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danydragons21 · 2 years ago

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TSTS Chapter 33: The Incident

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 33: The Incident

“Oh my gods,” Cassian yelled, covering his eyes.

“Fuck,” Elain hissed, spinning around.

“Fuck,” Az echoed, turning and stuffing his half-hard dick back into his pants. His heart was pounding against his chest. Next to him, Elain was frantically lacing up the few corset ties he’d managed to loosen, her face bright red and fingers shaking. For perhaps the first time since meeting her, he was very glad she was fully clothed; at least she was able to preserve some decency. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about himself; he was quite positive Cassian had gotten a full view of his partly-flaccid manhood.

Not to mention, of course, that he’d seen him and Elain. Seen them locked at the lips, seen their hands twisted around each other, their bodies pressed together so tightly it was impossible to discern where he ended and she began -

There wasn’t a chance in hells of playing this off as something innocent. Not a single one.

“ What the fuck is going on here?! ” Cassian practically bellowed.

“Keep your voice down,” Elain snarled, spinning around and fixing a dagger-edged stare at her brother-in-law. Her voice was mostly steady, but Azriel could hear the thundering of her pulse; she was just as thrown off, just as distressed as he was. “Do you want to alert the whole godsdamn manor?”

“What the hells are you even doing here?” Azriel demanded. His siphons were glowing brightly, and tension and something like panic clanged through him like a bell. Nuala and Cerridwen knowing about them was one thing, but Cassian…Cassian was another level entirely. If Cassian knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone else knew, too. And if everyone else knew, then he and Elain would have to - well, he exactly wasn’t sure what they would have to do. That was the problem in and of itself. He had no idea how the others would react. Had no idea how it would change the very dynamic of their tight-knit group, their family -

No, if his and Elain’s secret were to no longer be a secret, he hadn’t a clue what would happen next.

And he was a strong enough male to admit that he was rather afraid to find out.

“Looking for you two!” Cas shouted, his voice only slightly quieter than a moment ago. “I wanted to hang out!”

“And you didn’t use your supersonic hearing to realize that we were not just ‘ hanging out ’ in here?” Elain said incredulously.

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT THE SOUNDS I HEARD WERE - “

“Shut up, would you?” Az growled, his wings flexing menacingly behind him.

“But you two - you and you -” he pointed at Az, eyes wide with shock before narrowing in outrage. “What the hells were you doing with her!?”

The Shadowsinger was about to bite back when Elain beat him to it.

“Are you requesting a play by play?” she replied coolly.

The General gaped. His mouth kept opening and closing like a fish on a hook. “ What is happening ?” he asked again in a hoarse whisper. He looked rather faint, and there was an unmistakable sway in his knees.

Azriel’s suspicions were confirmed when Cassian dramatically fell back onto a work stool. He scoffed while beside him, Elain rolled her eyes.

“Why are you even at the Manor right now?” the shadowsinger asked, unable to keep a throaty grumble out of his voice.

Cassian’s look of shock turned into one tinged with frustration. “I told you I was coming to the Mortal Manor tonight! I told you not even eight hours ago! Or have you gotten so old you’re going senile?”

Azriel blinked. He was so caught off guard that he didn’t even think to be offended by the insult. Was that true? He thought back to their conversation on the rooftop…he could have sworn both Cassian and Mor were supposed to arrive tomorrow…But, to be fair, his mind was rather preoccupied with several other things at the time.

He scratched the back of his neck guiltily. “I thought you said tomorrow,” he muttered as the arches of his cheeks went warm.

Cassian scowled. “Well, obviously, I didn’t.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Cassian buried his face in his hands and groaned, seemingly overwhelmed by the events that had just taken place.

Elain and Azriel took advantage of his distraction by having a silent conversation.

Are you okay? she mouthed. Genuine concern gleamed in her big doe eyes. Despite the embarrassment he knew she was feeling, here she was, putting her own feelings aside out of worry for his own.

Affection fluttered in his chest. A moment later, it was replaced with sour shame. Mother above. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a scared, selfish little boy. Despite his initial reaction, the very last thing he wanted - and that included getting horribly cockblocked mere moments after receiving the best blowjob of his life - was for Elain to walk away from this situation thinking he was in any way ashamed of her. Not when that was so far from the truth. He simply couldn’t bear it.

But he wasn’t sure how to say all that, so he just gave her a quick, terse nod.

Elain looked quickly away, and after a few seconds, sighed long and loud. Cassian finally raised his head to look at her.

“Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen,” she said, a calm and even expression on her face. “You’re going to ask us three questions, and we’re going to answer them completely honestly. But only three. That’s it. That’s all you get.” She glanced sideways at Az. “Right?”

He didn’t hesitate. Wherever she was going with this, whatever plan she had, he had full faith in it. In her. “Right.”

“Fine,” Cassian said, “How long has -”

Elain held up a finger. “I’m not done. We will answer three questions if , and only if, you promise us something.”

“Promise what?” he responded, voice laced with suspicion.

“You have to promise not to speak about anything you saw or heard here tonight. Got it?”

Cassian’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Do you realize what you’re asking me to do? I can’t keep this from Nesta!”

At the mere mention of her elder sister, Elain’s shoulders tightened. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with her.”

If the heavy sigh he gave was any indication, Cassian noticed Elain’s reaction, as well. “Even if I agree to keep whatever this is -'' he waved a flippant hand at the two of them - “a secret, Nesta will know I’m keeping something from her. She’s smart like that.”

“Or you’re just incredibly bad at keeping secrets,” Azriel said dryly.

Cassian glared at him. “You’re awfully bold for someone who just got caught in a garden shed with their dick hanging out.”

Azriel arched an eyebrow. “At least my dick is big enough to hang out of my pants. Shame you can’t say the same.”

“Shut it, the both of you,” Elain ordered. Then she pinned a serious gaze on Cassian.

“I didn’t want to play this card, but you’re forcing my hand,” she said. “You have to keep this a secret. You owe me , Cas.”

Cassian blinked. So did Azriel. What in the world was she talking about?

She widened her eyes meaningfully. “Remember?”

Cas stared at her for another long second before he threw his head back and groaned. “Fuck,” he whined. “You’re right. Ugh. Ugh . Fine,” he said, focusing his gaze back on Elain, a pouty scowl on his ruggedly handsome face. “You fight dirty, Archeron.”

“I’m sorry you had to learn the hard way.”

The Illyrian General shook his head. “I thought you were supposed to be the sweet sister.”

Elain smiled ruefully. “You thought wrong,” she said, then inclined her head. “Ask your questions.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asked immediately.

The other two glanced at each other. Azriel wasn’t quite sure how to answer. When did this thing with him and Elain begin? If he was being incredibly frank, it began the moment he saw her clutching that fork in the mortal lands, when she was endearingly human; when she was small and fragile and scared - and brave. Always brave, even then.

But “ this” was an incredibly vague identifier, and Azriel wasn’t interested in digging into any kind of unnecessary details here. Besides, he was pretty sure Cassian’s question was mainly referring to the sexual nature of their relationship, so..

“A while,” he finally said. “A few months, at least.”

Cassian gaped like a fish out of water. “Months?” he gasped. “ Months ?” Then he turned to Azriel with a hurt expression. “How could you keep this from me? I thought we told each other everything!”

Before he could answer, Elain said, “Is that one of your questions?”

“No,” Cassian replied sullenly, throwing another dirty look at Azriel.

“Then ask your actual next question.”

“Does anybody else know?”

“Nuala and Cerridwen know,” Elain replied. “Rhys knows we almost kissed about a year ago, and I guess Feyre and Mor know about that too, but that’s it.”

He turned to Az with comprehension dawning in his eyes.“Wait, is that why you and Rhys - ?” Then he stopped himself, clearly remembering he had limited access to the information he desired.

“We are fairly confident they’re the only ones who know, anyway,” Elain continued. “And you too, now, I guess,” she added wryly.

“What a joyous club to be a part of,” Cassian deadpanned. If Azriel wasn’t so worked up (being simultaneously annoyed, panicked and still a bit horny wasn’t doing his cardiac system any favors), he might have smirked.

“Last question,” Elain said. “Better make it a good one.”

With a wary gleam in his eye, Cassian’s gaze swiveled between the two of them. “Do you two like each other or something?” he asked finally. “I mean, is this just…you know…or is it…”, he trailed off awkwardly.

Elain opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instinctively, or so it seemed, her eyes darted to meet Azriel’s.

And before he could think twice about it, and despite the tight ball of panic still pulsing in his chest, he said, “Of course we like each other.”

The beautiful shine in her eyes made it all worth it.

Cassian sighed, long and loud. “And everything was going so nicely,” he said dramatically.

The adoring look on Elain’s face dropped immediately. She turned to Cassian, narrowing her brows. “Don’t you worry your below-average-sized wings,” she said, causing Cassian’s mouth to drop and Azriel to bite his tongue in an attempt to stifle his laughter. This girl . Godsdamn.

“This isn’t your problem,” she continued. “This isn’t anyone’s problem. Got it?”

She bared her teeth. Her gaze was so ferocious, her tone so commanding, Azriel didn’t even blame Cassian for wincing slightly.

“Got it,” he said weakly.

“And it’s going to remain that way, right?” she said, just as intensely.

“Right,” Cassian finished lamely.

Elain nodded, satisfied. “Well, it must be near dinnertime.” Her tone was suddenly sweet and casual again. “Let’s go eat, shall we?” Then she led the way out of the shed.

As they walked through the conservatory, Cassian looked around with wide eyes, taking in the practical indoor jungle around them. “Hey, didn’t all this get destroyed by Koschei months ago?”

Elain and Azriel exchanged a brief glance. “Yes,” she said, “I’m not sure if you knew this, but plants can grow back.” The corner of her lips twitched when Cassian immediately scowled - and she couldn’t help but smile fully when Azriel let out a short, rasping laugh. She watched him for a moment, smiling all the while, their eyes locked together. The gaze broke apart when they sensed Cassian’s gaze.

He was shaking his head again. “Nice sister, my ass,” he said under his breath as they continued along the twisting dirt path.

***

If Elain was even a bit nervous about how Azriel would handle The Incident , as she’d had taken to calling it in her head, her worries were short lived.

It was true that dinner had been an awkward affair. Vassa was predictably absent, but Jurian, who’d been gone for several weeks leading his armies, was there. At first, Elain had been rather grateful for his presence; at least he distracted Cassian enough that he stopped shooting wildly-obvious glares at Elain and Azriel.

But she’d severely underestimated Cassian’s burning hatred for the mortal general.

In retrospect, it made sense. Azriel hadn’t liked Jurian at first, either - and why would he, after the human had shredded his wings once? But after months of living in the Manor with the mortal, she could tell - even if he’d never explicitly said it - that any anger Az held toward the mortal had vanished.

Unfortunately, Cassian was just beginning his journey on the Road to Forgiveness; thus, the entirety of the meal was filled with barbed comments, pointedly rude observations and outright aggressive insults that grew progressively more offensive as the evening bore on. Elain bit her lip through most of the immaturity, but when Cassian snarkily referred to Jurian as a “One-Eyed Wonder of the World,” she neatly crossed her fork and knife over her plate and excused herself for the night.

She had more important things to do than try and make the boys play nicely. With all the chaos of the last week - from the revelations at the Day Court to the almost-kiss with Lucien to her and Azriel’s emotional reunion and to Cassian’s interruptions - there had been no time whatsoever to focus on calling forth any relevant visions.

Well. Perhaps there had been time, she thought guiltily. She simply had not made the time.

By this point in her training, Elain had grown powerful enough that she rarely went an hour without having some sort of premonition. However, unless she truly focused and exerted intentional energy toward her magic, the visions she did receive were incredibly fleeting and mostly useless. For example, when she got into bed each night, she foresaw the dress she’d choose to wear the next day. Did it save her time in the morning? Sure. But it certainly wasn’t solving any issues pertaining to the greater threat at play.

Two weeks. That’s all the time they had left before the Ball. All the time she had left to find out Vassa’s secret and how it pertained to both her and Koschei. All the time left she had to make a goddamn difference in this fight.

And if she was being entirely honest with herself, she hadn’t put forth the amount of effort she should have been exerting given the quickly-shortening timeframe.

Walking a bit more aggressively than before, she pushed open the door to her quarters, determined to spend the rest of the evening focusing on eliciting a vision that would be of some use to her and her family. It was her duty. Her responsibility. And she was going to succeed. She wouldn’t accept any other alternative.

But the second her door shut, she realized she wasn’t alone. She felt his presence behind her, felt the toe-curling chill that constantly accompanied him. The cool she always craved.

An instant later, she was thrown onto the bed, not roughly but with enough force that she bounced. She lay in the center of the mattress, propped up on her elbows. She couldn’t help the breathy little moan that escaped her lips as she watched Azriel prowl toward her. Gods , he looked like an Angel of Death, hazel eyes rimmed with darkness and onyx wings spread so wide the tips nearly grazed the walls. Then they curled in slightly, the claws at the end gripping the bed posters as he crawled onto the bed.

Cool, quick hands snatched at her ankles and dragged her forward until she lay flat on her back. And before she could even begin to protest, he spread her legs wide and pushed aside her undergarments. Any inkling of responsibility vanished completely from her mind the second the cool air hit her folds.

Then he returned the favor she’d given him earlier in the shed and devoured her like she was his last meal. She came quickly, so quickly it might have been a bit embarrassing if it was anyone else but him, crying out softly as her legs shook.

After he’d lapped her up, he found her lips and kissed them so softly, so tenderly, she felt like she was melting. She kissed him back, just as intensely, loving the taste of their desires mixed together.

They kissed for so long she lost track of time. When Azriel finally moved away, his lips were cherry red and swollen and juicy. She was sure hers were, too.

For several moments, they simply looked at each other, attempting to catch their breath..

“Az,” she finally said, still breathless.

“Mmm?”

“About…about earlier,” she began, then stopped. She was not sure how to phrase what it was she wanted to ask next.

If she was Nesta or Feyre, she’d have no problem coming right out and asking all the questions she wanted to ask - What is going to happen know that Cassian knows? or What the hell does this change in living arrangements mean for us? or What about when we leave the manor in just a few weeks? and most of all, What exactly are we to each other? In the shed, he’d said he liked her. But what else did that mean? What did that entail?

She was starting to fear she’d lose her mind if she didn’t get answers soon.

As it was, she was not either of her sisters. Much to her - and their - chagrin.

Azriel seemed to be blissfully unaware of the mental battle she was currently going through. One hand palmed the back of her head, the other thumbed her bottom lip. His eyes were hazy and unfocused. “Yes?” he murmured.

Sometimes, after sex, he looked at her like…she didn’t know how to explain it. Like he could look at her forever. Like he would never be done with her.

This was one of those times.

The questions she wanted to ask died on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin the moment. “When do you leave next?” she asked instead.

He frowned immediately. So much for not ruining the moment.

“I should have left hours ago,” he admitted.

It was her turn to frown. “And you stayed because of The Incident?”

He raised an amused brow at the moniker, but he nodded without any other comment.

She shook her head. “That was unnecessary,” she said. “I appreciate the gesture, truly…but you know I can handle myself.” A gentle finger traced the sharp line of his jaw. “You’re an important male with lots of important responsibilities.”

He shrugged. “Semi-important,” he allowed. “And I know you can handle yourself. It was Cassian who I was worried about. He has a very fragile constitution, and given the shock he went through earlier, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to faint or anything.” Azriel’s voice was low and teasing.

She loved him like this - relaxed, teasing, at peace. But she couldn’t shake the nagging disquiet that he’d shirked his responsibilities for her. His fierce dedication to serving the Night Court and ensuring all its citizens were safe was something she loved most about the shadowsinger. And the last thing she wanted was to hold him back from fulfilling that role.

Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job of keeping her worry off her face. “You have nothing to feel guilty over, Elain,” he said.

She chewed on her lip. “I don’t want to ever keep you from your duty,” she said.

“You are my duty,” he said seriously.

“Oh, stop it,” she said after a moment, though her effort to play off his comment was severely diminished by the deep blush that was indeed dusted across her cheekbones.

One side of his mouth tipped up. “I love how easy it is to make you blush.”

She groaned and covered her hands with her face, making him laugh. It wasn’t long before she was laughing, too.

By the time their laughter faded, an apologetic expression had replaced Azriel’s fond and relaxed one. “I do need to go now, though,” he said.

She immediately sat up. “That’s alright. I understand.” And she did.

The spymaster’s shadows appeared and engulfed him; seconds later they cleared, revealing a fully-clothed and fully-armored Azriel.

“I’ll only be gone for a day or two. Maybe three, if things don’t go as expected.” he said. “There’s someone I have to - something I have to do. But it shouldn’t take long.”

The desire to ask him where he was going was on the tip of her tongue. But if he wanted her to know, he would have told her, right? So she bit back the urge.

His bright hazel eyes roved over her face. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he finally said.

Elain nodded. Then she moved forward, and before he could register her actions, wrapped her lithe arms around his neck. After a stunned moment, he returned the gesture, enfolding her small, warm body in his embrace.

“Be safe on your mission,” she murmured, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingertips brushed the top of their bargain tattoo; the slight contact was enough to send a trail of embers down his spine, leaving him feeling rather unsteady. Not to mention that the softness of the action (and the instinctual way she’d done it, like it was second nature to her, like she couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it) had thawed a piece inside of him that had been frozen far too long.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said.

He swallowed back the strange knot in his throat and forced out a low chuckle. Thankfully, as Elain leaned back to smile softly at him with a mischievous glint in her eye, she did not notice anything off.

He must have been staring at her for too long, because Elain let out a bright, lovely laugh. “Go,” she repeated, kissing his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon,” he said back, his cheek still tingling from her kiss. Gods. If only his enemies could see him now: the great Illyrian warrior, the fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court, brought to his knees by a simple peck on the cheek. Would wonders never cease?

He hoped not. Perhaps, if he somehow was able to keep Elain by his side, he could ensure it.

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enchantmentandshadows · 4 years ago

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Elriel Month | Day 1: Rosehall

Word Count: 1142

Content Warning: None

Theme: Fluffy & Sweet

Song Suggestion: Mrs. Darcy - Music from Pride & Prejudice

“I think that your future will be filled with more lovely and wonderful things than you could ever imagine, Elain.” He said, softly, resisting every urge that screamed at him to reach out to her. “Maybe this is the Mother’s way of telling you that.”

Elain picked a large purple flower, twirling it between her fingers before adding it to the small bouquet in her hand. “There was a large gate, but I couldn’t quite make out the word across it. It was in lovely swirling letters. I just can never seem to pull it from my visions.”

"Hmm." Azriel hummed from where he lay. The trip to the meadow was one of their usual outings, Azriel found that Elain had a much easier time discussing her visions when they were here, alone. The others meant well, but they just didn’t have the patience to sit and listen without pushing for more information. Azriel found that he could listen to Elain talk about just about anything for hours and never tire of it.

“Beyond the gate there was a long cobblestone path and I followed it all the way to an enormous garden.” She explained, fanning her arms out to describe the enormity of said garden.

“The same garden as last time?” Azriel asked, eyes closed and wings fanned out as he sunned them.

“Yes, the very same, you remembered!” she said, excitedly as she described her latest vision, similar to ones she’d had before.

“Did you think that I wouldn’t?” he asked, pretending to be offended as he lifted his head and teasingly opened one eye, narrowing it at her with a smirk.

“No no, of course you would, of course...” She amended, waving her hand at him and plucking a few more flowers before pausing, having lost her place in the story.

Azriel snorted, closing his eyes and laying his head back down. “The stone path to the massive garden...”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, plucking more flowers to add to her collection. “I took the stone path all the way to an enormous garden, oh the flowers were so lovely, flowers I’d never even seen before, perhaps from the continent or other courts, I can’t be sure. If I had Feyre’s talent I would paint them all. A sea of reds, pinks, yellows and blues…” she sighed dreamily as she recalled.

“Tell me more…” he coaxed gently, watching as she closed her eyes, as if trying to get the vision back. Eventually, she sighed and went back to picking more wildflowers, arranging them as she went along.

Elain turned her gaze to him and gave a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re not interested in my rambling on about this place. Why don’t you tell me about your mission? I’m certain its much more exciting.” She said, adding more flowers to the bouquet in her hand.

He shook his head and sat up, elbows resting on his knees. “Actually, after missions I look forward to our talks. Dwelling on missions…on what battles may lie ahead…I’m happy to keep my mind off of it when I can. It’s easy when I’m with you.”

Elain tilted her head as if considering before nodding with a smile, the gentle breeze blowing through her hair, making the soft pink ribbon from her sun hat dance with her golden brown waves. “Alright then, back to the vision. This time, I also got to see the manor beyond the garden. I’ve never seen so many roses in my life, in every color you could imagine leading to the house. Oh, it was so lovely, Azriel.”

He picked a flower, twirling it between his fingers. “It sounds lovely.”

“There were even roses on the house, just waves of the most beautiful pink blossoms spilling over its great stone walls. It was as if the entire manor were made of roses or-” she smiled to herself, “or as if they were protecting it.”

Azriel arched a brow. “The flowers? Protecting the manor?”

Elain nodded, picking more flowers. “Yes. I think that’s a lovely thought actually, don’t you? Something that seems so delicate protecting something that seems so strong and secure?”

“I do.” He agreed, picking a few more flowers. “Was there anyone else there this time?”

“Unfortunately, no, but it felt different this time.” She smiled, thoughtfully.

“Good different, or bad different?” he asked, his shoulders tensing slightly as he watched for her reaction.

“Good. All the other times it all felt so strange and new. In fact, I thought that I might be tapping into Feyre’s memories at first, perhaps from her time in the Spring Court, but I never felt sad or afraid.”

“Azriel smiled, plucking another flower. “Only good feelings then?”

“Yes, in fact this time I felt so comfortable there, it felt...well it felt as if I were home. As if I belonged there.” She said, the memory warming her heart as it had during the vision.

Elain stopped to examine her bouquet, turning flowers this way and that and nodding to herself in approval before realizing that Azriel had fallen silent. She tilted her head and looked to him, her eyes narrowing slightly in the sun. “What are you doing over there? Have you fallen asleep?” she teased, taking her sun hat off and walking over to where he sat.

Azriel chuckled, watching her, a vision in the dusty pink dress she wore. “I’m just listening, that’s all.”

“Do you think it means something? I mean, that I keep seeing this place in dreams and visions? Could it be some kind of sign or warning?” She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly with worry.

He shook his head, rising to his feet. “I think that your future will be filled with more lovely and wonderful things than you could ever imagine, Elain.” He said, softly, resisting every urge that screamed at him to reach out to her. “Maybe this is the Mother’s way of telling you that.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, smiling up at him, her eyes shining with hope.

“I do.” He nodded, presenting the flower crown he’d been struggling with as she’d been telling her story. Elain’s face lit up as she bowed her head, letting Azriel put the crown on her. His hands trembled slightly as he gently placed the crown in her hair.

“More than anything, I hope that vision is a sign of your future happiness.” He said quietly, letting a lock of her soft brown hair slip through his fingers.

“Thank you, Azriel, I hope so too, and you're quickly mastering flower crowns, I'm very impressed.” She smiled shyly as she teased him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him. She closed her eyes and her heart fluttered as that familiar feeling washed over her again. The same feeling she got as she neared the rose covered manor, the feeling of home.

Azriel didn’t hesitate, his heart thundering as he wrapped his arms around her too. He closed his eyes, her delicate scent warming him, the scent that always reminded him of home.

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danydragons21 · 3 years ago

Text

I. AM. OBSESSED.

Behind Their Backs

HELLO, and welcome to I think I want to write angst and then I realize I hate doing that so HAVE SOME FLUFF!! Written for Elriel Week 2022 (Forbidden) (It's in there. If you squint) I hope you love it, and tell me what you think!!

wc: 2031

tw: slight nsfw

tagging: @justheretoreadsposts @danydragons21 *waves*

It’s after midnight when Azriel finally hears his front door open. Keys hit the tray, and then soft footsteps make their way over to his bedroom. He rolls over in bed to face the doorway, one arm propping his head up. The door opens, and there she is.

