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merakimoonglade · 20 hours ago

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hello my loves. I’ve been so so busy lately and haven’t been able to participate as much as I’ve wanted to in elriel month. I’ve recently, unfortunately, taken on the venture of single motherhood and it has been an adjustment to say the least. I hadn’t planned on releasing anything for this month with everything going on, but an idea lit in me a few days ago and I couldn’t help but oblige my brain. I’ve combined guilty as sin, true love and free will, AND the eyes and ears of the night court themes for this piece. 🫶🏻 buckle in babies.

*context. Azriels been training Elain for weeks, and on a training mission things go a little bit south for the better.* (NSFW!) @elrielmonth

Fic begins below:

🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇

They were meant to observe. Nothing more.

Elain crouched low behind a twisted tree root, eyes locked on the half-crumbled estate nestled in the forest clearing below. Mist coiled around the ruins like breath—silent, creeping, veiling everything in damp gray.

Azriel moved ahead of her in total silence.

Even from this distance, she could track him. Every flick of shadow, every controlled, careful step through the broken stone. He blended so seamlessly into the gloom she sometimes forgot he was even there—until her heart reminded her. Until the pressure behind her ribs pulsed like it was reaching for him.

The plan had been simple: scout a suspected rebel checkpoint in the borderlands of the mortal realm. No confrontation. No casualties. Just eyes and ears, a quiet slip in and out.

Azriel had laid out the mission with clinical detachment that morning, voice devoid of warmth as he handed her a map and a blade.

“Stay back. Watch from elevation. You’re here for support, not to fight.”

He hadn’t touched her hand when she took the dagger.

He hadn’t looked her in the eye, either.

Now, her breath held tight in her lungs as he disappeared through a collapsed wall.

Two guards. Both inside. One seated, one pacing.

She’d spotted them during surveillance—sloppy, distracted. Untrained. Azriel could handle them in his sleep.

So why couldn’t she breathe?

A flicker of movement caught her eye.

Not from Azriel.

From the trees behind him.

Another male—hood drawn, footsteps deliberate. Quiet. A blade glinted at his side. He was angling toward the same ruined wall Az had just entered, hidden from view by a thick curl of ivy.

Azriel didn’t see him.

Didn’t feel him.

The shadows hadn’t warned him.

Her blood ran cold.

The male raised his blade.

And Elain stood.

No shouting. No warning.

Just the sharp snap of her wrist and the dagger slicing through the air, end over end.

It hit. Deep into the attacker’s side. He cried out and staggered, his swing knocked off balance.

Azriel turned at the sound.

But he didn’t have time to react before a second figure burst from the tree line—charging straight toward Elain.

She froze.

He came at her fast—too fast for her to draw her second blade. He was nearly on her, faster than a breath could enter her lungs.

But not faster than Azriel.

Shadows surged past her like a wave. The second attacker didn’t make it halfway before Azriel was there—slamming into him mid-sprint with bone-crushing force. Steel flashed. The male went down hard, unmoving.

Azriel didn’t look at her. Not right away.

He stood over the attacker’s body, breath loud in the silence.

Then turned.

His gaze found her through the mist.

Alive. Whole.

And defying everything he told her to do.

He didn’t speak.

But the look in his eyes?

It said everything.

The trek back to the safehouse was a slow, brutal stretch of silence.

Elain followed Azriel along the narrow trail cut into the mountain’s edge, each step marked by the muffled crunch of damp earth underfoot. The air was still thick with mist, heavier now, clinging to her skin like sweat. Her heart still thundered from what had nearly happened. From what she’d done.

Azriel hadn’t said a word since.

He walked ahead with purposeful strides, too precise to be calm. His shadows twitched and coiled like snakes in water, snapping at the wind. They didn’t reach for her. Didn’t flicker in greeting. They hovered close to him, coiled tight like tension in physical form.

She could still feel the dagger leave her hand.

Still see the flash of silver, the moment it struck, the sound of the man’s scream.

She’d acted on instinct.

It hadn’t been fear. It hadn’t even been courage. It had just been him.

