#like calls to like

[acourtofthought]

I'm not saying Sarah will go this route but the fact that it's valid to say Lucien could be a contender for the High King role based off his cunning, his ability to make friends wherever he goes, his desire to avoid violence and the way he's always focused on the good of the many rather than what's best for just those he's closest too along with it also being valid to say that Elain would make an equally excellent High Queen (based off her wisdom, her skill in talking to others and a desire to maintain the peace rather than wanting to get her way through force / manipulation) while it then also being valid to say Az would not make a good High King and would not be a contender for the position (truly no offense to Az but he has too much of a temper and has little desire to socialize with those outside the IC or engage in court politics), makes it all the more clear to me that E/riel was never going to be endgame. Sarah would not have written Elain to end up with someone who was also not capable of ruling by her side, whether it be as High Lady or something more especially when she already set up Elain's mate to be the heir of a High Lord and left clues that she could be the one to save the Spring Court.

[bookfanatic06]

I haven’t written anything in over a decade, but this head canon just won’t go away. I’ve often wondered if the idea of “like calls to like” will be prevalent in Elriel’s book like in all the others. I really feel like Elain is hiding some deep shit that just can’t be ignored. This piece is really what I think could happen if Elain deep down shares Azriel’s penchant for self loathing and low self esteem. She gets so much crap from the fandom for being boring, I really see her surprising us with some darker personality traits.

Also, my favorite thing about this other than the Elriel fluff is Nesta. I wanted to see her and Elain making up after the events of ACOSF on page. I didn’t hate Nesta, just thought she treated my baby El poorly.

I’m not sure if I’ll write more to this, or if it’s going to stay a one shot. I’m also not sure if I’m ready to post to AO3. I’m a mom with 3 kids and a full time teaching gig. I’m not sure I have it in me.

So here is my first shot at writing Elriel.

Unworthy

Words: 5112

Angst/Romance

Pairings: Major: Elain Archeron/Azriel,

Minor: Feyre/Rhysand, Cassian/Nesta, Varian/Amren

———————

Remember who you are, Kingslayer.

She breathes to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, plastering on the smile she knows her family would never second guess. Perfected so much over the years in her mother’s keep, as she was taught to never reveal her true emotions, to never let anyone see the heartbreak, the pain of unworthiness embedded in her very soul.

The dreams plaguing her at the moment, the ones that increase with the unyielding torrent of emotions swirling in her mind, are of her family having lost their use of her. That she has become a burden that they can cast aside so needlessly. So she sits at the mirror and contemplates how to be helpful. She’ll practice those new recipes that she received from that fae female at the market. She’ll make the gardens of Velaris so beautiful, people will ask for her. She’ll care for Nyx when his parents need a break.

But still, she feels the hole in her chest and wonders if it’ll be enough. Will she forever be cast aside or passed over in favor of her sisters because of their far more important accomplishments?

What exactly has she accomplished?

I killed the King of Hybern. She whispers so that only the shadows can hear. Not Nesta, as all of Prythian seemed to believe. She knows she pushed that knife into his throat, she still dreams about it; still feels the hilt of the blade in her hands. Even the shadows, the ones that she felt the comforting presence of for so long, have gone quiet since solstice.

She knows that her sisters are magnificent. That they both have earned their right to voice their opinions and be cherished in this world. Feyre, the High Lady that the Night Court deserves, and Nesta, the warrior she was always meant to be. But Elain, she carries the weight of unworthiness everywhere she goes. She wasn’t born to lead, she wasn’t born to be a warrior. She was born with a gentle heart, with a delicate resolve. But a will of iron.

You shoved that knife into his neck. You aren’t as gentle as you believe yourself to be.

She’s intimately familiar with self loathing by now. It curls around her like the vines that wrap around the fortress of her mind. But that voice, the voice that is hers, but much more confidently so, tries to remind her of what she has to offer. Her heart breaks as the self loathing pushes through whispers, “He doesn’t want someone who is brittle and weak. He wants someone courageous, someone with fire in their heart, someone like…”

Mor.

Despite the months that have passed since she found herself alone in the foyer in the early morning hours of Winter Solstice, she is still tortured by the thought that even her dearest friend, or whom she believed him to be, had been repulsed by her meritless existence. The pain of that night has yet to ebb, and she wonders if, at some point in her immortal life, it ever will.

She huffs a breath and stands from her vanity, moving to open the door and walk into the hallway, that gentle but false smile she’s perfected on her face.

As she reaches the kitchen, she is surprised to find Feyre, eyes clouded with sleep, hair poking out of the halfhearted braid she probably threw together before bed the previous night, holding a bottle to Nyx’s whimpering mouth.

“I think he’s starting to teethe. He’s been like this all night.” Feyre’s eyes flicker to Elain quickly before resting on her son’s mouth as it attaches to the bottle and then detaches with a small wail. Elain opens her arms, a silent request to take over – and make herself useful.

“I’ll take him, you go get some sleep.” She says gently, taking the babe into her arms. Feyre gives her a tired smile.

“Rhys and I are so lucky to have you here with us, El.”