Elain is stunning, even after a 8 hour shift and then a night out with her sisters. The light from his kitchen behind her gilds her unbound hair, and a tired smile breaks across her face. He loves her, Mother, he loves her so damn much.

“Hi,” she says quietly, making her way over to the chest of drawers.

“Hi,” he says back, voice heavy. He’d almost been asleep. He watches as she pulls out one of his shirts and pulls it over her head. “I almost didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I know. I have to get up and leave early tomorrow, too, but I wanted to see you.”

Because his brothers were coming over, and they couldn’t know that she had been here. Because Rhys had decided to tell both Azriel and Cassian that Feyre’s sisters were off limits when they’d first started dating so nothing was awkward. A good idea, in theory, but both Az and Cassian had been nursing crushes for the Archeron sisters since their first introduction, so it just led to feelings of resentment, and in Azriel’s case, lies.

Two years ago, Elain had told Azriel how she felt, and kissed him, and Az couldn’t give a fuck anymore about Rhys’s so-called orders so he’d kissed her back. And Az and Elain had decided to ignore Rhys’s orders and date anyway.

So they went behind their siblings backs: they went for lunch in towns 45 minutes away, waited until late at night to go over to each other’s apartments, turned off their locations so the nosier people in their lives wouldn’t put the pieces together that the reason they weren’t available for family dinners was because they were with each other, instead. They were very good at it. Their family knew they were close friends, and the pair managed to make enough time for each other that they felt like they lived together already.

Az groans, falling back onto the bed. “I hate this.”

Elain sighes, climbing into bed next to him, wearing only one of his t-shirts. “I know. I do, too.” She crawled across him until she was straddling his lap, and pressed her forehead to his. “I want to be able to tell everyone that I love you,” Elain confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

He kisses her quickly: a reassurance that they’d be okay, and that he loved her, too, before responding. “I want to tell Feyre to stop trying to set you up with Lucien. I want to be able to tell my brothers that I can’t go out because I’m spending time with my girlfriend. I want Mor to stop setting me up with every single girl that comes across my life.”

Elain sighs again, and then shakes her head, as though to clear it. “It’s fine. We have five more weeks, and then Feyre and Rhys’s wedding will be over and Nesta and Cassian will finally have hooked up, and our big reveal won’t even be that big anymore. I love you. That’s enough.”

Az wraps his arms around her, presses her closer so their bodies are fully aligned. “I love you. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts to not be around you.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate, Az,” she tells him playfully, tucking her head into his shoulder and kissing it.

He groans, his head kicking back. “You can’t say romantic things like that and not expect me to react, El,” he tells her, rolling his hips up into hers.

She smiles into his neck, enjoying the game. “You love her, and you want to be around her, and you would rather be with her than your brothers, because I mean, wouldn’t you really rather cancel on them and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning and sleep in, and go out for breakfast–”

Az cuts her off by rolling her over so her back is against the bed and he’s hovering over her. “I think, love,” he whispers in her ear, “That you’re using sex as an incentive for me to cancel my plans.”

“I’m just saying–” Az rolls his hips into hers, and her gasp cuts off her words. “I’m just saying that I think I can be much more entertaining than Cass and Rhys.”

“You’re not wrong. You’re very entertaining in the mornings.”

“I can prove to you how entertaining I can be if you tell me you’ll cancel,” Elain beams up at him and presses a kiss into his chest as her hand starts to trace down his stomach to his pants.

He rolls off of Elain with a groan, and she giggles at how quickly he gives in.

“Fine. It’s not like I really wanted to see them anyway.” Az grabs his phone off the nightstand to text his brothers he’s canceling, and then rolls back on top of her, letting his weight come over her as he buries his head into her chest.

“I love you,” she says again, running her hands through his hair. He starts pressing kisses to her chest, and Elain arches up into him almost involuntarily.

“Eager, aren’t you? I thought you were the one that was supposed to be entertaining, not me.” Az works his way down her body until he’s laying between her legs, pushing her shirt up until she’s bare for him.

She shifts, trying to get him to touch where she wants. “I think this is entertaining enough for you.”

Az laughs, and demonstrates his agreement with a lick clear up the middle of her. He keeps going, not letting up until she’s fallen apart around him and is pulling him back up to kiss him. Az comes to her obligingly, discarding his pants, and soon he’s deep inside of her, his mouth on hers, the two of them falling back into the rhythm they’d mastered over the last two years.

It feels so good, so right, like it always does, like it never has with anyone else.

Afterward, Az rolls over onto his back and pulls Elain onto him so she’s laying on his chest. “Soulmates, huh?”

Elain laughs, blushing. “I thought it would be a good way to get you to cancel your plans. You seem to be a sucker for romantic things like that–I still haven’t forgotten how excited you were when I brought you flowers.”

“Well,” he says slowly, opening the bedside table and reaching into the drawer. “If you’re going to declare yourself my soulmate, you might want this.”

He puts a small box down just within her line of sight, and Elain is immediately wide awake and sitting up. “Az– Az, is that–” they’d discussed getting married before, of course, and they both were ecstatic over the idea of reaching that point in their relationship, but she thought that he was going to wait–at least until they’d told their family.

“Yeah, El, it is,” he says, his voice sounding breathless. He opens the box up, revealing a thin gold band with tiny diamonds all around it. It’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry Elain’s ever seen. It’s also very close to the ring she’d shown him months ago, the ring she’d told him that was her favorite, the ring that she’d thought he’d asked to see as some sort of joke.

Apparently, she’d been wrong, and he’d been hiding a more serious intention.

“Are you okay?” he asks, turning her face so she’s facing him. He sits them both up, back into the position they’d been in earlier that night; him against the headboard, her facing him, their foreheads pressed together.

Elain nods furiously, tears rushing to her eyes. She doesn’t trust herself to speak.

“Okay. I’m going to try to do this, okay?”

She nods again, her tears flowing freely now.

“I don’t have anything planned to say to you. I love you. You love me. We both know that. But El, I have never been loved the way that you love me. You are kind, and selfless, and willing to see me for two fucking years behind our families backs, and–and you bring me flowers, and coffee, and you let me come and watch Schitt’s Creek with you, and I know that doesn’t sound romantic, but I love being able to sit and just be with you.

“I want to marry you because I want to wake up to you every day. I want to marry you because I want to make you tea every morning while you make my coffee. I want to marry you because I want to get into arguments over stupid shit and realize five minutes later that none of it matters. I want to marry you because I want to come home to you every night. I want to be the one that takes care of you when you’re sick, the one that’s proud of you when you get a new job, the one that you grow a family with. I want to be your date to every stupid family event that Rhys makes us go to.

“But most of all, Elain Archeron, I want to marry you because you’re you, and there’s nothing anywhere that comes close to how strongly I feel for you. Marry me. Please. Live your life with me.”

Elain’s nodding furiously, barely able to get the words out. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” and then he’s sliding the ring onto her finger, and it’s a perfect fit (but why is that surprising–Az is like a spy: he knows every random thing about everyone, her ring size should be no different) and she’s kissing him, and their tears are mixing, and she didn’t know anyone could feel this happy at one time.

“I love you,” she whispers, in between kisses. “I,” another kiss, this time on his cheek. “Love,” another on his forehead. “You.” A final kiss on his neck. “I am so honored you chose me to be your wife.”

He pulls he down to the bed so they’re both laying down again. Az kisses her forehead and rests his head on top of hers. “I think I like fianceé better than soulmate. This way, everyone knows I chose you, and you chose me, that we chose this fate. It wasn’t any supposed Great Divine. It was just us.”

Elain giggles. “And to think, our entire relationship has been entirely in secret! I thought someone would have figured it out by now. I think I should just go to dinner with everyone on Tuesday with my ring on and see what they all have to say.”

Az chuckles. “That might be the surprise of the century.”

They’re quiet for a moment, basking in the happiness surrounding them. Elain breaks it with a groan. “We only have tomorrow, and then we both have to get up and work on Monday, don’t we?”

Azriel considers this, his eyes turning analytical and then seductive. “I mean, we could just call out. Might as well do Tuesday, too. We’ll be very busy, you know. As fiancés.” She laughs, catching his dirty meaning entirely. Az turns thoughtful “But then we could have our first event as an engaged pair be dinner that night.”

Elain nods her agreement. “I think that sounds perfect.”

“I think we’ll need that alone time.” Elain swats his arm but doesn’t disagree.

She presses her body closer to his. “So, fiancé, I get you all to myself for three days? I don’t know if that’s going to be enough–”

Az cuts her off, kissing her until she’s breathless, and when they finally do calm down enough to go to sleep, they’ve both declared the night the best of their lives.

They’re happy. They’re getting married. They love each other. That’s enough. Who needs fate to tell you who to love, anyways?

Yay!! thank you so much for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments and constrictive criticism is always welcome. My asks are open: let me know what you want me to write!!

#elriel #elrielfic #elrielmonth #mybestieisanamazingwriter

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saraannereads · 10 months ago

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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

#elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elriel #Elriel kinktober #kinktober #elrielfanfic #elrielfic #elriel fic writers #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #elriel endgame

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danydragons21 · 2 years ago

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TSTS Chapter 31

The Shadows that Sing - an Elriel fanfic

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 31: Air

The heady scent of fresh flowers hit her the second her feet touched solid ground.

Blinking, she took in her surroundings. They were standing in the center of the forest clearing at Rosehall - the one rimmed with Night Roses. The last time she was here, it had been during the day, and the flowers were nothing more than translucent buds tucked into their own petals. Now, beneath the shimmering starlight, they were magnificent to behold.

“Oh my,” Elain breathed despite herself. The Night Roses were more lovely than she could’ve imagined; pearly white with a spectacular silver sheen, they seemed to glow of their own accord. There was no wind to speak of, but Elain could have sworn that the blooms swayed slightly, dancing to a melody only they could hear.

“Do you like them?” Azriel asked, his voice smooth and quiet.

“Like them?” she laughed lightly. “They’re exceptional.” Slowly, as if she might disturb a sleeping creature, she walked forward, studying the petals closely. Though aware that one should never touch the flowers with bare hands - the oils on fingers did not bode well for such delicate blossoms - she still had to fight the desire; they looked so soft, so lovely. But she knew some things were better left untouched.

She stepped away and faced Azriel. He was watching her from a distance with a carefully impassive expression.

“Thank you,” she said. “For taking me here. For showing me.”

“I told you that I’d bring you back to see them at night.”

She nodded, not sure what to say to that.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he said after a moment. “I know that I do not deserve your time -”

“Don’t do that.” She held up a hand. “I told you I would hear you out, and you deserve the chance to explain. But please don’t…victimize yourself.”

He winced. “You’re right.” Clearing his throat, he started again. “I brought you here because this place brings me unparalleled comfort. It’s always been a sort of solace for me. A haven of serenity and solitude.” He paused. “Did you know that you’re the only person I’ve ever taken here?”

Despite herself, Elain’s heart jumped in her chest. “Not even Rhys and Cassian?”

He shook his head. “Not even them.”

It took all of the strength inside of her not to react to that.

“The first time I brought you here, I told you a bit about my past. About my mother’s past.” A pause. “But there is more to the story. I’d like to share it with you now, if you’re willing to hear.”

Unsure what this had to do with their recent fight but equally unwilling to pretend she wasn’t intrigued, Elain simply replied, “Okay.”

Perhaps someone who knew Azriel less would not have noticed the miniscule change in his countenance, but she knew this male - for better or for worse, she knew him - and she saw the way he steeled himself. The way his jaw set and eyes darkened and shoulders tensed, like he was preparing for battle. Whatever he was about to say was not going to be easy. For him to say - and for her to hear.

He took a deep breath. “Five years after they cut out my mother’s tongue,” he began, and the explicit and graphic statement had Elain inhaling sharply, even though she’d heard it before. But the blunt way he said it, so unexpectedly, so matter-of-factly… the abject horror of it all struck her anew.

“Five years after that, I had my first leave from Illyrian training camp. By then, Rhys and Cas and I had gotten exceptionally close. Close enough to go to the ends of the earth and back to defend each other; close enough to where we’d shared our deepest and darkest secrets with each other.

“Cassian told us about his bastard upbringing and the way the townspeople mistreated his mother. Rhys told us about how cruel his father was, how he feared for his mother and his sister’s safety in his absence.

“And I told them about my childhood. I told them about the cellar and the darkness and the lonely, freezing nights. About my father, step-mother and half-brothers. I even told them about what they did to my mother,” he said.

Maybe she was imagining it, but the temperature around them seemed to have dropped significantly; a chill raced down her spine.

Azriel cracked his neck in agitation. “By the time we got our first leave from camp, we’d already devised a plan. First, Cassian would go to his old village to free his mother from the hellhole she was in, with us following closely behind to ensure no trouble befell them.

“Unfortunately, we arrived much too late.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with trepidation.

“Cassian’s mother had been killed years before, apparently,” Azriel said, and there was no mistaking the tremor in his voice; the way his vocal cords clenched together in an attempt to stem the emotion. “Shortly after he was shipped off to training, we later discovered. There wasn’t even a body for him to visit. To give a proper send off. To say goodbye to.”

Cassian’s warm, friendly face swam in her mind. She had no idea such tragedy lay in his past. Had certainly never heard this story before. A fat tear dripped from her eye, and she was not surprised to find her hands were shaking.

“You can imagine how he reacted,” Azriel said.

Elain just stared at him. Yes, she could imagine. Gods, could she ever. But still, she needed to hear it straight from him.

Azriel met her eyes, a steely hardness glinting in his own. “Cassian did not leave many survivors. Nor did Rhys and I, by the time we arrived to help.

“And right after that, while we were still covered in blood, while the bodies of our victims were still warm,” he said in a forcibly blank voice, “we moved on to the second part of the plan. But this part of the plan was not about Cassian’s vengeance. No. It was about mine .

He took a deep, unsteady breath. “Originally, the plan was to bring them all to justice. To take them to Rhys’ father, tell him the details of my childhood spent in the cellar, and let the High Lord of the Night Court bestow a suitable punishment.”

“And you trusted Rhys’ father to deliver that justice?” From what Feyre had told her, the previous High Lord had not been a kind male.

“Rhys’ father was a cruel and sadistic prick, but he was also intelligent - and I think he could tell, even then, that Rhys’ powers would far outweigh his own. We were counting on him being too calculated and strategic to deny Rhys and his ‘dangerous’ friends what was a fair enough request. I had been abused. We simply wanted my abusers to be punished accordingly.”

“But the truth was, we couldn’t entirely rely on the High Lord to punish them properly. And by the time we left Cassian’s village…that sort of uncertainty was simply unacceptable.”

Her blood went cold.

“When we arrived at my father’s house, there was no chance of containing our anger. Least of all mine.” His voice was quiet and yet his words were spoken with aching clarity. “They were dead within minutes,” he said, closing his eyes for an expanded moment before opening them again, a dull sort of acceptance raging in the hazel depths. “All of them. My father. My step-mother. My half-brothers. All it took was minutes,” he repeated, his shadows a tempest around him.

He was watching her closely, carefully, as if he expected her to gasp or clap a hand over her mouth. Perhaps he was looking for any indication of fear or disgust or revulsion upon her face - looking for any reason to stop telling his story.

But he would not find one, not with her. Never with her. She simply kept on listening, her expression neutral, her eyes wide and her attention rapt.

It gave him enough courage to continue on.

“I watched as they suffered. Watched as the life drained from each of them. Then we threw their bodies onto a pyre. That was my idea, of course; a twisted way of paying them back for my hands, though by that time they were long dead and couldn’t feel the pain - but gods, it felt good, all the same. It felt good to know that I could do that to them, even in death. That the power and control was mine entirely.

“Perhaps the worst part of it all is that I’ve never regretted it. Not once. Not for a single moment. It’s not because I believe I was righteous in my decision - I was a child then but I am grown now, and I know that vengeance so vicious can only sow more seeds of violence.

“It’s because I wasn’t alone in what I did. My brothers were by my side during it all. They committed those terrible acts, too; the blood that stains my hands is splattered across them, just the same. And if we are together in something, no matter if it is right or wrong, then it is all going to be okay.

“I tell you all this not to scare you or remind you what horrors I’m capable of,” he said quietly, “but to try and somehow explain to you that Cassian is more than a friend to me. He is more than a brother. He is deeper than blood. We share not just friendship but centuries of joys, sorrows and sins. Of being each other’s true and chosen family. He’s seen me at my worst and I have seen him at his.

“That is why…that is why I was so distraught when I thought I might lose him forever. I was spiraling. It felt like that day all over again, like there was this uncontrollable rage rising within me, and I was helpless against it. It was terrifying. It was humbling . I thought I was losing him forever, and I thought it was all my fault,” he croaked out.

Emotion welled in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but turn away and hope he wouldn’t see. She understood what he was telling her, of course. What wouldn’t she do to protect Feyre or Nesta? What sorrow would overwhelm her if she lost Nyx? Deep empathy pulled at her gut.

She looked back at him. Took in his dark, handsome visage; the vulnerability etched upon his face so rare, so precious. What if something were to happen to him ? Fear and something far more dangerous clutched at her heart.

Yes, she understood all too well how he’d been feeling. And yet there was still so much hurt in her heart over it.

There were always reasons for actions, but that doesn’t mean those reasons were excuses . As obviously devastated as Azriel had been, it was certainly no excuse for the way he’d so callously insulted her. She was worth so much more than that.

She opened her mouth to tell him all of that, but Azriel hurriedly spoke before she could.

“I know none of this excuses what I said to you.” Well, he stole the words right out of her mouth. “I know that. Within seconds of you walking away from me in the den that day, I realized that l’d fucked up monumentally. Not only had I hurt you…but I’d also pushed away one of the only people in the world that I trust completely.”

Trust . Just hearing that word drip from his perfectly curved lips threatened to chip away at her mask of icy apathy.

“I realized something else important too.” He took a step closer. “Something I should have realized a long time ago.”

“What did you realize?” she asked, her voice blessedly steady despite the visceral way her body reacted to the increased nearness of his own.

He stepped forward again. “I realized that you are my family now, too,” he said. “That you are someone I trust not with my secrets but with my life . Someone who I depend on. Who I…,” he swallowed, courage threatening to desert him - but he was not a cowardly male, goddamnit, he was Azriel, Shadowsinger, Spymaster; he was all they called him and more. But more than all of that, he was brave.

And no one made him braver than the female standing before him.

“Who I care about more than I can adequately convey,” he said, not even thinking twice about how his voice shook slightly.

Elain’s face of forced indifference crumbled entirely. “Oh, Az,” she murmured.

Striding forward, a fervent, burning look on his face, he cupped her face in his hands. “You are my family, Elain,” he said fiercely. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There is no limit to the lengths I would go to protect you. And if something were to happen to you, I would be just as distraught. Just as broken. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I hear you.”

“But do you understand?” he asked. There was an intensity in his expression that was utterly bewitching.

“Yes,” she said, interlacing her fingers with his own, captivated by his gaze. "I do."

And she did. He wasn’t saying he loved her. He wasn’t defining their relationship or calling her his girlfriend or providing any clarity to the secret things they did to each other in the dark.

But he was telling her he cared about her. He was calling her his family . She knew how much that word meant to him, and she knew the courage it took to open up like this to her. This male, who frustrated and confounded her as much as he made her entire world spin, who struggled with emotions that had been pushed down for longer than she could possibly comprehend, had gone out of his comfort zone to give her comfort.

For now, that would have to be enough.

“I’m so incredibly sorry for what I said. For taking my anger and stress out on you when you did absolutely nothing wrong. Gods, I’m just so fucking sorry,” he said unevenly.

“I know,” she whispered back. “I know you are.”

Azriel leaned his forehead against her own. “Do you forgive me?”

She did not hesitate. “Yes. Of course I do.” Elain had never been one to hold onto grudges. It was simply not in her nature.

With a mix between a relieved groan and a heavy, rattling sigh, he let his arms fall to her sides. Then he wrapped her up in his embrace. They stayed that way for a long moment.

Then Elain leaned back, a serious look on her face. “But if you ever talk to me like that again, I swear to the gods, I’ll be done. I deserve so much more than how you treated me. Do you understand?”

He nodded solemnly. Earnestly. “Yes. I won’t ever say shit like that to you again,” he swore.

She nodded back. They were still wound around each other tightly, knotted together like ancient roots. Azriel’s firm, hot muscles tensed as she lifted a hand to cup the back of his neck. Her fingers lightly traced the bargain tattoo there.

A deep, rattling sigh escaped his lungs. “I missed you,” he murmured. “So damn much.”

“I missed you too,” she replied honestly, still caressing his nape.

He burrowed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. Then his lips began to lightly trace the contours of her collarbone. Instinctively, her body squirmed beneath him, and she let out a breathy, desperate moan.

Their scents shifted in tandem, growing heady and sultry as desire overwhelmed them both.

“You keep making those noises and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said, raising his head and staring at her with dark eyes.

“Why would I want you to control yourself?” she asked, thrusting her hips into his. The evidence of his lust pressed against where she wanted - no, needed - him the most.

Azriel let out a deep, virile noise. He grabbed her hand and cupped it over his throbbing length.

“You want it?” he asked hotly, lips tracing the arch of her ear. “You want it right here, right now?”

“Please,” she said.

“Hells,” he rasped. Then, with graceful and enviable ease, he scooped her fully into his arms and laid her gently on the forest floor. He crawled over her, wings arching magnificently behind him.

They did not bother undressing; they did not consider that it might be too soon after such an emotionally-charged reconciliation to rush into sex. It had not even been a week since they’d last been together, but for the frantic way they clutched and pulled at each other, it may as well have been a year, a century, a lifetime. They were moving only on instinct.

Azriel shoved up her skirt, his breath uneven. She returned the favor by unbuckling his pants and pulling out his throbbing length wiggling out of her own underthings.

To her surprise, he held out a hand. “Mine,” he said in a tone that left no room for disobedience. Hand shaking, she passed over the silken garment. When he pocketed it, her face turned so red she thought she might just burst into flames.

Azriel’s cool, long fingers traced her cheekbone. “It never fails to amuse me how bashful and innocent you can get,” he murmured, “seeing as you’re the most irresistible, fuckable female I’ve ever met.” He tapped his hot member against her sensitive, slick center. She was absolutely soaking, and he couldn’t contain his groan at how good she felt beneath him.

Elain whimpered in response, her legs instinctively hooking themselves around his back. Then her heel brushed against his wing. It was an accidental, feathery touch that had him shuddering uncontrollably. He’d never wanted someone - anything - so badly. He wanted her like he wanted air.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me,” he moaned against her neck, hips still moving forward in a desperate, choppy thrust, the tip of his length sliding along her slippery folds.

“Az,” she panted, and now her hands were gripping his ass, pulling him toward her best she could.

“Yes, baby?”

“Need you,” she gasped out. “ Now .”

That was all he needed to hear. A second later, he was pushing inside of her, deep and hard.

It was unlike any other coupling they’d experienced before. From the second he was inside of her, there was no talking. There was no registering the world around them. There was only Azriel and Elain and what they were when they were together; something grandiose and mythological; something greater than the sum of its parts.

***

Azriel was buckling his belt when a shadow curled up to his ear.

The twins need to speak with you, the shadow said, Urgently .

Alarm shot through him. The twins knew better than to throw words like urgently around so casually. If they said it, they meant it.

Elain was watching him with narrowed eyes. “What is it?” she asked, clocking his concerned expression. As usual, she looked utterly delectable post-sex; her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright and her hair was adorably tousled. Though he had half a mind to throw her back on the ground for round two, he somehow managed to wield the iota of willpower that remained inside him.

“Nuala and Cerridwen have an urgent report,” he said. “Do you mind if they meet us here?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Do you mind if I hear what they have to say?”

“Of course not,” he echoed. His gaze flicked down quickly, the corner of his lip turning up. “You might want to readjust your dress, though,” he said. His sultry grin grew wider as Elain blushed. As soon as she had laced up her gown, sadly covering her perfect tits, he gave his shadow the go-ahead to call for the twins.

They arrived seconds later, materializing in the darkness like they’d been there all along.

