawing him away most nights after you fell asleep, only to return a few hours later, slipping back into your bed with jasmine and honey coating his senses.

That didn’t matter though, not when he was more enamored with you than ever. You were so kind, so focused on his happiness, he hardly deserved the honor of being your mate. The guilt of the situation had been weighing on him heavily, especially when he had felt you measuring his ring finger while you believed him to be dead asleep.

He was nearly ready to cut things off with Elain, her attitude as of late was bitter and angry, and while he avoided bringing you up around her, every time he did she said something condescending about you. The only problem was their history with each other, so many years that they had been together, and realized that he would be throwing it away, there was no way that Elain would ever be fine only being his friend, and seeing you near her family. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Elain attempted to take your life, her hatred of you ran that deeply.

He’d realized things were getting to dangerous territory when you had come back to your house, gushing to Azriel about how you and Elain might be becoming friends, and how you could see why Azriel liked her so much, she’s just so nice.

It was the day before his birthday now, and he had just returned to your home when you burst through the doors, bags filling your arms.

“Azriel!” You exclaimed, quickly walking over to the counter to deposit the bags, then made your way to your mate. You leaned up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “Listen, I know this will sound a little weird, but I’d like you to stay at your spare room in the townhouse tonight, if you’re willing. I want to set up a little surprise for you here,” you tell him, a smile gracing your face, and a matching expression lit up his face. “I’ll come get you in the morning, around 9 if that sounds reasonable to you?”

“Of course, babydoll,” he replied, claiming your mouth again in kiss more heated than the last. “Do I have to leave at this very moment?”

You hummed, your body relaxing against him as he kissed down your neck. “No, not yet, mate. You can stick around for a while.”

“Hmm, so I can take my sweet, thoughtful mate into our bedroom and devour her like the goddess she is?” He asked, already lifting you by your ass, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips.

“I’d love that, Az,” you say, peppering kisses along his jawline as he carried you to the bed.

He left a few hours later, walking back to the townhouse at a slow pace, reminiscing on the feeling of your skin and soft sighs, how much he was looking forward to whatever you’re planning for tomorrow.

He entered the townhouse a few minutes later, breezing into his room that he shares with Elain. She was inside, already naked on the bed and touching herself.

“Oh, Azzie, I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, pouncing towards him the moment the door snicked shut behind him. Once she reached him, though, she wrinkled her nose. “Let’s go get you in the bath, Azzie, I don’t want to kiss you while you smell so gross.” Elain pushed him towards the bath, where they spent a good hour basking in each other’s presence before making their way to the bed. They remained there until dinner, getting a quick meal from the kitchen before returning to the haven.

The night passed quickly, and Elain woke him by sucking his cock to life, the climbing on top of him. She rode him at a slow, torturous pace for a few minutes, before he tired her teasing and flipped her onto her back, continuing their activities, even as the door to their room opened wide, a gasp sounding from the doorway, and Elain’s arms wrapped tighter around his neck, legs wrapping around his hips, pressing his lower half tighter against her.

The scent hit him- autumnal rain and sweet apples- and his blood ran cold. He wanted to run, wanted to explain to you, but the grip of Elain’s heavenly cunt was too much, and he finished inside of her, pulling out as soon as he was able to.

His eyes were wide, he could barely process the situation, he tried to sit up and look at the doorway, but Elain’s grip around his neck was tighter than he expected. She was grinning from ear to ear, looking positively pleased with herself.

“Elain, I need to go talk to her,” he stated frantically, still attempting to pull away from her gently. He could hear her yelling outside, Feyre’s soft voice following it.

“No, you don’t Azriel. She just saw you cheating on her, she’ll want nothing to do with you now,” Elain declared proudly.

Azriel furrowed his brow at her, a sinking feeling in his gut, and he looked at the clock- only 8 in the morning. “Did you know she was going to show up this early?” He questioned, hoping the answer was no. If it was yes…

“Of course, it was my idea to have you stay here last night.” Her voice held no remorse, and Azriel pried her hands from his neck and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed.

He placed his head in his hands, panic overtaking his mind.

His mate… his sweet, kind, caring, attentive mate… had just seen him fucking Elain, her supposed friend. Fuck. This is bad.

He got up, throwing on a pair of leathers as quickly as he could, before Elain’s hand caught his.

“You’re seriously going after her? What the fuck is wrong with you, Azriel?!” She yelled at him, before Feyre’s voice cut through.

“What in the hells is wrong with you, Azriel?! You’re not only cheating on Elain, but Y/N didn’t even know the two of you were together?! How could you do that to your mate?!”

Elain’s anger was one thing, more unsettling than anything else, but Feyre’s? Feyre’s rage was terrifying, and Azriel had the common sense to cower as night coalesced around her.

It was then that he noticed his shadows had left him, and he could still hear them screaming about Y/N from wherever they had ran to.

“Feyre, I know how bad it seems, but I never meant for her to get hurt. And Elain knew about my relationship with her, I wouldn’t have gone ahead with it without her approval,” he said, trying to get the truth out before Feyre eviscerated him.

Elain scoffed, grabbing her nightgown from the floor next to their bed.

Azriel turned to cock a brow at her, daring her to voice whatever was rattling around in her head.

“You should have cut her sorry ass off years ago, Azzie. She’s not worthy of you, she never has been, and she never will be,” Elain spat at him, just as his gut fell through the floor and to the core of the earth.

The bond- the precious, delicate string tying you to him- severed in a single moment.

He dropped to his knees, a wail leaving his body of its own accord, the grief striking him in every nerve ending of his body as your presence left him, as he was left with a gaping hole in his soul that you used to occupy.

“Azriel?” Feyre called frantically, shaking him by the shoulders, but he could do nothing more than to loose gut wrenching cries of pain at the loss of his mate.

Rhys appeared a moment later, diving into his mind with a gentleness he did not deserve.

“Y/N…” he sighed, a tear rolling down his face. “She’s died.”

“Died?!” Feyre exclaimed. “She was just in the garden fifteen minutes ago, how could she have-?” She cut herself off, realizing exactly what happened. “Rhys, get her address from him.”

He did as she said, and she bolted away, leaving Rhys, Elain, and Azriel in the room.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

Feyre

She sprinted through the streets, making her way to the area that Rhys said your house was located in. It was orange, with a stained glass door according to Azriel’s memories.

Feyre still couldn’t believe what he had done, how he had betrayed his mate.

You was awkward at times, yes, and a little shy, but you were so sweet and it was obvious to Feyre how much you cared for Azriel- obviously not the way you cared for him, but the amount was there, always shining through your actions.