Elain’s false smile returns to her features, and before she can give herself away, she shoos her sister out of the kitchen to take over as Nyx’s caregiver. She cradles her nephew to her, his chest to her own, rubbing circles on his back, between his little wings as she’s watched her sister and Rhys do time and time again. For a moment, the hole in her heart fills with the love she has for the babe in her arms. It doesn’t escape her, that if her life hadn’t so explicitly changed thanks to the betrayal that left her at the mercy of The Cauldron, she would probably have a babe of her very own by now. THAT thought doesn’t hurt as much as she thinks it should.

Because a child with Grayson would have been a monumental mistake.

The thought is gone as fast as it had come. That’s one part of her life that she is resolute in. Being Grayson’s wife, the mother to his brood, would NOT have been a step up from her current existence. She’s not sure how she knows that, perhaps from watching how Feyre and Nesta are treated by their mates. The unmatched adoration, the passion between the mates that she can sense from the couples as she plays the fifth wheel.

Why don’t I feel that way towards my own?

It’s not lost on her that she covets the bond her sisters have with their mates; what it must feel like knowing that your mate would give their very lives for your happiness. Her and her mate can barely be in the same room as each other, the bond an uncomfortable tether pulling at her rib.

She had once asked how it felt for her sisters, to see if the bond was true…

“It’s a blossoming warmth in my chest. The pull to Rhys is oftentimes so strong that I can't imagine my life before him.” Feyre had told her.

Her and her mate definitely could not relate.

But that warmth, she could have sworn she felt it before. When three fae males had walked into her home in the humanlands, and she had chanced a glance into the hazel eyes of the fae male with sapphire gems on his leathers. His gaze had caused her breath to catch, and every once in a while, when the war was over and she would be in his presence again, she would find herself looking into those eyes and she could almost feel the ghost of that warmth in her chest. Her breath would catch every time.

That hole was deep and chilled now.

The circles she’s been rubbing on her nephew’s back have quieted his little whimpers and he’s quiet on her chest as she moves to the window overlooking the gardens she’s cared for all these months. The gardens bloom in the vibrant colors of late spring. In her angst, she just wishes that the loveliness of the flowers she’s cultivated filled that hole in her chest that she so achingly wants to forget. An ache that, for the moment, her nephew in her arms has dulled significantly.

“Little one, you hold my heart in your hands.” She whispers as she kisses the thick black hair on his tiny head. At two months old, Nyx is the splitting image of his father, with Feyre’s temper to boot.

She sways back and forth, Nyx a solid presence, a weight holding her down to this earth. She almost misses the sound of the front door opening, but turns just in time to see the eyes of the male who still so captivated her thoughts.

No words are exchanged but he sends her a quick nod of acknowledgement as her own eyes quickly return to her nephew’s sleeping form. Her heart thundering in her empty chest. Before she can return her gaze to where the male stood, he is gone. Leaving her alone with that chasm in-between her ribs. The feeling of unworthiness crawling back into her thoughts.

He’s too good for me anyway.

She walks silently to the nursery, opting to place Nyx in his crib to attempt to get some breakfast prepared. She leaves the door slightly ajar, in case he awakens while she is cooking in the kitchen. Her fae hearing attuned to his little cries.

In the kitchen, she washes her hands and pulls out what is necessary for a quick meal. Bacon, eggs, some leftover scones from the pantry that she can reheat for her family to enjoy. She’s startled when Rhys and his companion walk briskly down the hall and through the foyer to the front door. Their voices quiet but unmistakable.

“All I need is 24 hours of rest and then I can head back down into the tunnels.” his deep tenor voice feels like a balm to her aching chest.

“Take the week, you look like you haven’t slept in months.” A pause and a sigh.

“I can always count on you for a confidence boost, Rhys.” She can feel the small smile gracing his lips as he speaks with his brother.

“I’m serious, Az. You’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. Take the week. Clean yourself up, eat a few hot meals, and sleep.” She wonders if this pause after Rhys speaks is meant to last as long as it does in her mind.

“Okay.” It’s breathless, and she can feel the exhaustion behind every syllable.

“Come to the kitchen. I’m sure Elain is whipping up something for breakfast. It’ll do you well to get something into your stomach.” She bites her lip at the invitation. He hasn’t had a meal in her presence in months, since before Nyx’s arrival, possibly not since Winter Solstice, but she’s unable to remember.

Elain straightens her spine, contemplating whether she should look in the pantry for some potatoes to add to her small spread. Her thoughts are interrupted by his forlorn response.

“I should really get back to the House of Wind, Nesta and Cassian are waiting for me.” An obvious lie and she feels like the remnants of her heart have turned liquid and puddled on the floor.

“Ask the House to make you something nice.” Rhys’ voice takes on a worried tone.

“I will.”

She holds back the tears threatening to spill as she hears his boots take him to the door and then outside. The heartbreak is still as tangible as it was months ago.

If Rhys notices the silver in her eyes when he strides into the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. Just kisses her sweetly on the cheek and smiles,

“Good morning, Dear Sister.”

—————-

It’s a few nights later, while her family, sans Mor and Amren, sits at the dinner table eating the roast and potatoes she and the twins had been slow cooking over the course of the day, that Nesta looks at the empty chair across the table and says with worry gracing her normally icy gaze, “when are you going to start ordering Azriel to attend family dinners?”

Cassian places a hand on her knee as if to say NOT NOW.