“Greetings, Spymaster,” the twins said in unison, their voices melding together like smoke, both wearing impassive expressions. Then they noticed Elain, and the nonchalance transformed into excitement.

“Elain!” Nuala said happily. She stepped forward into the shadows and appeared directly in front of Elain before bestowing a bone-crushing hug on her. “We didn’t know you would be here, too!”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Cerridwen said to Azriel with a dirty glance before embracing Elain as well.

He rolled his eyes. The twins loved blaming him for things he had no control over.

“What’s the urgent matter you needed to discuss with me?” he asked, getting right down to it.

“We have important information for you. For both of you, actually,” Nuala said.

“What information?”

“Do you remember how weeks ago, you asked us to find out why the Autumn Court soldiers were in contact with a recently-deceased Blood Oracle named Lady Margota?”

Azriel felt Elain look at him in surprise, but he kept his gaze focused on the twins.

“Yes. And?” he urged them on.

“Well, our network of spies has obviously had trouble tracking the Autumn Court soldiers. So we decided to try a different approach. We began focusing on finding Blood Oracles instead.”

Cerridwen took over. “A week ago, we found one living on a nearly-deserted isle on the Eastern coast of Prythian. A male named Corleys. He was rather unamused by our presence the first few days, but with a little… persuasion , we managed to get him to open up.” Nuala grinned wickedly.

“And open up he did,” continued Cerridwen. “He told us that months ago, Autumn Court soldiers found him. That they threatened him with punishments worse than death if he did not acquiesce to their demands.”

“And what were the demands?” Azriel asked.

“First, he was to tell them everything he knew about the history of the Blood Oracles. Where they originated from, how many were left, and where they resided. He told them all that he knew - and, of course, he told us all he knew, as well. Specifically that the Blood Oracles derived from an ancient tribe of Fae that has been extinct for centuries, and only a handful of Blood Oracles remain today.”

Nuala cut in. “The Autumn Court soldiers told Corleys that he was not to repeat his knowledge to anyone else. And then they told him that, if a young Fae female that possessed the rare power of fortune-telling was to come knocking at his door in search of information, and if she, he was to contact the Autumn Court immediately.”

“We are still working to locate any other living Blood Oracles and confirm that they too were visited by the Autumn Court, but we think it’s safe to assume that this is the same warning Lady Margota received.”

Azriel clenched his fists. Yes, he imagined that the warning was the same across the board.

“How would they know that Elain was to visit a Blood Oracle?” he asked through his teeth.

“We’re still trying to figure that out.”

With a growl of frustration, Azriel turned away. He wasn’t upset with the twins; of course he wasn’t. They had done very well in retrieving this important information. But there were gaping chasms in the story that he still could not fill; missing links that he didn’t understand. And until he fully understood, he could not properly protect anyone. Could not protect her .

“What was the name of the Fae tribe the Blood Oracles descended from?” Elain asked.

Something in her voice had him freezing in place.

“I believe he called them Celians,” Nuala responded.

If Elain’s sharply inhaled breath didn’t tell him what he needed to know, the way she refused to meet his eye would have.

“You’ve heard of these people before,” Azriel said.

She nodded numbly. “That night in the Mortal Manor library,” she said, “I was searching for something I’d seen in a vision earlier that day. A vision that showed Vassa writing something in a book. When I went to the library myself that evening, I located the book - it was something about royal lineages in the mortal world - and scribbled on a page was the word -”

“Celians,” Azriel finished for her. She dipped her head in affirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, doing his best to keep his anger out of his tone, but it was an impossible task: how could she keep something so important from him?

She shot him an accusatory look. “My apologies for getting distracted shortly thereafter,” she said, raising a delicate eyebrow. Suddenly, he recalled what had happened when he found her in the library that night.

He immediately shut his mouth.

Across the clearing, the twins exchanged a meaningful glance.

Oh, Gods above. Did they know ? He knew he’d done a masterful job of hiding his and Elain’s scent post-sex - it was instinct for him to do it now - but the twins didn’t need hard evidence to discover secrets. There was a reason they were his best spies.

“Vassa must know about all of this,” Elain said, the disappointment and disbelief in her voice pulling him from his worries. “She knows about the Celians, and the Blood Oracles, and how they all connect to-” she stopped abruptly. “Isira!” she said.

“Bless you,” Nuala said.

“No, Isira ,” Elain repeated urgently, her doe eyes bright and wide. “The Flame-Keeper from the Day Court.”

“The what? ” Azriel, Nuala and Cerridwen’s voices sounded together.

Elain smiled sheepishly. “I suppose there’s a lot I need to fill you in on,” she said, and then she was off, recounting her short but adventure-packed trip to the Day Court, the others interjecting sporadically:

“A secret bookshelf? How have I been a spy for three centuries and yet I’ve never found a secret bookshelf?” Cerridwen pouted.

“And you just waltzed into the room? The glowing room where an unknown presence lay beyond the door?” Azriel asked darkly.

“Lucien is Lord Helion’s son ?” Nuala gasped.

Elain nodded seriously. “Yes. But you cannot tell anyone. It was a surprise to Helion as well, and I don’t think they’ve spoken since, so who knows what’s going to happen. But Lucien would be in danger if Beron were to ever find out.”

“Us spies happen to be rather good at keeping secrets,” said Cerridwen.

“Let’s hope so.” She took a deep breath. “Right before I left Helion’s office, Isira told me I needed to talk to the Queen,” Elain said. “She must be referring to Vassa.”

“I would assume so. There aren’t many other queens in your circle of friends,” Azriel said.

Choosing to ignore his teasing tone, she said, “I mean, I need to confront her, right? Need to convince her that it’s time she tells me everything she knows, whether she wants to or not?”

“What if it goes badly, though?” Nuala argued. “What if Vassa is secretly in kahoots with Koschei and this is all a part of an elaborate plan to ensnare you?”

Azriel shook his head at the same time Elain said, “She is not working with Koschei.”

“How do you know?” Cerridwen asked quietly. “You don’t want to believe the worst in your friend, but people do terrible things when they are afraid.”

“It’s not about what I want to or don’t want to believe,” Elain shot back. “It’s about what I know. I’ve lived with this woman for months now. I’ve become her confidant. Her companion. There are things she is keeping from me, yes - and I’m sure that fear is a factor in why she is doing so - but there is no way in hells that she is helping that monster. I would sooner cut off my hair than believe that.”

A thoughtful quiet met her declaration. “Don’t cut your hair,” Nuala said finally. “I don’t know if you could pull off a bob.”

“I could pull off any hairstyle I wanted,” Elain said, “but noted.”

Azriel, who’d been oddly quiet, let out a low chuckle. The twins looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

He cleared his throat. “Vassa cares about Elain. And she would die before helping Koschei. It’s probable that she hates him more than we do.”

The twins inclined their heads in tandem. “The two of you know best,” Nuala said simply.

“But I don’t know if it’s time for you to confront her yet,” he continued, directing his words to Elain. “Remember, the ball is approaching. We need the ball to happen. We’ve been planning a trap for Koschei for months, and it might be our only chance to defeat him. Forcing Vassa to share information she isn’t ready to share could backfire - and we can’t risk that.”

“So what should Elain's next move be?” Cerridwen asked.

“To do what she’s been doing all along,” Azriel said. “Lay low. Keep alert. Be her friend. If she tells you of her own accord, fantastic. But we can’t postpone the attack plan against Koschei any longer. Not if we want to end his reign of terror and ensure our safety once and for all.”

Ensure your safety, he wanted to say to Elain, but he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to being called out like that. She’d say he was babying her in front of the twins, or she’d accuse him of thinking she was weak. He knew she wasn’t weak, of course. In fact, he knew she was stronger than most. But he also knew that the mere idea of losing Elain had begun to infiltrate his thoughts day and night, and the sooner the threat of Koschei was eliminated entirely, the sooner he could breathe properly again.

“So I just keep pretending to be her friend?

“Are you pretending?” he asked.

Elain averted her gaze, a deep swallow working down her throat. It was an answer in and of itself.

She rubbed her eyes. "This plan sure better work," she said tiredly.

“Well, I don't know about that, but I do know one thing for sure,” Cerridwen said.

“What’s that?” Elain questioned.

“If Azriel’s going to stuff your panties in his pocket, he should learn to do it more stealthily,” Nuala finished for her sister.

Indeed, peeking out of the front pocket of Azriel’s pants were Elain’s silky pink undergarments, lacy hem and all.

Before either Az or Elain could do more than gape soundlessly, the twins vanished entirely, though not without one last, knowing smirk.

Tagging: @sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia @fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @gracie-rosee @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugs @karomdr-blog @athena-85 @justreallybored @innlove @closetedfreak98

LMK if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

#tsts #theshadowsthatsing #elriel #elrielfic #elrielfanfic #elain archeron #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elain acotar #azriel acosf #azriel shadowsinger #post acosf #acotar #acotarfanfiction #acotar fic

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ayieedelweiss · 3 years ago

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#elrielfic

Mixtape

Elain Week Day Four: romance

Obviously I ship our flower girl with Azriel, so here’s another installment of my secret dating modern AU. Enjoy!

Fluff. Modern AU.

Elain sat with her face tipped up toward the sun, her bare feet resting on the front dash in Azriel’s car. The sunroof was open, and the windows were all rolled down, taking full advantage of the balmy, late summer afternoon as they cruised along the empty winding road along the coast.

The sun was warming her tanned skin and the wind was whipping her hair all around. She just closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment, getting lost in the rumble of the car and the warm sun on her exposed arms and legs. As her wandering thoughts brought her back to earth, Azriel’s true crime podcast broke through her bubble of bliss, causing a truly dignified snort to escape her. Glancing over at her boyfriend, she saw his eyes fixed on the road behind his Wayfarers as he listened intently to Episode 200: The Zodiac Killer (Part 3).

Keep reading

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danydragons21 · 2 years ago

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TSTS Chapter 32: The Reins

Please enjoy this plot-light but smut-heavy chapter with a lovely twist ending.

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 32: The Reins

The House of Wind looked different. It was nothing incredibly noticeable, but to someone who’d lived there for many years, Azriel could spot the nuances immediately.

The recently-installed bookshelves in the den. The preternatural steel-and-vanilla scent that hung around like smoke. Music playing in a distant room in the house, most likely turned on by Nesta and forgotten afterward, or perhaps she’d done it on purpose, so that it would never be quiet; she did love music after all. The warm, comforting glow of a House that was now a Home.

First Rhys, then Cassian…when would it be his turn? His heart twisted with envy. With pitiful want.

Was this kind of future - this simple, beautiful, vital existence - simply not in the cards for him? Was he truly destined to never find his other half?

His shadows swirled around him angrily at the thought. Azriel knew exactly how they felt; knew exactly what they were thinking.

She already has a mate , he reminded them silently. His shadows buzzed angrily, a feeling which Azriel sympathized with greatly.

It had to be said, though, that while the thought alone used to be enough to make him snarl out loud, for some reason, it had stopped having quite the same effect on him as it used to. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the change had occurred - though it seemed to coincide neatly with when he and Elain started fucking like rabbits - but it was significant enough to have caught his notice.

So fucking what if she had a mate? So fucking what? The truth of the matter was that she didn’t like her so-called mate . Well, maybe she liked him fine, as a friend. Whatever. But she didn’t like her mate the way she liked Azriel. Her mate didn’t have her confidence, her secrets, her heart. Her mate didn’t make her scream like Azriel did when he was balls deep inside her.

And no one had ever made him feel the way Elain made him feel. That was the truth. So why the hells shouldn’t she be his? A flare of hope, so bright and foreign, burst inside him. His shadows bobbed excitedly. “Calm down,” Azriel berated them, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t bother hiding his grin.

He finally found Cassian on the rooftop of the House of Wind, running through his usual exercise routine.

“Az!” His brother cried jovially. The massive Illyrian warrior popped up from the one-armed push-up he’d been in, strode over and clapped him on the back. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Missed you too,” Azriel murmured, cheeks tinged pink. Cassian’s overt and verbal expression of emotion had always embarrassed him as much as it ingratiated him.

He cleared his throat and straightened his wings. “Where are the Valkyries?” The warriors’ training was normally held at this time.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re assigned to City Guard duty now,” Cassian said proudly. “So we’ve had to move our training to earlier in the day, before their rounds begin.”

“Impressive.”

“Some of the credit goes to you, I suppose. You did train them for a while,” Cas shrugged his wings. “Though more credit goes to me, of course.”

“Of course,” Az echoed, raising an amused brow. For a moment, he rather missed assisting with the Valkyrie training, but…well, his new assignment certainly had its benefits.

Additionally, it didn’t escape his notice that a very important aspect of Velaris security had been amended without his insight, approval or even awareness.

“When did this change go into place?” he asked sharply.

It was Cassian’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Yesterday,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here. To tell you.”

Hmm. Maybe he was overreacting.

“So why aren’t you with the Valkyries?” Azriel asked, veering away from the awkward moment.

Cassian scowled. “Because the Overprotective Twins still don’t want me to ‘overexert’ myself.”

“Am I correct in assuming Rhys and Nesta are the Overprotective Twins?”

“You are correct.”

“Will you give me that same pouty face if I tell you that I, too, think it’s best if you take it easy for a few more weeks?”

“Why are you asking questions to things you already know the answer to?” Cassian said. “Anyway, we have more important things to discuss.”

“You’re the one blathering on.”

Cassian glared at him, and Az resisted the urge to grin. It was so easy to mess with his brother.

“Since I’ve been banned from physically exhausting ,” he said, the last phrase spoken with the kind of disdain one would use whilst saying thick mucus , “activity, I’ve been reassigned. I’m coming to stay at the Mortal Manor with you and Elain!”

Azriel’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. “What?” He choked out after an extended beat.

“Well, and Mor too, I guess.”

The shadowsinger froze completely.

“I’m heading over there tonight. Mor should be arriving tomorrow.”

“Great,” Azriel said, doing his best to express some pleasure so as to not hurt his brother’s feelings, though he was pretty sure he just came out looking rather constipated.

In all honesty, the whole scenario sounded utterly dreadful. He was going to be living in a Manor for gods only knew how long with:

A mortal queen who turned into a bird during sunlit hours,

An annoyingly chipper human who never knew when to shut up,

His best friend and adopted brother who also never knew when to shut up,

His other best friend, a blonde he’d loved for centuries, who had once slept with aforementioned brother,

The female he was currently in a - something with, who dominated his thoughts day in and day out, and who was currently hiding some very strong magical powers of her own,

And the male she was eternally bonded to, who just so happened to be the son of not one but two High Lords, and who Azriel could barely look at without feeling like kicking something. Or, sometimes, killing something.

Yeah. This was going to be a blast.

Cassian’s happy smile flickered in uncertainty.

“When was this decided?” Az asked, unable to help himself.

“Last night. That’s why I asked to meet you here. So I could tell you myself.”

Azriel stewed in silence. Despite what Cassian said, he couldn’t help but feel this was a conversation Rhys had purposefully chosen not to have with him.

And he had a shrewd hunch as to why.

“Stop brooding,” Cassian said, cuffing him over the head a little rougher than Azriel thought was entirely necessary. “I thought you’d be excited about this! I figured you were getting bored at the Manor, anyway.”

He frowned, his anger at Rhys momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean, bored?”

“I mean, there isn’t much good company to choose from, is there?” Cas started ticking off his fingers. “First you’ve got the one-eyed mortal who shredded your wings once. Then you have the one-eyed Fae who is related to one of the biggest pieces of shit in Prythian, and I guess also Helion, which we definitely need to discuss more later, because holy shit? Then you have Vassa, who actually seems pretty fun, but she loses points because of the whole bird thing. A friend who can only hang out at night? Nighttime is for my Nesta, not for tittering with pals over a game of cards.”

“Please don’t use the word tittering again,” Azriel said. “You can’t pull it off.”

Cassian continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted whatsoever. “And then there’s Elain. I mean, Elain is the greatest, and I know you two are good friends. But I’m sure all the garden talk gets old.”

“Excuse me?” His voice came out much darker than intended. His shadows were suddenly clinging tight to him.

Cassian blinked. “I just, I meant, you’re probably dying for some guy time, right?” He blinked innocently, clearly confused by Azriel glower.

“Elain is fantastic company,” he said through his teeth.

Cas helped up his hands. “Okay, okay! Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“It’s not me you offended. It’s your sister-in-law, remember?”

“I know,” Cassian said slowly.

“She is much more than just gardening.”

Cassian shook his head, his eyes widening. “Yeah, you’re right. Of course you’re right. That was rude of me to say.”

Azriel wanted to say something else, but Cassian was looking at him a bit too thoughtfully, a bit too suspiciously, so he got back to the task at hand.

“Why is this change happening?”

“Feyre and Rhys spoke to Lucien recently. Apparently he’s going to be away from the Manor for a while.”

That was odd. Elain hadn’t mentioned anything about Lucien’s new travel plans when she gave him an update barely three days ago. Perhaps she hadn’t known?

He frowned. “Why? And what is he going to be doing?”

“I’m not sure. But without Lucien there, it only leaves you to provide magical protection to the Manor, and you have all your little Spymaster duties to take care of, so you can’t be there all the time. Plus, given Vassa’s recent digression, and since we are getting so close to the ball, it was decided we should bulk up security anyway.”

“Was it?” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “You’d think I would have been asked for my opinion on the subject.”

Cassian looked uncharacteristically serious . “Relax, Az,” he said, not condescendingly. “Like I said - it was decided last night. I still don’t know what exactly has been making you and Rhys behave like fucking idiots, and I certainly don’t understand why it hasn’t been put to bed yet, but don’t let your personal feelings interfere with your professional ones. Rhys would never do anything that puts Velaris - that puts his family - at risk. This change was just made, and you’re finding out shortly after the fact.”

Azriel stood taut for a long moment before relaxing his wings and sighing. “That might have been the most mature thing you’ve ever said.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassian replied, offended. “I’m always mature.”

***

The Queen was avoiding her. Elain was sure of it.

Her first few weeks at the manor, she never went a day without the boisterous, bold red-head seeking her out. Whether it was to walk the grounds or have a glass of wine or sneak up on Jurian and scare him so hard he screamed (this only happened once, but was so hilarious she figured it warranted a mention), Elain spent more time with Vassa than without.

But now, the Queen was unnaturally - and suspiciously - unavailable.

The first night she returned from Velaris, Elain requested a late dinner. “Please tell Queen Vassa that I will wait up to eat with her,” she’d informed one of the servants. Despite Azriel’s advice to the contrary, she was determined to get some answers from Vassa. She figured the best course of action was to simply ply her friend with expensive wine and hope she got drunk enough and spilled whatever it was she so desperately wanted to keep a secret.

Elain waited in the dining room for three hours that night before accepting defeat.

The next evening, she tried a different tactic. The second the sun had set, Elain was at Vassa’s quarters and knocking hard on her door. After several minutes, the door finally opened. But it was another handmaiden, not her friend, who answered.

“She’s not feeling up for company,” the handmaiden said apologetically. Then she lowered her voice and widened her eyes meaningfully. “She’s been doing this a lot lately. Avoiding people.”

It was true that Vassa hadn’t been dealing with the curse’s return well. Understandably, of course. But Elain knew for a fact that Vassa hadn’t been isolating herself entirely - Azriel had said he’d visited her quarters just a few nights before. And her Fae senses could easily detect Jurian’s recent scent clinging to the silk tapestries adorning the queen’s quarters.

Elain was trying not to take it personally, but it was hard. She and Vassa had always confided in each other. They shared a bond that the others didn’t - a bond over similar traumatic experiences. Over situations out of their control that had, quite literally, altered them from the inside out. That had given them strange and uncommon abilities or “gifts” they’d never asked for, never wanted. That had caused them both to resort to hiding secrets in the deepest, darkest crevices of their souls. From the very first day she met Vassa, they had fallen into easy friendship in the simple, lovely way that only women can. No matter her hurt over the secrets Vassa was keeping from her, Elain couldn’t help but trust her.

She and Vassa understood each other, simple as that. And it was because of this innate trust and understanding that she couldn’t help but feel that whatever it was Vassa was afraid to tell her wasn’t quite that bad. Despite the initial anger she’d felt, Elain was having a difficult time imagining the queen actually withholding something dangerous or detrimental from her. She just couldn’t imagine her friend doing that.

But until Vassa told her, Elain was stuck with only her own worries and wonders.

It was also rather inconvenient that her only chance to speak with Vassa was at night, since during the day she was indisposed. Not that she blamed the queen, of course. But it was messing with her sleep schedule all the same. She was almost glad that Azriel had been off on his Spymaster duties the past few days (keyword: almost). His absence had, at least, guaranteed her nights full of uninterrupted sleep.

With nothing else to do during the daytime but stew over the unanswered questions pounding against her skull, she’d taken to practicing her powers. The past few days, she’d spent nearly all her waking hours in the conservatory, testing out different powers, pushing the limit of her magic - and discovering that, so far, the limit did not exist.

Elain was not one to brag, but if she was, she would have boasted loudly for all to hear. She was getting good. Really good.

Not only had she regrown all the flowers, trees and plants back that Koschei had so rudely destroyed - she’d added to the array, using her expert gardener’s eye to create a practical oasis in the middle of the Mortal Manor. A patch of petunias covered the vast majority of the east wing. Troves of wisteria hung over her head. The ground itself was coated with lush, spongy moss that felt like springs beneath her feet. A thick web of ivy crawled up the high stone walls and arching windows alike.

It surprised her as much as it pleased her that the better she got at controlling her magic, the stronger her magic seemed to become. It was an endless loop of buzzing, positive energy, feeding into itself and onto itself and multiplying in turn. It was the kind of power that was intoxicating and terrifying and empowering, all at the same time, and Elain loved it.

She’d just finished growing a patch of incredibly rare camellias when the lovely scent of cedar, wind and smoke engulfed her senses.

“Impressive,” Azriel said. He was standing in the shadows beneath a nearby poplar, watching her with those intense hazel eyes.

She cocked an eyebrow. Then, with a delicate flick of her fingers, a huge, tri-colored orchid appeared directly beside him.

That smug bastard didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Elain Archeron,” he said, and just like every time he said her full name, she shivered a little bit. “You might just save us all yet.”

Her responding smile may have been light and casual, but the feeling in her chest certainly wasn’t. What was it about this male and his simple, lovely words that made her heart trip over itself?

A coward in denial , she thought to herself. She knew exactly why he affected her so.

“Any updates from Velaris?” Elain asked quickly, wanting to change the subject.

Azriel may have been a pro at masking his emotions, but by now, Elain was a pro at reading him. And she could tell, in the mere second he hesitated to reply, that something of importance had occurred.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“What?”

He regarded her, still wearing a carefully blank expression that didn’t fool her one bit.

“Tell me,” she said. Softly…but also powerfully.

A tendon in his jaw ticked, and something in his energy changed ever so subtly.

“Not here,” he said, and before she could take a proper breath, he was pulling her toward the garden shed that sat at the very back of the conservatory. Elain hadn’t entered the shed in a long time - certainly not since Phillip’s death, she thought sadly - because she had not had any need for gardening tools. Not anymore. The magic in her blood, so easily stirred these days, seemed to tingle at the thought.

Azriel entered the shed first, striding her over the threshold of the shed, his massive wings flexing behind him. He was still giving off a strange aura, though what exactly was different, she couldn’t quite say.

The second the door closed, the story rushed out of him. And with each new word that fell out of Azriel’s mouth, Elain’s face fell a little more.

“When are they coming?” she asked when he’d finished, her voice steady despite the fear evident in her eyes.

He grimaced. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” she gasped.

He nodded.

“But we can’t have that!” she cried. “I mean,” she cleared her throat, lowering her voice, “logistically speaking.”

“Logistically speaking?” he raised an eyebrow, causing a blush to immediately dust over her lightly-freckled cheeks.

“Yes.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What logistics are you referring to?”

“Well, I mean, my training, of course,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s just, you know, I’m just, I’m still not ready for the others to know about my magic.”

Well, the whole “secret powers'' situation was a can of worms Azriel simply didn’t have the energy - nor the desire - to get into right now. Further than that, though, he could tell that Elain wasn’t telling the truth - or the entire truth, more likely. And it didn’t take a wizard to discern why.