Once Feyre arrived at your house, she stopped to stare at it for a moment. The light orange and pretty stained glass window suited you, calming in nature and gave off a similar presence’s to the autumnal scent you gave off. She prepared herself as she approached the door, taking a few deep breaths before turning the knob.

Feyre still wasn’t prepared for the sight before her.

You were laying in a pool of blood- your blood- and covered in Azriel’s shadows. She rushed forward, and the shadows moved away from your neck, revealing the large gash there. A dagger was in your hands, and Feyre sobbed, pawing at your neck in an attempt to make the bleeding stop somehow, even as she could hear no heartbeat, no breathing coming from your chest.

The wound was hardly seeping anything as it was, but Feyre couldn’t believe it. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to leave so alone, so in pain.

Her tears fell on your body, and after a few moments she pulled your head into her lap, and recited the prayer she had learned all that time ago, back in Spring.

“Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates. May you smell that immortal land of milk and honey,” she finished. She whispered a final, added phrase. “May your next life be kinder to you, Y/N.”

Feyre stood, reaching out to Rhys through her mind.

“How is Az?”

Rhys sighed. “He’s not doing well, we haven’t been able to move him or get him to do anything cry cry,” he admitted, worrying in his tone. “How’s… how is Y/N?”

“She’s gone, Rhys. She took her own life,” Feyre cried through the bond. “Can you or Cassian come and help me move her to Madja’s office? We should… we should have her prepared for a funeral as soon as we can.”

“Of course, darling, I’ll send Cassian to help you. I’d like to be with Az in case he needs to be knocked out for his own good.”

Cassian arrived a few agonizing minutes later, and after stumbling into the house, stopped and gasped in horror. “Y/N!” He cried, moving quickly towards where Feyre was stood next to your cooling body.

“I know, Cassian. It’s awful, she didn’t deserve any of this,” Feyre said sadly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We need to move her, though.”

Cassian nodded and stooped over, collecting your limp body in his arms. The shadows were still gathered around your body, hiding as much of you from view as possible. They shifted just right, though, and Feyre caught sight of the knife belt resting upon your hips, tightened so much that she knew the belt was meant as a gift, having seen the dropped bags outside of Azriel’s door when she went to confront him.

She carefully pulled the belt of off you, noticing that the dagger you had used… matched the ones still secured in the belt.

You had used the gift you most likely intended for Azriel, to end your life. That hurt Feyre’s heart even more.

The two of them walked somberly towards Madja’s office, stares lingering on them and the body covered in shadows and held in Cassian’s arms.

They arrived in a few minutes, and Cassian gently set your body down on a stretcher Madja’s had set up in the back, the shadows still clinging relentlessly to your body, refusing to leave you even in death. Madja’s soft smile greets the both of them when they turn around.

“Rhys told me what happened, he said to prepare the body as soon as possible, is that correct?”

Feyre nodded in agreement, “Yes, just let us know when she is ready for the funeral, please, Madja.

“Of course Feyre. I’ll contact you once it’s done.”

With that, the two left the clinic, heading back toward your home to clean it up as much as they could.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

Azriel

His world was shattered. He watched as your coffin was lowered into the ground only two days after his birthday, the sky bright and sunny, just how you always loved it. But Azriel could barely stand in its rays, so overtaken with grief and rage at himself.

He had found the box among the remains of the presents you dropped at his door when you saw him fucking- he couldn’t even bear to think her name anymore.

The two rings, so perfectly Azriel that it made him sob harder than before.

You had always known exactly how to design something to scream his name, always known what he would prefer to have as a gift.

Azriel had wanted to place the ring made for your fingers on you before you were buried, but he couldn’t bear to sully your… your corpse with his hands.

He also didn’t deserve to have a ring matching one that you wear in your grave, he had betrayed you so thoroughly. So he kept the both of them.

Time passed so slowly now.

It was like the world had stopped moving once you passed, the broken tether to your soul holding him in place, not allowing him to move past the moment of your death.

He left the rings in his nightstand, pulling the box out when the pain became too much to bear. He had purchased your home, finally moving all of his things in, like he should have while you were alive.

Even though your life had ended here, he felt closest to you inside the four walls where your relationship had blossomed, bringing you out of your shy, anxious, and adorable little shell.

Azriel barely left the house anymore, only leaving when his family forced him, or the hunger in his stomach became unbearable enough that he ventured out to your favorite restaurant and ordered your favorite dish, just one more way to get any semblance of closeness to you again.

The first six months since your passing were hell. Absolute hell.

The broken string within him chafed with every breath, only subsiding when he drowned himself in vodka enough that he couldn’t see straight, passing out into an oblivion where you still existed, where his heart still beat your name happily, not in the overwhelming loss that had made it lose its rhythm.

His family had dragged him out tonight into their townhome, insisting that they hadn’t seen him in so long and they needed to get together.

He was feeling an extra pain, today. It was the anniversary of the beginning of your mateship. It would have been the sixth, if you were still here.

So, he strung the two rings on a silver chain, looping it over his head and wearing it over the top of his jacket. With them on, he felt like your presence was with him. One of the few remaining things he owned of you.

Feyre had given him the knife belt a month after your funeral, and he had promptly shoved it into the lowest drawer of the dresser. He knew, he just knew that one of those knives had been the end of you-

But that wasn’t true.

He was the end of you.

Azriel sighed. That train of thought wouldn’t make getting through this night easier. One thing might, however.

He stood up from the couch he was seated on and made his way over to the drink cart, pouring a generous amount of vodka into a crystal glass.

You had commented on the glasses your second dinner here, admiring the way they caught the light.

Tears burned at his eyes, and he downed half of the glass in one gulp, the burn distracting him enough that he didn’t jump when Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, brother. Will you be coming to the training ring again soon?” He asked, his tone gentle.

“We’ll see, Cassian,” Azriel answered, the one that he had given Cassian the past four times he had dared to ask the Shadowsinger.

“Okay, hopefully sometime soon. Or we could go out for a meal, just the two of us, hm? Just like the old days when we were stuck here, it could be fun,” Cassian suggested, and Azriel nodded in agreement just to get him to stop asking.

Cassian walked away, and Azriel could see him making a pointed expression at Feyre, probably urging her to come talk to him. He downed the rest of his drink, and poured another of the same amount.

By the time he had sat back down on the couch, Feyre was joining him.

She didn’t say anything, just sat with him as he sipped on his drink, relishing in the burn it carved through him.