She shrugs him off. Giving him that icy stare that’s become her calling card, “He’s a shell of himself. Even more closed off and broody than ever. He crawls around those tunnels and pokes his head out for a day or two and then heads right back in. The bags under his eyes are darker than yours” she points at Rhys. “And he doesn’t have a newborn to account for it.”

Elain sits up at that, heart sputtering as if she can feel him. As if she can feel the darkness pulling him under.

Maybe she can.

“I’m worried. Cassian is too; he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Az is working himself to death.” Elain puts a hand to her chest, as if that hand could hold her heart into place.

“Az is working very hard to get the answers we need about the Daglan and protect all of us, Nesta.” Feyre states gently, holding Nesta’s gaze as they narrow.

“But he shouldn’t HAVE to. We could rotate duties. We can go down there for a few days and let him rest.”

“This is what he wants, Nesta. He’s volunteered.” Rhys’ response is like an ash arrow to her gut.

“And why would he volunteer to do this assignment and be away from his family for so long if he was genuinely happy, Rhysand?” The room falls silent and the remnants of the meal she’s so thoughtfully made is ash on her tongue.

He’s not happy. That word, once vocalized, is hard for her to break from her thoughts. Azriel is unhappy.

It's her fault.

She grips the fork in her hand so tight the metal bends. It’s her fault because she read his intentions wrong on solstice. He is avoiding their family because she made things so awkward between them that he can’t bear to be in the same room as her. Nesta glances at her direction as if she can sense that feeling of worthlessness creeping into Elain’s body. Before Nesta can say anything, Cassian places his hand in hers.

“You’re right, Nes. We need to find out what’s going on with Az. I’ll ask Mor to visit him and get him to work through it. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Mor.”

And there was that feeling again. The feeling of a heart shattering, her lungs struggling to expand as her friends begin to plan for the intervention of the male who she so loved, even if he wanted nothing to do with her.

———————

Azriel was many things, within the last year or so, he’d resolved to adding foolish to his attributes. Foolish for thinking that he could be loved for the male he was, foolish for thinking he had any right to the happiness he saw in the faces of his brothers, and foolish to think that he could be hers.

It plagued him daily, the pull to a female that belonged to another. That he was not deemed worthy by the Cauldron of the female that held his heart, but that one of the sons of Autumn was.

She belongs to no one but herself. His shadows, his only companions, whisper.

It was a small mercy that she seemed as uninterested in her mate as her mate is with her. That she was once so willing to spend time with him despite being mated to someone else. That she was once happy to be his friend.

And now, they were nothing.

That thought buried deep inside of him, burrowed into his bones and tore through his limbs.

So he cut himself out of her world. He threw himself into his work. He trudged through the tunnels under the Night Court and pretended that he was keeping his family safe from the Daglan, when in reality, he was avoiding them.

It was another grueling pass through the tunnels. His eyes slowly adjusting from the change in light when he stepped out of the dark and into the quiet grasses surrounding the opening to the tunnels that have become his tomb. He had promised to wait a week to return to his work, but the ache in his chest had him packed and ready to continue his mission only 3 days after his last excursion. After a week of fighting through the tunnels, sliding Truthteller through the folds of the various beasts that inhabited the chasms below, his exhaustion was threatening to take his knees out from under him.

So he gathered what little strength he had left, and flew himself to the House of Wind.

And it was a mistake.

Nesta stood in the middle of the training pit, arms crossed. The rest of the priestesses were long gone by the early-afternoon. Precisely why he had chosen this time to fly back to the house, a feeble attempt to hide from everyone. He landed with a little less grace than intended, and as he took a glance at Nesta, he could have sworn that the silver flames that had been given back to The Cauldron to save her sister were still present in her eyes as she stared back at him disapprovingly.

“So you’re volunteering for these tunnel missions, huh?”

Azriel sighed. He learned long ago that arguing with Nesta was futile, that she would never let him go without a word.

“My schedule is open.” He shrugged absently.

“The hels it is, Az!” She bellowed, looking him up and down for a sign of…what exactly?

“Are you hurt?” She asked, this time with a gentleness not many would associate with the accomplished warrior, Lady Death.

“I’m fine.”

She continued to observe him, not completely believing he was all well and good. She noted his tired eyes, his rigid shoulders.

“What’s going on, Az? You’re like a ghost, never staying long enough to rest. Barely managing to function. This is so unlike you—-“ it pained him to interrupt, but the unworthiness creeped into his chest at her care for him.

“—this is me, Nes. It’s been me for 540 years. You’ve only glimpsed a small part of my life. I’ve always been like this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She says through her teeth, the frustration evident in her voice, in her posture. Azriel bows his head in a movement meant to placate the female before him. She sighs, and with a voice far calmer than she’s treated him with thus far speaks.

“She’s a ghost, too.”

He knows who she’s talking about immediately. And he dares not let her know that he’s affected by those words. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to go around her. She stops him with her palm to his chest, right where his heart should be.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know that the last time I’ve seen her smile, her real smile, was when you were the one to put it on her face.” The hole in his chest is infinitely bigger as Nesta moves her hand and places it gently on his arm.

“Be present, Az. We love you. She—loves you.”

Az is sure that Nesta means he is loved in a friendly way, but the idea of being loved by Elain Archeron makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He nods his head, words failing him.