Her wide, worried eyes, the nervous pitter-pattering of her heart, the way her fingers were unconsciously twisting themselves together over and over again…she was afraid. Afraid of what this change meant, not for her training, but for them . Afraid of how Mor and Cassian’s presence would affect what they had.

Azriel, who had thought of practically nothing else since hearing of the new situation himself, completely understood her distress. He’d felt the same way, at first. No, this situation was definitely not ideal. Yes, it was going to be a hell of an adjustment. And yeah, it was going to be difficult. He knew it as well as she, an undeniable fact.

But there was also an unshakeable certainty burning inside him that assuaged all these initial fears. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he and Elain were made for the shadows; as an entity, as a couple , they had always been forced to exist only in the dark, liminal slices of time, surviving only because they kept defeating every barrier that stood in their way, lasting only because they did not cower in the darkness but faced it head-on.

This newest obstacle was just another to knock down. It was just going to be a little bit harder now. But he had no doubt that they would find a way to see each other. He would simply not allow anything to the contrary.

He wasn’t ready to give her up yet.

Elain’s anxious face swam back into focus. So he decided to ease her worries - and assuage his own desires - and to have a bit of fun for both of them.

“Oh, your training ,” he said. “Silly me for thinking of another illicit activity entirely.” He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t. I’m not very good at picking up on context clues.”

“Says the Spymaster with supersonic hearing.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

His eyes immediately flicked to her chest.

“Wipe that smirk off your face before I wipe it off for you,” Elain said.

His grin grew wider. She was in a feisty mood today. “Is that a promise?” he purred.

She huffed dramatically. “You’re annoying when you smirk,” she said childishly.

Quick as a snake, he pulled her flush against him.

“You’re annoying when you snore at night,” he said.

Elain’s face went hot. “I do not snore!”

“You do.” He nipped at her nose. “Every night.” His teeth grazed her jaw this time, sending an unwilling rush of heat through her. “Without fail.”

“I do not snore, Azriel,” she repeated hotly, surreptitiously squeezing her thighs together.

“I can’t believe your sisters never told you! Didn’t the three of you share a bed for years?” He laughed at the indignant look on her face, incensing her further.

“I loathe you,” she said crossly.

He ran his hands through her hair, then cupped her face, his thumb lightly tracing her bottom lip. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “But I did lie. It’s not annoying when you snore.” His mouth was now mere inches from hers, so close she could taste his sweet breath. “It’s fucking adorable .”

When she scowled, he started laughing again.

She shoved at him. Humoring her, he fell back onto the low work table behind him, still chuckling. Then, to his surprise (and, quite honestly, her own), she straddled him, one lithe leg at a time.

***

At the first roll of her hips, his laughter guttered out.

“Am I adorable when I do this?” she asked, studying his face closely.

The muscles in Azriel’s jaw tightened. “Not the word I’d use.”

“No?” She repeated the motion, feeling him harden beneath her. “What word would you use, then?” Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck with her nose, then replaced the touch with her lips. Softly kissed the knot on his throat. “What about…sweet?”

“No. Though you are very sweet, in every sense of the word.” As if in emphasis, he buried his face in her curls and inhaled deeply.

Elain blushed, grateful that her face was still hidden in the crook of his shoulder. She did not want to display any semblance of embarrassment. Elain wasn’t quite sure what boldness had come over her, but she knew that this was her moment to have him, not the other way around, and she did not want to give him any reason to take back the power. Not when it so rarely belonged to her. Not when he would, inevitably, take control again, and soon. She knew his tells well enough by now, knew that he could only handle someone else holding the reins for a few moments before he took them for himself.

But even if he could never admit it out loud, she also knew how much it turned him on when she took control. Even if just for a little while.

A shudder went through his entire body as she licked up his throat. Her mouth watered at the delectable tang of the thin film of sweat coating his body - and now her tongue - tangible proof of the significant effect she had on him.

“What about…lovely?” she murmured, ghosting her lips over his.

“You are so fucking lovely,” he said, eyes dark and dangerous. “But no. That’s not the word I was thinking of, either.”

Elain frowned. He was still forming complete, coherent sentences. He was still looking at her with clear hazel eyes. Which meant he was nowhere close to where she wanted him to be.

So she tugged at his shirt in a silent request. Watched as he pulled it over those massive, powerful wings and tossed it to the dirt-strewn floor, neither of them caring or even remembering where they were. She ran her hands across his golden, muscled torso the second he yanked it off, her eyes wide. Sidled further down, placing her lips lovingly, adoringly, on each taut ripple of abs. Gods have mercy. His body was a fucking treasure. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to see it, feel it, worship it.

Azriel was heaving in earnest now, his bare chest rising and falling with a cacophonic cadence. When her fingers dipped below the waistband of his pants, he let out a tortured groan.

Better , she thought, grinning to herself. Without letting herself hesitate, she slid to her knees and boldly pulled down both his pants and underwear. Her mouth fell open as his thick length escaped its confines, standing straight to attention and throbbing in anticipation.

She’d seen his cock before, of course. Felt it in her hands. Inside her body. But at this angle, so close, the sheer size of him struck her anew. Gods. He was utterly magnificent.

A bead of liquid formed at the top of his manhood. She eyed it, feeling slightly nervous but mostly greedy. She licked her lips. Then she licked down the center of her palm.

Azriel let out a strangled moan. Flicking her eyes up, she was pleased to see a dizzy, overwhelmed expression on his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he croaked out, and no words had ever sounded more forced.

“But what if I want to?” she asked, widening her eyes innocently before wrapping a hand around him. She clenched her fist a little harder than intended, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind.

“Holy fuck,” he said, throwing his head back against the mattress. His whole body was shaking - with restraint, eagerness, or pure and unadulterated lust, she wasn’t sure. She hoped it was a sinful mixture of the three.

She continued to stroke him, taking her time to admire the gorgeous specimen before her, learning what he liked. The harder she squeezed, the more noises of pleasure he made; when she accidentally scraped her nails down him, his hips thrust up and a choked sound came from his throat. She smiled softly, and the next time her nails grazed him, it was entirely intentional.

“You’re so big,” she mused a few minutes later, mostly to herself. The rock-hard member in her hand twitched in response.

“ Elain ,” he moaned. “Stop torturing me.”

Elain did not deign to reply. Instead she sent him a crooked, wicked smile and leaned forward. Her mouth was now mere inches away from his pulsing length. He growled in anticipation.

“We never came to a decision,” she said.

“What?”

“We never decided what word accurately describes me,” she said, still moving her fist up and down, up and down. “But I think I know.” She leaned forward. “What about…” she poked her tongue out and gently licked the tip. “ Generous ?”

A great shudder worked its way through Azriel’s body, and then he was tugging her forward by the hair. “Fucking gods, Elain,” he said in a dark, grating voice. “Put your mouth on me. Now .”

Elain glanced up at him, a bit of shyness slipping through her otherwise confident exterior for the first time since she’d rolled her hips into his rock-hard lap. “Tell me what feels good, okay?”

Before he could even begin formulating a response, she wrapped her mouth around the tip and sucked. Hard. A deliciously strangled sound crawled from the back of his throat.

“That, honey, that feels so good,” he said.

Slowly but eagerly, she continued sucking him, taking him a little deeper with each new head bob, her hand covering the part of his length that her mouth couldn’t reach.

“Is this your first time doing this?” he asked, panting. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and, without taking her mouth off his cock, nodded.

He groaned. “You’re too much. You’re too perfect.” His hazel eyes gazed fiercely into her own. Long, cool fingers grabbed her hair like reins, urging her forward once again. And this time, she took him as deep as her throat allowed.

She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. As his mouth dropped open in a silent cry of pleasure. Even when she gagged slightly, she didn’t retreat until he guided her backward.

“Fuck,” he growled. Then he got to his feet, those mighty wings of his spanning from one end of the shed to the other. He tugged lightly on her shoulders, beckoning her to stand with him. “Let me taste you, too,” he said.

Mother above, this male was sexier than anyone had a right to be. And though his offer was quite tempting, she wasn’t finished playing with him. Gods, no. She wasn’t even close.

Ignoring him, she moved forward again, putting as much of him inside her mouth as she possibly could. She tightened her fist around the base and pumped in time with the motion of her throat, hard and steady.

Immediately, Azriel abandoned any notion of doing something else; instead, he just abandoned himself to her , wrapping her hair tight around his fist. The thought itself was enough to send a new rush of wetness to slicken her thighs.

For a while, he let her set the pace; she curiously bobbed up and down his length, pausing every once in a while to lick down the shaft or to suck solely on the head. He let her know how he was feeling the entire time.

“Gods, that’s good,” he said, or “You have the sweetest little mouth,” or “That’s my girl.” The more he praised her, the wetter she became, until she was unwittingly grinding her core against his leg, desperate to sate the pulsing ache between her thighs but still determined to bring him to climax with just her mouth.

She let out a moan of her own at how delicious he tasted, at how much she loved making him feel so good. How much she loved stoking the flames burning between them. Loved pushing him to his very limits. Loved looking at him and touching him and being with him, and oh, oh, oh . She just loved him so very, very much.

“I’m close,” he grunted out.

Everything began moving faster - her throat, her hand, her tongue - as she worked to bring him to the edge.

“Elain, if you don’t move soon, I’m going to come in your mouth,” he gritted out. He was unbelievably close; hanging on by a damn thread.

Those big brown eyes blinked up at him. His cock twitched in response. Fuck , what was it about her innocence that turned him on so much?

Then, without breaking eye contact, she nodded once.

Oh gods. He wasn’t going to survive her, was he?

“You don’t have to,” he said for the second time that night, even though his manhood was so hard it hurt. Even though he wanted nothing more than to watch her swallow his seed, watch her try and take everything he gave her.

“I want to,” she murmured, tracing her lips against the tip of his cock as she spoke, and the vibration sent a new rush of pleasure through him. Her eyes were wide and sincere and fucking intoxicating. “I want it all, Az.”

“ Fuck ,” he rasped out. “Beg me.”

She nodded earnestly, lashes fluttering. “ Please .” She gave a particularly hard suck. “Please, please give it to me.”

Azriel’s restrained snapped. Widening his stance slightly, he tightened the grip of his fingers tangled in her hair and, with an almighty thrust, shoved himself down her throat. With nowhere else to go, her hands clutched onto the backs of his thighs, hanging on for dear life. He repeated the motion over and over again, his pace relentless, his force unforgiving, his lust greater than ever before.

“Always so polite,” he said, the words closer to a growl than anything, “always so courteous. Even when you’re choking on my cock. Even when you’re begging me to fill you up with my cum.”

She let out a little whimper at that. The sound vibrated pleasantly against his thick length. He was awestruck at the way she took him down her throat with such adoration; with a reverence he’d never known before, even as he ruthlessly rammed in and out of her mouth.

It seemed a miracle that he was still going, though he knew the end was drawing close, knew it like he knew shadows and darkness and death. “Tell me, Elain,” he said, “Will you use those pretty manners to show your gratitude when I shoot my load down your throat? Will you tell me thank you as my cum is spilling from your perfect little mouth?”

Her answer came as a wicked twist of the lips, and then the lightest scratch of teeth against his rock-hard manhood - and he was absolutely done for. With an almighty roar, he shoved his hips forward one final time and came hard, stars and supernovas and planets exploding behind his eyelids.

It took several moments for him to regain his composure. By the time he did, he was bent over at the waist and breathing embarrassingly hard. He glanced down. Below him, still kneeling between his legs, was Elain. She was looking at him, too. He’d never seen such a gorgeous sight as Elain Archeron on her knees, spit dripping down her chin - or so he thought until a mere moment later when, without blinking, she swallowed, his ample release working its way down her slender, creamy throat.

He growled, low and deep. Despite the earth-shattering and balls-draining orgasm he’d just had, his cock went semi-hard. He wanted her again already, and he would want her after this next time, too, and the time after that; he could see himself wanting her for all of eternity.

Elain licked her lips. Then she smiled as she closed her eyes, as if savoring the taste.

It was the last straw. So quickly she gasped, he tugged her up, not roughly but certainly not gently, and kissed her deeper than the sea. She kissed him back just as eagerly, palming his face between her hands, desperate to get closer to him somehow, even though they were pressed against each other so tightly she did not know where she ended and he began -

The shed door opened with a bang. Azriel and Elain sprung back from each other and whipped around toward the source of the interruption.

There, standing in the doorway, wearing an expression equivalent to that of someone recently hit over the head with a frying pan, was Cassian.

#elriel #acotar #elrielfic #acotarfic #elain #azriel #acotarsmut #elrielsmut #post acosf #elriel interrupted!!!#tsts #danydragons21

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danydragons21 · 2 years ago

Text

The Shadows that Sing Ch. 30

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 30: The Day Court Part 2

Under different circumstances, Elain would have enjoyed being in the High Lord of the Day Court’s personal study. Opulent marble coated the floor; the walls were lined with majestic columns and arching windows that revealed a stunning view of the Day Court territory; a chandelier made entirely of delicate glass hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the surroundings in shimmery light. It was as lovely as the rest of the Court.

As it was, the only reason they were here was because they’d fucked up—badly—and were now being savagely (and deservingly) berated for it, so Elain found it difficult to fully appreciate the impressive architecture.

Helion was pacing back and forth in agitation, the gold trim of his pure white robes sweeping over the marble as he did so. Before him stood Lucien and Elain, their heads bowed slightly like two children who’d gotten caught doing something naughty. Behind them were Feyre and Ishira, who for whatever reason had insisted on coming along.

“You were welcomed into our Court with open arms, you were given access to our libraries, and yet you decided that was not good enough,” Helion said, continuing on his rant that had already lasted several minutes. “You decided to take advantage of our hospitality and venture into areas prohibited to guests!”

Elain gulped. “I can understand that,” she said in a meek voice, “But to be fair, there was no one or nothing that told us we were specifically weren’t allowed to follow any secret passages we might find.”

The High Lord glared at her with such ferocity that she felt herself shrink backwards a little.

“The Caverns of the Keepers hold some of Day Court’s most honored and classified troves of knowledge,” the High Lord said hotly. “It’s not only disrespectful in the highest degree to take it upon yourself to peruse through the caverns—it is forbidden.”

Feeling small and useless, Elain spoke in an even quieter voice. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. I was just following the voices in my head.”

It took only a second after speaking for her to register how positively insane she sounded. From Helion’s wary look, she was sure he was thinking precisely the same thing.

“Ishira told us that we were meant to come down there,” said Lucien, speaking for the first time since entering the High Lord’s study. “I understand that we broke your rules or whatever, and we are sorry, but clearly this is something that was destined to happen.” He shrugged in that casually confident way of his. “When both a Seer and a Flame Keeper receive intelligence from higher powers that force them to meet, it seems like it’s something that should be forgiven. Especially in light of the bigger problem here that we are all trying to solve.”

A snarl formed on Helion's face. “How insolent,” he seethed. “Both of you,” he nodded toward Elain, “are young and foolish and irresponsible— ”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Lucien fiercely.

Helion strode forward until he was face to face with Lucien.

“I’ll talk to her however I want in my own home when—”

But as Helion lifted his arm in an angry gesture, Lucien seemed to take it as a threat, rather than just the way the High Lord was talking expressively, and he raised his hand in response.

A beam of golden light exploded from Helion’s outstretched hand at the same time a lick of crimson fire came from Lucien’s. Both looking utterly shocked, as if they had no control over the magic whatsoever.

Though Elain knew that the magic emitted by Helion couldn’t possibly be fire (it was, after all, a gift of the Autumn Court), she couldn’t help but think that the High Lord’s glowing beam looked suspiciously like a flame, mimicking Lucien’s own so very closely.

The flame and not-flame danced together, twisting and curling in a way reminiscent of Azriel’s shadows, wrapping around each other as tightly as a lover’s embrace and burning bright as the Night Court stars before vanishing into utterly nothing.

A chill of realization ghosted across the nape of her neck as a memory—no, a vision— from months ago swam to the forefront of her mind. This was not the first time she had seen the dancing flames.

“What the bloody hells was that?” Elain surprised even herself by asking, but she could hold the question in no more than she could ignore the sense of foreboding growing stronger with every passing moment.

No one replied. Confused, frustrated, and slightly concerned at the lack of response, she studied each of her companions’ visages. Lucien looked as stunned and puzzled as she; Ishira had an expression of grim acceptance; Helion was absolutely frozen, his eyes wide as saucers. She wasn’t even sure that he was breathing.

But it was Feyre who confirmed Elain’s suspicions that something incredibly meaningful had just occurred. And it was Feyre, her sister, who she knew better than almost anyone else in the world, standing there with the strangest look of anguish, resignation and apology written across her face, who spoke next.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “This is not how I wanted you to find out.” Her eyes, wide and beseeching, swiveled back and forth between Helion and Lucien.

“Find out what?” the red-haired male demanded, his vexation now mixed with frustration. Helion, on the other hand, remained in his state of shellshock; he had yet to move a single inch.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, Ishira cut her off.

“What you’ve just seen is a rare, albeit not unheard of, magical manifestation that occurs in the most unique of circumstances.”

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured under her breath, closing her eyes.

“Precisely,” the Flame Keeper said.

“What might those unique circumstances be?” Elain asked slowly, but Ishira had turned to look at the male beside her.

“Lord Lucien,” she said, “You have been told a lie your entire life. You are not the son of Beron Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

A heavy, pulsing silence reverberated through the room.

“What?” he breathed finally. Then he shook his head. “What are you playing at? Of course he’s my father.”

But Ishira shook her head right back. “He is not, Lord Lucien,” she said. “Yes, your mother is the lovely Lady Elvinye of the Autumn Court.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Helion finally move, his whole body shuddering when the Flame Keeper said Lucien’s mother’s name. But Elain did not turn her attention to him; she could not keep her eyes off Lucien. Something in her very blood told her that to leave him unattended at this moment would be a grave mistake.

“But your father—your true father—is none other than High Lord Helion of the Day Court,” Ishira’s clear voice rang out.

All the breath vanished from Elain’s lungs. She felt the thread in her chest grow taut as across from her, Lucien went utterly still.To her right, Helion’s head collapsed into his hands, a position of sorrowful defeat.

Her head was spinning with questions. Lucien was Helion’s son? Helion? How could that be? If his mother was truly the Lady of the Autumn Court…did that mean Helion and Elvinye had once been together?

Most importantly, what did this mean for Lucien? And what would his “father,” Beron, do if he were to ever find out?

The thread in her chest tugged again, pulling her from her thoughts. She focused on Lucien. He wore an expression of the utmost animosity, his teeth gnashing together.

“Is that true?” he demanded, looking straight at Helion. Slowly, the High Lord removed his hands from his face.

“I…It’s possible,” he finally croaked out.

The anger on Lucien’s face became even more pronounced. “It’s possible ?” he repeated in a low growl. Then he turned to Feyre. “You knew about this?”

“I suspected, yes,” she said, her voice rather hoarse.

“For how long?”

Briefly, she closed her eyes; when the youngest Archeron sister opened them again, tears swam in the blue depths.

“For a while,” she answered honestly. “That’s why I came here. To tell Helion of my suspicions.” She grimaced. “Of my very strong hunch.”

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Helion asked angrily. “We’ve been together for hours today, doing nothing of importance.”

“I was working up the courage.”

“The courage?” Helion repeated incredulously. “We spent three hours petting the pegasi, for godssake!”

Elain turned to her sister. “You saw the pegasi without me?” she practically wailed.

“Now is not the time, Elain,” her sister hissed. Elain closed her mouth. She had a point.

“You didn’t think to tell me before, perhaps?” Lucien said angrily to Feyre, his voice harder than she’d ever heard it. “As your longest friend here in this Fae world, you didn’t think it was something I deserved to know?”

“I had to know if it was absolutely true before I told you,” said Feyre pleadingly. “I know I messed up. I know I should have been more proactive about getting to the bottom of it. But if you believe anything, you must know that I had no intention of hurting you—of hurting either of you,” she added to Helion. “This is not how I wanted you to find out. And I’m so, so sorry for it.”

Lucien scoffed and then directed his attention to Elain. And while the anger blazed in his eyes for a brief moment, the longer he looked at her, the dimmer that flame became, until suddenly it was replaced entirely by an undeniable exhaustion. A tiredness that seemed to emanate from his very core.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, once again speaking without truly thinking about what she was going to say.

But she knew she’d said the right thing when he nodded right back at her. “Yes,” he answered.

“Go to the Night Court,” Feyre said. When Elain met her gaze, she saw both her younger sister and High Lady staring back. “Please,” she added softly.

Elain nodded once. Where else would they go, after all—the Mortal Manor, where Vassa and Azriel were, two people she was hesitant to speak to for different reasons, and where they would not be expected to return so soon? The Autumn Court, where Lucien wasn’t even a full-blooded heir, if the crazy secrets revealed in the last few minutes were to be believed? Where else besides the Night Court would they be safe?

She nodded stiffly at her sister. Lucien crossed the room and grabbed her hand.

The last thing she saw before they winnowed away was Ishira staring at her with a meaningful look on her wise, ageless face.

Talk to the Queen , the Flame Keeper mouthed. Then she tapped the center of her chest three times.

Before Elain could do so much as blink back, they were winnowing away, twisting between the folds of time and space.

Mere seconds later, they stood in the foyer of the River House. Dropping her hand, Lucien let out a bone-weary sigh. Her heart clenched in sympathy at the defeated look on his face.

She straightened up. “Wait here,” she said. A few minutes later, she returned to find him still standing in the same spot, clearly not having moved even an inch in her temporary absence.

She held up two large bottles of wine. “Want to forget about all this shit for a little while?”

The corner of his lips turned up in the smallest possible smile, but she was thrilled—a smile was a smile, and she had succeeded in putting one on her friend’s face against all odds.

“I’ve never wanted to forget anything more,” he replied.

***

A few hours and several bottles of wine later, Elain and Lucien were wonderfully drunk and roaming through the Night Court garden. It was full of winter blooms, which naturally were not as bright and vibrant as their summer cousins, but she found them just as enchanting. She wasn’t sure who had been tending to the garden in her absence and was equal parts pleased and sad about it—pleased that the plants were being cared for, sad that they thrived just as well without her. She knew it was a silly thing to be sad about, but she couldn’t help it.

Thankfully, she had much more important things to worry about. Like the red-haired male at her side, who was significantly drunker than she, and had taken to singing randomly at the top of his lungs.

“Stop!” she said at the end of a particularly painful rendition of "The Fae Who Got Away," even as she laughed at his antics.

“You don’t like my voice?” he asked, mock-offended.

“No, I do not tend to enjoy the sound of a dying squirrel.”

He laughed loudly in response, then started swaying slightly.

“Ooookay, let’s find a place to sit,” she said, tugging him toward a nearby bench. He plopped down, uncorking the half-full bottle in his hand and chugging.

Sitting next to him, Elain curled her legs beneath her and gazed up at the sky. It was quite late in the day, or perhaps early in the morning; it had been early evening when they were still at the Day Court, though that had been hours ago, so she couldn’t imagine what time it was now. But she wasn’t tired at all, the wild events of the day keeping her mind busy and her stimulation piqued.

“What am I supposed to do next?” Lucien asked out of nowhere. He seemed to have shed the drunken lightness like a second skin and now wore a forlorn and dejected demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he took another gulp of wine as he gathered his thoughts, “What in the bloody hells am I supposed to do next? Do I tell anyone? Do I tell no one? Do I start referring to Helion as Daddy?”

The snickered together, though Lucien’s expression sobered up quickly.

“Do I let my mother know that I know the truth of my heritage, the truth she has kept from me all my life?” Some of his sadness was replaced with anger as he shook his head. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

“She was trying to protect you.”

“I know that. Gods, I know that. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

“No. No, it doesn’t,” she agreed quietly.

For a while, they both sat in silence, sipping on wine and lost in their own thoughts. Soft Fae lights were strung through the branches of the trees that formed a sort of canopy above the bench, casting a warm glow over them.

“You should ask the voices in your head what I’m supposed to do,” Lucien said.

She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t think it works like that.”