Elain stared at Azriel’s back as they walked. Every part of him screamed restraint—the squared shoulders, the clenched fists at his sides, the deliberate silence. His wings tucked back tight. He hadn’t looked at her since he’d turned to find her standing there. Not when he dispatched the second attacker. Not when she’d handed him back his dagger without meeting his eyes.

He’d taken it wordlessly and walked away.

She didn’t know if he was angry.

No—that was a lie. Of course he was angry. But why he was angry? That was the part she couldn’t name. Not really.

She wrapped her arms around herself and kept walking.

When the shadow magic finally curled around her again, it wasn’t gentle.

Azriel didn’t warn her before he reached for her arm and winnowed.

The cold snap of it tore the breath from her lungs, and then the mist was gone—replaced by the jagged rock face of the mountain, the hidden entrance carved invisibly into its side.

She barely caught her balance before the shadows unspooled and vanished.

Azriel let go of her the second they landed.

He turned away, jaw hard, siphons glowing faintly through the fabric of his leathers. His hand twitched once by his side—like he wanted to run it through his hair. Or maybe smash it into the mountain.

The stone door opened to him without a word.

He walked inside.

Elain followed, wordless.

The mountain sealed behind them.

The door sealed shut behind them with the finality of a coffin.

Stone on stone. Air thick with damp and dust. The safehouse was dark, barely warmer than the mountain outside. The fireplace hadn’t been lit in weeks. The scent of old ash and pine clung to the air like memory.

Azriel dropped his siphon belt on the bench by the hearth.

One piece. Then another. His blades next—Truth-Teller first, then the dagger Elain had returned to him. His shadows twitched at his back, in time with his wings, like they were watching her even if he refused to.

He still hadn’t looked at her.

Elain stood near the door, arms crossed over her chest, jacket damp from mist.

Her heart was still racing.

He said nothing.

Neither did she.

Until the quiet strangled her.

“You could say something.”

Azriel didn’t turn.

He just exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.

Too controlled.

“I’m not thanking you,” he said.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You disobeyed orders. You broke cover. You risked the entire mission.”

“I saved your life.”

His voice was like ice.

“You interfered.”

The words hit her like a slap.

“I saw a man about to put a blade in your back. That’s not interference, Azriel. That’s instinct.”

“I had it under control.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t see him.”

He turned then.

Finally turned.

And the look in his eyes made her breath catch.

Fury.

Not wild, unthinking rage. No—this was personal. This was deep.

“You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could have.” His voice cracked on the words. “And you didn’t even hesitate.”

“I didn’t have time.”

“You didn’t think!”

“You’re right, I didn’t! I just moved! Because I saw someone about to kill you and I—” her voice splintered. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Azriel strode toward her in three clipped steps, not touching, but towering. His siphons glowed faintly. His shadows were still.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to watch someone bleed out in front of you? You think I haven’t lived that exact moment before? Every time I send someone into danger, I’m already doing the math of how I’ll bring their body back.”

His voice was rough. Ripped open.

“I can’t do that with you, Elain.”

The air stilled.

He hadn’t meant to say it. She saw it in the way his eyes widened, just slightly. The way his breath stuttered.

Elain took a step back. Not out of fear. Just to breathe.

“You can’t do what with me?”

“I can’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, turning away like the words might burn him. “I can’t be the one to find you dead in a field because you didn’t listen to me.”

“So this is about control?” she snapped. “You just need to know I’ll stay in the box you built for me?”

“It’s about keeping you alive!”

“Why?”

That stopped him.

She swallowed.

“Why is my life so important to you if I’m just some mission you were assigned to train? If I’m nothing to you.”

His jaw flexed.

But he said nothing.

Elain stepped forward now. Voice quieter. Not softer.

“Say it.”

Still, nothing.

“You’ve spent weeks pretending like nothing happened,” she said. “Like that night didn’t exist. Like we didn’t almost give in. Like you didn’t look at me like you wanted to.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched so tightly she could see the tremble in his throat.

“You train me. You watch me. You yell at me when I get too close to danger. And you act like I’m just your job. Not even like I’m your friend anymore, just some novice you’ve been saddled with teaching.”

He turned toward her again. Eyes bright. Pained.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked. “That keeping distance is some choice I made casually?”

“Then why did you make it?”

“Because I don’t get to have what I want!”