“Everyone is coming here for dinner tonight.” Nesta states firmly. “Get cleaned up and meet us in the dining room at 5.” She shuffles past him to reach the door to the house and smiles mischievously at him behind her.

There’s no hiding from them now. Nesta will hunt him down until he appears. So he plans to arrive for dinner even as his brain tells him to run.

——————

Elain stares at her sister as she repeats the itinerary for the day, eyes wide as she questions Feyre over the plan to “meet Nesta and Cassian at the House for dinner.”

Elain is confused. Never has Nesta invited them to the House for dinner. Tea, on occasion. Training, frequently. Never dinner.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, trying not to let her nerves show.

“She just misses us.” Feyre smiles, and although Elain is suspicious, she gives her little sister a genuine smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

And if her nerves intensify as her sister’s mate puts her down gently on the balcony of the House of Wind a few hours later, she doesn’t let it show, because she can absolutely scent the one person she is anxious to see the most.

Azriel is here.

And it takes all of her mother’s etiquette training to hold her head up high and enter the dining room to see his gorgeous, but somber face. A face she’s conflicted to commit to memory. He looks so tired, she muses. And despite the ache in her chest, the unworthiness that her mind flashes into her skull, seeing him is like breathing air after drowning, and she can’t look away.

Dinner commences and for the first time in months, the smile on her face is real. Everyone she loves is at the table, Mor and Feyre chatting animatedly with each other. Amren, Rhys, and Varian are lost in their own conversation about the Summer Court. Elain chances a look at the glorious Shadowsinger across from her. He’s impressive as usual, but she notes that his shadows are moving lithe around him, as if they are also exhausted from his travels. His eyes meet hers, and that warmth in her chest that only he can provide blossoms under his gaze. And she smiles, for real, and she thinks she sees the corner of his own mouth move up slightly.

It’s only when the meal is done and the House takes the dishes away that Rhys and Feyre take Nyx home to bed. Amren and Varian go back to Amren’s apartment, and Azriel excuses himself to finally get some rest. The rest of the family moves to the sitting room to continue to chat and Elain sits with them, appearing to listen to their conversation, but barely hearing what is being said. Her thoughts are helplessly on the male asleep somewhere in this house.

“Elain, would you like to stay here tonight?” Nesta asks with a beautiful smile on her face that captures Elain’s attention. She points a finger at her mate and says, “It’s easier for this old man to fly in the daytime. His eyesight is going poorly, and Mor is too drunk to take herself home, let alone you.” Nesta nods her head towards the beautiful blonde already falling asleep on the sofa across from her. Cassian scoffs.

“539 is NOT old.” He crows indignantly. The sisters erupt into laughter but Elain can’t help but think that her sister is only asking for her to stay because it’ll make things easier, and not because she wants her there. As the others begin to move towards their bedrooms, Nesta stops Elain with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I know I haven’t been the kind of sister you deserve, Elain. I want to make that up to you. I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. I want to sit and talk to you about your life. I want to show you that I’m trying, that I’m here for you.” Elain’s chest expands with hope and a love she can only have for Nesta.

“I would like that very much.” She smiles. And Nesta offers to show her her bedroom for the night. The two walk arm in arm as they move through the house until they come upon the door of a room at the far end of the hallway. The room she’s given is warm and inviting, with a giant bed covered in lilac sheets. There’s a fireplace in the corner that is not in use due to the late spring warmth, but the double doors opening to the balcony overlooking Velaris is the crowning feature. She bids Nesta goodnight, with a promise to meet in the dining room for breakfast, and immediately heads for the balcony after Nesta shuts the bedroom door behind her.

What Elain doesn’t expect, is to end up sharing a balcony with the Shadowsinger himself.

And it appears he’s just as surprised as she is.

“H—hi” she breathes. Taking in his tall form in the shadows of the night. He’s seated on the edge of the balcony’s railing, one leg hanging over the edge while the knee of his other leg is bent for balance on the railing. His glorious wings are tight against his back, the bottoms on either side of the balcony. His hazel eyes, the ones that torment her in her dreams, are wide.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you— or anyone, would be here—on the balcony, I mean.” She stammers as she looks down at her feet in embarrassment. He’s still quiet in front of her, and she curses the fact that the Cauldron didn’t boil her alive when it had the chance.

“I—I’ll just go…” she says and begins to move. She’s vaguely aware of him sitting up straighter than before.

“No, please— don’t.” His deep voice is a whisper that her fae ears only hear because she’s desperate to hear his voice again. She wouldn’t miss his first words to her in months for anything in this world. She swallows, unsure of how to proceed. Any courage she might have deep within her, sputtering.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says louder, with conviction, and that hole in her chest feels the fullest it’s been in months.

“I don’t want to leave, either.” She says confidently. Her courage soars with the vibrancy of his words.

“I miss you.” He adds gently, finally meeting her gaze, and she’s at a loss. This male who has captivated her body and spirit for years now. Whom she thought was angry with her. Who walked away from her on solstice and didn’t look back.

“Then why?” She whispers back, a silver tear escaping and trailing down her pale cheek. The question is open ended, but he knows what she means.

“Because I am unworthy of you.” He admits. The self loathing in his voice matches her own every time she thinks about him.