They sat like that for a few minutes before Azriel’s left hand crept out, grasping Feyre’s right. The tears that had burned his eyes for six months, six long months of drinking himself to sleep as the tear in his soul grew, consuming him whole, had begun to fall, carving lines into his skin. Feyre’s hand squeezed his, and when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she thankfully had her eyes turned away from him, giving him the privacy he needed.

A minute or an hour could have passed before Azriel stood abruptly, making for the front door. He burst through it, tears still streaming down his face as he walked home as quickly as he could, the alcohol doing more to him now that he had lost weight from so many skipped meals. He could hear footsteps behind him, and if he dared enough it bet on anything anymore, he would say it’s Feyre.

She had told him at the funeral how guilty she felt for not realizing that Y/N was a danger to herself, but Azriel had brushed her off, telling her it was no one’s fault but his own.

Azriel knew she still carried it, though.

“I don’t need a minder, Feyre,” he drawled, slowing his pace so she could catch up from where she had been following him at a distance.

“From my eyes, you do Az.”

Her concerned tone made him sigh, the tears flowing even more freely now. He didn’t want to worry anyone, he simply wanted to waste away into nothing.

“I will be fine, Feyre, I promise,” he reassured her once she was at his side, though he didn’t fully believe it himself. “Just go home, go enjoy the dinner everyone has been slaving over for hours, Feyre.”

It was Feyre’s turn to sigh. “Do you promise you’ll eat something tonight?”

Azriel nodded his head.

Another sigh. “I suppose I’ll head back, then. Be safe please, Azriel. We love you. I love you. Remember that, okay?”

Azriel nodding again, swallowing a sob until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. He finally reached your house, opening the beautiful door that you loved so much.

He loved that you’d had it custom made, wanting something to honor your Autumn heritage, so far from home. He closed it, running a hand along its surface.

You had loved everything fiercely, him included, even if he didn’t deserve it in any way.

You had loved your mystery books, your coffee, trying out new blends of tea you had made from herbs you’d grown in your small garden.

Then there were the things about him that you loved. His eyes, his hair. You always loved both of those. His hands… you had never shied away from them, in fact you had pulled them towards you, nuzzling your face into them whenever he was feeling insecure about them. You kissed every inch of them so often, Azriel had begun to love the scars, love the way you were able to make them beautiful.

Now though… he couldn’t think of them as anything but the hands that had sullied you, touching you after touching that other female.

Azriel made his way to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of vodka and your favorite, sapphire blue mug. He poured the liquid until the mug was nearly overflowing, and knocked back as much of it as he could managed in one go, a few drops trailing down his chin.

He regretted so many things in his life, but the way he had hurt you was the one he wished he could take back, at least trade his life for yours. You deserved to live, with your soft heart and open mind. Not him, with his unfaithfulness and betrayal of the worst degree.

His mate.

His mate!!!

He could hardly believe that six months had passed already, six months since that dreadful day.

Six months since your last kiss.

He could almost picture you now, as he walked into your bedroom. It had been on your bed, you were still naked from the earlier activities the two of you had indulged in. Azriel had just gotten his shirt on, and you made an adorable kissy noise, puckering your lips dramatically to draw him back to you. He hadn’t been able to resist, leaning back down and capturing your lips softly with his, tilting your chin up towards him gently with two fingers. It had been soft, sweet, all that he ever needed for the rest of his life.

But it was the last one. The last one, and he hadn’t even known it at the time.

And it was all. His. Fault.

Azriel sank down onto the bed, taking another large gulp of his drink. It was really kicking in now, he felt almost like he could sleep. Draining the rest of the cup, he placed it on the nightstand and laid down on his side of the bed. If he closed his eyes, he could almost trick himself into thinking you were there, sleeping beside him, almost hear your breathing and heart’s rhythm next to him.

He drifted off while clutching the pair of rings still around his neck, his heart still beating that broken, dying music that still sang your name.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx

[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.

[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.

[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

[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

[rosenecklaces]

The ringsssss the blushs the lip biteeeeeeeee (going crazy going insane)

So excited about this!!! @karomdr-blog and I commissioned this together 🥰 I’m so grateful for you and your friendship, love. 💜

“Hold tight. And don’t make a sound.”

Beautiful artwork done by Sara Parreño

[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 🤗

[offtorivendell]

On Elain, Gwyn and their apparent romantic worthiness.

TW: mentions of death, violent or sexual assault, infertility and pregnancy/childbirth related trauma. Please do not proceed if these topics bother you.

Disclaimer: please, please engage with this post with kindness. I promise I am not writing it to stir the pot, but because I - and many others - are fed up with seeing hurtful and harmful rhetoric spewed by the fandom, yet having no back up when dealing with it. Word vomit incoming, I'm sorry. This has been bothering me for a while.

My love to everyone who has been hurt by things they've read in this fandom. 💜

It's 2024 and I cannot believe we are still seeing posts, almost daily, about both of these women; all giving reasons why they cannot possibly be with Azriel. And I don't mean the debatable but utterly harmless discussions about Elain not looking good in black or Gwyn blabbing to Merrill when asked not to. Whatever, go nuts. I mean the truly horrific takes based around things these two women have had no control.

Now, my post history makes it very obvious where I stand in terms of ships, and yes, I'm well aware I've spoken before about the inherent power imbalance - that I perceive - which would exist if Azriel ever became involved with any of the priestesses in the women's shelter he is charged with protecting (to be clear, that's not me suggesting that Gwyn and her story isn't powerful, or powerful representation to those who see themselves in her, nor is it personal to Gwyn, or indicative of any of the sheltered priestesses and their ability to heal; it's purely a function of Azriel's position of authority over their sanctuary). I want to reiterate that my stating my feelings about this was never done with the intent to shame people who do ship them; we all ship who we like, and real world ethics should rarely come into it.

That being said, the following, in my opinion, is one of those times.

Firstly, I just want to say that lived experience informs how we interpret fiction, so please let me clarify something: the people who have said that they don't think Gwyn is ready for a relationship yet, and that NSFW fan art of her with anyone makes them uncomfortable, are not in any way in the wrong. They're simply the other side of the coin to those who find it empowering, and both are valid responses, often related to personal trauma. The problem lies with those very few who say that Gwyn could never have a romantic relationship, and call those who talk and/or post about it "gross." Some have called her "damaged goods." This is absolutely wrong and whoever is doing it needs to stop.