His voice cracked on it. Echoed.

“I don’t get to have what I want,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Not if it means putting you in the path of everything that follows me.”

Elain stared at him.

And he stared back.

Every wall between them splintered.

She took a step forward. He didn’t move.

“I can’t live with that,” she said, and it came out like a whisper.

Azriel’s breath caught.

“You could have died tonight,” she continued, voice thick. “And I couldn’t watch it. I wouldn’t. I’m not sorry for acting. I’m not sorry for what I feel. And I won’t pretend I didn’t mean it.”

Another breath.

“Stop hiding from it. From me. You know I see more than they do.”

Azriel didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

And Elain exhaled.

Her voice dropped.

“You may be fine with putting things in a box and never looking at them again, but I’m not. you don’t get to sit here and say things when you know they mean something else it’s- it’s-“

Elains face screwed up, her head shaking as she spits, “You’re being a coward.”

The words hung between them like smoke, bitter and thick. Elains breaths ragged in her chest.

Azriel’s entire body went still.

Then—

“I’m not a fucking coward,” he said, voice low and sharp as a blade. “Don’t call me that.”

Elain didn’t back down.

Her chin lifted. Her eyes blazed.

“Then what are you,” she demanded, “if not afraid?”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak.

“You’re afraid to let me fight. Afraid I’ll get hurt. Afraid of what might happen if you stop holding everything in so tightly it chokes you.”

Her voice cracked now—not with weakness, but with truth.

“You’re afraid to act. Afraid to stay. Afraid to let me mean something. You can lie to me if that helps you sleep at night, but your words can’t. And your eyes sure as hell can’t.”

Azriel’s shadows went still.

“You’ve been making this impossible for months,” she said, stepping closer. “Acting like I’m something you’re supposed to endure—while I’ve just been standing here. Waiting.”

He looked at her like she’d struck him.

And then he said it.

“You have a mate, you shouldn’t be waiting for me.”

The words weren’t loud.

They weren’t shouted.

But they dropped between them like a curse.

Elain stared at him.

And then—she laughed.

Short. Breathless. Disbelieving.

“Stop pretending like that matters to you,” she said, voice sharp. “We both know it doesn’t.”

He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to say it. As if the very idea of being seen—truly seen—knocked him off balance.

“You think the bond makes me someone else’s?” she asked. “You think it’s a leash I can’t cut?”

He said nothing.

So she stepped into his space again.

“You think that night would’ve happened, that I would’ve come here, trained with you, nearly died for you, if I was waiting on Lucien?”

His jaw clenched.

Her voice dropped. “Say it.”

He didn’t move.

“Say it,” she whispered again. “Say it doesn’t matter. Say you matter more.”

His hand twitched at his side.

But still—silence.

Elain stared at him for a long moment.

Azriel’s shadows shivered behind him.

And for the first time since that night—

He took a step forward.

Just one.

And Elain saw it for what it was: a crack. A slip in the armor he always wore like second skin.

“You don’t get to use the bond as an excuse,” she said again, quieter now. “Not when you know I’ve never wanted him for a second. Not when everything you do tells me it’s me you want.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

And then he said it again, voice strained and sharp—

“I don’t get to have what I want.”

The words cut the air between them like a blade.

Elain stared at him.

Then stepped closer. “Why?”

He didn’t answer.

“Who is stopping you other than you?”

He flinched. Just barely.

Elain threw her hands up. “Cauldron, Azriel, you wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t feel what I know you feel!”

She took a breath that trembled.

“You can’t even look at me without your whole body tensing. You never stopped watching me. Not after Solstice. Not after any of it. And now you’re yelling at me like I broke some sacred rule—like I didn’t just try to save you.”

Azriel’s mouth twisted into something like pain. His shadows dragged behind him, restless and coiling.

“Maybe I don’t want to have to carry your body back to your sisters and see the looks on their faces when I didn’t protect you from yourself.”

Elain blinked.

The words stunned her into stillness.

But only for a second.

Then she stepped in, fire sparking in her chest. “No,” she said. “No. Don’t do that.”

His brows furrowed.

She advanced on him like she’d caught the scent of a lie.