“Of course you are. If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

“Never.” He replies instantly, but she waves him off. Moving to his side, eyes peering at his form under the stars, tears falling down both cheeks now.

“You are kind, Azriel. You are gentle, and you are courageous. You’ve fought on the battlefield, and you protect the people of this court, of this family. I bake bread, watch Nyx, and plant seeds in the garden. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.”

The air between them crackles with the intensity of his gaze. He moves, and before she can loose a breath, his scarred hands are wiping the tears from her skin.

“How can you not see how incredible you are, Elain?” He speaks softly, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her cheeks. “You put the needs of others in front of your own. You bake bread, watch Nyx, and build gardens to bring comfort and beauty to those around you. In a world of war and bloodshed, you are reminder that there are things out there so beautiful it’s worth fighting for.” She gasps at the depth of his stare. “You are everything I could ever hope for, but I can’t have you.” The words he’s spoken break something within her. Her hands land on his own on her cheeks, and she uses them to push his away, to push him away. Confusion gracing her features.

“And why can’t you have me? Why have you shut me out all of these months?”

He thinks carefully at how to respond. It’s in his best interest to lie, the rage in her beautiful brown eyes cuts him further than any blade and he pauses for a moment.

Rhys will mist him for revealing the truth. He’s disobeying his order right now, just being alone with the female that possesses his heart and soul. But he finds that lying to her is impossible. That he would rather be misted than lie to the female before him.

“Because I have been ordered to stay away from you.” He says with deep remorse.

The earth ceases to rotate for Elain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She stares in horror and Azriel wonders if he’s made a grave mistake.

“Rhys?” She whispers. He nods.

“But—why?” The devastation in her voice is palpable, and he wants nothing more than to fly to the river house, despite his exhaustion, and hit his brother in his pretty face.

“You have a mate, Elain.” She scoffs. Ready to deny such a thing. He weighs his words carefully before he continues. “Our—involvement could have severe consequences for the Night Court.”

“What consequences?” She asks, in an eerily calm voice that he doesn’t recognize. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for her ire.

“The Autumn Court has an archaic tradition that allows for a mate to call for a blood duel against any male that threatens his mating bond. Lucien or Beron have the right to challenge me to that blood duel if you and I—“

Elain looks up into his eyes, horrified at the realization that this is what is keeping them apart.

“—but I would fight for you. Rhys knows it. And I would win, because there would be no chance in this lifetime that I would give up a life with you if I had the choice. But if I were to kill Lucien in a blood duel—“ he pauses. “Beron can enact revenge by calling for war against the Night Court.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her chest, that was finally full only recently, is hollowed out and bleeding down to her toes. Rhys has deemed them unworthy of each other. Have deemed them unworthy of his protection. Unworthy of the Night Court’s protection. She steps forward, so that her breath mixes with his. He’s stunned for a moment, peering down into her face, determination and understanding amongst the many emotions crossing her features.

“I would rather have you in secret, than not at all.” She says so quietly that only the two of them can hear and places her hand on his chest where his heart beats against it. He’s dumbfounded for a moment.

She’s choosing him?

“Are you sure?” He whispers just as quietly, so that only her and the Mother can hear him.

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of her mouth when his lips meet hers in a kiss that stops the world around them. It’s soft and gentle, just like they are, but Elain swears that this feeling in her chest, at finally tasting the male of her dreams, is the same one her sisters have so lovingly described about their mates.

How can this not be it? They both muse to themselves.

His lips move slowly against her own, savoring her taste, committing it to memory. She has chosen him. She is willing to risk war and their family’s loyalty for him. He will never understand why, but he’s too far gone to talk her out of it.

They stay on the balcony until the early morning hours, touching, tasting, and chasing away the demon of unworthiness inside of each other. Because even if their family or the Night Court didn’t need them, they found out that night that they needed each other.

Fin (or is it?)

[azrielsfavoriteshadow]

Antis making fun of Lucien for “being homeless,” but this man has been able to create a home with whomever and wherever he has had to.

Sounds a bit like his mate, but maybe that’s just me.

[gwynethberdarasupremecy]

Azriels shadows reacting to him singing/humming 🤝 Gwyns light powers reacting to her singing

Oh how i love when like calls to like.

[starsreminisce]

The suite was filled with sunlight. Every curtain shoved back as far as it could go, to let in as much sun as possible. As if any bit of darkness was abhorrent. As if to chase it away. And seated in a small chair before the sunniest of the windows, her back to us, was Elain.

SJM loves writing huge payoff moments, and Lucien's true parentage is one that's clearly in the making, especially since she retconned his physical appearance from resembling Beron to having features similar to Helion.

It's especially telling that, within the same section, Elain says she wants to go home, with Lucien present to hear it and visibly react to her words and emotions in that moment.

The argument that Lucien lacks sun imagery becomes irrelevant when he's still the heir to the Day Court and has increasingly shown his growing power.

In the last book, he demonstrated an ability to sense when a situation was about to take a turn for the worse and to do inherent dominance to calm it.

What a huge and satisfying payoff it would be for Elain to close the loop on the mystery of who Lucien's father truly is, exemplifying yet another way that Like Calls to Like.

[manderleyfire]

I will do all this, I will get all this blood on my hands, and you are able to plead naivety.