The entire fandom, even those who find romantic or NSFW content involving Gwyn uncomfortable to consume, frequently acknowledges that her trauma doesn't define her, and of course she should be able to enjoy love whenever she feels ready for it. Those who say otherwise are readily condemned from all corners. I've seen it happen and called the people out myself, as have many other Elriel shippers when necessary. However, Elriels are still very regularly and very publicly blamed for the actions of a few (some of whom I truly believe are burner accounts wanting to cause chaos, with their Elriel themed usernames and no post history), despite our largely collective action to call them out when we see it.

Could we do better? Absolutely, but so can you!

Because, on the other hand, I've noticed that, whenever I or others have tried to explain why the pliable bones "theory" - which attempts to reason that Elain could never be endgame with Azriel, as she and any baby would die during the course of pregnancy or childbirth - is equally as harmful, we are met with people publicly and wholeheartedly refusing to understand why (especially recently). Some horrific comments have been made to my friends, not to mention all of those I see well after the fact, which are never widely condemned by any but us. People will argue back that we're wrong, and have even suggested we're weaponising infertility! On Mothers' Day, of all the fucking painful days to say that.

Some of the push back I've seen recently includes:

"Nobody has said Elain is infertile."

No, nobody has, and that's not what we're saying or have ever said. We know you don't think this, as the Elucien fandom loves to write and draw Elain and Lucien's hypothetical future children (which is super understandable, as this is a romantasy fandom after all - no shame, enjoy your warm fuzzies).

What we are saying is that, if it's true that Elain's anatomy wasn't changed as Feyre and Nesta's was - and to be clear I cannot stand that entire plot, I wish SJM had chosen literally any other reason why Feyre's pregnancy was dangerous, as it is simultaneously degrading and doesn't fit with her previously established lore - then Elain and Azriel, together^, would be functionally infertile. Yet it's only ever framed as Elain's body not being able to work with Azriel's, never the other way around.*

^Why didn't the bat boys have to sacrifice their wings to keep their wives/mates safe? Why did the women have to change their anatomy? Because it would make it harder for them to be all powerful? Well Nesta sacrificed her powers! Why not just have Feyre be cursed by an enemy or something, and Nesta found a way to use the Dread Trove to save them all. Ugh. I love SJM's books, but this was such a miss.

*HOSAB/HOFAS SPOILER: funnily enough, this was never said about Ruhn and his eventual mate, even though he actually did think he may be unable to father children, thanks to the Oracle's prophecy. People shipped the hell out of him and a couple of different women throughout the CC series, despite the chance he could never get them pregnant.

"People haven't called Elain damaged goods, so it's not the same. We're allowed to not like her."

My faerie porn* lover in christ, what the fuck do you think the pliable bones "theory" is actually doing? It is suggesting that Elain's hypothetical inability to survive having children with Azriel, and for those children to also survive childbirth, is impaired. Ergo, she's damaged.

We don't care if you don't like Elain, we're allowed to have different preferences in characters and ships. That has never been the problem.

*I use this term with affection as a great lover of the genre.

But "damaged" vs a functionally "impaired" uterus? It's the same damn thing, and sorry, it's misogynistic af, not to mention ableist and homophobic at a minimum. In the same breath you are also reducing your favourite to her apparently functional uterus (even though the pliable bones argument is medically inaccurate, by the way - this is really damning of the state of health education across so many countries).

"Hahaha/lol."

Yes, I have seen people laugh and treat this as a joke. As recently as tonight, in fact. It's disgusting.

Regardless of your lived experiences and shipping preferences, both of these takes about Elain and Gwyn are equally degrading and horrific and need to stop, but if you're only calling out the comments that hurt you/your friends/your ship and not the others, then you should maybe attempt some basic self reflection and analyse those double standards you're carrying.

This entire fandom needs to do better. I'll say again, for the umpteenth time, to any of my fellow Elriels that if you think mocking Gwyn's past is funny, then you're not mature enough to read an adult series. But this works both ways, and if you think mocking infertility is funny/use it as a win, then you're just as immature. I would really and truly appreciate it if we were not left alone to argue over and over again why discriminating against someone who couldn't "have a man's children" is wrong, and why many, many people in this adult fandom - that is largely comprised of women! - might find such a theory, and the resulting discourse, incredibly upsetting.

Infertility hurts; not having a kid when you want one can be viscerally painful. Besides that, I know very few people who have given birth who don't carry around some sort of emotional or physical trauma from doing so. Treating a character's hypothetical infertility with one man as a joke is gross.

Please don't call Gwyn "damaged goods" or suggest that Azriel would choose somebody else over Elain because she couldn't have his kids.

They are the same thing.

It's not hard to be kind. Pain is not a competition.

We should all do better, and take care of each other.

[slytherhys]

Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes

Prompt: New Beginnings (week one) @elriel-month

A/N: HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH! 🌹🦇 I had so much fun writing this silly little AU and I hope you all enjoy it too!

You can also read this story on AO3!

If there was one thing everyone knew about Elain Archeron it was that she didn’t like being single. Her friends knew it, her sisters knew it, her therapist knew it – even her ex-boyfriend, who wasn’t the most perceptive person Elain knew, had callously pointed it out right before Elain kicked him out of her house. Truth be told, she had a serious case of abandonment issues with a side of middle-child syndrome and – because those weren’t enough – a deep fear that she’d never be loved the way she very much wanted to be loved. The fact most men she met were a disappointment was just the cherry on top of a very emotionally damaging cake.

Which explained why she had accepted to go on a date, at her sister’s insistence, with a man she had never met or seen before in her life.

At first glance, it had seemed like a great idea. Feyre clearly had great taste in men (read: Rhysand), her friends were some of the most interesting people Elain had ever met and the alternative had been staying at home watching crappy romcoms, eating salt & vinegar chips and wondering if maybe installing a new dating app would finally lead to her meeting the man of her dreams (even though it never did). Looking back, maybe even a night of getting texts from strange men who were entirely too comfortable asking about her sex life did seem like the better choice. Because Elain Archeron had officially been stood up – which, considering the dress she was wearing, was a damn shame.

Elain sighed again, earning herself a look from the bartender that definitely felt a little bit exasperated. She couldn’t even blame him considering she’d been nursing the same drink for the past 45 minutes (a martini because it sounded fancy) and she probably looked as dejected as she felt, which probably didn’t go well with the overall Saturday night vibes he definitely preferred.

Smiling weakly, Elain turned to stare at the door for a few seconds longer, wondering if instead of giving up and going home, she should just stay, have a drink in a too-dark bar where no one could see how hot she looked in her very expensive dress, under the hostile gaze of an entirely too attractive bartender. Because she was 25 and she was single and if she spent another night wallowing in self-pity, she would probably dye her hair a ridiculous colour in the name of adventure. And that couldn’t happen – no matter how many times she tried to bleach her hair it never looked any good.