He sighed and faced her fully. “I didn’t think so, either. Worth a try though, eh?”

She smiled wider. She admired her friend - she really did. Even in the face of such a life-changing discovery, even after finding out that his entire existence has been a half-lie, he still tried to keep things light and humorous. Sure, it was most likely a defense mechanism, but she liked it all the same.

Elain was suddenly distracted by his eyes. They were really quite enchanting, one russet, one gold and mechanical. She admired them for a moment unabashedly, feeling as bold as the wine she’d been drinking all night.

“You’re staring at me,” he said.

“I am,” she agreed. It would be silly to deny it.

The enchanting eyes in question widened at her response. “What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You almost never look at me. At least not like that. Not so…fully.”

She blinked, his honesty scalding as boiling water. Just as painful was the knowledge that there was a kernel of truth in the statement. Whether it was the wine or the guilt she felt, she decided to return his honesty with a little of her own.

“I know,” she replied finally. “I am...sometimes I look at you, and I feel like I am drowning.”

“Drowning in the cauldron?” Lucien asked quietly.

Elain stilled. Breathe , she reminded herself.

“Yes,” she whispered. “That, and also just drowning in you .”

“I can relate to that,” he said, shifting a bit and glancing away. A thick swallow worked its way down his throat. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To feel so connected to someone that you don’t know that well?”

She nodded in response, watching two fireflies circle each other. “We know each other now, though,” she said. “But you’re right. It was so strange to feel that…that tug in my belly, that indescribable pull, the very second we made eye contact that night. It feels like that moment just changed everything, you know?” She was talking mostly to herself at this point, contemplating and reflecting on how that evening in Hybern had turned her entire world upside down. But here she was on the other side, still alive, still moving forward. Stronger and surer of herself than ever before.

Lucien’s soft voice pulled her from her contemplation.

“Elain,” he said. When she looked at him again, she was shocked to see tears falling swiftly from his one good eye. “I have never truly apologized for that night. Though I swear to you that I had no idea Hybern was planning on doing that to you and your sister…” He inhaled sharply, and through the bond she felt his guilt, heavy and suffocating.

“I am so sorry. For the Cauldron. For the things I said when the time was clearly not right. For all of it.” He was still crying, his regret palpable. Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his hand. Watched as he froze when she began rubbing her thumb over his palm in small, soothing circles.

“I forgive you,” she said. “I forgave you a long time ago, actually.”

He smiled then, gratitude glowing in his eyes, and she found herself smiling back. They continued to smile at each other as Lucien intertwined his fingers with her own. The fae lights hanging overhead reflected against his brilliant crimson hair; for a moment, he looked luminescent.

“Growing up Fae…you hear about mates as if they are legends,” Lucien mused. “Myths, practically. That might not make sense to you, since both your sisters are mated, but it’s true. Mates are so rare, so precious. I never expected to find mine. And…and after I met Jesminda, I never really wanted to,” he admitted in a rushed whisper, as if he didn’t know if he should be mentioning his deceased lover.

“I heard what happened to her,” she said quietly, watching as Lucien stiffened. “To your…to Jesminda.” A pause. “I cannot imagine the pain and sorrow you endured. That you continue to endure. As someone who has lost a loved one, too…I know that just because they are gone, it does not mean the love you feel for them is gone. If anything, it just exacerbates it. Brings it into higher definition.”

The red-haired male inclined his head. “Exactly,” he said. “It took decades for me to even look at another female after her death. And it took even longer for me to feel anything more than lust or physical desire for one.”

“When I became Fae, and Greyson did not want me anymore, I was convinced I’d never love again,” she confessed. Almost involuntarily, the corners of her mouth turned up. “How glad I am that I was wrong.”

Something flashed in Lucien’s eyes at that, and maybe if Elain wasn’t so tipsy, she would’ve realized her slip-up. Would have realized the danger of her words. Would have realized she was a liar and a sneak and a spy , and she had just accidentally divulged a threateningly-personal piece of information. For either Lucien would assume she was talking about him… or he’d discover she was talking about someone else.

As it was, though, Elain did not realize any of this. She continued smiling in blissful unawareness.

Lucien’s face had gone rather slack. “It was you, you know,” he breathed.

“What?” she replied, just as breathlessly, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his gaze. They were moving closer together, their chests nearly touching, drawn like magnets. She could count every freckle on his nose.

“You were the first female that made me realize I could…could feel that way again. Could love again.”

Elain sucked in a breath, apprehension mixing with something different, something far more dangerous. The rational half of her brain told her to run. The other half—the half ruled primarily by the aching in her chest that had been there since the day of Cassian’s healing—begged her to move closer.

“I took one look at you,” he whispered, “and I just knew.” Her heart was pounding. Those words...wasn’t that what every girl wanted to hear?

They were so close now she could taste his warm, sweet breath. What would it hurt, she thought, to give in to this? To finally allow that thread within her to pull her toward what it so clearly wanted?

Just one kiss, she thought, head heavy with wine and want. Just one kiss, to see what it was like.

But as she began to close the distance between them, her eyelids drooping down in tandem with Lucien’s, something caught her attention. Their two figures, bent forward and nearly intertwined, were backlit against the fae-lights, creating a shadow that spanned across the ground.

Shadow .

It was with a great, heaving gasp that she pulled away, her entire body suddenly cold. Her hands covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She would have liked to say it in a normal voice, but her throat didn’t seem to be working right.

Confusion and hurt warred across Lucien’s golden face. All he said though was, “It’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No. No, you shouldn’t. Please, don’t apologize to me.” She stood up. “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a reply, she raced away, thankfully encountering no one else on the way. When she finally reached her bedroom, she collapsed on the bed, stuffed a pillow beneath her face and screamed.

Why couldn’t she just be happy with Lucien? Why did the sight of a goddamn shadow make her feel guilty for nearly kissing someone who was as single as she - the same someone that the stupid godsdamned Cauldron had decided was meant for her?

If she was smarter, if she wasn’t so drawn to an emotionally unavailable shadowsinger who had yet to explicitly admit his feelings for her, none of this would be an issue. If she didn’t let her heart make every damn decision, she wouldn’t be feeling so hollow and helpless. Wouldn’t have hurt someone else in the process.

Fucking Azriel. She should have known she'd never be able to get him out of her head.

***

Elain remained at the Night Court the next day, opting to return to the Mortal Manor the day afterwards in order to spend some much needed time with Nyx. Feyre had arrived back from the Day Court at some point the previous evening but had wisely given Lucien some much-needed space, so Elain still didn’t know how the rest of her conversation with Helion went.

Speaking of the red-haired male, Elain had not seen him since her disastrous departure in the garden. She expected he was avoiding her. She certainly could not blame him for that, and was secretly glad of it—she, too, needed some time to consider just how to approach the situation. Merely thinking about their almost-kiss had her stomach hurting like she was about to start her period (which, ever since she turned Fae, was quite possibly the most painful thing she’d ever experienced).

Thankfully, Nyx was the best cure for her stress. After a day full of belly kisses and baking cookies and trying to keep him from flying into the walls (she succeeded, for the most part), she felt infinitely better, and tucked Nyx into bed that night with a weight lifted off her shoulders.

She had just entered her bedroom and was looking forward to washing her face and curling up with a book when there was a light knock at her door.

Assuming it was Feyre with Nyx, who almost always requested multiple goodnight kisses from his Auntie Elain, she opened the door with a playful smile on her face.

It vanished almost immediately as she beheld Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, hating the way her mind went to the previous night with Lucien, beneath the fae lights, and even though technically nothing had happened…heavy guilt churned through her belly.

The corner of his jaw ticked nervously. “Well, Lucien arrived back at the Mortal Manor early this morning. Said you and Feyre were in the Night Court and then left immediately after to go gods-know-where.”

She nodded slowly, then frowned. “If you’re here, who’s guarding the Mortal Manor?”

“Mor,” he replied, surprising her. Then, to her greater shock, he blushed. “I, well, Vassa seemed like she could use a girl friend to talk to, and I’ve always thought she and Mor would get along great, and Mor has been wanting a break from Valhalla for a while now -”

“So you set them up,” she asked, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from turning upward as Azriel blushed even deeper, the high contours of his cheeks a dusty rose color.

Her good humor was short lived as she remembered the awkward tension that still lingered between the two of them. The small smile on her face disappeared, replaced with wariness.

Sensing her change in demeanor, Azriel grew somber. “ Elain,” he said in a rough voice that reverberated through her body all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

She closed her eyes. It was truly unfair how his very presence affected her so significantly. She was trying so, so hard to be aloof. Cool and collected.

Thankfully, despite his affect on her, she said nothing. She would not give him the words he so desperately sought. He knew better than to expect her to fill in the blanks for him.

“Can we talk? Please?”

“We are talking,” she replied evenly.

“Somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“I want a chance to apologize. In depth, this time.”

“Apologize for what?” she said calmly, lips slightly numb. “The cruel and unwarranted words you said to me, or the way you threw my insecurities back in my face?”

Azriel swallowed. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, all of that.”

She gave no reaction, just continued to look at him with those big brown eyes.

“Elain, he said again, and maybe he was a selfish bastard for using her name (because he knew the effect it had on her), but he would do anything to win her back right now. Would throw all his cards on the table.

“Do you remember that day in Rosehall? When I told you why my mother cannot speak.”

“Yes,” she said after a moment.

“I never finished the story.”

She blinked, her surprise evident, but she remained silent.

“I’d like to tell you now, though. Will you please go somewhere with me to hear it?”

“Where?”

He held out a hand. She eyed it for a long moment.

A thick swallow worked its way down the column of his elegant throat. “Trust me?” he asked quietly, a vulnerability in his expression that she’d never seen before.

Oh, gods. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling her resolve crumble around her.

Besides, there was only one honest answer.

She opened her eyes. And she took his hand.

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danydragons21 · 3 years ago

Text

TSTS Chapter 29: The Day Court Pt. 1

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 29: The Day Court Part 1

The moment they arrived at the Day Court, an attendant approached her. “Lady Archeron, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the first of our libraries so you may begin your…research project,” the attendant finished uncertainly.

“The first of your libraries?” Elain repeated, the barest hint of incredulity ringing in her voice. “How many are there?”

“Hundreds,” a booming voice responded. Elain glanced up to see Helion striding down the sweeping staircase of the entrance hall, a broad smile on his face. He gave Feyre a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the Day Court, all of you,” he beamed. “I was excited to hear you would be coming to visit.”

“Sorry - did you say you have hundreds of libraries?” Lucien asked.

“Yes,” Helion replied. “Some larger than others, of course…but yes, hundreds. Most are organized by topic or the century in which they were written. Do you have any guidance on the information you are hoping to find? Perhaps then we can direct you to the most likely library that will contain that information.”

Elain blinked. “Um…to be honest, I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for,” she confessed. “I had a vision, you see, in one of your libraries. It had dark mahogany wood and huge, arching windows and intricate gold detailing and-”

“That sounds like the Hall of the Hallowed,” interrupted Helion. “One of our largest collections, located in one of our tallest towers. It primarily contains books about curses, spells and hexes throughout the last few millennia.”

“All that fun stuff,” Lucien muttered under his breath.

Helion clapped his hands together and gestured at the attendant. “Finneal here can take the three of you to the Hall at once.”

“Actually, Helion, I was hoping to speak to you in private,” Feyre said.

“Were you now?” Helion asked, a tone of surprise in his voice.

It mimicked Elain’s own. Hadn’t Feyre said that she had business to attend to with the Day Court? If so, why wouldn’t Helion have been aware of this business beforehand? Was it “secret” business, and if so, why would Feyre not fill Elain and Lucien in?

Before she could contemplate on it any further, the attendant beckoned to them. Elain looked questioningly at her sister.

“I will catch up with you later,” Feyre promised. Maybe she was imagining it, but the High Lady’s face looked rather pale.

Feeling like she was missing something important, but not sure what else she could do, Elain simply nodded and let the attendant lead her and Lucien down a spacious hallway.

***

A common misconception about Azriel was that he liked being alone.

He was the Spymaster, after all, a position that required him to spend hours and hours on end in solitude, and so others often assumed that this seclusion was something he enjoyed - or, at the very least, found pleasantly comfortable. Add in his quiet voice, rather shy nature and inability to express his emotions in a robust way, and everyone simply thought he’d prefer to be alone than in the company of his chosen family and friends.

But none of that was accurate. In fact, it was the very opposite that held true: Azriel hated being alone.

He despised it, the quiet. The silence. The suffocating weight of solitude.

If his childhood had taught him anything, it was the damning power of isolation. Half his youth was spent in the cellar beneath his father’s home, ensconced in darkness, with no one to talk to but himself. So Azriel knew only too well how dangerous loneliness could be; knew how it could twist your sanity and warp reality and build your desperation to cataclysmic levels.

He was about five years old when his shadows first appeared to him. He still cannot explain why one day they were just there, as much a part of him as his limbs, like they had been there all along. And maybe they had; Az would be the first to claim that he did not fully understand the ins and outs of shadowsinging. But he had long harbored a secret belief that his shadows came as a result of his intense loneliness, of his desperate desire for someone to speak to during the endless hours in that wretched basement. The shadows heard his call for companionship - and they answered.

Now, no matter where he goes, he is never alone. He is never faced with deafening silence, not when his shadows are there to whisper to him.

But when things get too quiet, his uneasiness returns - such as now, as he roams the strangely hushed halls of the Mortal Manor alone, his shadows swirling around him but not uttering a sound.

Shortly after Elain and Feyre had left for the Day Court (Vanserra clutching the elder sister’s hand as they winnowed away like he had any goddamn right to, Azriel thought angrily), Rhys, Nesta and Cassian had departed as well, returning to Velaris.

Rhys and Nesta had both tried to insist that Cassian wait a few more days before participating in something as risky as winnowing, but Cassian would have none of it. Truthfully, they didn’t have much basis for an argument: Cassian was healthier than ever, Elain’s powers having cured him entirely and wholly. Not that the others knew that last part, of course.

If he and Elain were on good terms - if hadn’t fucked things up so badly - he would have sat her down and advised her to share the extent of her powers with the rest of their court. He would promise to respect whatever decision she made, of course, and he would never threaten or coerce her into it, but after Cassian’s “miraculous” recovery, he knew it was only a matter of time before Elain’s powers were revealed entirely. And he knew that it was incredibly important that the reveal be on her terms, not anyone else's.

As it was, though, Azriel was still trying to sort through the last mess he’d made and was thus disinclined to dig his grave any deeper.

A shadow swept over his collarbone in agitation. He frowned slightly, trying to listen, trying to hear what worried his wispy little friend, but all he heard was an incomprehensible buzzing.

He froze in mid-step. Glanced at the window to his left, where the last tendrils of sunlight had just disappeared behind the sweeping hills. Night had arrived, and so Vassa’s curse must have ended - until the sun returned, at least. And she had none of her friends here to greet her. To comfort her.

Another common misconception about Azriel was that he was cold and aloof and uncaring. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Months ago, Elain had referred to his stoic persona as a mask - and she was exactly right. He’d spent 500 years not knowing how to properly display emotions, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. Didn’t feel them. He felt them so deeply, so profoundly, that sometimes he thought they might just drown him.

So he shoved them away before they could.

But today…today, he would not do that. Shadows in tow, Azriel spun around, heading for the Queen’s Quarters.

***

“I can’t read another word,” Lucien said. “I think I might be going blind.”

“That’s very dramatic,” Elain said, only half paying attention to him as she diligently scanned the book in her hands.

Lucien groaned even more dramatically. His head dropped to the table with a resounding thud. “How are we supposed to find something important when we don’t even know what we are looking for?”

A small huff of frustration passed through her lips. This was not the first time he’d asked Elain that question - and, just like the past four times, she had no answer for him.

They’d been in the library for at least 6 hours now. Stacks of books lay haphazardly across the table; even taller stacks were piled around them, lingering evidence of the many fruitless searches they’d experienced. Feyre still had yet to join them, and if Elain had any spare room in her head, she would have wondered why it was taking her sister so long.

Elain rubbed her temples. “I don’t know,” she replied finally. “I don’t know what we’re looking for, I don’t know what we’re doing here, I just don’t know, okay?” The last word came out sharper than she meant for it to.

“I need to walk around for a moment,” she said after a few moments, intentionally keeping her voice level. “I’ll be back.”

Without looking at Lucien, she slid out of her chair. Her legs felt like lead after sitting for so long, and her movements were stiff at first. Thankfully, her surroundings were more than enough to distract her.

The Hall of the Hallowed was even more marvelous than her vision had led her to believe. The ceiling was so high she could not even make it out; sweeping staircases with banisters made of multi-colored marble circled the space, each leading to a different level; the setting sun streamed through crystal windows, brilliant in a way only Day Court sun could be. If Elain wasn’t mistaken - and since her Fae vision was virtually perfect, she must be correct - the tapestries artfully placed between the shelves were woven with actual gold, and the effect from the sun sparkling against the material was nothing short of glorious.

As the sun set entirely, the iron-wrought candelabras became illuminated, guiding Elain as she made her way up a small staircase and onto a new level of the Hall. She began weaving aimlessly through a new maze of shelves, picking out books at random in the hope that one of them would provide her with the unknown information she sought - the information that, she was starting to dread, might never be found. At least not in time.

At least half-an-hour later, she came to the end of the section. It was significantly darker over here, the books older and dustier. A strange but not altogether unpleasant feeling gathered at the base of her belly.

It was then that she heard the voice.

It was the same voice that had spoken to her that night in Pentalos - the night she’d slaughtered all those soldiers; the night her powers had transcended beyond understanding, beyond reason. She still didn’t know how she’d done it. But she knew that she trusted that voice. Knew that listening to it then was one of the best decisions she’d ever made - and so why would she ignore it now?

See, the voice said, only to her. It was clear as a bell and yet rang with echoing cacophony at the same time, like a thousand ancestors were speaking to her at once, their voices lapping over each other like waves upon the shore.

Anticipation sparked through her veins. She began picking books off the shelf at random, flipping through them feverishly.

See, the voice instructed again. Elain snapped the book she held shut and continued down the aisle. Clearly what she was supposed to find - what she was supposed to see - was further down the aisle.

Her head swiveled back and forth as her gaze oscillated between shelves, looking for that something, waiting for that feeling of rightness to swim through her. But she felt nothing.

What am I supposed to see? She thought back desperately.

You are looking, but you are not seeing.

Her steps quickened as she strode down the aisle.

See, the voice said, louder than before.

Instinctively, Elain’s eyes latched onto a volume at the end of the row. It was sticking out just a touch further than the rest of its bookmates. Silvery script danced down the dark indigo spine, spelling out a title in a language Elain didn’t recognize.

The voice in her head had gone quiet, but it didn’t matter. This book was the one she was supposed to find, she knew it, knew it like she knew flowers and soil and growth.

She reached out to grab the book.

However, as she began to slide it off the shelf, the strangest thing happened. The book - and it felt strangely light, oddly hollow - wouldn’t come off the shelf. Not fully. She was only able to tip the upper part of it backward.

And then, to her utter amazement, the shelf itself opened ever so slightly, revealing a thin gap. A chilly draft blew out of it.

A hidden passageway.

She let out a loud gasp. Mere seconds later, footsteps sounded behind her; she spun around to find Lucien staring at the newly-revealed doorway, his eyes wide as saucers. He must have heard her sound of surprise from the floor below and raced up to see what had shocked her so much.

“Holy gods,” Lucien said faintly. Elain nodded in agreement.

“We have to see where this goes,” she said.

Lucien made a noise under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

“Come on,” she said, not bothering to wait for a response before slipping through the thin entryway the bookshelf had revealed.

Quite unlike the rest of the Day Court, the passageway was formed entirely of roughly hewn stone. A drafty chill permeating the air.

“We shouldn’t be in here,” Lucien said, appearing behind her, just like Elain knew he would.

He was right. A secret passageway was, in its very nature, not meant to be found. But she found that she did not care all too much.

“Are you coming or not?” she asked Lucien, sending a pointed glance over her shoulder. The determined glow in her eyes was both an invitation and a challenge.

He sighed in defeat.

“Lead the way,” he said.

***

The Queen’s Quarters was not nearly as opulent as Azriel would have expected. Instead of ornate grandeur, the wing was full of soft, muted colors and plush carpets and interconnected, dimly-lit rooms. It was like a den. Like a home.

The attendant had been weary to let him in, but somehow he’d managed to sweet talk his way through the door. Or perhaps his shadows had simply frightened the mortal into submission.

Well done, he told his shadows silently. They started swirling around him excitedly, pleased with the praise. The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly.

He rounded the corner, coming to yet another room. The only light here came from a low burning fire. On a couch facing the fireplace lay the Mortal Queen, curled up on her side, red hair splayed around her. She was not sleeping though; Azriel could see her wide-open eyes reflecting against the firelight.

Azriel made sure she could hear his footsteps as he approached. Without looking up, she said, “For the last time, Cartsen, I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

The queen sounded anything but fine. She sounded dull and lifeless and monotone, so unlike the vibrant voice of the Vassa he knew.

He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Vassa sat up and eyed him. “Oh. Hello,” she said with a hint of dignity, sounding slightly more like her regal self. She brought a hand up to pat down her tousled hair. “I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight.”

“I’m sorry for dropping by unexpectedly.”

“That’s alright.”

They stared at each other.

“Is there something you wanted?” Vassa asked after a moment.

Azriel hesitated. This was unknown territory for him, comforting a female he’d never spent time with alone, and he didn’t want to navigate it incorrectly. Didn’t want to take a wrong turn and make things worse.

What would Elain do? he thought. Well, she would probably know just the right thing to say, and she would make Vassa feel perfectly at ease, and they would cry and laugh and the queen would feel just absolutely wonderful by the end. But he wasn’t Elain, and he never would be.

Maybe the better question to ask was what would Elain tell me to do? Well, that was easy. He could almost hear her now, the sweet and steady cadence of her voice a melody in his ear. Just be yourself, she would say. Just be Azriel.

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”

Vassa cocked her head to the side ever-so-slightly. “Oh?”

He shook his head. “Nah.” With an exaggerated sigh, he plopped down on the sofa across from her. “I was just wandering the halls, bored out of my mind and I thought, well, hanging out with you would be slightly more pleasant than hanging out with just my shadows. No offense, guys,” he said hastily as his shadows buzzed angrily around him. Just go with it, he told them silently.

Vassa’s mouth was agape. “Excuse me?” she choked out. A hint of anger blazed in her blue eyes.

Hiding his satisfaction, he just nodded. “Yep. I saw the sun setting and I realized that you would have shed your feathers by now, and since no one else was around, I thought you might want to hang out.”

“Shed my feathers?!” she repeated with a hiss, teeth bared.

This time, he grinned at her.

She sat back, her angry expression fading, although her eyes were still narrowed. “You’re winding me up,” she accused.

“You’re too smart to be wound up,” he replied.

She snorted.

“And you have too many responsibilities to let a slight obstacle like this keep you down,” he added, a bit more quietly.

She blinked.

He blinked back.

Then she chuckled, rising and shaking back her long tresses. She crossed to the other side of the room and poured them both a glass of whiskey.

She held out the tumbler. If Azriel wasn't mistaken, there was a new light in her eyes, brilliant and bold and something like hope. “You know, Shadowsinger,” she said, “You’re a bit of a softy.”

He took the drink. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

The red-haired queen inclined her head. “As do I.”

Azriel tipped his glass toward hers. “To reputations,” he said.

She clinked her glass with his. “To reputations.”

They both downed their glasses in one heavy gulp.

***

Elain and Lucien walked for at least 30 minutes before either of them spoke.

“I don’t like this,” the red-haired male said through his teeth, eyes darting around.

Truth be told, neither did Elain. The passageway had hit a sharp southward decline about halfway through their trek. At this point, they must be below the ground floor of the castle, level with the dungeons; perhaps even lower for all she knew.

It was pitch black, and though she could see fine with her Fae eyes, the mere knowledge that they were walking in all-encompassing darkness - that anything could be lurking around the corner in wait - made her rather anxious. But her curiosity outweighed her nerves, and her unshakeable confidence in the journey’s inevitable answers gave her courage, so she continued down the path.