[the-woman-upstairs]

I love that Daniel’s ALWAYS been Team Claudia.

[wingedblooms]

there’s just something so delicious to me about the female no one expects and everyone underestimates innately wielding the magic of legendary, Cauldron-Made blades. that something in her power calls to them just as much as they call to her. both made and unmade.

[nightcourtreader]

💞 Like calls to like💞

“Like call to like” is a quote that SJM has stated numerous times in the acotar series. This quote also goes for her mates. SJM is known to want her mates equal. She’s not known to do an opposites attract mating bond.

From what I gathered from the text with feysand, Nessian, gwynriel, and elucien; each couple has many similarities between them.

Based on what I gathered, which is canon evidence throughout the series, we can see that Azriel and Gwyn have enough connections and similarities that make them equals. And since we know elucien is already mated, we can see why they are deemed equals.

✨Feysand✨

• They are one of the most, if not just the most, powerful fae in Prythian. (Rhys is the most powerful high lord in Prythian history & Feyre has all 7 high lords powers.)

•Feyre’s birthday is on the longest night of the year (winter solstice) and Rhysand is high lord of the night court.

•Both of them rule the night court with the “high title”. (Feyre is the first leading lady of a court to have a title that is equal to an high lord.)

•Both are compassionate when it comes to their family. They really love their families.

•Both are morally gray characters. Feyre has a mean streak so does Rhys. Rhys is more advertised to be morally gray but I just think Feyre is too.

•Both felt/feel like they are monsters at some point.

•Both are cunning.

•Both have calculated minds.

•Both will become monsters to defend their love ones.

•Both felt like they weren’t worthy of good things at some point.

•Don’t like to share the burden of their troubles.

•Both sacrificial fools.

•They both are trained warriors and fighters.

🗡Nesta & Cassian🗡

•Cassian is the general/commander of the Illyrian’s and we get foreshadowing that Nesta would be the general/commander of the valkyries.

•They both are trained warriors/fighters.

•Both thought less of themselves. (Cassian often called himself just a bastard born nobody and Nesta thought she wasn’t shit and a waste of space.)

•They both thought they didn’t deserve one another.

•They both thought they didn’t fit each other’s standards.

•Both have calculated minds.

•Both have minds that can calculate a battlefield. (We know this due to Cassian being a general/commander but we see that Nesta used a ballroom as her battlefield to spite a girl who was mean to Elain.)

•Both have a connection with death. Cassian walks alongside death because he’s a warrior. Nesta has death magic and is called lady death.

•They both have a connection to dancing and music. (Nesta dances and loves music. Cassian has so much skill and precision in battling that is was like a dance. And for him, battle is a symphony. He has a death dance. (Page 509, ACOWAR)

•Training helps both of them clear their heads.

•They rather put themselves in danger than their families.

•Both have insecurities and doubt themselves.

•At one point both of them were filled with self loathing.

•They both have the power and abilities to be courtiers.

•Both hate the spring pollen.

•Both have allergies.

•Both were poor and starving when they were younger & growing up.

•Nesta has the title lady death, and Cassian has the title lord of blooshed which can also mean death.

⚔️Gwyn & Azriel⚔️

Both of them believe that they are too impure/dirty/scarred.

I think Gwyn sees herself as impure because she thinks she doesn’t deserves to wear her priestess stone, which ties into the guilt of her sister.

Azriel always thinks negative thoughts of his scarred hands and with his bonus chapter we see he kind of thinks his job in Hewn City taints him.

They both believe they don’t deserve the people in their life and good things.

“He might have defied and proved those illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won’t matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris, he’ll see himself as a bastard born nobody, and not good enough for anyone.” (pg 511, ACOMAF)

Once again, we see that Gwyn feels that she doesn’t even deserve to wear her invoking stone because she failed her sister and she blames herself, to the point she couldn’t see Catrin’s grave.

They both have the Illyrian title, Carynthian, for conquering the blood rite. (Even though Gwyn decided she rather have the valkyrie title).

Both are trained warriors/fighters.

They both can sing.

Gwyn was the one who gave the readers something new and personal about Azriel.

They both are very competitive.

“Roslin, Ananke, and Deirdre were close on their heels, propelling Gwyn to push her group harder. She wanted to be the first. Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel’s and Cassian’s faces. Especially Azriel’s. (pg 624, ACOSF)

“Who ever lands the next blow wins.” “That’s ridiculous,” Az panted back. “We go until one of us eats dirt.” Az had a viscous competitive streak. It wasn’t boastful and arrogant like Cassian, or possessive and terrifying like Amren’s. No, it was quiet, cruel and utterly lethal. (Pg 254, ACOSF)

When it comes to challenges/tasks, they both have to do it/finish it and if they don’t they get frustrated and see their selves as failures and push hard to finish whatever it is.

“Tell me you found their secret to cutting the ribbon.” “You and that ribbon.” Nesta muttered, shutting the tome. Of all of them, Gwyn had become the most relentless about succeeding. (Pg 519, ACOSF)

Assess—and brood, it seemed, since Azriel had barely managed a polite hello to me before launching into squatting with Rhysand, his face grim and tight. They’d been at it now for an a hour straight, their slender blades like flashes of quicksilver as they moved around and around. I wondered if it was as much for practices as it was for Rhys to help his spymaster work off his frustration. (Page 293, ACOMAF) We see that Azriel couldn’t get his spies into the mortal queens court and was frustrated about it. Plus he wasn’t happy when hybern attacked summer and he didn’t know about it.