And she was absolutely not staying for – Elain checked her phone – Lucien Vanserra and his stupid red hair and his stupid “nice manners”. The only reason she wasn’t calling her sister to complain about the audacity of it all was because it was past 9pm and Feyre and Rhys were most likely enjoying the only time of the day their son actually slept.

All in all, Elain’s night was pretty fucking miserable – and she couldn’t even drink her pain away since the martini alone had cost a ridiculous amount of money and Elain was supposed to be saving money in the name of being a responsible adult.

“Can I get you another drink?” A low, gravelly voice sounded from behind the bar and Elain startled as she looked up. Hazel eyes stared her down, darting between her and her untouched drink. If the bartender had been attractive from afar, Elain could barely think with him standing so close. A strong nose, high cheekbones and a lush mouth that twitched under her perusal. His dark hair was unruly, as if he had run his hands through it in the past five minutes, but somehow, he made it look hot. Elain blinked once, twice before her brain finally caught up, making her cheeks heat under his gaze.

“Uh,” was her eloquent reply. “No.” She said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching again as he eyed her martini. Elain shifted in her seat. “Is there something wrong with the drink I made you?” He asked teasingly and Elain flinched. It probably wasn’t good for his ego that she hadn’t touched it yet, was it?

Elain sighed, trying not to buckle under the embarrassment of being called out. “I don’t like martinis.” She confessed, unable to look the man in the eye. She probably seemed like an idiot, looking completely out of place in her stupid dress and glancing longingly at the door waiting for a stupid ginger man. Mother, she didn’t even like gingers. What the fuck had she been thinking?

The bartender laughed – well, he huffed but it sent a sparkle of heat down her spine, so it might as well had been a full-on laugh. “Why didn’t you order something else, then?”

Now it was her time to chuckle. Bitterly though because it was embarrassing how hard she had tried for a man that hadn’t even bothered to show up. “I wanted to look sophisticated.” She shrugged as if it didn’t really bother her that her cheeks were aflame and that the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She couldn’t even blame him – she probably had. “For my date.” She clarified at his confused face, as if that made it better.

The bartender frowned, eyeing her where she sat, and Elain felt heat lick up her body at his slow perusal. Even if she did feel like shit, it was a small victory that her boobs looked amazing – and that, apparently, the bartender thought so too.

“Who the fuck stood you up?” His midnight voice sent shivers down her spine, the incredulity in his question sending a jolt of satisfaction down her stomach.

Elain stood a little straighter, feeling encouraged in her own disbelief. “Can you believe it?” She asked, her voice sounding a bit shrill. If the bartender smiled at her outburst, Elain didn’t notice.  “And now I’m sitting here alone at this stupid bar waiting for a date I didn’t even want, drinking something I don’t even like��”

“You could’ve ordered something else.” The bartender muttered.

Elain, however, was too focused on her own tirade to be silenced. “And it’s too dark in this room for people to even notice my dress and I spent so much fucking money on it.” Elain shook her head, feeling ridiculous. “I really shouldn’t have spent that much money on a dress.” She confessed in a sigh, looking up and blushing as she noticed the amusement written on the bartender’s face. He raised an eyebrow, and it was absurd the way her body reacted to that small movement. Feeling chagrined, Elain smiled weakly. “Hi, I’m Elain.”

“Azriel,” his lips twitched. “Owner of the Stupid Bar.”

Of course he was. Elain groaned, dropping her head into her hands in a rather melodramatic fashion. “I’m so sorry.” She said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m usually much nicer than this.”

Azriel chuckled, tilting his head as he eyed her. “You look pretty fucking nice from where I’m standing.” He said, and Elain’s brain nearly short-circuited at the oh so casual way he said it. However, before she could answer he was leaning down, strong arms folding across the bar, hazel eyes set on her. “What do you really want to drink?”

Elain smiled sheepishly, pushing her martini away. “I’m not a big drinker.” She said, loving the challenge in his eyes as he waited for her answer. As if he wanted to figure her out. The thought of it shouldn’t have pleased her nearly as much as it did. “But I like sweet things.”

Azriel squinted his eyes ever so slightly, closely watching her expression. Elain wasn’t sure what he found, but her heart tripped inside her chest when he started to smirk.  “I’m not sure you do, Elain.” He mumbled, head tilting as his eyes trailed down her body again. No one had ever made her name sound so decadent. “Want to make this more interesting?”

Her entire body went hot and cold at the suggestion.  How was it that this man had already turned her entire night around when she had only known his name for five minutes? Elain bit her lip before leaning closer, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make you a cocktail and if you don’t like it, I’ll give you whatever drink you want on the house.”

Elain raised her brows, embarrassingly charmed by everything this man said. “And if I do like it?”

As if he knew that question was coming, Azriel smirked, bending down until his face was close enough to hers that she could feel his breath warm against her lips. Elain felt her breath catch, her heart stutter inside her chest. “If you like it you’ll go on a date with me.”

Elain blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Why was this bar so fucking warm, all of the sudden? She looked around, aware that she had been so caught up in Azriel she had notice little else. When had the bar gotten so crowded? Elain would’ve felt claustrophobic if not for the man taking up all her attention. “Don’t you have to work?” She asked dumbly, painfully aware of the crowd behind her and of how silly she sounded.

Still, Azriel smiled softly. “Slow night.” He said, refusing to take his eyes off of her. She chuckled, feeling a bit frantic as she watched Azriel watch her back, a daring look in his hazel eyes.

“You want to go on a date with me?” She asked, just to be sure.

“Tonight, preferably.” Azriel said, throwing a cup into the air with an ease that spoke of years of experience.

Elain choked, laughing in disbelief. “Tonight?”

He looked up, all pure charm and wicked smiles. “That dress looks too fucking good on you for you to go home alone.”

Elain couldn’t help but giggle. “You sound very cocky.” Never mind that her entire body was heating up with his every word.

“Yes or no, Elain?”

She bit her lip, unsure. Wasn’t it crass of her to go on a date with another man only hours after being stood up? Elain wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was in this situation, but she couldn’t exactly say no when everything in her was screaming at her to say yes, go. Truth be told, any thoughts of gingers and missed chances had been long gone. Everything seemed to start and end in the way Azriel, the bartender, was staring at her in the dim-lighted bar. And like Feyre always said, sometimes you needed to take hold of your own destiny.