“It’s not about me being fragile. Or reckless. Or untrained. It never has been.”

He said nothing.

So she went for the jugular.

“This has been happening for years. Since you figured out I was a seer. Since you saved me from Hybern’s war camp. Since you put Truth-Teller in my hand the day I killed the king.”

His mouth parted, breath catching—but she didn’t stop.

“You’ve never thought me incapable. And you still don’t. it’s not even about the mission, not really.”

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t even try.

Her voice dropped, every word sharper than the last.

“You are terrified. And you refuse to admit to yourself why.”

Azriel stood frozen.

Not blinking. Not breathing.

His shadows whipped out once, wild, and then pulled back into his body like a snapped leash.

Then—his mouth opened.

“Don’t—”

But she wasn’t done.

“Say it,” she said again, a whisper now. “Say why it scared you.”

Azriel’s throat worked. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Then—his voice broke on the first word.

“Because if you’d died,” he said, ��there wouldn’t have been anything left of me to bring back.”

Elain inhaled sharply.

Azriel shook his head once, as if he couldn’t believe he’d said it. As if the words had clawed their way out of his chest on their own.

“I watched him come after you and I thought—” He cut off, dragging a shaking hand through his hair. “I thought I wouldn’t get to you in time.”

His shadows circled his boots like smoke on the edge of a wildfire.

“I haven’t slept properly since Solstice. Since that night. I don’t rest until I’ve battered my body to the point of exhaustion. I don’t eat, I can’t think, I can’t fucking breathe.”

Elain stilled.

“I know I pulled away like it meant nothing. I should never have made you think I didn’t want it. That I didn’t want you.” he said softly.

He looked at her then—really looked at her. Raw. Exposed.

“But I did. I still do. Every moment since.”

Her breath hitched.

“I pulled away because I had to,” he said. “Not because I wanted to. And pretending like it didn’t happen—like I could train you and stand next to you and not feel anything—has been killing me.”

A broken laugh escapes his lips as his wings flare behind him.

“Gods if I’m honest it killed me for over a year before then too. in every brush of fingers, in every look. I stopped coming to dinners because I couldn’t stand to sit there with all of the ache that has tormented me. I couldn’t watch you without my self control slipping, and I sure as hell couldn’t stomach watching you when he’s near.”

He exhaled a sharp breath through his nose as He stepped toward her. Slowly. Carefully.

“You were right earlier. I don’t think you’re incapable. I never have. But I’m still scared—because if something happens to you, I wouldn’t survive it.”

He reached out. Touched her cheek. A ghosting touch.

“Because I want you. And wanting you means I have something to lose.”

Elain looked up at him, eyes shining—not with tears, but with clarity.

“The only thing you’re losing now is time. stop letting your fear rule you, I let mine go a long time ago.”

Azriel didn’t answer.

He kissed her instead. Kissed her like she was the first and only thing he’d ever wanted.

His mouth dragged over hers, slow and deep and utterly consuming. He kissed her until her thoughts blurred, until she forgot where the argument had ended and this had begun. His hands were everywhere—her hips, her back, her jaw, holding her like she was something precious, breakable only in the best of ways.

And still—he hesitated.

Not from fear. From awe.

She could feel it in the way his lips hovered just a breath from hers between kisses, how his hand curled around her waist like he was still memorizing the curve of her body. Like if he moved too fast, it would vanish.

Elain reached up and cupped his face—thumb brushing his cheek, her eyes locked on his.

Yes.

That was all he needed.

His hands slid under her thighs, lifting her easily, and set her on the edge of the table. The old wood creaked beneath them, but neither noticed. Azriel’s mouth went to her neck, then her collarbone, kissing his way down in slow, reverent trails.

She leaned into every touch, her fingers finding the buckles of his jacket. He shrugged it off, then tugged his leathers down past his wings in one fluid motion. Elain’s hands roamed instantly—up his chest, over the dips and ridges of scarred, perfect muscle.

When he looked at her again, his pupils were blown wide. His shadows flickered at her back like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to hold her or simply witness.

His hand brushed the hem of her shirt. He paused.

She nodded once. Slow. Steady.

He lifted it over her head.

Her skin prickled with the cool air, with the weight of his gaze.