A sudden cracking sound had her jumping nearly a foot in the air. Elain blinked as light filled the corridor.

“Sorry,” Lucien murmured. His left hand was raised slightly; floating above the center of his palm was a twisting, curling flame.

“That’s okay,” she said, heart thundering in her chest. She nodded at the flame. “Thanks.”

The pair walked for another ten minutes or so, not encountering anything noteworthy except for a few rats - Lucien let out a terrified and ironically rat-like squeak when one skittered over his foot, which she found rather funny - before they came across an old wooden door. There was the faintest light pulsing through the cracks beneath and above it; an unnaturally golden light, brilliant and magnetic.

They shared a wary glance. But when Elain looked back at the door, taking in the strangely pleasant golden light, a sense of calm washed over her like a summer rainshower. The light called to her the same way the voice did, enticing her forward, roping her in.

She managed to take a step forward before Lucien gripped her forearm.

“Hold on a minute,” he said seriously. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Elain. We need to discuss this before we go barging into some hidden lair beneath the foundation of the godsdamn Day Court -”

“I am meant to go through that door, and I am meant to meet whoever exists beyond it,” she said earnestly. Urgently. There was no time to waste, no time to argue; how did he not understand?

“Whoever exists?” Lucien repeated incredulously. His mechanical eye whirred in its metal socket.

“There is a presence inside that room,” Elain confirmed. “There is someone beyond that door that I am supposed to meet. And I know in my gut - in my soul - that it will do us no harm.” She believed what she was saying entirely. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that presence was of no threat to them.

She lifted her chin. “Are you coming or not?” Without waiting for an answer, she approached the door and twisted the knob. The door opened on silent hinges.

Elain was right - there was someone behind the door.

It was a female. She was sitting at a desk, facing away from them and poring over a large volume, muttering to herself while furiously scribbling notes on a sheaf of paper. There was no other furniture in the room beside the desk and chair, but the walls did have nooks carved out in the stone. Each nook was filled with books and a few dimly-burning candles. There were even more books on the floor, stacked neatly in towering piles throughout the cavern-like space.

In the time it took Elain to take in her surroundings, the female had stopped writing. Slowly, she stood up and turned.

It was a priestess - or something like it. A Day Court priestess, Elain presumed, not only because of where they were but because of the signature glow that seemed to emanate from the depths of her rich and dark skin, the inherent golden ambiance that all Day Court residents seemed to carry. There were other significant differences between this female and the other priestesses she had met, as well. Instead of a soft blue gemstone, the shining circlet on her brow held a brilliantly-bright garnet; her robes were pure white instead of blue-gray; she wore no shoes on her narrow, delicate feet.

Most telling was that she was not - could not - be Fae. At least not entirely. Elain could tell that the second she laid eyes on the priestess’ face. There was something otherworldly about her, and Elain was reminded of another non-Fae immortal who she knew; like Amren, this female was made of something different than the rest of them.

The priestess-like figure spread her arms.

“Lady Archeron,” she said in a soft, melodious voice, inclining her head slightly.

“Hello,” Elain breathed back. “How do you know my name?”

“I know many things, child.” The female’s eyes swept over Elain before flicking to Lucien. “Lord Lucien,” she said, her eyes shining with sudden emotion. “You are very welcome here.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Thank you,” Lucien said finally, a hint of discomfort in his tone.

After smiling brilliantly at Lucien for an extended moment, the priestess turned her attention back to Elain.

“Seer. Kingslayer. Life-Maker. You have many names, Lady Archeron. I wonder, which do you prefer?”

“Elain,” she replied. “Just Elain.”

The female made a humming noise. “So humble. So powerful.” She cocked her head to the side. “So small,” she observed.

“I’m not that small,” Elain said defensively.

“You’re certainly not tall, though,” Lucien added in an undertone. She shot him a scowl.

“I knew you would come to see me,” the priestess told Elain, continuing as if neither of them had said a word. “I have been waiting for you.”

“How could you know that?” Elain asked. “I didn’t even know this passageway existed until an hour ago.”

“I did not know how you would find me,” the female clarified. “I just knew you would.”

“We’re going to need more of an explanation than that,” Lucien said.

“Because to know is my gift.” She straightened up, onyx ringlets falling to her waist. “I am Isira, a Flame-Keeper of the Day Court.”

“Flame-Keeper,” Lucien repeated suspiciously. “How is that possible? Fire is a gift of the Autumn Court.”

“Calm yourself, Lord Lucien,” she said kindly. “These hands hold no fire power. The Flame that I protect is much more important than that.”

“What is this Flame you speak of?” Elain asked.

Isira crossed the room and picked up a book off the floor. She handed it to her.

“Open it.”

She did. And then she blinked.

“But there’s nothing here,” she said, nonplussed.

“Yes, there is,” Isira replied.

Elain frowned. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“This is no joke, Lady Elain. You may not see anything when you look at these pages,” said Isira, “but I do. Only I and the other Keepers are entrusted with the knowledge in these books, and so only we can see them.”

“Is that how you knew I was coming?” Elain asked. “From one of these invisible-worded books?”

“No, child. I knew because the Voices told me.”

“The Voices,” Elain echoed, exchanging a wary glance with Lucien.

“Yes. The Voices of Before.”

“Like…ghosts?” Lucien asked. Maybe it was the way the candlelight bounced against him, but he looked paler than usual.

“Yes. And no,” Isira responded. “My gift - and the gift of all Flame Keepers - is to know the Past.”

“How much of the Past do you know?” Lucien questioned.

“Why, as much as we want,” the priestess said. “You see, the past, unlike the future, is solid. Stagnant. Permanent. It has already been carved into stone.

“But so much of our past is told only in partiality - those in power, those who win wars, those who conquer - those are the ones who are allowed to write history as they wish, and often, they write it to present themselves in the best light. Often, they do not tell history as it truly happened, and so the integrity of the past is threatened.

“That is why we exist. That is why us Keepers are so important to the balance of the universe. We alone possess the truth of the past. We alone hold the knowledge of yore. We alone remember.”

“But how is that possible?” Elain asked, her eyes wide. “How can a single person know everything that has ever happened?”

Isira burst out laughing, the sound light and tinkling. “Dear child, I must not be explaining correctly. Keepers do not hold all the world’s knowledge within ourselves - but we can access it whenever we wish.”

“The Voices of Before,” Lucien murmured.

The Keeper nodded. “Exactly. Whenever we wish to learn something new - which is always, since us Keepers have an innate and unquenchable thirst for knowledge - we merely ask the Voices of Before to share with us. Sometimes they speak to us directly; sometimes they provide it to us in a book that only we can read.” She gestured vaguely to the hundreds of tomes stacked behind her, presumably with pages as blank as what she’d shown Elain.

“Oftentimes they share with us knowledge that we did not request. That we were not even aware existed.” Isira looked steadily at Elain. “It was approximately two and a half years ago that one of the Voices of Before spoke to me about you, Lady Elain.”

Approximately two and a half years ago, Elain had recently been thrown into the cauldron. Had lost her humanity. Her heart twisted of its own accord.

“The Voice told me of a mortal female who was recently turned Fae. It told me how the transformation occurred. It told me that when the Cauldron took her into its liquidy grasp, it found her so lovely and purehearted and honorable that it gifted her powers beyond measure.”

Elain felt her composure begin to slip as memories of that evening clouded her head. But then Isira spoke again, and the clear, quiet voice steadied her.

“And most importantly, the Voice told me that this had happened before.”

It felt like the world stopped moving for a moment. “What?” Elain finally breathed out. “What do you mean this has happened before?”

But Isira was shaking her head. “I cannot say,” she said, “I do not know. The Voices did not share that with me. But they did tell me this: That which you seek is closer than you think.”

Lucien groaned under his breath. “Another godsdamn riddle.”

“That which I seek…,” Elain murmured to herself. “That which I seek…” Her head shot up. There was only one thing she was seeking, truly, only one thing that would put this entire mess to an end.

“Koschei’s soul,” she said, eyes wide. “Please. You must tell me where it is.”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Then ask the Voices to tell you!” Elain begged. “If this has happened before, if this is a repeat of the past, then they will know what we should do now. They might even know exactly where Koschei’s soul is. Please, please ask them.”

But Isira was shaking her head. “The Voices would not tell me more. It is not their place to say, nor is it mine to ask again. Just remember, Lady Elain, to watch closely. Watch those around you. The answers you seek are right in front of you. You are nearly there.”

Elain had never felt more frustrated in her entire life, and that included her complicated feelings toward both the crimson-haired male beside her and the hazel-eyed Illyrian warrior back at the Mortal Manor. She was about to start begging again when Isira suddenly shifted her attention to Lucien.

“Lord Lucien, there is something you must know as well,” she said seriously. “About the truth of your origins.”

The youngest Vanserra brother took a surprised step back. “What do you mean?” he asked, a fearful gleam in his wide eyes.

Isira owned her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the floor started to rumble, dust filling the cavern as the rocky interior trembled viciously. Instinctively, Elain clutched Lucien’s wrist; he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“What’s happening?” she yelled in terror.

But her question was deemed unnecessary as the shaking immediately ceased. The dust in the room was replaced with a nearly-blinding luminescent glow. Then, after a few seconds, Lord Helion strode out of that glow.

The priestess fell to her knees and bowed her head. “High Lord, please forgive me,” she said, rocking back and forth. “The Voices asked me to share. Please understand.”

The High Lord merely said, “I’ll speak with you later, Isira,” in a low, dangerous voice, refusing to take his gaze off of Elain and Lucien. His usual friendly and convivial face was twisted in fury.

“How dare you take advantage of my hospitality? How dare you trespass in the Caverns of the Keepers?” he snarled.

Elain’s grip on Lucien’s wrist tightened. They were in deep, deep shit.

LMK if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

#elriel #elrielfic #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain acosf #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotarfic #acotarfanfic #post acosf #please accept my apologies for being AWOL the past two months #please forgive your friend dany #dany loves to know what her fans think of the story

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ayieedelweiss · 3 years ago

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#elrielfic

ACOTAR Secret Santa – REVEALED!

Happy Holidays, @azrielslight! It has been so fun getting to know you for the @acotargiftexchange this year.

To be honest, I meant for your gift to be that artwork of Elriel in the HP AU, but I wasn’t quite able to finish it in time due to unforeseen circumstances. I still intend to finish it! I just want it to be perfect. Gimme a couple more days <3

In the meantime, here is the first chapter of a canon-universe Elriel fic that I hope will scratch your specific itches ;)

all of me belongs to you (read on AO3) An Elriel Solstice Story of Choices, Forgiveness and First Times For Azrielslight, by Dema Summary: A year after Azriel and Elain’s interrupted kiss, the Shadowsinger is still consumed by what might have been. But he is able to push his feelings to the wings, until he overhears the sisters discussing Elain’s love life. Notes: angsty as all heck because it’s Azriel’s POV, but there will be a soft ending, I promise.

Chapter 1 – Choice

Objectively speaking, Velaris was beautiful at Solstice time. Azriel knew this, even if he didn’t feel it.

The Shadowsinger stood in the swirling snow, siphons glinting like the many candles adorning every window and the faelights that dripped from the eaves. It was an effect not so distant from Starfall in the spring, if the air weren’t brittle with cold…but the weather suited him, he thought, as he wandered those midnight streets. One year ago, nearly to the day, he’d walked this same circuit around the Palace of Thread and Jewels, a gift he’d purchased there burning a hole in his pocket as he’d wrestled with his own will. In the end he’d mustered the courage to present that gift to its intended – and in so doing, royally embarrass himself, and her, and doom his chances forever.

Like the colossal, unprecedented fuckup he was.

Keep reading

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danydragons21 · 3 years ago

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The Shadows That Sing: Chapter 28

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 28: Words

“You look like shit,” Cassian observed.

Azriel grimaced. “Thanks.”

“If anyone in this room has an excuse to look shitty, it’s me. You know, the one who quite literally came back from the dead,” Cassian said.

The latter part of his sentence had Nesta, who was curled up on his other side reading a book, whipping her head up to glare at him, the mere mention of his near-death experience sending a tangible rush of distress through her. Cassian patted her hand placatingly. She refocused her attention back on the book, though every once in a while she would shoot her mate a suspicious glance out of the corners of her narrowed, blue-gray eyes.

“Instead,” Cas continued, “well, you know how I look,” he smirked, gesturing to the healthy flush of his skin. “I look absolutely incredible.”

“If I had a gold coin for every time you’ve said that in the past 48 hours, we could move out of the House of Wind and buy a new mansion.” Nesta said dryly.

Azriel would never admit it to Cassian—his brother needed no extra boost to his confidence—but he did look incredible. His complexion was glowing. His eyes were vibrant and clear. Even the muscles beneath his sun-darkened skin looked stronger and more robust. It was nearly impossible to imagine that only a few days ago, he had been on his deathbed. Now he could very well enter a male beauty contest—and win. He was a living, breathing, walking and talking miracle.

And the shadowsinger was one of only two people who knew just how that miracle came about. And the other person—the miracle-maker herself—was avoiding him like the plague.

Hence why he looked like shit. In the two days since Cassian’s recovery, Azriel hadn’t even seen Elain, let alone spoken to her. Every time he recalled the horrible things he’d said when they were last face-to-face - which he thought about, oh, every other minute or so - guilt and regret threatened to pull him under.

“And you’re being useless, like always.”

Gods. He didn’t deserve to live after saying that. Or maybe he did deserve to live and have to forever replay the utter devastation that had splashed across her face following his ugly declaration. That seemed like a fair way to pay his penance.

After she’d left him in the den, he’d wallowed in misery for a few moments before visiting Cassian, confirming for himself that his friend was going to make a full recovery, and drawing up a chair next to his sick bed. He’d barely left his side since, spending nearly every second with him and Nesta in the infirmary.

Azriel would like to pretend this commitment stemmed solely from being a good friend and wanting to ensure Cassian remained healthy, but that would be a lie. The truth was that he was avoiding Elain just as much as she was avoiding him.

He’d fucked up—royally—and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t even know how to begin . Words had never been his strong suit, and he didn’t know how to adequately explain how incredibly and deeply sorry he was while also begging for forgiveness and ensuring her that he had not meant anything he’d said.

Because he hadn’t meant it, not even a little bit. She was anything but useless; she was as bright as the stars in the sky; she was everything . The hurtful words he’d said had been nothing more than an awful defense mechanism. A rudimentary and cruel way to attempt to guard his heart from any more breaking. Even in his head, though, the explanation sounded pathetic and not nearly good enough.

So he had not even tried to find her yet, because he was unable to stomach seeing her and experiencing her cold shoulder. Or her apathy. Or the wounded hurt in her eyes. Worst of all, he had a nagging fear that the next time he saw her, she was going to end—going to end whatever this thing was between them. And despite thinking only days ago that the culmination of their relationship was inevitable, he found that the thought of letting her go right now was utterly unbearable.

If she couldn’t speak to him alone, though…well, then she couldn’t end it. And so here he was, camping out in the Manor’s hospital wing like a coward and impeding on Cassian and Nesta’s privacy.

“So, Azriel, do you still want to have a threesome with us?”

He blinked, sure that he did not hear Nesta right. But no, she and Cassian were staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply.

“...What?”

“See, I told you he wasn’t listening,” Cassian nudged Nesta. “Pay up, Archeron.”

She scowled. “ I told you he wasn’t listening, you brat. Are you sure there aren’t any unfortunate side effects from this so-called near death experience? You seem to be dumber than usual.”

A grin spread across Cassian’s face. “There aren’t any unfortunate side effects, no. However, I can tell you there are some fortunate side effects, my sweet little mate,” he said, tugging Nesta closer to him. “Such as a renewed virility and an entirely new desire to—”

“I have NEVER said I wanted to have a threesome with the two of you!” Azriel said loudly. He could feel his cheeks burning.

Nesta rolled her eyes good-naturedly and lightly separated herself from Cassian (though only by a few inches, and if Azriel wasn’t so entirely avoiding her icy-blue gaze, he would have noticed that her cheeks were rather red, too). “We made a bet,” she said.

Azriel opened his mouth, gaping wordlessly like a fish out of water for a few seconds. “What does that have to do with a threesome?” he choked out.

With a great roar, Cassian burst out laughing and, in typical-Cassian fashion, started rolling around. Nesta giggled, a very not-typical-Nesta thing to do.

Azriel glowered at them.

“Oh, stop pouting,” Nesta said. “We made a bet on if you were listening to us or not. When it quickly became apparent that you were in a world all of your own, it just escalated into saying the most outlandish things until you finally registered that we were speaking to you.” She shrugged. “You really need to work on your awareness skills.”

Well. That was a humiliating thing to hear as the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“We’re just playing with you, Az,” said Cassian, “but we know you’re hiding out here for some reason.”

Azriel did his best not to give any reaction, but it didn’t matter. His friends had already seen through his flimsy mask of security to what he really was: a distracted, heartbroken fool.

Leaning over, Cassian gave Azriel’s shoulder a rough, encouraging pat. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re here if you need us. You can third-wheel with us anytime you want, buddy.”

“And do let us know about that threesome,” Nesta said off-handedly, returning to her book.

Azriel shook his head. “Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s joking or not,” he said to Cassian under his breath.

His friend nodded in understanding. “I know. It’s scary, right?”

“Thank you,” Nesta said as she turned the page.

Azriel’s shadows suddenly started swirling around him. One sidled up to his ear and whispered. The High Lady approaches with urgent news.

“Feyre is coming. ” he told Cassian and Nesta. The latter frowned.

“How do you know?” she asked.

He sent her a funny look. “My shadows told me.” Of course , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

But Nesta continued to look disturbed. “I thought your shadows couldn’t hear in the Mortal Manor,” she said slowly.

It was like an icicle to the heart, sharp in the way his panic hit, melting in the way it cascaded throughout his veins, putting all of his other senses on high alert. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that his shadows could not hear within the Manor; their whispers were a sixth sense to him at this point.

Except she was right. Until this very moment, he’d never been able to hear his shadows while inside the Manor. Because of…

Instinctively, he stood up.

“Shit,” Cassian exhaled deeply through his nose.

Shit was right.

***

Sometime over the last week, autumn had faded into winter; there were nearly no leaves left on any of the trees, and every morning a thin dusting of frozen dew coated the grounds. Elain usually hated the cold, but for the past two days, the chilly and barren woods had become her solace. Her sanctuary.

She’d spent hours on end finding dead plants and occasionally animals and testing her powers on them. The plants were easy to bring back to life; the animals were not. It made sense; animals were that much more complex, and healing an injured living creature was not nearly as difficult as completely reviving a dead one. Yesterday, though, she’d had some luck reviving a frozen butterfly, so she knew she was improving.

It annoyed her as much as it pleased her that she found mastering her healing magic so much easier than her seer powers, though that, too, made sense to her. Healing was brought forth by love and positive energy; well, Elain had so much love. Sometimes she thought she loved too much.

Summoning visions, on the other hand, required her to shut off the emotions that came so naturally to her. And while usually this was a difficult feat in and of itself…ever since Azriel had so cruelly cut her down with words in the den, she’d found it nearly impossible to close off her emotions. Found it nearly impossible to feel anything but wretched hurt and anger and betrayal.

How dare he? How dare he say those barbed words to her? He, who more than anyone else, knew just how deep those words would slice at her confidence. She would never have believed the male could say something so callous. And so untrue. Because Elain was not dense enough to take Azriel’s insult seriously. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d brought his best friend back from the brink of death only a few days ago, but she knew without a doubt that she was not useless. And she wasn’t going to let some stupid, insensitive, and annoyingly sexy bat tell her otherwise.

She just wished she didn’t miss him so much. She hadn’t realized how much better she'd been sleeping with Azriel beside her until sleeping next to him was an impossibility. Now, he haunted her dreams like all the other ghosts of her past.

Ugh . She scowled at herself. She had far more important things to do with herself than wallow in pity over the potential demise of her relationship with the shadowsinger.

For the past two days, Lucien had been urging her to tell the rest of her court about her newfound powers. She had to admit that he had a point. Ever since Cassian’s “miraculous” healing, everyone had been coming up with theories for how he could have possibly survived such a terminal wound. Each was more ridiculous than the last.

At first the theories had been relatively plausible. Rhys had suggested that Koschei had never meant to kill Cassian; that his injury was only supposed to push him to the brink of death before whatever magic the death lord possessed pulled him back to the edge of safety.

“He wants to remind us that he’s in control,” the High Lord had said grimly.

Now though, days after the fact, the theories had gotten utterly unhinged. Jurian had gone so far to suggest that Cassian was not healed at all and instead was a puppet for Koschei to spy on them all. When Mor came to visit briefly, she’d mused aloud on if Cassian was descended from a rare breed of Fae that possessed miraculous healing properties in their blood.

“They’re practically invincible,” Mor said, her eyes shining. “That would explain why you’ve survived so many wars while being on the front lines.”

“Yeah, because it can’t just be the fact that I’m the best warrior in Prythian,” replied Cassian in an offended tone.

Elain crept quietly out of the room after that because she was worried the guilty look on her face would give her away.

She was running out of reasons not to tell the rest of her court and family about her healing powers. In fact, she only had one reason remaining, and it wasn’t a very good one: she just didn’t want to. Not until she was perfectly adept with her magic, at least. It was stupid, but when she finally told the others, she wanted it to be on her terms, and she wanted to be fully capable of healing in every which way. She just couldn’t take any more pitiful looks that implied she was a burden rather than an asset.

First things first: Elain needed a plan of action. And what better way to plan than to see into the future? Sure, she hadn’t had much luck purposefully summoning visions lately…but there was a nagging feeling in Elain’s stomach that told her she had to keep trying. That told her it was imperative that she keep trying. Almost like time was running out, if she was to be that melodramatic and foreboding.

She sat cross-legged on a small tree stump and closed her eyes. Took a deep, controlling breath.

What do I want to see? What do I need to see?

Behind her, a twig snapped. She whipped around, heart thundering in her chest. Her sharp Fae eyes caught a small mouse darting across the forest floor, and she whooshed out a half-frustrated, half-relieved sigh.

“Focus,” she ordered herself. Slowly, she felt her taut muscles relax as a soothing numbness consumed her. Hollowed her. Carved her into a vessel for whatever visions would come her way.

What do I want to see? What do I need to see?

I want to see what to do next , she thought. I need to see the path I must take. The path to where, she was not sure…but she was starting to understand that fortune telling was not an etching of set events into stone; human nature was too fickle for that, too inconstant and dynamic. To be a seer was not to predict with certainty that which was too far away to consider: it was to let the next step in the path be illuminated.

And with that revelation, a vision came to her immediately.

She was sitting at a long table, tomes haphazardly stacked atop the surface, and was flipping through one of the books with a look of deep concentration on her face. Beside her was Lucien, who was also scouring a thick volume. They were in a library, though that word was far too simple to describe the gorgeous room, with its dark wooden interior and intricate gold detailings and arching windows that revealed the most stunning view of a cloudless cerulean sky and puffy white clouds. The rays of sun beaming into the room had never seemed so bright, so pure.

The red-haired male beside her excitedly pointed to a passage in the book he was reading. “This could be—oh, never mind,” Vision-Lucien murmured disappointedly, shaking his head. Vision-Elain gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to her own tome.

The loud cawing of a bird jolted her from the vision. Crisp and cool air stung her eyes as they opened. The bleak winter sun traversing through the nearly-barren branches seemed much dimmer than the brilliant light in her vision. A rush of clarity seared through her.

She knew what she had to do next.

***

If Elain hadn’t been so preoccupied with her most recent vision, she would have noticed how ominously quiet the Manor was upon entering. As it was, her head was so entirely filled with what she’d just seen that she barely noticed where she was going. It wasn’t until she was mere feet away from the throne room that she realized where she was; a moment later she registered Lucien's deep voice sounding from behind the arched doors. Huh. Her subconscious must have led her straight to the person she wanted to talk to.

Perhaps she should have been a little more aware of her surroundings and registered that there were other voices inside the room, as well. Instead, she barged straight in, throwing the double doors wide open in her haste, and strode right for Lucien.