“Yes.” She said, and Elain was sure she had never sounded so certain in her life. Maybe tomorrow she’d regretted and maybe in 10 years she would look back and think fondly of the one night she decided to be a bit brave and trust the rugged bartender who looked at her with wicked promises in his hazel eyes. Whatever outcome it all had, Elain felt absolutely no regret as she watched Azriel smile, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as she watched him pour drink after drink into a steel jigger, pouring liquids into a shaker as if this was just another drink, she knew that no matter the drink he made, Elain would be leaving the bar with him. Because sometimes things just felt right, and sometimes a failed date meant more than being left stranded in an unknown bar. And maybe to Azriel this was just another night – maybe this was something he did often. As a bartender, Elain assumed he had no shortage of pretty girls trying to convince him into a wild night. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was just any other night for him either – not as he kept glancing at her, a smile curving his lips every time he found her, as if relieved she hadn’t left yet. And Elain did not blush. She absolutely did not feel herself coming out of her skin as she watched his biceps bulge as he shook the shaker, and she definitely didn’t squirm in her seat every time those hazel eyes flickered in her direction with a promise that sent heat to her core.

Elain took a shaky breath as he began to pour a red drink into an empty glass in front of her, a sprig of spearmint and a few raspberries sitting prettily on top. Elain eyed her drink dubiously, avoiding Azriel’s watchful gaze. A shot of adrenaline went through her and Elain bit her lip as she eyed the fruit floating on top of her drink.

“What is it?” She twisted the glass around, watching as tiny bubbles danced to the top of the glass.

“Exactly what you need.” Azriel answered simply, making Elain chuckle in disbelief. Her cheeks probably resembled the exact colour of the drink in front of her and Elain wondered if the way his eyes flickered from the drink to her face meant he was noticing it as well.

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe you know what I need, Azriel?” She wouldn’t tell him how he was most likely correct – how raspberries were her favourite fruit.

He shrugged, unbothered by her scepticism. “We can say it’s bartender’s intuition.”

Elain smiled, intrigued. “But what is it, really?”

“Stop stalling, beautiful.” He nodded towards the drink, urging her to take a sip. With little doubt he had nailed it, Elain did.

An explosion of flavour burst in her mouth, and it was all Elain could do not to react to the delicious drink in front of her. The tartness of the raspberry and the hint of lemon mixed perfectly with the sweetness of whatever liquor Azriel had chosen. The freshness of the spearmint kept the drink from being too sweet and – no matter how unbelievable it seemed – it was everything Elain loved. She didn’t know how, but it was everything she needed.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers, cautious hope clear in his face as he waited for her verdict. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of expression she had on her face, but before she could even say a word, Azriel’s shoulders sagged, and a brilliant smile took over his face.

“So?” He asked anyway, as if needing to hear it coming from her mouth.

Elain finally let herself smile, impressed and a little turned on by how fucking good he was. “What is this drink called?” She asked instead, stalling once again. Because she wasn’t sure what it all meant, but she knew it was more than just a drink.

Azriel huffed, a bit exasperated. “Really?” He groaned, making Elain chuckle.

“Just indulge me, please.”

“It’s called Kismet.” He shrugged, as if his words didn’t send her heart tumbling down her tummy. “It’s an invention of mine.” Elain could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened a bit. Still, his eyes never left hers.

Elain smiled sweetly, making herself comfortable where she sat. Azriel watched her with amusement. “Well, you can make me another one since I’ll be waiting for a while.” She said, eyeing the clock. The bar would close soon enough but Elain didn’t mind waiting. She didn’t mind waiting at all. “Seems to me we’re going on a date, Azriel.”

[lovemyromance]

hey I'm an elriel girlie but your take on rhysand not doing anything wrong but helping feyre really rubbed me the wrong way, as a emergency room worker I can't tell you how many young girls come my way drugged and molested, and trust me not touching someone bellow the waist but touching them is assault, when a person touches you anywhere without your consent it is assault, how many times I've seen young girls denied justice just because they were drunk or they didn't touch private parts is disheartening, it is so disheartening watching adult women justify these actions even in fictiom

I love these books and rhysand and we can love him without justifying his actions.

Hey I'm sorry that my stance rubbed you the wrong way, regardless of what side of the ship war you're on. I'm sure you've seen some pretty heartbreaking cases from your occupation. I don't make a habit of discussing it on my blog but I've unfortunately also been a victim of SA in my life, so I understand where you are coming from.

People shouldn't touch others without their consent.

TW AHEAD: Talk of sexual abuse/assault below the cut

That being said - I still stand by what I personally consider as SA. The ultimate deciding factor is the victim, of course, because they're the one person that seeks justice.

In this situation, Feyre herself forgives Rhys for his actions under the mountain. She understood why Rhys was acting that way even during UTM. And it was shown multiple times that he did not touch her anywhere other than the waist and that one kiss - but even Feyre does not hold it against him. SJM clearly did not intend to have her MMC painted as a sexual abuser - so I don't know where this narrative came from. If Feyre/SJM don't consider SA - why would I?

Rhysand had her drink to forget the horrors Amarantha paraded in front of her every night. He painted her body so she would still know that nobody touched her without her consent.

That to me does not equate sexual abuse. Feyre knew what was happening - and she drank that wine every night. I'm not saying she shouldn't have or she willingly participated - but I'm saying she was not sexually abused by Rhysand.

I don't consider an abrupt kiss to get Amarantha's suspicions off Feyre/Tamlin an act of sexual abuse. Should Rhysand have done it ? Ideally no, but it's not an ideal situation that they were in. They were in life or death mode.

It would be one thing - and apologies if this might be triggering - if Rhysand was forcing himself on Feyre regularly -> that I would consider sexual assault, even if Feyre forgave him for it. That would've caused me to DNF the book.

But I don't consider ONE kiss under duress to be sexual assault. I don't consider touching her waist to be sexual assault either. And it's clear that's all he did.

Should he have done that? Ideally - no. But UTM wasn't exactly an ideal situation for anyone.

This is not a black and white case. There's plenty of moments where people in ACOTAR were touched by someone else against their will. Are they all cases of SA? Are we saying Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls was SA? Are we saying Tamlin touching Feyre was SA?

There are clear examples of SA in the books already. I don't need to comb through the books and consider every instance of someone touching another character without their explicit consent as SA. That's not the intended purpose of those scenes and I will choose to give SJM the benefit of doubt here.