They both are very stubborn.

“The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly—fight with the legions, as they planned. Rhys refused. Cassian refused. Azriel threatened to slip into shadow and fight anyway. Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain Azriel to a tree (Pg 610, ACOWAR)

I’m going in,” Azriel said. “No” rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. “chain me to a tree Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckled on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.” (ACOWAR, page 6??)

“No.” “I can use the bottleneck of the path right there,” Nesta plowed ahead, pointing to the space beyond the archway, “to keep them off long enough for you two to reach the top. Or dawn to come. Whichever happens first." Gwyn bared her teeth. “I refuse to leave you here." Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic. Nesta said to Gwyn, “It is the only way." Gwyn screamed, “IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!* And then she was sobbing. “I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.” “You need to go, Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. “Now." “No," Gwyn wept. “No, I won't. I'll face it with you." (Page 704, ACOSF)

Would do anything for their friends/family, including literally fighting to their death and sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love.

We see this with Gwyn not wanting to leave Nesta be herself to go against the Illyrian’s during the blood rite. That Gwyn would rather die than leave Nesta on her own. (Pg 704, ACOSF)

“I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger.” (pg 180, ACOMAF)

•Passionate about the ones and really love the people that they consider family.

•Gives their family a helping hand when it comes to physical and emotional factors and barriers. Azriel wanted to help Feyre learn to fly because he knows the emotional and physical barriers in learning how to fly late. We see that Gwyn helps Nesta with breathing techniques to calm her mind.

Azriel tucked in his wings, his beauty features uncharacteristically soft. Contemplative. “I’ll teach you.” “Are you certain?” I asked. The unreadable mask sloped back over Azriel’s face. “Rhys and cass were taught how to fly so young that they barely remember it.” But Azriel, locked in his hateful fathers dungeons like some criminal until he was eleven, denied the ability to fly, flight, to do anything bud illyrian instincts screamed at him to do. (Page 187, ACOWAR)

During ACOSF, (pages 409-411), Gwyn helped Nesta feel settled into her own skin for the first time in her life with mind stilling techniques that Gwyn help teach her.

Az & Gwyn both have similar quotes and sayings to their selfs to help them get through things.

“You are immortal,” he said quietly. “You are very hard to break”. A pause. “That’s what I told myself.” (Pg 305, ACOWAR).

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” … “nothing can break me.” (621, ACOSF)

TRIGGER WARNING. They both were abused, whether emotionally or physically by the hands of men.

Azriel was physically trapped by his father in a cell and his hands were burned by fire by his brothers. He was only allowed to see his mother a hour out a of week.

Gwyn is trapped by the fear of living in the outside world due to the physical abuse she received by men in Sangravah, seeing her sister brutally murdered in front of her, and maybe due to the events of the Blood Rite.

They both have some interest in their worlds, the universe and have a connection to the overlapping worlds.

Gwyn worked with Merrill, who wrote about overlapping worlds and Gwyn is a researcher who helped Merrill with it.

Both are aware of the trove, which the harp is connected to other worlds.

Azriel is the one to find Bryce and his knife is the counterpart to her sword.

“In its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it. Az, of course had been fascinated. Rhys had built the model himself centuries ago. It could not only track the sun, but also tell time, and it somehow allowed Rhys to ponder the existence of life behind their own world.” (Page 37, ACOSF)

Both of them blame themselves and feel guilty over things they cannot control, nor was their fault.

Gwyn feels guilty and blames herself for Catrin’s death. She thinks she failed her.

Azriel feels guilty on the fact that he didnt save Mor before she was violated, he didn’t help Cassian before he was gutted in the second war, that he didn’t find out beforehand that Hybern was going to attack the summer court, etc.

Hybern had made their grand move at last. And we had not anticipated it. I knew Azriel would take the blame upon himself. One look at the shadowsinger as he prowled though the front door of the town house minute later, Cassian on his heels, told me that he already did. (Page 347, ACOWAR)

Both gather information.

Azriel is the spymaster who gathers intel for the Night Court. (I also think that Azriel also research things due to him being the spymaster as well. So assuming Azriel goes to the library for work is not so far fetched.)

Gwyn is a researcher who helps gathers information for Merrill. Plus she lives in a library period.

Their occupations puts pressure on them, causing them to hold themselves to high standards because they don’t like to fail.

She told me little of the specifics—even less about how the frustration of not being able to get his spies or himself into those courts took a toll on him. The standards to which he held himself, she confided in me, bordered on sadistic. (Page 376, ACOMAF)

Gwyn went on, “These females took me in. Gave me shelter and healing and family.” Again, her large eyes darkened. I cannot stand to fail them in anything. Especially someone as demanding as Merrill. Even when it might seem trivial.” (Page 148, ACOSF)

*They both have connections to the color blue.

They both have blue stones. Gwyn has a blue invoking stone and Azriel has a blue siphon.

When making the friendship bracelets one of Gwyn’s color was blue.

Gwyn’s priestess robes are blue.

Gwyn has blue teal eyes.