He took her in like she was sacred.

Azriel leaned down, brushing his lips over the top of one breast, then the other, his tongue flicking out to taste her before sucking gently at the hardened peak. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in when he sucked again, a little firmer, his free hand stroking up her side.

She arched into him.

He groaned against her skin and moved lower, his mouth dragging fire across her ribs, down her stomach. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he kissed the soft skin just below her navel.

Then his fingers slipped to the fastenings of her trousers.

He looked up, a hazel storm glowing with gold. He just waited—still, quiet, one heartbeat.

Elain lifted her hips.

That was her answer.

Azriel worked her pants down slowly, reverently, kissing every inch of skin as he uncovered it. When they hit her boots, he knelt and pulled them off one by one, tossing them aside before dragging her trousers and underwear the rest of the way down her legs.

When he looked up at her, his eyes were hungry.

She opened her thighs for him without hesitation.

And he groaned, low and guttural, before leaning in.

His tongue stroked over her slowly—once, then again—his hands tightening on her thighs as she gasped and bucked forward. His mouth opened over her, lips sealing around her clit, sucking gently, then harder as her breath fractured above him.

Elain bit her lip, her fingers flying to his hair, anchoring there as his mouth moved with maddening precision. His shadows curled around her hips, possessive, grounding. The sight of him on his knees before her, glorious wings behind him had her hips bucking into him. When she moaned his name—breathless and shaking—he groaned into her, and the vibration undid her.

Her thighs quivered. Her hips lifted. And she came with a soft, shattered sound, her body arching as she rode the waves of it beneath his mouth.

Azriel kissed the inside of her thigh before rising again, one hand dragging up her body as he went—over her ribs, her breast, the column of her throat.

His lips met hers again.

She could taste herself on his tongue.

The bottom half of his leathers were next. She reached for them, fumbling, and he helped her—pulling the ties loose, shoving them down just enough.

Their foreheads rested together as she reached between them, her fingers brushing over his length—hard, hot, ready.

Azriel inhaled sharply. His hips jerked forward.

Then their eyes met.

One last time.

And she nodded.

He sank into her slowly.

Every inch was deliberate—deep and careful, like his body had been made for hers and had just been waiting to come home.

Elain’s breath caught. Her back arched. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in as she stretched around him, her body trembling with the fullness, the intensity of it.

Azriel let out a low, broken groan—his jaw clenched, his breath hot against her mouth.

reverent.

He didn’t move yet. Just held her.

His hands braced beside her head, body trembling with restraint. His brow pressed to hers as he tried to breathe, tried to speak, and failed.

Elain cupped his jaw, guiding his face to hers.

He kissed her like she was air. Like he needed her just to stay alive.

Then he began to move.

Slow. Deep. Every thrust pulled a whimper from her lips, her hands sliding up his back, her nails digging in.

Her eyes fluttered shut—head tilting back into the table.

And his hand caught her jaw.

“No,” he rasped, voice fraying at the edges. “Look at me.”

She forced her eyes open.

He held her face in his hand, not roughly—just enough to keep her with him.

Their gazes locked.

And then he moved faster.

Deeper.

His jaw clenched as he buried himself again and again, the slap of their skin echoing off the stone walls. His other hand dragged down her thigh, gripping hard, lifting her leg higher around his waist to angle her just right.

Elain cried out—sharp, cracked, needy.

Azriel groaned in answer, his lips brushing her mouth as he murmured:

“You feel like fucking heaven.”

His hand shifted to her throat—not choking, just cradling it, his thumb brushing over her fluttering pulse. “I’ve dreamed of this El, so many times.”

He kissed her again, desperate and messy.

“This… this was never just want,” he breathed. “It’s never been just want.”

Elain moaned under him, her eyes still locked on his, pupils blown wide.

“Then what is it?” she whispered.

His thrusts faltered—just for a heartbeat.

“It’s everything,” he said. “You’re everything.”

She shattered under him.

Her body arched, her cry breaking raw from her throat as her release slammed into her. Azriel didn’t stop moving, didn’t even pause. He held her through it—his hand steady on her hip, his mouth still brushing hers, the tremble of her walls around him making him groan.

he kissed her one more time—deep and slow and reverent.