Nobody is looking to ACOTAR as the literature that could influence how women are treated in the real world. The specific fictional scenario between Feyre & Rhys does not have any implications for what real women go through.

I personally don't consider someone touching my arms or waist as sexual assault. I understand other people might be uncomfortable with it and categorize it differently - but they have that right. In the end it comes down to the person. And in this scenario - even Feyre doesn't consider it SA. So neither do I.

[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.

[rosenecklaces]

op you're right and you should say it

Like the fact they are genuinely lying and saying gwyn sa scene isn't romanticized (and in severe cases sexualized) is so damn vile, like how can you say it doesn't happen? That artists don't take the chance to make a traumatic moment like that not a big deal? Or post about it as if that's where azriel realized she was for him? Is just disgusting and no no sane victim of sa would feel comfortable with this happening what the fuck

Gwyn was raped in an extremely agresive way by not only one man but various while her sister dead body was on the damn floor THAT is what happened on that scene THAT is what gwyn remembers most about it and if you think she would had time to check out a man and think of how he makes her feels while he just pass her to mor... you need to be called out I'm sorry but you have no voice in what and what isn't problematic

If any Elain scene is comparable to Gwyn’s SA scene it’s the Hybern one in Acomaf where her body was violated and she was left soaking wet on the floor with men leering at her. I‘ve seen someone draw her with her nipples showing in Lucien’s lap and it made me really angry. I didn’t say anything about it at that time because thankfully it didn’t have a lot of engagement and it was on Tiktok, but it’s another example of how not to depict traumatic scenes in which women’s (and men��s) bodies were violated. The scene was depicted inaccurately because Elain was never in Lucien’s lap in the book. That’s how you can tell if a scene isn’t written to be romantic but was changed by the artist for the sole purpose of romanticising it for a ship. That’s the last thing I‘m going to say about this topic.

Please excuse me, I‘m not sure what’s wrong with my english today, I hope whatever I wrote made sense <3

[shedoessoshedoes]

So Close

Inspired entirely by the movie Enchanted and the 2015 adaptation of Cinderella, I give you *drumroll please* PINING ELRIEL DANCING (yayyyyyyy) hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you do 😘

wc: 1165

tw: none

“Thank you all for your presence here tonight,” Helion announces to the crowd. “It is my privilege to share the joy of my newfound family with you.” He glances over to Lucien and the former Lady of Autumn, now High Lady of Day. “Love truly comes from the strangest of places. In honor of our story, Andromeda and I invite you to dance this final waltz with a partner you did not come with tonight. Those we are bound to are not always those we are meant to be with. Seek out a different kind of love, whether that be a romance or a friendship, as we partake in the dance of the sun.” 

Elain doesn’t know what to do with herself. She had come tonight with Lucien, as a favor to Rhys and Feyre (“Please, Elain,” Feyre had begged. “Just to show everyone that you’re trying.”) (Nevermind that Elain did not want to try with Lucien. Nevermind that perhaps Elain loved someone else.), and had spent most of the night on his arm. Helion’s speech had described her story a little too perfectly. She, too, was seen as belonging to a male she did not love. She, too, had found love outside of that binding. She, too, could not act on how she felt. She, too, had spent too much time wondering if perhaps the male she wanted to be hers felt the same way. But nevermind all of that, too. It wasn’t like she was in any position to ask Azriel to dance. 

She watches as Rhys bows to Nesta, still in the process of paying his penance for all the years of judgment and hate. Cassian sweeps Feyre off her feet in a twirl, and she tosses her head back and laughs. It’s a typical scene: no one would think to wonder whether silly old Elain would have anyone to dance with. She melts slowly back against the wall, but then–there he is. 

Looking every inch the dark, tortured soul he is, Azriel simply inclines his head to her. Elain’s breath catches in her throat. He is so beautiful. She loves him so much. They haven’t spoken since the Solstice. “A dance, Lady Elain?” 

Elain can do nothing but nod silently and slip her hand into his as he leads her to the center of the room. Sparks shoot up her arm from where their bodies touch. They settle into position, and the dance begins. 

—-

She looks stunning. In a cobalt blue gown, she might as well just declared herself as his, even if she stepped into the room on the arm of Lucien Vanserra. Azriel cannot breathe if he looks at her for too long. But the combination of the dress, and Helion’s speech, and six months of agony have Azriel losing control of himself. Besides, he couldn’t leave her standing alone during the last dance of the ball, could he? He can explain it away to Rhys, can claim that he asked her to dance with the intentions of a brother. Though his thoughts about her are anything but fraternal. 

This dance is simple. They both know it by heart. Azriel slides one hand around her waist, pulling her as close as the skirts of her dress will allow (which is not nearly close enough), and suddenly all the world is gone. 

They sway back and forth, and then Elain’s wrist comes to rest against his, and fuck, but that one simple touch has him nearly undone. “Elain,” he breathes out, and she takes an unsteady breath. Perhaps, five hundred years of life have required Azriel’s more romantic dreams to die. Perhaps he said goodbye to them far too quickly, because every dream that he ever could have had is here, in front of him, wrapped up in the package that is Elain Archeron. 

“They’re all looking at you,” she whispers. “You never dance.” This is true, mostly. The last time he danced was with Nesta in the Hewn City, and while that had been enjoyable, it hadn’t exactly been a choice. And it’s not like the Day Court citizens frequent Velaris’s Starfall celebrations where they could have seen him dance with his family. 

“Believe me,” he murmurs back, just loud enough for her to hear. “They’re all looking at you.” 

They twirl out for their first promenade, Elain’s hands resting on his arm, and he spins her around before pulling her back into a proper waltzing position–the closest they’ve been so far tonight. The closest they’ve been since Rhys’s godsdamn order. Elain’s heartbeat stutters, and Azriel wants to put his mouth on her pulse. Her entire neck and shoulders are visible in her gown, and it is entirely too distracting. 

He twirls her out and around him, and she laughs, and he would crawl over glass to hear that sound again. When he pulls her back in, her back is to his front, his hand covering hers on her hip. She leans back into him just slightly, and its his breath catching this time. When she spins around to face him, he can almost believe that this isn’t pretend. Can almost believe that this stunning female is actually his. The circle they’re clearing for their dance is larger now, other couples stopping to watch them. Az catches sight of Nesta with a small knowing smile on her face. 