*They both have trouble sleeping.

“Bad dreams,” Nesta said. Gwyn asked, on Nesta’s other side, “do you have them often?” “Yes.” “Me too,” Gwyn said quietly. “Some nights, I need a sleeping potion from our healer to knock me out.” Gwyn said playing with her hair, “I dream of my past too.” (Page 329, ACOSF)

“Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep. I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.”(Azriel’s bonus chapter.)

They both are described as beautiful.

Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess has been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor. (Pg 317, ACOSF)

“But the second male, the more classically beautiful” (pg 158, ACOMAF)

Azriel was nothing short of beautiful. Even with those scarred hands and the shadows that flowed from him like smoke, she’d always found him to be the prettiest of the three males who called themselves brothers. (Page 100, ACOSF)

I think that Gwyn has the potential to also be a spy. She’s already physically trained. She’s able to help research for any future missions. In ACOSF, I don’t think there’s a coincidence for SJM to go into great detail on how Gwyn led the beast to the camp by spying on the beast for 2 days and learning their habits during the blood rite and have Azriel explain 6 pages later how spying is all about waiting for the right moment and Gwyn just so happen to have and say “timing that was just good luck.”

“I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.” “You lead the beast right to them.” “I learned where the beasts sleep during the day,” Gwyn said. “and that they get very angry when awoken.” she pointed to the cuts on her face, her hands. “I barely out ran that one as I led it toward the camp. My timing was just good luck, though.” (Pg 682, ACOSF)

“Azriel sharpen truth teller. the Black Blade absorbed the dim sunlight trickling through the forest canopy above. “it seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. people don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you. Cassian rolled his eyes. “I stopped spying because it bored me to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time.” “It suits me.” (page 688, ACOSF)

🌻Lucien & Elain🌻

They both can “see”. Elain is a seer & Lucien has a special eye that can see through glamours and spells.

Both are associated with nature, Elain is seen/associated with flowers (usually a rose) & Lucien is seen to be sunlight due to the fact Lucien name literally means “light” & his biological dad is the high lord of the Day court (we all know majority of flowers need sunlight to grow).

Both of their names mean light! Lucien’s name means light and Elain names means sun ray/sun light/ shining light.

They are both associated with animals. Elain is associated with a fawn and Lucien is associated with being a fox.

In the series we really didn’t see the both of them really speak up or defend themselves, and let people treat them any type of way, until ACOSF we see changes in that. Elain stepped up and wanted to be apart of helping with the dread trove.

They are both very underestimated by others in the series. Although Feyre & Rhys discussed how they know that Lucien has much more to offer. Amren & Rhys know that Elain has much to offer because Amren said that Elain is fully capable of defending herself against the dread trove and in the bonus chapter rhys mentioned that Elain has much more to give.

They both don’t like to be around cruelty. (we see that Lucien threw up seeing a fae have his wings cut off and looking pale when seeing a spiked head in the fountain in ACOTAR and we know Elain does not like the brutality of Hewn City & pales at the sight of a blade.)

They both are social butterfly’s. Lucien is known to know how to talk to people and he’s known to make many friends across different courts. Lucien also knows enough about the autumn court citizens to recognize who is apart of the court and who isn’t. Once Feyre’s family got their money and status back, Elain was very social with a group of girls and greeted everyone at the ball they threw in Feyre’s honor in ACOTAR. Nesta said that Elain used to love balls and parties.

They both dress good no matter what happens. Feyre pointed out in ACOTAR that even in poverty Elain still looked lovely and Cassian pointed out no matter how many jobs Lucien had, he still dresses good in ACOSF.

Both of them had their previous love interest “ripped” away from them. Graysen was no longer Elain’s after she turned fae because one, she was fae and two, became Lucien’s mate. Elain had no way of stopping herself from becoming fae. Lucien saw his girlfriend be executed in front of him and he had no way to get to her or stop it due to his family.

Don’t fit into their family’s courts. Lucien doesn’t fit into the Autumn Court. Elain is said to not fit in the Night Court by Cassian when they all visited Hewn City.

[briaberri]

Archies in Love: Nesta

Certainly these two passion fits make the most of their time going 0-100 degrees at every turn.

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

August: Fantasy & Sci-Fi

Shadow and Bone (s2e2 & s2e3) / Patrick Gibson as "Sturmhond"

I love it when an adaptation takes the trouble to follow the description of a costume from the source material. In Siege and Storm (the second book in the series), Sturmhond's outfit is described as follows: "He wore leather breeches, a brace of pistols at his hips, and a bright teal frock coat with gaudy gold buttons and enormous cuffs. It belonged in a ballroom or on an opera stage, not on the deck of a ship." I suppose you could quibble about the definition of "frock coat," but the overall effect of looking like a costume is spot-on!*

The screencaps are taken from season 2, episodes 2 ("Rusalye") and 3 ("Like Calls to Like").

*(And, um, spoilers, but a costume is exactly what it is....)

[starlessmistake]

Sol Koroleva + The Starless Saint

[the-libraryghost]

Why does sjm use the phrase “like calls to like” so much

[olrinarts]

love how the monsterfuckers post is the one that i think i've gotten the most notes on the fastest

really oughtta clean up some of my eldritch warm up sketches, i can see the target audience is finding me