Then he lifted her.

Elain barely had time to gasp before he pulled out, wrapped his arms under her legs and back, and swept her into his chest like she weighed nothing.

Her head dropped against his shoulder, still dazed. “Az—”

“I’m not done with you,” he breathed, voice shaking with restraint.

The bed creaked as he laid her down.

Elain’s chest still heaved. Her limbs were loose with pleasure. But her eyes—when they met his—were bright with something more.

He looked wrecked. Eyes black with need, hair wild, shadows twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to retreat or cling to her skin, wings out wide to keep him balanced.

Azriel climbed over her, body caging hers without pressure, and kissed her again. Slower now. No rush—just claiming.

His hands slid over her skin with near-reverence. He kissed her jaw, her throat, her breast, and as he lined himself up again, his gaze flicked to hers. She held it, as she let her legs fall open wider.

And he sank back into her.

This time he groaned deep in his chest, jaw clenching as he bottomed out.

He started slow. Deep. Letting her feel all of him. Letting himself feel it too.

But his control was cracking.

Every time she moaned.

Every time her legs tightened around his hips.

Every time her hands slid into his hair and tugged.

He picked up the pace.

Not rough. Just driven.

“You undo me,” he breathed against her mouth.

Elain kissed him, gasping between every drag of his hips. “Then fall apart with me.”

That broke something in him.

He pulled back enough to see her face, then took her mouth with his again—tongues tangling, her fingers fisting in his hair as he moved faster, harder, deeper.

His hand slid between her legs, stroking where they were joined.

She gasped.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give me another.”

She whimpered. “I—I don’t—”

“You can,” he said, voice like velvet and fire. “I know you can.”

His hand tangled in her hair, dragging her face closer as his hips snapped. His other hand gripped her thigh, anchoring her to the rhythm. And his eyes—gods, his eyes—were locked on hers like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“You’re mine,” he said hoarsely. “Say it.”

Elain moaned, her body winding tight again. “Az—”

“Say it.”

Her head tipped back, her breath shattering.

“Yours,” she gasped. “I’m yours.”

Azriel leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to the skin above her heart. “Let go for me love.” the words hoarse and reverent on his tongue.

Her climax hit like a wave—harder this time, her body locking around his, her cries muffled against his mouth as he leaned up to swallow the sound of his name on her lips.

Azriel groaned, and this time—this time he let go.

Buried deep, his entire body trembling as he came, holding her like he could pour every unspoken word, every broken piece of him, into her.

They stilled.

Wrapped in sweat and shadow and breath.

And then—

Azriel leaned down and kissed her, soft and trembling.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered.

Elain’s voice was wrecked, but sure.

“You could’ve had me the whole time.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Not right away.

His forehead rested against hers, both of them still gasping for air in the cradle of the tangled sheets. His hands framed her face, his chest pressed to hers, connected in every way.

And then, slowly, his wings drooped down.

Not to flee. Not to shield.

They dropped low, curling around her like a blanket, like instinct. Like protection.

Elain’s fingers dragged down the sweat-slick line of his spine. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath. The way his heart still pounded—faster than hers, erratic, unsteady.

He kissed her again.

Gentle now. Quiet.

His mouth brushed over her lips, her cheek, her temple. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything in return.

The kind that said thank you.

Elain shifted slightly beneath him, not to pull away—but to wrap her arms tighter around his back. Like she could sense what was already happening inside him.

Because it started small.

Just a flicker behind his eyes. A change in his breathing. The weight in his chest pressing just a little too hard.

Elain felt it before he even moved.

The guilt.

The withdrawal.

Azriel tensed.

His jaw clenched.

And then—he started to pull back.

“Don’t,” she said softly.

His muscles went rigid.

“I know what you’re doing,” she whispered, her voice still raw. “Don’t run from this.”

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Elain—”

“You’re not leaving me in this bed to pretend it didn’t happen.”

His wings twitched, beginning to lift.

She reached up and grabbed his face. Forced him to look at her.

“You’re going to ruin this if you go back to hiding.”

His throat worked. His eyes were dark, full of things he hadn’t said.

“I’m not…” he began, then stopped.