This time, when he twirls her, he decides to show off, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up off the ground. Elain’s smile is so bright it could replace the Day Court sun, and Azriel can see Rhys and Lucien glaring at him from two sides of the ballroom. He doesn’t care. He does it again, lifts her higher, and when Elain comes back down, her lips are far too close to his. He dips her to finish the dance, and the room erupts into applause. Elain looks around, startled, and blushes. Azriel pulls her back upright and whispers quickly into her ear. “I’ve never been so sorry for anything in my life. Let me explain it to you? Later tonight?” Then he’s pulling back before he can second-guess this massive risk he’s taking, and Elain gives him a tiny nod as Lucien returns to his mate’s side. 

“Lovely dancing Elain, Shadowsinger,” he says, and Azriel can feel a fight brewing in his bones. So he does nothing but incline his head to Lucien, bow to Elain, and step away. He’s sure he’ll have a shitstorm coming his way from Rhys, but right now, he can’t find it in himself to care. He sends a shadow over to Elain and watches it whisper into her ear. Her eyes tell him she understands. 

Later that night, he’s waiting, standing by the window of his room, wings folded in tight, a glass of whisky in his hand. The sound comes right when he thought that it would. Footsteps, and then a single knock. Elain. He takes a breath, whispers a prayer to the Mother. And goes to open the door.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[acourtofquestions]

Welcome page/post thx 2 A Court of Questions by @lavendarneverlands

This is my (secondary/“side”) blog for my #FirstRead (& adoration of) the Maasverse! — But take this as a heads up: I mix up the two pages frequently😅😂 sorry in advance for any confusion! — Think of this page like Potterless (except probably not half as cohesive & good as the podcast lol😂). I love enjoying the series with the fandom so please feel free to reach out to #ReadAlong or #ReadWithMe (it’s why I’m on Tumblr; no one I know reads these). 🫶 also check out the tumblr community “@maasverse-first-readers” for more :-)

Header image: Blue illusion Art & Profile pic: Beth Gilbert Art

LET’S FANDOM ABOUT IT

This is a Maasverse related blog, thus it does discuss the series & spoilers (depending on where you are in the books) HOWEVER I try to keep up to date with spoiler warnings (often in the form of: #tags, red, 🚨, or what I call the “more” bar of safety) & I hope it makes it accessible for all readers! I also really try to keep this blog inclusive & friendly for everyone (any character, any ship, any reader, any person… or fae I suppose too :-) & use proper content warnings (as I greatly appreciate that in others too) … so thank you!!

As I am unfortunately human here’s a lil up-to-date guide for what is & is not discussed thus far (& as I also try to avoid spoilers for the books I haven’t gotten to yet)

— I have read ALL of ACOTAR,

— I have read ALL of Throne of Glass,

— I am currently reading my way through “CC” Crescent City; & now on Crescent City 3

Be warned: I’m a rambler of posts & content posting, and autocorrect is my true enemy😂🤣 p.s. I’m new here & always trying to learn!😊 I do my best to do my due-diligence and properly credit. And use TW whenever I can (as I need it in my life too <3

I leave most “reaction” posts up from my first reads. Opinions of course change over time! I try to edit & update (& or re-tag) but some stay old.

Currently my favorites and majority are:

ACOTAR

I love the Archeron sisters (Feyre is dear to me, I think Nesta is an important kind of character, and I look forward to more Elain in what I’m calling ACOTAR 5&1/2)

THE Valkyrie (Gwyn esp.)

I can go any which way with the Elriel/Elucien/Gwynriel/Gwynlain/etc. “debate” (like I said though I’m here for all fans and prefer to keep it generally positive/friendly; we’re all just enjoying stories & art😊).

I love Feysand (sry Tam-Tam😅 I struggle with him)

If you want to go give some ship love @gwynlain you can also find me there :-) 💕 because yes I am that fandom obsessed I have a side page for the side blog😂

TOG

I adore Celaena & Aelin (for posts on both I tend to call her “Aelin Sardothien” cause I love ❤️‍🔥 fireheart ;-)

Rowaelin is my fav ship (though you will find it was not an immediate love for “bird-boy”😂 from page 1😅) the “Team Chaol” force was once strong long ago (I don’t hate him now, I just like them as friends) though I’ve also shipped all the ships at some point🤣 (I like a lot of fandoms and have a very “SQUIRREL!” personality😅😂 so I do make a lot of references, despite this being my Maasverse page) there was a time for Dorlaena & of course Samlaena too

and Sam Cortland always deserves more (I love him & am still sad😅). My beloved "Assassins of Adarlan"

As will Dorian ALWAYS be beloved as a character,

I think in another life I’d like to be Yrene

Lysandra is a favorite.

Manon and the 13 are everything to me… till darkness claim us & beyond…

I still want a spin off with the cadre

I could make this list really really long because these books are one of my all time favorites

— Abraxos & Fleetfoot (TOG) & “The House” (ACOSF) as characters hold a candle to no other. —

“CC” Crescent City

I finished House of Earth and Blood “CC1”

I finished House of Sky and Breath “CC2”

I am currently reading House of Flame and Shadow “CC3”

I love Baxian! And LIDIA CERVOS IS AN ALL TIME FAV FOREVER!!! (Day x Night might be my fav ship in the series rn)

I love my kick-ass gals; Bryce rocks, & of course the pack of devils & Danika (her & Bryce’s friendship meant a lot to me), Fury x Juniper (their my bb’s).

SERIOUSLY I LOVE DANIKA

Syrinx is a fav, I love all the animals!

I wish I liked Hunt more, I don’t hate him, I’m just kinda meh?.. and slowly evolving into dissapointment

THE CROSSOVERS

Thank YOU “fellow dreamers” for welcoming ME! into your feed & Maasverse!

& to my fellow “first time readers” Welcome to you too! 💕

+ All you old-timers THANK YOU for your loving guide notes & support (for ALL THE FANDOM FEELS😂)!

… And yeah… Hi! Much love❤️💚🩷🩵🧡 all are welcome!!! This blog does NOT discriminate & is a safe place to enjoy fandoms (because it’s about enjoying stories!) regardless of race, nationality, ability/disability, gender, sexuality, belief, age, etc. Feel free to message & tag😊 + if it helps in the matter of communicating:

I identify as she/her (please always feel free to tell me your pronouns if you like :-) 🏳️‍🌈Bi🩷💜💙 LGBTQIA+ if you wanna call me by something other than my blog name/names you can call me Lila (short for Delilah), I’m a Zillenial (21+) I primarily speak English (though I’m usually fluent in Sign, & Czech, working on refreshers & learning Spanish), Chronic Illness advocate. & I look forward to enjoying stories with you!

And there’s nothing left to say but…

— LET’S FANDOM ABOUT IT —