“We need to talk,” she told him. He blinked down at her in surprise.

“What?” he asked after a moment, his voice strangely hoarse.

“We need to talk,” she repeated, more urgently this time. “I just had a vision.”

“Elain.” It was Nesta who had spoken. The eldest Archeron sister wrung her hands nervously. “Elain, something has happened.”

Her heart slowed. Glancing around the throne room, she fully registered the others who stood around them—her sisters and their mates, Jurian and a few select soldiers from the legion he commanded. They all wore the same grim and melancholy expression, made even more somber in the dim light from the flickering torches that lined the walls.

And there, nearly in the corner, half-ensconced in the darkness, was the Spymaster. She couldn’t make out his face—she didn’t allow her gaze to linger on him to seek out his expression—but she could sense his anxiety from the way his shadows tensed and pulsed around him.

“What happened?”

Silence. When Jurian let out a small sniff, her heart started back up again, racing far too fast.

“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s wrong this instant—”

“It’s Vassa,” Lucien croaked. “Her curse has returned.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Dread was a living thing that moved inside her body; it slithered through her, cold and damning. Despite all the anger she’d harbored toward the mortal queen these past few weeks, all she felt now was pure and utter panic. Not Vassa, no, he couldn’t take her, he couldn’t have her, and oh gods, she was supposed to save her friend, this was her fault, she hadn't tried hard enough, she had not been enough —

“Koschei took her?” she asked fearfully.

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head, blue eyes full of sorrow. “She has not been made to return to the Lake—yet. But she has been forced back into firebird form during sunlit hours.”

Breathing became slightly easier. Vassa was still here; she had not been taken by Koschei. Thank the gods. And yet the fact that her firebird curse had returned did not bode well for any of them, least of all the queen.

“Where is she?” Elain asked, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. Oh, Vassa. Brave and bold Vassa, trapped inside a body that was not her own. An immense pressure bore down upon Elain’s heart.

“She’s circling the grounds.”

As one, they looked out the massive windows overlooking the grounds. There, in the distance, high above the trees, flew a large avian creature. It was colored with brilliant crimson and gold plumage. As they watched, the bird emitted a heartbreaking cry. She immediately recognized it as the call that had roused her from her earlier vision. The lament seemed to echo throughout Elain’s very being, a chilling and sorrowful song that rattled her bones with its intensity.

“What do we do?” Jurian asked.

“There is nothing we can do right now,” said Rhys. “It seems the only way to free Vassa of the curse is to destroy Koschei. Our best chance of doing that is to wait until the ball, when we can put our plan into action. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, but…” he trailed off as Lucien started pacing furiously, his hands cupping the back of his neck, the scent of his frustration clouding the room.

He spun around and pointed at Elain.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping her.” His good eye was bright with rage.

Shock rendered her silent for a moment. “What?” she finally replied.

“You were supposed to use your powers to find a way to rid her of this horrible enchantment,” he said loudly, voice shaking. “To figure out how the hell we can stop Koschei.”

“Lucien,” said Feyre, her voice low with warning. “Stop. Your frustration is misplaced.”

What the fuck was with all these alpha-Faes thinking they could yell at her? Well, she’d had enough. “As a matter of fact,” Elain cut in angrily, “I just had a vision that told me what our next step should be. Now can I share it, or do you have any more unfair and unfounded accusations to throw my way?”

Everyone blinked. Lucien’s face turned nearly as red as his hair as he took an embarrassed step backward, averting his eyes.

A few moments of awkward silence passed. “Well, what was your vision, Elain?” Jurian asked breathlessly.

She relayed the details quickly.

“I was with you?” Lucien asked once she’d finished.

“Yes,” Elain replied shortly, not bothering to look at him.

“This library,” Rhys mused, “do you know where it is?”

“I’ve never been there before...but yes, I think I know where it is. I believe it’s at the Day Court.”

“The Day Court?”

“Yes. It’s just a hunch, but it feels right.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing on. “May I take a look inside your mind and confirm? I’ve been to the Day Court library before, you see.”

She eyes her brother-in-law with thinly-veiled suspicion. Did she really want to give him permission to sift through her memories? There were some things she’d rather he never see (and a lot of them involved her sex life with a certain someone). But at this point, Elain knew her mental magic was good enough that she’d be able to put up a decent fight. Besides, as misguided and arrogant as he could be, she didn’t think Rhys was cruel enough to invade her most private thoughts.

Nodding once at Rhys, she relaxed and lifted the mental barriers inside her head. His eyes focused elsewhere; a moment later, he blinked. “Yes. That is the Day Court library. You are clearly meant to find something important there.”

She nodded back in agreement. “I don’t know how exactly it will help Vassa, but I know that it’s going to,” Elain said, and saying the words out loud had her feeling even more sure of their truth. “I just can’t see the end result yet. Which means I need to go to the Day Court. And you,” she turned to fix her gaze at Lucien, a little unwillingly, “have to come with me.”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. “Me?”

Elain frowned. “Yes, you. No one else was in the vision.”

“Oh, right,” he said, ducking his head.

Gods. And she was the useless one? Resisting the urge to throw something, Elain continued in a steady voice, “With your permission, High Lord and High Lady, and of course the blessing of Lord Helion, I would like to visit the Day Court as soon as possible. With Lucien, too, if he agrees to come,” she added.

“I’ll come,” he said quickly.

“The Day Court?” Feyre said, and perhaps Elain was imagining it, but she thought she detected a hint of nervousness in her sister’s voice. “Just the two of you?”

Rhys sent his mate a loaded glance. What the hell is going on? Elain thought, bemused.

Then a deep voice spoke from the far end of the room, effectively stealing all of her attention. “If you need someone else to go, I’m happy to accompany Elain, as well,” the Spymaster said.

She stiffened, her gaze flicking to where Azriel leaned against the far wall, wearing his shadows like a second-skin. Even in the semi-darkness, his glowing hazel eyes were piercing as ever, and they were directed straight at her. She hated her traitorous heart for stopping mid-beat in her chest.

“I don’t think Elain and I need a chaperone, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien said. Still caught in Azriel’s intense gaze, she watched as his expression turned dark and dangerous (or, well, darker and more dangerous than usual).

“Careful, Vanserra” the shadowsinger warned quietly. Elain would never admit it, but the deep, raspy timbre of his voice made her unnaturally hot between the legs.

“Or what?” Lucien sneered.

“Knock it off, you two,” Nesta snapped.

The two males immediately obeyed her elder sister and went silent, but the daggers they glared at each other were as sharp as ever.

Now Elain was more than annoyed. She was ready to be done with this conversation.

Taking a deep breath, she collected herself, then faced Rhys and Feyre. “Well? May we go?”

Apparently the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court had already discussed the matter mind-to-mind.

“Yes. You may go. I’ll reach out to Helion at once,” Feyre answered. “I am sure he will be more than fine with it.” Once again, there was a guarded expression on her sister’s face that Elain could not quite comprehend. She’d have to ask her about it later. “Upon receiving Helion’s blessing, you, Lucien and I will depart for the Day Court immediately.”

“You’re coming with us?” she asked in surprise.

“I have other matters to discuss with Helion, so yes, I’ll be joining you.”

Well, that was a relief. If she was going to have a third companion, Feyre was a much preferable option than Azriel. She felt sick even thinking about the sheer awkwardness of trying to make conversation with Azriel and Lucien together. Hells . She shook off the disturbing thought.

“The Day Court is one of the safest places in the realm, but it’s often in the safest places that we let our guards down,” said Rhys. “Don’t do that. Always be on alert. Keep mental notes of anything odd you notice. And most importantly..don’t do anything risky.”

Elain nodded her acquiescence, pretending she didn’t notice the worried look Nesta sent her way.

Clapping her hands together, Feyre said, “Well, I’m going to get a message to Helion. I’ll let him know this is urgent business. Elain and Lucien, I’d go pack a bag immediately. Chances are Helion will reply in the next hour or so, and we have no time to waste.”

She started to nod again when a thought occurred to her. “If we leave before Vassa…transforms back,” she swallowed down the emotion stuck in her throat, “will you tell her where we went? Will you tell her that we’ll be back soon?”

It was Jurian who replied. “Of course.”

She wished she could be there when the queen returned from her cursed form, but perhaps it was for the best. Elain knew Vassa, and she knew that her prideful and spirited friend would likely not want to speak to anyone for a while.

“One more thing,” said Rhys. “Make sure you wake up before the sun rises.”

“Why so early?” she asked before she could help herself.

A small smile tugged at Rhys’ lips. “Believe me. You won’t want to miss the sunrise in the Day Court.”

***

She felt him before she saw him.

“You know, most people would call appearing unannounced in someone’s bedroom an invasion of privacy,” she said, not bothering to pause in her folding of garments as she packed a small bag for her trip. Feyre had informed her just a few minutes ago that Helion had gotten their message and invited them to the Day Court. They’d be leaving as soon as the clock struck noon.

“It’s only an invasion of privacy if it’s an unwelcome visit.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “If you’re waiting on me to invite you in, you’ll be waiting a while, I’m afraid.”

A heavy silence. “Elain,” he said eventually, deep and demanding. “Look at me.”

No , she wanted to say. No, I can’t look at you, because then I might consider forgiving you, and I’m far too hurt and angry to do that right now. Instead, she said nothing at all.

“Please, Elain,” he said raspily. Her heart seized up and this time, she did pause in her tasks. How could she not when the ring of genuine regret and apology in his voice threatened to melt down her walls of resistance?

He spoke again. “I messed up.”

She nodded slowly, still facing the other way. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry, Elain. You have to know I didn’t mean it. Even if you can’t forgive me, you have to know that.”

She let out a long sigh. The thing was, she did know that. She knew he didn’t mean what he’d said—but he had meant to hurt her. And that intentionality was what gnawed at her heart the most.

“Yes, I know that,” she said finally, turning to face him.

The wintry afternoon sunbeams shining through the window reflected beautifully against his eyes. It made the deep green warmer; made the gold flecks brighter. He was so beautiful, standing there in his shadows and his sorrow. He was so beautiful, and yet she was still so angry with him that it physically hurt.

“Do you forgive me?”

She smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that.”

He made a pained sound in the back of his throat. “Is that why you are going to the Day Court with him?” he asked, and there was a desperation to his tone that she’d never heard before. “Are you doing it to punish me?”

Shock had her taking an instinctive step backward. “When have I ever done something to purposely hurt you?” she asked incredulously. “When have I not had your back? I’m on your team , Azriel. I always have been, and I have always acted with your best intentions at heart. Meanwhile, you’re tailoring your words to hit me where it will hurt me most, and even worse, you are doubting me! Doubting us .”

He flinched.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “We have less than a month before the ball. Vassa’s curse has returned. Koschei is coming for us. We are running out of time. Everything I am doing is what I believe must be done in order for us to survive the coming storm. I have no ulterior motives.” A pause. “And you have to know I would never hurt you like that. Not intentionally.” Her voice went so low it might as well have been a whisper. “I care for you far too much.”

Anticipation was a restless beating in her chest as she waited—and hoped, and wanted, and wished—for his response to be something substantial, something she could grasp on to. But after several moments of silence, it became apparent that she would wait in vain.

Swallowing down the crushing disappointment, she returned to her packing, hoping he didn’t see her shaking hands. “I’ll see you when I return.”

In the span of a breath, he was behind her and spinning her around to face him.

“Please, wait a second,” he said, low and urgent, “I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” she snapped back. A vein in his jaw twitched, and she had the sudden urge to flick it.

“Tell me what you want,then,” he begged. “What do you want me to do? What do you want, ‘Lain?”

His hands were still on her shoulders, holding her in place, and she seemed to register it at the same time as him. Their eyes met.

“I want…” she breathed, trailing off as the familiar wave of desire flooded her senses.

She didn’t know who moved first; maybe they moved at exactly the same time, the way they always have, as if drawn together by an invisible magnet, but suddenly his body was mere centimeters away. And then, a beat later, his chest was flush against her own, warm and solid and sculpted like a statue, and her back was arching as one of his hands found the small of her back and the other cradled her face, and the heady, familiar scent of him made her as lightheaded as southern wine—

Gods. Gods . How could it still be like this? She thought her desire for Azriel would have been quenched at this point. Somewhat sated, at the very least. And not only because of their recent argument, but because they’d been sleeping together for over a month now—often and consistently—and yet…and yet she still wanted him just as much as before. Her pulse still skyrocketed at his very proximity. She still ached for him, all the time; ached for all of him to be intertwined with all of her.

But she wouldn’t really have him , would she? She would have his kisses. His demands and praises. She would have the singular feeling of his keen, intoxicating gaze devouring her body, worshiping her with his eyes. She would have the indescribable comfort and safety his presence brought her. Yes, Elain supposed, she would have all of that.

As long as it was behind closed doors.

Azriel leaned forward, pushing his forehead against hers. “I’m not good with my words,” he murmured. “I don’t…I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to. Desperately.” His hot, sweet breath ghosted over her ear, then traveled down the curve of her jaw, and Elain had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. “So please, tell me what I can say to make this better. Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”

He was looking at her so fiercely, so sincerely, that she considered—just for a moment—giving in. But the feeling was as fleeting as it was dangerous.

Gently, she disentangled herself from his embrace and took a step back. His arms fell limply to his side.

“You are not as bad with words as you think,” she said, not unkindly. “You knew what you were saying the other day.”

Pain crashed across his face. He opened his mouth at the same time the clock struck noon, and then the manor was filled with the usual clanging of bell chimes. When the bellowing echoes finally ceased, Elain spoke.

“I have to go,” she said.

He nodded stiffly, that vein in his jaw still working.

“When you get back, we’re going to have a talk. I promise, El. Yeah? A talk, just you and me.”

She nodded, throat too tight with emotion to speak. Gave him as genuine of a smile as she could muster, but she could tell that it was a weak attempt.

Something visceral flashed in his eyes, but before she could decipher it he was stepping back into his shadows. “Have a good trip,” he said, expression unreadable, the vulnerable male she’d seen just moments ago gone completely. “I’ll see you soon.” A pause, and then, like he couldn’t help himself: “Be safe, Elain. Please.”

He vanished. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Smoothed out a crease on her gown. Slung her pack over her shoulder and exited the room.

She had a mission to complete.

And while she was at it, she hoped she got to pet a pegasus or two.

TAGS (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from the list)

#tsts #theshadowsthatsing #elriel #elrielfic #elrielfanfic #azriel #elain #acotar #acotarfic #post acosf #elriel fanfic #nessian #feysand

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danydragons21 · 3 years ago

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The Undoing: Elriel AU Fic!

Of course I had to contribute to Elriel Month 2022! Read it on a03 here.

Summary: Azriel De Valois is the Senior Director of Investigation at The Night Agency. When his boss, Founder and Owner Rhysand Night, hires a new assistant for him, he makes Azriel promise one thing: to stay away from her. Unfortunately for Rhys, Azriel has never been a man to keep his promises.

THE UNDOING

Chapter 1: Cracks

Azriel is reclining lazily in his chair, feet propped up on his large oak desk, a cigarette lit and dangling loosely from his mouth, when his boss walks in.

“Can you at least pretend you’re working?” Rhys asks wryly.

Azriel smirks. “Would that make you feel better, Sir?”

Rhys rolls his violet eyes and shuts the door behind him. “Just don’t let the others see you smoking in here. They’ll start to think I’m playing favorites.”

“What an obscene assumption.” As if the entire office isn’t aware that he and Rhys, as well as their coworker Cassian, are extremely close both personally and professionally.

Rhys takes the seat in front of Azriel’s desk and leans forward on his elbows. Gone is any humor, replaced instead by a serious look on his face.

“I have to talk to you about something.”

Az frowns at the change in tone. “Let me guess. I’m not going to like it?”

“Not exactly. In fact, I’m here to make sure you don’t like it too much.”

Now his interest is piqued. He sits up and takes a deep hit of his cigarette before smushing it on the ashtray, glowing embers fading into crumbling ash. “Continue.”

Rhysand Night sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. As Founder and CEO of The Night Agency, Chicago’s most renowned and prestigious private investigation firm, he had plenty of responsibilities and stressors in his life. But rarely had Azriel ever seen him so agitated.

“Spit it out, Rhys.”

His friend scowls. “You know Feyre, right?”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Did he know Feyre, the local artist who Rhys met at a gallery opening a few months ago and fell head over heels for, and has refused to talk about anything else since? It was stupid and unnecessary question. Not to mention she came by the firm at least three times a week to eat lunch with Rhys. But his curiosity is strong enough to stave off any snarky comments, so he simply nods instead.

“Well, she has two older sisters, and they both need jobs.”

A sinking feeling fills his chest. He can see where this was going. “And…?”

“And, well, I offered to help them out.”

It was Azriel’s turn to grimace. “Of course you did.” For all Rhys’ swagger and notoriety as a hardass, he was actually quite a pushover. Especially when it came to beautiful women.

“It’s only for a little while,” Rhys adds quickly, as if that makes it any better.

Truly, Azriel wouldn’t care—it was Rhys’ firm after all, and he could do what he wanted with it—but he knew what Rhys was asking of him. Knew what this favor entailed.

“So, which sister am I going to be working with?”

“The middle one. Elain.”

Elain. A pretty name. She was probably a pretty girl, too. A pretty, vapid, ditzy girl who would only slow him down as he surreptitiously traced and tracked people across Chicago who, for whatever reason, did not want to be found.

“She’ll mostly be helping you with paperwork and administrative stuff. Think of her like an assistant. She’s here to help, not get in the way.”

“Sure,” Azriel says dryly. “I’m assuming you want me to take her on assignments, though?”

Rhys cringes. “Yes. Not all of them, but yeah, some. She’s actually interested in becoming a PI herself, and I promised Feyre I’d give her some real experience…” He trails off.

Azriel huffs out a breath. Typical Rhys, always promising things he shouldn’t. Always (and annoyingly) following through on those promises.

“So what do you say?” Rhys asks.

“It’s not like I can say no, is it?”

“That’s the spirit!” Rhys says bracingly. He stands up and claps a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “You’ll be glad I assigned Elain to you and not the eldest sister, Nesta. She’s a fucking piece of work. Cassian might hate me for the rest of our lives once he meets her.”

“I’m so eternally grateful,” Az says, but Rhys misses the sarcasm as he glances toward the still-closed door.

“One more thing,” he said distractedly.

“What’s that?”

Rhys turns his violet eyes back to Azriel. “Don’t hit on her.”

Azriel raises a brow. “She’s going to be working for me. Why would I hit on my assistant?”

“May I remind you of the last secretary I hired? She only lasted a week before you wined, dined, and fucked her. And then, of course, never called her again. I had to buy a new desktop computer for the secretary desk after she destroyed it in a rage.”

Oh, yeah. He’d forgotten about—what was her name? Amy? Amanda? Well, it certainly didn’t matter now.

Az shrugs. “That was different. She worked for the whole office, not just me.”

“Forgive me that I’m not convinced you’ll suddenly be able to turn off your womanizing tendencies. I don’t know Elain too well, but Feyre says she just got out of a really bad relationship, and the last thing she needs is someone like you fucking with her heart. Which is why I want to make sure you hear me: You are to stay away from her.”

Gods, Rhys was such a drama king sometimes. “I solemnly swear I will stay away from her,” he says, lazily raising a hand like he was taking the witness stand.

“Good,” Rhys says shortly, “Because I want you to meet her.”

Azriel blinks. “Now?”

“Yes.” Rhys walks to the door and pulls the handle. “Be right back.”

Moments later, Rhys returns, a young woman by his side.

“Elain Archeron, meet Azriel De Valois, Senior Director of Investigation. Azriel, meet Elain Archeron, your new assistant.”

Elain smiles brightly and raises a hand in greeting. “Hi, Mr. De Valois. I’m so thrilled to be your new assistant. I’ve heard so many fantastic things about you.”

He was wrong in thinking this woman—Elain—would be pretty. She’s not. She is utterly, stunningly, shockingly beautiful. She has pale, creamy skin that looks as soft as her hair, which is the same golden-brown color as her sister’s but much longer, tumbling down to her waist in loose curls. She is rather short, too, but her legs are long and lithe, gracefully appearing beneath her prim and proper pencil skirt that on anyone else would look rather drab, but on her looks downright seductive.

And her eyes. Big and brown and captivating, bright with what he can already tell is genuine kindness. And it is this detail, this acknowledgement that the woman in front of him is not just heart-wrenchingly gorgeous but also innately and inherently good, that has the ironclad wall around his heart cracking just a little bit.

After a few beats of awkward silence, Azriel realizes that he is expected to say something. He snaps his jaw shut, hoping she doesn’t notice the faint blush heating his cheeks.

“Hello, Miss Archeron. Welcome to The Night Agency.” He steps forward on strangely shaky legs and holds out a hand.

Her smile, which had faded slightly during his obvious gaping, returns in full force. A few more cracks appear around his ruin of a heart. “Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.” She moves toward him and takes his outstretched hand, shaking it. The second her skin touches his, electricity shivers through him, an undeniable current of desire making its wicked way through his veins. This close, he can smell her perfume, lush jasmine and thick vanilla and something else. Something that seems like it belongs just to her, something fresh and pure and intoxicating.

Blood pools in his mouth as he bites his tongue in order to keep down the groan rising in his throat, and he forces himself to look away from her face. But he can’t resist letting his fingers run down her wrist, her arm, ever so slightly as they release hands. The small caresses have his jeans growing uncomfortably tight, and when he glances back up at Elain, he sees a similar glow in her eyes, a delicious blend of surprise and unadulterated heat.

“Well, Elain, let’s go get you settled in at your desk, shall we?” Rhys says pointedly, and whatever spell has wound its way around the two of them is broken.

“Oh, yes, okay,” Elain says, looking rather flustered. A pretty pink blush paints her high cheekbones, and Azriel can’t help but imagine all the other ways he could make her blush. All the sinfully sweet ways he could bring that glow back to her eyes.

Rhys holds the door open for Elain as she walks out, and Az gets a perfect view of her heart-shaped ass straining against that godsdamned pencil skirt, swaying as she walks gracefully down the hall in her kitten heels. Already he’s picturing her bending over his desk, perhaps to place a stack of paperwork there, and him sliding up behind her and pressing his hard cock right against her lucious curves—

“Azriel.” Rhys is still standing by the door, eyeing him with a very disapproving look on his face. “Remember what I said. You are to stay away from her.”

He swallows down the anger in his throat. “Understood.”

Rhys gives a swift nod. “Good.” Then he follows Elain down the hallway.

The second he’s out of sight, Azriel lets out a raspy breath and sinks into his chair.

Fucking hell. He buries his face in his hands and groans.

Rhys always keeps his promises. Unfortunately, Azriel cannot say the same about himself. And he is afraid that this time, it might just be his undoing.

__________

Tagging: @shedoessoshedoes @creatureofnightmares :)

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elrielfic #elriel fic #elrielmonth #elrielmonth2022 #my first ever attempt at a modern au #so please be nice lol #elain acotar #elain archeron #acotar #azriel

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danydragons21 · 3 years ago

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TSTS Chapter 25

I could spend the rest of my life apologizing for the long wait between chapters, but I'd rather just tell you how much I appreciate the support for TSTS and hope you like this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts. :)

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 25: Decay

It was late afternoon when Elain entered the conservatory for the first time since Koshei's attack. The cavernous, glass-walled room, once so full of vibrant color and light, was an empty shell of what it used to be. It reminded her of a graveyard - and she realized how close that thought was to the truth when the image of Phillip's motionless corpse flashed across her mind's eye.

If it was up to Elain, she wouldn't be here. But Lucien had suggested the conservatory as the meeting spot for healing power training, so here she was.

“I hate being here,” she said.

“I know,” Lucien responded. She looked at him, surprised. “That’s why I chose it,” he admitted. “Sometimes the best way to summon your powers - especially powers that you don’t have significant control over - is to enter a state of high emotion. It stirs up the magic, you see. And this place," he swept his arms around, "is certain to bring forth emotions."

Elain thought about the times she had called her powers forth without meaning to. When she was angry at her family. When she was angry at the unfair lot life had thrown at Vassa. That day in the conservatory with Koschei, and of course, in Pentalos. When she’d used her powers not to revive, but for the opposite effect.