And she saw it—the exact second the mask tried to come back down.

“Don’t,” she said again, voice cracking. “I waited. I waited through your silence, your distance, your anger. Don’t tell me it meant nothing.”

His hands tightened in the sheets.

“I’m not worth this,” he said hoarsely. “Not what it’ll cost.”

She blinked at him. “You think I haven’t already paid for it?”

Azriel’s mouth parted.

“I’ve loved you in silence for months, Azriel. And you looked through me like I was no one.” Her voice desperate. “So don’t talk to me about cost.”

Something in him snapped.

He leaned down, kissed her again—hard, trembling. A gasp escaping his mouth, right into her own.

“You love me,” he said between kisses. “You love me.”

She cupped his face again.

“I do. stay. Please.” Her words settled against his lips like a plea. He presses his mouth against hers softly.

And this time, when he settled back into her arms, when his wings wrapped around them again—

He didn’t pull away. He whispered against her neck, voice catching in his throat, “I love you too.”

Eventually, Azriel pulled out.

Elain exhaled softly at the loss, but he didn’t go far—just shifted beside her, gathering her against his chest like he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

His wing draped over them both, cocooning her in warmth and shadow.

But his body was stiff.

Tense.

Like something was still wrong.

Elain felt it immediately.

The way his hands had stopped moving. The breath he hadn’t released. The guilt still bleeding off of him in waves.

She pressed her palm to his chest. “Azriel.”

He didn’t respond.

Just stared at the ceiling, eyes distant.

“Tell me.”

His throat worked.

Nothing.

“Azriel,” she said again, softer. “What aren’t you saying?”

Still the silence slithered around them full of the weight he carried in his chest. she began whispering shakily as She watched his jaw flex, “if it’s me then say it, I can’t-“

His eyes darted toward her, then away, when he cut her off.

“If this comes back to hurt you,” he said, voice so quiet it barely registered, “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Why would it hurt me?”

Another silence.

A long one.

And then he whispered—

“Because I was told to stay away from you.”

Elain stilled.

Azriel didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Her voice was barely audible. “What?”

His grip on her waist tightened—reflexive, like he expected her to pull away.

“Rhys gave me an order. Solstice night. Right after we— He told me… not to pursue you. That it would complicate things.”

Elain’s breath left her in one sharp, soundless gasp.

He still wouldn’t look at her.

“He didn’t want to upset the bond. Or Lucien. Or the Court. Said it wasn’t my decision to make. That I didn’t have the right.”

His voice cracked.

“And I obeyed.”

Elain sat up slightly. Not to leave—but to see him.

He looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy. Mouth tense. Every part of him screaming don’t hate me without saying a word.

“So when we almost—”

“I wanted it,” he said quickly. “I wanted it, Elain. More than anything. But he called me away. Mind to mind. I didn’t even get to say goodbye not in the way that I wanted to.”

He swallowed hard.

“And after that, I thought maybe he was right. That if I pushed—if I took something I wasn’t allowed to have—it would ruin everything. That maybe it would ruin you.”

Elain was silent.

Not because she was angry.

But because the grief hit her like a wave.

Slow. Crashing. Unstoppable.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said softly. “All this time.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You let me think it was me,” she whispered. “That I wasn’t enough.”

Azriel’s face crumpled.

“I’m sorry.”

And Elain—gods help her—believed him.

She leaned forward, cupped his face in both hands, and said,

“I should be furious with you.”

His eyes fluttered shut.

“But I’m too tired. And I’ve wanted this— you for far too long.”

He opened them again. Looked at her. Really looked.

“You’re not angry?”

“Oh, I am,” she said, voice shaking. “Just not at you.”

She leaned down, pressed her forehead to his.

“You’re mine now. No more orders. No more lies.”

Azriel nodded once, eyes burning.

“I swear it.”

And then he wrapped his arms around her waist again, pulled her down into his chest, and held her like he finally understood what it meant to choose her. Not his duty, not his title, not his court or his lack of belief that he deserves something good, but her. He held her like this was the only obvious choice there ever was, like it was inevitable, and she clung back in agreement. This was theirs, they belonged where they chose to, and not a single thing would stand in the way of it again.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elriel tbr

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