She nodded. “That makes sense.” A shriveled violet lay abandoned on the conservatory floor. She bent down and picked it up. “The first time I ever really used my powers - without meaning to, of course - was here, in the conservatory. That day with Koschei. I was so angry, and I felt so helpless - so hopeless - and I picked up a rose and it just…happened. One second the rose was dead and the next it was fresh and vibrant in the palm of my hand.”

“That’s good,” Lucien said encouragingly. “That means we’re on the right track with inciting strong emotions.” He paused slightly. “Do you think you can try again?”

“I can try,” she said. “But expressing my emotions intentionally does not come easily to me.”

Lucien’s face was amused. “Perhaps you could teach Feyre a little of that self-control,” he teased, “When I met her, I was shocked by how…overly expressive she was. Is. You’d think with an older sister like you, she’d be a little better at controlling her emotions.”

Elain chuckled. “You’re forgetting that Feyre has two older sisters. She takes after Nesta much more.”

Lucien laughed, then continued talking in a more serious vein. “I’ve never trained someone to use their magic before. But I think the most important thing to start with is to accept this knowledge: magic is a part of you. It is embedded in your soul. It is every drop of blood running through your veins. It is your very essence.

“…But it is also quite finicky. Anything you are feeling - anything you want or hate or dread or love - your magic will respond in kind. High emotions like anger and hatred will bring forth your magic, but because the magic is responding to these uncontrollable, negative feelings, and because these feelings are as fleeting as they are emotionally draining, the strength of the magic is not nearly as powerful as it could be. It’s simply a reaction. What you need to do is learn how to summon your magic without relying on emotions like anger and fear.

“Healing magic works best when you exert all your focus onto positive emotions. Happiness, excitement, adoration, passion…love.” He said the last word quietly, and Elain couldn’t help but glance away. “While all emotions are inconstant in nature, positive emotions differ from negative ones in more than just sentiment - they leave a mark, a foundational building block, that you can draw from and use to aid your healing magic, rather than a negative or traumatic memory that will only detract from its potential.”

What Lucien was saying made sense. The night her magic was the strongest it had ever been - that night in Pentalos - she had been protecting Azriel. It hadn’t just been in her fear that incited her magic, but her intense care for him and the need to protect him. It had sparked her magic and elicited powers she’d not even been aware of.

It felt like a foggy mirror being wiped clean, the way this revelation cleared her confusion surrounding her healing magic. To summon her seer powers, she needed to be a blank slate - needed to empty herself of emotions and personal desires and everything that made her Elain Archeron and simply just be, letting those otherworldly visions speak to her instead. But to use her healing magic, she needed to capitalize on the love and devotion she felt toward others.

Healing was an act of selflessness. Of course it was strongest when one’s intentions were genuine and rooted in decency.

“Have you ever purged your magic?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“A purge. It’s when you cleanse your magic, so to say. Like running it through a stream and letting all the dirt and mud and nastiness drift away with the current.”

“No,” she answered slowly, though the idea of it sounded rather lovely. How pleasant would it be if humans were like that, capable of being rinsed and purified of sin so easily? So absolutely?

“Then that is how we will begin. Healers have to purge their magic frequently to keep it pure and unfettered. It is a delicate art, one that is affected easily by rot.”

“How does one purge their magic?” she asked curiously.

“You have to expel any built-up, supremely negative emotions. To focus on the positive…you must first feel the negative.”

She frowned. Pushing down her negative feelings, trivializing her traumatic experiences, ignoring repressed memories…those were three of her favorite coping mechanisms. And as ill-advised as they might be, they got her through the day, right?

But pretending her trauma was nonexistent certainly did not diminish the significant stains it had left on her soul. Perhaps it was time to try a different approach.

“Are you ready to begin?”

She steeled herself. Nodded.

“Close your eyes.”

She did.

“Take a deep breath.”

She did.

“What makes you angry, Elain?”

Her limbs went still, shocked at his blunt and straightforward question. If only she could summon her powers with how awkward she was feeling right now. But she had to try…

What made her angry? A lot of things, to be honest, none of which she particularly felt like telling Lucien, of all people.

“If you don’t feel comfortable answering, just think about it in your head,” he said kindly.

“Dead flowers,” she said in a rush, the first not-so-incriminating thing that popped into her head. Bright pink circles tinged her cheeks as she tensed. Would he think her answer was silly? It was true, though. She hated seeing dead flowers, hated seeing something so beautiful die from neglect. It made her unashamedly, albeit perhaps a bit unreasonably, angry.

“Okay,” Lucien said, and to his credit he did not sound amused in the slightest. Elain relaxed slightly. “What else?”

“When I’m woken up before I want to be.”

He chuckled. “Such a Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, and she smiled, wondering how he knew of the old human fairy tale, then remembering he’d been alive for quite a few centuries. He probably knew a million more things than she did.

“What else? Perhaps something a little deeper?”

A heavy swallow from Elain as she considered his question. “My sisters,” she finally answered. “Not always, of course, but sometimes…they make me very angry.”

“Why?”

“They have always been at each other’s throats. From the time we were children, and it’s better now, I suppose but…they were always fighting. Always angry. There was rarely peace.”

It was something she’d never admitted out loud, not even to Azriel. Certainly not to Nesta or Feyre. That there were remnants of resentment coiling in her gut still, to this very day, about all the times her sisters had played their tug-of-war game of fury. Most of the time, she was caught in the middle, expected to remain a neutral player. Never allowed to be angry herself.

A thrum of electricity shot through her veins, so strong she opened her eyes in surprise.

“Close your eyes,” he reprimanded her. She frowned but did as he said. “You felt something, didn’t you?” When she nodded, he continued excitedly, “Good. Good. What else?”

In a soft voice, she replied, “It makes me angry when decisions that I should make are made for me. When I am not in control of my own life.” Her heart was hammering against her chest. Another shock of power hummed through her.

“Good, Elain. Keep going. What makes you the angriest? What makes you absolutely livid? What fury do you hide behind that placid demeanor? Behind that perfect veil of poise?”

The flush had now spread over her entire body, and the primal rage he’d been trying to elicit from her rose with a vengeance - as did its usual companion of fear. Did he know what he was asking of her? That there was a reason she held her feelings and secrets so close to her chest and yet he was asking her to lay all her cards on the table? To do what she so rarely did, and for so few people, because to do so was to expose the shame and self-resentment that existed beneath the flimsy cover of her soul?

“You’re scared,” he mused, and she froze, wondering how he could possibly know that when she felt an uncomfortably familiar tug in her chest. The bond. It had been so long since the bond reacted this viscerally - even longer since it had happened while the two of them were alone. If ever.

The bond. The stupid, fucking bond that had marked her as someone not entirely herself within seconds of her immortal life beginning.

The male in front of her, asking all these maddening questions, the most integral element of the gods forsaken bond in question.

She knew it was irrational to blame him. He was just as chained as she was, wasn’t he? He had not asked for this either.

But just because you know it is wrong to be angry doesn’t mean you stop being angry.

“It’s infuriating, isn’t it?” Lucien asked.

“What?” Elain replied, taken aback.

“The bond. Our bond,” he said quietly. “It is infuriating that we were never given a choice. Or a chance.” The last word sounded so sad it made her sad, too. Though, she mused, she supposed she’d been sad about the bond for a very, very long time. And Lucien had been sad too, a fact that could have made her feel worse but actually made her feel better for a second. But then that sadness twisted into a fierce anger because they would never be free of the restrictive and confining knot tying them together, and it was so unfair, it was so fucking unfair to both of them -

And so Elain was feeling all these things - insatiable fury, sour humiliation, shared misery, bitter fear and the ubiquitous shame that lived beneath it all - and she did not know what to do. Did not know what to do with all of these scorching pieces that burned inside of her. Did not know how she was going to bottle all of this energy back up, fold it up until it fit nice and neat inside of her body.

“Do you feel your magic pulse within you? Feel the way it’s trying to claw its way out of your skin?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Let it. Let it out, Elain.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Because that was part of it, perhaps the biggest part; that if she wasn’t perfect and lovely and kind and sweet Elain who never upset anyone and stayed silent even when a better person would have screamed - what kind of ruin would occur? If they peeled back her shiny, duplicitous layers and discovered what rotted beneath, who would she hurt? Would anyone still love her, then? Would she herself ever be able to grow from the decay?

“You won’t.” He sounded so sure that a tear slipped down her cheek. “You’ll heal.”

Heal. It was all she needed to hear.

With a heaving sob, Elain let it out.

Let out every grimy, grubby feeling that had suffocated her for far too long. Let it out in a vivid and robust burst of magic that blew across the conservatory with a great, resounding whoosh. Her body shook and vibrated with innate power as it expelled that which had existed inside of her with no outlet, no relief, for far too long.

When the last of the roaring power had stopped rattling her bones, she opened her eyes. And gasped.

Color. Beautiful, vibrant flashes of color, of life, danced across her vision. Vines climbed halfway up the walls. Budding roses and lilies and gardenias, not yet fully bloomed but well on their way, were bunched together by the rows. Dark, rich soil lined the spaces between the still-growing blossoms. It wasn’t the conservatory as it was before Koschei’s attack, but within a few weeks, after the plants were given time to grow, she was sure it would be.

All that which had been destroyed was now revived.

And she understood, then, why purging your magic was compared to a cleanse. She felt renewed. Absolute in the aftermath of absolution. Bright and whole and imperfect, all at once. A lovely, warm contentment stole across her.

“Holy gods,” Lucien whispered. His one good eye was wide as he stared at her. “If that’s what you can do with negative energy…” He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder.

She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in months. Years. A lifetime.

“Let’s try again,” she said.

***

The wind bit and snapped at Azriel’s cheeks as he flew over the island, eyes scanning the surface to no avail.

Mikaou was located only a half-a-thousand miles or so from Pentalos, but before today, Azriel had never stepped foot on the island. It came as an unwelcome surprise. With wildly unpredictable temperatures, a significant lack of native inhabitants and the desolate, barren plains that coated its surface, Mikaou couldn’t be more opposite from his mother’s homeland.

He wasn’t at Mikaou for fun. A few days prior, spies from the Night Court had discovered Autumn Court soldiers on the island. While this sighting wasn’t new - there had been multiple sightings of Autumn Court soldiers on the islands off the coast of Prythian over the past few months, including Mikaou - the spies had noted a significant increase in the number of soldiers on this particular island. So Rhys had told Azriel to go check it out, and so he’d spent the last three days on this gods forsaken island searching for clues about the Autumn Court’s connection to the island.

His search was not going well. Much like his and Elain’s fruitless attempts to locate where the Autumn Court soldiers were stationed in Pentalos, he had not been able to find hide nor hair of the soldiers on Miakou. It was like the soldiers had the uncanny ability to disappear at the drop of a hat, and while winnowing was common enough among Fae, the vast majority did not possess enough innate power to winnow. The odds of every regular old foot soldier being able to do so was virtually impossible. It was the strangest, damndest, most infuriating thing. Where were they hiding? How were they able to conceal themselves so well?

And the question that gnawed at Azriel the most: what the hell were they doing there in the first place?

Assuming their theory about the Autumn Court working with Koschei was correct, then it would only be logical to assume that the soldiers were combing the islands looking for - or guarding - something that Koschei cared about.

There was only one thing Koschei cared about, but Azriel had no idea why the death lord would think the missing piece of his soul was located on Pentalos, Mikaou, or one of the other southern islands. If that was even the reason why the Autumn Court soldiers were there.

Azriel ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He hated not having all the pieces of information. He was the spymaster, for gods sake; if anyone was able to figure out this increasingly confounding mystery, it should be him, shouldn’t it? His failure to do so was not good for his reputation.

Ego aside, Azriel also couldn’t help but feel as if he was overlooking some very obvious clue. And as someone who never overlooked anything, this significant gap in knowledge was as haunting as it was problematic. If he and his superb network of spies couldn’t solve this mystery, who could?

Like so often these days, the thought of Elain flashed across his mind.

And Azriel had his answer.

***

While Azriel brooded over the mystery with the Autumn Court, Elain brooded over Vassa’s secret.

When she wasn’t training her healing powers with Lucien, Elain spent her time surreptitiously wandering the halls of the Manor, fully in spy mode. Vassa’s betrayal stung more than she cared to admit, but instead of letting that anger get the best of her, she decided to funnel her heightened emotions into the task at hand: finding out what the hell her “friend” was hiding.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t discovered anything out of the ordinary, unless you counted accidentally happening upon Jurian and a handmaiden in an otherwise abandoned corridor while the two were locked at the lips and thrashing around like a pair of sex-depraved eels. Thankfully, neither noticed Elain’s momentary presence, and she was able to escape without any awkward confrontation. Though she did have the sudden urge to scrub her eyes clean with soap.

Elain sat on her bed afterward, thinking. Clearly her brilliant plan of roaming the manor until a clue jumped out in front of her was foolish. She needed another angle.

Needed to try something else.

Despite her many months of seer training, Elain still had trouble calling forth visions on command. Sure, the premonitions appeared clearer and more consistently than before, but she still hadn’t mastered the knack of seeing exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. But there was no time like the present, and ever since her and Lucien’s training session the other day, her entire being felt lighter. She may as well try and see if the purge had strengthened her seer powers as well as her healing ones.

Steeling herself, she folded her legs underneath her and inhaled deeply. Slowly but surely, her muscles relaxed. The tension weighing on her body and mind lifted. She relished in the comforting mindlessness for a moment, and then let herself ask for exactly what she wanted.

Vassa. Show me what Vassa is hiding. Show me what she is keeping from me.

For a few seconds, all Elain saw was the darkness behind her eyelids. But she didn’t let frustration take over. She just focused on her breathing, on keeping her mind settled, and on singing to her shadows as best she could.

It didn’t even surprise her when, a moment later, a vivid scene began to play out in her mind. Vassa was standing in the library of the Mortal Manor. Elain had only been there once before, but the shelves full of books that lined every inch of wall and wound up to the ceiling made the location obvious. The bright crimson dress Vassa wore also struck a chord - it was the same dress she’d been wearing at breakfast this morning. This vision must take place in the very near future.

Vassa was perusing a heavy tome with furrowed brows. She flipped through the pages feverishly. It was clear she was looking for something specific, and when a flash of recognition ran across Vassa’s face, Elain knew that she had found it.

The queen grabbed a pen off a nearby table and scribbled something in the book, then snapped it shut with a look of grim acceptance.

The slamming of the book served as the abrupt end to Elain’s vision. She blinked, taking in her surroundings, reacquainting herself with reality.

A minute later, she had a plan.

The plan went into motion late that evening when, a few strikes before midnight, Elain slipped out of her bed. She crept down the dark hallways wearing a nightgown, loose robe and silky socks that made it easy for her to slip undetected through the manor.

Reaching the library, Elain hesitantly pushed on the heavy oak door. It opened with an echoing creak; Elain winced. Some spy she was. She had probably just woken up the whole Manor! But after a few minutes, when no sounds of a suspicious arrival appeared, her chest relaxed. She was glad that Lucien had departed for the Spring Court earlier that morning, because sneaking around a bunch of mortals was one thing; sneaking around a skilled Fae with superior hearing and scent was quite another.

Grabbing the nearest book she could find, Elain used it to prop open the door, preventing any more incriminating noises. Then she turned to face the darkened room before her. Using her heightened Fae senses and the moonlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she was able to easily see the corner of the room where Vassa had stood and pored over books earlier that day.

Elain slowly started walking among the books on the shelves, hoping one of the titles struck a chord of significance. Every so often, she’d pull a book off the shelf at random and flip through it, just to see if anything jumped out at her, but she’d had no luck thus far.

Finally, after about 10 minutes of perusing, she came across a book that carried Vassa’s scent so strongly it must be one the queen had recently touched.

Tilting her head sideways, she read the title stamped on the spine: THE ROYAL LINEAGE. Elain plucked the book off the shelf and thumbed through it. It seemed to be a detailed account of the ancestral lines that made up human royal families, dating back at least a thousand centuries. Maybe more. Either way, the knowledge held in this book certainly predated any of the Fae she knew, which was an impressive feat in and of itself.

But why was Vassa so interested in it? Was the information inside this book important in the fight against Koschei? Did it have anything to do with the secret she was keeping from Elain?

Eyes narrowed in concentration, Elain continued to flip through the book until something caught her eye. She brought the book closer. Written in the margin in cramped, cursive handwriting was one word, followed by an inexplicable question mark:

Celians?

If Elain was confused before, she was baffled now. What or who was a Celian? Her first thought was that it sounded like someone’s first name, but the plurality had her quickly dismissing that theory.

She turned her attention to the paragraph beside the scribbled word. It listed a bunch of mortal families that Elain had never heard of before.

Frustration rushed through her. Could Vassa not have left such a cryptic clue? Elain wasn’t even sure if this had anything to do with the secret the queen was keeping from her. Gods, it was all so -

“Enjoying your midnight stroll?” asked a voice behind her.

Elain slammed the book shut at the same time a scream crawled up her throat, but before she could release it, Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth.

“So jumpy,” he murmured in her ear.

Slowly, Azriel removed his hand from her mouth, but not before running a calloused thumb over her lip. A shiver danced down her spine.

“Should I be worried that you seem to find such joy in scaring me?” she asked.

“Very worried,” he answered seriously. He released her. Elain turned around, swallowing heavily as she met his hazel gaze.

"How did the mission go?"

"Good." He took a step back, surveying her hungrily with those penetrating eyes. After a beat, a slight frown graced his devastatingly gorgeous face. His stare darkened.

“Why are you wearing that?”

She glanced down at her nightgown. “Because it’s nighttime?” she replied bemusedly.

“So you just walked around the manor dressed in this? When anyone could have woken up and seen you?” Though his tone was cool and controlled as ever, a dangerous edge laced every word.

“Um…yes?”

The taut lines of his jaw tightened. He shook his head, his disapproval a living, tangible thing. “Were you hoping someone would see you wearing this tiny, sheer thing?” His long fingers thumbed the lacy edge of her gown, twitching slightly, as if he longed to tear it to shreds.

Elain had seen many sides of Az, but this one - this dominant and slightly intimidating version - had her toes curling in her slippers. The thrill-seeker in Elain decided to stoke the fire a little more.

“Careful, Az,” she cooed, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Within a heartbeat, Azriel had her pinned against the bookcase, several spines of books digging into her back. “Of course I’m jealous,” he grated out, eyes full of lust and an animalistic fervor that, instead of scaring her, merely turned her on even more. With two long fingers under her chin, he tipped her head up. “I don’t like anyone else seeing what is mine.”

Mine. The thumping of her heart had reached a nearly chaotic pace.

“Yours?” she whispered back, trying to keep a modicum of control. “So possessive, Spymaster.”

“That,” he said, tracing his lips across the sharp lines of her jaw, “is an understatement.” A moment later, Elain found herself facing the bookshelf. He lifted the hem of her gown up to her waist, exposing her lower half. A growl guttered through his throat as he saw that she was completely bare beneath, which in hindsight had been a very risky move on her part.

“No panties? I swear to the gods, Elain, it’s like you’re begging for a punishment,” he rasped.

A strangled whimper escaped her throat. His dominant words, the dark promise they held, and the undeniable fact that she really wanted to know what kind of punishment he had in mind had her pussy throbbing hotly. Moisture dripped down her thighs, and she knew it was obvious to Azriel that she was absolutely and utterly soaked. No foreplay necessary.

He spread her cheeks wide for a moment, inhaling raggedly, before hooking one arm around her waist and holding her tight to his board chest. She let out a pathetic mewl when she felt his thick, hard length digging into her back. His other hand gathered her long hair and pulled, just this side of rough, baring her neck to him.

“Az,” she whispered as his lips danced down her throat. His hot breath over her racing pulse sent yet another rush of heat between her legs. Instinctively, her back arched, breasts pushed up directly in his eyeline. When he noticed, he let out a low growl and grasped both of her breasts in each of his massive hands, massaging and twisting her already rock-hard nipples.

“We should go to the bedroom.” Her voice was nothing but a broken whisper as his nimble fingers started untying the laces on her bodice, lips never leaving her throat. She was beginning to think he had a slight obsession with that part of her body.

Not that she minded. Not at all.

“Someone could hear us.” A sudden nip to the center of her throat made her gasp.

“I can’t wait,” he rasped, running his hot and wet tongue sweetly over the affronted area. She let out a soft moan.

Anticipation gripped her in full force as his shadows suddenly twisted out of thin air. They wrapped around her wrists and lifted them until her fingers clung to the shelf before her. Then they disappeared as quickly as they’d come.

She inhaled sharply and tensed up when the tip of his cock slid across her folds.

He paused. "Okay?" he breathed in her ear. Her heart warmed. Despite his daunting demeanor and dark threats, he would never do anything she didn't want him to. She gave an eager nod.

“Hold on,” Azriel warned, and then he was pushing inside of her, filling her completely in one mighty thrust, and their quiet moans and groans and heavy breathing echoed throughout the library, and if anyone walked by they would no doubt hear them in the throes of pleasure, but Elain had never cared less about impropriety, had never cared about anything as much as living fully in this glorious moment of ecstasy for as long as possible -

Elain pressed up on her tip-toes, adjusting the angle ever so slightly, and on Azriel’s next thrust, he hit a spot inside of her that sent waves of tingling pleasure all throughout her body.“Ohhhh,” Elain moaned. Her center clenched greedily around his member, like it was refusing to ever let go of such a good and wonderful thing.

“I can feel you milking my cock,” Azriel groaned. “Just like - fuck, just like that,” he panted out when she squeezed him again, intentionally this time. She loved how good it felt, how right, but she loved how it unraveled him even more.

“Oh gods,” she said breathlessly. “I missed you.”

Elain stiffened. She hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but the words had poured out of her mouth anyway, and now she couldn’t take it back. It wasn’t like she didn’t mean it, but it sounded so…coupley. And she might not know where she and Azriel stood relationship-wise, but she knew they were most certainly not a couple.

But Azriel just leaned forward and kissed her temple. “Is that right?” he asked, his movement sweeter and slower now. “You missed my cock buried deep inside your little wet pussy?”

“Yes,” she said as her body began to shake, the pleasure threatening to destabilize her. Azriel’s grip on her waist tightened as he held her up.

“Did you think about this when I was gone? Did you think about how full I make you feel?”

“Every night,” she breathed back, eyes rolling to the back of her head as his balls slapped against her clit on his next stroke.

Suddenly, Azriel ceased moving. He took his hands off her and stepped backward until the only part of him that touched her was tip of his length still inside of her slit, the most torturous of teases.

“Show me what you thought about, ‘Lain. Show me how much you thought about fucking that sweet, juicy cunt on my big cock.”

Lust-riddled and desperate for release, Elain did the only thing that she could: she began moving backwards, fucking herself on his rigid member, clutching onto the wooden edge of the bookshelf like it was a lifeline.

“Gods, that’s sexy,” he moaned roughly, which made her moan in turn. “So perfect, Elain. You always feel so perfect I can hardly believe it.”

And then, as if he couldn’t control himself, he gripped her hips and thrust forward into her with a vengeance. His mouth found a groove between her neck and chin and sucked relentlessly.

That was all Elain needed to fall over the edge. The orgasm hit her fast and hard, and she barely registered the obscene noises coming out of her mouth as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Azriel, unable to hold out any longer now that her pussy was throbbing around him uncontrollably, came inside her shortly after.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Azriel scooped her up in his arms. The force of her climax had exhausted her completely, and her eyes were still closed. Azriel twisted, and when Elain finally opened her eyes, she saw not the library but her bedroom.

With heart wrenching gentleness, Azriel laid her down on the bed. She didn’t hesitate before she gripped his arm and tugged him forward. “Stay,” she said. And he didn’t hesitate to climb in immediately after.

She curled against his chest, something settling deep within her. He mindlessly began stroking her hair. She hummed in pleasure, and within a minute was out cold.

Azriel watched her sleep for a moment, reveling in her decadent serenity.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he murmured, even though he knew she could not hear him. “So fucking much.”

And with that, he continued stroking her hair.

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